THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER
"You want the king's marriage contract," he said presently; "you desire the proof that Charles Stuart was married to Lucy Walters, and thus be able to prove that the boy who is now with the king's mother is the next heir to the English throne?"
I nodded my head in the affirmative, all the time watching the old man's eyes, into which a cunning sinister expression had come.
"It is a great thing, a great thing," he cackled. "Fancy, the Duke of York would give his fingers to get hold of it. And yet only you and I have the secret of it."
"Only you at present," I urged.
"Ah, yes, only I, only I; but I need you, and you shall know. Ha! ha!" and he laughed like a man tickled. "But we must bide our time," he continued presently.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"It is no use removing it from its present hiding-place until the proper time," he said. "Suppose you had it in your hand now. What would you do with it? Would you go to the king, and say, 'Look, here is the marriage contract between you and Lucy Walters'? Such would be the act of a fool. And you are not a fool—no, you are not a fool!"
"But I must know where it is," I cried, "and I must be assured that the thing is not a hoax."
"Ay, that you shall," he replied; "come with me."