Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Thirteen.A Reprimand.Godfrey, as it happened, had time for his excitement to calm down, for, after listening intently for Waller’s foot upon the last flight of stairs, one of which always gave out a now familiar crack, he found that he had allowed his imagination to invent, for he had not heard his companion coming up. In fact, a good ten minutes elapsed, during which the silence was profound, and, growing hotter than ever, lying there beneath the clothes, fully dressed, and after going through a great deal of exertion, the listener half raised himself to get out, either to undress or to sit down calmly and wait.He was hesitating which to do, when there now came that unmistakable crack which made him nestle down in the bed again, and draw the clothes to his chin, just as there was the sharp rattle of the key in the door. This was flung open, and Waller sprang in, to dash through the darkness and thrust his head out of the window and look down into the gloom beneath. Drawing back directly, he faced inwards.“Godfrey,” he whispered sharply, “where are you? Are you there?”There was no reply.“Do you hear?” whispered Waller, a little more loudly. “Where are you? What have you been up to?”Still no reply, and the boy crossed quickly to place his hand upon the bed, and say, in an excited whisper as if relieved by what he had found—“Oh, you are here. I thought you had gone. You can’t be asleep. Why don’t you speak? There,” he cried, loudly now, “you are shamming!” For his hands had been travelling over the clothes. “Why, you are dressed! There, out you come!” And catching hold of the coverlet, he stripped everything right down to the foot.Startled at this unexpected action, Godfrey sprang up, and, with hands rapidly following the gliding clothes, he seized them, threw himself back, and dragged them up to his chin again.“There, I knew you were shamming! What game have you been up to?”“Eh? What?” faltered the lad, trying to speak as if he were confused. “Is anything the matter? Have the soldiers come?”“No,” cried Waller hotly, “but I have. There, it’s no use to try and keep up that sham. What have you been doing? You may just as well confess. There, you have got your boots on, too. You have not been doing that for nothing.”“What do you mean?”“That you are trying to hide something, and you only got into bed to hide it when you heard me coming. What have you been doing?”“What have I been doing?”“Yes. I know.”Godfrey was silent.“I did trust you. Thought you wouldn’t attempt to do anything without confiding in me. You have been trying to do, something with the rope.”“Well,” said Godfrey sourly, “suppose I have! What then? And how did you know?”“How did I know? Why, I was just taking a walk round outside, and I thought I’d have a look up at your window, and I don’t know how it was, but I seemed to have a fancy that you had been striking a light, and had got a candle burning; and that meant for one of the servants to see, perhaps Joe Hanson, when they all knew that I was downstairs. You didn’t do such a mad thing, did you?”“No, of course not,” said Godfrey sulkily.“Then what did you do?”“What do you mean?”“What do I mean? What made you throw a rope out of the window so that the end of it hit me right across the head? What rope was it? How came you by it? Oh!” The boy dashed to the great press, pulled out one of the lower drawers, and thrust in his hand. “I thought so! You have been getting out that coil to fasten it to the window, and let it slip.”Godfrey was silent.“Do you know the end of that hit me right across the head when you dropped it?”Still no answer.“How I could have been so stupid as to let you see, I don’t know. Why, you meant to go off on the sly by yourself. Were you going to run right away?”“No,” replied Godfrey. “There, I’ll tell you. I couldn’t bear it any longer. It was so dreadful being shut up, and I only wanted to go and have a walk in the woods. I meant to come up again.”“And you let the rope slip, and lost it. Lucky for you. Do you know what it meant? You being strange to this place, and not knowing which way to go, either losing yourself in the dark, or else blundering into the village, where you would have been seen by some one. Why, the chances are that you would have blundered up against Joe Hanson, who generally goes round of a night seeing that the fowls are all right and no fox about after the ducks. I call it too bad, Godfrey, when I have been trying so hard to keep you safe until we can hear that the soldiers are gone. Now, I say, why don’t you confide in me as you should? Don’t you believe in me?”“Yes, thoroughly,” said Godfrey, sadly, as he stretched out his hand in Waller’s direction, touched him on the arm, and began to slide his fingers down till they touched his hand; but Waller shrank away.“You don’t trust me,” he said, “and I shan’t trust you.”“There, I’ll confess all about it,” said the lad, in a low, husky tone. “I know now it was half-mad of me, but I couldn’t bear the silence and loneliness any more. I felt that I must go and breathe the fresh night air somehow, and so I fastened the rope and slid down and went and had a walk. It was after I had got back again,” he continued hurriedly, feeling too shamefaced to relate all the facts, “that I threw the rope out of the window; and then you came up suddenly, and I felt so guilty that I pretended I had gone to bed.”“Just like a naughty little boy who knew that he had done something wrong,” said Waller bitterly. “I wouldn’t have believed that a young fellow like you, almost a man, would have acted like a child.”“Don’t be hard on me, Waller. You don’t know what I suffered. You can’t think what it is to be a prisoner like this.”“No, and I can’t think what made you act as you did. I can’t understand how you managed to climb up again. But why did you chuck the rope out of the window? You couldn’t have heard me coming then.”“No,” said Godfrey; and then it all came out.“Oh,” said Waller, “of course that was a white owl; but it was just as I told you. Old Joe does make a snoring sort of noise when he has been walking fast or mowing, and he was prowling round before he went back to the cottage, and looking to see if Bella had shut all the windows. He’s rather fond of catching her out in forgetting them, and then he comes and tells tales, and they quarrel. Joe has got pretty sharp eyes, and you must have sat there squat or else he’d have seen you. Well, I suppose I must forgive you, but you had a very narrow escape. Do you know what this means?”“Yes; as you say, that you will forgive me, and we are going to be friends again.”“Yes, but something more. That I must be up before daybreak, go to the tool-house for a rake, and smooth over your footsteps in the long bed under the windows, and after that, get up the old fir-tree and pull down the rope. I almost wonder that you didn’t break your neck. You must have been half-mad, old fellow.”“Yes,” said Godfrey, with a sigh, “I must indeed.”

