Tom looked across at Cale, and made answer:

"I' sooth, Mistress Rosamund, I know not. Perchance your father may
be better instructed."

Cale shook his head. His face was very grave.

"That is a question which I doubt if any man in London town can
answer. Every man knows Lord Claud by name and fame, but none can
tell who he is, nor whence come his wealth and power. Mark me, Tom,
it behoves you to have a care how you fall beneath the spell of his
beauty and his kindliness. He has made friends before this of
handsome, powerful lads, not long from the country, and amongst
these many have disappeared and never been heard of more, whilst
others have fallen into crime, and have languished in Newgate, or
paid the forfeit of their lives upon the gallows."

Rosamund shrank and grew pale; whilst Tom looked the perruquier
full in the face, and said:

"Truly I can believe that many men who plunge into dissipation and
vice may come in time to a bad end. But why charge that upon Lord
Claud? He can only be held responsible for his own life, and he
lives and thrives in favour with all."

"Like a green bay tree," answered the perruquier thoughtfully. "I
have often seen the wicked in great prosperity; but their downfall
comes at last."

"Do you call Lord Claud wicked?" asked Tom rather hotly.

"No," was the quiet reply; "I judge no man; but I do say that
worldly prosperity is no test of true merit. The wicked may be fat
and flourishing for long; but the Lord will avenge at the last."

"But, father," cried pretty Rosamund eagerly, "for what crimes were
the poor young men hanged of whom you spoke just now?"

"Most of them suffered for the crime of robbery on the king's
highway."

Tom again flushed rather deeply. He had heard hints and innuendoes
before this, and his wits were beginning now to piece things
together. He was angry, yet he scarce knew why.

"Do you mean to say, Master Cale," he asked, "that men accuse Lord
Claud of being the accomplice of highwaymen and footpads?"

And then he himself remembered the words of the message with which
Captain Jack had entrusted him, and a strange thrill seemed to run
down his spine.

"Men say nought of him openly," answered Cale, "but they whisper
among themselves. For my part, I know nothing of Lord Claud and his
doings. But I know that there have been marvellous clever and
daring deeds done upon the road; that the king's money chests have
been rifled again and again of gold, transmitted by the Treasury
for the pay of the soldiers in foreign lands, and that none of the
gold has ever been recovered. Now and again an obscure person has
been captured, and has suffered death for complicity in such a
crime; and it has been told me that several of such have been
stalwart and stanch youths, who had at one time been seen
frequenting Lord Claud's lodgings, much noticed and petted by him.
What truth there be in such talk I know not. Nor have I any desire
to know. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing; and the voice
of rumour is but little to be trusted."

"Very little, I should think," answered Tom quickly; for he had
already conceived a great attachment towards Lord Claud, and it
irked him to think that men should speak of him as one who was a
false friend, and the accomplice in crimes for which others
suffered whilst he reaped the spoil.

A man, especially in his hot-headed youth, seldom believes what he
has no mind to; and Tom certainly had no disposition to believe any
harm of Lord Claud.

So the talk drifted to other channels, and when presently Rosamund
declared with pretty insistence that she must not be cheated of her
walk abroad in the streets. Tom asked if he might make one of the
party without intruding; and the bright eyes of the girl gave
eloquent answer.

So they sallied forth together, and Master Cale played cicerone,
and showed Tom many strange and wonderful things, telling him
absorbing stories the while. He showed him the limits of the
ravages of the Great Fire, which he could remember well, as he was
ten years old at the time. He took them into many of the churches
afterwards built by Wren, and Tom stood lost in amaze at the
magnificent proportions of the great St. Paul's, the inside of
which he had not seen till today. He was shown also the site of one
of the Great Plague pits; and Rosamund clung trembling, yet
fascinated, to her father's arm whilst he spoke of the things that
had happened in those gruesome days.

He himself had been sent away into the country during the terrible
visitation; but his father had remained and had survived, and from
him he had learned all manner of strange tales, which Rosamund
loved to hear him tell, though they always blanched her cheek, and
brought a look of terror into her pretty eyes.

