“Was yon the messenger?” said Ormond, singling out from the crowd who stood in the court-yard a tall dark-looking man, muffled in a large cloak, wearing a broad shadowy black beaver hat, with a long sword of the Spanish fashion—the very Colonel, in short, whom Buckingham had despatched in quest of Christian, with the intention of detaining him in the country.
When Buckingham’s eyes had followed the direction of Ormond’s finger, he could not help blushing so deeply as to attract the King’s attention.
“What new frolic is this, George?” he said. “Gentlemen, bring that fellow forward. On my life, a truculent-looking caitiff—Hark ye, friend, who are you? If an honest man, Nature has forgot to label it upon your countenance.—Does none here know him?
‘With every symptom of a knave complete,
If he be honest, he’s a devilish cheat.’”
“He is well known to many, sire,” replied Ormond; “and that he walks in this area with his neck safe, and his limbs unshackled, is an instance, amongst many, that we live under the sway of the most merciful Prince of Europe.”
“Oddsfish! who is the man, my Lord Duke?” said the King. “Your Grace talks mysteries—Buckingham blushes—and the rogue himself is dumb.”
“That honest gentleman, please your Majesty,” replied the Duke of Ormond, “whose modesty makes him mute, though it cannot make him blush, is the notorious Colonel Blood, as he calls himself, whose attempt to possess himself of your Majesty’s royal crown took place at no very distant date, in this very Tower of London.”
“That exploit is not easily forgotten,” said the King; “but that the fellow lives, shows your Grace’s clemency as well as mine.”
“I cannot deny that I was in his hands, sire,” said Ormond, “and had certainly been murdered by him, had he chosen to take my life on the spot, instead of destining me—I thank him for the honour—to be hanged at Tyburn. I had certainly been sped, if he had thought me worth knife or pistol, or anything short of the cord.—Look at him sire! If the rascal dared, he would say at this moment, like Caliban in the play, ‘Ho, ho, I would I had done it!’”
“Why, oddsfish!” answered the King, “he hath a villainous sneer, my lord, which seems to say as much; but, my Lord Duke, we have pardoned him, and so has your Grace.”