“Oh, very well, Traquair, have it your own way. I dare say he will do as well as another,” replied Henderson with the air of one making a great concession.
“Then it’s settled!” proclaimed the Earl with a sigh of relief.
But it was not.
“You will pardon me, Traquair,” began Armstrong, “for you know I would be glad to forward anything you had a hand in, short of slipping my neck into a noose; but at that point I draw back. I’ll not set foot on English soil now, King or no King. Henderson may go and be damned to him, for the useless, brainless clacker he is. If Cromwell hangs him, his loss will be Scotland’s gain. Man, Traquair, I wonder at you! The lot of you remind me of a covey of partridges holding conference in a fox’s den.”
“I’m not going to defend the covey of partridges, Will; but, after all’s said and done, the danger’s not so much greater than it was before.”
“Do you think I’m fool enough to set face south when there’s a spy galloping ahead of me with full particulars of every item in my wallet? Not me! It was bad enough before, as you say; now it’s impossible. That is, it is impossible for me, for the flying man knows all about me. No; the proper thing to do is to meet at your castle, or some other safe place, and choose a man whose name and description are not in the wind ahead of him.”
“But I’ve known you to clench with quite as dangerous a task before.”
“It’s not the danger, Traquair, as much as the folly, that holds me back. I’ve been in many a foolish scramble before now, as you have hinted; but I learn wisdom with age, and thus differ from our friend Solomon.”
“Will nothing change your decision?”
“Nothing; nothing in the world; not anything even you can say, my lord. I advise you to take a lad of Henderson’s choosing. Any trampling ass may break an egg, but, once broken, the wisest man in the kingdom cannot place it together again. To-night’s egg is smashed, Traquair.”