“It is singular,” said Mareschal to Ratcliffe, “that four horsemen and a female prisoner should have passed through the country without leaving the slightest trace of their passage.  One would think they had traversed the air, or sunk through the ground.”

“Men may often,” answered Ratcliffe, “arrive at the knowledge of that which is, from discovering that which is not.  We have now scoured every road, path, and track leading from the castle, in all the various points of the compass, saving only that intricate and difficult pass which leads southward down the Westburn, and through the morasses.”

“And why have we not examined that?” said Mareschal.

“O, Mr. Vere can best answer that question,” replied his companion, dryly.

“Then I will ask it instantly,” said Mareschal; and, addressing Mr. Vere, “I am informed, sir,” said he, “there is a path we have not examined, leading by Westburnflat.”

“O,” said Sir Frederick, laughing, “we know the owner of Westburnflat well—­a wild lad, that knows little difference between his neighbour’s goods and his own; but, withal, very honest to his principles:  he would disturb nothing belonging to Ellieslaw.”

“Besides,” said Mr. Vere, smiling mysteriously, “he had other tow on his distaff last night.  Have you not heard young Elliot of the Heugh-foot has had his house burnt, and his cattle driven away, because he refused to give up his arms to some honest men that think of starting for the king?”

The company smiled upon each other, as at hearing of an exploit which favoured their own views.

“Yet, nevertheless,” resumed Mareschal, “I think we ought to ride in this direction also, otherwise we shall certainly be blamed for our negligence.”

No reasonable objection could be offered to this proposal, and the party turned their horses’ heads towards Westburnflat.

They had not proceeded very far in that direction when the trampling of horses was heard, and a small body of riders were perceived advancing to meet them.

“There comes Earnscliff,” said Mareschal; “I know his bright bay with the star in his front.”

“And there is my daughter along with him,” exclaimed Vere, furiously.  “Who shall call my suspicions false or injurious now?  Gentlemen—­friends—­lend me the assistance of your swords for the recovery of my child.”

He unsheathed his weapon, and was imitated by Sir Frederick and several of the party, who prepared to charge those that were advancing towards them.  But the greater part hesitated.

“They come to us in all peace and security,” said Mareschal-Wells; “let us first hear what account they give us of this mysterious affair.  If Miss Vere has sustained the slightest insult or injury from Earnscliff, I will be first to revenge her; but let us hear what they say.”

“You do me wrong by your suspicions, Mareschal,” continued Vere; “you are the last I would have expected to hear express them.”