Holles stared, suddenly hopeful, and yet not daring to yield entirely to his hope. “Your grace does not mean that you ... that you would do this for me?” His grace’s smile grew broader, kindlier. “But, of course, my friend. If I am to employ you, as I hope I shall, so much would be a necessary preliminary.” “Your grace!” Holles bounded to his feet. “How to thank you?” His grace waved him back again to his chair. “I will show you presently, my friend. There are certain conditions I must impose. There is a certain task I shall require of you.” “Your grace should know that you have but to name it.” “Ah!” The Duke paused, and again considered him intently. “You said in your letter that you were ready for _any_ work, for _any_ service.” “I said so. Yes. I say so again.” “Ah!” Again that soft, relieved exclamation. Then the Duke paced away to the book-lined wall and back again before continuing. “My friend, your despair comes opportunely to my own. We are desperate both, though in different ways, and it lies within the power of each to serve the other.” “If I could believe that!” “You may. The rest depends upon yourself.” He paused a moment, then on a half-humorous note proceeded: “I do not know how much of squeamishness, of what men call honesty, your travels and misfortune may have left you.” “None that your grace need consider,” said Holles, with some self-derision. “That is ... very well. Yet, you may find the task distasteful.” “I doubt it. God knows I’m not fastidious nowadays. But if I do, I will tell you so.” “Just so.” The Duke nodded, and then--perhaps because of the hesitation that still beset him to make to Holles the proposal that he had in mind--his manner suddenly hardened. It was almost that of the great gentleman speaking to his lackey. “That is why I warn you. For should you wish to tell me so, you will please to tell me without any unnecessary roaring, without the airs of a Bobadil or a Pistol, or any other of your fire-eating, down-at-heel fraternity. You have but to say ‘No,’ and spare me the vapourings of outraged virtue.” Holles stared at the man in silence for a moment, utterly dumbfounded by his tone. Then he laughed a little. “It would surprise me to discover that I’ve any virtue left to outrage.” “All the better,” snapped the Duke. He drew up a chair, and sat down, facing Holles. He leaned forward. “In your time, no doubt, you will have played many parts, Colonel Holles?” “Aye--a mort of parts.” “Have you ever played ... Sir Pandarus of Troy?” The Duke keenly watched his visitor’s face for some sign of understanding. But the Colonel’s classical education had been neglected. “I’ve never heard of him. What manner of part may that be?” His grace did not directly answer. He took another way to his ends. “Have you ever heard of Sylvia Farquharson?” Surprised anew, it was a moment before the Colonel answered him.