Richard looked over his shoulder carelessly at the door.
“We have no eavesdroppers,” he said, and his voice bespoke his contempt of the gravity of this news of which Sir Rowland made so much in anticipation. He was acquainted with Sir Rowland's ways, and the importance of them. “What are you considering?” he inquired.
“To end the rebellion,” answered Blake, his voice cautiously lowered.
Richard laughed outright. “There are several others considering that—notably His Majesty King James, the Duke of Albemarle, and the Earl of Feversham. Yet they don't appear to achieve it.”
“It is in that particular,” said Blake complacently, “that I shall differ from them.” He turned to Ruth, eager to engage her in the conversation, to flatter her by including her in the secret. Knowing the loyalist principles she entertained, he had no reason to fear that his plans could other than meet her approval. “What do you say, Mistress Ruth?” Presuming upon his friendship with her brother, he had taken to calling her by that name in preference to the other which he could not bring himself to give her. “Is it not an object worthy of a gentleman's endeavour?”
“If you can save so many poor people from encompassing their ruin by following that rash young man the Duke of Monmouth, you will indeed be doing a worthy deed.”
Blake rose, and made her a leg. “Madam,” said he, “had aught been wanting to cement my resolve, your words would supply it to me. My plan is simplicity itself. I propose to capture Monmouth and his principal agents, and deliver them over to the King. And that is all.”
“A mere nothing,” croaked Richard.
“Could more be needed?” quoth Blake. “Once the rebel army is deprived of its leaders it will melt and dissolve of itself. Once the Duke is in the hands of his enemies there will be nothing left to fight for. Is it not shrewd?”
“You are telling us the object rather than the plan,” Ruth reminded him. “If the plan is as good as the object...”