“How far are we from it?” enquired Mr. Nash.

“About a mile or a mile and a-half,” replied Coristine.

“Then, Mr. Wilkinson, let us stir our stumps a bit.  Can you sing or whistle?  There’s nothing like a good tune to help a quick march.”

“Yes; sing up, Wilks,” cried The Cavalry; and the dominie started “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” in which the others joined, the detective in a soft falsetto, indistinguishable from a half-cultivated woman’s voice.  He was combining business with pleasure, dissimulation with outward praise.

“Pretty good that for a blooming young lady of five foot ten,” remarked Mr. Nash, at the end of the hymn.

“Blooming young ladies with a tonsure,” replied Coristine, gazing on the detective’s momentarily uncovered head, “are open to suspicion.”

“Wait till you see my hair.” chuckled the ex-priest.

The mile and a-half was soon covered, and the trio stood before a roomy farm-house.  A boy, not unlike Tommy, but better dressed, was swinging on the gate, and him the detective asked if he could see Miss Du Plessis on important business.  The boy ran into the house to enquire, and came back to the gate, accompanied by the lady in question.  She changed colour as her eye took in The Cavalry, immovable as a life guardsman on sentry.  The detective handed her his professional card, and explained that he and his two friends had been entrusted with the duty of protecting her property and herself.  “You need have no doubts, Miss Du Plessis, for the Squire, as a J.P., knows me perfectly,” he continued.

“I have no fear, Mr. Nash,” answered the lady, in a pleasant voice, with just a suspicion of a foreign accent; “your name is known to me, and you are in good company.”

Wilkinson, standing by his friend’s stirrup, heard this last statement, and blushed, while The Cavalry thought he had heard a voice like that before.

“Has Mr. Rawdon seen you, or have you seen him?” asked the detective.

“Neither; but the two Marjories have been here, and have told me about him.  They do not seem to admire Mr. Rawdon.”

“The darlins!” ejaculated the lawyer; whereupon Wilkinson pinched his leg, and made him cry “Owch!”

The rest of the conversation between the plotters at the gate was inaudible.  At its conclusion, the lady’s face was beaming with amusement.

“Give me that bundle for Miss Du Plessis,” said Nash to Coristine, who lifted his hat to her, and handed the parcel over.

“Now, for instructions,” continued the commander-in-chief.  “The Cavalry will go to Bridesdale, that’s Squire Carruthers’ place, and keep Mr. Rawdon from going to church, or bring him back if he has started, which isn’t likely.  This branch of the Service will also make sure that all children are out of the way somewhere, and inform older people, who may be about, that Miss Du Plessis is coming to the house during church time, and is very much altered by night-watching and sick-nursing, so that they need not express astonishment before Mr. Rawdon.  Fasten these knapsacks about you somehow, Horse-Doctor; put the beast up where he’ll get a drink and a feed; and go to church like a good Christian.  The Infantry will halt for the present, and afterwards act as Miss Du Plessis’ escort.  Infantry, attention!  Cavalry, form threes, trot!”