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The Midnight Queen [55]

By Root 1989 0
come here, but fell here, through

that hole, if you perceive, and very much against my will."



"Equivocation will not serve you in this case, sir," said the

queen, with an austere dignity. "And, allow me to observe, it is

just probable you would not have fallen through that hole in our

royal ceiling if you had kept away from it. You raised that flag

yourself - did you not?"



"Madam, I fear I must say yes!"



"And why did you do so?" demanded her majesty, with far more

sharp asperity than Sir Norman dreamed could ever come from such

beautiful lips.



"The rumor of Queen Miranda's charms has gone forth; and I fear I

must own that rumor drew me hither," responded Sir Norman,

inventing a polite little work of fiction for the occasion; "and,

let me add, that I came to find that rumor had under-rated

instead of exaggerated her majesty's said charms."



Here Sir Norman, whose spine seemed in danger of becoming the

shape of a rainbow, in excess of good breeding, made another

genuflection before the queen, with his hand over the region of

his heart. Miranda tried to look grave, and wear that expression

of severe solemnity I am told queens and rich people always do;

but, in spite of herself, a little pleased smile rippled over her

face; and, noticing it, and the bow and speech, the prince

suddenly and sharply set up such another screech of laughter as

no steamboat or locomotive, in the present age of steam, could

begin to equal in ghastliness.



"Will your highness have the goodness to hold your tongue?"

inquired the queen, with much the air and look of Mrs. Caudle,

"and allow me to ask this stranger a few questions uninterrupted?

Sir Norman Kingsley, how long have you been above there,

listening and looking on?"



"Madame, I was not there five minutes when I suddenly, and to my

great surprise, found myself here."



"A lie! - a lie!" exclaimed the dwarf, furiously. "It is over

two hours since I met you at the bar of the Golden Crown."



"My dear little friend," said Sir Norman, drawing his sword, and

flourishing it within an inch of the royal nose, "just make that

remark again, and my sword will cleave your pretty head, as the

cimetar of Saladin clove the cushion of down! I earnestly assure

you, madame, that I had but just knelt down to look, when I

discovered to my dismay, that I was no longer there, but in your

charming presence."



"In that case, my lords and gentlemen," said the queen, glancing

blandly round the apartment, "he has witnessed nothing, and,

therefore, merits but slight punishment."



"Permit me, your majesty," said the duke, who had read the roll

of death, and who had been eyeing Sir Norman sharply for some

time, "permit me one moment! This is the very individual who

slew the Earl of Ashley, while his companion was doing for my

Lord Craven. Sir Norman Kingsley," said his grace, turning, with

awful impressiveness to that young person, "do you know me?"



"Quite as well as I wish to," answered Sir Norman, with a cool

and rather contemptuous glance in his direction. "You look

extremely like a certain highwayman, with a most villainous

countenance, I encountered a few hours back, and whom I would

have made mince most of if he lead not been coward enough to fly.

Probably you may be the name; you look fit for that, or anything

else."



"Cut him down!" "Dash his brains out!" "Run him through!" "Shoot

him!" were a few of the mild and pleasant insinuations that went

off on every side of him, like a fierce volley of pop-guns; and a

score of bright blades flashed blue and threatening on every

side; while the prince broke out into another shriek of laughter,

that rang high over all.



Sir Norman drew his own sword, and stood on the defence, breathed

one thought to Leoline, gave himself up for lost; but before

quite doing so - to use a phrase not altogether as original as it

might be - "determined
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