"Lord Gervase Scoresby?" questioned Grey, less carelessly.
Battiscomb half turned to him, then faced the Duke again as he made answer, "Mr. Wilding there, can tell you more concerning Lord Gervase."
All eyes swept round to Wilding who sat in silence, listening; Monmouth's were laden with inquiry and some anxiety. Wilding shook his head slowly, sadly. "You must not depend upon him," he answered; "Lord Gervase was not yet ripe. A little longer and I think I must have won him for Your Grace."
"Heaven help us!" exclaimed the Duke in petulant vexation. "Is no one coming in?"
Ferguson swung a hand towards the still open window, drawing attention to the sounds without.
"Does Your Grace not hear, that ye can ask?" he cried, almost reproachfully; but they scarce heeded him, for Grey was inquiring if Mr. Strode might be depended upon to join, and that was a matter that claimed the greater attention.
"I think," said Battiscomb, "that he might have been depended upon."
"Might have been?" questioned Fletcher, speaking now for the first time since Battiscomb's arrival.
"Like Sir Francis Rolles, he is in prison," the lawyer explained.
Monmouth leaned forward, and his young face looked Careworn now; he thrust a slender hand under the brown curls upon his brow. "Will you tell us, Mr. Battiscomb, upon what friends you think that we may count?" he said.
Battiscomb pursed his lips a second, pondering. "I think," said he, "that you may count upon Mr. Legge and Mr. Hooper, and possibly upon Colonel Churchill, though I cannot say what following they will bring, if any. Mr. Trenchard, upon whom we counted for fifteen hundred men of Taunton, has been obliged to fly the country to escape arrest."
"We have heard that from Mr. Trenchard's cousin," answered the Duke. "What of Prideaux, of Ford? Is he lukewarm?"
"I was unable to elicit a definite promise from him. But he was favourably disposed to Your Grace."
His Grace made a gesture that seemed to dismiss Prideaux from their calculations. "And Mr. Hucker, of Taunton?"
Battiscomb's manner grew yet more ill at ease. "Mr. Hucker himself, I am sure, would place his sword at your disposal. But his brother is a red-hot Tory."
"Well, well," sighed the Duke, "I take it we must not make certain of Mr. Hucker. Are there any others besides Legge and Hooper upon whom you think that we may reckon?"
"Lord Wiltshire, perhaps," said Battiscomb, but with a lack of assurance.
"A plague on perhaps!" exclaimed Monmouth, growing irritable; "I want you to name the men of whom you are certain."
Battiscomb stood silent for a moment, pondering. He looked almost foolish, like a schoolboy who hesitates to confess his ignorance of the answer to a question set him.
Fletcher swung round, his grey eyes flashing angrily, his accent more Scottish than ever.
"Is it that ye're certain o' none, Mr. Battiscomb?" he exclaimed.
"Indeed," said Battiscomb, "I think we may be fairly certain of Mr. Legge and Mr. Hooper."
"And of none besides?" questioned Fletcher again. "Be these the only representatives of the flower of England's nobility that is to flock to the banner of the cause of England's freedom and religion?" Scorn was stamped on every word of his question.
Battiscomb spread his hands, raised his brows, and said nothing.
"The Lord knows I do not say it exulting," said Fletcher; "but I told Your Grace yours was hardly the case of Henry the Seventh, as my Lord Grey would have you believe."
"We shall see," snapped Grey, scowling at the Scot. "The people are coming in hundreds—aye, in thousands—the gentry will follow; they must."
"Make not too sure, Your Grace—oh, make not too sure," Wilding besought the Duke. "As I have said, these hinds have nothing to lose but their lives."
"Faith, can a man lose more?" asked Grey contemptuously. He disliked Wilding by instinct, which was but a reciprocation of the feeling with which Wilding was inspired by him.
"I think he can," said Mr. Wilding quietly. "A man may lose honour, he may plunge his family into ruin. These are things of more weight with a gentleman than life."
"Odds death!" blazed Grey, giving a free rein to his dislike of this calm gentleman. "Do you suggest that a man's honour is imperilled in His Grace's service?"
"I suggest nothing," answered Wilding, unmoved. "What I think, I state. If I thought a man's honour imperilled in this service, you would not see me at this table now. I can make you no more convincing answer."
Grey laughed unpleasantly, and Wilding, a faint tinge on his cheek-bones, measured him with a stern, intrepid look before which his lordship's shifty glance was observed to fall. Wilding's eye, having achieved that much, passed from him to the Duke, and its expression softened.
"Your Grace sees," said he, "how well founded were the fears I expressed that your coming has been premature."
"In God's name, what would you have me do?" cried the Duke, and petulance made his voice unsteady.
Mr. Wilding rose, moved out of his habitual calm by the earnestness that pervaded him. "It is not for me to say again what I would have Your Grace do. Your Grace has heard my views, and those of these gentlemen. It is for Your Grace to decide."
"You mean whether I will go forward with this thing? What alternative have I?"
"No alternative," put in Grey with finality. "Nor is alternative needed. We'll carry this through in spite of timorous folk and birds of ill-omen that croak to aifright us."
"Our service is the service of the Lord," cried Ferguson, returning from the window in the embrasure of which he had been standing; "the Lord cannot but destine it to prevail."
"Ye said so before," quoth Fletcher testily. "We need here men, money, and weapons—not divinity."
"You are plainly infected with Mr. Wilding's disease," sneered Grey.
"Ford," cried the Duke, who saw Wilding's eyes flash fire; "you go too fast. Mr. Wilding, you will not heed his lordship."
"I should not be likely to do so, Your Grace," answered Wilding, who had resumed his seat.
"What shall that mean?" quoth Grey, leaping to his feet.
"Make it quite clear to him, Tony," whispered Trenchard coaxingly; but Mr. Wilding was not as lost as were these immediate followers of the Duke's to all sense of the respect due to His Grace.
"I think," said Wilding quietly, "that you have forgotten something."
"Forgotten what?" bawled Grey.
"His Grace's presence."
His lordship turned crimson, his anger swelled to think that the very terms of the rebuke precluded his allowing his feelings a free rein.
Monmouth leaned forward. "Sit down," he said to Grey, and Grey, so lately called to the respect he owed His Grace, obeyed him. "You will both promise me that this affair shall go no further. I know you will do it if I ask you, particularly when you remember how few are the followers upon whom I may depend. I am not in case to lose either of you through foolish words uttered in a heat which, in both your hearts, is born, I know, of your loyalty to me."
Grey's coarse, elderly face took on a sulky look, his heavy lips were pouted, his glance sullen. Mr. Wilding, on the contrary, smiled across the table.
"For my part I very gladly give Your Grace the undertaking," said he, and took care not to observe the sneer that altered the line of Lord Grey's lips. His lordship, too, was forced to give the same pledge, and he followed it up by inveighing sturdily against the suggestion that they should retreat.
"I do protest," he exclaimed, "that those who advise Your Grace to do anything but go forward boldly now, are evil counsellors. If you put back to Holland, you may leave every hope behind. There will be no second coming for you. Your influence will have been dissipated. Men will not trust you another time. I do not think that even Mr. Wilding can deny the truth of this."