“Is His Highness then surrounded by men whom he can trust?”
“The Prince his servants are faithful unto death,” was the proud answer.
“His Highness is singularly fortunate,” said Roxhythe drily.
Roderick pushed his chair back from the table.
“Have we dilly-dallied long enough, sir? You have business with my master?”
For a moment Roxhythe did not answer. Then he spoke slowly, his eyes on Dart’s.
“Why, I do not know, sir. It depends.”
“On what?”
“On who your master is,” said my lord.
Roderick looked puzzled. He flushed angrily as Roxhythe’s meaning dawned on him, and half rose in his chair.
“Do you insult me, my lord?”
“By no means,” replied that imperturbable voice. “I was told that De Witt chose you to be one of the Prince his gentlemen. You speak of yourself as the Prince his faithful servant. What am I to understand?”
“I am the Prince his servant.”
“Yet you are not suspect by De Witt?”
“No.”
“You are lucky,” smiled his lordship.
“There is no reason why I should give you an explanation, sir, but you may know that I was engaged not as an informer, but as one not likely to be won over by His Highness. So Mynheer De Witt said.”
“I take it Mynheer De Witt was wrong?”
“Ay. You do not know His Highness or you might understand.”
Roxhythe bowed.
“I am looking forward to making the acquaintance of this Prince.”
“You are a messenger?” Roderick surveyed him critically. “An envoy from King Charles?”
“I have that honour.”
“You want me to bear a packet to His Highness?”
“No,” said Roxhythe. “I want you to help me to gain access to the Prince.”
Roderick gasped at his audacity.
“Impossible!”
“A word I do not know,” drawled his lordship.
“The Prince will not receive you!”
“I think he will.”
“He will require proof of your identity!”
“He shall have it,” Roxhythe drew a heavy signet ring from his finger, and laid it before his guest.
Roderick stared down at the magic initials: C. R. There was no mistaking the ring. For a minute he sat thinking. Roxhythe polished his thumbnail.
“I may take this to His Highness?” asked Roderick, at last.
“You may.”
“And there is no packet to be conveyed?”
“None that I cannot convey myself.”
“I think His Highness will require you to send it!” flashed Roderick.
“Alas! My orders are to deliver it into his hands myself.”
“In that case there is no more to be said. You seem to think it is an easy matter to gain access to the Prince. Pray have you thought how you will do it?”
“No,” said Roxhythe. “I never worry myself unnecessarily.”
“Unnecessarily!”
“You see, I leave it to you,” said my lord sweetly.
“Indeed! Remember, I hold out no hope.”
“I am dismayed,” said Roxhythe placidly.
VII
William of Orange
Roxhythe had scarcely finished his breakfast next morning when once again Mr. Dart was announced.
Roderick was colder than ever. He returned King Charles’ ring to my lord.
“His Highness commands me to say that he will receive you this evening, sir.”
“Yes?” said Roxhythe. He drew forward a chair. “Can I offer you breakfast?”
“Thank you, I breakfasted two hours since,” said Roderick.
“Then you must be very hungry,” sympathised my lord. “Allow me to cut you some of this quite excellent bacon!”
“Thank you, no.”
Roxhythe sighed.
“You must know, sir, that His Highness has been suffering from a slight indisposition these last few days which has compelled him to keep his room.”
“I did not know.” Roxhythe was gravely concerned. “I am grieved to hear it.”
“You misunderstand me, sir. The Prince had intended to leave his room today, but since you are to have audience with him he deems it more prudent to allow De Witt’s spies to think him still unwell. If you will come to the Palace tonight at eight and ask for me, you will be taken to my rooms which are at some distance from the Prince’s. You understand that I am not suspect, so my guests may come unchallenged. I have already spoken of you to the Governor, Mynheer Van Ghent, and he is satisfied. You may trust me to smuggle you to the Prince his apartments.”
“Very neat,” approved Roxhythe. “Be assured that I shall be punctual.”
“If you please,” bowed Roderick, and took his leave.
“If the Prince his manners are like those of his servants, I am like to enjoy myself,” reflected Roxhythe. “Odd’s blood, but the young cockerel might be equerry to His Most Christian Majesty from the airs that he affects. … A damned Puritan lot,” he added gloomily.
In spite of this nonchalance, Roxhythe was curious to see Prince William. He had always heard that he was a youth of parts, and he thought now that he must be a youth of very forceful parts if all he had gathered from Roderick’s conversation were true.
At eight o’clock he presented himself at the Palace. He was conducted through the great hall, up the stairs, and along a corridor to a small, sparsely-furnished room.
Roderick rose and came forward, hands outstretched.
“Ah, Curtis! So you have come!” In Dutch he addressed the servant. “Bring glasses, Hans.”
The man withdrew.
“I must ask you to await his return,” said Roderick stiffly.
Roxhythe was shaken with silent laughter. Mr. Dart’s cordiality had dropped from him so suddenly.
Roderick eyed him with cold hostility.
“I think, too, that you had best retain your hat, sir, or stand with your back to the door.”
My lord bent over the fire, warming his hands.
“I trust your face has not been too closely observed,” continued Roderick.
Roxhythe always complained that Mr. Dart thought him a fool.
The servant reappeared. He set glasses on the table, drew corks, and retired.
“I do not wish to be disturbed, Hans,” warned Roderick.
“No, Mynheer.” The door closed softly.
Roxhythe picked up his hat and gloves. Roderick nodded.
“If you will follow me, please.”
The mocking light had gone out of my lord’s eyes. Roderick looked into the barrel of a small, gold-mounted pistol.
“I deplore the seeming churlishness of my behaviour,” said Roxhythe, “but if there should be foul play, Mr. Dart, you will suffer for it.”
Roderick was scornful.
“You may put that plaything away, my lord. There will be no treachery.”
“You relieve me,” said his lordship,
