Great Britain -- History -- William and Mary, 1689-1702 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
The floor of the room in which he had left us was sunk a little below
the level of the road outside; and the ceiling being low and the
window of greater width than height, and the mantel-shelf having for
ornament a row of clean delft and pewter, I thought that no place had
ever looked more snug and cosy. But whatever comfort I looked to
derive from surroundings so much better than I had expected, was
dashed by Smith's first words, who, as soon as we were alone came
close to me under the pretence of unclasping my cloak, and in a low,
guarded tone, and with a look of the grimmest, warned me to play my
part.
"We go upstairs after supper, and in five minutes it will be done," he
muttered. "Go through with it boldly, and in twenty-four hours you may
be back in London. But fail or play me false, Mr. Price, and, by
heaven, I put a ball through your head first, and my own afterwards.
Do you mark me? Do you mark me, man?"
I whispered in abject nervousness--seeing that he was indeed in
earnest--that I would do my best; and he handed me a ring which was
doubtless the same that the Countess had given to her woman. It had a
great dog cut cameo-wise on the stone, which I think was an opal; and
it fitted my finger not ill. But I had no more than time to glance at
it before the host and his wife, a pale, scared-looking woman, came in
with some bacon and eggs and ale, and as one or other of them stayed
with us while we ate, and watched us closely, nothing more passed.
Smith talking indifferently to them, sometimes about the fruit
harvest, and sometimes in cant phrases about the late plot, the arrest
of Hunt at Dymchurch (who had been used to harbour people until they
had crossed), how often Gill's ship came over, Mr. Birkenhead's many
escapes, and the like. Probably the man and woman were testing Smith;
but if so, he satisfied them, for when we had finished our meal, and
he asked openly if Sir John would see us, they raised no objection,
but the man, taking a light from the woman's hand, led the way up a
low-browed staircase to a room over that in which we had supped. Here
he knocked, and a voice bidding us enter. Smith went in, and I after
him, my heart beating furiously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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