Smith answered with a little hesitation, "Certainly, my business has to do with that, Sir John." And he was proceeding to explain when the baronet, rubbing his hands in glee, cut him short.
"Ha! I thought so," he cried, beaming with satisfaction. "Faith, it is so with everyone. They are all of a tale. My service, and my respects, and my duty--all to go you know where; and it is 'Make it straight for me. Sir John,' and 'You will tell the King, Sir John?' and 'Answer for me as for yourself, Sir John!' all day long when they can come at me. Why, man, you know something, but you would be surprised what messages I am carrying over. And when people have not spoken they have told me as much by a look; and those the least likely. Men who ten years ago were as black Exclusionists as old Noll himself!"
"I can believe it, Sir John," said Smith with gravity, while I, who knew how the late conspiracy had united the whole country in King William's defence, so that the man who refused to sign the Common's Association to that end went in peril of violence, listened with as much bewilderment as I had felt three minutes before, on hearing how this same man, a fugitive and an outlaw, bound beyond seas, had been employing his time!
However, he was as far from guessing what was in my mind as he was from doubting Smith's sincerity; and encouraged by the latter's assent he continued: "It is parlous strange to me, Mr. Smith, how the drunken Dutch boor stands a day! Strange and passing strange! But it cannot last. It will not last out the year. These executions have opened men's eyes finely! And by Christmas we shall be back."
"A merry Christmas it will be," said Smith. "Heaven grant it. But you have not asked, Sir John, who it is I have with me."
At that and at a sign he made me, I let fall the collar of the cloak I was wearing; which, in obedience to his directions, I had hitherto kept high about my chin. Sir John, his eyes drawn to me, as much by my action as by Smith's words, stared at me a moment before his mouth opened wide in recognition and surprise. Then, "I--I am surely not mistaken!" he cried, advancing a step, while the colour rose in his sallow face. "It is--it certainly is----"
"Sir John," Smith cried in haste, and, he, too, advanced a step and raised a hand in warning, "this is Colonel Talbot! Colonel Talbot, mark you, sir; I am sure you understand me, and the reasons which make it impossible for any but Colonel Talbot to visit you here. He has done me the honour to accompany me. But, perhaps," he continued, checking himself with an air of deference, "it were more fitting I left you now."
"No," I said hurriedly, repeating the lesson I had learned by rote, and in which Smith had not failed to practice me a dozen times that day. "I am here to one end only--to ask Sir John Fenwick to do Colonel Talbot a kindness; to take this ring and convey it with my service and duty--whither he is going."
"Oh, but this is extraordinary!" Sir John cried, lifting his hands and eyes in a kind of ecstasy. "This is a dispensation! A providence! But, my lord," he continued with rapture, "there is one more step you may take, one more effort you may make. Be the restorer, the Monk of this generation! So ripe is the pear that were you to ride through the City to-morrow, and proclaim our rightful sovereign, not a citizen but would bless you, not a soldier but would throw down his pike! The Blues are with us to a man, and enraged besides at Keyes's execution. And the rest of the army--do you dream that they see Dutch colonels promoted and Dutch soldiers overpaid, and do not resent it? I tell you, my lord--your Grace, I should say, for doubtless the King will confirm it."