'Barnaby?' said Sir Christopher, 'is it thou, scapegrace? Where hast thou——But first tell us what has happened. Briefly, man.'
'In two words, Sir: the Duke of Monmouth landed the day before yesterday at Lyme Regis with my Lord Grey and a company of a hundred—of whom I was one.'
The Duke had landed! Then what Robin expected had come to pass! And my brother Barnaby was with the insurgents! My heart beat fast.
'The Duke of Monmouth hath landed!' Sir Christopher repeated, and sat down again, as one who knows not what may be the meaning of the news.
'Ay, Sir, the Duke hath landed. We left Holland on the 24th of May, and we made the coast at Lyme at daybreak on Thursday the 11th. 'Tis now, I take it, Saturday. The Duke had with him on board ship Lord Grey, Mr. Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, Mr. Heywood Dare of Taunton'——
'I know the man,' said Sir Christopher, 'for an impudent, loud-tongued fellow.'
'Perhaps he was, Sir,' said Barnaby, gravely. 'Perhaps he was, but now'——
'How "was"?'
'He was shot on Thursday evening by Mr. Fletcher for offering him violence with a cane, and is now dead.'
''Tis a bad beginning. Go on, Barnaby.'