Tom thought this was a pleasanter way of spending the afternoon
than listening to the braggings of the coffee house bullies, or
watching the mummery of the play, when scarce a word could be heard
from the actors, owing to the laughter and talk that buzzed all
round the house. The clamour from the footmen's gallery alone
almost sufficed to drown the sound from the stage; and, indeed, a
short time later on, the disgraceful behaviour of the servants who
attended their masters and mistresses to the play became so
intolerable that the free gallery was closed to them, causing
regular riots every night, till military aid had to be summoned.

But Rosamund thought it must be delightful to see a play, and
wanted to hear all he could tell her about it; and so well pleased
were the pair with their conversation, that Master Cale, bethinking
him of an old friend hard by, with whom he liked to exchange a
friendly word from time to time, bid them walk up and down the
street together for a brief time, until he should pay his visit and
join them again.

This suited the young people very well, and they exchanged a good
many confidences together. Tom told her of his home at Gablehurst,
and of his mother and sister, and the father who was gone; and she
told him of her quiet life in her aunt's house, and how she would
so greatly like to remain always with her father, and watch the
life of this wonderful city.

But Tom could well understand how the perruquier would shrink from
permitting his innocent and pretty daughter to dwell beneath his
roof. His trade brought thither all manner of fine dandies and
young bloods, and if it were known that there was a pretty maiden
within doors, there would be no end to their attempts to get sight
of or speech with her; and any girl's head might be turned by the
flowery nonsense that would be spoken and written to her.

"Believe me, you are better where you are, Mistress Rosy," answered
Tom. "I would not have my sister Rachel here, now that I have seen
what London is like. It is a place for men to see at least once in
their lives; but women are better away from it. I looked about at
the painted faces, the towering heads, and the huge hoops the other
night, and I said to myself, that if my mother or sister were to
make of themselves such objects as that, I should be ready to sink
into the ground for shame--to say nothing of the ogling, and fan
tapping, and silly jargon of talk which would put a chattering
monkey to shame!"

If Tom was quoting Lord Claud's moralizings, he quoted them in all
good faith; for he had been honestly disgusted by the glimpses he
had had of the goings on of fine ladies in their houses, and could
better appreciate the simplicity and true affection of his own
womankind than he had ever done before.

At this moment there smote upon his ears the unwelcome sound of
mocking laughter that seemed familiar to him.

"Ho, ho, ho! So the country bumpkin has found a mistress already!
So he has had to leave the fine ladies, and mate with one of his
own sort after all! Ho, ho, ho! She has a neat foot and ankle, at
any rate! Let us see what sort of a face there is under the crimson
hood!"

Tom felt the girl's hand clutch fast hold of his arm, and his blood
began to tingle in his veins. He was mightily glad that he had
buckled on his sword before coming out; although, as he had put on
a heavy cloak, it was possible the bullies were not aware of that.

"Which house did your father enter, Mistress Rosamund?" he asked
quickly.

"I did not note," she answered, looking round with frightened eyes;
"but methinks it was the one with the steps and the little recess."

Tom, making a few rapid strides, whisked her quickly within the
shelter of the doorway, saying, as coolly as might be:

"Knock, and ask to join your father, if he be within. I will soon
settle these impudent fellows behind."

Then he faced about quickly, just as the four bullies he had met
before came swaggering up, ready for any mischief and fighting that
might be afoot.

"Come, Master Greengoose, let's see what sort of taste you have in
faces! You are a fine hand at making friends! Let's see how you
fare with the ladies!

"Nay, mistress, do not turn so coyly away and draw your hood over
those bright eyes--"

But the speaker got no further, for Tom's sword bad come flashing
from its sheath, and with a quick turn of the wrist he hit the
fellow full on the mouth with the hilt, so that he fell back
spluttering and swearing, the blood starting from his lips.

"Is that enough," said Tom sternly, "or will you have more?"

It was Thirsty Thring who had received the buffet, and he was the
least disposed of all that worthy quartette to show fight to a
resolute adversary; but Bully Bullen came swaggering up, drawing
his sword with a great air of assurance. He had been the hero of
many a tavern brawl before, and reckoned his skill as something to
be feared.

