"I gave Black Ben rein, and before long was out of both sight and hearing of Bedford Tower."

As may be imagined, I rode straight towards London. Had it been safe I think I should have stayed near Bedford, so that I might in case of need have rendered help to Mistress Constance. But I reflected that I should do more harm than good by staying there, and in spite of passing doubts I felt sure that she was safe. Moreover, London was the place I desired to be in. It would be difficult for any man from Bedford to find me there, and I had plans in my mind which I hoped would forward the schemes which had been formulating there. I also wanted to see my father again, and to know what he had been doing since we parted at Canterbury.

I had not long left Bedford before morning began to dawn, and by the time I had reached the town of Hitchin it was broad daylight. Much as I desired to rest here, both for the sake of Black Ben as well as myself, I rode straight on, barely entering the town, but taking a narrow and somewhat unfrequented road instead. Not a soul did I meet, and this pleased me much, because, in case of pursuers, no one would be able to give information. When I had covered half the distance between Hitchin and St. Albans, I stopped by a wayside inn for an hour, keeping a sharp look-out on the road all the while. By noon I had reached St. Albans, but I did not stay here, pushing on instead to the town of Barnet, where I deemed myself safe from pursuit. Moreover, having once arrived at Barnet, I found the roads so full of travellers, who were on their way to London to join in the revels, as well as others coming from them, that my presence could not call for any comment. Nevertheless, I was very thankful when I reached the Virgin Queen, an inn close by St. Paul's Cross, where I gave my horse in charge of Caleb Bullen, an old-Ptime and faithful servitor of my father's.

I spent two days in London trying to find my father, as well as taking part in the festivities which were held, but although I went everywhere that the public gathered, never once did I catch a glimpse of my father, neither did I meet with any man who had seen aught of him. I concluded therefore that he had again returned home, and had settled down to the old quiet life. Much as I wanted to see him I deemed it wise not to go thither. First, because if any at Bedford had by any means whatsoever become acquainted with my name, they might place watchers there; and second, because I knew that by going home I should put myself outside the possibility of hearing whatever news might be stirring. I therefore counted the crowns which I still possessed, and, finding that I had enough for my needs, I remained at the Virgin Queen, and partook of the good fare which Caleb Bullen provided.

For a week London town was a scene of constant gaiety, for although the great rejoicing took place on the day when the king rode into London, it took the people a full week to settle down to the ordinary course of life. The playhouses which Oliver Cromwell had closed were all open, while seemingly all traces of the old Puritan life which had grown up under the great Protector were swept away in a day. Laws were relaxed, and the old stern system of morals was not only broken, but laughed at as unworthy of a free people.

It was not until the fourth day after I had come back to London that I heard it declared that Master Leslie's daughter had escaped from prison, and that in spite of every endeavour to discover her hiding-place, she had not been found. It was said, moreover, that her escape had been brought around by a friend of Master Leslie's, who had succeeded in putting a sleeping potion in the drink of the gaolers, and had thus succeeded in his plans.

As may be imagined, this news caused me great satisfaction, most because Mistress Constance was still at liberty, but also because no shadow of suspicion rested upon me. The latter conviction was, however, rudely shaken when at the end of a week I was told that two men had been at the Virgin Queen inquiring after me.

"What were they like?" I asked of Caleb Bullen, who I knew was my faithful friend.

"They were gaily attired, Master Roland. They wore swords by their sides, and long feathers in their caps."

"And you took them to be men of quality?"

"Ay, I should judge so," replied Caleb thoughtfully. "They swore much, talked much, laughed much, and drank much wine, so I judged they were of gentle blood. They mentioned great names with much freedom, and seemed to know of all that was going on at Court."

"But what did they say?"

"They asked whether Master Roland Rashcliffe was living at the Virgin Queen; whereupon I answered that you did, and that you were a good customer, seeing you ate your victuals, drank your ale, and paid your count without grumbling. Then they asked how long you had been staying here, and I told them since the day of the coming of the king. Upon that they said they would call again this evening at six by the clock, and would I tell you that they would deem it polite of you not to go out at that hour, as they would come on an affair of importance?"

This, as may be imagined, set me to pondering gravely, but after careful consideration, and asking Caleb Bullen many questions, I came to the conclusion that they could have nought to do with the folks at Bedford. I determined, therefore, that I would be in the inn at the time mentioned, wondering all the time what they wanted of me.

The clock at St. Paul's Cross had scarcely chimed six when I saw two young men, dressed with much richness, and carrying themselves with a jaunty air, enter the hall of the inn.

"Hath Master Rashcliffe yet arrived?" one asked of Caleb Bullen.

"Ay," replied mine host, pointing to me, whereupon with a great show of ceremony they came to me.

"Master Roland Rashcliffe," said the older of the two.

"I am Roland Rashcliffe," I replied, looking at them closely, for I was not yet free from fears that they had heard something of my doings at Bedford.

"We bring you greeting, Master Rashcliffe, and if it would cause you no trouble we would see you alone in a place where we can speak without interruption."

I therefore led the way into a room where such quietness could be found, and then, having bid them sit down near the window, I was able to get a better view of them. They were both young men, not, as I judged, more than thirty years of age, and I was not long in coming to the conclusion that Caleb Bullen had judged rightly when he said they were men of quality. Both were very richly attired in the kind of finery which came into vogue directly the king returned and though, as I judged, both had been drinking much wine, they carried their wine well, and shewed no sign of loss of sense.

"We hear you were at Dover when his Majesty landed Master Rashcliffe, and that you impressed him favourably. It is better to be born lucky than rich, for, by my soul, his Majesty hath had so many hangers on since he entered his faithful London that none of us, save a very few of his chosen ones, can get more than a nod or a wave of his hand."

"I was indeed in Dover," I replied, "and a gay sight it was."

"The king spoke graciously to you, we heard."

"I was fortunate beyond my deserts."

