Looking out through the low window, after the meal was over, Smeaton cast his eyes up and down the road before the house, and then, turning to Van Noost, remarked--
"That man is no longer there; and I think I might as well take my departure."
"Oh, he is hanging about somewhere near, depend upon it, my Lord," replied Van Noost. "I beseech you not to hazard yourself in the street till after dark. They will track you home, to a certainty; and then the first thing that greets you to-morrow may be a warrant for the Tower."
Smeaton seemed to entertain no great apprehension of such a result, remarking that with him there was no pretence for so violent a step.
"I would not willingly have them discover my abode, however," he remarked, "for they might hamper my movements. I think I shall return to France at once, Van Noost," he added, thoughtfully.
"Not surely before you have seen Lord Oxford?" said the other, with a look of surprise.
"Perhaps not," answered Smeaton; "but that can be done to-night. The letter I bear will gain me admission at any hour, without raising suspicion in him or any other person as to my real business."
"And even then, my good Lord," observed Van Noost, "if I might humbly be permitted to advise, you would still wait awhile--not in London, not in London, but in some quiet country place, where you would not be known, and yet could receive intelligence of all that passes, and be ready for any occasion, I am but a poor statuary, it is true, better acquainted with the arms of Apollo and the ankles of Venus than with the limbs of policy; but still I think it is better to be on the spot, especially when there is no real danger. At all events, you would be able to judge more of the temper of the people and the chances of success."
"I have judged of the temper of the people already," replied Smeaton, with a significant smile. "I mean of the people of London. I might, indeed, see something more of the country gentlemen, though I much doubt their wit if not their wishes, their discretion rather than their devotion. As to the population of this city, the mob that we saw, shouting 'Long live Oxford!' would in three months shout as gaily at his execution."
"Ay, ay," remarked Van Noost, "the people are always fickle, I know well. The time may come when even leaden statues may be out of fashion." And he sighed deeply at the very thought of such a catastrophe.