"In the old King's time," said he, "I knew this way well."

I followed him, and we walked, as I should estimate, near two hundred
yards along a narrow passage. Then we came to a stout oak door. Sapt
unlocked it. We passed through, and found ourselves in a quiet street
that ran along the back of the Palace gardens. A man was waiting for us
with two horses. One was a magnificent bay, up to any weight; the other
a sturdy brown. Sapt signed to me to mount the bay. Without a word
to the man, we mounted and rode away. The town was full of noise and
merriment, but we took secluded ways. My cloak was wrapped over half
my face; the capacious flat cap hid every lock of my tell-tale hair. By
Sapt's directions, I crouched on my saddle, and rode with such a round
back as I hope never to exhibit on a horse again. Down a long narrow
lane we went, meeting some wanderers and some roisterers; and, as we
rode, we heard the Cathedral bells still clanging out their welcome to
the King. It was half-past six, and still light. At last we came to the
city wall and to a gate.

"Have your weapon ready," whispered Sapt. "We must stop his mouth, if he
talks."

I put my hand on my revolver. Sapt hailed the doorkeeper. The stars
fought for us! A little girl of fourteen tripped out.

"Please, sir, father's gone to see the King."

"He'd better have stayed here," said Sapt to me, grinning.

"But he said I wasn't to open the gate, sir."