Mechanically, without answering a word, the Colonel drank with him. His heart was turned to lead. The portrait Tucker had so swiftly painted of Monk’s soul was painted obviously with a hostile, bitter brush. Yet the facts of Monk’s life made it plausible. The likeness was undeniable, if distorted. And Holles--rendered pessimistic and despondent by his very condition--saw the likeness and not the distortion. “If you are right,” he said slowly, his eyes upon the table, “I may as well take your advice, and hang myself.” “Almost the only thing left for a self-respecting man in England,” said Tucker. “Or anywhere else, for that matter. But why so bitter about England in particular?” Tucker shrugged. “You know my sentiments, what they always were. I am no trimmer. I sail a steady course.” Holles regarded him searchingly. He could not misunderstand the man’s words, still less his tone. “Is that not.... Is it not a dangerous course?” he asked. Tucker looked at him with wistful amusement. “There are considerations an honest man should set above danger.” “Oh, agreed.” “There is no honesty save in steadfastness, Randal, and I am, I hope, an honest man.” “By which you mean that I am not,” said Holles slowly. Tucker did not contradict him by more than a shrug and a deprecatory smile that was of mere politeness. The Colonel rose, stirred to vehemence by his friend’s manifest opinion of him. “I am a beggar, Ned; and beggars may not choose. Besides, for ten years now I have been a mercenary, neither more nor less. My sword is for hire. That is the trade by which I live. I do not make governments; I do not plague myself with questions of their worth; I serve them, for gold.” But Tucker, smiling sadly, slowly shook his head. “If that were true, you would not be in England now. You came, as you have said, because of the war. Your sword may be for hire; but you still have a country, and the first offer goes to her. Should she refuse it, the next will not go to an enemy of England’s. So why belittle yourself thus? You still have a country, and you love it. There are many here who are ready to love you, though they may not be among those who govern England. You have come back to serve her. Serve her, then. But first ask yourself how best she may be served.” “What’s that?” “Sit down, man. Sit, and listen.” And now, having first sworn the Colonel to secrecy in the name of their old friendship--to which and to the Colonel’s desperate condition, the other trusted in opening his heart--Tucker delivered himself of what was no less than treason.