"It is now after seven. At nine I expect to be visited by a gentleman whom I have appointed to meet me here. His name is Captain Morris. You will please entertain him at my cost to-night, and do so at your best. On his arrival, if he hath not supped, ask him to do so; if he hath, show him in at once to me. Now I will prepare for my own meal."
Again Boniface bowed low-lower even than before, after he had become acquainted with his visitor's rank and position-and escorted him to a large, comfortable bedroom on the first floor, in which a cheerful fire burnt in the grate. And throwing open two heavy folding-doors, he showed next a bright sitting-room, also with a fire, and well lit.
"This will do very well," said his lordship. "Now send my servant to me with my valise. And let him wait on me at table."
All through the repast he partook of the viscount meditated gloomily and gravely, eating but little of the substantial meal provided by the landlord, drinking sparingly, and addressing no remark to his servant. Then when he had finished, he had his chair drawn up before the fire, a bottle of wine and another of brandy placed on the table, and, bidding the servant withdraw and bring Captain Morris to him when he should arrive, he again fell to meditating and musing, speaking sometimes aloud to himself.
"It is the only way," he muttered, in disconnected sentences, "the only way. And it must be done at one swoop; otherwise it is useless. So long as one of them is free I am fettered. The only way! And-then-when that is accomplished-to deal with you, my lady. Let me see." He began counting on his fingers and tapping the tips as still he pondered, touching first his forefinger, then the second and third, and once or twice nodding his head as though well satisfied with himself.
"As for Fane," he muttered next, "he scarce counts. Yet he, too, must be taken care of. But of that later. Doubtless when I begin with my lady-Vengeance confound her! – he will become revengeful, but before he can do so-well, he will be harmless. So, so. It should work."
The clock struck nine as he spoke, and he compared it with his great tortoiseshell watch, and then sat listening. The inn was very quiet, he doubted if any other travellers were staying in it, especially as the coach from London passed through early in the day, but outside in the street there were signs of life. The rustics bade each other good-night as they passed; a woman's laugh broke the air now and again; sometimes a dog barked. And at last, above these sounds, he heard a horse's hoofs clattering along the street as though ridden fast.
"That," said his lordship, "may be he. 'Tis very possible. For one of his Majesty's servants, he is none too punctual."
As he spoke the horse drew up with still more clatter at the porch below his window, and he heard a clear, firm voice ask if Lord Fordingbridge had that day arrived from London. And two or three moments later his servant knocked at the door, and, entering, said that Captain Morris was come.
"Has he supped?"
"He says he requires nothing, my lord, but desires to see you at once. He rides to Hertford to-night, he bid the landlord say, and has but little time at his disposal."
"So be it. Show him in," and a moment later Captain Morris entered the room.
A man of something more than middle age, this gentleman's features, aquiline and clear cut, presented the appearance of belonging to one in whom great ability as well as shrewdness and common sense were combined. Tall and extremely thin, his undress riding-habit of dark blue embroidered with gold lace set off his figure to extreme advantage, while the light sword he carried by his side, his gold-trimmed three-cornered hat with its black cockade, and his long riding boots all served to give him the appearance of an extremely gentlemanly and elegant man.
"Welcome, sir," said Lord Fordingbridge, advancing to meet him with extended hand, while at the same time he noticed-and took account of-the clear grey eyes, the thin lips, and aquiline nose of his visitor. "Welcome, sir. I am glad you have been able to reach here to-night. To-morrow I must resume my journey. Be seated, I beg."
"The orders which I received from London," replied Captain Morris, in a clear, refined voice that corresponded perfectly with his appearance, "made it imperative that I should call on you to-night. As your lordship may be aware, in this locality I have certain duties to perform which can be entrusted to no one else."
"I am aware of it," Fordingbridge replied. Then he said, "Before we commence our conversation, let me offer you a glass of wine or brandy. The night is raw, and you have doubtless ridden long."
Captain Morris bowed, said he would drink a glass of wine, and, when he had poured it out of the decanter, let it stand by his side untouched for the moment. After which he remarked:
"I understand, my lord, that I am to receive from your lips to-night some information of considerable importance to his Majesty, touching those who have been engaged in plotting against his security. May I ask you to proceed at once with what you have to tell me? I have still some distance to ride to-night, and also other work to do."
"Yes," answered Fordingbridge, "you have been exactly informed. Yet-how to tell-how to begin, I scarcely know. My object is to put in the King's hands-without, of course, letting it be known that the information comes from me-some facts relating to several notorious Jacobites now sheltering in London. Men who are," he continued, speaking rapidly, "inimical to his Majesty's peace and security, hostile to his rule, and, if I mistake not, bent at the present moment in endeavouring in some way to effect a rescue of the Scotch lords now in confinement at the Tower."
A slight smile rose upon his visitor's face as he uttered these last words; then Captain Morris said quietly:
"That is hardly likely to come to pass, I should imagine. The Tower does not disgorge its victims freely, certainly not by force. As for the Scotch lords, I am afraid they will only quit the place for their trials and afterwards for Tower Hill."
"Yet," remarked Lord Fordingbridge, "the attempt may be made. Of the men I speak of, two are desperate, and both fought at Culloden and the battles that took place during the Pretender's march into England. They will stop at nothing if," with a quick glance at the other, "they are not themselves first stopped."
"Give me their names, if you please," said Morris, with military precision, as he produced from his pocket a notebook, "and where they are to be found."
"Their names are Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto-the former a kinsman of the Lord Balmarino. Both have lived in exile in France, serving in the French King's army, one in the Garde du Roi at first, and then in the Regiment of Picardy. The other, Sholto, has served in the Mousquetaires."
"Their names," said Captain Morris, "are not in the list," and he turned over the leaves of his notebook carefully as he spoke. "But for you, my lord, these men might have escaped justice. 'Tis strange nothing was known of them."
"They crossed from France with Charles Edward. Many names of those who accompanied him are probably not known. You may rely on my information. I myself returned but from France some weeks ago. I know them well."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Captain Morris. "Indeed! Your lordship doubtless came to support his Majesty shortly after so many of his enemies crossed over."
"Precisely. But I will be frank. I should tell you I am myself a converted-perverted, some would say-Jacobite. My father, the late lord, died one, I do not espouse his political faith."
Captain Morris bowed gravely; then he said:
"And you know, therefore, these gentlemen-these Scotch rebels."
"I know them very well. Shall I furnish you with a description of their persons?"
"If you please;" and as the captain replied to the question, he-perhaps unwittingly-pushed the untasted glass of wine farther away from him into the middle of the large table, where it remained undrunk.
After the appearance of Elphinston and Sholto had been fully given and noted in the captain's book, he asked:
"And