“One moment, sir,” said the Duke, stopping him as he was going:  “have I not seen your face before?”

“Long ago, sir, long ago,” replied the Captain.  “I had the honour of commanding a troop, sir, in your regiment, during all that sad business in Ireland—­Byerly is my name.”

“I remember you well, sir,” said the Duke, “and your good services.  Should we meet in France, I may be able to repay them—­especially if your views are still of a military kind.”

Byerly bowed his head, without reply, but looked much gratified; and while lie proceeded to look for Plessis, the Duke once more turned to the Lady Helen.

“I am sorry,” he said, “to hear, from your account, madam, that an accident has happened to Miss Villars.  I have been so long absent from St. Germain myself, that it is not very long since I heard of her father’s death.  May I inquire if she is seriously hurt? for I should apprehend that, after what has occurred, persons holding our opinions would run considerable risks in this country, and be subjected to a persecution even more severe than heretofore.”

The Lady Helen replied simply that her young friend was seriously hurt, and could not be removed; but she avoided carefully all reference to the nature of the injury she had received.  The Duke then turned the conversation to indifferent subjects, spoke cheerfully and gaily with Lady Laura and Wilton, and showed that calm sort of equanimity in circumstances of danger and difficulty which is partly a gift of nature, and partly an acquisition wrung from many perils and evils endured.  Ere long, Byerly returned with Plessis, and food and wine were speedily procured.  The tables were set in order, and the Duke remained for about a quarter of an hour refreshing himself; while Wilton and the two ladies continued to converse with him, delaying their departure at his request, lest any of the more unscrupulous conspirators should still be lingering in the neighbourhood.

Plessis, however, was evidently uneasy; and he did not scruple at length to express his fear, that amongst all the events of that night, something might have happened to call the attention of the world at large upon what was going on in his dwelling.

Wilton’s apprehensions, in regard to the Duke, were somewhat of the same nature; for he remembered that Arden, the Messenger, whom he now knew to be a thorough coward, had fled at the beginning of the whole business, and would most likely return accompanied by as large a force as he could raise in the neighbourhood.

These fears he failed not to communicate to the Duke of Berwick; but that nobleman looked up with a gay smile, replying, “My good sir, my horse can go no farther.  I rode one to death yesterday, and this one, which I bought in London, is already knocked up:  if I must be caught like a rat in a rat-trap, as well here as anywhere.”

“But will it not be better,” said Wilton, “to accompany me and the Lady Laura to High Halstow, where you can instantly procure a horse?  We must proceed thither on foot.  I suppose you are not likely to be known in this part of the country, and my being with you may shield you from some danger.”