CHAPTER XXV.

SUPPER AT THE SILVER LEOPARD.

"Oh, all that I grant you; 'tis indeed a mockery of hospitality which moves a man to press his good things on his guest beyond his appetite; and the rascals were to blame--much to blame. But, my good Master Lee, you're absolutely no trencherman."

And as he spoke, Master Alworth laid a tempting cut from the huge sirloin before him upon Lawrence Lee's plate. "A strapping fellow of your inches," he went on, "should know better how to dispose of a glass, and to ply his knife and fork."

"Nay," answered Lee, toying with the implements in question till he seemed to be making grand havoc with the slice of beef. "But I have supped excellently," and he glanced in courteous admiration at the temptingly loaded table. "Such good things would almost charm a dead man."

"And 'tis almost what he looks," thought the goldsmith, as he secretly scanned Lee's colourless face; colourless save where on either cheek two spots burned crimson red.

[Sidenote: A good servant.]

"Though I doubt dead men's eyes never shone like his," he mentally added. "What the mischief ails the lad?" but aloud he only replied in well-pleased tones: "They're wholesome enough; and to speak no treason, Master Lee, the king's own kitchen, at least here in Newmarket, boasts not such a hand as my old Margery's at turning a venison pasty; try a morsel of it. No? well then, drink, man, drink. There's no finer colouring for white cheeks like your's, than a glass of my old Tokay. What! you won't neither?" said his hospitable host with a shrug, as Lee drew the massive silver-gilt goblet smilingly but resolutely on one side. "I' faith! I like not sots and topers," he went on, as he filled his own glass to the brim, "and as worthy Warwickshire Will--Oh, no offence, young gentleman--out of date Master Shakspere may be, but mind you, he can frame as wise and witty a phrase when he pleases, as any of your Shadwells or Rochesters, or your long-winded Master Drydens either, and he says ''tis a shame for men to put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains.' But wine need be no man's enemy. It should rather be his trusty servant and helper. For wine, as another wise man hath it, is a good servant, though it be a tyrant master, just as fire--"

"Fire! Fire!" loudly echoed Lawrence, starting from the brown study into which he had fallen during his entertainer's disquisition.

"Why, bless the good fellow!" ejaculated the goldsmith under his breath, as he leant back in his well-cushioned chair, and tipping together the points of his ten fingers, contemplated Lawrence through his half-closed eyelids with no small curiosity. "'Tis but a cloud-brained lad after all; one would ha' guessed I'd flashed a musket-shot in his ear, to see him start."

"Ay," he added aloud, "I was but remarking that fire is a good servant, but a bad master, since 'tis easier to kindle a flame than to put it out. But come, tell me now. How did your suit prosper to-day with his majesty? Though in truth what its nature was I know not; nor desire to be inquisitive," he added good-humouredly, as he perceived that Lee showed little willingness to enlighten him. "But you succeeded in it?"

"No--yes, no--that is, I saw the king."

"And spoke with him?"

"And spoke with him--Oh yes."

"And what think you of his majesty?" catechised on his host, just a thought drowsily. "A right debonair and gracious gentleman, is he not so?"

"Every inch a king," enthusiastically cried Lee.

[Sidenote: Lawrence drinks another toast.]

"Oh ho! have I warmed the ice at last?" thought the goldsmith, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Why, so say I, Master Lawrence," he cordially rejoined. "And--come now, a challenge, you can't refuse--nay, i' faith! but you must drain it. I shall hold you a double-dyed traitor else indeed. Here's to King Charles," and reaching the bottle over Lee's goblet, he filled it, unchecked this time, and rose to his feet. "God bless him, and confusion to his foes by land and sea."

"Confusion to his foes!" echoed Lawrence, rising too, and draining the cup to its dregs.

"And, since his majesty so well pleases you, what think you of his Newmarket palace?" continued Alworth, as both resumed their seats, manfully struggling to keep up the lagging ball of conversation, though, to own the truth, a long day over his ledgers, the dulness of his companion, who did not seem to be able to originate one single observation, and the supper he had eaten, were beginning to work more and more soporifically upon him.

[Sidenote: A rat-hole for a palace.]

"Palace!" cried Lee with sudden animation. "A rat-hole; just a rat-hole. Only fit to be smoked out!"

