Again Esmond went to the curate’s house.  Mr. Bates had not returned.  The Colonel had to go with this blank errand to the gentlemen at the “King’s Arms,” that were grown very impatient by this time.

Out of the window of the tavern, and looking over the garden wall, you can see the green before Kensington Palace, the Palace gate (round which the Ministers’ coaches were standing), and the barrack building.  As we were looking out from this window in gloomy discourse, we heard presently trumpets blowing, and some of us ran to the window of the front-room, looking into the High Street of Kensington, and saw a regiment of Horse coming.

“It’s Ormonde’s Guards,” says one.

“No, by God, it’s Argyle’s old regiment!” says my General, clapping down his crutch.

It was, indeed, Argyle’s regiment that was brought from Westminster, and that took the place of the regiment at Kensington on which we could rely.

“Oh, Harry!” says one of the generals there present, “you were born under an unlucky star; I begin to think that there’s no Mr. George, nor Mr. Dragon either.  ’Tis not the peerage I care for, for our name is so ancient and famous, that merely to be called Lord Lydiard would do me no good; but ’tis the chance you promised me of fighting Marlborough.”

As we were talking, Castlewood entered the room with a disturbed air.

“What news, Frank?” says the Colonel.  “Is Mr. George coming at last?”

“Damn him, look here!” says Castlewood, holding out a paper.  “I found it in the book—­the what you call it, ’Eikum Basilikum,’—­that villain Martin put it there—­he said his young mistress bade him.  It was directed to me, but it was meant for him I know, and I broke the seal and read it.”

The whole assembly of officers seemed to swim away before Esmond’s eyes as he read the paper; all that was written on it was:—­“Beatrix Esmond is sent away to prison, to Castlewood, where she will pray for happier days.”

“Can you guess where he is?” says Castlewood.

“Yes,” says Colonel Esmond.  He knew full well, Frank knew full well:  our instinct told whither that traitor had fled.

He had courage to turn to the company and say, “Gentlemen, I fear very much that Mr. George will not be here to-day; something hath happened—­and—­and—­I very much fear some accident may befall him, which must keep him out of the way.  Having had your noon’s draught, you had best pay the reckoning and go home; there can be no game where there is no one to play it.”

Some of the gentlemen went away without a word, others called to pay their duty to her Majesty and ask for her health.  The little army disappeared into the darkness out of which it had been called; there had been no writings, no paper to implicate any man.  Some few officers and Members of Parliament had been invited over night to breakfast at the “King’s Arms,” at Kensington; and they had called for their bill and gone home.