, as soon
as he had broken his fast, which he did in the privacy of his own
apartments, the Earl bade him and Gascoyne to make ready for the barge,
which was then waiting at the river stairs to take them to Scotland
Yard.

The Earl himself accompanied them, and as the heavy snub-nosed boat,
rowed by the six oarsmen in Mackworth livery, slid slowly and heavily
up against the stream, the Earl, leaning back in his cushioned seat,
pointed out the various inns of the great priests or nobles; palatial
town residences standing mostly a little distance back from the water
behind terraced high-walled gardens and lawns. Yon was the Bishop of
Exeter's Close; yon was the Bishop of Bath's; that was York House; and
that Chester Inn. So passing by gardens and lawns and palaces, they came
at last to Scotland Yard stairs, a broad flight of marble steps that led
upward to a stone platform above, upon which opened the gate-way of the
garden beyond.

The Scotland Yard of Myles Falworth's day was one of the more
pretentious and commodious of the palaces of the Strand. It took its
name from having been from ancient times the London inn which the
tributary Kings of Scotland occupied when on their periodical visits of
homage to England. Now, during this time of Scotland's independence, the
Prince of Wales had taken up his lodging in the old palace, and made it
noisy with the mad, boisterous mirth of his court.

As the watermen drew the barge close to the landing-place of the stairs,
the Earl stepped ashore, and followed by Myles and Gascoyne, ascended
to the broad gate-way of the river wall of the garden. Three men-at-arms
who lounged upon a bench under the shade of the little pent roof of a
guard-house beside the wall, arose and saluted as the well-known figure
of the Earl mounted the steps. The Earl nodded a cool answer, and
passing unchallenged through the gate, led the way up a pleached walk,
beyond which, as Myles could see, there stretched a little grassy lawn
and a stone-paved terrace. As the Earl and the two young men approached
the end of the walk, they were met by the sound of voices and laughter,
the clinking of glasses and the rattle of dishes. Turning a corner,
they came suddenly upon a party of young gentlemen, who sat at a late
breakfast under the shade of a wide-spreading lime-tree. They had
evidently just left the tilt-yard, for two of the guests--sturdy,
thick-set young knights--yet wore a part of their tilting armor.

B