"Ah, say not so, say not so. Corks will swim, and those whom the gods favour will obtain the smile of kings. We are even now here on an errand which, if it means not royal favour, is so near to it that a man can scarcely distinguish it from such."

Again I examined them closely, and tried to guess from whence they came and who sent them.

"Ah, but we have come here like a couple of grooms," the spokesman of the two went on. "But forgive us, Master Rashcliffe. Manners, like everything else, need constant practice, and since these Dissenters and Puritans have ruled the land, there hath been no opportunity of showing courtesy due from one gentleman to another. To such a state hath these rascally psalm-singing knaves brought us. Let me say, then, that the name of my friend here is the Honourable John Burleigh, youngest son of Lord Burleigh, while I am Stanley Carew, son of Sir William Carew, of Cornwall."

I bowed ceremoniously, even as they had done when they told me their names.

Upon this Master Stanley Carew looked around the room as though some one was in hiding; then, upon being assured that we were alone, he went on—

"We have come to you from one of royal blood, Master Rashcliffe, with royal commands."

"From the king?" I asked.

"Nay, not from the king, that is exactly, but doubtless this letter will explain much to you."

I took the letter, and noted that the paper was emblazoned with the royal arms. It contained only these words: "Master Roland Rashcliffe is commanded to appear before us to-night at Whitehall at the hour of eight."

The signature I could not at first make out, but on closer scrutiny I discovered it to be signed by James, Duke of York. On lifting my eyes from the paper, I saw that both my visitors were looking eagerly towards me, as though they would make out what had been written to me, but, knowing so little of them, I folded the missive and put it beneath my doublet.

"Doubtless you have received pleasant news, Master Rashcliffe?" said Master Carew with a meaning smile.

"News from those in high places should always be pleasant," I replied.

"By the saints, no. And truly by the look on your face I judge that joy doth not overcome you, Master Rashcliffe. Well, what then? A man of wit must even use it to his own advantage. Moreover, doubtless the message is of importance, seeing we were charged to deliver it into no hands but your own. Is there aught in the way of information we can give you, Master Rashcliffe?"

Now this set me thinking. It became plain to me that they knew not the contents of the letter; moreover, I judged that they sought to obtain information concerning it, and thereby obtain power which they hoped would be useful.

"No," I replied, "I do not know that there are any questions that I desire to ask."

I saw the two exchange glances as I spoke, but Master Carew went on quite glibly. "Then we shall have naught to do but take back your answer, Master Rashcliffe."

"Were you requested to take back an answer?" I queried.

"For that matter, no, I do not think we were; still, we thought you would doubtless desire to send a fitting reply."

"As I understand it, no reply is needed, Master Carew," I replied. "Nevertheless, I thank you for bringing me the letter, which I will lay deeply to heart."

After this they stayed some time, trying by many means to let drop some hint concerning what they had brought me. But I deemed it best to keep a still tongue, and when they presently left me, looking as I thought not over pleased with the success of their visit, I called to mind that I had said nothing which could in any way advantage them.

Nevertheless, the letter gave me much food for anxious thought. Why should the brother of the king desire to see me? To answer this I cast my mind over my adventures since I had left my father's house, but only one event led me to connect the Duke of York with them. That, as may be remembered, was the speech of Master Rickmore and Master Hamilton on the night when I had been dragged from my horse when riding from Canterbury to London. I called to mind the words of the man Hamilton, who related to the other what he said Duke James had said to him. "By the Holy Virgin get hold of the young rascal. Never let him out of your sight until you have obtained all he hath found, and know all he can tell you."

For a long time I sat thinking of this, and of many other things in relation thereto, and the more I thought the more was I convinced that I ran no little risk in obeying the Duke of York's command. On the other hand, I could see that it would not be wise to refuse. The king's brother was next to the king himself, and if the story of Lucy Walters was false was the next heir to the throne. To refuse his commands, therefore, would be nearly as bad as refusing those of the king himself. It would moreover arouse suspicion, and might possibly lead to many unpleasant results.

But more than all this, I longed much to know what the duke would say to me. I desired to find out the motives which prompted him to send for me. I did not fear danger—thoughtless youth seldom apprehends that—but I did ardently wish to discover what was in Duke James' mind.

The clock of St. Paul's struck the hour of seven. I had not therefore a minute to spare. It was half an hour's walk from St. Paul's Cross to Whitehall, so I went to my bedchamber to bedeck myself in the best finery I possessed, and ere long I was passing Fleet prison, on my way to Whitehall.

CHAPTER XVIII

We had not gone far when we left Whitehall and entered the park which lies behind. Here also were the same scenes of gaiety. Indeed, never had I seen so many gaily-dressed women in my life before. The park was in the summer of its loveliness, flowers bloomed on all sides, the trees were in wellnigh full leaf, the birds sang, while loud laughter, both among men and women, was to be heard continually. My companion paid no heed to any of these things, however. He strode quickly along, stopped at the door of one of the houses, and a minute later I stood behind him in one of the great houses. Without hesitation he led the way upstairs, and without ceremony entered a large room. As far as I could judge it had been but lately fitted up, for the things I saw were new, and shone with much splendour. Nevertheless, it did not look like a residence, but rather appeared to be a place where a man of authority might gather his friends around him. No one was in the room, and although it stood so near to Whitehall the utmost silence reigned, except that I thought that I heard whispering voices in an adjoining compartment.

"Do not dare to oppose him," said the man who accompanied me; "assent to all his commands, agree with all he saith, although your judgement will lead you otherwise. Above all be silent as death afterwards. Remember, he hath no mercy."

"You speak of the Duke of York?"

"I speak of the next king," he replied. "Therefore, do as I bid you, and be wise. Be surprised at nothing you may hear, even if he saith things that should not be heard by such a youth as you."

