The officer's face grew dark as he read the English paragraph, and Miles blenched to the opposite colour as he listened.
"Another new claimant of the Crown!" cried the officer.

"Verily they breed like rabbits, to-day.

Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep him fast whilst I convey this precious paper within and send it to the King." He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip of the halberdiers.
"Now is my evil luck ended at last," muttered Hendon, "for I shall dangle at a rope's end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of writing.

And what will become of my poor lad!--ah, only the good God knoweth." By-and-by he saw the officer coming again, in a great hurry; so he plucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as became a man.

The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and return his sword to him; then bowed respectfully, and said-- "Please you, sir, to follow me." Hendon followed, saying to himself, "An' I were not travelling to death and judgment, and so must needs economise in sin, I would throttle this knave for his mock courtesy." The two traversed a populous court, and arrived at the grand entrance of the palace, where the officer, with another bow, delivered Hendon into the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with profound respect and led him forward through a great hall, lined on both sides with rows of splendid flunkeys (who made reverential obeisance as the two passed along, but fell into death-throes of silent laughter at our stately scarecrow the moment his back was turned), and up a broad staircase, among flocks of fine folk, and finally conducted him into a vast room, clove a passage for him through the assembled nobility of England, then made a bow, reminded him to take his hat off, and left him standing in the middle of the room, a mark for all eyes, for plenty of indignant frowns, and for a sufficiency of amused and derisive smiles.
Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered.