Lawrence Bohun.
My lord and I bowed to each other profoundly. Rolfe with my
sword and Master Pory with my lord's stepped aside to measure the
blades. Dr. Bohun, muttering something about the feverishness of
the early air, wrapped his cloak about him, and huddled in among
the roots of a gigantic cedar. I stood with my back to the church,
and my face to the red water between us and the illimitable forest;
my lord opposite me, six feet away. He was dressed again
splendidly in black and scarlet, colors he much affected, and, with
the dark beauty of his face and the arrogant grace with which he
stood there waiting for his sword, made a picture worth looking
upon.
Rolfe and the Secretary came back to us. "If you kill him, Ralph,"
said the former in a low voice, as he took my doublet from me,
"you are to put yourself in my hands and do as you are bid."
"Which means that you will try to smuggle me north to the Dutch.
Thanks, friend, but I'll see the play out here."
"You were ever obstinate, self-willed, reckless - and the man most
to my heart," he continued. " Have your way, in God's name, but I
wish not to see what will come of it! All's ready, Master
Secretary."
Very slowly that worthy stooped down and examined the ground,
narrowly and quite at his leisure. "I like it not, Master Rolfe," he
declared at length.
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