Sir Thomas was dressed, and he met the baron at the top of the stairs--much to their mutual surprise.

"Good morrow, Thomas," exclaimed the baron, "I had come to awaken thee; see here!" and holding up the doc.u.ment he had discovered, he dragged the heir to the Derby estates downstairs without uttering another word or allowing any time for explanations.

"Read that," he said, as soon as they were seated.

Sir Thomas took the roll from the other's hand, and after a superficial scrutiny he was soon deeply engrossed in carrying out the command, while Sir George leaned his elbows upon the table and carefully studied the changing emotions which followed each other in rapid succession upon the young man's face.

Sir Thomas Stanley read it through twice, and then carefully folding it up, he gave the baron a prolonged inquiring look.

"Well," exclaimed Sir George, "you have read it?"

"I have."

"Is it important?"

"a.s.suredly it is. What have you done in the matter?"

"Naught, save that I have shown it thee."

"Is that all, Sir George?"

"All! yes. Why?"

"It is valuable; where did you get it?"

"I found it upon the floor under the table. What is it, though?"

"Show me your summons first. You have discovered information, I believe, which will tide you safely over the trial."

"Eh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old knight, dropping the bulky summons upon the table; "found what?"

Sir Thomas returned no answer to the query, for, leaving his companion to grasp the importance of the words he had just uttered, he spread out the two doc.u.ments side by side upon the table and busied himself in comparing them together.

CHAPTER XV.

SIR GEORGE AT WESTMINSTER.

Go, let the treacherous throw their darts And sore the good malign Perjure their conscience, stain their hearts, To gain their foul design.

Yet shall right triumph at the end; And virtue fortune shall defend.

ANON.

For some time the two n.o.blemen sat in silence, but at length Sir Thomas Stanley looked up and gave the baron some very pleasant news.

"You are safe," he said. "You need no longer fear this Nathan Grene, nor Sir Ronald Bury, nor anybody else for the matter of that; you are perfectly safe."

Sir George Vernon simply opened his eyes and his mouth wide in sheer surprise, and seeing that he made no attempt to speak, Sir Thomas proceeded.

"This is a letter from Grene's own counsel. It is of the utmost importance. Nathan Grene must have been here yesterday."

"What! at the inn here? This very inn?"

"Aye! and in this very room. Here is his signature, dated yesterday.

Maybe he is above even now."

"Like enough," said the baron fiercely, and he looked as if he would like to search each separate chamber in the house there and then.

"Listen," said Stanley, "this is what the lawyer says: 'I am doubtful if, after all, the prosecution will not fall through. The summons was issued by your direction against "The King of the Peak," whereas it ought to have read "Sir George Vernon." Warder, who, I hear, is the agent of the Vernon family, will surely recognise this, and if the baron refuses to answer the t.i.tle contained in the summons, then our case will fall to the ground. We must hope for the best, as we can do no more. It is too late to rectify the error now.'"

"Here," said Sir Thomas, looking up, "the counsellor stops; but our friend Grene has added a few notes of his own, evidently directions to some of his friends."

"Go on, then," commanded Sir George impetuously.

"'We must get Warder out of the way till the trial is over,' he writes. 'The ostler here, who brings this message to thee, is in our confidence, and may be trusted. Meet as arranged to-night. If we fail at the trial we will have our revenge elsewhere. I am in danger, and may not meet you yet, but follow Sir Ronald and he will reward you.'"

He stopped reading, for while they had been thus together the household had become astir, and it was evident that someone was about to enter the room in which they were seated.

His conjecture was right, for barely had he paused ere the door was pushed open, and the ostler stepped quickly in, startled indeed to find the library already occupied. He started to retire, but the baron called him back.

"Come hither, sirrah," he cried, regardless of his friend's wiser counsel to desist.

Hugh unwillingly returned.

"Do you know that?" Sir George exclaimed, holding up the packet he had discovered.

Hugh had come purposely to seek it, but deeming it unwise to admit the fact, he boldly answered in the negative. "That will do," said the younger knight quietly; "you can depart."

Again he started to go, but again Sir George called him back.

"Read it," he said peremptorily, and he thrust the parchment into the ostler's hands.

"I cannot read," he replied; but suddenly bethinking himself that he was implicated by the written evidence, he quickly changed his mind, and eagerly s.n.a.t.c.hing the doc.u.ment from the baron, he hastened out of the room and turned the lock sharply upon the wonder-stricken knights.

No time was to be lost; Hugh knew their knocking would soon be heard, and that before long they would be released, when there would be hue and cry after him; so, rapidly catching up a few of his own things--and he had few of his own handy enough to take--and adding a few convenient valuables belonging to his master to pay for his services, he quickly pa.s.sed out of the house and sped on his way to join the confederates of Edmund Wynne.

Edmund, too, had pa.s.sed a sleepless night. At first he had attempted to burst his chains asunder, but soon realising the utter uselessness of such conduct, and being also covered with bruises, he desisted and pa.s.sed the next hour in calling out for relief. No relief came; only the mice and the insects heard his cries, and the former affrighted, sought seclusion in their holes, leaving the latter to survey in silent surprise the new comer who had intruded upon their privacy.

Wearied out, he gave over shouting at last, and lay upon the floor of his damp cell, tossing uneasily about from side to side. The sun set; the dark night came and went; the morning sun arose, and yet he knew it not. It was too dark for him to see anything, for even no ray of light found its way inside to gladden the heart of the prisoner. He was altogether shut off from the world; he was, for the time being, to all intents and purposes, buried alive.

At length, after a night of abject misery, which seemed as if it never would end, he heard the key turned in the lock, and in another moment the gaoler entered. He fastened Edmund's hands securely behind his back, and unlocking the fetters he bade him follow him to the court.

The landlord of the c.o.c.k Tavern was already there, much enraged at the loss of his property and the conduct of his servant, which he laid to the charge of the prisoner. In a very short s.p.a.ce of time Edmund Wynne was convicted as a vagabond, and he listened akin to relief as the Judge sentenced him to be kept in the stocks for the rest of the day and threatened him with a whipping in the pillory if he were brought before him on a second occasion. Much to the annoyance of the innkeeper, the attempt to connect the prisoner with the loss of his property and the ostler's flight entirely broke down; and disgusted with everybody and everything, the good man returned to the tavern to smile with counterfeited pleasure at his customers, and to vent his rage upon the servants who were left him.

The loss of the paper somewhat disconcerted Sir George Vernon, and after the disappearance of the ostler he sat for a minute or two quite dumbfounded, gazing in speechless surprise at the closed door. His companion was a man of action, however, and undaunted by finding the door locked, he hastened to the window, and would have attempted an exit there had it not been that the windows were too narrow for such a procedure.