"`S a lie!" he gasped.
Trenchard shut one eye and owlishly surveyed his companion with the other. "They say," he added, "that you're for forsaking `Duke's party.""Villainous!" Richard protested. "I'll sli' throat of any man `t says so." And draining the pewter at his elbow, he smashed it down on the table to emphasize his seriousness.
Trenchard replenished it with the utmost promptness, then sat back in his tall chair and pulled a moment at the fresh pipe with which he had equipped himself.
I think I espy,"' he quoted presently, "`virtue and valour crouched in thine eye.' And yet.., and yet... if I had cause to think it true, I'd... I'd run you through the vitals - jus' so," and he prodded Richard's waistcoat with the point of his pipe-stem. His swarthy face darkened, his eyes glittered fiercely. "Are ye sure ye're norrer foul traitor?" he demanded suddenly. "Are y' sure, for if ye're not..."He left the terrible menace unuttered, but it was none the less understood. It penetrated the vinous fog that beset the brain of Richard, and startled him.
"`Swear I'm not!" he cried. "`Swear mos' solemnly I'm not.""Swear?" echoed Trenchard, and his scowl grew darker still. "Swear?
A man may swear and yet lie - `a man may smile and smile and be a villain.' I'll have proof of your loyalty to us. I'll have proof, or as there's a heaven above and a hell below, I'll rip you up."His mien was terrific, and his voice the more threatening in that it was not raised above a whisper.
Richard sat back appalled, afraid.
"Wha'. . . what proof'll satisfy you?" he asked.
Trenchard considered it, pulling at his pipe again. "Pledge me the Duke," said he at length. "Ther's truth `n wine. Pledge me the Duke and confusion to His Majesty the goldfinch." Richard reached for his pewter, glad that the test was to be so light. "Up on your feet, man,"grumbled Trenchard. "On your feet, and see that your words have a ring of truth in them."Richard did as he was bidden, the little reason left him being concentrated wholly on the convincing of his fellow tippler. He rose to his feet, so unsteadily that his chair fell over with a bang. He never heeded it, but others in the room turned at the sound, and a hush fell in the chamber. Dominating this came Richard's voice, strident with intensity, if thick of utterance.
"Down with Popery, and God save the Protestant Duke!" he cried. "Down with Popery!" And he looked at Trenchard for applause, and assurance that Trenchard no longer thought there was cause to quarrel with him.
Behind him there was a stir in the room that went unheeded by the boy.
Men nudged their neighbours; some looked frightened and some grinned at the treasonable words.
A swift change came over Trenchard. His drunkenness fell from him like a discarded mantle. He sat like a man amazed. Then he heaved himself to his feet in a fury, and smashed down his pipestem on the wooden table, sending its fragments flying.
"Damn me!" he roared. "Have I sat at table with a traitor?" And he thrust at Richard with his open palm, lightly yet with sufficient force to throw Richard off his precarious balance and send him sprawling on the sanded floor. Men rose from the tables about and approached them, some few amused, but the majority very grave. Dodsley, the landlord, came hurrying to assist Richard to his feet.
"Mr. Westmacott," he whispered in the rash fool's ear, "you were best away."Richard stood up, leaning his full weight upon the arm the landlord had about his waist. He passed a hand over his brow, as if to brush aside the veil that obscured his wits. What had happened? What had he said?
What had Trenchard done? Why did these fellows stand and gape at him?
He heard his companion's voice, raised to address the company.
"Gentlemen," he heard him say, "I trust there is none present will impute to me any share in such treasonable sentiments as Mr. Westmacott has expressed. But if there is any who questions my loyalty, I have a convincing argument for him - in my scabbard." And he struck his sword-hilt with his fist.
Then he clapped on his hat, aslant over the locks of his golden wig, and, taking up his whip, he moved with leisurely dignity towards the door. He looked back with a sardonic smile at the ado he was leaving behind him, listened a moment to the voices that already were being raised in excitement, then closed the door and made his way briskly to the stable-yard, where he called for his horse. He rode out of Bridgwater ten minutes later, and took the road to Taunton as the moon was rising big and yellow over the hills on his left. He reached Taunton towards ten o'clock that night, having ridden hell-to-leather.
His first visit was to the Hare and Hounds, where Blake and Westmacott had overtaken the courier. His next to the house where Sir Edward Phelips and Colonel Luttrell - the gentlemen lately ordered to Taunton by His Majesty - had their lodging.
The fruits of Mr. Trenchard's extraordinary behaviour that night were to be seen at an early hour on the following day, when a constable and three tything-men came with a Lord-Lieutenant's warrant to arrest Mr.
Richard Westmacott on a charge of high treason. They found the young man still abed, and most guilty was his panic when they bade him rise and dress himself- though little did he dream of the full extent to which Mr. Trenchard had enmeshed him, or indeed that Mr. Trenchard had any hand at all in this affair. What time he was getting into his clothes with a tything-man outside his door and another on guard under his window, the constable and his third myrmidon made an exhaustive search of the house. All they found of interest was a letter signed "Monmouth," which they took from the secret drawer of a secretary in the library; but that, it seemed, was all they sought, for having found it, they proceeded no further with their reckless and destructive ransacking.
