This man was Cromwell.
Cromwell had two or three of these retreats in London, unknown except to the most intimate of his friends. Mordaunt was among these.
“It is you, Mordaunt,” he said. “You are late.”
“General, I wished to see the ceremony to the end, which delayed me.”
“Ah! I scarcely thought you were so curious as that.”
“I am always curious to see the downfall of your honor’s enemies, and he was not among the least of them. But you, general, were you not at Whitehall?”
“No,” said Cromwell.
There was a moment’s silence.
“Have you had any account of it?”
“None. I have been here since the morning. I only know that there was a conspiracy to rescue the king.”