"Ay, he with the council's warrant for this dirty work."
"Yonder he stands, I believe, your honour, by the ruins of the mass-monging days," replied the sergeant, pointing to a figure which a passing gleam of the moon revealed emerging from the ruins.
"Mean you that tall spunger in the red Rocquelaure? To judge by his rapier and feather, he is a gentleman, but one that seems to watch us. So, ho, sir! a good even; you are late abroad to-night."
"At your service, Sir," responded the other gruffly behind the cape of his cloak, which, in the fashion of an intriguing gallant of the day, he wore so high up as completely to conceal his face.
"For King or for Covenant, Sir?" asked the lieutenant, who was Richard Douglas, of Finland.
"Tush!" laughed the stranger; "this is an old-fashioned test; you should have asked," he added, in a lower voice, "For James VII., or William of Orange! ha, hah!"
"Hush, my Lord Clermistonlee, by this light."
"Right, by Jove!" exclaimed the other, who was considerably intoxicated.
"Body o' me! it ill beseems one of His Majesty's Privy Councillors to be roving abroad thus like a night hawk."
"I am the best judge of my own actions, Mr. Douglas," replied the lord haughtily; but added in a whisper, "you are bound for the Wrytes-house?"