"So, young rooster! Wouldst crow so lustily on your dung heap? D'ye
think you're to be cock o' the walk in all London town? Are honest
citizens to be set upon, and their teeth knocked out, to please
your lusty humours? Take that, you young cub, and learn manners to
your betters!"

He made a fierce and sudden lunge at Tom as he spoke, expecting
that he had an untrained and inexperienced adversary to deal with.
But Tom had had three lessons already from Captain Raikes, as well
as bouts with Lord Claud by way of amusement; and with hardly a
perceptible effort he parried the thrust, and making his keen blade
twine round the clumsier one of his opponent, he jerked the weapon
clean out of his hand, and sent it flying half across the road.

"A fig for your boasting!" he cried contemptuously. "You had best
get out of my sight, lest I run you through for your impudence!"

Slippery Seal, seeing how matters were going, now raised a cry for
help.

"Help! help! Watchmen, to the rescue! Here is a desperate young
ruffian seeking to murder the Queen's subjects in broad daylight!
Help, I say, and take the young braggart before the magistrates!
Cannot peaceable citizens walk the streets without being set upon
by such bullies as that yonder?"

Two watchmen at that moment came hastening up, and looked at the
combatants with questioning eyes. Tom was flushed, and his sword
was still in his hand; but Rosamund had been admitted to the house,
and was going hot-foot in search of her father, to come and put a
stop to the fight; for she bad perfect faith in his power to do
anything he had a mind to.

"We four can testify," said Slippery Seal, with a voice of great
unction, "that as we were peaceably passing down the street, this
young fellow, of whom we know no good, made a sudden and unprovoked
attack upon honest Master Thring there, whose mouth is still
bleeding from the blow. Thereupon Master Bullen drew his sword to
protect him; but he was set upon so furiously, that had he not been
a notable swordsman he must needs have been killed. As it was, his
sword was dashed from his band, and there it lies in the roadway
before your eyes. I say, how long are pious and peaceable citizens
to be treated thus? Do your duty, my good fellows, and take this
young man into custody. A taste of the stocks will do him a vast
deal of good, and we will bear testimony against him with right
good will. 'In the mouth of two or three witnesses--' you know what
says the Scripture."

"Ay, you blasphemer and liar, we know well what says the Scripture:
'Thou shalt not bear false witness;' and again, 'The mouth that
speaketh lies shall be stopped.'"

Looking round quickly, Tom saw Master Cale, with his daughter
clinging to his arm, standing in the doorway of the house, and
sternly regarding the scene.

"Watchmen," he said, "if you make any prisoners today, take you
those four bullies, who are but too well known in these streets
already. It is they who delight to set upon strangers, and insult
and frighten innocent maidens. Take you them, and I will bear
witness against them; for I saw the scene with my own eyes. Would
to heaven that honest citizens could rid their streets of such
spawn!

"But I tell you, you mischievous scum, the day will come when we
will no longer stand this swaggering and bullying. We are a patient
people; but you can provoke us too far. I know you four right well.
I would sit you in the stocks in a row, or have you whipped at the
cart's tail from Newgate to Tyburn; and perchance the day may come
when--"

But the miscreants did not wait to hear the end of this harangue.
They well knew that no tale of theirs could stand for a moment
before the witness of a man respected as Master Cale the
perruquier. Fearful lest the watch, who had let go their hold of
Tom, should in turn lay hands on them, they fled helter-skelter,
but as they went they breathed out threats of being even with Tom
another time, and he knew well that this encounter had changed them
from the merely jeering enemies they had shown themselves at first
into real antagonists full of bitter animosity and hatred.

The watch were never too eager to take up evildoers who were
possessed of swords and were strong of body. They were glad enough
that Master Cale had vouched for Tom's honesty, and that the other
four had betaken themselves away. Hard knocks and sometimes fatal
injury were often the portion of these old men, so incapable of
keeping order in the streets; and thankful were they when any fray
ended in the manner of this one.

But Cale's face was rather grave as he turned homewards, his
daughter clinging to his arm, and Tom marching upon her other side
with his head high in the air.

