Buckingham, after a few hours’ sleep, left Hornby’s Inn, returning to the village of Crandlemar.  He wore no masque this time and boldly entered the inn to refresh himself and prepare for a visit to the castle.  He took little heed of the slender young man who now lay, very much drunken, upon a long bench; but ordered the best wine and sat down before a table that was already accommodating some half-dozen men.  He appeared not to hear their excited whispers, and feigned preoccupation until he was quite sure his manner had been noted, then as if modesty held him, he spoke,—­

“Is there not in these parts a monastery upon the estates of the noble Lord Cedric of Crandlemar?” He hardly raised his eyes, so indifferently did he put the question.

“There is, sir,” one said.

“Then where hath flown my lord’s religion?”

This struck consternation upon the group; for ’twas certain they loved their patron’s good name, even though he did forget their importunities, and this sudden thrust struck home.  One whispered aside,—­

“Perhaps ’tis one come to spy upon our lord’s intentions and take him to the Tower.”  At this one honest, brave man arose and leant with rustic grace across the table toward the stranger and said,—­

“His lordship lies ill yonder,” pointing over his shoulder toward the castle, “and we loyal subjects to his Majesty, claim the right to drive from Protestant soil the shackles of Catholic freeholds, and ’tis our intention to come upon them—­what say you, fellows, to-night?”

“Aye, aye!” rang from nearly a score of tongues.

“’Tis well,” said the cavalier, “for to-morrow might have been too late.”

“What might that mean, sir?”

“It means that Catholic lands and holds are sometimes confiscated and in some cases the boundary lines are not known, and some good King might send some noble lord to the Tower to search for the required limitations of his demesne.”

Every man’s hand sought a weapon and eye met eye in mutual concourse.

“To-night, then, to-night we’ll put to rout the enemy!” they cried.

The cavalier, pleased with the reception of his hint, asked for his horse.

He arrived at the castle to be most cordially received by the Duchess and Sir Julian.  If Buckingham was ever unbending, it was to Sir Julian.

As they met, Buckingham bent lower than his wont to hide a guilt that was not perceptible to any one else but Julian, and the latter was not slow to note it.  The Duchess, not knowing who had carried off either Constance or Mistress Penwick, was very free in her conversation and spoke at once of Lord Cedric’s injury and of the naughty beauty that had driven him to it.  Buckingham’s countenance was changed by the assumed expression of either surprise or regret, as was necessary and suited.

Upon his arrival he was not allowed to see either the Duke or Cedric, and as his business called for a speedy return to London, he must leave early after supper, adding that he regretted the importunity of the hour, as it detained the king’s business with his Grace of Ellswold.