This
resplendent person was for the nonce humility's self. I went with him and
was made clean and comfortable, and my rags trimmed a little.
This was preliminary to being summoned by Master Freake to a discussion
with their lordships, with whom was Margaret, aloof and icy.
"At the 'Ring o' Bells,'" began Master Freake, addressing me, "you took
from my lord Brocton's sergeant, now dead, a bundle of papers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Among them a letter addressed simply, 'To His Royal Highness'?"
"That is so, sir."
"You gave that letter to me, unopened, in the presence of Mistress
Waynflete?"
"I did," said I, and Margaret nodded agreement.
"Several attempts have been made to recover the letter from you?"
"At least three such attempts were made by the late sergeant, and two by
my lord Brocton," I replied.
"Their lordships' urgent need of recovering the letter is thus proven,
and the Court will attach due weight to the facts," said Master Freake.
Brocton turned white as a sheet, and the old rogue shook as a dead leaf
shakes on its twig before the wind strips it off. There was in them none
of the family pride which keeps the great families agoing.
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