"And what a tale the owner of it carried.

If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne." "'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively.

Yet each of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this product of another world.
Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at the door, he called out: "Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour ago." The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room, Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!" The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange presence comes into the room.

He saw, standing near the door, a tall and comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born.

The stranger advanced and bowed gravely.