, or calling out the militia — he determined to send a couple of spies to Dilston to ascertain the truth of the report.
One of these emissaries was now concealed, as we have stated, among the trees overhanging the glen. Without betraying himself, he got sufficiently near the party to hear their discourse, and soon learnt enough to convince him that the plainly attired, but distinguished-looking young man, whom he beheld, and to whom so much attention was paid by Charles Radclyffe and the rest, was no other than the Chevalier de Saint George.
As soon as he had clearly ascertained this point, he stole away, mounted his horse, which he had left in a thicket near the moor, and galloped off to convey the important information to Sir William Lorraine.
On reaching Bywell Park, he found the high sheriff anxiously expecting him, and called out:
“I have seen the Pretender, Sir William — seen him with my own eyes.”
“You are certain of it, Jesmond?”
“I saw him in the glen by the side of the Devil’s Water. He had a large party with him, and I heard several of ’em address him as ‘your majesty.’”
“Enough,” cried the high sheriff. “You have done your work well, Jesmond. But where have you left Hedgeley?”
“I’ve seen nothing of him since we got to Dilston, Sir William. He went to the castle, and I went to the grounds. I took the right course it appears, for I soon found the person I was looking for, and without asking any questions, or letting myself be seen.”
“I hope Hedgeley has not been seized as a spy,” said the high sheriff.
“If he has, he’ll tell nothing, Sir William. Don’t fear him. If you want to take the place by surprise to-morrow, you can do it. His lordship has taken no precautions. With half a dozen mounted men I could have taken the Pretender prisoner myself, and have carried him off.”
“I wish you had done so, Jesmond,” laughed the high sheriff. “It would have saved me the trouble of getting a party of men together. I must set about the task without delay. You think all will be safe at Dilston till to-morrow?”
“Not a doubt about it, Sir William. Lord Derwentwater’s guests seem to be amusing themselves. I think — from what I overheard — that his lordship has a grand banquet to-day. Certainly, some festivities are taking place at the castle.”
“It would be a pity to disturb them,” said the high sheriff. “To-morrow I will present myself at the castle with sufficient force to render all resistance useless.”
Hedgeley, the emissary to Dilston, had not fared so well as his comrade. Stopped at the gate, and unable to explain his business entirely to the porter’s satisfaction, he was locked up in a strong room for the night. This was done by Colonel Oxburgh’s order, who chanced to be in the court at the time, and interrogated him. Except detention, the spy had nothing to complain of, for he had plenty to eat and drink.
Jesmond had correctly informed the high sheriff, when he told him that a grand dinner would be given that day at the castle. A vast deal of handsome plate was displayed at the banquet, which was far more agreeable to the noble host than the dinner of the previous day, since it was graced by the presence of his affianced bride, who now sat next to him, and looked more charming than ever, being beautifully dressed, and in high spirits. The prince was likewise in a very lively mood, and contributed to the general gaiety at the upper end of the table.
In the evening there was music in the grand saloon, which was brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. Anna produced a great effect, and her magnificent voice enraptured the prince as much as it had enraptured Lord Derwentwater when he first heard it.
Very different in style, but equally effective in their way, were some simple ditties sung with great taste and feeling by Dorothy Forster.
As we have intimated, the prince was in a very gay humour and seemed to take no thought of the morrow — though that morrow had much in store for him. He talked lightly with Anna and Dorothy, laughed and jested with Sir John Webb, Colonel Oxburgh, and Forster, but he talked seriously with no one.
So passed his last night at Dilston Castle.
CHAPTER XV
A General Departure
A BRIGHT day dawned on Dilston.
Fair looked the garden with its lawn and terrace, inviting those within the mansion to stroll forth and enjoy the freshness of the morn. So calm and still was all around that the rippling of the hidden burn could be distinctly heard in the deep glen. Within the park, beyond the old grey bridge that linked it with the grounds, the deer could be seen couched beneath the oaks. The neighbouring woods, the dark moorland in the distance, over which hung a thin mist, the river glistening here and there through the trees — all completed a picture which was seen by more than one of the earl’s guests, and often recalled by them.
The prince was amongst those who brushed the dew from the lawn, and gazed at the charming prospect. He likewise attended matins in the little chapel.
As he was returning from the service with Lord Derwentwater, he met Colonel Oxburgh, and was struck by the grave expression of his countenance.
“Good morrow, colonel,” he said, returning the other’s military salute. “I fear, from your looks, that you have some bad news to give me.”
“What I have to tell your majesty demands instant consideration and decision,” replied Oxburgh. “By some means or other, your arrival has been discovered by Sir William Lorraine, the high sheriff of the county, and yesterday afternoon he sent a spy here to make sure that he had not been misinformed. The fellow was suspected and locked up for the night, but it was only this morning that I forced him by threats to confess his errand. It is certain from what he says that the sheriff will come here with a strong party of men to secure your majesty’s person.”
