His lordship ripped away the silk covering of the button with a penknife, and disembowelled it of a small packet, which consisted of a sheet of fine and very closely-folded and tightly-compressed paper. This he spread, cast an eye over, and then looked up at his companion, who was watching him with simulated indolence.  
His lordship had paled a little, and there was about the lines of his mouth a look of preternatural gravity. He looked towards the door, his heavy lowering.
 
“I think,” he said, “that we shall be more in the library. Will you bear me company, Mr. Caryll?”
 
Mr. Caryll rose instantly. The earl folded the letter, and turned to go. His companion paused to pick up the fragments of the button and slip them into his pocket. He performed the office with a smile on his lips that was half pity, half contempt. It did not seem to him that there would be the least need to betray Lord Ostermore once his lordship was to the Stuart . He would not fail to betray himself through some act of thoughtless stupidity such as this.
 
In the library—the door, and that of the ante-room beyond it, carefully closed—his lordship unlocked a secretaire of , very handsomely inlaid, and, drawing up a chair, he sat down to the of the king's letter. When he had read it through, he remained lost in thought a while. At length he looked up and across towards Mr. Caryll, who was by one of the windows.
 
“You are no doubt a agent, sir,” said he. “And you will be aware of the contents of this letter that you have brought me.”
 
“Fully, my lord,” answered Mr. Caryll, “and I venture to hope that his 's promises will overcome any that you may feel.”
 
“His majesty's promises?” said my lord thoughtfully. “His majesty may never have a chance of fulfilling them.”
 
“Very true, sir. But who gambles must set a stake upon the board. Your lordship has been something of a gamester already, and—or so I gather—with little profit. Here is a chance to play another game that may mend the evil fortunes of the last.”
 
The earl scanned him in surprise. “You are excellent well informed,” said he, between surprise and .
 
“My trade demands it. Knowledge is my buckler.”
 
His lordship nodded slowly, and fell very thoughtful, the letter before him, his eyes wandering ever and anon to again some portion of it. “It is a game in which I stake my head,” he muttered presently.
 
“Has your lordship anything else to stake?” inquired Mr. Caryll.
 
The earl looked at him again with a gloomy eye, and sighed, but said nothing. Mr. Caryll resumed. “It is for your lordship to declare,” he said quite coolly, “whether his majesty has covered your stake. If you think not, it is even possible that he may be induced to improve his offer. Though if you think not, for my own part I consider that you set too high a value on that same head of yours.”
 
Touched in his vanity, Ostermore looked up at him with a sudden frown. “You take a bold tone, sir,” said he, “a very bold tone!”
 
“Boldness is the attribute next to knowledge most essential to my calling,” Mr. Caryll reminded him.
 
His lordship's eye fell before the other's cold glance, and again he into thoughtfulness, his cheek now upon his hand. Suddenly he looked up again. “Tell me,” said he. “Who else is in this thing? Men say that Atterbury is not above suspicion. Is it—”
 
Mr. Caryll forward to tap the king's letter with a . “When your lordship tells me that you are ready to concert upon your fortunes in this bottom, you shall find me disposed, perhaps, to answer questions concerning others. Meanwhile, our concern is with yourself.”
 
“Dons and the devil!” swore his lordship angrily. “Is this a way to speak to me?” He at the agent. “Tell me, my fine fellow, what would happen if I were to lay this letter you have brought me before the nearest justice?”
 
“I cannot say for sure,” answered Mr. Caryll quietly, “but it is very probable it would help your lordship to the . For if you will give yourself the trouble of reading it again—and more carefully—you will see that it makes acknowledgment of the offer of services you wrote his majesty a month or so ago.”
 
His lordship's eyes dropped to the letter again. He caught his breath in sudden fear.
 
“Were I your lordship, I should leave the nearest justice to enjoy his dinner in peace,” said Mr. Caryll, smiling.
 
His lordship laughed in a sickly manner. He felt foolish—a rare condition in him, as in most fools. “Well, well,” said he gruffly. “The matter needs reflection. It needs reflection.”
 
Behind them the door opened noiselessly, and her ladyship appeared in cloak and wimple. She paused there, unperceived by either, arrested by the words she had caught, and waiting in the hope of hearing more.
 
“I must sleep on't, at least,” his lordship was continuing. “'Tis too grave a matter to be thus in haste.”
 
A faint sound caught the keen ears of Mr. Caryll. He turned with a that bore witness to his self-control. Perceiving the countess, he bowed, and put his lordship on his guard.
 
“Ah!” said he. “Here is her ladyship returned.”
 
Lord Ostermore audibly and swung round in an alarm than which nothing could have betrayed him more effectively. “My—my love!” he cried, , and by his wild haste to the letter that he held, drew her attention to it.
 
Mr. Caryll stepped between them, his back to his lordship, that he might act as a screen under cover of which to dispose safely of that dangerous document. But he was too late. Her ladyship's quick eyes had flashed to it, and if the distance the possibility of her discovering anything that might be written upon it, she, nevertheless, could see the curious nature of the paper, which was of the flimsiest tissue of a sort extremely .
 
“What is't ye hide?” said she, as she came forward. “Why, we are very close, surely! What is't ye hatch, my lord?”'
 
“Mis—mischief, my love?” He smiled propitiatingly—hating her more than ever in that moment. He had stuffed the letter into an inner pocket of his coat, and but that she had another matter to concern her at the moment she would not have allowed the question she had asked to be so put aside. But this other matter upon her mind touched her very closely.
 
“Devil take it, whatever it may be! Rotherby is here.”
 
“Rotherby?” His changed; from conciliating it was of a sudden transformed to indignant. “What makes he here?” he demanded. “Did I not forbid him my house?”
 
“I brought him,” she answered pregnantly.
 
But for once he was not to be put down. “Then you may take him hence again,” said he. “I'll not have him under my roof—under the same roof with that poor child he used so . I'll not suffer it!”
 
The cannot have looked more coldly wicked than her ladyship just then. “Have a care, my lord!” she muttered threateningly. “Oh, have a care, I do you. I am not so to be crossed!”
 
“Nor am I, ma'am,” h............