From Speculation: Undercurrents of Treachery:
“”You!” His eyes sparked with hatred, his voice stronger than his appearance suggested. “My brother can’t even do the courtesy of visiting me himself, instead he sends his errand boys?”
“Lord Admiral,” Dee began, “I see you remember me – as I do you. I don’t think we were ever formally introduced. My name is Dee. John Dee. I’m here on the Lord Protector’s business – as you rightly guess. This is my associate, Nicholas Whitely. Behind us you see Captain Mercer of the King’s Guard – whom I think you also know.”
Seymour’s gaze sharpened at Dee’s introduction. “Ah, yes. The Welsh Wizard of Cambridge. I remember you, Master Dee. You divined the secrets of my plan to rescue the King from his servitude to my brother.”
Internally, Dee bristled at Seymour’s characterisation of the past events, but he remembered an ancient eastern proverb he’d read: the secret to happiness is not to argue with fools.
He inclined his head slightly, not bothering to correct this man that he knew to be duplicitous and deceiving. Instead he simply replied, “We come on a matter of state importance.”
Seymour gestured toward the small table and chairs in the centre of the room. “Then, by all means, let us discuss this matter of such import that it brings the Protector’s lackeys to my humble abode.” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.
They seated themselves around the table, Mercer remaining by the door. Seymour leaned forward, resting his elbows on the scarred wooden surface.
“Well?” he prompted. “I’m all aflutter.”
Dee studied the man carefully. “I understand you have information regarding a hoard of Spanish gold – a significant quantity that could be of great value to the crown.”
Something flickered in Seymour’s eyes – satisfaction, perhaps. “Ah, so my letter finally reached the right eyes. I was beginning to think my brother had consigned it to the fire without reading it.”
“The Lord Protector takes all matters concerning the realm’s finances very seriously,” Dee replied pompously. “Particularly in these troubled times.”
Seymour’s laugh was harsh. “Yes, I imagine he does, considering the mess he’s made of the coinage. Tell me, Master Dee, have you seen what passes for silver shillings these days? More copper than a common pot.””