Des Louvres saw that he must give way.
“Have it as you please,” he remarked. “As I said, I am in your hands.” Then, with a warning glance in St. Maur’s direction, he added: “That concludes the business of the meeting. Those who have undertaken to post up copies of the Assertion had better remain behind to consult as to the most appropriate places.”
The informer was obliged to take the hint.
“Very well, gentlemen,” he said, as he rose to go. “Remember that if this lands you in trouble, I have done my best to save you.”
“That fellow means to betray us,” said Des Louvres, as the door closed behind the Irishman. “He will turn King’s evidence if the police get on our track.”
Egerton Vane turned white. But stealing a look at his brother, he was reassured by the placid expression that stole over Wickham’s face.
In the discussion that followed it was settled that Stuart should put up the manifesto at the most important spot—the gallery of St. James’s Palace, from which the new Sovereign is wont to be proclaimed. The others selected other points about the Metropolis, and Des Louvres undertook to post copies to members of the Guild in the provinces, with instructions to affix them to the church doors. The secretary possessed a typing machine, and each of the volunteers was in possession of his copy as he came away.
Alistair strolled home slowly, to find his wife in a state of some excitement.
“Do you know what is happening?” she asked eagerly, as he came in. “The Queen is dying.”
Alistair stared at her.