The Rafael Sabatini Megapack. Rafael Sabatini
this accusation being lodged against you by Richard or by Blake. Then the Cause would have been betrayed, indeed.”
“Not more so than it is now.
“Not less, at least,” snapped the player. “You give me credit for no more wit than yourself. Do you think that I am the man to do things by halves? I have betrayed the plot to Albemarle; but do you imagine I have made no provision for what must follow?”
“Provision?” echoed Wilding, staring.
“Aye, provision. God lack! What do you suppose Albemarle will do?”
“Dispatch a messenger to Whitehall with the letter within an hour.”
“You perceive it, do you? And where the plague do you think Nick Trenchard’ll be what time that messenger rides?”
Mr. Wilding understood. “Aye, you may stare,” sneered Trenchard. “A letter that has once been stolen may be stolen again. The courier must go by way of Walford. I had in my mind arranged the spot, close by the ford, where I should fall upon him, rob him of his dispatches, and take him—bound hand and foot if necessary—to Vallancey’s, who lives close by; and there I’d leave him until word came that the Duke had landed.”
“That the Duke had landed?” cried Wilding. “You talk as though the thing were imminent.”
“And imminent it is. For aught we know he may be in England already.”
Mr. Wilding laughed impatiently. “You must forever be building on these crack-brained rumours, Nick,” said he.
“Rumours!” roared the other. “Rumours? Ha!” He checked his wild scorn, and proceeded in a different key. “I was forgetting. You do not know the Contents of that stolen letter.”
Wilding started. Underlying his disbelief in the talk of the countryside, and even in the military measures which by the King’s orders were being taken in the West, was an uneasy dread lest they should prove to be well founded, lest Argyle’s operations in Scotland should be but the forerunner of a rash and premature invasion by Monmouth. He knew the Duke was surrounded by such reckless, foolhardy counsellors as Grey and Ferguson—and yet he could not think the Duke would ruin all by coming before he had definite word that his friends were ready. He looked at Trenchard now with anxious eyes.
“Have you seen the letter, Nick?” he asked, and almost dreaded the reply.
“Albemarle showed it me an hour ago,” said Trenchard.
“And it contains?”
“The news we fear. It is in the Duke’s own hand, and intimates that he will follow it in a few days—in a few days, man in person.”
Mr. Wilding clenched teeth and hands. “God help us all, then!” he muttered grimly.
“Meanwhile,” quoth Trenchard, bringing him back to the point, “there is this precious business here. I had as choice a plan as could have been devised, and it must have succeeded, had you not come blundering into it to mar it all at the last moment. That fat fool Albemarle had swallowed my impeachment like a draught of muscadine. Do you hear me?” he ended sharply, for Mr. Wilding stood bemused, his thoughts plainly wandering.
He let his hand fall upon Trenchard’s shoulder. “No,” said he, “I wasn’t listening. No matter; for even had I known the full extent of your scheme I still must have interfered.”
“For the sake of Mistress Westmacott’s blue eyes, no doubt,” sneered Trenchard. “Pah! Wherever there’s a woman there’s the loss of a man.”
“For the sake of Mistress Wilding’s blue eyes,” his friend corrected him. “I’ll allow no brother of hers to hang in my place.”
“It will be interesting to see how you will rescue him.”
“By telling the truth to Albemarle.”
“He’ll not believe it.”
“I shall prove it,” said Wilding quietly. Trenchard swung round upon him in mingled anger and alarm for him. “You shall not do it!” he snarled. “It is nothing short of treason to the Duke to get yourself laid by the heels at such a time as this.”
“I hope to avoid it,” answered Wilding confidently.
“Avoid it? How?” “Not by staying longer here in talk. That will ruin all. Away with you, Trenchard!”
“By my soul, no!” answered Trenchard. “I’ll not leave you. If I have got you into this, I’ll help to get you out again, or stay in it with you.”
“Bethink you of Monmouth?” Wilding admonished him.
“Damn Monmouth!” was the vicious answer. “I am here, and here I stay.”
“Get to horse, you fool, and ride to Walford as you proposed, there to ambush the messenger. The letter will go to Whitehall none the less in spite of what I shall tell Albemarle. If things go well with me, I shall join you at Vallancey’s before long.”
“Why, if that is your intention,” said Trenchard, “I had better stay, and we can ride together. It will make it less uncertain for you.”
“But less certain for you.”
“The more reason why I should remain.”
The door of the hall was suddenly flung open at the far end of the corridor, and Albemarle’s booming voice, impatiently raised, reached them where they stood.
“In any case,” added Trenchard, “it seems there is no help for it now.”
Mr. Wilding shrugged his shoulders, but otherwise dissembled his vexation. Up the passage floated the constable’s voice calling them.
Side by side they moved down, and side by side they stepped once more into the presence of Christopher Monk and his associates.
“Sirs, you have not been in haste,” was the Duke’s ill-humoured greeting.
“We have tarried a little that we might make an end the sooner,” answered Trenchard dryly, and this was the first indication he gave Mr. Wilding of how naturally—like the inimitable actor that he was—he had slipped into his new role.
Albemarle waved the frivolous rejoinder aside. “Come, Mr. Wilding,” said he, “let us hear what you may have to say. You are not, I take it, about to urge any reasons why these rogues should not be committed?”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Wilding, “that is what I am about to urge.”
Blake and Richard looked at him suddenly, and from him to Trenchard; but it was only Ruth whose eyes were shrewd enough to observe the altered demeanour of the latter. Her hopes rose, founded upon this oddly assorted pair. Already in anticipation she was stirred by gratitude towards Wilding, and it was in impatient and almost wondering awe that she waited for him to proceed.
“I take it, sir,” he said, without waiting for Albemarle to express any of the fresh astonishment his countenance manifested, “that the accusation against these gentlemen rests entirely upon the letter which you have been led to believe was addressed to Mr. Westmacott.”
The Duke scowled a moment before replying. “Why,” said he, “if it could be shown—irrefutably shown—that the letter was not addressed to either of them, that would no doubt establish the truth of what they say—that they possessed themselves of the letter in the interests of His Majesty.” He turned to Luttrell and Phelips, and they nodded their concurrence with his view of the matter. “But,” he continued, “if you are proposing to prove any such thing, I think you will find it difficult.”
Mr. Wilding drew a crumpled paper from his pocket. “When the courier whom they robbed, as they have correctly informed you,” said he quietly, “suspected their design upon the contents of his wallet, he bethought him of removing the wrapper from the letter, so that in case the letter were seized by them it should prove nothing against any man in particular.