"He is a man to be dreaded," the Duchess continued, her eyes resting on her baby, which lay asleep on my bundle of rugs--and I guessed what fear it was had tamed her pride to flight. "His power in England is absolute. We learned that it was his purpose to arrest me, and determined to leave England. But our very household was full of spies, and though we chose a time when Clarence, our steward, whom we had long suspected of being Gardiner's chief tool, was away, Philip, his deputy, gained a clew to our design, and watched us. We gave him the slip with difficulty, leaving our luggage, but he dogged and overtook us, and the rest you know."
I bowed. As I gazed at her, my admiration, I know, shone in my eyes. She looked, as she stood on the deck, an exile and fugitive, so gay, so bright, so indomitable, that in herself she was at once a warranty and an omen of better times. The breeze had heightened her color and loosened here and there a tress of her auburn hair. No wonder Master Bertie looked proudly on his Duchess.
Suddenly a thing I had clean forgotten flashed into my mind, and I thrust my hand into my pocket. The action was so abrupt that it attracted their attention, and when I pulled out a packet--two packets--there were three pairs of eyes upon me. The seal dangled from one missive. "What have you there?" the Duchess asked briskly, for she was a woman, and curious. "Do you carry the deeds of your property about with you?"
"No," I said, not unwilling to make a small sensation. "This touches your Grace."
"Hush!" she cried, raising one imperious finger. "Transgressing already? From this time forth I am Mistress Bertram, remember. But come," she went on, eying the packet with the seal inquisitively, "how does it touch me?"
I put it silently into her hands, and she opened it and read a few lines, her husband peeping over her shoulder. As she read her brow darkened, her eyes grew hard. Master Bertie's face changed with hers, and they both peeped suddenly at me over the edge of the parchment, suspicion and hostility in their glances. "How came you by this, young sir?" he said slowly, after a long pause. "Have we escaped Peter to fall into the hands of Paul?"
"No, no!" I cried hurriedly. I saw that I had made a greater sensation than I had bargained for. I hastened to tell them how I had met with Gardiner's servant at Stony Stratford, and how I had become possessed of his credentials. They laughed of course--indeed they laughed so loudly that the placid Dutchmen, standing aft with their hands in their breeches-pockets, stared open-mouthed at us, and the kindred cattle on the bank looked mildly up from the knee-deep grass.
"And what was the other packet?" the Duchess asked presently. "Is that it in your hand?"
"Yes," I answered, holding it up with some reluctance. "It seems to be a letter addressed to Mistress Clarence."
"Clarence!" she cried. "Clarence!" arresting the hand she was extending. "What! Here is our friend again then. What is in it? You have opened it?"