is
ended," he muttered despairingly. But already Crispin had sprung from
his horse.

"Dismount, sire," he roared, and he assisted him so vigorously as to
appear to drag him out of the saddle.

"Which way?" demanded Charles, looking helplessly from left to right.
"Which way?"

But Crispin's quick mind had already shaped a plan. Seizing the royal
arm--for who in such straits would deal ceremoniously?--he thrust the
King across the threshold, and, following, closed the door and shot its
only bolt. But the shout set up by the Puritans announced to them that
their movement had been detected.

The King turned upon Sir Crispin, and in the half-light of the passage
wherein they stood Galliard made out the frown that bent the royal
brows.

"And now?" demanded Charles, a note almost of reproach in his voice.

"And now begone, sire," returned the knight. "Begone ere they come."

"Begone?" echoed Charles, in amazement. "But whither, sir? Whither and
how?"

His last words were almost drowned in the din without, as the Roundheads
pulled up before the house.

"By the back, sire," was the impatient answer. "Through door or
window--as best you can. The back must overlook the Corn-Market; that is
your way. But hasten--in God's name hasten!--ere they bethink them of it
and cut off your retreat."

As he spoke a violent blow shook the door.

"Quick, Your Majesty," he implored, in a frenzy.

Charles moved to depart, then paused. "But you, sir? Do you not come
with me?"

Crispin stamped his foot, and turned a face livid with impatience upon
his King. In that moment all distinction of rank lay forgotten.

"I must remain," he answered, speaking quickly. "That crazy door will
not hold for a second once a stout man sets his shoulder to it. After
the door they will find me, and for your sake I trust I may prove of
stouter stuff. Fare you well, sire," he ended in a softer tone. "God
guard Your Majesty and send you happier days."

And, bending his knee, Crispin brushed the royal hand with his hot lips.

A shower of blows clattered upon the timbers of the door, and one of
its panels was splintered by a musket-shot. Charles saw it, and with a
muttered word that was not caught by Crispin, he obeyed the knight, and
fled.

Scarce had he disappeared down that narrow passage, when the door gave
way completely and with a mighty crash fell in. Over the ruins of it
sprang a young Puritan-scarce more than a boy--shouting: "The Lord of
H