Almost opposite to his window stood a small mean house fallen into neglect and disrepair.  The windows were curtained with dust, many of the panes were broken, the shutters hung upon broken hinges, the paint was peeling from the door.  The house had the most melancholy aspect of long disuse.  It seemed to belong to no one and to be crumbling pitifully to ruin like an aged man who has no friends.  Yet this house had its uses, which Gaydon could not but perceive were of a secret kind.  On the very first day that Gaydon sat at his window a man, who seemed from his dress to be of a high consideration, came sauntering along that sordid thoroughfare, where he seemed entirely out of place, like a butterfly on the high seas.  To Gaydon’s surprise he stopped at the door, gave a cautious look round, and rapped quickly with his stick.  At once the door of that uninhabited house was opened.  The man entered, the door was closed upon him, and a good hour by Gaydon’s watch elapsed before it was opened again to let him out.  In the afternoon another man came and was admitted with the same secrecy.  Both men had worn their hats drawn down upon their foreheads, and whereas one of them held a muffler to his face, the other had thrust his chin within the folds of his cravat.  Gaydon had not been able to see the face of either.  After nightfall he remarked that such visits became more frequent.  Moreover, they were repeated on the next day and the next.  Gaydon watched, but never got any nearer to a solution of the mystery.  At the end of the sixth day he was more puzzled and interested than ever, for closely as he had watched he had not seen the face of any man who had passed in and out of that door.

But he was to see a face that night.

At nine o’clock a messenger from Edgar, the secretary, brought him a package which contained a letter and the passport for these six days delayed.  The letter warned him that Edgar himself would come to fetch him in the morning to his audience with James.  The passport gave authority to a Flemish nobleman, the Count of Cernes, to make a pilgrimage to Loretto with his wife and family.  The name of Warner had served its turn and could no longer be employed.

As soon as the messenger had gone, Gaydon destroyed Edgar’s letter, put the passport safely away in his breast, and since he had not left his room that day, put on his hat.  Being a prudent man with a turn for economy, he also extinguished his lamp.  He had also a liking for fresh air, so he opened the window, and at the same moment the door of the house opposite was opened.  A tall burly man with a lantern in his hand stepped out into the street; he was followed by a slight man of a short stature.  Both men were wrapped in their cloaks, but the shorter one tripped on a break in the road and his cloak fell apart.  His companion turned at once and held his lantern aloft.  Just for a second the light therefore flashed upon a face, and Gaydon at his dark window caught a glimpse of it.  The face was the face of his King.