or later; but his whole being revolted at the idea of losing the riches of his burden and above all—­the secret, the secret that would make his fortunes thribble, the secret that would make him more powerful than heretofore.  The King’s favour would be boundless.  And George Villiers turned abruptly and—­fell into a swollen ravine that was throbbing with its over-filled sides.  He straightened himself to his full height and thanked God for the stream, for truly ’twas life-giving water.

He waded in and found it hardly came to his waist in the deepest part.  After crossing to its farthest bank, he kept the watery path for nearly a league, thereby throwing his pursuers effectually off the trail.  But where his course trended, ’twas impossible to tell, as there was no moon, and the stars were veiled by thick cloud that vomited forth rain in gusts.

The leather bags were very near rain-soaked and had become so heavy ’twas impossible for anything less than a beast of burden to carry them further, so leaving the friendly stream, he walked some little distance from it, gaining to his surprise an open road.  This was not what he wished, and was turning from it when he stumbled and fell prone.  Being hot with anger and fatigue, he reached for the obstacle that had so unmanned him to damn it.  ’Twas a large, round knot.  It struck his memory, as he held it, with a thought of the morning before.

“Eureka!” he cried, as he felt the very presence of the tall tree by the public highway that led from Crandlemar, London way.  He arose and reached for the aperture.

“Egad, ’tis there!”

Fortunately the royal tree was not far from the unused cabin that had afforded him accommodation some hours before.  He immediately sat down upon the bags and rested.

There passed him several horsemen and a chaise; whether they were his whilom companions of the thicket or not he did not care.  It was sure they were in haste to leave the village as far behind them as possible.

When the sound of the horses’ hoofs had died away, he again donned his leathery burden and made for the depths behind him.

He was not long in reaching the rendezvous, and was met by his anxious servant, who had but just arrived from seeking him.

The exhausted Duke gave orders for one hour’s rest, then fell upon a pile of blankets that were spread upon the damp and open floor.

An hour later saw the Duke astride his horse, that stood with flaring nostrils, caring not a whit for his extra burden of saddle-bags and flew along the wet road, regardless.

Hours after his master jumped from his back at Hornby’s.

The morning was far advanced and Mistress Penwick was fretting under the delay.

Monmouth had plead that the weather was too wet and Lady Constance was too ill to proceed until the following day.

The maid had demurred, saying Janet might remain with her ladyship; but Monmouth was not quite at liberty to take Katherine without first seeing Buckingham, whom he thought should have arrived early in the morning.