That the villain expected nothing so little as to see the man he was
preparing to ruin, I can well believe; and equally that the ordeal,
sudden and unforeseen, tried even his iron composure. I have heard
that after glancing once at the Duke he averted his eyes; and
thenceforth looked and addressed himself entirely to the end of the
table where the King stood. But, this apart, it could not be denied
that he played his part to a marvel. Known to more than one as a
ruffling blade about town, who had grown sober but not less dangerous
with age and the change of times, he had still saved some rags and
tatters of a gentleman's reputation; and he dressed himself
accordingly, insomuch that, as he stood beside Sir John, his stern set
face, and steadfast bearing, made an impression not unfavourable at
the set out.
Nor when bidden by the King to speak and say what he knew, did he fall
below the expectations which his appearance had created, though this
was probably due in some measure to my lord's self-control, who
neither by word nor sign betrayed the astonishment he felt, when a man
to whom for years past he had only spoken casually, and once in six
months as it were, proceeded to recount with the utmost fullness and
particularity every detail of the journey, which, as he said, they two
had taken together to Ashford. At what time they started, where they
lay, by what road they travelled--at all Smith was pat. Nor did he
stop there; but went on to relate with the same ease and exactness the
heads of talk that had passed between Sir John and his companion at
the inn.
Nor was it possible that a story so told, with minutiae, with date, and
place, and circumstances, should fall on ears totally deaf. The men
who listened were statesmen, versed in deceptions and acquainted with
affairs--men who knew Gates and had heard Dangerfield; yet, as they
listened, they shut their eyes and reopened them, to assure themselves
that this was not a dream! Before his appearance, even Lord Portland,
whose distrust of English loyalty was notorious, had been inclined to
ridicule Sir John's story as a desperate card played for life; and
this, even in teeth of my lord's disorder, so incredible did it appear
that one of the King's principal Ministers should stoop to a thing so
foolish. Now, it was a sign pregnant of meaning that no one looked at
his neighbour, but all gazed either at the witness or at the table
before them. And some who knew my lord best, and had the most
affection for him, felt the air heavy, and the stillness of the room
oppressive.
Suddenly the current of the story was broken by the King's harsh
accent, "What was the date?" he asked, "on which you reached Ashford?"
"The 10th of June, sir."
"Where was the Duke on that day?" William continued; and he turned to
the Lord Steward. His tone and question, implying the most perfect
contempt for the tale to which he was listening, to an extent broke
the spell; and had the reply been satisfactory all would have been
over. But the Duke of Devonshire, turning to my lord for the answer,
got only that he lay those two nights at his mother's, in the suburbs;
and thereon a blank look fell on more than one face. The King, indeed,
sniffed and muttered, "Then twenty witnesses can confute this!" as if
the answer satisfied, and was all he had expected; but that others
were at gaze, and in doubt, was as noticeable, as that those who
looked most solemn and thoughtful, were the three who had themselves
stood in danger that day.
At a nod from the King, Smith resumed his tale; but in a moment he was
pulled up short by Lord Dorset, who requested His Majesty's leave to
put a question. Having got permission, "How do you say that the
Duke--came to take _you_ with him?" the Marquis asked sharply.
"To take me, my lord?"
"Yes."
"Must I answer that question?"
"Yes," said Lord Dorset, with grave dignity.
"Well, simply because I had been the medium of communication between
his Grace and Sir John," Smith answered, dryly. "Even as on former
occasions I had acted as agent between his Grace and Lord Middleton."
My lord started violently and half rose.
Then, as he fell back into his seat, "That, sir, is the first word of
truth this person has spoken," he said, with dignity. "It is a fact
that in the year '92 he twice brought me a note from Lord Middleton
and arranged a meeting between us."
"Precisely," Smith answered with effrontery, "as I arranged this
meeting."
On that for the first time my lord's self-control abandoned him. He
started to his feet. "You lie!" he cried, vehemently. "You lie in your
teeth, you scoundrel! Sir--pardon me, but this is--this is too much! I
cannot sit by and hear it!"
