'If you will send your friend to Burton's Coffee House in the morning----'
'To Burton's Coffee House.'
Lord Sidney turned away. Mr. Wogan drew aside the curtain of the window and stared out into the night with an unusual discontent. Across the road Mr. Scrope was still lurking in the shadow--a hired spy. Very like, he had once been just such another honest lad, with just the same chivalry, before my lady cast her covetous eyes on him. Downstairs in the little room the Parson was fighting, for the Cause, for his sweetheart, for his liberty, and maybe for his life, with little prospect of a safe issue. It seemed a pity that Lord Sidney Beauclerk should be wasted too.
'My lord,' said Wogan, calling after Lord Sidney. And Lord Sidney came back. Wogan was still holding the curtain aside; he had some vague thought of relating Scrope's history, but his first glance at Lord Sidney's face showed to him it would not avail. Lord Sidney would disbelieve it utterly. Wogan dropped the curtain.
'How old is your lordship?' he asked.
Lord Sidney looked surprised, as well he might, and then blushed for his youth.
'I am twenty,' he said, 'and some months,' with considerable emphasis on the months as though they made a world of difference.
'Ah,' replied Wogan, 'I am of the century's age, twenty-two and some more months. You are astonished, my lord. But when I was fifteen I fought in battles.'
'Was it to tell me this you called me back?'
'No,' said Wogan solemnly, 'but you meet me tomorrow. I am not sure that I could do you better service than by taking care that you meet no one afterwards. It was that I had to tell you,' and he added with a smile, 'but I do not think I shall bring myself to do you that service.'