"I think not," said Sir George Barkley; and unwittingly he paid the person he spoke of the highest compliment in his power, saying, "I rather fancy the same sort of humour that prevents him from going on in the business with us will keep him from betraying what he knows. But we shall soon see that; and now having said all we have to say, you had better go down, Fenwick, and see if he be come or not."
During the time that this conversation had been going on, there had been various sounds of different descriptions in the house; and when Sir John Fenwick rose and opened the door to seek the person last spoken of, he was met face to face by Monsieur Plessis, and a maid-servant, carrying an immense bowl of punch, at that time the favourite beverage of a great part of the English nation.
"Was that the Colonel?" demanded Fenwick, as soon as he beheld
Plessis.
"Yes," replied the Frenchman; "but he is busy about his horses and things, and said he would be up immediately."
"Has he got anybody with him?" demanded Sir John Fenwick in a low voice, for Plessis had left the door partly open behind him.
"Only two," rejoined the other.
"Put down the punch, Plessis," said Sir George Barkley—"run down and see if you cannot stop the others from coming up with him."
Before Plessis could do as he was bid, however, the door was flung farther open, and our old acquaintance Green entered the room alone. He was dressed as upon the first occasion of his meeting with Wilton Brown, except that he had a sort of cloak cast over his other garments, and a much heavier sword by his side. Plessis, who did not seem very much to like the aspect of affairs, made his exit with all speed, and closed the door; and Green, with a firm step and a somewhat frowning brow, advanced to the table, saying, "I give you good evening, gentlemen."
Sir John Fenwick, who was nearest to him, held out his hand as to an old friend; but Green thrust his hands behind his back, and made him a low bow, saying, "I must do nothing, Sir John, that may make you believe me your comrade when I am not."
"Nay, nay, Colonel," said Sir John Fenwick, still holding out his hand to him, "at least as your friend of twenty years' standing."