him?"

"Just this, Tom, if there is another person in the world who knows of
my Lord Medhurst's present hiding-place 'tis Mr. Dalroyd and if there
is one man in the world I do not trust it is--Mr. Dalroyd."

The Viscount sat down, swallowed a glass of wine and stared blankly at
the toe of his dusty riding-boot.

"Why then, sir," said he at last, "this makes it but the more
imperative to have Charles away at once. I must get him over to my
place in Sussex, 'tis quiet there, sir--God! I must contrive it one
way or another and the sooner the better, but how sir, how?"

"'None may give aid or shelter to the King's enemies on pain of death,'
Tom," quoted the Major, gently.

The Viscount flicked a patch of dust from the skirts of his coat.

"Sir," said he, "Charles is my friend!"

"And--my lady's brother, Tom!"

"Perfectly, sir! I shall endeavour to get him to my Sussex place and
hide him there until I have arranged for him to cross safely into
France."

"Precisely, Tom!"

"The question is--how? All the coast-roads are watched of course!"
said the Viscount in deep perplexity. "Ben would help, so would Alton
or Alvaston but 'twould be asking them to put their heads in a noose
and I can't do it, sir!"

"Certainly not, Tom! 'Tis an awkward posture of affairs and--therefore
you may--er--count upon my aid to the very uttermost, of course."

The Viscount took out his snuff-box, tapped it, opened it, and shut it
up again.

"Uncle," said he at last, "nunky--sir--" suddenly he rose and caught
the Major's hand, gripping it hard: "Gad prasper me sir, I think--yes I
think, I'd better--step upstairs and rid me of some o' this Kentish
dust."

As he spoke the Viscount turned and strode from the room leaving the
Major deep in anxious thought.

CHAPTER XXV

IN WHICH THE GHOST IS LAID

My Lady Elizabeth Carlyon, seated upon a rickety chair among a pile of
other lumber high under the eaves, kicked her pretty heels for very
triumph as she watched the tatterdemalion eat and drink the dainty meal
she had just set before him.

"O Charles--'tis all so vastly romantic!" she exclaimed.

My Lord of Medhurst, chancing to have his mouth rather full, spluttered
and lifted handsome head indignantly; thus the likeness to his twin
sister was manifest, the same delicate profile and regularity of
features, bright, fearless eyes and firm set of mouth and chin, the
same proud and lofty carriage of the head.

"Romantic be