He had scarcely finished speaking when two men entered the room. The one was the Duke of York; I had seen him ride away in the king's coach by the side of the king when he left Dover. His appearance, as I thought, was changed. I thought then that he was, although of somewhat austere countenance, pleasant to look upon. That night he looked angry and cruel. His face was heavy, and, if I mistook not, besotted, but whether he had been partaking freely of wine I could not tell. His companion's face was hidden, and although I thought I detected something familiar in his gait, I knew not who he was.

"This is the youth?"

"It is, Your Grace."

The duke looked at me sternly and silently, as though he would read my heart, and although I dared to lift my eyes to his but once, I thought his eyes were bloodshot. Having seated himself, he bade me come near to him.

"Master Roland Rashcliffe?" he said.

"Yes, Your Grace," I replied.

"Tell me, boy, is your father an honest man?"

The question was asked abruptly, as though he would take me unawares.

"He fought for your father," I replied.

"So did many a knave, until he thought he would gain by joining the rebels."

At this I was silent.

"Why did he send thee to find out if there was any truth in the lying story that his Majesty married the wench Lucy Walters?"

"To discover the truth," I replied, for it seemed to me at that moment as though there were nought else to say.

At this he laughed, but the laugh was cruel, and never did I hear a man's voice that had less mirth in it.

"Well, what have you found?" he said presently. "You left your home many days ago. You went to Folkestone, from thence you made a midnight journey to a lonely house. Tell me how you fared, and what trophies you possess as a result of your valour."

At this I was silent, for in truth never did words appear more dangerous than at this moment.

"How now, sirrah! You do not speak!"

King's brother though he was, he made me angry, and I resented the tones he used towards me.

"What, you do not answer me? Know you that you do wrong in making me angry? I tell you it would be an easy matter to put another in the already flowing prisons of England, and so I bid you beware. What did you discover at the lonely house, and what did you bring away?"

"You should already know, Your Grace," I replied boldly, for by this time all my fear of him had gone. Perhaps my anger had driven it away. If it had, it were no wonder, for had I been a lackey he could not have spoken with less courtesy, while the thickness of his voice, and his rheumy eyes, made me feel sure that he had been drinking heavily.

"What mean you, young malapert?" he asked.

"I mean that I was attacked by men who used your name when riding to London," I answered; "that they dragged me from my horse, and searched me to the skin. If I had possessed aught they would surely have brought it to you."

At this I was in doubt as to what course he would take. I saw the blood mount to his cheek, and anger gleam from his eyes, while he lifted his hand as if he would strike me. But this was only for a moment. Instead of yielding to anger he burst into a great laugh, as though he had heard a good joke.

"Ha, ha!" he cried, "you discovered that you could do nought without discovery, eh? You found out that the royal arm can strike far, eh? You learnt that you cannot hunt in royal domains without being bitten by the keeper's dogs? Is that not so, my young springald?"

"The king's brother is not the king," I cried, for now I saw that unless I would place myself entirely in his power I must take a bold course.

"What mean you?" he cried.

"I mean that when I have discovered aught that affects the king, I will bear my message to the king," I replied, "but, until then, I will hold my peace as a man should."

"I have a good mind to send you to the dungeons."

"If you did I should soon be a free man again," I replied.

"And how is that?"

"The king would soon hear that his brother threw a youth into prison because that youth knew something that affected the king's honour," I replied. "And the king, on hearing of this, would demand to see him, and he would tell his Majesty many things."

"Tut, tut, youth," he said, still gazing at me curiously. "Do not think because you have answered me pertly that you have answered me wisely, and do not imagine that although a man doth not wear a crown he hath no power. Oh, I see how it is. You were carried away by what you saw when the king came to London. You saw the London Corporation do his Majesty homage at St. George in the Fields, you saw the streets all flaunting with bunting, you beheld the twelve hundred velvet-coated lackeys, the footmen in purple, and buff, and silver, and green, and blue; you heard the trumpets sounding, the people shouting, and the clergy waiting to do homage to their most gracious and Protestant king. I say, you saw all this, while they took no notice of the heir-apparent. But it is not always the man who wears the crown who reigns. Take our brother Louis across the water. He wore the crown while a priest reigned. It was so before him. Louis XIII, the man who was always tired, wore the crown, but Richelieu ruled the land. But wait a little, Mazarin will die, and then a change will come. Let me tell you something, young malapert. It is the man with will and brains who reigns, whether he be the king or the king's brother. Moreover, it is he who is not too much given over to pleasure, and who holds the true faith."

"Have a care, Your Grace, have a care," said the man who had accompanied me hither, for he saw what by this time I was assured of, that the king's brother had partaken of much wine.

"Have a care for whom?" said the duke angrily. "Am I to be bearded by a boy? Look you here, and remember," and his voice was thick as he spoke, "the king's brother can bestow benefits as well as the king, remember that, and the king's brother can reward those who are faithful. Besides, the man who is only the king's brother to-day may be king next year. Never forget. And think of something else. A man need not be anointed by a bishop to alter a country's laws. Hath any law been passed against the Presbyterians or Puritans or Dissenters? What saith the king? 'Justice to all.' Yet even at this time hundreds of Presbyterians and Puritans have been ousted from their pulpits, while Independents and Baptists crowd our gaols. Who hath done this? 'Oh, no man hath done it,' is the reply. It is all because the Episcopalians believe that now Charles Stuart is come back they can e'en send the others apacking. But who shall say they have heard no word from James Stuart?"

"Your Grace! Your Grace!"

"Ay, cannot a man speak his own mind? This boy is not a fool, and will know how to be discreet. And now I have a word more to say. Have you, Master Roland Rashcliffe, discovered aught concerning this supposed marriage contract between the king and Lucy Walters?"

"Yes," I replied, before I was well aware, and for which word I was ready to bite my tongue out.

"You have seen it?" and I noticed that he spoke more clearly, as though my news had sharpened his wits.

"I have seen that which purports to be what you inquire after," I replied.

