Men were running and shots resounded on every side, above all of which predominated the cry that His Majesty was murdered.
In an instant the common room of the White Cow was emptied of every occupant save two--Trenchard and Westmacott.

Neither of them felt the need to go forth in quest of news.

They knew how idle was the cry in the streets.

They knew what had taken place, and knowing it, Trenchard smoked on placidly, satisfied that Wilding had been in time, whilst Richard stood stricken and petrified by dismay at realizing, with even greater certainty, that something had supervened to thwart, perhaps to destroy, Sir Rowland.

For he knew that Blake's party had gone forth armed with pistols only, and intent not to use even these save in the last extremity; to avoid noise they were to keep to steel.