"I have come to tell you news, Sir," I said after a while.
He started as from a Reverie, and said half-absently:
"News? What news, friend? Good, I hope."
"Yes," I replied very quietly, even though I felt that my heart was beating fast within my breast with excitement. "Good news of the Man You hate."
He made no reply for the moment, and even by the dim, uncertain light of the fire I could see the quick change in his face. I cannot explain it exactly, but it seemed as if something Evil had swept over it, changing every noble line into something that was almost repellent.
My heart beat faster still. I was beginning to feel afraid and a queer, choking Sensation gripped me by the throat and silenced the Words which were struggling to come to my lips.
"Well?" queried Mr. Betterton a second or two later, in a calm, dull, unemotional Voice. "What is thy news, friend Honeywood?"
"There is a plot," I replied, still speaking with an effort, "against His Majesty and the Countess of Castlemaine."
"I knew that," he rejoined. "'Tis no news. There is more than one plot, in fact, against the King and the Castlemaine. You surely haven't come out on this wet night," he added with a mirthless laugh, "in order to tell me that!"
After all that I had gone through, after my tussle with my conscience and my fight against myself, I felt nettled by his flippant tone.