"But is he not an exile in the Netherlands?" I asked, amazed. "That is his portion," said my father, looking mighty stern. "Or, rather, was." "Then, what comes he here for?" "To stir up rank rebellion; to play the fine Pretender; in a word, to try and wrest the crown from him who rightly wears it, to wit, his uncle, our King James." "That being so," said I, drawing myself up very straight and feeling mightily important, "I fight for Monmouth." ’Twas now my father’s turn to show amazement, the which he did by springing to his feet with such suddenness and anger that I fell back a step or two. "Stop!" he hissed across the table. "You know not what you say. Such words as those would hang a man if they were overheard. Wouldst fight for a usurper?" "They say he is the rightful heir," said I. "’They say’! Who say?" returned my father hotly. "Why, those who have a right to know," I answered glumly, for my pride was hurt. "Then know that ’they’ say wrong," he scornfully rejoined. "This Monmouth hath no more title to the crown than you or I have." "But, sir, is he not the eldest son of Charles the Second?" "They have no proof who say so. Therefore I say again, he hath no claim, no title to the throne of England." This seemed a crushing answer right enough, and so for a moment I was silent. But I had read and heard--as no doubt you have also--of some mysterious written proof of Charles’s marriage to one Lucy Walters, Monmouth’s mother. ’Twas said to have been hidden in a black box somewhere, which, when the needful time arrived, was nowhere to be found; and even they who had professed to having seen the very document in question, roundly denied all knowledge of it when brought before the Council. To be quite honest, I had but small belief in it myself, but now, in my fallen pride, it served my purpose; so---- "What of the Black Box?" I said, looking as wise as any parrot. I had expected that my father’s answer to this question would be short and sharp--indeed, perhaps nothing save a scornful laugh; but, to my great astonishment, he dropped back straight into his chair and stared at me like one possessed, while his breath came thick and fast, as though he had suffered some great shock. "What do you know of that?" he gasped at last. "Nothing, father," I answered carelessly by way of calming him, for knowing that he suffered from a weakness of the heart I was afraid lest harm should come to him. "Nothing, that is, beyond what others know. Indeed, I thought ’twas common knowledge." "Common knowledge!" echoed my father with a fearful start. "What do you mean?" "Why, the report that there is somewhere written proof of Charles’s marriage. Is it not common knowledge? I remember hearing of it when I was a boy at school." "Yes, yes; but the box in which ’twas said to have been hidden! What do you know of that?" He put this question with a feverish eagerness and then gazed at me searchingly, if indeed not suspiciously.