“Well, my lord,” he said, not waiting for the Earl of Byerdale to speak—­“I have got proof positive now, for I have been at Captain Churchill’s lodgings, pumping his servants, and they tell me that he was very ill all yesterday, as, indeed, I knew he was, and in bed the greater part of the day.”

“Indeed!” said the Earl.  “This is strange enough!  But as you say, Wilton, that you do not think it was really Captain Churchill, the name might be given merely as a nom de guerre, and the person giving it might be a very honest man, too.”

Before he could conclude, one of the servants announced that Captain Churchill waited without; and in a moment after he was admitted, presenting to Wilton’s eyes a person not very unlike in size and form the Duke of Berwick, and somewhat resembling him in countenance, but several years older, and somewhat darker in complexion.

He entered with a gay and smiling air, and with a grace of carriage and demeanour which was common to himself and his brother, afterwards the famous Duke of Marlborough.

“Why, my lord,” he said, advancing towards Lord Byerdale, and shaking him by the hand, “I am almost alarmed at your unexpected summons, especially after all the terrible doings which I hear have taken place.  Why, they tell me that the gates of Newgate have never ceased turning upon their hinges all the morning, and that the Tower itself is full.”

“Not quite so bad as that,” replied the Earl:  “but I am sure, my dear Captain, you have nothing to fear in such a matter.”

“Not that I know of,” answered Churchill, “and I would have come at once when you wrote; but, to say the truth, I was up late last night, and slept till nearly noon this morning.—­But, bless my soul!” he continued, turning towards Wilton—­to that gentleman’s utter surprise and astonishment “is not this my good friend, Mr. Wilton Brown, your lordship’s secretary?” and advancing a step or two, he shook Wilton heartily by the hand.

“How is the young lady?” he continued.  “I hope you got quite safe to London with your fair charge?”

The countenance of Arden, the Messenger, presented a ludicrous picture of disappointment and consternation.  Wilton was certainly even more surprised than himself; but he did not suffer his face to betray any expression of wonder, though, it must be owned, he felt a strong inclination to laugh.  He replied, however, calmly to Churchill’s question,—­

“I thank you very much, sir:  she got quite safe to London.  At an early hour this morning I left her with her father.”

“Then, Captain Churchill,” said the Earl, “you are neither more nor less than the person who rendered my young friend Wilton, here, such very good assistance last night.”

Churchill made a low and complimentary bow, replying, “Oh, my lord, you are too good!  The assistance that I rendered him was little enough, I can assure you.  His own gallantry and good conduct did much more than I could possibly do.—­But I hope and trust my good friend, Arden, the Messenger, there, is not waiting for me; for I can assure your lordship that, though I was upon a little frolic last night, which I might not very well like to have inquired into, it was certainly nothing of a Jacobitical nature, as you may well suppose, and as my good friend, Mr. Brown, here, can testify.”