Mr.Battiscomb was plainly a man who loved his ease, since on such a day he had travelled to Lyme in a coach.
The lawyer bent low to kiss the Duke's hand, and scarce was that formal homage paid than questions poured upon him from Grey, from Fletcher, and from Ferguson.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," the Duke entreated them, smiling; and remembering their manners they fell silent.
As Wilding afterwards told Trenchard, they reminded him of a parcel of saucy lacqueys who take liberties with an upstart master for whom they are wanting in respect.
"I am glad to see you, Battiscomb," said Monmouth, when quiet was restored, "and I trust I behold in you a bearer of good tidings." The lawyer's full face was usually pale; to-night it was, in addition, solemn, and the smile that haunted his lips was a courtesy smile that expressed neither mirth nor satisfaction.

He cleared his throat, as if nervous.

He avoided the Duke's question as to the quality of the news he brought by answering that he had made all haste to come to Lyme upon hearing of His Grace's landing.

He was surprised, he said; as well he might be, for the arrangement was that having done his work he was to return to Holland and report to Monmouth upon the feeling of the gentry.
"But your news, Battiscomb," the Duke insisted.

"Aye," put in Grey; "in Heaven's name, let us hear that." Again there was the little nervous cough from Battiscomb.