"My friend can do as he pleases. What do you say, Hubert?"
"I should like to go, of all things, if neither of you have any
objections."
"Come on, then," said the count, "we will find horses in readiness a
short distance from this."
The three started together, and walked on in silence through several
streets, until they reached a retired inn, where the count's recent
companion stood, with the horses. Count L'Estrange whispered a few words
to him, upon which he bowed and retired; and in an instant they were all
in the saddle, and galloping away.
The journey was rather a silent one, and what conversation there was,
was principally sustained by the count. Hubert's usual flow of pertinent
chat seemed to have forsaken him, and Sir Norman had so many other
things to think of--Leoline, Ormiston, Miranda, and the mysterious count
himself--that he felt in no mood for talking. Soon, they left the city
behind them; the succeeding two miles were quickly passed over, and
the "Golden Crown," all dark and forsaken, now hove in sight. As they
reached this, and cantered up the road leading to the ruin, Sir Norman
drew rein, and said: "I think our best plan would be, to dismount, and lead our horses the
rest of the way, and not incur any unnecessary danger by making a noise.
We can fasten them to these trees, where they will be at hand when we
come out."
"Wait one moment," said the count, lifting his finger with a listening
look. "Listen to that!"
It was a regular tramp of horses' hoofs, sounding in the silence like a
charge of cavalry. While they looked, a troop of horsemen came galloping
up, and came to a halt when they saw the count.
No words can depict the look of amazement Sir Norman's face wore;
but Hubert betrayed not the least surprise. The count glanced at his
companions with a significant smile, and riding back, held a brief
colloquy with him who seemed the leader of the horsemen. He rode up to
them, smiling still, and saying, as he passed, "Now then, Kingsley; lead on, and we will follow!"
"I go not one step further," said Sir Norman, firmly, "until I know who
I am leading. Who are you, Count L'Estrange?"
The count looked at him, but did not answer. A warning hand--that of
Hubert--grasped Sir Norman's arm; and Hubert's voice whispered hurriedly
in his ear: "Hush, for God's sake! It is the king!"