“Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail alive?”

Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply—­

“Will you trust in me?  Peace! and forbear to worsen our chances with dangerous speech.  What God wills, will happen; thou canst not hurry it, thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be patient—­’twill be time enow to rail or rejoice when what is to happen has happened.” {1}

Chapter XXIV.  The escape.

The short winter day was nearly ended.  The streets were deserted, save for a few random stragglers, and these hurried straight along, with the intent look of people who were only anxious to accomplish their errands as quickly as possible, and then snugly house themselves from the rising wind and the gathering twilight.  They looked neither to the right nor to the left; they paid no attention to our party, they did not even seem to see them.  Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a king on his way to jail had ever encountered such marvellous indifference before.  By-and-by the constable arrived at a deserted market-square, and proceeded to cross it.  When he had reached the middle of it, Hendon laid his hand upon his arm, and said in a low voice—­

“Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hearing, and I would say a word to thee.”

“My duty forbids it, sir; prithee hinder me not, the night comes on.”

“Stay, nevertheless, for the matter concerns thee nearly.  Turn thy back a moment and seem not to see:  Let this poor lad escape.”

“This to me, sir!  I arrest thee in—­”

“Nay, be not too hasty.  See thou be careful and commit no foolish error”—­then he shut his voice down to a whisper, and said in the man’s ear—­“the pig thou hast purchased for eightpence may cost thee thy neck, man!”

The poor constable, taken by surprise, was speechless, at first, then found his tongue and fell to blustering and threatening; but Hendon was tranquil, and waited with patience till his breath was spent; then said—­

“I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not willingly see thee come to harm.  Observe, I heard it all—­every word.  I will prove it to thee.”  Then he repeated the conversation which the officer and the woman had had together in the hall, word for word, and ended with—­

“There—­have I set it forth correctly?  Should not I be able to set it forth correctly before the judge, if occasion required?”

The man was dumb with fear and distress, for a moment; then he rallied, and said with forced lightness—­

“’Tis making a mighty matter, indeed, out of a jest; I but plagued the woman for mine amusement.”

“Kept you the woman’s pig for amusement?”

The man answered sharply—­

“Nought else, good sir—­I tell thee ’twas but a jest.”

“I do begin to believe thee,” said Hendon, with a perplexing mixture of mockery and half-conviction in his tone; “but tarry thou here a moment whilst I run and ask his worship—­for nathless, he being a man experienced in law, in jests, in—­”