Tom had perhaps sat still waiting for half an hour before the door opened to admit Lord Claud, who came in with a dark look upon his face, and threw down his hat and gloves upon the table with a smothered oath.

Then he saw Tom, and the cloud lightened, although it did not disappear.  He shook the young man warmly by the hand.

“Tom, you are come in a good hour, and an evil one!  I was just wishing I had you to stand by me.  What think you is the reply of those to whom I have proffered my claim on our behalf?  They will have nothing of it.  They will scarce give me a hearing.  I may go to the Duke of Marlborough with my tale, they tell me in some scorn, as though incredulous of my words, but they will have nought to do with it.  And will not even make an advance, whilst they know that to reach the Duke one must run many a peril and risk much money.  It is a shameful trick!  I know they would not have dared treat all men so, but they think they may put their despite upon me!”

He ground his teeth, and then broke out into strange wild talk which Tom did not understand, though it inspired him with a sense of great anger against those in high places.

Moreover, he was not a little disturbed on his own account by the failure of Lord Claud.  How should he pay his debts?  How should he live himself?  Had he not risked his life for the sake of his country?  Had he not suffered scourging and sickness on her behalf?  It took very little of Lord Claud’s fire to kindle an answering flame in his own heart.  His anger was always readily stirred, and his appreciation of his own merit caused him to feel the more hot and aggrieved.

“Tom,” said Lord Claud suddenly, “there is one other way.  If you have a clear head, a strong arm, and a stout heart, there is yet a hope that we may gain our ends.”

Tom looked up eagerly.  He saw something in Lord Claud’s face which seemed to him strange, and which inspired him with a sense of keen, quick curiosity and excitement.  He felt as though he were on the verge of some new discovery.  His breath came thick and fast, but it was with eagerness, not fear.  He had been so worked upon and played upon by a master hand, that the thought of fear found no place within his breast.  What was this other way of which his master spoke?

“The gold is ours, Tom.  We have won it with the best that is in us—­with our heart’s blood, as men say.  It is ours.  We have the right to it.  If they withhold it in injustice, have we not the right to lay hands on it ourselves?”

“Ay, verily!” answered Tom in a whisper, his eyes fixed upon the burning eyes of Lord Claud, which seemed to fascinate and hold him as the snake does the bird.

Then Lord Claud approached and laid a hand upon Tom’s shoulder, and standing over him, talked long and earnestly in a low, quiet voice, which nevertheless sounded trumpet-like in his ears.

Tom sat perfectly still, gazing at him and uttering no word, but within his heart the fire seemed to glow and kindle; and when Lord Claud paused and searched his face with his keen glance, he saw no faltering there.