Edward smiled as he laid his hand upon his comrade’s shoulder.

“Good Paul, did you think that I would trade upon your love, to filch from you the remains of that poor fortune which is all you have left of the world’s goods?  I knew how readily your all would have been laid at my feet; but it was not for me to accept the sacrifice when I had means of raising money myself.  And what danger can there be?  My mother’s jewels can scarce be known here.  I fear your courage is but a sorry thing, you are so prone to idle fears and gloomy portents.”

“Heaven grant I may be deceived; But the pearl clasp of which you speak—­tell me what it was like.”

“Why, a fine pearl set in a clasp of chased gold with an eagle in relief, the claws forming the catch of the clasp.  My royal mother had a pair of them once; what befell the other I remember not.  It was lost, I have heard her say, long years ago.”

Paul clasped his hands closely together.

“Edward,” he said, “it was just such a clasp as that which fastened the jewelled collar of the little Prince of Wales on the day when he, in play, fastened that collar about my neck, which collar fell a prey to certain robbers who carried off the humble knight’s son in mistake for the prince.

“And listen further, Edward.  Those same robbers who dogged your steps years ago are now in hiding in the fastnesses of that great Epping Forest through which we have lately journeyed.  The peddler knows them and traffics with them; that have I heard from others.  Most likely he has himself suspected something, and has gone with his clasp to consult with the chieftain, who is a sworn foe to the House of Lancaster.  And having made out that the clasps are fellows, and having their suspicions fully aroused, they have followed on our trail—­we made no secret that London was our goal—­and are seeking to get you into their power.”

Edward’s face was grave now.  It seemed as if Paul’s fears were not unfounded.

“Yet what good would come to them by that?” he questioned thoughtfully; and Paul had the answer only too ready.

“Marry, every good in the world!  Dear my lord, forgive the plain speaking of one who loves you well; but we have not lived in this great city all these weeks for nought.  You know how it is with the people of this land.  They will never be ruled long by your saintly father.  They know his strange malady, and they think him more fit for a monk’s cell than a royal throne.  Your mother—­”

“Ay, they hate her,” answered Edward mournfully.  “They cannot speak her name without all manner of insulting epithets, which have made my blood boil in my veins.”

“It is so, dear my lord; they have never loved her, and evil report will spread and gather head, You see that they would never accept her rule in your royal father’s name.  It would raise sedition and tumult at once.  The house and faction of York know this.  They know that their power would be secure were King Henry and his queen alone in the matter; but there is still one more—­the Prince of Wales, against whom no man speaks evil, even the most rancorous enemies of the House of Lancaster.  All who have seen him love him; all speak of his noble person, his graces of body and mind, his aptness to rule, his kingly qualities.