Lethington, completely fooled, ran open-mouthed to Bothwell. ‘Here is a discomfiture, my lord! I am dumbfounded. Just when we were sure of him.’
‘Maybe you were too sure. There will be a vent-hole in your body politic.’
‘My lord, I can answer for the entirety of it. Tush, my credit is gone! I am vexed to death.’
‘I see that it puts you out. But courage, man! you will find a way yet.’
‘If I find one now, after this rebuff, it will be owing to your lordship’s good opinion,’ said the guileless Lethington: ‘a sharp spur to me, I do assure you.’
Bothwell took him by the arm. ‘Do you feel so sure,’ he asked him, ‘that our man hath not had a fright?’
‘What fright? Not possible—or I am not up with your lordship.’
Bothwell half-closed his eyes. ‘How do you suppose he would look upon the return of Morton and the Douglases?’
Lethington started, then stared at the floor. ‘Ay,’ he said—‘ay! I had not given that a thought. Man, Lord Bothwell,’ he whispered, ‘yon’s his death-warrant, and he knows it.’
Lord Bothwell clacked his tongue.