By a gesture not lacking in kindness, the King bade him resume his
seat. Then, "_Peste!_" he said, taking snuff with a droll expression
of chagrin. "Will anyone else ask a question. My Lord Dorset has not
been fortunate. As the _Advocatus Diaboli_, perhaps, he may one day
shine."
"If your Majesty pleases," Lord Marlborough said, "I will ask one. But
I will put it to Sir John, and he can answer it or not as he likes.
How did you know. Sir John, that it was the Duke of Shrewsbury who met
you at Ashford, and conferred with you there?"
"I knew the Duke," Sir John answered clearly. "I had seen him often,
and spoken with him occasionally."
"How often had you spoken to him before this meeting?"
"Possibly on a dozen occasions."
"You had not had any long conversation with him?"
"No; but I could not be mistaken. I know him," Sir John added, with a
flash of bitter meaning, "as well as I know you, Lord Marlborough!"
"He gave his title?"
"No, he did not," Sir John answered. "He gave the name of Colonel
Talbot."
Someone at the table--it was Lord Portland--drew his breath sharply
through his teeth; nor could the impression made by a statement that
at first blush seemed harmless, and even favourable to the Duke, be
ignored or mistaken. Three out of four who sat there were aware that
my lord had used that name in his wild and boyish days, when he would
be _incognito_; and, moreover, the use of even that flimsy disguise
cast a sort of decent probability over a story, which at its barest
seemed credible. For the first time the balance of credit and
probability swung against my lord; a fact subtly indicated by the
silence which followed the statement and lasted a brief while; no one
at the table speaking or volunteering a farther question. For the time
Matthew Smith was forgotten--or the gleam of insolent triumph in his
eye might have said somewhat. For the time Sir John took a lower seat.
Men's minds were busy with the Duke, and the Duke only; busy with what
the result would be to him, and to the party, were this proved; while
most, perceiving dully and by instinct that they touched upon a great
tragedy, shrank from the _denouement_.
At last, in the silence, the Duke rose; and swaying blindly on his
feet, caught at the table to steady himself. For two nights he had not
slept.
"Duke," said the King suddenly, "you had better speak sitting."
The words were meant in kindness, but they indicated a subtle change
of attitude--they indicated that even the King now felt the need of
explanation and a defence; and my lord, seeing this, and acknowledging
the invitation to be seated only by a slight reverence, continued to
stand, though the effort made his weakness evident. Yet when he had
cleared his throat and spoke, his voice had the old ring of
authority--with a touch of pathos added, as of a dying King from whose
hand the sceptre was passing.
"Sir," he said, "the sins of Colonel Talbot were not few. But this, to
which this fellow speaks, is not of the number. Nor have you, or my
lords, to do with them. Doubtless, with my fellows, I shall have to
give an account of them one day. But as to the present, and the Duke
of Shrewsbury--with whom alone you have to deal--I will make a plain
tale. This man has said that in '93 he was a go-between, for me and
Lord Middleton. It is true; as you, sir, know, and my lords if they
know it not already, must now know, to my shame. For the fact, Lord
Middleton and I were relations, we met more than once at that time, we
supped together before he went to France. I promised on my part to
take care of his interests here, he in return offered to do me good
offices there. As to the latter I told him I had offended too deeply
to be forgiven; yet tacitly I left him to make my peace with the late
King if he could. It was a folly and a poltroonery," the Duke
continued, holding out his hands with a pathetic gesture. "It was, my
lords, to take a lower place than the meanest Nonjuror who honourably
gives up his cure. I see that, my lords; and have known it, and it has
weighed on me for years. And now I pay for it. But for this"--and with
the word my lord's voice grew full and round and he stood erect, one
hand among the lace of his steinkirk tie and his eyes turned
steadfastly on his accuser--"for this which that man, presuming on an
old fault and using his knowledge of it, would foist on me, I know
nothing of it! I know nothing of it. It is some base and damnable
practice. At this moment and here I cannot refute it; but at the
proper time and in another place I shall refute it. And now and here I
say that as to it, I am not guilty--on my honour!"
