“It's no rumour,” Vallancey assured them. “I was at White Lackington three hours ago when the news came to George Speke, and I was riding to carry it to you, going by way of Taunton that I might drop word of it for our friends at the Red Lion.”
Trenchard needed no further convincing; he looked accordingly dismayed. But Wilding found it still almost impossible—in spite of what already he had learnt—to credit this amazing news. It was hard to believe the Duke of Monmouth mad enough to spoil all by this sudden and unheralded precipitation.
“You heard the news at White Lackington?” said he slowly. “Who carried it thither?”
“There were two messengers,” answered Vallancey, with restrained impatience, “and they were Heywood Dare—who has been appointed paymaster to the Duke's forces—and Mr. Chamberlain.”
Mr. Wilding was observed for once to change colour. He gripped Vallancey by the wrist. “You saw them?” he demanded, and his voice had a husky, unusual sound. “You saw them?”
“With these two eyes,” answered Vallancey, “and I spoke with them.”
It was true, then! There was no room for further doubt.
Wilding looked at Trenchard, who shrugged his shoulders and made a wry face. “I never thought but that we were working in the service of a hairbrain,” said he contemptuously.
Vallancey proceeded to details. “Dare and Chamberlain,” he informed them, “came off the Duke's own frigate at daybreak to-day. They were put ashore at Seatown, and they rode straight to Mr. Speke's with the news, returning afterwards to Lyme.”
“What men has the Duke with him, did you learn?” asked Wilding.