"Sir," the prince's cold imperious tone rung like a bell in the silent, sunny room, "I hear you are kin to General Harrison this day condemned to death."
Richard bowed assent.
"You are to be pitied," continued the prince; "but I know not anything in which I can serve you;" and with a slight inclination of his head Rupert turned to his papers.
But he had forgotten the impatient movement with which he had flicked his pen to the other side of the room, and as he paused to search for it Dick caught the opportunity, and stepped over to the table.
"I entreat you, sir, to give me leave to say two words," he urged.
The prince looked up with cold surprise. "Say on, sir," he answered.
"Sir, when you delivered over Bristol to my Lord Fairfax, you said some words to General Harrison that his friends still bear in mind, and I would be so bold as to bring them back to-day to your Highness's memory. You said then that were it ever in your power to repay the satisfaction you had received from him in your day of trouble, you would do it."
For a moment Prince Rupert's amazement kept him absolutely silent; then he burst out—
"How! you must be beside yourself to come to me—me!—Rupert! on such an errand! Because, forsooth, I exchanged civilities with one I held an honourable enemy, you dare to expect my interest on behalf of a regicide! I vow, sir, every man who even witnessed that most abominable and unnatural murder should swing, did it depend on me. Go to those of your own party, who have had the wit to secure their own necks; maybe they may also have the skill to juggle your kinsman out of jail."
Richard could hardly wonder at the tone of contempt, and he almost blessed it, for it aroused an answering anger that dispelled his shy reluctance to speak, and his answer came promptly—