“Monday next! Still five days before us. That’s more time than we want. Patrick!” cried the duke, opening the door of the chapel, “Patrick!” His confidential valet appeared.
“My jeweler and my secretary.”
The valet went out with a mute promptitude which showed him accustomed to obey blindly and without reply.
But although the jeweler had been mentioned first, it was the secretary who first made his appearance. This was simply because he lived in the hotel. He found Buckingham seated at a table in his bedchamber, writing orders with his own hand.
“ Mr. Jackson,” said he, “go instantly to the Lord Chancellor, and tell him that I charge him with the execution of these orders. I wish them to be promulgated immediately.”
“But, my Lord, if the Lord Chancellor interrogates me upon the motives which may have led your Grace to adopt such an extraordinary measure, what shall I reply?”
“That such is my pleasure, and that I answer for my will to no man.”
“Will that be the answer,” replied the secretary, smiling, “which he must transmit to His Majesty if, by chance, His Majesty should have the curiosity to know why no vessel is to leave any of the ports of Great Britain?”
“You are right, Mr. Jackson,” replied Buckingham. “He will say, in that case, to the king that I am determined on war, and that this measure is my first act of hostility against France.”
The secretary bowed and retired.