"
The next minute Tom entered the very room where he and Lord Claud
had slept the previous night; but it was now tenanted by a new
occupant--a dark-skinned man of huge frame and malignant
aspect--who regarded Tom from beneath the penthouse of his frowning
brows, and plainly remembered him as well as he was himself
remembered.
"So we meet again, my young buck of the forest! You seem to serve a
master who takes pleasure in bringing you into peril and doubtful
adventure! So you are the bearer of despatches to the Duke of
Savoy? I fear, my good friend, Victor Amadeus will be disappointed
of his news for once. And I say in good sooth, that if his grace of
Marlborough chooses to intrust the matters of the secret service to
unfledged lads, he deserves to find himself outwitted."
Tom compressed his lips to hide the smile that might have told too
much. He preserved a stolid appearance, and remained mute.
Sir James gave a quick order in French, and at once some of the
cords about Tom's person were cut, and the packet sewed up in his
coat was duly brought forth. As it was handed to Sir James and he
saw the signet of the Duke, a sardonic smile played over his
features, and Tom's eyes gleamed in their sockets.
The dark-browed man eagerly undid the packet, and drew forth the
parchment sheet.
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