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He bethought him now of dark hints that Richard had let fall to Vallancey in the past few days, and of hints less dark with which Vallancey who was a careless fellow at ordinary times had answered. And now this mention of the Duke and of treason to him to what Duke could it refer but Monmouth?
"Is that a decent way to talk to a man who is going out? Never heed him, Dick! Let him wait for his dirty guineas till we return." "Thirty guineas?" hiccoughed Richard. "It was only eight. Anyhow wait'll I've sli' the gullet of's Mr. Wilding." He checked on a thought that suddenly occurred to him. He turned to Vallancey with a ludicrous solemnity. "'Sbud!" he swore.
Vallancey and Blake watching him, and the sudden metamorphosis that was wrought in him, despised him heartily, and yet were glad for the sake of their association with him that things were as they were. "Mr. Westmacott," said Wilding quietly, his eyes steadily set upon Richard's own arrogant gaze, his lips smiling a little, "I am here not to fight, but to apologize."
And so they waited some ten minutes or so, and then walked their horses slowly and carefully forward through the trees towards the road. Wilding was alongside and slightly ahead of Trenchard; Vallancey followed close upon their tails. Suddenly, as Wilding was about to put his mare at the low stone wall, Trenchard leaned forward and caught his bridle. "Ss!" he hissed. "Horses!"
She strove to command her voice that she might recall him; but at that same moment Trenchard, hearing his returning hoofs, thrust out into the road with Vallancey following at his heels. The old player's harsh voice reached her where she stood, and it was querulous with impatience.
Wilding "but we took you for some friend of the Lord-Lieutenant's." "Are they after you?" quoth Vallancey, his face of a sudden very startled. "Like enough," said Trenchard, "if they have found their horses yet." "Forward, then," Vallancey urged them in excitement, and he picked up his reins again. "You shall hear my news as we ride." "Not so," said Trenchard.
Westmacott. "Anthony!" cried Trenchard, and in his amazement forgot to swear. "I propose," added Mr. Wilding, "to relieve Mr. Westmacott of the necessity of fighting." Vallancey in his heart thought this might be pleasant news for his principal. Still, he did not quite see how the end was to be attained, and said so.
Like his more famous cousin, Nick Trenchard was one of the Duke of Monmouth's most active agents; and Westmacott, like Wilding, Vallancey, and one or two others at that board, stood, too, committed to the cause of the Protestant Champion.
Wilding reined in and turned in the saddle. "His voice has a familiar sound," said he. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked down the slope at the pursuer, who came on crouching low upon the withers of his goaded beast. "Wait!" the fellow shouted. "I have news news for you!" "It's Vallancey!" cried Wilding suddenly. Trenchard too had drawn rein and was looking behind him.
Vallancey, who, beyond excitement at the news of which he was the bearer, seemed to have no opinion of his own as to the wisdom or folly of the Duke's sudden arrival, looked from one to the other of these two men whom he had known as the prime secret agents in the West, and waited Trenchard moved his horse a few paces nearer the hedge, whence he "Whither now, Anthony?" he asked suddenly.
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