Rumbald, when he had seen me shut the door behind me, went across to the table and put down his whip upon it.

“Sit down, sir,” he said.  “Here is my little stronghold.”

He said it with a grim kind of geniality, at which I did not know whether to be encouraged or not:  I did as he told me, and looked about me with as easy an air as I could muster.

“A little stronghold indeed,” I said.

He paid no attention.

“Now, sir,” he said, “we have not very much time.  Supper will be up in half in hour; we had best have our talk first, and then you may send for your servant.  Old Alick will find him out.”

“With all my heart,” I said, wondering that he made so much of my servant.

He sat down suddenly, and looked at me very heavily and penetratingly.

“Sir,” he said, “you are going to hear the truth at last, I said we had not much time.  Well; we have not.”

“Then let me have the truth quickly,” I said.

He took his eyes from my face.  I was glad of that; as I did not greatly like his regard.  What, thought I, if I be alone with a madman?

“Well, sir,” he said, “we are driven desperate, as you may have guessed.  I say, we; for you have identified yourself with our cause a hundred times over.  My Lord Shaftesbury is gone; my Lord Essex is hanging back.  Well; but those are not all.  We have other men besides those that have been urged on and urged on, and now cannot be restrained.  I have tried to restrain them myself”—­(here he gulped in his throat:  lying was not very easy to this man, I think)—­“and I have failed.  Well, sir, I must trust you more than I have ever trusted you before.”

Again he stopped.

Then all came out with a rush.

“Not half a mile from here,” said he, “along the Newmarket road there be twenty men, with blunderbusses and other arms, waiting for His Majesty and the Duke, who will come to-morrow.”

“But how do you know?” cried I—­all bewildered for the instant.

His head shook with passion.

“Listen,” said he.  “We have had certain information that they come this way—­Why, do you think we have not—­” (again he broke off; but I knew well enough what he would have said!) “I tell you we know it.  The King is not lying at Royston, to-night.  He comes by this road to-morrow.  Now then, sir—­what do you say to that?”

My mind was still all in a whirl.  I had looked for sudden danger, but not so sudden as this.  Half a dozen questions flashed before me.  I put the first into words: 

“Why have you told me?” I cried.

His face contracted suddenly. (It was growing very dark by now, and we had no candles.  The muscles of his face stood out like cords.)

“Not so loud!” said he; and then:  “Well, are you not one of us?  You are pledged very deeply, sir; I tell you.”