"Where you will never see it. But stay, tell me who you are? By what means did you obtain knowledge of these things?" "I have seen a man having a wondrous likeness to Sir Charles Denman," I replied, drawing a bow at a venture. "Ay, and he sent his pretty Constance to me. He thought to befool me with his ill-thought-out plans--me who learnt wisdom before he was born. Ay, and you saw the pretty Constance too, did you? But she hath told you naught, no--she hath told you naught. How could she? He did not know, she did not know, and you, you do not know." He laughed like a man in great glee; nevertheless I saw that his eyes were full of fear. Twenty years before he would have been a strong resolute man, whom it would have been difficult to bend, but now age had dimmed his powers and made him incapable of grasping wide issues. "If you know where it is--tell me," I said, making a false step, as I knew before the words had escaped my lips. "Ah, now I see why you have come! Ha, ha! What fools men are! You think crowns are played for with plans no weightier than boys' dice, do you? Oh, I know what I know." "So do I," I said, trying to bluff him. "And what do you know?" he questioned eagerly. "Since you are so chary of imparting knowledge, so will I be," I said quietly. "Doubtless you are an old player, Master Pycroft, therefore you know it takes two to make a game. Besides, great enterprises are dangerous when they are taken alone." "Ah, like Sir Charles, you would go into partnership with me. And I laugh at him, laugh at him! Oh, I have more at stake than you know, young master. Therefore think you I make terms with a nameless boy?" "I think you will," I replied. Again he stared at me incredulously. I could see that he was wondering who I was and how much I knew. "My armour is invulnerable," he cried, "invulnerable, I tell you. You may do your worst, but I can gain the ear of the king, and then--pouf!--what can you do?" "In two days the king may land at Dover," I replied. "What is to hinder me from going to the king, and saying to him, 'Sire, an old man who lives at Pycroft professes to have proof that you married Lucy Walters: by this means he hopes to have power over you.' What do you think the king will say? What will he do?" His eyes burned with mad anger, but he saw that I was on guard; he saw, too, that I was young and lithe and strong. "But you would not do this?" he cried. "Why not?" I asked quietly. "But what could he do?" he asked almost helplessly.