“Well, I’ll work up to any conclusion you like, short of that.” “You will?” “Sure.” “Even if it were to an appearance--of that?” “Why not? ’Twould be enough for me to know my own innocence, since I’m the only one that ever believes in it.” He pondered, musing on her. “I’ll think it out, faith. We’ll arrange some trick between us--some _coup de grâce_ for her ladyship. Shall we?” “O, go to grass yourself!” she said. “Speak English.” CHAPTER XI To the Duke of York’s chambers in Whitehall came a mincing exquisite, with a guitar slung from his neck by a broad silver ribbon. He was dressed in silvered white from chin to toe, and he strutted exactly like a white leghorn cock surveying his seraglio. His long, straw-coloured hair was elaborately curled over his temples; the lashes to his eyes were like pale spun glass; a tiny cherished moustachio, pointed upwards at the tips, stood either side his round nose like a couple of thorns to a gooseberry. He hummed as he walked, flourishing a beringed and scented hand to such palace minions as met and saluted him by the way, and reaching the Duke’s quarters, acknowledged, with a charming condescension, the respectful greetings of M. Prosper, gentleman of the Chamber to his Highness, who accosted him at the door of the anteroom. “Ha, my good Prothper! I thee you well, _j’ethpère bien_?” “Vair well--most--milord of Arran. You are to come this way, sair. His Royal ’Ighness ’e expectorate you.” Bowing and waving his arms, as if he were “shooing” on a fowl, M. Prosper conducted the visitor by a private passage to the Duke’s closet, where, committing him to the hands of a page, he bobbed and ducked himself away. And the next moment the Earl found himself in the presence of the Lord High Admiral. James Stuart was seated at a table liberally strewn with documents, writing, and mathematical implements. There were no gimcracks visible on it, unless a little bronze ship, which served for a paper-weight, deserved the title. The aspect of the room, like his own, inornate, businesslike, severe, was in odd contrast with the silken frippery which came to invade it. One would have guessed some particular purpose to lie behind the permitted violation of those austere privacies. His Highness was minutely examining a chart when the lordling entered. Standing over him and occasionally dabbing a forefinger, like a discoloured banana, on some specified shoal or anchorage, was a huge individual, in a full-skirted blue coat, trimmed with the coarse lace called trolly-lolly, whose bearing spoke unmistakably of the sea. This was Captain Stone, of the _Naseby_ frigate, in fact--a practical sailorman, much in favour with his royal master. He was a rough-and-ready specimen of his class, with manners as blunt as his features. He turned to stare at the sugary apparition as it sailed into view, and a grin of derision, which he made no effort to conceal, widened his already ample features.