Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction
"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems."
"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off at
a round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back in
the direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates must
seek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King's
wishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily.
I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up the
steps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. They
hurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to a
door near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I found
Darrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol in
his left hand.
"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor.
"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, and
he accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" he
asked.
"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly.
"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly.
I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes on
Darrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tapped
the floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf.
"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer.
"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the foot
of the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible."
The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men.
Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment.
"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "Has
Madame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?"
He answered not a word. Keeping his sword still in readiness, he
knocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a moment
it was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir Thomas
Clifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade me
enter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut close
behind us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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