Stelfax was not so much alarmed as his subordinate, for it did not occur to him as possible that Delves could be the dupe of a stratagem. Something, however, was wrong, and must be promptly rectified. He therefore hurried downstairs, with the intention of repairing to the church, but, on gaining the entrance-hall, found it invaded by a tumultuous assemblage of the household, who had flocked thither on hearing the bell toll, and two or three minutes were spent in their dispersion. But this being accomplished, he left a small guard in the hall, as well to watch over the prisoner, who was confined in a little room adjacent to the library, as to keep the household in order, and then went forth with the rest of his troop.
Meanwhile, a trumpet had more than once been sounded outside to recall the men supposed to be gone to the stables; but no notice was taken of the summons. When informed of this circumstance, Stelfax was exceedingly wroth, and dispatched Nathan Guestling to the stables, commanding the instant return of the offenders. A further interruption to his progress occurred at the gate. A posse of villagers, only partially attired, and armed with such weapons as came readiest to hand, was here congregated, anxious to learn the cause of the disturbance. Distrusting these hinds, Stelfax peremptorily ordered them to return to their dwellings, threatening to fire upon them if they hesitated to comply. Intimidated by the menace, the poor fellows retired, while the Ironside captain and his men pursued their way to the church. The torches having been left burning by the fugitive Royalists when they quitted their temporary prison, the light of the flambeaux was dimly distinguishable through the windows as Stelfax passed through the churchyard; but nothing, as yet, had occurred to rouse his suspicions. His surprise and rage, however, may be conceived when his thundering knock at the church door, which he found looked, remained unanswered. Violently shaking the door, he endeavoured by main strength to burst it open, and, aided by his men, he speedily accomplished his object. A scene then lay before him so startling and extraordinary, that he could scarcely believe in its reality.
His astonishment and stupefaction, however, soon gave way to fury. Snatching a torch, he threw its light upon the prostrate forms of Delves and Besadaiah, and then commanded that the handkerchiefs should be taken from their mouths, but that the cords with which they were bound should not be unloosed.
“How is this, sergeant?” he demanded in a severe voice, as the order was obeyed. “How comes it that I find thee thus?”
Delves gave utterance to a groan, but made no other reply.
“How hast thou fulfilled thine office?” continued Stelfax, with increased severity. “Where are the captives committed to thy charge?”
“Gone, captain—all gone!” groaned Delves, in a tone of deep contrition. “They have escaped from me. I will not attempt to extenuate my conduct. I have been guilty of gross neglect.”
“Soh! thou dost confess it!—ha!” exclaimed Stelfax, with concentrated fury. “Negligent and disobedient dog, thou deservest that I should pistol thee without grace allowed for prayer.”
“Dispatch me, captain, without pity,” the sergeant rejoined. “I deserve to die. You cannot be more angered with me than I am with myself. Were I to live a hundred years, instead of only so many seconds, I should never regain my own good opinion. To think that I, who have been signalled out for public commendation by the Lord General himself—who have been deemed worthy of your confidence, captain–who prided myself upon strictness of discipline, and blind obedience to the orders of my superior, that I should have failed on all points!—it is too much—it is more than I can bear. Place your pistol at my head, and finish me.”
“No,” rejoined Stelfax; “I will not forestal the provost-marshal’s office. Grievously am I disappointed in thee, O Deodatus Delves!—shamefully hast thou betrayed thy trust! But how came the matter to pass? It passeth my comprehension to understand how thou and thy comrades could be overcome and bound by so few. Ye would almost seem to have proffered your limbs to the fetters of the enemy.”