“Faith, my Lord, I’m earlier than I might have been. I found it hard to part from a dear friend who was loathe to let me out of his sight,” I laughed.
The Scotchman buckled on his sword and disappeared into the next room. When he returned a pair of huge cavalry pistols peeped from under his cloak.
“Going to the wars, my Lord?” I quizzed gaily.
“Perhaps. Will you join me?”
“Maybe yes and maybe no. Is the cause good?”
“The best in the world.”
“And the chances of success?”
“Fortune beckons with both hands.”
“Hm! Has she by any chance a halter in her hands for Kenn Montagu and an axe for Balmerino since he is a peer?”
“Better the sharp edge of an axe than the dull edge of hunger for those we love,” he answered with a touch of bitterness.