hoed George, while his glance wandered
round the room, as if seeking to escape from the bore of excitement.
"Betrayed! No, no; my men--"

"Your men, Sire, to-night will be dead or in prison," said Mrs. Carey,
with increased firmness, reading the puerile nature and seeing the value
of emphasis.

"I am to join my gentlemen at Aldershot at noon," muttered the King.

"No, no!" cried Mrs. Carey, and her beautiful hands clasped his arm
beseechingly. "Your Majesty will be lost if you attempt to go--all who
go there will be lost."

There was a depth in her voice at these words that carried conviction.

"Your Majesty must escape from England to-night!"

"Impossible!" cried George, with some dignity, but more irritation.

"Oh, listen to me, Sire!" she sobbed, "and do not despise my words
because I am only a weak woman."

Here the small eyes of the King rested on her again, and the royal hand
soothed her back to calmness by stroking her beautiful hair.

"Everything is known," she continued, "except that your Majesty has
landed. If that were known all were lost. President Bagshaw has
surrounded Aldershot with soldiers. There are twenty to one against the
Royalists."

"But the King's name will change them;" and as he spoke George seemed
really to believe his words. "When Colonel Arundel proclaims me King,
as Dacre says he will--"

"Oh, Sire! Sire!" sobbed Mrs. Carey, now really touched by the vivid
picture that appeared of her own treachery; "even that is known to the
President--and all the soldiers who are to kill Colonel Arundel have
already received his instructions!"

This precise and terrible statement staggered George, and a look of
simple alarm came into his eyes.

"Then what is to be done?" he cried, in a bewildered way.

"Your Majesty must escape this night--this hour. You are not safe one
moment in London; you know not who might betray you. The steam-yacht
which brought you to England lies ready this moment to receive you."

George tried to think; but he could not. He walked about nervously.

"Let us have Bugbee here!" he exclaimed, with a burst of relief.

"No! I implore your Majesty! Do not trust any one--even him. He may be
true as steel--I do not doubt it. If he be true he will not object to
your escape. But not knowing all, he may advise delay--and delay is
destruction."

"What shall I do, then? Tell me, tell me, child. What shall I do?"

There was a pitiful confession of weakness in the words a