“I have discovered it since his death,” continued Rotherby. “I was but in time to wrest it from the hands of that spy of the Pretender's, who was in the act of destroying it when I caught him. My devotion to his majesty made my course clear, sir—and I desired Mr. Green to procure a warrant for this traitor's arrest.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Templeton, regarding him with an eye in which astonishment was blent with admiration, “this is very loyal in you—very loyal under the—ah—peculiar circumstances of the affair. I do not think that his majesty's government, considering to whom this letter was addressed, could have censured you even had you suppressed it. You have conducted yourself, my lord—if I may venture upon a criticism of your lordship's conduct—with a patriotism worthy of the best models of ancient Rome. And I am assured that his majesty's government will not be remiss in signifying appreciation of this very lofty loyalty of yours.”
Lord Rotherby bowed low, in acknowledgment of the compliment. Her ladyship concealed a cynical smile under cover of her fan. Mr. Caryll—standing in the background beside Hortensia's chair—smiled, too, and poor Hortensia, detecting his smile, sought to take comfort in it.
“My son,” interposed the countess, “is, I am sure, gratified to hear you so commend his conduct.”
Mr. Templeton bowed to her with a great politeness. “I should be a stone, ma'am, did I not signify my—ah—appreciation of it.”
“There is a little more to follow, sir,” put in Mr. Caryll, in that quiet manner of his. “I think you will find it blunt the edge of his lordship's lofty loyalty—cause it to savor less like the patriotism of Rome, and more like that of Israel.”
Mr. Templeton turned upon him a face of cold displeasure. He would have spoken, but that whilst he was seeking words of a becoming gravity, Rotherby forestalled him.
“Sir,” he exclaimed, “what I did, I did though my ruin must have followed. I know what this traitor has in mind. He imagines I have a bargain to make. But you must see, sir, that in no sense is it so, for, having already surrendered the facts, it is too late now to attempt to sell them. I am ready to yield up the letters that I have found. No consideration could induce me to do other; and yet, sir, I venture to hope that in return, the government will be pleased to see that I have some claim upon my country's recognition for the signal service I am rendering her—and in rendering which I make a holocaust of my father's honor.”
“Surely, surely, sir,” murmured Mr. Templeton, but his countenance told of a lessening enthusiasm in his lordship's Roman patriotism. “Lord Carteret, I am sure, would never permit so much—ah—devotion to his majesty to go unrewarded.”
“I only ask, sir—and I ask it for the sake of my father's name, which stands in unavoidable danger of being smirched—that no further shame be heaped upon it than that which must result from the horror with which the discovery of this plot will inspire all right-thinking subjects.”