"I spoke
to no one," said the Duke hastily--"nay, I mistake, I remember
a fellow
whispered in my ear, that one, who I thought had left London
was still
lingering in town. A person whom I had business with."
"Was yon
the messenger?" said Ormond, singling out from the crowd who
stood in the
court-yard a tall dark-looking man, muffled in a large
cloak, wearing
a broad shadowy black beaver hat, with a long sword of
the Spanish
fashion--the very Colonel, in short, whom Buckingham had
despatched in
quest of Christian, with the intention of detaining him in
the country.
When
Buckingham's eyes had followed the direction of Ormond's finger, he
could not help
blushing so deeply as to attract the King's attention.
"What new
frolic is this, George?" he said. "Gentlemen, bring that
fellow forward.
On my life, a truculent-looking caitiff--Hark ye,
friend, who are
you? If an honest man, Nature has forgot to label it
upon your
countenance.--Does none here know him?
'With every symptom of a knave complete,
If he be honest, he's a devilish
cheat.'"
"He is
well known to many, sire," replied Ormond; "and that he walks in
this area with
his neck safe, and his limbs unshackled, is an instance,
amongst many,
that we live under the sway of the most merciful Prince of
Europe."
"Oddsfish!
who is the man, my Lord Duke?" said the King. "Your Grace
talks
mysteries--Buckingham blushes--and the rogue himself is dumb."
"That
honest gentleman, please your Majesty," replied the Duke of
Ormond,
"whose modesty makes him mute, though it cannot make him blush,
is the
notorious Colonel Blood, as he calls himself, whose attempt to
possess himself
of your Majesty's royal crown took place at no very
distant date,
in this very Tower of London."
"That
exploit is not easily forgotten," said the King; "but that the
fellow lives,
shows your Grace's clemency as well as mine."
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