The elder of the two, throwing the reins upon his horse’s neck, alighted, and leaving the ostler to take the steed away, he strode quickly into the inn without uttering a word.  The young man, however, got off his saddle in a more leisurely fashion, and before he followed his companion he proceeded to the stable to see that the horses were properly attended to.

“The old man is a trifle out of sorts,” the ostler ventured to remark, as they entered the yard together.

“Perchance so,” returned the other, “but that is no affair of thine; but an you keep good care of his horse he will think well of thee.”

“Yes, yes; certainly!” replied the man, grinning.  “I always look well after gentlemen’s horses, I do.  You’ll not be wanting them in the morning, I suppose?

“Yes, no; that is—­I don’t think we shall, but anyway you had better have them in readiness, we may possibly want them for the return journey to-morrow:  tend them well;” and leaving a few final instructions, Sir Thomas Stanley, for he it was, passed out of the stables and entered the parlour of the inn.

Sir George Vernon was so engrossed in poring over a document which lay stretched out on the table before him that he did not notice the approach of his friend, and it was not until the latter inquired whether the meal was already ordered that the baron looked up and saw him.

“Oh, it’s you,” he exclaimed; “yes, we shall fall to directly; but I want you just to look at this first.”

“What is it,” inquired Stanley, “the summons again?”

“The summons, of course,” replied Sir George, as he thrust it into the other’s hands.

“What did the attorney say?”

“He said it was a bad case; a very bad case.  He said, in fact, that he never came across a more unpromising case for a client of his since he set himself up as a lawyer.”

“Humph!” returned Sir Thomas, “they always do say so.  I tell you it will come out all right in the end.”

“Happen so; but he says the ordeal would go for nothing, they don’t count now in courts of law here.  They would do if the trial came off at Derby, I know.”

“Aye,” assented his friend, “I’ll warrant it would count there, for no one would dare to resist thee; but you see, Sir George, it’s at London, and that makes all the difference.”

“Warder, read the summons through,” pursued the baron.  “I could not understand it, of course, I’m not much of a lawyer; but he says ’tis the work of that villainous locksmith.  I wish I had hanged him at the same time, and then—­”

“Well, what then?”

“It’s too late, now,” said Sir George, bitterly.  “If they do condemn me I shall claim the benefit of clergy.  I know some of the prayers, and if I can only find the right page I shall get on well enough.  They will only fine me, though, at worst.”

“But you have enemies at Court, remember.”

“Well, let them do their worst.  I shall not disgrace myself when the time comes, and in the meantime I will address myself to Lord Burleigh; he is all-powerful now.”