"We!" he exclaimed with a start.
"Aren't you sick of the same disease? Isn't the same medicine best for you? Come, shall we both go to-morrow to Hatchstead—a pretty village, Mr Darrell—and let the great folk go alone to Dover?"
"You know I cannot. I serve my Lord Arlington."
"And I the Duke of Monmouth."
"But my Lord is the King's servant."
"And his Grace the King's son."
"Oh, if you're obstinate——" he began, frowning.
"As fate, as prophecy, as witch, as Ranter, as devil, or as yourself!" I said, laughing and throwing myself into a chair as he rose and moved towards the door.
"No good will come of it to you," he said, passing me on his way.
"What loyal servant looks to make a profit of his service?" I asked, smiling.