Never did I see a man change more suddenly. He seemed to throw off the effects of wine in an instant.

"You have seen it? Where?"

At this I was silent, for I felt not like giving away my secret.

"Speak, Roland, I command you."

I started, for it was my father's voice which I had heard, and then I knew that it was he who had entered the room with the duke, and who had hidden his face from me.

"Father!" I cried.

"Ay, it is I, Roland, and it is I who command you to tell his Grace what he desires to know. I have told him nothing because I have seen nothing, but it is my will that you tell him what you have seen."

My father's presence set me wondering greatly. As I have said, I had not seen him since my return to London, and now to discover that he had been in communication with the king's brother staggered me. Rightly or wrongly, I concluded that he could gain no hearing with his Majesty, and so had sought an audience with the duke.

"Remember," said the duke, "this story is lies from end to end. Yet I do not say that some one hath not forged such a contract. Moreover, if such a contract, although it is as valueless as the paper on which it is written, were to pass from hand to hand, it would set gossips' tongues wagging, and perchance unhinge affairs of state. You say you have seen this. Where have you seen it?"

In spite of myself I could not help pausing, and whether the king's brother had fears concerning what I should do with my knowledge, or whether he desired to enlist my friendship, I know not, but before I could speak, he went on—

"Did you read it?"

"Ay, I read it."

"What did it say?"

"It was a marriage contract between his Majesty and the Welsh girl, Lucy Walters."

"You can take your oath to this?"

"I can take my oath that I read such words on a piece of parchment."

"Signed by Charles Stuart?"

"Ay, and by others."

"Their names?"

"Pierre Rousseau and François Abelard."

"You swear this?"

"I swear that I saw such a parchment."

"But where? Tell me where?"

"It was in such a strange place that I cannot describe it. Yet methinks I could find it again."

He seemed so carried away by what I had told him that he started to his feet.

"Find it, Master Roland Rashcliffe, and bring it to me. If you will do this, you may depend on my smile all your life through."

"Obey his Grace, Roland," said my father.

"Stay," said the duke, directly my father had spoken, and I thought suspicion gleamed in his eyes. "Your father informs me that your discovery was made before we landed on English shores. You were at Dover at our coming. What have you been doing with yourself since?"

"If you will ask Caleb Bullen, he will tell you I have been staying at the Virgin Queen, at St. Paul's Cross," I said; then, fearing further questions, I went on, "but the thing you require of me is not easy of accomplishment. Already I have nearly lost my life in the search thereof, and——"

"I have nought to do with that," he interrupted. "Set out without delay and bring this thing to me, and this I will promise. I will see to it that all your father's estates are restored, and I will take it upon myself to assure your future. There is many an Independent fattening upon fair estates who will soon be in gaol; there is many a highborn dame who will gladly accept the hand of the youth upon whom the Duke of York smiles. Now, then, I seek to hear no more, and know no more. But stay, all such business requires money. Garnett, see to it that a purse with a hundred pounds be given to him. And more, what is done must be done secretly, and no man must know thy doings."

With this he left the room, and without another word passed out of my sight. I make confession here that the interview wellnigh stunned me. The duke had not been one, but three men during the time we had been together. At one time he had been cruel, hard, stern; at another he seemed to have his wits muddled with wine, when he had spoken in a way unworthy his high estate; and yet when he left me he made me feel that he was a man to be obeyed, strong, masterful, and clear-minded. In addition to this, my father had evidently been in secret conclave with him, and it was he who had bidden me obey the duke's commands. Therefore, although I was sorely bewildered, because he had commanded I must perforce obey.

One thing gave me peace of mind, and that was the fact that no mention had been made of the woman I had released at Bedford. I felt sure that did the duke dream of my action towards the woman who was accused of attempting the murder of General Monk, he would have used it as a threat in order to make me do his will. As it was, he took both my obedience and my silence for granted, and seemingly had no doubts, in spite of my behaviour during the first part of the interview, that I should dare to refuse his bidding.

"You have heard?" said the man who had accompanied me. "You have your work—do it."

I did not answer, for at this moment my father returned.

"Roland," he said, "here are the hundred pounds. You will note that they come from me. Obey his Grace's command. It is not only his will, but mine. Now haste, for I fear you have wasted time. Good-bye, and fear nothing."

At this he left me again, while I stood gazing at the door through which he had passed, almost too surprised for words.

"You have heard," said Master Garnett, "now go and be thankful. I need not tell you to be silent. You are not one who is foolish enough to talk with every passerby, but remember this—if you fail to do the duke's bidding the four seas that wash our shores would not save you from his anger."

Five minutes later I was in the street again, and that which I had seen and heard was only as a dream. Still, I had a hundred pounds in my pouch, and I knew that in accordance with the command of the king's brother, I must e'en make a second attempt to obtain what I at that time believed might be the king's marriage contract.

Within two hours of that time I was on horseback again, for by this time the fever of adventure was upon me, and I determined to again find my way within the walls of Pycroft Hall, and to take the parchment I had seen from its strange hiding place.

As I rode along I wondered that I had been content to wait in London so long, and had not, without the duke's command, sought to outwit the old man I had seen in the lonely house. For although I believed the old man had never imagined that I should escape alive, and therefore would not remove the contract from its hiding place until he was able to make terms with the king, I remembered that several days had elapsed wherein he might have carried it I know not whither. It was then I remembered that the great thought in my mind had not been to obtain the parchment which might alter the destiny of the nation, but to give help to the woman with whom I had so strangely been brought into contact. In truth it came to me that so eager had I been to hear news of her after I had returned to London town that I had scarcely ever thought of the mission which had brought us together. At this I grew angry with myself, for although she was very fair to look upon she was a Dissenter at heart, the wife of a man who had taken part in the death of the king's father, and was even then hiding from those who would bring her to punishment. As I said, I grew angry with myself because of this, yet in spite of my anger I wondered much concerning her, and prayed most earnestly for her safety and her welfare.

By the time daylight dawned I was far away from London, and was riding through one of the fairest tracts of country of which perchance our country can boast. I have, during my life, had occasion to ride through many parts of our land, but never do I remember thinking aught so fair as that through which I passed that day. The sun rose in a cloudless sky, the birds were singing all around me as they perched upon the leafy trees, while on my right hand, and on my left, the countryside rose and fell in gentle hills and dales.

"How quiet and restful everything is," I thought, and then I reflected that the day was the Sabbath, so I let Black Ben drop into a walk, in order that I might be able to enjoy with more comfort the beauty of the scene.

The sun was high in the heavens when I saw that I was drawing near a small town, so I determined that I would stay there for breakfast, never dreaming that I should pass through such a strange experience, and yet one the like of which was being witnessed all over the country.

CHAPTER XIX

"That's no matter. I do hear that the king is going to make a law, so Master Noel is taking time by the forelock, and we are to have gay doings."

The man turned in at a side road, while I rode on towards the inn I had seen in the main street. I called to mind what the Duke of York had said to me only the night before, and to me his words bore on the peasant's gossip. When he had said that although no laws had been passed against Independents and Presbyterians they had already been ejected from their pulpits, and many had been thrown into gaol, I could only regard it as the talk of a man who had drunk too freely; but now I saw that he spoke not without his book, and I determined that I would also find my way to the parish church that morning.

Desirous as I was of seeing what should take place, however, I saw to it that Black Ben was well foddered, and the morning air being pure and appetizing, I could not resist the breakfast which was placed before me. In truth so hearty was I that the church bell stopped ringing before I found myself in the churchyard. When I reached the porch of the church I found that if I entered it would be with difficulty. Nor do I think I should have found admission at all had not the people believed, when they saw my gay attire, and a sword hanging by my side, that I was sent by the king to see justice done. As it was many made way for me, and so I soon found myself within the church, which was filled from end to end with an eager crowd. I noticed that there was no noise nor confusion. Some, indeed, whispered to each other, while others smiled as if triumphantly, but on the faces of most was a look of pain and sorrow. On more than one countenance, however, I saw angry defiance, and I felt sure that although they were in the House of God, the affair was full of foreboding.

I had scarcely found a position from which I could both see and hear, when a man wearing a black gown entered the pulpit, and commenced to open the Bible, but scarcely had he done this than another, wearing a white surplice, rose from a pew close by, and said in a loud voice—

"In the name of God, and of the King's Majesty, I command you to desist."

"Who are you?" asked the man in the pulpit.

"John Noel, vicar of this parish," was the reply.

"Prove your right to that name," was the answer.

"It is my intention so to do," was the answer, "but, before I do so, do thou, a schismatic and a usurper, retire from this sacred building. For years hath this sacrilege continued, because the king hath been kept from his own; but now the king hath returned, and law and order must be restored."

"I have heard of thee," said the Independent; "thou art he who brought popish devices into the House of God, and because of it the people of this parish did drive thee out. Go thy way. This is the House of God, and it must not be made a den of thieves. The king promised before he came back that each minister should keep his benefice, and the king's promise is above thy prating."

"Come down, I tell thee, and desecrate not this holy place," cried the man wearing the surplice.

"I will not come down," cried the other. "I have been called of God to minister to this people, and this will I do in spite of the hosts of the Philistines."

Upon this he opened the Bible and began to read, but before six words had passed his lips a great number of strong men, armed, went to the pulpit and pulled him headlong from thence.

"Put him out of the House of God!" and I heard the voice of Master Noel above the mutterings of the people.

When Master Burnbridge had been dragged from the pulpit he was allowed to stand in the aisle, while Master Noel, his Prayer-book in his hand, mounted, and in a loud voice commanded the people to be silent for prayer. But this they would not be, for a great number of them arose and cried, "Master Burnbridge is our pastor, and he alone shall minister unto us."

Then I saw a great number of them rise, and were making their way towards him with anger in their eyes, and their hands clenched ready to strike, whereupon the many who had evidently been brought thither by Master Noel drew their weapons, and prepared to do battle.

I think the Independent minister saw that it would be useless for his followers to fight for him, or else he dreaded a scene of riot in the House of God, for he spoke aloud—

"Be quiet, good people," he said, "and fight not in the House of God with carnal weapons. This papist priest hath planned to do this, and we will not resist. It is true that Charles hath not commanded this, neither hath Parliament assented unto it, but this man believeth that both will support him. Moreover since the king's coming many of the people have turned riotous and drunken, and will no longer have the pure milk of the Word. But although we may be driven from the House of God, we are still the Lord's people, so let us go quietly to a field close by, so that we may worship God even as our fathers have done. Unhand me," he continued, turning to those who had dragged him from the pulpit, and still held him fast, "and I and my flock will e'en go where we can worship God unmolested, and where we can pray that the Lord's people may be protected."

At this the armed men let Master Burnbridge go, whereupon he walked down the aisle, as well as he was able for the crowd, while a goodly number, it might be a hundred, followed him from the church.

I was in two minds which to do. To leave the church with the Independents, or to stay and listen to Master Noel; but as I was anxious to hear what the follower of Archbishop Laud might have to say I took a seat close by, and prepared to listen. But few, I fancy, listened to the prayers which were read from the Prayer-book that morning. Each man had been too much moved by what had taken place to enter into the spirit of prayer, and I think every one heaved a sigh of relief when at length Master Noel began to preach. He gave out as his text these words—"The ploughers ploughed my back; they made long furrows. The Lord is righteous; he hath cut asunder the cords of the wicked." This text, he said, was indeed a true description of the followers of the Lord, since that son of Belial, Oliver Cromwell, had murdered his most sacred majesty, Charles I, and especially was it true of him, John Noel, who had been ejected from his church and vicarage by a committee of traitors, because of his loyalty to the late king. These incestuous heretics had discarded the Prayer-book, blasphemed against the one true Church, and committed sacrilege in the House of God. Moreover in the guise of those who prate about liberty they had allowed all sorts of heresy in the church, even while they were themselves the most rampant bigots. Yet had they sought to catch the itching ears of the ignorant by talks about toleration. But their reign was at an end, and soon the people of God would be freed from their accursed intolerable toleration. After this he enlarged upon what he called the heresies of Master Burnbridge, who for so long had poisoned the minds of the people, and who had that day been driven forth from God's house.