Lord Derwentwater looked aghast at this startling intelligence, but the prince did not seem much disturbed by it.
“Instant measures must be taken for the defence of the place,” said Lord Derwentwater.
“It cannot be defended, my lord,” rejoined Colonel Oxburgh. “His majesty must not remain here.”
“Do you counsel flight, colonel?” said the prince.
“Not flight — but a retreat, my liege,” replied Oxburgh.
“No need to fly,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I will undertake to conceal his majesty from any search that can be made for him.”
“Better he should seek shelter in some fortified house or castle,” observed Oxburgh.
“But where?” demanded the prince. “Where would you have me go?”
“If your majesty will not remain here, and trust yourself to me, I advise you to go to Bamborough Castle,” said Lord Derwentwater.
“But is Forster to be relied on?” said the prince. “Is he thoroughly loyal?”
“I’ll answer for him with my life,” said the earl.
“And so will I, my liege,” added Oxburgh.
“Then I’ll trust him,” said the prince.
“Shall I acquaint him with your majesty’s determination?” inquired the earl. “No time must be lost.”
“I’ll go to him, myself,” rejoined the prince.
“Ah! here he comes!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh.
As he spoke, Forster was seen descending the steps with Sir John Webb, and immediately obeyed a summons given him by the colonel.
He was as much alarmed as the others when he learnt the prince’s jeopardy, and before his highness signified his intention, offered him an asylum at Bamborough.
It was then decided that the prince’s departure should take place forthwith, and it was likewise arranged that Lord Derwentwater with Colonel Oxburgh and his troop should escort his highness.
Some further arrangements were subsequently made, but these were sufficient in the meantime, and Colonel Oxburgh and Forster hurried off to the stables to give directions about the horses, while the prince and Lord Derwentwater entered the house.
As soon as the prince’s intended departure became known all was bustle and confusion. The n
ews was quickly communicated to the ladies, who very soon came down-stairs, and another consultation was held in the library.
What was to be done? Anna and Dorothy were determined not to be left behind. Since the prince was going to Bamborough, and Lord Derwentwater, and almost everybody else were going with him, they would go too. Both were such perfect equestrians that they could be trusted to keep up with the fugitives, while their spirit was equal to any unforeseen difficulty or danger that might arise. So the proposition was acceded to.
Then came a suggestion from Lady Webb, to the effect that she and Sir John should drive back to Bamborough. This was likewise adopted.
Preparations for a general start were then made at once. Trunks and valises were packed up. Riding-dresses donned, horses brought round, Sir John Webb’s carriage got ready, and in less than half an hour the prince and a large party consisting of Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed, Tom Forster and his fair sister, Colonel Oxburgh and his companions, were speeding down the chestnut avenue, with the intent of shaping their course to Bamborough Castle, which they hoped to reach before night.
Some quarter of an hour later, Sir John Webb’s great lumbering coach took the same route.
Charles Radclyffe was left in charge of Dilston, and empowered to act as he deemed best, in his brother’s absence.
Hedgeley, the spy, was detained for some time after the prince’s departure, and then liberated.
BOOK II. — BAMBOROUGH CASTLE
CHAPTER I
The High Sheriff
ABOUT ten o’clock on the same day, the high sheriff, accompanied by a score of well-mounted yeomen, armed with various weapons, arrived at Dilston Castle. The gate was open, and without saying a word to the porter, he rode into the court, followed by Jesmond and a groom, leaving the yeomen on guard outside.
Charles Radclyffe, who was standing at the entrance of the mansion, came down the steps to meet him, and a formal salutation passed between them.
“You will not be surprised at my visit, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff. “I have come here in the execution of a painful duty, and desire to discharge it as lightly as I can. Be pleased to tell your brother, Lord Derwentwater, that a certain important person, whom I am aware is his guest, must be delivered up to me.”
“In reply to your demand, Sir William,” replied Charles Radclyffe, firmly, “I have to inform you that there are no guests in the castle, and that Lord Derwentwater himself is absent.”
The sheriff looked confounded, and consulted Jesmond by a glance.
The latter shook his head to intimate that the assertion ought not to be credited.
“Excuse me, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff, “I can understand that you consider yourself justified in denying that the Pretender is here. But I have proof to the contrary. This man beheld him yesterday.”
“I saw him in your company, Mr. Radclyffe,” said Jesmond. “I heard you and several others address him as your majesty.”
“What have you to say to this, sir?” said the sheriff.
“I might say that the man is mistaken, but I will not,” replied Charles. “I will content myself with stating that the person he beheld, and whom he fancied was the Chevalier de Saint George, is gone.”
“This will be vexatious, if it should turn out correct,” muttered the sheriff.
“Don’t believe it, Sir William,” cried Jesmond. “Depend upon it, we shall find him.”
“I have given you my positive assurance, which ought to be sufficient, Sir William,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But if you still entertain any doubts, pray search the house — question the servants — take any steps you think proper.”
“I intend to do so, sir,” rejoined the sheriff, dismounting, and giving his horse to the groom.
Jesmond likewise dismounted, and followed him.
On the steps the sheriff encountered Newbiggin, and some others of the servants, who corroborated Charles Radclyffe’s assertions; and in the entrance hall he found Father Norman, with whom he was acquainted, and whom he respectfully saluted.
“Your reverence knows my business,” he remarked. “Will you aid me?”
“You cannot expect me to do so, Sir William,” replied the priest. “But I will tell you frankly, that no one is concealed here.”
“Has the Pretender fled?” demanded the sheriff.
“The Pretender has never been here, Sir William.”
“This is mere equivocation, sir,” cried the sheriff. “I will not be trifled with. I will search the house from top to bottom, but I will find him. Come with me!” he added to Newbiggin.
Attended by the butler, and assisted by Jesmond, he then went up-stairs, and peered into a great many rooms, but soon gave up the fruitless search.
“I told you how it would be, Sir William,” observed the priest, amused by his discomfited air, as he returned to the hall. “This is a large house, and if you were to search every room in it you would find it a tedious business. Once more, I tell you the person you seek is not here.”
“Will you tell me whither he is gone?”
“No; you must find that out for yourself, Sir William. You will act wisely if you abandon the quest altogether.”
“No-no! that must not be,” cried the sheriff.
“Certainly not, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “Leave me to make further investigations. I warrant you I’ll discover something.”
Receiving permission to do as he pleased, Jesmond proceeded to the stables, and in about ten minutes came back to the sheriff, whom he found in the court- yard.
The smile on his countenance betokened success.
“I’ve found it all out, Sir William,” he cried. “You won’t be disappointed. A large party on horseback left this morning — but the Pretender was not one of them.”
“Then he is here, still?”
“No, Sir William; he went away in Sir John Webb’s coach.”
“In a coach! — then we may overtake him!”
“Undoubtedly. The carriage is large and heavy, and doesn’t travel more than three or four miles an hour. We shall catch him before he gets to Morpeth.”
“Is he gone in that direction?”
“He is, Sir William. I told you I’d find out something, and you must own that I’ve managed to put you on the right scent.”
“You have,” cried the sheriff, jumping on his horse. “Follow me, gentlemen! — follow me!” — he called out to the yeomen, who had been waiting all this time outside the gate.
Next minute they were rattling down the avenue, with the sheriff at their head.
We may be sure Jesmond was not left behind.
CHAPTER II
Pursuit
ON arriving at Corbridge, the sheriff found that the carriage had taken the high road to Newcastle, the cross-road by Whittingham and Stamfordham being impracticable, and accordingly he and his troop galloped off in that direction; but when they reached the extensive moor that skirts the town, they discovered that a deviation from the direct course had been made on the left, and that the travellers had crossed, or attempted to cross the moor to Gosforth.
The road chosen was so bad, that it seemed almost certain the carriage would be found buried up to the axle-tree in a bog, and with that confident expectation the pursuers took the same route.
From appearances on the road, it was sufficiently clear that the heavy vehicle had been more than once partially engulfed, and could only have been extricated with difficulty — but it had reached firm ground at last, and had gone on to Gosforth.
About three miles further on the pursuers descried it slowly rumbling on towards Blagdon Park. Cheered by the sight, they accelerated their pace, and shouting loudly as they went on, soon caused the carriage to stop.
Anxious to make the intended arrest without any appearance of violence, the sheriff ordered a halt of his followers, and rode up to the carriage, attended merely by Jesmond.
Lady Webb and the two women-servants inside had been greatly alarmed by th
e shouting of the pursuers and sudden stoppage of the vehicle, and Sir John thrust his head out of the window to see what was the matter.
Just then the sheriff came up, and saluting him formally explained his business. Sir John replied rather angrily, and declared in positive terms that there was no one in the carriage beside himself and Lady Webb and their two women-servants.
As the sheriff expressed a doubt, Sir John called to his man-servant to come down and open the door, and immediately got out.
“Now, Sir William — pray satisfy yourself!” he cried.
“I must trouble Lady Webb to alight — and the two women,” said the sheriff.
The injunction was obeyed by her ladyship, though not without strong expressions of displeasure.
As soon as they had all come forth, Jesmond got into the carriage, and looked under the seats, but found only trunks and boxes.
As he emerged with a crestfallen look, he was jeered by Sir John and her ladyship. The sheriff, too, blamed him for the blunder he had made.
“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.
“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.
“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.
“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome young man.
An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.
“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.
“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn’t recognise him at first in his disguise. But now I’ll swear to him.”
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