“Plans?”
“Yes. I have, as you know, six men here, all well-armed, and to do honour to my wedding a gentleman of His Majesty’s household, a friend of mine, will be here this evening, as soon as it is dusk, with eighteen fighting-men beside. These will come unseen, when I give the signal, and be placed in ambush in the garden. I shall plant two by the open bridge, and, if our friend comes, he and his men will walk into a trap, for the moment they are over, the bridge will be closed, and thus, you see, my dear father-in-law elect, I shall rid myself of an awkward rival, and his Majesty of a band of buccaneers.
“But there will be bloodshed, and on the eve of my child’s wedding.”
“Pish!” cried Sir Mark. “Have no fear of that. Once the rats are in the trap, and they will shriek for mercy, as such ruffians and bullies always do. My dear father-in-law, you shall have the pleasure of seeing the whole band tied two and two, and marched off, when the district will be cleared.”
“And my business ruined,” said the founder.
“Trust me for that, old man,” said Sir Mark, smiling. “You shall make culverins and howitzers for his Majesty’s troops to your heart’s content, so have no fear. Powder shall you manufacture, too, but we will not talk of that. Did his Majesty know that powder was stored upon your place, ay, ever so little, he would never be your friend. But how do you like my plans?”
“Not well,” said the founder, gloomily. “I liked Gil. You rob him of the woman he meant to be his wife. Why take his liberty as well?”
“Master Cobbe, this is wretched drivel,” cried Sir Mark, laying his hand upon his shoulder. “What am I to think of it?”
“What you will,” said the founder, sullenly; “I like not my part at all.”
“And you will betray my plans?” said Sir Mark, angrily.