As the last word rang through the room he sat down, looking round him
with a kind of vague defiance. There was a silence, broken presently
by the Lord Steward, who rose, his voice and manner betraying no
little emotion. "His Grace is right, sir, I think," he said. "I
believe with him that this is some evil practice; but it is plain that
it has gone so far that it cannot stop here. I would suggest therefore
that if your Majesty sees fit----"
A knock at the door interrupted him, and he turned that way
impatiently, and paused. The King, too, glanced round with a gesture
of annoyance. "See what it is," he said.
Sir William Trumball rose and went; and after a brief conference,
during which the lords at the table continued to cast impatient
glances towards the door, he returned. "If it please you, sir," he
said, "a witness desires to be heard." And with that his face
expressed so much surprise that the King stared at him in wonder.
"A witness?" said the King, and pished and fidgeted in his chair.
Then, "This is not a Court of Justice," he continued, peevishly. "We
shall have all the world here presently. But--well, let him in."
Sir William obeyed, and went and returned under the eyes of the
Council; nor will the reader who has perused with attention the
earlier part of this history be greatly surprised to hear that when he
returned, I, Richard Price, was with him.
I am not going to dwell on the misery through which I had gone in
anticipation of that appearance; the fears which I had been forced to
combat, or the night watches, through which I had lain, sweating and
awake. Suffice it that I stood there at last, seeing in a kind of maze
the sober lights and dark rich colours of the room, and the faces at
the table all turned towards me; and stood there, not in the humble
guise befitting my station, but in velvet and ruffles, sword and
peruke, the very double, as the mirror before which I had dressed had
assured me, of my noble patron. This, at Mr. Vernon's suggestion and
by his contrivance.
[Illustration: ... I STOOD THERE AT LAST ... THE FACES AT THE TABLE
ALL TURNED TOWARDS ME....]
While I had lived in my lord's house, and moved to and fro soberly
garbed, in a big wig or my own hair, the likeness had been no more
than ground for a nudge and a joke among the servants. Now, dressed
once more, as Smith had dressed me, in a suit of the Duke's clothes,
and one of his perukes, and trimmed and combed by one who knew him,
the resemblance I presented was so remarkable that none of the lords
at the table could be blind to it. One or two, in sheer wonder,
exclaimed on it; while Sir John, who, poor gentleman, was more
concerned than any, fairly gasped with dismay.
It was left to the Duke of Devonshire to break the spell. "What is
this? Who is this?" he said, in the utmost astonishment. "What does it
mean?"
The King, who had noted on an occasion that very likeness, which all
now saw, and was the first to read the riddle, laughed dryly. "Two
very common things, my lord," he said, "a rogue and a fool. Speak,
man," he continued, addressing me. "You were in the Duke's household
awhile ago? _n'est-ce pas ca?_ I saw you here?"
"Yes, your Majesty," I said, hardly keeping my fears within bounds.
"And you have been playing his part, I suppose? Eh? At--how do you
call the place--Ashford?"
"Yes, your Majesty--under compulsion," I said, trembling.
"Ay! Compulsion of that good gentleman at the foot of the table, I
suppose?"
The words of assent were on my lips, when a cry, and an exceeding
bitter cry, stayed their utterance. It came from Sir John. Dumbfounded
for a time, between astonishment and suspicion, between wonder what
this travesty was and wonder why it was assumed, he had at length
discerned its full scope and meaning, and where it touched him. With a
cry of rage he threw up his hands in protest against the fraud; then
in a flash he turned on the villain by his side. "You d----d
scoundrel!" he cried. "You have destroyed me! You have murdered me!"
Before he could be held off, his fingers were in Smith's neckcloth,
and clutching his throat; and so staunch was his hold that Admiral
Russell and Sir William Trumball had to rise and drag him away by
force. "Easy, easy, Sir John," said the Admiral with rough sympathy.
"Be satisfied. He will get his deserts. Please God, if I had him on my
ship an hour his back should be worse than Oates's ever was!"
