"It is impossible."

But he seemed to utter the phrase with less decision this second time.
Wogan pressed his advantage at the expense of his modesty.

"Sir, will you allow me to tell you a story,--a story of an impossible
escape from Newgate in the heart of London by a man in fetters? There
were nine grenadiers with loaded muskets standing over him. There were
two courtyards to cross, two walls to climb, and beyond the walls the
unfriendly streets. The man hoodwinked his sentries, climbed his two
walls, crossed the unfriendly streets, and took refuge in a cellar,
where he was discovered. From the cellar in broad daylight he fought his
way to the roofs, and on the roofs he played such a game of
hide-and-seek among the chimney-tops--" Wogan broke off from his story
with a clear thrill of laughter; it was a laugh of enjoyment at a
pleasing recollection. Then he suddenly flung himself down on his knee
at the feet of his sovereign. "Give me leave, your Majesty," he cried
passionately. "Let me go upon this errand. If I fail, if the scaffold's
dressed for me, why where's the harm? Your Majesty loses one servant out
of his many. Whereas, if I win--" and he drew a long breath. "Aye, and I
shall win! There's the Princess, too, a prisoner. Sir, she has ventured
much. I beg you give me leave."

The Chevalier laid his hand gently upon Wogan's shoulder, but he did not
assent. He looked again doubtfully to the Cardinal, who said with his
pleasant smile, "I will wager Mr. Wogan a box at the Opera on the first
night that he returns, that he will return empty-handed."

Wogan rose to his feet and replied good-humouredly, "It's a wager I