“If things continue as at present, your grace should have no cause for complaint on that score. Soon the City will be the most depopulated spot in England. Already more than half the houses in Knight Ryder Street are empty. I trust your grace is not thinking of residing there.” “Not ... not exactly.” His grace was frowning, thoughtfully. “There’s no infection in the street, I hope?” “Not yet. But there’s an abundant fear of it, as everywhere else in the City. This merchant in Fenchurch Street didn’t trouble to conceal the opinion that I was crazy to be seeking a house in London at such a time.” “Pooh, pooh!” His grace dismissed the matter of fear contemptuously. “These cits frighten themselves into the plague. It’s opportune enough. It will serve to keep men’s minds off the concerns of their neighbours. I want no spying on me in Knight Ryder Street. To-morrow, Bates, you’ll seek this merchant and engage the house--and ye’re to acquire the tenancy of it in your own name. Ye understand? My name is not to be mentioned. To avoid questions you’ll pay him six months’ rent at once.” Bates bowed. “Perfectly, your grace.” His grace leaned back in his great chair, and considered his servant through half-closed, slyly smiling eyes. “You’ll have guessed, of course, the purpose for which I am acquiring this house.” “I should never presume to guess any purpose of your grace’s.” “By which you mean that my purpose baffles you. That is an admission of dullness. You recall the little comedy we played a month ago for the benefit of Miss Farquharson?” “I have occasion to. My bones are still sore from the cudgelling I got. It was a very realistic piece of acting, on the part of your grace’s cursed French grooms.” “The lady didn’t think so. At least, it did not convince her. We must do better this time.” “Yes, your grace.” There was the least dubiety in the rascal’s tone. “We’ll introduce a more serious note into the comedy. We’ll carry the lady off. That is the purpose for which I require this house.” “Carry her off?” said Bates, his face grown suddenly very serious. “That is what I require of you, my good Bates.” “Of me?” Bates gasped. His face lengthened, and his wolfish mouth fell open. “Of me, your grace?” He made it plain that the prospect scared him. “To be sure. What’s to gape at?” “But, your grace. This ... this is ... very serious.” “Bah!” said his grace. “It ... it’s a hanging matter.” “Oh, damn your silliness. A hanging matter! When I’m behind you?” “That’s what makes it so. They’ll never venture to hang your grace. But they’ll need a scapegoat, if there’s trouble, and they’ll hang your instruments to pacify the rabble’s clamour for justice.” “Are ye quite mad?” “I’m not only sane, your grace; I’m shrewd. And if I may presume to advise your grace....” “That would, indeed, be a presumption, you impudent rogue!” The Duke’s voice rose sharply, a heavy frown rumpled his brow. “You forget yourself, I think.”