“The master wishes to speak to you, Master Carstairs.”

“No ill news, I hope, Charlie?” Mr. Jervoise asked anxiously, as the lad was shown into the room, where his host was standing beside the carved chimney piece.

“No, sir, there is nothing new.  My father thought that I had better be away today, in case any trouble should arise out of what took place yesterday, so I rode over to see Harry.  I promised to do so, one day this week.”

“That is right.  Does Sir Marmaduke think, then, that he will be arrested?”

“I don’t know that he expects it, sir, but he says that it is possible.”

“I do not see that they have anything to go upon, Charlie.  As we agreed last night, that spy never had any opportunity of overhearing us before, and, certainly, he can have heard nothing yesterday.  The fellow can only say what many people know, or could know, if they liked; that half a dozen of Sir Marmaduke’s friends rode over to take supper with him.  They can make nothing out of that.”

“No, sir; and my father said that, at the worst, it could be but the matter of a fine.”

“Quite so, lad; but I don’t even see how it could amount to that.  You will find Harry somewhere about the house.  He has said nothing to me about going out.”

Harry Jervoise was just the same age as Charlie, and was his greatest friend.  They were both enthusiastic in the cause of the Stuarts, equally vehement in their expressions of contempt for the Dutch king, equally anxious for the coming of him whom they regarded as their lawful monarch.  They spent the morning together, as usual; went first to the stables and patted and talked to their horses; then they played at bowls on the lawn; after which, they had a bout of sword play; and, having thus let off some of their animal spirits, sat down and talked of the glorious times to come, when the king was to have his own again.

Late in the afternoon, Charlie mounted his horse and rode for home.  When within half a mile of the house, a man stepped out into the road in front of him.

“Hullo, Banks, what is it?  No bad news, I hope?”

And he leapt from his horse, alarmed at the pallor of the old butler’s face.

“Yes, Master Charles, I have some very bad news, and have been waiting for the last two hours here, so as to stop you going to the house.”

“Why shouldn’t I go to the house?”

“Because there are a dozen soldiers, and three or four constables there.”

“And my father?”

“They have taken him away.”

“This is bad news, Banks; but I know that he thought that it might be so.  But it will not be very serious; it is only a question of a fine,” he said.

The butler shook his head, sadly.

“It is worse than that, Master Charles.  It is worse than you think.”

“Well, tell me all about it, Banks,” Charlie said, feeling much alarmed at the old man’s manner.