Godfrey, as it happened, had time for his excitement to calm down, for, after listening intently for Waller’s foot upon the last flight of stairs, one of which always gave out a now familiar crack, he found that he had allowed his imagination to invent, for he had not heard his companion coming up. In fact, a good ten minutes elapsed, during which the silence was profound, and, growing hotter than ever, lying there beneath the clothes, fully dressed, and after going through a great deal of exertion, the listener half raised himself to get out, either to undress or to sit down calmly and wait.

He was hesitating which to do, when there now came that unmistakable crack which made him nestle down in the bed again, and draw the clothes to his chin, just as there was the sharp rattle of the key in the door. This was flung open, and Waller sprang in, to dash through the darkness and thrust his head out of the window and look down into the gloom beneath. Drawing back directly, he faced inwards.

“Godfrey,” he whispered sharply, “where are you? Are you there?”

There was no reply.

“Do you hear?” whispered Waller, a little more loudly. “Where are you? What have you been up to?”

Still no reply, and the boy crossed quickly to place his hand upon the bed, and say, in an excited whisper as if relieved by what he had found—

“Oh, you are here. I thought you had gone. You can’t be asleep. Why don’t you speak? There,” he cried, loudly now, “you are shamming!” For his hands had been travelling over the clothes. “Why, you are dressed! There, out you come!” And catching hold of the coverlet, he stripped everything right down to the foot.

Startled at this unexpected action, Godfrey sprang up, and, with hands rapidly following the gliding clothes, he seized them, threw himself back, and dragged them up to his chin again.

“There, I knew you were shamming! What game have you been up to?”

“Eh? What?” faltered the lad, trying to speak as if he were confused. “Is anything the matter? Have the soldiers come?”

“No,” cried Waller hotly, “but I have. There, it’s no use to try and keep up that sham. What have you been doing? You may just as well confess. There, you have got your boots on, too. You have not been doing that for nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“That you are trying to hide something, and you only got into bed to hide it when you heard me coming. What have you been doing?”

