The next day at eleven o’clock the young men, dressed in their best attire, called at the duke’s.  They were informed that the great man was at home, and would be as likely to see them then as at any other hour.  Accordingly they entered, and were shown into an anteroom, and sent their names in by a footman.  He returned with a request that they would follow him, and were shown into a library, where a singularly handsome man, in the prime of life, was sitting at a desk.  He looked at them in some surprise.

“Is there not some mistake, young gentlemen?” he asked.  “My servant gave the names as Captain Jervoise, and Captain Carstairs.  I do not recall the names as those of officers in her majesty’s service.”

“No, my lord, we have the honour to be captains in the service of King Charles of Sweden, as this document, signed both by his minister, Count Piper, and by the king himself, will testify.”

The duke took the paper, and read it.

“The king of Sweden speaks very highly of you both, gentlemen,” he said cordially.  “It is no mean credit to have gained such warm praise from the greatest general of his time.  What can I do for you?  Do you wish to be transferred from the service of Sweden to that of her majesty?  We have need of good officers, and I can promise that you shall receive the same rank that you now hold, and it is likely that, before long, you will have an opportunity of seeing some service under your national flag.”

“I thank you warmly for your kindness, my lord, but it is not with that view that we have now come to you, though I am sure that we both should prefer to fight under our own flag, rather than under that of a foreign king, however kindly he may be disposed to us, personally.  We have called upon a private matter, and I am the bearer of this letter from my father, who had once the honour of your lordship’s friendship.”

“Jervoise,” the duke repeated, as he took the letter.  “Not Mat Jervoise, surely?”

“That is my father’s name, sir.”

“Do I remember him?  Why, he was one of my closest friends when I was a lad, and I once stayed with him at his father’s place, for a fortnight, on a journey I took to the north.  But I will read his letter—­

“What changes happen,” he said, as he laid it down.  “To think that Mat Jervoise should be an exile, his old home in the hands of strangers, and he a major in the Swedish service; and that I should never have heard a word about it!

“Well, young sir,” and he held out his hand to Harry, “I can promise you my aid and protection, to the utmost, in whatever matter you may be concerned.  I seem to remember the name of your companion, too.”

“His father, Sir Marmaduke, was a neighbour of ours.  There has always been great friendship between the two families.”

“Of course, I remember him now.  He was some fifteen or twenty years older than your father.  I remember that I went over with your father and grandfather, and dined at his place.  He is still alive and well, I hope?”