"True, Your Grace; very true," purred Sir Edward. "It was not so I meant to toast him," cried Richard. Albemarle made an impatient gesture, and took up a sheet of paper. "How, then," he asked, "comes this letter--this letter which makes plain the treason upon which the Duke of Monmouth is embarked, just as it makes plain your partic.i.p.ation in it--how comes this letter to be found in your possession?" And he waved the letter in the air.

Richard went the colour of ashes. He faltered a moment, then took refuge in the truth, for all that he knew beforehand that the truth was bound to ring more false than any lie he could invent.

"That letter was not addressed to me," he stammered.

Albemarle read the subscription, "To my good friend W., at Bridgwater."

He looked up, a heavy sneer thrusting his heavy lip still further out.

"What do you say to that? Does not 'W' stand for Westmacott?"

"It does not."

"Of course not," said Albemarle with heavy sarcasm. "It stands for Wilkins, or Williams, or... or... What-not."

"Indeed, I can bear witness that it does not," exclaimed Sir Rowland.

"Be silent, sir, I tell you!" bawled the Duke at him again. "You shall bear witness soon enough, I promise you. To whom, then," he resumed, turning again to Richard, "do you say that this letter was addressed?"

"To Mr. Wilding--Mr. Anthony Wilding," Richard answered.

"I would have Your Grace to observe," put in Trench ard quietly, "that Mr. Wilding, properly speaking, does not reside in Bridgwater."

"Tush!" cried Albemarle; "the rogue but mentions the first name with a 'W' that occurs to him. He's not even an ingenious liar. And how, sir,"

he asked Richard, "does it come to be in your possession, having been addressed, as you say, to Mr. Wilding?"

"Aye, sir," said Sir Edward, blinking his weak eyes. "Tell us that."

Richard hesitated again, and looked at Blake. Blake, who by now had come to realize that his friend's affairs were not mended by his interruptions, moodily shrugged his shoulders, scowling.

"Come, sir," said Colonel Luttrell, engagingly, "answer the question."

"Aye," roared Albemarle; "let your invention have free rein."

Again poor Richard sought refuge in the truth. "We--Sir Rowland here and I--had reason to suspect that he was awaiting such a letter."

"Tell us your reasons, sir, if we are to credit you," said the Duke, and it was plain he mocked the prisoner. It was, moreover, a request that staggered Richard. Still, he sought to find a reason that should sound plausible.

"We inferred it from certain remarks that Mr. Wilding let fall in our presence."

"Tell us the remarks, sir," the Duke insisted.

"Indeed, I do not call his precise words to mind, Your Grace. But they were such that we suspicioned him."

"And you would have me believe that hearing words which awoke in you such grave suspicions, you kept your suspicions and straightway forgot the words. You're but an indifferent liar."

Trenchard, who was standing by the long table, leaned forward now.

"It might be well, an it please Your Grace," said he, "to waive the point, and let us come to those matters which are of greater moment. Let him tell Your Grace how he came by the letter."

"Aye," said Albemarle. "We do but waste time. Tell us, then, how came the letter into your hands?"

"With Sir Rowland, here, I robbed the courier as he was riding from Taunton to Bridgwater."

Albemarle laughed, and Sir Edward smiled. "You robbed him, eh?" said His Grace. "Very well. But how did it happen that you knew he had the letter upon him, or was it that you were playing the hightobymen, and that in robbing him you hoped to find other matters?"

"Not so, sir," answered Richard. "I sought but the letter."

"And how knew you that he carried it? Did you learn that, too, from Mr.

Wilding's indiscretion?"

"Your Grace has said it."

"'Slife! What an impudent rogue have we here!" cried the angry Duke, who conceived that Richard was purposely dealing in effrontery. "Mr.

Trenchard, I do think we are wasting time. Be so good as to confound them both with the truth of this matter."

"That letter," said Trenchard, "was delivered to them at the Hare and Hounds, here at Taunton, by a gentleman who put up at the inn, and was there joined by Mr. Westmacott and Sir Rowland Blake. They opened the conversation with certain cant phrases very clearly intended as pa.s.swords. Thus: the prisoners said to the messenger, as they seated themselves at the table he occupied, 'You have the air, sir, of being from overseas,' to which the courier answered, 'Indeed, yes. I am from Holland. 'From the land of Orange,' says one of the prisoners. 'Aye, and other things,' replies the messenger. 'There is a fair wind blowing,' he adds; to which one of the prisoners, I believe it was Sir Rowland, makes answer, 'Mayit prosper the Protestant Duke and blow Popery to h.e.l.l.'

Thereupon the landlord caught some mention of a letter, but these plotters, perceiving that they were perhaps being overheard, sent him away to fetch them wine. A half-hour later the messenger took his leave, and the prisoners followed a very few minutes afterwards."

Albemarle turned to the prisoners. "You have heard Mr. Trenchard's story. How do you say--is it true or untrue?"

"You will waste breath in denying it," Trenchard took it again upon himself to admonish them. "For I have with me the landlord of the Hare and Hounds, who will corroborate, upon oath, what I have said."

"We do not deny it," put in Blake. "But we submit that the matter is susceptible to explanation."

"You can keep your explanations till your trial, then," snapped Albemarle. "I have heard more than enough to commit the pair of you to gaol."

"But, Your Grace," cried Sir Rowland, so fiercely that one of the tything-men set a restraining hand upon his shoulder, "I am ready to swear that what I did, and what my friend Mr. Westmacott did, was done in the interests of His Majesty. We were working to discover this plot."

"Which, no doubt," put in Trenchard slyly, "is the reason why, having got the letter, your friend Mr. Westmacott locked it in a desk, and you kept silence on the matter."

"You see," exclaimed Albemarle, "how your lies do but serve further to bind you in the toils. It is ever thus with traitors."

"I do think you are a d.a.m.ned traitor, Trenchard," began Blake; "a foul..."

But what more he would have said was checked by Albemarle, who thundered forth an order for their removal, and then, scarce were the words uttered than the door at the far end of the hall was opened, and through it came a sound of women's voices. Richard started, for one was the voice of Ruth.

An usher advanced. "May it please Your Grace, there are two ladies here beg that you will hear their evidence in the matter of Mr. Westmacott and Sir Rowland Blake."

Albemarle considered a moment. Trenchard stood very thoughtful.

"Indeed," said the Duke, at last, "I have heard as much as I need hear,"

and Sir Phelips nodded in token of concurrence.

Not so, however, Colonel Luttrell. "Still," said he, "in the interests of His Majesty, perhaps, we should be doing well to receive them."

Albemarle blew out his cheeks like a man wearied, and stared an instant at Luttrell. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

"Admit them, then," he commanded almost peevishly, and Ruth and Diana were ushered into the hall. Both were pale, but whilst Diana was fluttered with excitement, Ruth was calm and cool, and it was she who spoke in answer to the Duke's invitation. The burden of her speech was a clear, succinct recitation--in which she spared neither Wilding nor herself--of how the letter came to have remained in her hands and silence to have been preserved regarding it. Albemarle heard her very patiently.