“What have I been doing?”

“Yes. I know.”

Godfrey was silent.

“I did trust you. Thought you wouldn’t attempt to do anything without confiding in me. You have been trying to do, something with the rope.”

“Well,” said Godfrey sourly, “suppose I have! What then? And how did you know?”

“How did I know? Why, I was just taking a walk round outside, and I thought I’d have a look up at your window, and I don’t know how it was, but I seemed to have a fancy that you had been striking a light, and had got a candle burning; and that meant for one of the servants to see, perhaps Joe Hanson, when they all knew that I was downstairs. You didn’t do such a mad thing, did you?”

“No, of course not,” said Godfrey sulkily.

“Then what did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? What made you throw a rope out of the window so that the end of it hit me right across the head? What rope was it? How came you by it? Oh!” The boy dashed to the great press, pulled out one of the lower drawers, and thrust in his hand. “I thought so! You have been getting out that coil to fasten it to the window, and let it slip.”

Godfrey was silent.

“Do you know the end of that hit me right across the head when you dropped it?”

Still no answer.

“How I could have been so stupid as to let you see, I don’t know. Why, you meant to go off on the sly by yourself. Were you going to run right away?”

“No,” replied Godfrey. “There, I’ll tell you. I couldn’t bear it any longer. It was so dreadful being shut up, and I only wanted to go and have a walk in the woods. I meant to come up again.”

“And you let the rope slip, and lost it. Lucky for you. Do you know what it meant? You being strange to this place, and not knowing which way to go, either losing yourself in the dark, or else blundering into the village, where you would have been seen by some one. Why, the chances are that you would have blundered up against Joe Hanson, who generally goes round of a night seeing that the fowls are all right and no fox about after the ducks. I call it too bad, Godfrey, when I have been trying so hard to keep you safe until we can hear that the soldiers are gone. Now, I say, why don’t you confide in me as you should? Don’t you believe in me?”

“Yes, thoroughly,” said Godfrey, sadly, as he stretched out his hand in Waller’s direction, touched him on the arm, and began to slide his fingers down till they touched his hand; but Waller shrank away.

“You don’t trust me,” he said, “and I shan’t trust you.”

“There, I’ll confess all about it,” said the lad, in a low, husky tone. “I know now it was half-mad of me, but I couldn’t bear the silence and loneliness any more. I felt that I must go and breathe the fresh night air somehow, and so I fastened the rope and slid down and went and had a walk. It was after I had got back again,” he continued hurriedly, feeling too shamefaced to relate all the facts, “that I threw the rope out of the window; and then you came up suddenly, and I felt so guilty that I pretended I had gone to bed.”

“Just like a naughty little boy who knew that he had done something wrong,” said Waller bitterly. “I wouldn’t have believed that a young fellow like you, almost a man, would have acted like a child.”

“Don’t be hard on me, Waller. You don’t know what I suffered. You can’t think what it is to be a prisoner like this.”

“No, and I can’t think what made you act as you did. I can’t understand how you managed to climb up again. But why did you chuck the rope out of the window? You couldn’t have heard me coming then.”

“No,” said Godfrey; and then it all came out.

“Oh,” said Waller, “of course that was a white owl; but it was just as I told you. Old Joe does make a snoring sort of noise when he has been walking fast or mowing, and he was prowling round before he went back to the cottage, and looking to see if Bella had shut all the windows. He’s rather fond of catching her out in forgetting them, and then he comes and tells tales, and they quarrel. Joe has got pretty sharp eyes, and you must have sat there squat or else he’d have seen you. Well, I suppose I must forgive you, but you had a very narrow escape. Do you know what this means?”

“Yes; as you say, that you will forgive me, and we are going to be friends again.”

“Yes, but something more. That I must be up before daybreak, go to the tool-house for a rake, and smooth over your footsteps in the long bed under the windows, and after that, get up the old fir-tree and pull down the rope. I almost wonder that you didn’t break your neck. You must have been half-mad, old fellow.”

“Yes,” said Godfrey, with a sigh, “I must indeed.”

Chapter Fourteen.The Search.Godfrey started up from a deep sleep, to see it was morning with the sun shining brightly, and that the birds were singing, while Waller was standing by his bedside smiling at him as he looked at him wonderingly, and apparently quite confused.“Come, old fellow, wake up,” said Waller. “I have been up two hours.”“Up two hours! I— there’s nothing wrong, is there?”“Wrong? No. You are always thinking some one’s coming after you. It’s all right.”“But I don’t understand,” said Godfrey.“Why, you don’t mean to say you’ve forgotten all about last night?”“Last night!” cried the lad, with a start.“Oh, I had forgotten. No; I was not quite awake. You have been up early to go and get that rope.”Waller pointed to the big, old easy chair.“Does seem like it, doesn’t it? There it is, all soaked with dew. I soon got it down, and I have been busy over the bed. You had trampled it terribly, and there were two great bits of ivy snapped off as well and lying there. I’ve made it pretty tidy, and there has been such a heavy due that your footprints on the grass, and those of Joe Hanson, going round the house, are pretty well taken out. They’ll be all right now, I think.”“Oh, thank you,” cried Godfrey, with a sigh; “but now, I suppose, I must give up all hope of going into the woods with you again.”“Nonsense! I only want you to wait till it’s sensible to go.”“Ah!” cried Godfrey. “I like to hear you talk so. Do you know, I was dreaming this morning about what you said the other day.”“What was that?”“About getting me down to Lymington, and on board a fishing-boat.”“And so I will.”“Thank you. Then we will start to-night.”“That we won’t!” cried Waller. “Stuff! Nonsense! I hear from our gardener that there are soldiers going about from place to place in the forest, and as likely as not we should run right up against them, for they would be sure to be keeping watch at night. You wait a bit, and as soon as I think it’s safe, and we have made all our plans, we will go. But don’t you be in such a hurry. You are company for me, and I am sure my father wouldn’t mind your staying on a while to get strong. I want to hear that the soldiers are gone, and then you will be like a visitor, and we will have a good time of it in the woods, fishing, and collecting, and one thing and another.”“No,” said the lad sadly; “England is no place for me. I must get back to France.”“You wait till you get better,” said Waller, “and you will talk differently.”“Oh, but I am putting you in such a false position. Your servants will be finding out that you have got me hidden here.”“They’d better!” cried Waller hotly. “What business is it of theirs? I am only answerable to my father.”“And what will he say to you when he knows what you have done?”“What will he say?” cried Waller enthusiastically. “He’ll say—he’ll say—I don’t know what,” and the boy stopped short.Another day elapsed, and Waller was chatting eagerly with his prisoner, and planning with him that they should steal out as soon as it was dusk, and go and have a ramble in the woods.“But it will be dark,” said Boyne wearily.“There,” cried Waller, “you are speaking as dumpily as you did when we first met. That means that you ought to be out in the fresh air. Of course it will be dark. No, it won’t, because there will be some moon to-night; and if it were dark it wouldn’t matter. There’s always something to hear, with the creatures in the forest hunting—owls, and stoats, and all sorts of night things. Why, I can find my way anywhere nearly in the forest of a night. You don’t know what fun it is till you get out there. I have been out with Bunny Wrigg sometimes when he has been setting night-lines in the old hammer pond, and catching big eels, and sometimes wild ducks, and— Pst! Someone coming!”“Master Waller, are you upstairs?” came from below; and the boy pressed his finger on his lips and took a little saw from where it was hanging against the wall, put it down noisily, and picked up a hammer from where it lay upon a bench-like table.The next moment he was tapping a box softly, as if he were driving in a nail, while the uncarpeted stairs leading to the attic creaked, and the light step of the girl was heard coming towards the door.Next moment she was knocking sharply.“Master Waller! Master Waller!” she cried excitedly. “You must come down directly; you are wanted.”“Eh?” cried the boy. “Who wants me?”