"I thank you, my good lad, for being so stout a champion to my
little girl," he said; "and yet I would it had not happened; for it
is ill work making enemies in these days of lawlessness and
duelling."

But Tom gave a little laugh. He had no desire to make boast of his
prowess; yet he felt that he could settle a score of quarrels with
such besotted creatures as the four he had put to rout so lately,
and be no manner the worse for it himself. He was not at all sorry
for the adventure. He felt a flutter of pride and pleasure in the
shy glances shot at him from the dark eyes beneath the crimson
hood. He had made of himself a hero in the eyes of pretty Rosamund,
and he liked that experience well enough.

"Fear not for me, my good friend," he answered, in a tone that had
caught a little of the lofty ring of Lord Claud's.

"A man cannot go through life without making enemies as well as
friends. But as for such creatures as we have just quitted, why,
they are not worth a thought! I heed them no more than the wasp
that buzzes round my head. They are the scum and off scouring of
the earth--all brag and boast, but ready to run at the first hint
of danger!"

Rosamund's eyes shot forth another look of admiration; but Cale
said quietly:

"Yet it is this very scum and off scouring of the earth who have
before now kidnapped and shipped off to the plantations of Virginia
honest men of stout heart and stalwart frame; for there is great
demand for able-bodied men there, and good prices are paid for bone
and muscle. So again I say, have a care, Tom, have a care. I would
not have you entertain one coward fear, yet I would have you
careful not to provoke needless animosity; for we live in perilous
and evil days."

The colour had faded from Rosamund's cheeks at these words, and she
timidly laid a hand upon Tom's arm as he marched beside her.

"Fair sir, you will be careful," she said, in a soft and pleading
voice. "If hurt were to come to you for having so gallantly
befriended me, I should know no peace or happiness again!"

Tom looked with a smile into the face of the speaker; and Cale
heard the words, and saw the look. He gave a little sigh, and
walked on in deep thought.

It was Tom and Rosamund who did the greater part of the talking,
even after they got home and partook of the dish of tea. This then
costly beverage was reckoned by Rosamund as a Sunday treat, and
sipped with great relish; and Tom took it for the first time,
saying he would e'en make shift to like it, since Mistress Rose
vouched that it was good, although he had hitherto refused it when
offered at the houses of the fine folks he had visited.

So in talk and tea drinking an hour slipped away; and then the
perruquier rose and bid Rosamund get her hood and come; for it was
high time to fetch her aunt, and go back to Highgate.

Tom would have liked to accompany them once more, but some instinct
restrained him from making the offer. He bade adieu to Rosamund at
her own door, and went back to sit by the fire and muse of all the
things that had happened to him during this momentous week.



CHAPTER VIII. THE GREAT DUKE.


"Now, Tom, keep your eyes well open. He is about to appear!"

Tom was standing, tall and silent, feeling singularly out of place
in that gorgeous company, in a magnificent reception room,
brilliantly lighted, and crowded from one end to the other with a
throng of highly-born and fashionable persons.

He had been introduced by Lord Claud into this gay assembly, and
was already half disposed to wish himself away.

Tom had been several weeks in town now; and after his first
encounter with Lord Claud, which had led to such close intimacy for
a few days, he had seen nothing of that remarkable personage for
the space of two or three weeks.

Although perhaps a little piqued that his patron had not sent him
so much as a line of invitation, or seemed to remember his
existence, Tom was not sure that he regretted his lack of memory.
Lord Claud had certainly fascinated his imagination, and won his
affections; but he seemed to be a mysterious character, whose
friendship might not prove too desirable a possession. It was not
his place, he thought, with the simple pride of the countryman, to
seek to thrust himself upon a man so much greater than himself. So
he had gone about seeing the sights of the town with Harry Gay,
spending his money with some freedom, and indulging in a little
play and dicing at various houses of entertainment. But he kept
within moderate bounds in his pleasures, both because he desired to
eke out his funds as far as possible, and because he did not wish
to fall under the displeasure of his kind host, Master Cale, the
father of pretty Rosamund.

