The whole thing was not very heroic perhaps.  A few idlers caught in an illicit act and under threat of arrest.  The consequences—­of a truth—­would not be vastly severe for the frequenters of this secret club; fines mayhap, which most of those present could ill afford to pay, and at worst a night’s detention in one of those horrible wooden constructions which had lately been erected on the river bank for the express purpose of causing sundry lordly offenders to pass an uncomfortable night.

These were days of forcible levelings:  and my lord who had contravened old Noll’s laws against swearing and gambling, fared not one whit better than the tramp who had purloined a leg of mutton from an eating-house.

Nay! in a measure my lord fared a good deal worse, for he looked upon his own detention through the regicide usurper’s orders, as an indignity to himself; hence the reason why in this same house wherein a few idle scions of noble houses indulged in their favorite pastime, when orders rang out in the name of His Highness, swords jumped out of their sheaths, and resistance was offered out of all proportion to the threat.

The man who seemed to be the captain of the patrol smiled somewhat grimly when he saw himself confronted by this phalanx of gentlemanly weapons.  He was a tall, burly fellow, broad of shoulder and well-looking in his uniform of red with yellow facings; his round bullet-shaped head, covered by the round steel cap, was suggestive of obstinacy, even of determination.

He eyed the flushed and excited throng with some amusement not wholly unmixed with contempt.  Oh! he knew some of the faces well enough by sight—­for he had originally served in the train-bands of London, and had oft seen my Lord Walterton, for instance, conspicuous at every entertainment—­now pronounced illicit by His Highness, and Sir Anthony Bridport, a constant frequenter at Exeter House, and young Lord Naythmire the son of the Judge.  He also had certainly seen young Segrave before this, whose father had been a member of the Long Parliament; the only face that was totally strange to him was that of the youngster in the dark suit of grogram, who stood somewhat aloof from the irate crowd, and seemed to be viewing the scene with astonishment rather than with alarm.

Lord Walterton, flushed with wine, more than with anger, constituted himself the spokesman of the party: 

“Who are you?” he asked somewhat unsteadily, “and what do you want?”

“My name is Gunning,” replied the man curtly, “captain commanding His Highness’ police.  What I want is that you gentlemen offer no resistance, but come with me quietly to answer on the morrow before Judge Parry, a charge of contravening the laws against betting and gambling.”

A ribald and prolonged laugh greeted this brief announcement, and some twenty pairs of gentlemanly shoulders were shrugged in token of derision.

“Hark at the man!” quoth Sir James Overbury lightly, “methinks, gentlemen, that our wisest course would be to put up our swords and to throw the fellows downstairs, what say you?”