”

“For any _man_--no; haply not.  But I am not a man.”

“_What_!  Now o’ God’s name what art thou, then?”

“It is a secret--mark thou reveal it not.  I am an archangel!”

There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles Hendon--not altogether
unprofane--followed by--

“This doth well and truly account for his complaisance!  Right well
I knew he would budge nor hand nor foot in the menial service of any
mortal; but, lord, even a king must obey when an archangel gives the
word o’ command!  Let me--‘sh!  What noise was that?”

All this while the little King had been yonder, alternately quaking with
terror and trembling with hope; and all the while, too, he had thrown
all the strength he could into his anguished moanings, constantly
expecting them to reach Hendon’s ear, but always realising, with
bitterness, that they failed, or at least made no impression.