wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable – so all said that heard it. The tide was beginning to turn, and Tom Canty’s hopes to run high, when the Lord Protector shook his head and said—
“It is true it is most wonderful – but it is no more than our lord the King likewise can do.” This remark, and this reference to himself as still the King, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his hopes crumbling from under him. “These are not proofs,” added the Protector.
The tide was turning very fast now, very fast indeed – but in the wrong direction; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on the throne, and sweeping the other out to sea. The Lord Protector communed with himself – shook his head – the thought forced itself upon him, “It is perilous to the State and to us all, to entertain so fateful a riddle as this; it could divide the nation and undermine the throne.” He turned and said—
“Sir Thomas, arrest this— No, hold!” His face lighted, and he confronted the ragged candidate with this question—
“Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this truly, and the riddle is unriddled; for only he that was Prince of Wales can so answer! On so trivial a thing hang a throne and a dynasty!”
It was a lucky thought, a happy thought. That it was so considered by the great officials was manifested by the silent applause that shot from eye to eye around their circle in the form of bright approving glances. Yes, none but the true prince could dissolve the stubborn mystery of the vanished Great Seal – this forlorn little impostor had been taught his lesson well, but here his teachings must fail, for his teacher himself could not answer that question – ah, very good, very good indeed; now we shall be rid of this troublesome and perilous business in short order! And so they nodded invisibly and smiled inwardly with satisfaction, and looked to see this foolish lad stricken with a palsy of guilty confusion. How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of the sort happen – how they marvelled to hear him answer up promptly, in a confident and untroubled voice, and say—
“There is nought in this riddle that is difficult.” Then, without so much as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave this command, with the easy manner of one accustomed to doing such things: “My Lord St. John, go you to my private cabinet in the palace – for none knoweth the place better than you – and, close down to the floor, in the left corner remotest from the door that opens from the ante-chamber, you shall find in the wall a brazen nail-head; press upon it and a little jewel-closet will fly open which not even you do know of – no, nor any soul else in all the world but me and the trusty artisan that did contrive it for me. The first thing that falleth under your eye will be the Great Seal – fetch it hither.”
All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still more to see the little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancy or apparent fear of mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly convincing air of having known him all his life. The peer was almost surprised into obeying. He even made a movement as if to go, but quickly recovered his tranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with a blush. Tom Canty turned upon him and said, sharply—
“Why dost thou hesitate? Hast not heard the King’s command? Go!”
The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance – and it was observed that it was a significantly cautious and non-committal one, it not being delivered at either of the kings, but at the neutral ground about half-way between the two – and took his leave.
Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that official group which was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady and persistent – a movement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is turned slowly, whereby the components of one splendid cluster fall away and join themselves to another – a movement which, little by little, in the present case, dissolved the glittering crowd that stood about Tom Canty and clustered it together again in the neighbourhood of the new-comer. Tom Canty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief season of deep suspense and waiting – during which even the few faint hearts still remaining near Tom Canty gradually scraped together courage enough to glide, one by one, over to the majority. So at last Tom Canty, in his royal robes and jewels, stood wholly alone and isolated from the world, a conspicuous figure, occupying an eloquent vacancy.
Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As he advanced up the mid-aisle the interest was so intense that the low murmur of conversation in the great assemblage died out and was succeeded by a profound hush, a breathless stillness, through which his footfalls pulsed with a dull and distant sound. Every eye was fastened upon him as he moved along. He reached the platform, paused a moment, then moved toward Tom Canty with a deep obeisance, and said—
“Sire, the Seal is not there!”
A mob does not melt away from the presence of a plague-patient with more haste than the band of pallid and terrified courtiers melted away from the presence of the shabby little claimant of the Crown. In a moment he stood all alone, without friend or supporter, a target upon which was concentrated a bitter fire of scornful and angry looks. The Lord Protector called out fiercely—
“Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him through the town – the paltry knave is worth no more consideration!”
Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but Tom Canty waved them off and said—
“Back! Whoso touches him perils his life!”
The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last degree. He said to the Lord St. John—
“Searched you well? – but it boots not to ask that. It doth seem passing strange. Little things, trifles, slip out of one’s ken, and one does not think it matter for surprise; but how so bulky a thing as the Seal of England can vanish away and no man be able to get track of it again – a massy golden disk—”
Tom Canty, with beaming eyes, sprang forward and shouted—
“Hold, that is enough! Was it round? – and thick? – and had it letters and devices graved upon it? – yes? Oh, now I know what this Great Seal is that there’s been such worry and pother about. An’ ye had described it to me, ye could have had it three weeks ago. Right well I know where it lies; but it was not I that put it there – first.”
“Who, then, my liege?” asked the Lord Protector.
“He that stands there – the rightful King of England. And he shall tell you himself where it lies – then you will believe he knew it of his own knowledge. Bethink thee, my King – spur thy memory – it was the last, the very last thing thou didst that day before thou didst rush forth from the palace, clothed in my rags, to punish the soldier that insulted me.”
A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or a whisper, and all eyes were fixed upon the new-comer, who stood, with bent head and corrugated brow, groping in his memory among a thronging multitude of valueless recollections for one single little elusive fact, which, found, would seat him upon a throne – unfound, would leave him as he was, for good and all – a pauper and an outcast. Moment after moment passed – the moments built themselves into minutes – still the boy struggled silently on, and gave no sign. But at last he heaved a sigh, shook his head slowly, and said, with a trembling lip and in a despondent voice—
“I call the scene back
