“Captain Scarthe can show too many scars to trouble himself about such a trifle as that you allude to. But we are wasting time, Sir Marmaduke. I am hungry: so are my troopers; and thirsty. We feel inclined to eat and drink.”
“You are welcome to do both one and the other. You will find an inn three miles farther up the road.”
“Nearer than that,” rejoined Scarthe, with an insulting laugh, “that’s our inn.”
And as he said this, he pointed to the mansion of Sir Marmaduke, standing proud and conspicuous on the crest of the opposite hill.
“Come, sir!” said the knight, losing patience, “speak no longer in enigmas. Declare openly, and at once, what you are driving at!”
“I am only too desirous to oblige you, Sir Marmaduke. Standing in need of refreshments as I do, I can assure you I have no wish to procrastinate this unseemly interview. Cornet Stubbs!” he continued, turning to his subaltern; “if I’m not mistaken, you carry a piece of royal parchment in your pocket. Please draw it forth; and do this worthy gentleman the favour to make him acquainted with its contents.”
The cornet, who had re-encased himself in his suit of steel, inserted his fingers under the breast-piece of his cuirass; and presently produced a folded parchment, upon which a large red seal was conspicuous. Unfolding it, he read aloud:—
“The King to Sir Marmaduke Wade.
“His Majesty hearing by good report, of ye loyalty of Sir Marmaduke Wade, of Bulstrode Park, in ye shire of Buckingham, doth hereby entrust to him ye keep and maintenance of ye Captain Scarthe and his troop of horse till such time as his Majesty may need ye same for ye service of his kingdom; and, furthermore, his Majestie do recommend ye said Captain Scarthe to ye hospitality of Sir Marmaduke as a worthy and gallant officer and gentleman, who has done good service to his country and king.
“Given under ye great seal of his Majestie, at Whitehall Palace, this 15th day of October, Anno Domini, 1640.