"Back agin to the Rye House here," continued the spokesman, "an' be tellin' the rest o' yer which coach the king's a-ridin' in--" "And how many--" "I'm a comin' to that, an't I? an' how many's a follerin' after 'em in coaches too, an' how many guards a 'orseback--" "Six at the outside," said Rumbold. "'Tis never more. You, colonel," he went on, addressing Walcot, "undertake to attack them." "As a soldier, I claim that privilege," answered Walcot. "If report speaks truth, you're not wanting in bravery," said Rumsey, measuring the stately and graceful figure of Walcot with rather jealous eyes; "but six is a biggish handful for one man to tackle; and if," he went on with a sneer, "your gift of second sight should chance to be making twelve of it--" "Or if in fact there should happen to be so many," quietly interrupted Walcot, "I trust I may not be found wanting--nor tripping neither." "As to the beasts," said Rumbold quickly, "we shall have little trouble with them. They'll all be spent and weak as water with the long stage." "They change at Hoddesdon, do they not?" said Howard. [Sidenote: Preparations for treason.] "If they were foreordained to reach there, they would, my lord," rebukefully replied Rumbold. "And now, what about the disguises?" he continued, addressing his foreman. The son of the soil scratched his carroty poll, and gazed round with lack-lustre eyes. "The what, maaster?" he said at last. "The labourers' clothes, man, that you promised to furnish my Lord Howard here with, and the other gentlemen." [Sidenote: The disguises.] "Oy, oy," and a gleam of intelligence broke over the stolid face. "Now you speak English, Maaster Rumbold. Yes, they be all roight enough; leastways they will be. But 'tes jest a bit of a job loike, doant'e see, Master Rumbold. Stands to reason as 'tes, doant it? Gettin' tagether o' poor folks' togs. The quality's got any quantity o' coats an' britches, silk and satin', an' velvet an' double broadcloth into the bargain; but 'taint every day an' ollis, as yer poor man's gotten his one decent smock. But, never ya fret, my lord. Me an' these here," and he jerked his thumb at his two comrades, "a doin' our main best; an' the blame woan't be to our door, if us doant make such clod poles and scares o' ya, an' these here other dandy gen'lemen, as the very crows sha'ant be able to make up their minds whether to fly away from ya for freight, or peck yer eyes out as ya walk along." "That is satisfactory," said Rumbold. "The next question," he went on, letting his gaze rest on the elegant proportions of Howard, who had thrown himself in a careless lounging attitude into a tall-backed Cordovan leather chair, "the next question is"--