After speaking thus he dealt with his right to hire men to drive out the usurper. It is true, he said, that no law had yet been passed whereby such usurpers as Master Burnbridge had been driven forth, nevertheless this was within the rights of the aforetime rectors and vicar of the parishes. His Majesty King Charles II. was a Protestant, a man of God, and a loyal member of the Episcopal Church. He had not yielded to the Presbyterians who had appealed to him, and had not made any concessions to them. This proved that his Majesty had no sympathy with them. Therefore seeing that without bishops, priests, and deacons, there could be no king, it was right and fitting that they, as the king's loyal subjects, should return to their churches. This had been done in many places all over England, even before the king landed at Dover, and so far had justice been vindicated that in Wales especially scores of these naughty Independents had been driven from the churches, and hundreds of them had been thrown into gaol, until those same gaols were full even to overflowing. Thus they were right in ejecting this fellow Burnbridge. He was a usurper, and therefore was cast out of the temple, even as those who bought and sold in the temple at Jerusalem were cast out of olden time.

"Thus, my brethren," he continued, "we have done a part of our work. Having cleansed the church, our next duty is to drive the fellow out of the vicarage. This we will do after the close of this service."

"But," you will say, "this man will erect some meeting house in this town, where he will still poison the ears of the people. Let us trust in God. Ere long I believe a law will be passed, whereby not only will the church be purified from its taint of sin, but whereby none but those who belong to the episcopacy will be allowed to break the bread of life to the people, and a law compelling those same people to attend the church on the Sabbath days; ay, and not only that, but that they shall be forbidden to listen to any man who hath not been truly ordained a preacher of the Word. For this, let us pray, so that godliness and true religion shall be established in our land."

After this the service soon broke up, and I heard no sign of dissatisfaction anywhere. Mostly they seemed pleased by what had taken place, and nearly the whole congregation followed Master Noel across a field towards the rectory. On my way, I heard the sound of voices singing, and turning I saw a number of people in a meadow close by. A wagon had been placed under a tree, and on this wagon stood Master Burnbridge, his black gown being gently swayed to and fro in the summer breeze. All around him stood the people, but how many there were I know not. All of them, as far as I could judge, were singing, and these were the words that reached us—

When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.

Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen the Lord hath done great things for them.

The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad.

Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south.

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

At this there was much scornful derision among those who followed Master Noel; nevertheless, I thought the singing was very sweet.

A few minutes later the vicarage was the scene of great dust and confusion, for every stick that Master Burnbridge possessed was carried out into the lane which ran close by the house. Ay, so quickly was this done, that I do not think that the little band who worshipped in the field close by knew the meaning thereof. Nevertheless, even while Master Burnbridge was preaching to his flock, the road was being filled with the household treasures of the man who had been minister of the parish for ten years.

I took no part in the matter, neither was I at that moment strong in my sympathy with either the one side or the other. Nevertheless, I have set down exactly what I saw and heard as near as I can remember it, so that all who care may read.

Scarcely had the last armful of books been thrown into the road (and there was a great quantity of them), than Master Burnbridge came up.

"By whose authority hath this been done?" he cried, and I noticed that his voice was loud and angry.

"By mine," cried a portly man whom I had seen talking with Master Noel, "by mine—Henry Wellwood, of Wellwood Hall, a justice of the peace."

"Who is he?" I asked of one who stood by.

"Hush! Squire Wellwood, who for years hath hated the Independents, although he hath had to put up with them," was the reply.

"Then," said Master Burnbridge, "I declare this to be a most unlawful, as well as most unchristian and unholy act."

"You are paid back in your own coin, Master Prater," laughed the squire.

"I came to this living lawfully," replied Master Burnbridge. "Master Noel had behaved in a traitorous manner, and so by law he was ejected as a papist and a dealer in treasonous things. But there is no law against me, and I declare that you have behaved unlawfully."

"I?" cried the squire.

"Yes, you, Henry Wellwood—you whom I have so often rebuked for your riotous living and your drunken habits."

"A brawler! a brawler!" cried the squire, "Take him into custody constables, and clap him into gaol, as well as all the others who take his part."

At this I could no longer hold my peace.

"Master Wellwood, methinks this will sound bad when it reaches the king's ears," I cried.

"King's ears! And who will take it to him," he cried, turning angrily on me.

"I will," I cried.

"You will, and who are you?"

"It doth not matter who I am," I cried, "but I can tell you that I have the king's ear, and it will go hard with you."

"Take this malapert boy with the others," cried the squire to the constable, and I could see that he was much angered against me.

Two of the constables moved towards me, while the rest of the yokels stared at me openmouthed.

"I am a loyal subject of the king," I cried, drawing my sword, "and am neither Independent nor Presbyterian, but the first man that touches me shall die."

The men started back as I caused my sword to whistle around my head, and as they only had heavy bludgeons they did not come nearer. But it came to me even then that I could do no good by interfering further. I had acted on the impulse of the moment, for I deemed it unfair that Master Burnbridge, Independent though he was, should be clapped into gaol for protesting against the spoiling of his goods; yet I knew I could do nothing. All the popular feeling was against the Independent minister, who I was told afterwards had been very severe with loose and careless lives. Besides, I reflected that I could not help matters by allowing myself to be clapped into gaol. I would, therefore, have escaped if I could, but in turning to do so two men had come up behind my back, and before I could even struggle for liberty I was closely pinioned.

