“Yes, a poor old priest, that found out the villain in his capturing schemes, and had to be seized and brought along, or else made away with.
“I—I don’t—see why,” Charles stammered.
“Will tells me that Marmaduke is to suppose I’m the captive, and that I’m to be dressed accordingly,” Henry said lazily. “Now, if you boys can’t see what I mean, keep your eyes and ears open, and when the time comes, there will be so much the more sport for you.”
The plotters did not see what Henry was driving at; but, thinking it must be an “improvement” that had suggested itself to him, they were content to wait.
“Now, we must all swear that none of us will laugh, no matter how droll things may be,” Will observed.
Henry could never be guilty of such a misdemeanor. He was a boy who could do and say the most absurdly ridiculous things without the slightest smile on his face; and the others had tolerable control over their facial muscles.
“Don’t be too hard on Marmaduke, Henry;” said Charles, still at a loss to conjecture to what use the imaginary priest was to be put, and beginning to fear that some great danger menaced hapless Marmaduke.
“I will be careful,” Henry replied.
“About the letter—let us write it,” Steve cried, impatiently.
“I have the materials to write it in the rough,” said Henry. “To-night I shall polish it, and write it off on French note paper, and to-morrow I shall hand it over to you.”