Tom thought a good deal about Rosamund during the week, and
regarded Sunday as the red-letter day of his calendar. Master Cale
did not forbid him to be of their company upon the afternoons when
they walked abroad, and he and the maid were excellent friends by
this time, and exchanged many gay quips and sallies together.
Rosamund always made him tell the story of his past week in some
detail; and Tom had therefore another motive for keeping free from
scenes and company which would have made his story unfit hearing
for her pretty ears.

Already he had begun to think that when he had travelled and seen
the world, and was ready to go home and take up the duties which at
five and twenty would devolve upon him, he would return with far
greater contentment and pleasure if he could take back Rosamund as
his wife. He could not fancy that any life would be dull and
monotonous shared with her, nor any home dreary that was lightened
by the sunshine of her presence.

The image of Rosamund had begun almost to obliterate that of Lord
Claud in his imagination, when suddenly one day he found himself
again in company of that gentleman at the coffee house he generally
frequented.

Lord Claud laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder, saying, with a
light laugh:

"O Tom, Tom, whom I called so trusty, I fear me you are as fickle
as any maid! But what does the prophet when the mountain will not
come to him? He even puts his pride in his pocket and goes to the
mountain. You are a solid mountain in your way, good Tom; and here
is the prophet come after you!"

Tom looked up, half ashamed, half flattered, the charm of Lord
Claud's presence beginning at once to make itself felt.

"My lord, I could not think you wanted such a humble person as
myself! And you had but to send me a line to Master Cale's if you
did," he stammered.

Lord Claud dropped into the seat next him, laughing a light,
low-toned laugh.

"I like your simplicity, my honest Tom. Keep it as long as you can;
for it is a quality rarely met with in these days, and smells as
sweet as lavender in country gardens. I have not been wont to need
to ask my friends to visit me. They swarm about my rooms like bees
round honey, so long as there be honey to gather from my hive. How
do you think you are going to live, my young friend, when your
store of guineas is melted, if you have not learned that noble art
of picking and stealing, which our young blades of fashion practise
with such success and grace?"

So the acquaintance was renewed, Tom quickly falling again beneath
the spell of the strong personality of Lord Claud. He had not
entirely ceased his sword practice with Captain Raikes during the
past weeks, and now was to be found at his hall almost every day.
Lord Claud himself would sometimes come and watch and applaud; and
more than once, as the two had walked away together, linked arm in
arm, his patron had said:

"Good swordsmanship is an art to be greatly prized. It makes a man
respected and feared. It gives him distinction with his fellows.
Besides, one never knows when it may be useful for the saving of
one's skin. A man who can wield the rapier with skill, master his
horse as you can, honest Tom, and shoot fair and true with pistol
and musket, may go through life to a merry tune, and even die at
last in his bed, if he has a mind for so respectable an end!"

The days were shortening to their darkest by now. Snow fell in the
streets, and made walking disagreeable. Tom found it pleasant to
ride along beside Lord Claud, mounted upon the mettlesome mare,
Nell Gwynne, who appeared kept just now for his especial use and
behoof. He still spent his Sundays at his lodgings; but pretty
Rosamund was not always able to come across when the snow lay deep
along the country roads. Tom began to think less of her again, and
more of his patron and friend; being, as may have already been
gleaned, a youth of impressionable nature, easily moulded by the
character of his associates, although not without a latent firmness
of will which might develop into sterling metal in time, though,
perhaps, not until the admixture of dross had been purged away by
the action of the furnace of trial.

All London was now agog over the return of the victor of Blenheim.
The great Duke of Marlborough had been upon his way home for some
time. In the middle of December he reached London, and took his
seat in the House of Lords; and it was said that early in the next
year there would be a monstrous fine procession from the Tower to
Westminster, in which all the trophies of war would be solemnly
paraded.

Tom was as excited as anybody over all this, and as eager to obtain
sight of the great Duke. Lord Claud had promised that he should not
only see him, but be one of the same company at some fine house
where he would show himself. Tom had often been to grand enough
houses already with his friend; but it seemed to him overmuch to
suppose that he could be introduced into any company of which the
Duke of Marlborough was to be a member.