"Scarce big enough, truly, to swing a cat in," laughingly acquiesced Alworth. "'Tis a mean place, as you say, with its chimneys huddled away in corners and crannies, as if they were ashamed of themselves; and the house abutting, like any common one, upon the street, without any court or avenue to't."[1]

[1] _Evelyn's Diary._

"I looked to find it built somewhere upon the course itself," said Lee.

"As it should ha' been," replied the goldsmith. "Upon the very carpet, as one might say, where the sports are celebrated. My own identical words to Mr. Samuel, the--the gods forgive us!--the architect. 'But,' says he, 'Master Alworth, his majesty is bent on the purchase of this wretched old house.' And his majesty has a rare obstinate head-piece of his own, like the one they cut off his father's neck before him--heaven rest his soul! And so there's his fine house, and a mighty improper one too, in my poor judgment, for sport and pleasure, Mr. Samuel has made of it. Though, to give even him his due, you may go far before you find better turned arches than the supports of the cellars that run beneath the king's private apartments.

"Which lie to the back of the house, if I mistake not," said Lee.

"You do not. And cut off almost entirely from the rest of it, a perfect network of pillars, and arches beneath, that one might go losing one's self in, like any trapped mouse, if you didn't know the trick of them," added the goldsmith half absently, half as if amused by some suggested thought, and toying with an ancient-looking little twisted and chased bar of silver which hung upon the massive gold chain he wore round his neck. "Tho' that would scarcely be my case; for here I have an open Sesame, that, if I had a mind to't, would bring me straight into Hassan's Cave. In other words--"

[Sidenote: Lawrence learns a secret.]

"The king's own bed-chamber?" eagerly cried Lee.

"Why, you are quite right," said Alworth, looking up with wide open astonished eyes. Was this young farmer such a dull-pated clodpole after all? "Though how you should guess--"

"Oh! I have heard of such contrivances as these subterranean ways," said Lawrence carelessly. "Where does it lead from?"

"Under your nose almost!" laughed Alworth, pointing to one of the large buttons, or bosses, carved on the intersections of the oaken framework of the wainscoting which lined the room.

"The dog's face?" asked Lee, carefully noting his glance.

"Nay, 'tis a sphinx's. And right well 'tis said she has guarded her secret for the three hundred years this house has been built."

"So long?"

"Ay. Just about the same time that the original foundations of what is now the king's palace were set. Some say that the lord of it, and my grandfather six or seven times removed, had dealings together in the black art,--but that is a way folks have of talking of honest traders when they happen to grow rich,--and that the two would meet together alone in the vaults at dead of night over their crucibles, to find out the secret of making gold."

"Was he of your craft, Master Alworth?" asked Lawrence.

"Ay; and a skilful master of it he must have been," said Alworth proudly, detaching the key from its chain and handing it to Lawrence for his inspection, "to have been able to cast such a pretty thing as this."

[Sidenote: The sphinx's throat.]

"And the lock it fits to," said Lawrence, taking the key and examining it curiously, "lies, you say, in the sphinx's throat yonder?"

The goldsmith nodded. "And the tale goes on to say," he added, "as I tell you, that they who push far enough along the passage, when they get to the bottom of the little staircase the panel opens upon, would find themselves in the room that is now the king's own bed-chamber. But I'd not care to be making the quest."

"Why not?"

[Sidenote: The key.]

"I' faith! 'tis possible, for one thing, his majesty might not care for the intrusion," laughed Alworth; "and for a greater reason, I've no fancy to be breaking my shins over broken-backed old stone floors and slimy steps, or running my head against these fine new stone posts of Master Samuel's, let them be never so mighty well turned. No; thank you for nothing!" continued Alworth with a sapient shake of his grizzled periwig. "I'm quite content to be in possession of the secret without putting my knowledge to the proof. And hark you, young gentleman," he went on more gravely, "if I've confided it to you, 'tis because--. Eh! eh! somehow I tripped upon it; but 'tis safe enough with you. You're not a man to betray secrets. You'll not put your knowledge to any ill use," he went on, as Lawrence made no reply, but bent his head lower and lower over the key. "'Twill go in at one ear and out at t'other, eh? By your leave," he went on, stretching out his hand for the key, which, however, Lawrence seemed in no hurry to give back, but sat dangling it in his fingers, lost, apparently, in deep thought.

