This alarmed the young
fellow, and he was going to make a noise; but I said:
"Save your wind; if you open your mouth you are dead, sure. Tackle
your instrument. Lively, now! Call Camelot."
"This doth amaze me! How should such as you know aught of such
matters as--"
"Call Camelot! I am a desperate man. Call Camelot, or get away
from the instrument and I will do it myself."
"What--you?"
"Yes--certainly. Stop gabbling. Call the palace."
He made the call.
"Now, then, call Clarence."
"Clarence _who_?"
"Never mind Clarence who. Say you want Clarence; you'll get
an answer."
He did so. We waited five nerve-straining minutes--ten minutes
--how long it did seem!--and then came a click that was as familiar
to me as a human voice; for Clarence had been my own pupil.
"Now, my lad, vacate! They would have known _my_ touch, maybe,
and so your call was surest; but I'm all right now."
He vacated the place and cocked his ear to listen--but it didn't
win. I used a cipher. I didn't waste any time in sociabilities
with Clarence, but squared away for business, straight-off--thus:
"The king is here and in danger.
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