Lord Claud, however, was not given to vain boasting. The open-house
festivities of Christmas were approaching. He himself had won the
entree to an extraordinary number of fashionable houses; and this
evening here was Tom, come with his patron to a nobleman's
dwelling, standing in the crowd of fashionable grandees, all in a
flutter of excitement to see the hero of the hour at close
quarters.

"Keep your eyes open, Tom; you cannot fail to see him as he passes
through the room. You are lucky in being able to look over the
heads of all the crowd. No tiptoeing lady can intercept your view
even with her towering headdress!"

This was hardly true; for there were ladies whose headdresses were
of such monstrous proportions that the dame of five feet stood
seven feet high, taking the heels of her shoes and the tower on her
head into consideration! But luckily these extravagant follies were
confined only to the few, the majority of the ladies being content
with a headdress of more moderate dimensions.

There was a great buzz of talk going on as it became known that the
Duke was approaching--some eager to know if the Duchess would be
with him; others laughing at the name, and vowing that Mrs. Morley
could never bear to part with her dear Mrs. Freeman even for an
hour!

The doors at the end of the room were thrown suddenly open. The
master of the house appeared, leading with great distinction of
manner a little knot of guests, who passed through the crowded
outer reception room at a slow pace, returning the many salutations
of the company with great show of goodwill, disappearing presently
behind the curtains which shut off the innermost room where the
lady of the house was awaiting them, with some of the more select
and high-born guests.

"That is the Duke," said Lord Claud to Tom, indicating a tall and
elegant man, who looked to him hardly old enough for the general of
so many victorious battles. He was singularly handsome, with a
languid grace of bearing that seemed strange in a soldier. He spoke
in a peculiarly modulated and refined voice, and plainly possessed
the art of saying the right thing to the right person, and that at
the right moment. His silver tongue had done as much good service
in keeping the Allies in harmony, as his military genius in forming
combinations and defeating the ends of the enemy.

At his side was the Duchess, a fine-looking woman of commanding
presence, not beautiful, but with a very elegant figure and
remarkably abundant hair, which she wore in a more tasteful way
than most of the company. A few paces behind came another notable
figure, that of Marshal Tallard, the French general whom
Marlborough had taken prisoner at Blenheim, and whom he had brought
with him to England; but whom he treated with every courtesy, and
with whom he bad formed something very like a real friendship.

Lord Claud whispered to Tom that Marshal Tallard had been the one
French general whose genius was in the least able to cope with that
of Marlborough; and to have him in safe keeping in this country was
a most excellent thing for the Grand Alliance.

As soon as the distinguished guests had disappeared, the buzz of
talk rose louder than before. Tom asked, in puzzled tones, what all
this chatter about Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman meant; and Lord
Claud laughed, as he replied:

"Have you never heard of the whim of the Queen to call herself Mrs.
Morley in her letters to the Duchess, who in her turn is Mrs.
Freeman? And very well is she so named, for never was subject more
free with sovereign than is Duchess Sarah with good Queen Anne.
Indeed, there be not those lacking who say that such freedom cannot
go on for ever. However fondly the Queen may love the Duchess now,
she cannot for ever submit to be the subject of her subject. Some
day there will be a storm, and then it will behove Mrs. Freeman to
sing to a different tune! For the Queen has a will of her own when
once it is roused, and can show a stubborn front when she
chooses--as some of her ministers have already found to their
discomfiture!"

Lord Claud strolled away presently, leaving Tom to look about him
and listen to the idle chatter of the shifting throng. He made out
that though the Duke of Marlborough was in great popular esteem,
his Duchess was little liked; and spiteful things were circulated
to her disfavour all round the room. It was plain that she had a
very overbearing temper, and made many enemies; but her affection
for her husband and children was never disputed, nor his for her,
though there were many who marvelled what a man of his parts could
see in such a shrew to be so devoted to her as had always been the
case.

"For she belabours him sorely with her tongue times and again, and
ofttimes writes him fiery letters, which discompose him more than a
reverse in arms. When she smiles, he is filled with an extraordinary
joy; and when she frowns, he knows no peace till he has conciliated
her. 'Tis the strangest thing in a man such as he; and the Queen is
just as bad. In old days the woman would have been burned as a witch,
for she has certainly bewitched that pair, though no one else can
see wherein her wondrous charm lies."

