“I am quite ready,” replied Wilton; and turning to the door, he and Green left the house together, while those who remained behind, immediately they were gone, gathered into two or three little knots, discussing the scene which had just taken place.

In the meantime, Green led Wilton into St. James’s Square, the centre of which was not at that time enclosed, as now, by iron railings; and walking to and fro there, he demanded eagerly what was the matter, and heard with surprise all that his young companion had to tell him of the sudden disappearance of the Duke’s daughter, of which he had previously received no intelligence.

We need not recapitulate the whole of Wilton’s account to the reader; but will only add, to that which is already known, one fact of some importance with which the young gentleman concluded the detail of his inquiries during that very day.

“When I arrived at Beaufort House,” he said, “fully and painfully impressed with the notion that this poor young lady was drowned, I was met by the Duke at the very door of his library with a letter in his hand.  His eyes were full of tears of joy, for the news of a boat having been lost had, by this time, reached him; and the letter, which was dated from a distant part of the country, informed him of his daughter’s safety, in these words:-’Lady Laura Gaveston will be restored to Beaufort House as soon as her father can make up his mind to behave with spirit and patriotism, and follow out the only plans which can save his country.  This must be done by actions, not by words; but a positive engagement under his hand will be considered sufficient.  In the meantime, she remains a hostage for his good faith.’  At the bottom was written, in a hand which he says is that of Lady Laura herself—­’My dear father, I am well; but this is all they will let me write.’”

“Whence was it dated?” demanded Green sharply.

“Newbury,” replied Wilton; “and the letter was brought by a person who spoke with a foreign accent.”

“This is strange,” said Green:  “I should think it was some of that troop of—­I know not well whether to call them villains or madmen.  I should think some of them had done this, were it not that I had seen them all—­I may say all the principal ones—­last night, and they certainly had not a woman with them then.”

“The Duke’s suspicions turn principally upon Sir John Fenwick,” said Wilton.

“It could not well be him,” replied Green:  “he was there, and none but men with him.  It is very strange!  I wish I could see that letter.  Perhaps I might recognise the hand.”

“That is evidently feigned,” answered Wilton; “but I should think the date of Newbury must be false, too.”

“To be sure, to be sure,” replied Green—­“the exact reverse most likely.  They must have taken her towards the sea, not inland—­Newbury!—­More likely towards Rochester or Sheerness; yet I can’t think there was any woman there.  Yet stay a minute, Wilton,” he continued, “stay a minute.  I expect tidings to-night, from the very house at which I met them last night.  There is a chance, a bare chance, of there being something on this matter in the letters; it is worth while to see, however.  Where can I find you in ten minutes from this time ?-I saw the boy waiting near the palace when we came out.”