THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
prepared to strike a sturdy blow or two for monsieur, who was going into the camp of his enemies. The Fleece Tavern had lately gained a bad name by reason of the many brawls and homicides that had occurred within its walls. The place was not inaptly named, for its master, Papworth, took money when and how he might, and bore the name of one who would not stop at a sinister deed if it would avail him to achieve his end. But in spite of its disrepute among the more careful of its gamesters at the court, the Fleece was still frequented by a larger following than any other gaming-house in London. There was more money to be seen there. Most of its rooms were filled at all hours with a motley crowd of men of the town, noblemen, and soldiers of fortune, who would play at dice, basset, and quinze for days and nights at a time, dropping out only when the lack of food and sleep made it necessary.
Cornbury strode along, muttering in his cloak.
“Why go on this dd fool’s errand?” he said, at last. “Why will ye not take ship com-
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