Sir John's rage and disappointment were painful to witness, and trying
even to men of the world. But what shall I say of the fury of the man
at bay, who denounced and convicted in his moment of triumph saw,
white-faced, his long-spun web swept easily aside? Doubtless he knew,
as soon as he saw me, that the game was lost, and could have slain me
with a look. And most men would without more ado have been on their
knees. But he possessed, God knows, a courage as rare and perfect as
the cause in which he displayed it was vile and abominable; and in a
twinkling he recovered himself, and was Matthew Smith once more. While
the room rang with congratulations, questions, answers and
exclamations, and I had much ado to answer one half of the noble lords
who would examine me, his voice, raised and strident, was heard above
the tumult.
"Your Majesty is easily deceived!" he cried, his very tone flouting
the presence in which he stood; yet partly out of curiosity, partly in
sheer astonishment at his audacity, they turned to listen. "Do you
think it is for nothing his Grace keeps a double in his house? Or that
it boots much whether he or his Secretary went to meet Sir John? But
enough! I have here! here," he continued, tapping his breast and
throwing back his head, "that, that shall out-face him; be he never so
clever! Does his double write his hand too? Read that, sir. Read that,
my lords, and say what you think of your Whig leader!"
And with a reckless gesture, he flung a letter on the table. But the
action and words were so lacking in respect for royal chambers that
for a moment no one took it up, the English lords who sat within reach
disdaining to touch it. Then Lord Portland made a long arm, and taking
the paper with Dutch phlegm and deliberation opened it.
"Have I your Majesty's leave?" he said; and the King nodding
peevishly, "This is not his Grace's handwriting," the Dutch lord
continued, pursing up his lips, and looking dubiously at the script
before him.
"No, but it is his signature!" Smith retorted, fiercely. And so set
was he on this last card he was playing, that his eyes started from
his head, and the veins rose thick on his hands where they clutched
the table before him. "It is his hand at foot. That I swear!"
"Truly, my man, I think it is," Lord Portland answered, coolly. "Shall
I read the letter, sir?"
"What is it?" asked the King, with irritation.
"It appears to be a letter to the Duke of Berwick, at the late Bishop
of Chester's house in Hogsden Gardens, bidding him look to himself, as
his lodging was known," Lord Portland answered, leisurely running his
eye down the lines as he spoke.
It was wonderful to see what a sudden gravity fell on the faces at the
table. This touched some home. This was a hundred times more likely as
a charge than that which had fallen through. Could it be that after
all the man had his Grace on the hip? Lord Marlborough showed his
emotion by a face more than commonly serene; Admiral Russell by a
sudden flush; Godolphin by the attention he paid to the table before
him. Nor was Smith behindhand in noting the effect produced. For an
instant he towered high, his stern face gleaming with malevolent
triumph. He thought that the tables were turned.
Then, "In whose hand is the body of the paper?" the King asked.
"Your Majesty's," Lord Portland answered, with a grim chuckle, and
after a pause long enough to accentuate the answer.
"I thought so," said the King. "It was the Friday the plot was
discovered. I remember it. I am afraid that if you impeach the Duke,
you must impeach me with him."
At that there was a great roar of laughter, which had not worn itself
out before one and another began to press their congratulations on the
Duke. He for his part sat as if stunned; answering with a forced smile
where it was necessary, more often keeping silence. He had escaped the
pit digged for him, and the net so skilfully laid. But his face
betrayed no triumph.
Matthew Smith, on the other hand, brought up short by that answer,
could not believe it. He stood awhile, like a man in a fit; then, the
sweat standing on his brow, he cried that they were all leagued
against him; that it was a plot; that it was not His Majesty's hand!
and so on, and so on; with oaths and curses, and other things very
unfit for His Majesty's ears, or the place in which he stood.
Under these circumstances, for a minute no one knew what to do, each
looking at his neighbour, until the Lord Steward, rising from his
chair, cried in a voice of thunder, "Take that man away, Mr.
Secretary, this is your business! Out with him, sir!" On which Sir
William called in the messengers, and they laid hands on him. By that
time, however, he had recovered the will and grim composure which were
the man's best characteristics; and with a last malign and despairing
look at my lord, he suffered them to lead him out.