“Yes, I did,” said Shakespeare. “He is a man well known about the Court, a certain Sir Robert Grisewood.”
“Yes, Sir Robert Grisewood,” said Gervase. “And it was he, at the instance of my Uncle Simon, who swore away my life.”
The player stopped abruptly in the middle of the inn yard, an exclamation upon his lips.
“That’s undoubtedly the man,” said Gervase, “by all that’s unlucky. Or may be it is not unlucky, since Providence works in ways so dark and strange.”
“Wherein I fully agree,” said the player. “And it may be that even in this Providence is working for us in a mysterious way. But I hope this man did not know you.”
“I think he did not,” said Gervase. “His eye would have dwelt longer if he had. But you he certainly recognized; moreover, he did not seem to approve you.”
Shakespeare smiled.
“He is one of a hundred bullies who ruffle it about the Court. When they are not cringing before their betters, they are generally browbeating those whom they are pleased to consider their inferiors.”
“He is a very dangerous man,” said Gervase, “And if I cross his path, my life will not be worth an hour’s purchase.”
“Well, the tiring-room is not far away,” said the player. “And there, I think, we can find you a disguise that will tax the wit of Sir Robert to penetrate.”