He turned to Mr. Lacel.
"Peter," he said, and his voice was now anxious and suave, the voice of a man of affairs, and with something definite to say, "Peter, I must claim your hospitality for the night for myself and for my Spanish friend. Also, I fear, for my men."
Mr. Lacel bowed. "Sir John," he said, "my poor house is very gladly at your disposal, and you may command me in all ways."
"I thank you," Sir John answered, "I thank you very much. You are doing me a service, and perhaps other people a service which——" He broke off shortly, and turned once more to Commendone. "Mr. Commendone," he said, "it is requisite that you will at once to horse with your own servant and one of my men, and ride to London—Excuse me, Peter, but I have a privy word to say to the Esquire."
He drew Johnnie aside. "You must ride post-haste to the Queen," he said, "and tell her that His Majesty is very weary or eke unwell. He will lie the night here and come to London with me in the morning, and by the Mass, Mr. Commendone, I don't envy you your commission!"
"I will go at once," Johnnie answered, looking at his watch.
"Very good, Mr. Commendone," Sir John answered. "I am not of the Privy Closet, as you know. You are in communion with Her Grace, and have been. But if all we of the guard hear is true, then I am sorry for you. Natheless, you must do it. Tell Her Grace of the burning—oh, tell her anything that commendeth itself to you, but let her not think that His Highness is upon some lover's business. And of Duck Lane not a word, not a single word, as you value your favour!"
"It is very likely, is it not, Sir John," Commendone answered, "that I should say anything of Duck Lane?"
The sneer in his voice was so pronounced that the big bully writhed uneasily.
"Surely," he replied, "you are a very pattern and model of discretion. I know it well enough, Mr. Commendone."