Later on in the evening, when the company had somewhat thinned, and
when the card rooms had drawn off a number of those who yet
remained, the Duke was seen strolling by himself through the suite
of rooms, exchanging friendly nods and words with the many eager
acquaintances he met there.

Marlborough had that recollection of faces which is so often the
prerogative of royalty; and he had none of the pride which hinders
a man from greeting an old friend, even though his station in life
was humble. The Duke had been but the son of a country gentleman,
when he came to court as plain John Churchill. He had climbed the
ladder of fame and fortune fast; but he remembered his former
friends, and never forgot to salute them in company. His charm of
manner was felt by all who came in contact with him. However
worried or hard pressed, he never let his irritation be seen, and
he never appeared in haste. He was as suave and gentle in manner
amongst the humbler sort of company as in the presence of royalty
itself; and his clear glance passed quickly from face to face as he
talked, as though he were secretly taking the measure of men,
although his languor of manner never varied.

More than once, as he walked hither and thither through the rooms,
had Tom's glance crossed his. Possibly it was the young man's great
height which took the eye of the soldier in the midst of this
crowd, where smirking fops and bending courtiers predominated. Tom
could not be accused of bowing or smirking. He remained the whole
time leaning back against the wall in the same place; his face
grave; his eyes following the movements of this or that person; his
lips silent, because he could not frame them to the jargon of
tongues and the stilted phrases of the day, and besides he had no
acquaintances in this gay throng, save only Lord Claud himself.

Tom was looking in some curiosity to see if Lord Claud was
acquainted with the Duke. He had never said so; but then Lord Claud
was not given to boasting, and had already surprised Tom by the
number of his notable acquaintances. The Duke was walking along,
skirting the wall of the room. Everybody gave way for him to pass.
He was now very near to Lord Claud, and not far from Tom himself,
for his patron had been strolling idly in his direction.

Tom saw the eyes of the two men cross, and Lord Claud make his
courtly bow, to which the Duke responded gracefully. Lord Claud
took one step forward, and said in a low tone, every syllable of
which, however, was audible to Tom:

"I have never before had the honour of speaking with your Grace;
but there is one word that I crave to speak in your ear. If there
be some secret mission of danger which the Duke of Marlborough
desires to intrust to two men, stout of heart, cool of head, and
skilled in the use of the sword, then I can promise that the
services of myself and my trusty comrade here are at your Grace's
disposal; and I think I can promise that, whether we succeed or
not, we can be true to the death."

And Lord Claud, as he spoke, laid a hand upon the arm of the
astonished Tom, who had certainly not understood his words of
former days to mean anything quite so definite as this.

At the same time the heart of the youth leaped within him as he
heard, and he felt a thrill run through his veins. As the soft yet
searching gaze of the Duke fell upon him, he felt himself flush to
the temples like a girl; and yet at that moment he felt that he
could willingly lay down his life to serve so great a man as this.

"And who may have told you, sir, that I have need of trusty men for
the secret service?" asked Marlborough, in his even tone.

"My knowledge of men and of warfare have told me," answered Lord
Claud, with his accustomed serenity of manner. "True men are not to
be plucked from every tree, as I have found to mine own cost. A man
may prove but a treacherous reed, upon whom if one leans it goes
into his hand. Therefore, your Grace, have I made bold to tell you
of two trusty servants, something wearied with the hollow life of
this great city, who are willing and ready to travel farther
afield, and to whom peril or danger adds but zest to any quest."

Marlborough stood thoughtfully regarding the two men before him.
Lord Claud returned his gaze by one full and calm; Tom's eyes
glowed and kindled by reason of the keenness of the surging
thoughts within.

"You are he whom men call Lord Claud," said the Duke thoughtfully.
"You know that there are strange whispers afloat about you, my
lord?"

"I know it well."

"And you have never denied those whispers?"

Lord Claud smiled slightly.

"My sword has answered a few taunts. For the rest, I heed them not
overmuch. If we began to take cognizance of the chatterings of this
world of magpies, we might have a duel to fight every day of our
lives."