But at that moment, down the street with a great rumble of wheels, cracking of whips and clatter of hoofs, came a coach, bearing to Mr.Newlington's King Monmouth escorted by his forty life-guards.

Cheering broke from the crowd as the carriage drew up, and the Duke-King as he alighted turned his handsome face, on which shone the ruddy glow of torches, to acknowledge these loyal acclamations.

He passed up the steps, at the top of which Mr.Newlington--fat and pale and monstrously overdressed--stood bowing to welcome his royal visitor.

Host and guest vanished, followed by some six officers of Monmouth's, among whom were Grey and Wade.
The sight-seers flattened themselves against the walls as the great lumbering coach put about and went off again the way it had come, the life-guards following after.
Trenchard fancied that he caught a sigh of relief from Richard, but the street was noisy at the time and he may well have been mistaken.
"Come," said he, renewing his invitation, "we shall both be the better for a little milk of the White Cow." Richard wavered almost by instinct.

The White Cow, he knew, was famous for its sack; on the other hand, he was pledged to Sir Rowland to stand guard in the narrow lane at the back where ran the wall of Mr.
Newlington's garden.