Before an hour had passed I was in the town lock-up with eight others, amongst whom was Master Burnbridge. As may be imagined I was little pleased with myself. First, because I was no Independent at heart, and second because my interference had done more harm than good. Moreover I was angry that I should be in prison, as though I were a drunken tapster, and in company with people whom my father had often called hypocritical psalm-Psingers. For we were all huddled together in an open space, neither had we anything to sit upon, although straw was placed upon the floor, upon which most of my companions lay down.

"The Lord hath touched your heart, young man," said Master Burnbridge.

"As to that I doubt much," I replied; "yet could I not help being angry at the way the man Wellwood treated you."

"Ay, but the spirit of the Lord was in your heart, else had you not resented such injustice. But in truth I am not surprised at all this. I have heard that Master Noel hath been in secret conclave with Master Wellwood, and I heard rumours that what hath been going on ever since King Charles hath been recalled would also happen to me. For myself I care not, but I grieve for my wife and children, for what will they do without house and home?"

At this I was silent, for in truth what could I say?

"And yet I must not fear," he went on, "for the Lord is still upon His Throne. He delivered the Hebrew youths out of the fiery furnace, and He will deliver me. But oh, I fear that dark days are coming upon England."

"But the king hath made fair promises," I urged.

"Fair promises!" cried Master Burnbridge, "and you see what they are worth. Even before His Majesty hath been a week on his throne, and before the matter of religion hath been dealt with, such as I are ejected from our livings and thrown into the gaols. Moreover, although the law is supposed to be on our side, no one stood up for it save you, a stranger. If this be done at this time, what will be done when the hosts of Belial have passed their laws? 'If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?' I tell thee, young man, this land will be full of wailing and gnashing of teeth."

"That remains to be seen," I replied. "When the king hath time to make the power of his arm felt, perchance these things will cease."

"Cease! Charles Stuart make them to cease! Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? I tell you he hath been brought back to England by lies and corruption, and by lies and corruption he will maintain his throne until the Lord shall speak."

"Brought back by lies and corruption!" I cried.

"Ay, I speak boldly. Who schemed to bring him back? Monk. Who is Monk? A man who plays for his own hand. First a Presbyterian, then an Independent, then nothing. Monk played a game, young master, and so we see what we see."

After this I was left much alone, for these people saw that I was not one of them. Moreover, they spent much time in prayer, and in singing of hymns, and on the whole were of a cheerful countenance.

Presently as night fell most of them fell asleep, and thus but little notice was taken when the door opened and a man whom I took to be a gaoler took me by the arm and led me forth.

"Whither do you lead me?" I asked.

"Hush, and ask no questions," was his reply.

Ere long I found myself nearing the vicarage, and again I asked why I was led thither.

"To see Master Wellwood," was the reply.

"Why should I see Master Wellwood?"

"You will soon know."

A few minutes later I stood in a room of the vicarage, which was empty save for three chairs, on two of which sat Master Wellwood and Master Noel.

CHAPTER XX

"My name must not be known," I replied. "I am on the king's business, and thus do not tell my name to every passerby; nevertheless, I think his Majesty will be angry when he knows that his trusted envoy hath been thrown into a lock-up."

"It may be, young master; we acted zealously, yet we acted in the king's interests," replied Master Wellwood. "For what is the truth? It is only by supporting the Church that we support the king. For this is how it appeareth to us. Religion must be maintained, and schismatics cast out. For who are the king's enemies? The schismatics. Through them His Sacred Majesty King Charles the First was beheaded, therefore no man can be loyal to the king without establishing the true religion. And what is true religion? It is the Protestant religion—that is the Protestant religion which is neither rabid nor rancorous, but such as King Charles the First encouraged and sanctioned. But where is that true Protestant religion to be found? Only in the Episcopacy. For the safety of the State, and the permanence of the crown, we must have bishops, priests, and deacons. All schismatics are enemies to the crown, and to religion. Therefore, although no laws hath yet been passed against these naughty heretics, we must for the sake of the king's crown stop the mouths of all these Presbyterians and Independents."

Master Wellwood was wellnigh out of breath by the time he had finished this long harangue, but having taken a drink from a glass of brandy he went on.

"That was why, out of loyalty to his Majesty, and for the sake of religion, we even drove out that blaspheming prater this morning. Moreover, as he usurped Master Noel's house we naturally drove him out from hither. But for his naughty tongue he need not now be in prison; but he spoke foul untruths, therefore had he to be punished as a brawler. Besides, not knowing who you were, and when you took sides with the prating heretic, we naturally thought you were of his order. Therefore it was our duty to punish you. But since we have decided that you were in ignorance as to your duty and therefore, judging you to be a man of quality, we give you back your sword and your liberty."

With that Master Wellwood rose, and gave me my sword back.

"Your horse will be also ready at the White Hart," he went on, "and if you have the ear of the king you can tell him that we are his most zealous subjects."

As may be imagined, I was much angered at the coolness of this dismissal, but when I came to think about the matter I came to the conclusion that I should do no good by causing a fuss. For although the laws had not been altered, so greatly had the tide of feeling changed that it was impossible to get justice for the Independents; moreover, if the king were informed about the things which had taken place, he would doubtless have laughed indifferently, and have taken no further notice. In truth, as I was afterwards told, before any acts against Dissenters were passed, the king was much pleased when he was told that they were thrown into prison so that his throne might be established.

