He barred the way.
"But I'm in the service of his Grace the Duke of Monmouth," I expostulated.
"If you were in the service of the devil himself you couldn't pass here without the King's order," retorted the fellow.
"Won't his head serve as well as his order ?" I asked, slipping a crown into his hand.

"Come, I've a message from his Grace for the French gentleman.

Yes, it's private.

Deuce take it, do fathers always know of their sons' doings ?" "No, nor sons all their father's sometimes," he chuckled.

"Along with you quick, and run if you hear me whistle; it will mean my officer is coming." I was alone in the sacred space with M.de Perrencourt.