Rupert turned scarlet with confusion.

“His looks betray him,” the earl laughed.  “Look, girls, at the mild-tempered young gentleman.

“Now, out with it.  How was it?”

Thus exhorted, Rupert very stammeringly gave an account of the fray in which he had been engaged.

“Von Duyk!” the earl said.  “She must be a daughter of the great merchant of Dort—­a useful friend to have made, maybe, Master Holliday; and it may be that your adventure may even be of service to the state.  Never speak now, Master Rupert, of your peaceful intentions.  You take after your namesake, the Prince, and are a veritable knight errant of adventure.  The sooner I have you over in Holland fighting the queen’s enemies, and not the queen’s subjects, the better.

“Now tell me, where have you taken up your abode?”

“At the Bell, at Bishopsgate Street,” Rupert answered.

“And your follower, for I know one accompanied you; where is he?”

“He waits without, sir.”

The earl touched a hand bell.

“Fetch in Master Holliday’s retainer; you will find him without.  Make him at home in the servant’s hall.  Send a messenger down to the Bell at Bishopsgate, fetch hither the mails of Master Holliday; he will remain as my guest at present.”

Rupert now entered upon a life very different to that which he had led hitherto.  He received a letter from Colonel Holliday, enclosing an order on a London banker for fifty pounds, and he was soon provided with suits of clothes fit for balls and other occasions.  Wherever the earl went, Rupert accompanied him as one of his personal followers; and the frank, straightforward manners of the lad pleased the ladies of the court, and thus “Little Holliday,” as he was called, soon became a great favourite.

It was about a fortnight after his arrival in town that, for the first time, he accompanied his friends Sir John Loveday and Lord Fairholm to the fencing school of Maitre Dalboy, the great fencing master of the day.  Rupert had been looking forward much to this visit, as he was anxious to see what was the degree of proficiency of the young court gallants in the art which he so much loved.

Maitre Dalboy’s school was a fashionable lounge of the young men of the court and army.  It was a large and lofty room, and some six assistants were in the act of giving instructions to beginners, or of fencing with more advanced students, when the trio entered.  Maitre Dalboy himself came up to greet them, for both Rupert’s friends had been his pupils.

“You are strangers,” he said reproachfully.  “How are your muscles to keep in good order, and your eye true, if you do not practise?  It is heart rending!  I take every pains to turn out accomplished swordsmen; and no sooner have my pupils learned something of the business, than they begin to forget it.”

“We shall begin to put your teaching into effect before long, Maitre Dalboy,” Sir John Loveday said, with a smile, “for we are going over to join the army in Holland in a few weeks, and we shall then have an opportunity of trying the utility of the parries you have taught us.”