“You are quite right,” said my Lord, “quite right.  I will tell them to have the horses ready.  Your servants are gone on before, I think you said, Mr. Mallock?”

I told him Yes; but I wondered why he did not shout for the maid, instead of going out himself; but I understood the reason when I found presently, when we took the road, that his own men kept a full hundred yards in the rear.  Evidently he had gone out to tell them to do so.

* * * * *

So soon as we were clear of Amwell, I began.  There was a little wind, and the weather was moist and thick, so there was no danger of our being overheard.

“My Lord,” I said, “I am very much puzzled by what I have seen.”

“Eh?” said he.

“It was a very mixed company just now, in Amwell.”

He frowned a little.

“Very excellent gentlemen, all of them—­” I hastened to add.  “But I was wondering what it was that drew them all together.  I can only think of two things.”

“What are they, Mr. Mallock?” asked my Lord a little eagerly.

“Religion or politics, my Lord,” I said.  “And I am sure that it is not the first.”

He appeared to reflect; but he was not a very good actor; and I could see that it was feigned.

“Why you are very sharp, sir,” he said.  “You have put your finger on the very place—­the very place.” (And he continued with far too short a pause):  “On which side are you, Mr. Mallock?  For the country or for the Court?”

“That is a dangerous question to answer, my Lord,” I said, very short.

“It is only dangerous for one side,” said he.

I nodded, in a grave and philosophical manner.  Then I sighed.

“You are quite right, my Lord.”

I could see that he was glancing at me continually.  Yet no explanation of his behaviour yet crossed my mind.

“Mr. Mallock,” said he after a silence, “it is no good fencing about the question.  I can see that you are disaffected.”

“That is a very safe way to put it,” I said.  “Who is not—­on one side or the other?”

“Yes,” said he, “but you are sharp enough to know what I mean.”

Again I nodded; but my mind was working like a mill; for a new thought had come to me that seemed to illumine all the rest; and yet I could not understand.  The thought was this.  Plainly my Lord Essex knew a good deal about me:  he knew enough, that is, to begin a conversation of this kind with one whom he had only met once before—­a mad proceeding altogether, if that were all he knew. Ergo, thought I, he must know more than that; and if he knew more he must know that I was in the service of His Majesty and presumably devoted to that service; probably, too, from the understanding between himself and Rumbald, he knew that I had chosen on previous occasions to masquerade as if I were not a gentleman.  Was he quite mad then?  For to talk like this to one in the confidence of His Majesty was surely a crazed proceeding!  Yet my Lord Essex was not a fool.