Even as he meditates, Oliver enters, a very serious look on his face. Stepping up to Guy’s table he seats himself by him and whispers: “Come with me.”
“Why?” This is a whisper also.
“Orders have been given for nobody to pass out of the gates of Antwerp to-night.”
“The reason?”
“I don’t know, unless they suspect your presence in the town. Come to my lodgings with me.”
“No, I shall remain here,” replies the Englishman firmly.
“Why?”
“For two reasons. First, I won’t put further jeopardy upon you. Second, if orders are given for no one to pass the gates, I expect they will very shortly come to the quick ears of a young lady who is interested in one Major Guido Amati de Medina, an officer of Romero’s foot, absent from his post without leave. Incidentally to-day I mentioned to her that I stopped at the Painted Inn. This is the place where she would send to find me. But don’t stay with me, Oliver. My seizure in your company might bring suspicion on you—sit at another table!”
“I won’t leave you, when perchance I can aid you,” says the generous artist. Then he mutters suddenly: “By heaven, perhaps it has come now!”
And it has, though not as Antony fears, for little Ensign de Busaco, swinging through the door, takes one glance about the room and strides up to the Englishman.