“Nay; that would be hardly fair to you. Besides, you forget that Master Boyle hath it.”
“I like not Master Boyle.”
“Nor do I, overmuch, Wat. He is one of your still, secret men, with the lawyer’s craft and cunning. What should there be between us?”
“I hate his peaked face and his yellow eyes, and the way he hath of watching you and peering like a cat that sees in the dark.”
“You are hard on Master Boyle, Wat. There is too much of the lawyer in him, and he treads soft as a cat. Yet there is a man behind his greed and his cunning. He is better framed for times like these than such an one as I. I could never walk warily.”
“He has your secret and can use it against you.”
“He would do me no more harm than beggar me if he might so enrich himself. My head would be no use to him, little Wat.”
“’Tis a poor warranty for holding a secret,” said I, bitterly.
“I am well-disposed to Master Boyle,” my lord went on. “He is a man of substance, Wat, and a useful friend for one like myself, who can keep nothing. We shall not pluck the jewels from the gold-trees of Guiana without money and ships. I am nearly sucked dry, and the Queen hath lost faith in me.”
Then I knew that my lord was not so contented as he had seemed of late, and that further voyages were afoot. In the joy and excitement of the prospect I forgot to fret about my namelessness. Besides, my lord knew that I was noble; and Master Boyle knew it, and treated me with a consideration which should have won my regard if it were not that I distrusted his dealings with my lord.