Of the Man from Cornwall
I had some pity for the fellow, for he was by no means white-livered, and drawing near, gave him a friendly sort of glance. He looked back at me startled, and with a sudden light in his eyes, and appeared to consider very deeply. Then, keeping a wary gaze upon his guards, edged off towards me as near as he dared. There was a commotion of chatter under the elm, and this proceeding went unnoticed. But it was something of a surprise to me, who at the moment had no guess of what the fellow wanted. But when he was come close enough, he spoke very hurriedly and in a low voice.
“Sir,” says he, “are you a true man? and are you, in truth, for Monmouth?”
“To the first, yes,” said I promptly, “and as to the second, why, after that, ’twill need no answer.”
He made, as though to search me right through with his squint. “I must e’en trust you,” he whispered. “See here, I am taken upon a journey of vast moment. But that’s no matter for myself, if it were not for what I carry. I have about me papers that must
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