When he had thought his thoughts out he shook up poor Frank from his sleep, who rose yawning, and said he had been dreaming of Clotilda.  “You must back me,” says Esmond, “in what I am going to do.  I have been thinking that yonder scoundrel may have been instructed to tell that story, and that the whole of it may be a lie; if it be, we shall find it out from the gentleman who is asleep yonder.  See if the door leading to my lady’s rooms,” (so we called the rooms at the north-west angle of the house,) “see if the door is barred as he saith.”  We tried; it was indeed as the lackey had said, closed within.

“It may have been opened and shut afterwards,” says poor Esmond; “the foundress of our family let our ancestor in in that way.”

“What will you do, Harry, if—­if what that fellow saith should turn out untrue?” The young man looked scared and frightened into his kinsman’s face; I dare say it wore no very pleasant expression.

“Let us first go see whether the two stories agree,” says Esmond; and went in at the passage and opened the door into what had been his own chamber now for wellnigh five-and-twenty years.  A candle was still burning, and the Prince asleep dressed on the bed—­Esmond did not care for making a noise.  The Prince started up in his bed, seeing two men in his chamber.  “Qui est la” says he, and took a pistol from under his pillow.

“It is the Marquis of Esmond,” says the Colonel, “come to welcome his Majesty to his house of Castlewood, and to report of what hath happened in London.  Pursuant to the King’s orders, I passed the night before last, after leaving his Majesty, in waiting upon the friends of the King.  It is a pity that his Majesty’s desire to see the country and to visit our poor house should have caused the King to quit London without notice yesterday, when the opportunity happened which in all human probability may not occur again; and had the King not chosen to ride to Castlewood, the Prince of Wales might have slept at St. James’s.”

“’Sdeath! gentlemen,” says the Prince, starting off his bed, whereon he was lying in his clothes, “the Doctor was with me yesterday morning, and after watching by my sister all night, told me I might not hope to see the Queen.”

“It would have been otherwise,” says Esmond with another bow; “as, by this time, the Queen may be dead in spite of the Doctor.  The Council was met, a new Treasurer was appointed, the troops were devoted to the King’s cause; and fifty loyal gentlemen of the greatest names of this kingdom were assembled to accompany the Prince of Wales, who might have been the acknowledged heir of the throne, or the possessor of it by this time, had your Majesty not chosen to take the air.  We were ready; there was only one person that failed us, your Majesty’s gracious—­”

“Morbleu, Monsieur, you give me too much Majesty,” said the Prince, who had now risen up and seemed to be looking to one of us to help him to his coat.  But neither stirred.