“Let the wretch go,” she said. “The blame is not his. What is he but my lord's tool?” And her eyes scorched Rotherby with such a glance of scorn as must have killed any but a shameless man. Then turning to the demurely observant gentleman who had done her such good service, “Mr. Caryll” she said, “I want to thank you. I want my lord, here, to thank you.” Mr. Caryll bowed to her. “I beg that you will not think of it,” said he. “It is I who will remain in your debt.” “Is your name Caryll, sir?” quoth the earl. He had a trick of fastening upon the inconsequent, though that was scarcely the case now. “That, my lord, is my name. I believe I have the honor of sharing it with your lordship.” “Ye'll belong to some younger branch of the family,” the earl supposed. “Like enough--some outlying branch,” answered the imperturbable Caryll--a jest which only himself could appreciate, and that bitterly. “And how came you into this?” Rotherby sneered audibly--in self-mockery, no doubt, as he came to reflect that it was he, himself, had had him fetched. “They needed another witness,” said Mr. Caryll, “and hearing there was at the inn a gentleman newly crossed from France, his lordship no doubt opined that a traveller, here to-day and gone for good tomorrow, would be just the witness that he needed for the business he proposed. That circumstance aroused my suspicions, and--” But the earl, as usual, seemed to have fastened upon the minor point, although again it was not so. “You are newly crossed from France?” said he. “Ay, and your name is the same as mine. 'Twas what I was advised.” Mr. Caryll flashed a sidelong glance at Rotherby, who had turned to stare at his father, and in his heart he cursed the stupidity of my Lord Ostermore. If this proposed to be a member of a conspiracy, Heaven help that same conspiracy! “Were you, by any chance, going to seek me in town, Mr. Caryll?” Mr. Caryll suppressed a desire to laugh. Here was a way to deal with State secrets. “I, my lord?” he inquired, with an assumed air of surprise. The earl looked at him, and from him to Rotherby, bethought himself, and started so overtly that Rotherby's eyes grew narrow, the lines of his mouth tightened. “Nay, of course not; of course not,” he blustered clumsily. But Rotherby laughed aloud. “Now what a plague is all this mystery?” he inquired. “Mystery?” quoth my lord. “What mystery should there be?” “'Tis what I would fain be informed,” he answered in a voice that showed he meant to gain the information. He sauntered forward towards Caryll, his eye playing mockingly over this gentleman from France. “Now, sir,” said he, “whose messenger may you be, eh? What's all this--” “Rotherby!” the earl interrupted in a voice intended to be compelling. “Come away, Mr. Caryll,” he added quickly. “I'll not have any gentleman who has shown himself a friend to my ward, here, affronted by that rascal. Come away, sir!” “Not so fast! Not so fast, ecod!”