Uneasy suspicion came into the sunken eyes of the King as he turned them on his Chamberlain.
“What do you fear, De Courcy?”
“I have been studying the man these three days past. I accepted without question his assurances, and threw him off his guard. Cromwell loves an honest-looking envoy, and from what Armstrong said I am sure he saw Cromwell no farther away than Northampton. He was very ready with his account of his own country people, but he told us nothing about the marvellous luck that brought him safely through a hostile land, which we know to our cost is admirably patrolled. There is young Rudby, gone this month and more to Edinburgh, and yet no word of him. And this stranger expects us to believe he came over the same ground unscathed and unquestioned in less than a week.”
“O God! O God! In whom can I place dependence,” cried the tortured King, burying his head in his hands. Then he raised it and said with a trace of anger in his voice: “If you knew this man to be a traitor, or an emissary of that rebel, why did you bring him into our presence?”
“I could not be sure of him, your Majesty, and there was always a chance that he was loyal and might get through.”
“To raise my hopes like this and then dash them to the ground!”
“Not so, your Majesty, if you will pardon me. Do you place importance on this commission?”
“The utmost importance. I know Traquair, and he will raise all Scotland for me if this commission reach him.”
“Then we will mak siccar, as a famous Scot once said.”
“Ah, De Courcy, that was said when a treacherous murder was intended. How will you make sure that Armstrong is honest?”