did it with a curious suddenness. He took a knife from the table, and hacked off the lowest button from his
coat. This he pushed across the board to his father.
"To turn to other matters," said he; "there is the letter you were expecting from abroad."
"Eh? What?" Lord Ostermore took up the button. It was of silk, interwoven with gold thread. He turned it over in his fingers, looking at it with a heavy eye, and then at his guest. "Eh? Letter?"
he muttered, puzzled.
"If your lordship will cut that open, you will see what his majesty has to propose." He mentioned the king in a voice charged with suggestion, so that no doubt could linger on the score of the
king he meant.
"Gad!" cried his lordship. "Gad! 'Twas thus ye bubbled Mr. Green? Shrewd, on my soul. And you are the messenger, then?"
"I am the messenger," answered Mr. Caryll coldly.
"And why did you not say so before?"
For the fraction of a second Mr. Caryll hesitated. Then: "Because I did not judge that the time was come," said he.
CHAPTER VIII
TEMPTATION
HIS lordship ripped away the silk covering of the button with a penknife, and disembowelled it of a small packet, which consisted of a sheet of fine and very closely folded and
tightly compressed paper. This he spread, cast an eye over, and then looked up at his companion, who was watching him with simulated indolence.
His lordship had paled a little, and there was about the lines of his mouth a look of preternatural gravity. He looked furtively towards the door, his heavy eyebrows lowering.
"I think," he said, "that we shall be more snug in the library. Will you bear me company, Mr. Caryll?"
Mr. Caryll rose instantly. The earl folded the letter, and turned to go. His companion paused to pick up the fragments of the button and slip them into his pocket. He performed the office with a
smile on his lips that was half pity, half contempt. It did not seem to him that there would be the least need to betray Lord Ostermore once his lordship was wedded to the Stuart faction. He would
not fail to betray himself through some act of thoughtless stupidity such as this.
In the library—the door, and that of the ante-room beyond it, carefully closed—his lordship unlocked a sécretaire of walnut, very handsomely inlaid, and, drawing up a
chair, he sat down to the perusal of the king's letter. When he had read it through, he remained lost in thought a while. At length he looked up and across towards Mr. Caryll, who was standing by
one of the windows.
"You are no doubt a confidential agent, sir," said he. "And you will be fully aware of the contents of this letter that you have brought me."
"Fully, my lord," answered Mr. Caryll, "and I venture to hope that his majesty's promises will overcome any hesitation that you may feel."
"His majesty's promises?" said my lord thoughtfully. "His majesty may never have a chance of fulfilling them."
"Very true, sir. But who gambles must set a stake upon the board. Your lordship has been something of a gamester already, and—or so I gather—with little profit. Here is a chance to
play another game that may mend the evil fortunes of the last."
The earl scanned him in surprise. "You are excellent well informed," said he, between surprise and irony.
"My trade demands it. Knowledge is my buckler."
His lordship nodded slowly, and fell very thoughtful, the letter before him, his eyes wandering ever and anon to con again some portion of it. "It is a game in which I stake my head," he
muttered presently.
"Has your lordship anything else to stake?" inquired Mr. Caryll.
The earl looked at him again with a gloomy eye, and sighed, but said nothing. Mr. Caryll resumed. "It is for your lordship to declare," he said quite coolly, "whether his majesty has covered
your stake. If you think not, it is even possible that he may be induced to improve his offer. Though if you think not, for my own part I consider that you set too high a value on that same head of
yours."
Touched
coat. This he pushed across the board to his father.
"To turn to other matters," said he; "there is the letter you were expecting from abroad."
"Eh? What?" Lord Ostermore took up the button. It was of silk, interwoven with gold thread. He turned it over in his fingers, looking at it with a heavy eye, and then at his guest. "Eh? Letter?"
he muttered, puzzled.
"If your lordship will cut that open, you will see what his majesty has to propose." He mentioned the king in a voice charged with suggestion, so that no doubt could linger on the score of the
king he meant.
"Gad!" cried his lordship. "Gad! 'Twas thus ye bubbled Mr. Green? Shrewd, on my soul. And you are the messenger, then?"
"I am the messenger," answered Mr. Caryll coldly.
"And why did you not say so before?"
For the fraction of a second Mr. Caryll hesitated. Then: "Because I did not judge that the time was come," said he.
CHAPTER VIII
TEMPTATION
HIS lordship ripped away the silk covering of the button with a penknife, and disembowelled it of a small packet, which consisted of a sheet of fine and very closely folded and
tightly compressed paper. This he spread, cast an eye over, and then looked up at his companion, who was watching him with simulated indolence.
His lordship had paled a little, and there was about the lines of his mouth a look of preternatural gravity. He looked furtively towards the door, his heavy eyebrows lowering.
"I think," he said, "that we shall be more snug in the library. Will you bear me company, Mr. Caryll?"
Mr. Caryll rose instantly. The earl folded the letter, and turned to go. His companion paused to pick up the fragments of the button and slip them into his pocket. He performed the office with a
smile on his lips that was half pity, half contempt. It did not seem to him that there would be the least need to betray Lord Ostermore once his lordship was wedded to the Stuart faction. He would
not fail to betray himself through some act of thoughtless stupidity such as this.
In the library—the door, and that of the ante-room beyond it, carefully closed—his lordship unlocked a sécretaire of walnut, very handsomely inlaid, and, drawing up a
chair, he sat down to the perusal of the king's letter. When he had read it through, he remained lost in thought a while. At length he looked up and across towards Mr. Caryll, who was standing by
one of the windows.
"You are no doubt a confidential agent, sir," said he. "And you will be fully aware of the contents of this letter that you have brought me."
"Fully, my lord," answered Mr. Caryll, "and I venture to hope that his majesty's promises will overcome any hesitation that you may feel."
"His majesty's promises?" said my lord thoughtfully. "His majesty may never have a chance of fulfilling them."
"Very true, sir. But who gambles must set a stake upon the board. Your lordship has been something of a gamester already, and—or so I gather—with little profit. Here is a chance to
play another game that may mend the evil fortunes of the last."
The earl scanned him in surprise. "You are excellent well informed," said he, between surprise and irony.
"My trade demands it. Knowledge is my buckler."
His lordship nodded slowly, and fell very thoughtful, the letter before him, his eyes wandering ever and anon to con again some portion of it. "It is a game in which I stake my head," he
muttered presently.
"Has your lordship anything else to stake?" inquired Mr. Caryll.
The earl looked at him again with a gloomy eye, and sighed, but said nothing. Mr. Caryll resumed. "It is for your lordship to declare," he said quite coolly, "whether his majesty has covered
your stake. If you think not, it is even possible that he may be induced to improve his offer. Though if you think not, for my own part I consider that you set too high a value on that same head of
yours."
Touched
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