“My project has this advantage,” continued Ballengeich with nonchalant impartiality, “that if it does not succeed, you can then fall back upon abduction. Nothing in this proposal interferes with the ultimate carrying out of your first plan.”
“It is putting our heads in the lion’s mouth,” objected the leader, but in the discussion that followed he was outvoted. Then came the choosing of the delegates, on which rock the enterprise was nearly wrecked, for there seemed to be no anxiety on the part of any four present to form the committee of expostulation which was to meet the monarch. At last it was decided that all should go, if Ballengeich could produce a written safe-conduct signed by the king, which would include eleven persons.
Within three days this document was placed in the hands of the cobbler by Ballengeich, who told him that it had been signed that morning. And he added that the king had expressed himself as well pleased to receive a deputation of his loyal subjects.
The cobbler handled the passport gingerly, as if he were not altogether assured of its potency to protect him.
“The conference is for Wednesday at midday,” said Ballengeich. “Assemble some minutes before that hour in the courtyard of the castle, and you will be conducted to the Presence.”
“Wednesday!” echoed the cobbler, his face turning pale. “Why Wednesday, the day of our weekly meetings? Did you suggest it?”
“It was the king’s suggestion, of course,” replied Ballengeich. “It is merely a coincidence, and is, I think, a good omen.”
“I wish I were sure of it,” moaned the cobbler.
Before the bell rang twelve the conspirators were gathered together in the courtyard of Castle Stirling; huddled would perhaps be the more accurate word, for they were eleven very frightened men. More than one cast longing looks towards the gate by which they had come in, but some places are easier to enter than to leave, and the portal was well guarded by stalwart soldiers.