Hendon forced back a smile, and bent down and whispered in the King’s ear— “Softly, softly, my prince, wag thy tongue warily—nay, suffer it not to wag at all.  Trust in me—all shall go well in the end.” Then he added to himself:  “Sir Miles!  Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a knight! Lord, how marvellous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth take upon his quaint and crazy fancies! . . . An empty and foolish title is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it; for I think it is more honour to be held worthy to be a spectre-knight in his Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of the real kingdoms of this world.”
The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was about to lay his hand upon the King’s shoulder, when Hendon said—
“Gently, good friend, withhold your hand—he shall go peaceably; I am responsible for that.  Lead on, we will follow.”
 
The officer led, with the woman and her bundle; Miles and the King followed after, with the crowd at their heels.  The King was inclined to rebel; but Hendon said to him in a low voice—
“Reflect, Sire—your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty; shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect them? Apparently one of these laws has been broken; when the King is on his throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was seemingly a private person he loyally sank the king in the citizen and submitted to its authority?”
“Thou art right; say no more; thou shalt see that whatsoever the King of England requires a subject to suffer, under the law, he will himself suffer while he holdeth the station of a subject.”
When the woman was called upon to testify before the justice of the peace, she swore that the small prisoner at the bar was the person who had committed the theft; there was none able to show the contrary, so the King stood convicted.  The bundle was now unrolled, and when the contents proved to be a plump little dressed pig, the judge looked troubled, whilst Hendon turned pale, and his body was thrilled with an electric shiver of dismay; but the King remained unmoved, protected by his ignorance.  The judge meditated, during an ominous pause, then turned to the woman, with the question—
“What dost thou hold this property to be worth?”
The woman courtesied and replied—
“Three shillings and eightpence, your worship—I could not abate a penny and set forth the value honestly.”
The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon the crowd, then nodded to the constable, and said—
“Clear the court and close the doors.”
It was done.  None remained but the two officials, the accused, the accuser, and Miles Hendon.  This latter was rigid and colourless, and on his forehead big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blended together, and trickled down his face.  The judge turned to the woman again, and said, in a compassionate voice—
“’Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven hard by hunger, for these be grievous times for the unfortunate; mark you, he hath not an evil face—but when hunger driveth—Good woman! dost know that when one steals ............