Moodie muttered something about a son of Belial, but he wished to use these men, and not offend them. So, turning to the groom, with grim sociability, he asked: "Can you speak the language of the people hereabouts?"
"I can call lustily for meat and drink, and make my wants known at a pinch."
"Can you hire me a messenger at the next place we stop at? You must know," said he, in a confidential tone, "I left an important matter sadly neglected in Elvas. It is my lord's business, and I would be sorry to come to blame in it. Whatever it cost, I must send a letter there without delay, and while I write, you must find man and horse. He shall have two guineas the minute the job is done. Is that enough?"
"Quite enough," the groom answered, gravely, while his companion turned away his head to conceal a grin. "I know something about riding express, and for two guineas I will find you a man to ride to Elvas and back in double quick time."
"You shall have a guinea for yourself, if you prove a man of your word, and send my letter in time."
"If I fail you, may your guinea choke me, for I mean to melt it down into good liquor," said the groom.
"And I'll help him to drink your health in it, Mr. Moodie," said the other man. "For a guinea's worth of liquor might choke a better man than Tom."
With hope renewed, Moodie rode on after his mistress. On coming up with them, he heard L'Isle and Lady Mabel talking Portuguese. To while away an idle hour, she was taking a lesson in that tongue. This annoyed Moodie, who suspected some plot, when they thus kept him in the dark. But he consoled himself with the hope that his important dispatch would yet be in time to prevent mischief, and he once more refreshed himself with his bottle, being now well convinced of its medicinal virtue.
Lady Mabel was in high spirits, talking and laughing, and occasionally looking round at Moodie, enjoying the deception she had put upon him. Her success in bewildering him, now tempted her to quiz L'Isle, and she abruptly said: "It must have been a violent fit of patriotism and martial ardor that made you abandon the thought of taking orders, and quit Oxford for the camp."
"I never had any thought of taking orders," answered L'Isle, surprised and annoyed, he knew not exactly why. "I only lived with those who had."