"Business? What business?"

They told him, and scarce had they got the words out than he cut in
impatiently. "That's no matter now.

"Not yet, perhaps," said Mr. Wilding; "but it will be if that letter
gets to Whitehall."

"Odso!" was the impatient retort, "there's other news travelling to
Whitehall that will make small-beer of this - and belike it's well on
its way there already."

"What news is that?" asked Trenchard. Vallancey told them. "The Duke
has landed - he came ashore this morning at Lyme."

"The Duke?" quoth Mr. Wilding, whilst Trenchard merely stared. "What
Duke?"

"What Duke! Lord, you weary me! What dukes be there? The Duke of
Monmouth, man."

"Monmouth!" They uttered the name in a breath. "But is this really
true?" asked Wilding. "Or is it but another rumour?"

"Remember the letter your friends intercepted," Trenchard bade him.

"I am not forgetting it," said Wilding.

"It's no rumour," Vallancey assured them. "I was at White Lackington