Trenchard sped after Wilding, who was elbowing his way through the yokels about the steps.

The glare of a newly lighted lamp from the doorway fell full upon his long white face as he advanced, and Venner espied and recognized him.
"Mr.Wilding!" he cried, and there was a glad ring in his voice, for though cobblers, tailors, deserters from the militia, pot-boys, stable-boys, and shuffling yokels had been coming in in numbers during the past few hours since the Declaration had been read, this was the first gentleman that arrived to welcome Monmouth.

The soldier stretched out a hand to grasp the newcomer's.

"His Grace will see you this instant, not a doubt of it." He turned and called down the passage.
"Cragg!" A young man in a buff coat came forward, and to him Venner delivered Wilding and Trenchard that he might announce them to His Grace.
In the room that had been set apart for him abovestairs, Monmouth still sat at table.

He had just supped, with but an indifferent appetite, so fevered was he by the events of his landing.