One of these emissaries was now concealed, as we have stated, among the trees overhanging the glen. Without betraying himself, he got sufficiently near the party to hear their discourse, and soon learnt enough to convince him that the plainly attired, but distinguished-looking young man, whom he beheld, and to whom so much attention was paid by Charles Radclyffe and the rest, was no other than the Chevalier de Saint George.
As soon as he had clearly ascertained this point, he stole away, mounted his horse, which he had left in a thicket near the moor, and galloped off to convey the important information to Sir William Lorraine.
On reaching Bywell Park, he found the high sheriff anxiously expecting him, and called out:
“I have seen the Pretender, Sir William-seen him with my own eyes.”
“You are certain of it, Jesmond?”
“I saw him in the glen by the side of the Devil’s Water. He had a large party with him, and I heard several of ’em address him as ‘your majesty.'”
“Enough,” cried the high sheriff. “You have done your work well, Jesmond. But where have you left Hedgeley?”
“I’ve seen nothing of him since we got to Dilston, Sir William. He went to the castle, and I went to the grounds. I took the right course it appears, for I soon found the person I was looking for, and without asking any questions, or letting myself be seen.”
“I hope Hedgeley has not been seized as a spy,” said the high sheriff.
“If he has, he’ll tell nothing, Sir William. Don’t fear him. If you want to take the place by surprise to-morrow, you can do it. His lordship has taken no precautions. With half a dozen mounted men I could have taken the Pretender prisoner myself, and have carried him off.”
“I wish you had done so, Jesmond,” laughed the high sheriff. “It would have saved me the trouble of getting a party of men together. I must set about the task without delay. You think all will be safe at Dilston till to-morrow?”
“Not a doubt about it, Sir William. Lord Derwentwater’s guests seem to be amusing themselves. I think-from what I overheard-that his lordship has a grand banquet to-day. Certainly, some festivities are taking place at the castle.”
“It would be a pity to disturb them,” said the high sheriff. “To-morrow I will present myself at the castle with sufficient force to render all resistance useless.”
Hedgeley, the emissary to Dilston, had not fared so well as his comrade. Stopped at the gate, and unable to explain his business entirely to the porter’s satisfaction, he was locked up in a strong room for the night. This was done by Colonel Oxburgh’s order, who chanced to be in the court at the time, and interrogated him. Except detention, the spy had nothing to complain of, for he had plenty to eat and drink.
Jesmond had correctly informed the high sheriff, when he told him that a grand dinner would be given that day at the castle. A vast deal of handsome plate was displayed at the banquet, which was far more agreeable to the noble host than the dinner of the previous day, since it was graced by the presence of his affianced bride, who now sat next to him, and looked more charming than ever, being beautifully dressed, and in high spirits. The prince was likewise in a very lively mood, and contributed to the general gaiety at the upper end of the table.
In the evening there was music in the grand saloon, which was brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. Anna produced a great effect, and her magnificent voice enraptured the prince as much as it had enraptured Lord Derwentwater when he first heard it.
Very different in style, but equally effective in their way, were some simple ditties sung with great taste and feeling by Dorothy Forster.
As we have intimated, the prince was in a very gay humour and seemed to take no thought of the morrow-though that morrow had much in store for him. He talked lightly with Anna and Dorothy, laughed and jested with Sir John Webb, Colonel Oxburgh, and Forster, but he talked seriously with no one.