“I mentioned pique and spite, Mr. Montagu, and you did not take my meaning. Believe me, not against you, but against that oaf Cumberland,” he said.
“And what may your presence here have to do with your pique against the Duke? I confess that the connection is not plain to me,” I said in careless fashion.
“After you left to-day, Mr. Montagu, I humbled myself to ask a favour of the Dutchman—the first I ever asked, and I have done him many. He refused it and turned his back on me.”
“The favour was——?”
“That you might be taken to London for trial and executed there.”
I looked up as if surprised. “And why this interest on my behalf, Sir Robert?”
He shrugged. “I do not know—a fancy—a whim. George Selwyn would never forgive me if I let you be hanged and he not there to see.”
“Had you succeeded Selwyn would have had you to thank for a pleasant diversion, but I think you remarked that the Dutchman was obstinate. ’Tis a pity—for Selwyn’s sake.”
“Besides, I had another reason. You and I had set ourselves to play out a certain game in which I took an interest. Now I do not allow any blundering foreigners to interfere with my amusements.”
“I suppose you mean you do not like the foreigner to anticipate you.”