<SPAN name="chap57"></SPAN>
<h3 class="chapter">Chapter Fifty Seven.</h3>
<h4 class="event">A Crime in Contemplation.</h4>
<p class="narrative">Still self-invited, Rupert accompanied the ladies to the house, and assisted them to dismount with great show of courtesy and respect. The little ruffle with Vaga had determined him not to try on that tack again.</p>
<p class="narrative">He did not go inside with them, having some directions to give to his suite, seen approaching up the avenue. Besides, it was nearing dinner hour, and they must needs repair to their dressing-rooms.</p>
<p class="narrative">Left by himself, the Prince seemed all impatience for his escort to come up. He had even shown haste when helping the ladies out of their saddles, as if wishing to be disembarrassed of them with the least delay. Some new thought, or scheme, had evidently entered his mind; and recently, or since despatching Trevor with the order to Lunsford, as then he had said nothing about time.</p>
<p class="narrative">When they were near enough to hear him he called out, making a sign to the officer at their head to hasten them on. This was Lunsford himself, who, perceiving that something was wanted, separated from the cavalcade, spurring his horse to a quick canter. As the haw-haw gate had already been opened, he passed through it without. Stop or interruption, on to the house.</p>
<p class="narrative">“Come up—nearer!” said the Prince, speaking low, and in a cautious manner as if he feared being overheard. He was standing in the porch, a little elevated above the ground, and as the other drew alongside, seated in the saddle, their heads were close enough for conversing in whispers.</p>
<p class="narrative">“What is it, your Highness?” asked Lunsford, wondering at the air of mystery.</p>
<p class="narrative">“I suppose Trevor has told you the <i>pater</i> isn’t at home?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“He has, Prince; but I knew it before.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Indeed! How learnt you? When?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Just after your Highness rode away from us. One of Powell’s people, a sort of shepherd, or cowboy, chanced to be coming into the park; and with a little cross-questioning I got out of him, both the fact of his master’s absence, and the whereabouts.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“He’s at Gloucester.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Yes, Prince. But the affair of Monmouth will draw him home, soon as he receives news of it. He should have had that long ago; so may be expected here at any moment.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Just so. But if he get word of our being here before him, he may turn back and give us the go-by. So I want half a dozen files detached, and sent off along the Gloucester road, under a trusty officer, in all haste. If they meet him, he’s to be made prisoner at once.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“It’s already done, your Highness.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“What! Has Powell been taken?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“No, Prince; pardon me. I meant the detachment has been sent to intercept him. I took the liberty of doing that without your orders. There was not time to communicate with your Highness, unless at the risk of being too late.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“True, Colonel, true.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“And it would have been too late,” he went on to explain in justification of his act. “As your Highness started to join the hawking party, perhaps you may not have noticed a man separating from it, and riding back through the trees?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“<i>Nein</i>, Colonel. I did not.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“But I did, Prince. He appeared to be one of their attendants—a groom—though in the distance one couldn’t be sure what. But from the way he went off I suspected it had something to do with our being seen. Soon as I learnt the other thing, I was sure of it. Besides, shortly after he had passed out of sight behind the firs, I distinctly heard hoof-strokes, as of a horse in full gallop. Putting that and that together it occurred to me he might have gone off to give the very warning your Highness apprehended.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“If such were his intent, he may still?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“No, Prince; not likely. He won’t be in time. Going out by a back gate he’ll have to ride the whole round of the park before he can get upon the Drybrook road, which is that for Gloucester. The detachment started only a few minutes—less than five—after; and on the direct route will easily head him off. They have orders to lay him by the heels, and bring him back here; it’s to be hoped the other with him.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“<i>Gott</i>, Colonel! you’ve been clever. A capital stroke of strategy. If it fail, I shan’t blame you.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Your Highness’s approval gratifies me. I think we need not fear failure. At all events the messenger, if such he is, will be stopped, and something will be squeezed out of him as to his errand. I gave instructions that a file be sent back with him, soon as taken. So we may expect seeing him ere long. I suppose your Highness designs to quarter here for the night?”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Any number of nights, Colonel, if one be not enough for accomplishing my purpose.”</p>
<p class="narrative">“Half a one will be enough for that, Prince, if you proceed to accomplishing it in the way I would advise you. No timid measures will avail here; only the bold course, which conquest gives a right to, all over the world.”</p>
<p class="narrative">Without a blush did the ruffian give utterance to his atrocious counsels; for he knew they were congenial to him into whose ears he was pouring them.</p>
<p class="narrative">“Belike, that will be the best way,” rejoined the Prince, well knowing what was hinted at. “I come to be of your mind, Colonel. But now, return to the escort. Give directions for their going into quarters. See that sentries are set round the house, with outlying pickets. We cannot be too careful, though Monmouth is in our hands. When you have everything settled, come to me inside. Then we can talk about further action.”</p>
<p class="narrative">Light of heart, Lunsford proceeded to the execution of the orders thus given. By the Prince’s manner—and speech, half admitting—he saw that the latter had received a rebuff, and was in the mood for violence, even to outrage. It would be nothing new to him; nor the first time for the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower to be his aid and companion in such a criminal escapade as that they were now contemplating.</p>
<p class="narrative">Verily were Ambrose Powell’s daughters in danger! And a danger neither had conception or suspicion of.</p>
<p class="narrative"></p>
<hr /></div>
<div class="page-break"></div>
<div class="bodytext">
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />