En route for the Hague he spoke of him to my lord.
“Mynheer de Staal hath a great regard for you, sir.”
“Yes,” replied Roxhythe, unmoved.
They found Mr. Milward at the Poisson d’Or. He seemed relieved to see them. Roxhythe invited him to dinner and Christopher went forth to meet his brother.
He and Roderick dined at a little inn not far from the Palace. They had not met for two years, and there was much to be said on both sides. Not until dinner was over did Roderick speak of Roxhythe. Then he went straight to the point.
“Christopher, what induced you to enter the service of that man?”
“That man?” interrogated Christopher with uplifted brows.
“Lord Roxhythe.”
“He was in need of a secretary; I, of work.”
“There are a score of better men in need of secretaries!”
“Indeed?”
“Don’t speak like that, child! You should have consulted me. I might have known you would act foolishly when my father died.”
“I am perfectly well able to care for myself! And I resent—your tone!”
Roderick ignored this.
“Were my father alive he would be more than displeased to see you in such company.”
“Roderick, what do you mean? What have you against my lord?”
“What every sane man has against him. He is a libertine—a rakehelly fellow, with no morals, and less honour.”
“How dare you say that? He is no more rakehell than the others at Whitehall! And as to honour!—You speak of what you do not know!”
“Do I so? Even an what you say is true, which it is not—that he is no more rakehell than the rest of that licentious circle, it is no excuse for entering his service. I would not have my brother in the company of one of them.”
Christopher essayed a sneer.
“Why, are you turned Puritan?”
“I am no more Puritan than ever I was, as you very well know. Had I been in England a month ago I would have prevented you taking this disastrous step.”
“And I tell you that you would not! My Lord Roxhythe is a very honourable, brave gentleman, and I am proud to be in his service!”
“A patriotic gentleman also, I suppose?”
“Yes!”
“You are infatuated.”
“Then so are you! What induced you to enter the Prince of Orange his service? I would not work for a foreigner!”
Roderick gripped his wrist, shaking him.
“You young fool, be silent!”
“Why?” Christopher stared.
“Do you think no Dutchman understands English that you shout what might be mine undoing in an inn parlour?”
“Your pardon!” … Christopher rolled the words out caressingly. “I had forgot you played a double part. Odds-life, Roderick! I would not serve two men as you do. To my mind it is no gentlemanly thing to do.”
Roderick coloured angrily.
“You do not understand. I serve the Prince and no other!”
“Who is imprudent now?” jeered Christopher. “I thought you served De Witt once? Your devotion to the Orange smacks somewhat of double-dealing.”
“I am not going to quarrel with you, Christopher.”
“Then do not seek to malign my master to me! I know him as you do not, and I tell you he is the soul of honour!”
“You fool,” said Dart quietly. “Do you believe that? I warn you that one day you will be disillusioned. Roxhythe works for himself alone. He would dupe you did the need arise, or crush you beneath his heel. You think him a man of scruples, but I tell you—and I know—that he is without heart and without honour. Chris, you are very young, be advised by me and quit his service. He only wants you for a tool.”
“ ’Tis you who are the fool! My Lord wants me for a secretary! There is no question of duping, or tools.”
“Do you deny then that you are with him solely for the purpose of bringing King Charles his message to the Prince?”
Christopher was silent.
“Roxhythe hath it in mind to use you in his machinations for his master. And if you are overnice in your scruples, he’ll trick you. Be warned, Chris, I implore you!”
“You are undoubtedly mad,” said Christopher with conviction. “If I were required to work for His Majesty there would be no need of trickery. I would die for His Majesty and the Country.”
“You cannot die twice!” snapped Roderick.
“The King and his Country are one, as you should know.”
“Are they?” said Roderick heavily. “Not your King and his Country.”
“You are disloyal! My King? He is also yours!”
“Alas, yes!”
Christopher betrayed anxiety.
“Roderick, consorting with these stiff-necked Dutchmen has affected your brain. I do not pretend to understand this strange talk of yours. You had best quit Holland and come home!”
“My dear brother, living as I do, I have had opportunities of studying politics, and of viewing politicians and Princes that you have not. I have seen the intrigues within intrigues that are always afoot—the treachery, the lying! More I cannot say, but rest assured that I speak the truth. I have seen what manner of men live in England and in France, and I know that amongst them all there is not one who is honest. There is only one man to be trusted. Him, I serve.”
“You have become bigoted, Dick, and hard. What you say is utterly false. Is it possible that you think your master the one honest man? Why, even I, whom you so freely call fool, am not so mad!”
Roderick sighed.
“I see you will go your own wilful way, Chris. You have fallen a victim to Roxhythe’s notorious charm, and I suppose you will follow him headlong to destruction.”
Christopher leaned his head in his hands and gave way to helpless laughter. When he had recovered, Roderick started to talk on some other topic. They spoke no more of Roxhythe that evening.
My lord was in his dressing-gown when Christopher came back to the inn. He gave his secretary one shrewd, calculating glance.
“You look heated, Chris. You have been quarrelling with your brother.”
“Nearly,” said Christopher. “I fear for his sanity. He speaks so wildly, and so foolishly.”
“In fact he disapproves of my Lord Roxhythe most sincerely,” nodded his