Without much ado, therefore, I went back to the inn, and, not desiring to remain any longer in the town, mounted Black Ben and rode through the night towards Folkestone. Not that I was overmuch pleased at the way things had turned out. It is true I was young, and had given but little heed to matters relating to religion, yet did I conceive that I had not behaved very gallantly to Master Burnbridge, whose cause I had espoused. Yet so angry was I at being imprisoned, and so eager was I to get to Pycroft Hall that I thought little of anything else. The time was coming when I was to be brought into closer contact with matters appertaining to religion, but at that time I was but ill-acquainted with those questions which were to be of such trouble to the State. Moreover, as I recalled my experiences at Pycroft I became more and more anxious lest I should fail in the thing I had set out to do. I realized that directly I had escaped from the prison house in which I had been immured, I ought to have returned forthwith, and rested not until I had obtained a document of such great value. But I had gone to Dover to witness the coming of the king, and when I had heard that Mistress Constance Denman was imprisoned I had forgotten all else in order that I might set her at liberty.

When I drew near to Pycroft I began to plan how I might carry my designs into effect. For although the thing seemed easy enough at first, it assumed different proportions as I drew nearer to it. Moreover, I continued to upbraid myself for allowing so much precious time to escape, during which Father Solomon might have transported the thing elsewhere. Would not the very fact that I knew the hiding place cause the old man to remove it? Before this time he would doubtless have again descended into the cavern to discover what had become of me, and on finding that I had gone would take steps accordingly.

Nevertheless, I hoped for the best in spite of the fears I have here set down, and when on the Monday I drew near Folkestone, I had my plans all ready. I did not go to the Barley Sheaf, as before, but instead rode straight to Pycroft Hall. The same silence reigned as I passed through the woods, and although it was now fast approaching midsummer the birds seemed afraid to sing, so dark and gloomy were the trees which surrounded the house.

No man did I meet, and for this I was very thankful. I felt that the thing which I desired to do demanded the greatest secrecy, and that it would not be wise to let any man be acquainted with my doings. For this reason I did not even go to an inn, as I had first intended, but instead made my way direct to the house. When I had wellnigh reached the open space which surrounded the building I dismounted and proceeded on foot, leaving Black Ben to roam as he felt disposed. I knew I was safe in doing this, for I had trained him to come to my whistle even as a dog obeys his master. As for any one stealing him, that, as I have explained elsewhere, was impossible.

Directly I had come to the open space I had a feeling that something had happened. The very air seemed laden with mystery, and on casting my eyes towards the house my feelings were confirmed. A great part of the building was in ruins. A few days before it had stood intact, its doors were bolted, its windows barricaded; but now not a door remained standing. There was not a whole window to be seen. Eagerly I rushed across towards the tree from which I had first seen the strange old man, but on arriving there I saw that this end of the house was wellnigh completely demolished. All around, moreover, were heaps of débris; desolation was more than ever manifested. But little more than the shell of the building remained.

A minute later I made my way to the room where I had my interview with the old man, but the place was scarcely recognizable. Only one thing remained which reminded me of our meeting. That was a grinning skull, which had somehow survived the wreck of other things.

For a moment I was stunned. I could not comprehend what it all portended; but presently my mind became clearer. Following as well as I was able the course I remembered to have taken with the old man on the night of our interview, I found my way to the place where the trap door had been lifted. A great heap of rubbish crossed the place now, and this I set to work to move with all speed. Ere long I discovered the thing I sought, and remembering the spot where old Solomon had pressed his foot, I did even as he had done, and the door lifted. As it did so I started back, for a choking sulphurous smell arose, and to my excited imagination I thought I heard strange cries.

"It might be the very mouth of hell," I said to myself; and in truth there was reason for my thought. When I called to mind what he had said, together with the strange history of the place, I did not wonder that the simple folk were afraid to come hither. The sulphurous smoke, moreover, set me coughing greatly, while a great feeling of dread gat hold of me.

But this was only for a moment. Lonely as was the place, and fearful as were the thoughts in my mind, I conquered myself. Perhaps my curiosity helped me in this. For now that I had come so far I determined to probe this thing to the bottom. I felt sure that this was all done by human means, although I could not understand it.

Having seen to it that my flint and tinder and candle were in good condition, I put my foot on the step of the ladder, and descended into the depths as I had done when the old man was with me.

I thought I heard a strange mocking laugh as I did this, but I put it down to my excited imagination, and although my heart beat aloud, I went straight on. On reaching the bottom of the shaft I lit my candle, and then followed the windings of the tunnel, even as I had followed them before. Having made careful note of everything on the previous occasion I found but little difficulty in finding my way again. And yet never in my life had I made so fearful a journey; for try as I might I could not rid from my mind the fact that I was surrounded by grinning jabbering spirits of the dead, who mocked me in the thing I was seeking to do. Neither could I rid myself of the fear that even then old Solomon was near me, waiting to complete the destruction of my life which he had attempted when we were here together before.

As I look back now I wonder that I did not give up my search in despair, for while any man with good courage can fight a battle in the open day, when his enemy is plainly in sight, it is another matter to face dread darkness, and the thousand things that haunt the darkness. In truth I doubt whether I should have gone forward but for two things. The one was my father's teaching. For this stood me in good stead now. Often had he laughed at the stories of witches and wizards; often had he scorned in my hearing stories of the supernatural which were so rife in every home in our land. But this was not all. The desire to possess the thing which would alter the destiny of England nerved me to brave anything. I remembered the look on Duke James' face. I called to mind how I had been attacked on the highway, and the words which had been uttered, and I knew the thing meant much. I had seen the writing on the parchment, and I understood what it meant. Besides, my father had commanded me. His future depended on the discovery, for Duke James had said that if this were brought to him my father's hopes should be fulfilled. And there was more than this. Even then I bethought me of the woman whom I had rescued from Bedford Gaol, and the more I thought of her the more did I fear for her. If she were captured again, should I not, by the possession of this precious document, have means in my hand whereby I could render her service?

Therefore I went forward until I came to the open place where the thing had been placed, and here I stood still. For a moment I thought I was going to swoon, for there were many strange sounds in my head, while the black sides of the cavern, which were dimly revealed by the candle I held in my hand, seemed to be dancing around me. But this I knew was because my heart beat so loudly, and because my blood chased so madly through my veins. So I called all my resolution to my aid, and conquered my weakness.