lodging is, at an
hour's drive westward from the Rhine-shore:--where his Majesty quitted
the River, I do not know; nor whether the Crown-Prince went to Mors with
him, or waited in his Yacht; but guess the latter. His Majesty intends
for Geldern on the morrow, on matters of business thither, for the Town
is his: but what would the Prince, in the present state of things,
do there?--At Mors, Seckendorf found means to address his Majesty
privately, and snuffled into him suggestions of mercy to the repentant
Prince, and to the poor Officers whom he was so anxious about. "Well, if
he WILL confess everything, and leave off his quirks and concealments:
but I know he won't!" answered Majesty.

In that dilapidated Castle of Mors,--look at it, reader, though in the
dark; we may see it again, or the shadow of it, perhaps by moonlight.
A very gaunt old Castle; next to nothing living in it, since the old
Dessauer (by stratagem, and without shot fired) flung out the Dutch, in
the Treaty-of-Utrecht time; Mors Castle and Territory being indisputably
ours, though always withheld from us on pretexts. [Narrative of the
march thither (Night of 7th November, 1712), and dexterous surprisal of
the place, in _Leopoldi von Anhalt-Dessau Leben und Thaten_ (Anonymous,
by RANFFT), pp. 85-90;--where the Despatch of the astonished Dutch
Commandant himself, to their High Mightinesses, is given. Part of
the Orange Heritage, this Mors,--came by the Great Elector's first
Wife;--but had hung SUB LITE (though the Parchments were plain enough)
ever since our King William's death, and earlier. Neuchatel, accepted
instead of ORANGE, and not even of the value of Mors, was another item
of the same lot. Besides which, we shall hear of old Palaces at Loo and
other dilapidated objects, incidentally in time coming.]

At Geldern, in the pressure of business next day, his Majesty got word
from Wesel, that Lieutenant Keith was not now to be found in Wesel.
"Was last seen there (that we can hear of) certain hours before your
Majesty's All-gracious Order arrived. Had saddled his own horse; came
ambling through the Brunen Gate, 'going out to have a ride,' he said;
and did not return."--"Keith gone, scandalous Keith, whom I pardoned
only few weeks ago; he too is in the Plot! Will the very Army break
its oath, then?" His Majesty bursts into fire and flame, at these new
tidings; orders that Colonel Dumoulin (our expertest rogue-tracer) go
instantly on the scent of Keith,