Had we waited until next year, we had found the usurper's throne tottering under him, and, on our landing, it would have toppled o'er of itself." "I have said already that we'll overset it with our hands," Grey answered.
"How many hands have you ?" asked a new voice, a crisp, discordant voice, much steeped in mockery.

It was Nick Trenchard's.
"Have we another here of Mr.Wilding's mind ?" cried Grey, staring at him.
"I am seldom of any other," answered Trenchard.

"We shall no' want for hands," Ferguson assured him.

"Had ye arrived earlier ye might have seen how readily men enlisted." He had risen and approached the window as he spoke; he pulled it open, to let in the full volume of sound that rose from the street below.
"A Monmouth! A Monmouth!" voices shouted.
Ferguson struck a theatrical posture, one long, lean arm stretched outward from the shoulder.
"Ye hear them, sirs," he cried, and there was a gleam of triumph in his eye.

"That is answer enough to those who want for faith, to the feckless ones that think the Lord will abandon those that have set out to serve Him," and his glance comprehended Fletcher, Trenchard, and Wilding.
The Duke stirred in his chair, stretched a hand for the bottle and filled a glass.