“Scarcely, with the Earl of Stamford for General.”
The Earl was too far occupied to notice this compliment.
“’Twill be swift and secret,” he said, “as Death himself—and as sure. Let be the fact that Hopton is all at sixes and sevens since the Marquis shipp’d for Wales: and at daggers drawn with Mohun.”
Said the Colonel slowly—“Aye, the notion is good enough. Were I not in this corner, I would not think twice. Listen now: only this morning they forc’d me to order a young man’s hanging, who might if kept alive be forc’d in time to give us news of value. I dar’d not refuse.”
“He that you caught with the King’s letter?”
“Aye—a trumpery missive, dealing with naught but summoning of the sheriff’s posse and the like. There is more behind, could we but wait to get at it.”
“The gallows may loosen his tongue. And how of the girl that was taken too?”
“I have her in safe keeping. This very evening I shall visit her, and make another trial to get some speech. Which puts me in mind—”
The Colonel tinkled a small hand bell that lay on the table.
The pause that followed was broken by the Earl.