"The King is served in many ways," my lord answered with a fine air of contempt. "Martin, the door! And remember, another time I am not within to Captain Porter. At three in the office, sir, if you please." The man slunk away at that; but as he passed through the doorway, I heard him mutter that when Sir John Fenwick was taken he would see; and that proud as some people were now, they might be glad to save their necks when the time came. He passed out of sight then, and hearing my lord speak, I turned, and saw Matthew Smith, whom I had not before noticed, waiting on him with a letter. The Duke, pausing on the threshold of the library, broke the seal, and ran his eye over the paper. "I will send an answer," he said, "later in the day. Or----" and he looked up quickly. "Are you returning, sir?" "If your Grace pleases." "It shall be ready then by two o'clock," my lord answered stiffly. "Good-morning." "Good-morning, your Grace." And my lord went in. The colloquy had been of the slightest; but I had noted that my patron's tone, when he spoke to Smith, was guarded and civil, if distant, and that through the few formal words they had exchanged peered a sort of understanding. This shook me; and when Smith turned to me, a faint sneer on his lips, and told me that I was a bold man, my heart was water. He was at home here as everywhere; what could I do against him? "Do you understand, Mr. Price?" he repeated. "Or are you a bigger fool than I take you for?" "Why?" I stammered. "Why? Why, to push in on Porter after that fashion," he muttered under his breath--for Martin was making towards us. "Lucky he did not recognize you and denounce you! For a groat he would do it--or to spite the Duke! Take care, man," he continued seriously, "if you do not want to join Charnock, whose head is in airy quarters to-night."