"No offence, no offence, my dear fellow," interposed the captain hastily. "I'm but a plain soldier—just an honest, bluff, outspoken old campaigner; we blades don't pick and choose our words like you fine gentlemen of the courts; though in truth when I was in Russia my manners were as good as the best."
Polignac resumed his seat reluctantly without a word. After a short, strained silence Aglionby went on:
"The first thing, as I was saying, is to get this dog out of the way. Burn him! he follows his master like a shadow. The man removed, the rest is easy. A week from now, and he shall lie his length in six feet of good Dutch soil, or my name isn't Ralph Montacute Aglionby. Leave it to me, Monsieur; there will be necessary expenses; say fifty guilders, a small sum, and at one time——"
"Send to my chambers; you shall have the money. And by the way, here is a packet for Captain Rudge of the Skylark. He sails with this evening's tide. Bid him have the greatest care of it; should he run into danger he must destroy it.—It is arranged, then? I shall hear from you?"
"Within a week, on the word of a gentleman."
"Then for the time, adieu!"
When Polignac had gone, Aglionby looked curiously at the packet entrusted to him. The address ran:
For Mistress Consterdine
to be left at the coffee-house,
by the Cockpitt, Whitehall, London.