e looking out from this window in gloomy discourse, we heard
presently trumpets blowing, and some of us ran to the window of the
front-room, looking into the High Street of Kensington, and saw a
regiment of Horse coming.

"It's Ormonde's Guards," says one.

"No, by God, it's Argyle's old regiment!" says my General, clapping down
his crutch.

It was, indeed, Argyle's regiment that was brought from Westminster,
and that took the place of the regiment at Kensington on which we could
rely.

"Oh, Harry!" says one of the generals there present, "you were born
under an unlucky star; I begin to think that there's no Mr. George, nor
Mr. Dragon either. 'Tis not the peerage I care for, for our name is so
ancient and famous, that merely to be called Lord Lydiard would do me no
good; but 'tis the chance you promised me of fighting Marlborough."

As we were talking, Castlewood entered the room with a disturbed air.

"What news, Frank?" says the Colonel. "Is Mr. George coming at last?"

"Damn him, look here!" says Castlewood, holding out a paper. "I found
it in the book--the what you call it, 'Eikum Basilikum,'--that villain
Martin put it there--he said his young mistress bade him. It was
directed to me, but it was meant for him I know, and I broke the seal
and read it."

The whole assembly of officers seemed to swim away before Esmond's eyes
as he read the paper; all that was written on it was:--"Beatrix Esmond
is sent away to prison, to Castlewood, where she will pray for happier
days."

"Can you guess where he is?" says Castlewood.

"Yes," says Colonel Esmond. He knew full well, Frank knew full well: our
instinct told whither that traitor had fled.

He had courage to turn to the company and say, "Gentlemen, I fear
very much that Mr. George will not be here to-day; something hath
happened--and--and--I very much fear some accident may befall him, which
must keep him out of the way. Having had your noon's draught, you had
best pay the reckoning and go home; there can be no game where there is
no one to play it."

Some of the gentlemen went away without a word, others called to pay
their duty to her Majesty and ask for her health. The little army
disappeared into the darkness out of which it had been called; there had
been no writings, no paper to implicate any man. Some few officers and
Members of Parliament had been invited over night to breakfast at the
"King's Arms," at Kensington; and they had called for their bill