Then came the blessed relief.  For the first moment, so genuine appeared his passion, I had believed him; and that the ambushment was there, as he had said.  Then, like a train of gunpowder, light ran along my mind and I understood that it was the same game still that they were playing with me; that there was no ambushment ready; that they had indeed fixed upon this journey of the King’s; but that they were unprepared and desired delay.  His anxiety about my servant; his evident displeasure and impatience; his sending for me at all when he must have known over and over again that I was not of his party—­each detail fitted in like a puzzle.  And yet I must not shew a sign of it!

I hid my face in my hands for a moment, to think what I could answer.  Then I looked up.

“Mr. Rumbald,” said I, “you are right.  I am too deeply pledged.  Tell me what I am to do.  It is sink or swim with me now.”

He believed, of course, that I was lying; and so I was, but not as he thought.  He believed that he had gained his point; and the relief of that thought melted him.  He believed, that is, that I should presently make an excuse to get hold of my servant and send him off to delay the King’s coming.  Then, I suppose, he saw the one flaw in his design; and he strove, very pitifully, to put it right.

“One more thing, Mr. Mallock,” said he, “this is not the only party that waits for him.  There is another on the Royston road, among the downs near Barkway.  They will catch him whichever way he comes.”

I nodded.

“I had supposed so,” I said; for I did not wish to confuse him further.

“Well,” said he, “why I have sent for you is that you may help me here.  There may be more guards with the King than we think for.  It may come to a fight; and even a siege here—­if they come this way.  We must be ready to defend this place for a little.”

It was, indeed, pitiful to see how poor he was as an actor.  His sternness was all gone, or very nearly:  he babbled freely and drunkenly—­walking up and down the chamber, like a restless beast.  He told me point after point that he need not—­even their very code—­how “swan-quills” and “goose-quills” and “crow-quills” stood for blunderbusses and muskets and pistols; and “sand and ink” for powder and balls.  It was, as I say, pitiful to see him, now that his anxiety was over, and he had me, as he thought, in his toils.  It was a very strange nature that he had altogether;—­this old Cromwellian and Puritan—­and I am not sure to this day whether he were not in good faith in his murderous designs.  I thought of these things, even at this moment; and wondered what he would do if he knew the truth.

At supper he fell silent again, and even morose; and I think it possible he may have had some suspicions of me; for he suspected everyone, I think.  But he brightened wonderfully when I said with a very innocent air that I would like my servant to be fetched, and that I would give him his instructions and send him back to London, for that I did not wish to embroil him in this matter.