“Look for yourself: look and listen! Do both well: for the words you hear, may yet win you your sweetheart.”
“How, captain?”
“Don’t question me now,” hurriedly replied the latter, at the same time returning to his attitude of attention.
It was in truth Sir Marmaduke Wade, who was addressing the assembly. But his speech was a very short one: for the worthy knight was no orator; and it was nearly finished by the time Scarthe and the cornet had succeeded in placing themselves in a position to have heard him.
Enough reached the ears of the former to give him all that he required for a fell purpose; which even at that moment had commenced taking shape in his diabolical brain.
In the few words that dropped from the lips of his host, Scarthe could discover sufficient evidence of disloyalty. Indeed, the presence of Sir Marmaduke in that place—coupled with, perhaps, something more than suspicion which the king already entertained towards him—would be proof enough to satisfy the Star Chamber.
“We may go now,” whispered Scarthe, stealing towards the door, and drawing his subaltern gently after him. “Softly, cornet!” continued he, as hand-in-hand they retraced the dark passage. “Those boots of yours creak like a ship in a swell! Fancy you are treading on eggs!”
As he made this facetious remark, they emerged into the open air; and, whispering mutual congratulations, went skulking onward, like a brace of felons making their escape from the confinement of a prison.
“If this fellow,” said Scarthe, “can only succeed in extricating our horses, I think we may flatter ourselves, that we have made a successful job of it. Come on.”
And Scarthe led the way along the wall, towards the front of the dwelling.