“You would do well to sit down, Mr. Ferguson,” said my lord softly.
Ferguson flung over to the window.
“Thank you. Allow me to say that while you are all at variance, action is impossible.” He picked up his hat.
“Roxhythe hits the very root of the matter,” said Monmouth. “You are all under my displeasure.”
“How are we to be assured of Lord Roxhythe his loyalty?” sneered Sydney.
“Any insult to Roxhythe I take to myself!” flashed Monmouth. “Mort de ma vie! To what are we coming? You may be silent, Mr. Sydney!”
“What advice has Roxhythe ever given?” answered Sydney, waxing hotter. “What has he done to help us?”
“Lord Roxhythe has given me sager counsel than any of you!”
“I will give you one piece of advice, Sydney,” said my lord. “It is that you have a care to that unruly tongue of yours. It is like to lead you to disaster.”
“Do you threaten me, my lord?”
“I have never been known to do such a thing,” smiled my lord.
Mr. Sydney said nothing further. Roxhythe turned to Monmouth.
“Your Grace, I do counsel you to await Lord Russell his return. Be sure of your supporters; do nothing rashly. When the time comes, strike firm and true; above all, strike home. But do not endanger success by precipitous action. Permit me to take my leave.”
Monmouth smiled graciously.
“You speak with great sense, my lord. I am entirely of your mind.”
Roxhythe bowed and walked out.
“I applaud Roxhythe,” said Grey. “He at least has a brain.”
Late that evening, Colonel Rumsey presented himself at Bevan House. He was taken to Roxhythe’s private room.
My lord waved him to a chair.
“Sit down, sir. Did they continue to quarrel this morning?”
Rumsey chose the most uncomfortable chair in the room, and sat gingerly on the edge.
“They did, my lord. They fell to arguing over your loyalty. Grey upheld you; Armstrong of course deems you true. But Sydney and Ferguson mistrust you.”
“It matters not in the least. I have learnt enough to hang every man amongst them.”
Rumsey looked at him uneasily.
“My lord, I do not like the part I have to play.”
“No?” said Roxhythe. “I am sorry.”
Rumsey twisted his fingers.
“My lord, expose the plot yourself! Do not ask me to do so!”
“I do not ask,” said his lordship sweetly.
“You have me in a vice!” Rumsey flung out his hands.
“Yes,” agreed Roxhythe.
“If I refuse to betray these men, you will do it and betray me with them. My lord, have a little pity!”
The scorn in Roxhythe’s eyes made Rumsey wince. The fine lips curled.
“I have no mercy for those who plot against His Majesty’s person,” said my lord. His voice was like ice; but it was ice that concealed a fire. “If I followed mine inclination I would have you strung up—ay, and quartered. But as a price for your obedience I give you your life, such as it is.”
Rumsey was white to the lips. Roxhythe fascinated him as a cat fascinates a mouse. He could not look away from that disdainful face.
“My lord,” he stammered. “Have pity! To turn informer! I—” He broke off hopelessly. Roxhythe was smiling. “I am afraid!” he cried desperately.
“So I perceive. If you refuse to do my bidding you will have good cause to be afraid.”
“My lord, my lord, why do you want me to do it? Why do you not do it yourself?”
“It is not my will. If you disclose my hand in the matter you will know what to expect.”
Rumsey passed his tongue between his dry lips.
“And if I do not? If I obey?”
“Have I not said? I give you your life.”
“How do I know that you will not hurl me to destruction when my work is done?”
“It were not worth my while,” answered Roxhythe pleasantly.
“And Keyling? Is he in your power too?” asked Rumsey.
“Certainly.”
“You—you—devil!” said Rumsey, almost hysterically.
“I should advise you to be more civil,” said Roxhythe. “I am not the man to be rude to.”
Rumsey bit his lip. Suddenly he looked up.
“My lord, have you not thought that I might implicate you? You have been in this plot—” He stopped, stricken by the sight of that slow, pitying smile.
“Do you think His Majesty is not aware of the part I play?” asked Roxhythe.
VI
Monmouth
“All is meet for the sacrifice,” remarked Roxhythe.
Charles looked up, interested.
“Am I to know at last?”
Roxhythe smiled.
“In truth you have been very much in the dark, Sir. You are to know.”
“Then come and tell me! Are you about to deliver me from Russell and Essex?”
“Also Grey, and Sydney, and Hampden. And Ferguson.”
“Good God, Roxhythe, you have done your work well! Are all these people in league against me?”
“There are many more,” said Roxhythe calmly. “Those are the principals.”
Charles looked at him anxiously.
“What of Monmouth, David?”
“He plans a rising all over the country, but he resolutely refused to listen to the idea of your assassination.”
The King started.
“I should be grateful, I suppose! Is there in very truth a plot to murder me?”
“There are several, Sir. All equally wild, but equally dastardly.”
“God’s death! I had no notion ’twas so serious!”
“Nor is it, Sir. But by making it seem so we can ensnare your enemies.”
“Speak plainly, Roxhythe! Let me know all that there is to know.”
“Very well, Sir.” Roxhythe moved to a chair. “Some time ago I came across one Keyling, a salter, and one who was embroiled in a certain quarrel with the Lord Mayor some while back. He goes in fear of his skin on account of it. He was also so unwise as to enter a plot ’gainst your life. He is a very thorough Whig, you see.”
“Wait, David! How in heaven’s name did you come to know him?”
“I have frequented a certain tavern in Aldgate where these gentlemen meet from time to time. I observed them all very closely. The rest I got from Rumsey.”
“Who is Rumsey?”
“We shall come to him, Sir. Well, this Keyling is not too scrupulous, and not too loyal. A little bribery, and voilà! he was my man. He
