low out the clew of beads, though without
much hope of any good result. Of the three in his possession he kept
one, and one he sent to Edinburgh, and the third to York, having heard
of the great sagacity, vigor, and strict integrity of Mr. Mordacks, all
of which he sharpened by the promise of a large reward upon discovery.
Then he went back to his work, until his time of leave was due, after
twenty years of arduous and distinguished service. In troublous times,
no private affairs, however urgent, should drive him from his post.

Now, eager as he was when in England once again, he was true to his
character and the discipline of life. He had proof that the matter was
in very good hands, and long command had taught him the necessity of
obedience. Any previous Yordas would have kicked against the pricks,
rushed forward, and scattered everything. But Sir Duncan was now of a
different fibre. He left York at once, as Mordacks advised, and posted
to Yarmouth, before the roads were blocked with snow, and while Jack o'
the Smithies was returning to his farm. And from Yarmouth he set sail
for Scarborough, in a sturdy little coaster, which he hired by the week.
From Scarborough he would run down to Bridlington--not too soon,
for fear of setting gossip going, but in time to meet Mordacks at
Flamborough, as agreed upon.

That gentleman had other business in hand, which must not be neglected;
but he gave to this matter a very large share of his time, and paid
five-and-twenty pounds for the trusty roadster, who liked the taste of
Flamborough pond, and the salt air on the oats of Widow Tapsy's stable,
and now regularly neighed and whisked his tail as soon as he found
himself outside Monk Bar. By favor of this horse and of his own sword
and pistols, Mordacks spent nearly as much time now at Flamborough as
he did in York; but unluckily he had been obliged to leave on the
very afternoon before the run was accomplished, and Carroway slain so
wickedly; for he hurried home to meet Sir Duncan, and had not heard the
bad news when he met him.

That horrible murder was a sad blow to him, not only as a man of
considerable kindness and desire to think well of every one--so far as
experience allows it--but also because of the sudden apparition of the
law rising sternly in front of him. Justice in those days was not as
now: her truer name was Nemesis. After such an outrage to the dignity of
the realm, an example must be made, without much considera