"Ah, ha! I see how it is," laughed the goldsmith; "you'd be for reading my sphinx's riddle, Master Harum-Scarum Christopher Columbus. But I'll have none o' that. Come, no tricks. Give it back. No tricks," continued Alworth, as Lawrence obeyed and gave up the precious key. "So, lie you there safe and snug," he went on, slipping the key on to the chain again, and putting it neatly into the breast of his coat,--"safe and snug, little friend. And as for you, Master Lee, if you'll take my advice you'll be getting between the sheets Marjory has spread for you in the Blue Room above stairs."

"Many thanks," replied Lawrence, shaking his head; "but that is not possible. I should be back at Nether Hall before mid-day to-morrow; and 'tis a longish journey. In an hour's time I ought to be upon the road."

[Sidenote: Nature's soft nurse.]

"Tut, tut, man. Bed is the place for you to-night, and not a horse's saddle. Already your eyes shine like candles kindled at both ends. Six-and-thirty-hours it is, by your own showing, since you've closed 'em; and you know what Will of Warwick--and he speaks sound sense, mind you, does Will--of Warwick; as good as any of your modish Sedleys, and Shadwells, and--and--'sleep, sleep, Nature's'--how does it go? Why, to be sure--'Nature's soft--nurse.' Come, Master Lee, how goes it? You should know. By my faith, but you should. Ay--so it runs--'How have I frighted thee.' Marry, come up! What's next? 'That thou--no more shouldst weigh mine eyelids down'--and--and--"

But then, like a wise physician who puts faith in his own prescription, Master Alworth's senses sank steeped in forgetfulness, his head drooped gently among the cushions, and a profound snore fell upon the silence.

Lawrence's face grew dark with vexation. Could anything be more tiresome and inopportune? The church clock struck eleven. A fearfully late hour for those good old times, when "early to bed, and early to rise" made everybody "so healthy, and wealthy, and wise."

"Master Alworth," said Lee gently, though he was biting his lip all the while with impatience. "Master Alworth, by your leave--I will bid you good-night."

A second and deeper snore was the response.

"And farewell," shouted Lee.

"Eyelids down; eyelids--down," murmured the sleeper.

[Sidenote: How to save the King?]

"Nay, but begone I must," muttered Lawrence, starting up and pushing back his chair, while his eyes despairingly contemplated his slumbering host, until suddenly a light flashed into them. "Let's see what a shake will do," he went on to himself, approaching Alworth's chair, and suiting his action to his words with no gentle hand. It produced no effect beyond an angry snort of remonstrance from the sleeper, who turned in his chair only to settle more comfortably. "What is to be done?" ejaculated Lawrence, casting desperate glances towards the door, as if he intended making a run for it. "Another half hour--a quarter, even, and--"

Something which fell with a faint jingle and a clash to the floor at his feet, interrupted his speculations. He stooped to pick it up.

It was Master Alworth's gold chain, whose elaborate fastening had apparently missed touching home in his drowsy attempts to clasp it.

"Adieu, then," he said, placing the chain noiselessly beside his host's plate, and wafting him a kiss from his finger-tips; "for I must be taking French leave, if you will not be having an English one," and he turned to escape noiselessly from the room.

The first step he took, however, brought his foot down upon some small hard object. He picked it up. It was the key, which must have slipped from the goldsmith's chain when it glided from his neck to the cushions of the chair, and thence, as he had turned himself about, to the floor.

[Sidenote: Mad fancies]

"Oh, ho!" laughed Lee, looking at the key as it lay in the palm of his hand; "you're a mighty slippery little customer!" and he was about to lay it with the chain, when he gave a start, and stood stock still, as if some sudden idea had mastered him; and still holding the key, he gazed from it towards the sphinx with thoughtful speculative eyes. Could it be that she was winking her heavy lids? Were her grim lips curving into a meaning smile until her very jaws seemed to be opening? or was it all only the shadowy flicker of the dying lamp? or perhaps a mere delusion of the young man's already highly excited brain.

Lawrence knew only that the half-mocking, half-goodnatured face beckoned him irresistibly.

[Sidenote: The false panel.]

One instant he stood hesitating. The next, he had seized the lamp, and with the key in his hand was on his knees before the panel.