“Such an occurrence, were it to take place, would not trouble me much,” Stelfax rejoined. “But I have no personal animosity to Colonel Maunsel, who, though an inveterate malignant, is a brave man, and I should be loth to abridge the little life left him. I will, therefore, consent to leave him undisturbed if a hostage be given me for his surrender in the event of recovery.”
“What hostage do you require, sir?” demanded Mr. Beard, quickly. “I am of little account, as compared with my honoured patron. Yet, peradventure, I may suffice.”
“Not alone, sir,” Stelfax replied. “I must have your daughter as well.”
“Accede not to the proposition, my good friend,” Colonel Maunsel observed, faintly. “Above all, place not Dulcia in this man’s power. Let him take me. What are a few hours more of wretched existence to a sufferer like myself? Better—far better! they were ended!”
“It must not be so, father,” Dulcia interposed. “Since hostages are required, who so fitting as we, who owe all to our generous protector?”
“You are right, my child,” said Mr. Beard. “The course we ought to pursue is manifest. We will go.”
“I will not consent to this,” cried Colonel Maunsel. “Dulcia may be taken to the Castle, and placed in its dungeons or in the martyr-cells beneath the White Hart, which have of late, as I understand, been put to their former use. Such barbarity shall never be practised if I can hinder it.”
“I have no design to place either Mr. Beard or his daughter in actual durance, unless compelled, Colonel Maunsel,” replied Stelfax. “All I require is to have them in safe custody. They may choose a lodging where they will in Lewes.”
“Promise me that, on your honour as soldier, and I am content,” rejoined the old Cavalier. “If I am ever able to leave this couch, I will deliver myself up to you, and then their immediate release must follow. Meantime, I consider myself your prisoner on parole.”
“Enough, sir,” rejoined Stelfax. “You have the promise you require from me.”
The old Cavalier then addressed himself to Mr. Beard, and looking anxiously at him, said,
“Use my name with Master Zachary Trangmar of the Priory House, and I doubt not he will provide you and Dulcia with a lodging.”
“What! the old usurer of Mock-Beggar Hall!” exclaimed Stelfax. “I know him. He has rooms enow, and to spare; but I doubt if much furniture will be found within them.”
“There will be sufficient for us if we obtain shelter,” replied the good clergyman, fearing lest some fresh difficulty should be thrown in the way of an arrangement which he thought beneficial to his patron. “My daughter and myself will but make a few needful preparations, and we shall then be ready to attend you.”
Patty Whinchat here emerged from the corner into which she had retreated on the entrance of the Ironside captain, and besought his permission to accompany her young mistress, which was readily accorded her. Telling Mr. Beard that he should set forth in half an hour, Stelfax bowed a stiff adieu to the old Cavalier, and, quitting the room, strode down the grand staircase to the entrance-hall, where he found Delves awaiting orders.
Meantime, the good clergyman and his daughter bade farewell—it might be, from the sad state in which they left him, an eternal valediction—to their kindly patron; Mr. Beard invoking blessing on the worthy gentleman’s head, and praying Heaven to spare him; and Dulcia, who was drowned in tears, bending to receive the colonel’s benediction. This parting over, their place was supplied by Martin Geere, whose devotion to his master left no doubt that the old Cavalier would be carefully tended by him.
In allowing Colonel Maunsel to remain at his own house a prisoner on parole, and taking Mr. Beard and his daughter as hostages for the old Cavalier’s surrender in case of recovery, Stelfax was influenced by other motives than those which he allowed to appear. Under such an arrangement, Clavering Maunsel and his friends were not unlikely, he judged, to pay a secret visit to the Grange, and might—were due vigilance observed—be recaptured; while, by withdrawing Dulcia from her present asylum, he would have her altogether in his power. Not wishing to alarm her and Mr. Beard too much in the first instance, he had proposed a lodging in the town, and was well pleased when the colonel mentioned old Zachary Trangmar, in whom he felt sure a ready instrument would be found. Such were some of the motives that influenced him; but he might have others, for his designs were dark and inscrutable. But while abandoning Ovingdean Grange, Stelfax deemed it necessary that careful watch should be kept over the house, and no one appeared to him—for reasons which he scarcely liked to acknowledge to himself—to be so well qualified for the office of a spy as the person who had recently outmanœuvred him—namely, Increase Micklegift. But where was he to be found? Little expecting friendly overtures from the man he had injured, but dreading his vengeance, the Independent minister had fled. Stelfax questioned Delves about Micklegift, and the sergeant replied that there was in the village an elder named Morefruit Stone, who he thought might be able to communicate with the fugitive minister. Stelfax immediately caught at the suggestion, and said: