“Was that the Colonel?” demanded Fenwick, as soon as he beheld Plessis.

“Yes,” replied the Frenchman; “but he is busy about his horses and things, and said he would be up immediately.”

“Has he got anybody with him?” demanded Sir John Fenwick in a low voice, for Plessis had left the door partly open behind him.

“Only two,” rejoined the other.

“Put down the punch, Plessis,” said Sir George Barkley—­“run down and see if you cannot stop the others from coming up with him.”

Before Plessis could do as he was bid, however, the door was flung farther open, and our old acquaintance Green entered the room alone.  He was dressed as upon the first occasion of his meeting with Wilton Brown, except that he had a sort of cloak cast over his other garments, and a much heavier sword by his side.  Plessis, who did not seem very much to like the aspect of affairs, made his exit with all speed, and closed the door; and Green, with a firm step and a somewhat frowning brow, advanced to the table, saying, “I give you good evening, gentlemen.”

Sir John Fenwick, who was nearest to him, held out his hand as to an old friend; but Green thrust his hands behind his back, and made him a low bow, saying, “I must do nothing, Sir John, that may make you believe me your comrade when I am not.”

“Nay, nay, Colonel,” said Sir John Fenwick, still holding out his hand to him, “at least as your friend of twenty years’ standing.”

“That as you please, sir,” replied Green, giving him his hand coldly.

“We have requested your presence here, Colonel,” said Charnock, “to speak over various matters—­”

“Mr. Charnock,” interrupted Green, “I have nothing to do with you.  It is with this gentleman I wish to have a word or two more than we could have the other afternoon,” and he walked directly up to Sir George Barkley.

“Well, sir, what is it that you want with me?” said Sir George.  “I hope you have thought better of what you said that night.”

“Thought, sir,” answered Green, “has only served to confirm everything that I then felt.  In the first place, Sir George Barkley, you have dealt with me in this business uncandidly; and if I had not had better information than that which you gave me, pretending to be a friend, I should have been smuggled into a transaction which I abhor and detest.”

“How mean you, sir?  How mean you?  I was perfectly candid with you,” said Sir George Barkley.

“Ha, ha, ha!” exclaimed Green, laughing scornfully.  “Perfectly candid!  Yes, when you could not be otherwise.  You told me, sir, that you wanted my assistance with ten men well armed for a service of great honour and danger; but until I put the question straightforward to you—­having already obtained a knowledge of your proceedings—­you did not tell me that the service you required was the cold-blooded murder of William, wrongly called King of England.”