; 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 ac