The Duke of Perth had been silent so far. He had stood on the hearth, near the fire, the warmth of which he stood greatly in need of, being slight and weakly. He had turned his eyes from one speaker to another as the debate went on, and had gently rubbed the back of his head against the panelling, as if to stimulate thought. The speech of Colonel Waynflete plainly had a great effect on him, and I could see that he was making up his mind, for he continued the gentle rubbing of his head but took no note of the wrangling and jangling about the Welsh project. The storm lulled, for it had blown itself out. Everything sayable had been said times out of number. "I am for marching back at once," he declared in a loud voice. I was heartily sorry for the Prince. In his mind's eye he had seen himself in the palace of his fathers with a nation repentant at his feet. He did not know England,--no Stuart ever did,--or he would have known that the wave of chivalry that had carried him so far was bound to spend itself on the indifferent English as a wave spends itself on the indifferent sands. Yet it was hard to go back, hard to know that he had done so much more than his grandfather in '89 or his father in '15, and done it in vain. His standard was proudly flaunting in the heart of England over the grave of his cause. But he died well. "Rather than go back," he cried, "I would wish to be twenty feet under ground!" With a wave of his hand he dismissed the Council. "Slip out and look after Sultan," whispered the Colonel. "I am aide-de-camp to the Prince and cannot come. Take him to the 'Bald-Faced Stag' in the Irongate, to your right across the Square. You should find Margaret there, and Mr. Freake." I was edging out in the tail of the procession when Mr. Secretary, moved thereto by the Prince, sidled up to me, his sly eyes overrunning the outgoing chiefs as he came. He laid his hand on my arm, which gave me the creeps, and said, "His Royal Highness would speak with you, sir." He sidled back again with me behind him, wondering how far one fair kick would lift him. I stood stiff and awkward before the Prince, who, however, addressed the Colonel. "Your speech was a shrewd blow to me, Colonel. Nay, don't protest! You did a soldier's duty by me in Council as you will do it in battle. I ask no more." "And I shall do no less, sir," said the Colonel. "Well, give me a pinch of snuff, and I'll ask your advice on another military point." This was the straight way to the Colonel's heart, taking snuff and talking soldiership being to him the twin boons of life. Charles took his rappee thoughtfully and then said, "What is the best way of dealing with a solid body of the enemy with inferior forces?" "Split 'em up and smash 'em in detail, sir." "What d'ye say to that, Tom Sheridan?" asked Charles. "The oracle of Delphi could not have spoken better, sir," replied Sir Thomas.