e
thinking now, but of the Duke of Monmouth. Trenchard had told him some
ugly truths that morning of how in his love-making he appeared to have
shipwrecked the Cause ere it was well launched. If this letter got
to Whitehall there was no gauging--ignorant as he was of what was in
it--the ruin that might follow; but they had reason to fear the worst.
He saw his duty to the Duke most clearly, and he breathed a prayer of
thanks that Richard had chosen to put that letter to such a use as this.
He knew himself checkmated; but he was a man who knew how to bear defeat
in a becoming manner. He turned suddenly.

"The letter is in your hands?" he inquired.

"It is," she answered.

"May I see it?" he asked.

She shook her head--not daring to show it or betray its whereabouts lest
he should use force to become possessed of it--a thing, indeed, that was
very far from his purpose.

He considered a moment, his mind intent now rather upon the Duke's
interest than his own.

"You know," quoth he, "the desperate enterprise to which I stand
committed. But it is a bargain between us that you do not betray me nor
that enterprise so long as I leave you rid of my presence.

"That is the bargain I propose," said she.

He looked at her a moment with hungry eyes, and she found his glance
almost more than she could bear, so strong was its appeal. Besides,
it may be that she was a thought beglamoured by the danger in which he
stood, which seemed to invest him with a certain heroic dignity.

"Ruth," he said at length, "it may well be that that which you desire
may speedily come to pass; it may well be that in the course of this
rebellion that is hatching you may be widowed. But at least I know that
if my head falls it will not be my wife who has betrayed me to the axe.
For that much, believe me, I am supremely grateful."

He advanced. He took her unresisting hand again and bore it to his lips,
bowing low before her. Then erect and graceful he turned on his heel and
left her.

CHAPTER IX. MR. TRENCHARD'S COUNTERSTROKE

Now, however much it might satisfy Mr. Wilding to have Ruth's word for
it that so long as he left her in peace neither he nor the Cause had any
betrayal to fear from her, Mr. Trenchard was of a very different mind.

He fumed and swore and worked himself into a very passion. "Zoons,
man!" he cried, "it would mean utter ruin to you if that letter reached
Whitehall."

"I realize it; but my mind is easy. I have her p