“Traitor’s pay,” said Hilary sharply, finishing the sentence.
“Don’t call things by hard names, young man,” said the officer sternly. “And let me tell you that I know for a certainty that your position in Hanoverian George’s service is a very precarious one. Strange things have been told of you.”
“Very likely,” said Hilary coldly.
“I believe your officer has reported upon your conduct.”
“I can’t help that,” said Hilary coldly. “I have always served his majesty faithfully and well.”
“Even to taking pay from the other side?” said the officer with a mocking smile.
“It is a lie,” cried Hilary angrily; “I never tampered with my duty to the king.”
“Till now,” said the officer laughing. “There, there, there, my lad, I’m not going to quarrel with you, and we will not use high-sounding phrases about loyalty, and fealty, and duty, and the like. There, I am glad to welcome you to our side. There are a hundred guineas in that bag. Take them, but spend them sensibly, or you will be suspected. If I were you I would save them, and those that are to come. Here is your despatch, and you will see the address at Dunquerque. Be faithful and vigilant and careful. There, take them and go your way. No one will be a bit the wiser for what you have done, and when you return to port bring your answer here, and give it to anyone you see. One word more: do not trust your lieutenant. I don’t think he means well by you.”
“I know that,” said Hilary scornfully.
“Never mind,” said the officer; “some day, when we are in power, we will find you a brave ship to command for your good services to Charles Edward. But there, time presses; you must get back to your ship. Here!”