“There’s Tony Gusset, sir, Martha’s brother, and he’s come along with six soldiers.”Waller sprang from his seat, striking the table a heavy blow with the hammer in his excitement as he rose, while his companion, who had followed the example, took a couple of steps towards the open dormer window, and stood there with his lips pinched together and hands clenched.“What do they want?” cried Waller sharply, as he caught his companion by the wrist.“They are coming to search the house, sir.”“What?” shouted Waller hoarsely.“Coming to hunt for spies, sir.”Waller drew a deep breath as if pulling himself together to face the desperate position, and his companion looked at him wonderingly as he called out, in a voice full of assumed bravado:“Oh, are they! I will come down to see about that!”“Yes, sir, do, please. Martha’s in such a way, and she’s quarrelling with her brother awful.”“Go on down!” cried Waller, and he gave the table a heavy thump with his hammer before listening to the girl’s descending steps, and breathing hard as if he had been running the while.As the girl’s steps died out he faced round to look in the fugitive’s eyes. There was a faint smile on the lad’s lips as he caught Waller’s hand and gripped it fast.“Thank you,” he said very calmly. “It’s all over, Waller—brother Waller. There, I am going to meet it like a man.”“What!” said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, as if he thought their words might be heard through the open window. “What are you going to do?”“Surrender,” was the reply, “and take care that you come to no harm for harbouring me here.”Waller laughed mockingly, as he snatched away his hand and clapped it and its fellow upon the other’s shoulders.“You’ve been too long in France,” he whispered. “An English boy would not give up like that. Never say die!”“What do you mean?” panted the other, startled by Waller’s earnestness.“To dodge these bloodhounds, as you call them, and give them the slip; and as for old bumpy Gusset, this is his doing, because he’s got a spite against father, and if you and I don’t serve him out for it, my name’s not Waller Froy. Pst!” he whispered, with his lips close to the other’s ear. “Don’t make a rustle nor a sound,” he continued, after whispering for a few moments, “and never stir. I’ll send them about their business, never fear.”Short as was the time that this interchange of words had taken, it was too long, for loud, hoarse voices were heard as of men assembling in the hall, and, giving his companion an encouraging slap upon the back, Waller dashed out of the room, banged to the door, locked it, and thrust the key into his pocket, keeping his hand there as he carelessly made for the staircase, descended to the gallery, and the next minute was looking over the broad balustrade down into the hall, where a couple of soldiers stood, with grounded muskets, staring through the dining-room door, while another was in the porch on guard, and voices came from out of the room.“Hullo!” shouted Waller to the two soldiers, who had turned to look at him directly. “Who are you, and what do you want?”Without waiting for an answer he took a couple of steps, threw himself on to the great carved balustrade, and, rapidly gliding down upon his chest, literally shot off before he reached the upright scroll at the bottom, and faced the men. His loud questioning voice brought out a sergeant, musket in hand, and sword and bayonet in his diagonal belt behind, closely followed by a big, fat, puffy, unwholesome-looking man with sallow face and baggy eyes.

Godfrey started up from a deep sleep, to see it was morning with the sun shining brightly, and that the birds were singing, while Waller was standing by his bedside smiling at him as he looked at him wonderingly, and apparently quite confused.

“Come, old fellow, wake up,” said Waller. “I have been up two hours.”

“Up two hours! I— there’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“Wrong? No. You are always thinking some one’s coming after you. It’s all right.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Godfrey.

“Why, you don’t mean to say you’ve forgotten all about last night?”

“Last night!” cried the lad, with a start.

“Oh, I had forgotten. No; I was not quite awake. You have been up early to go and get that rope.”

Waller pointed to the big, old easy chair.

“Does seem like it, doesn’t it? There it is, all soaked with dew. I soon got it down, and I have been busy over the bed. You had trampled it terribly, and there were two great bits of ivy snapped off as well and lying there. I’ve made it pretty tidy, and there has been such a heavy due that your footprints on the grass, and those of Joe Hanson, going round the house, are pretty well taken out. They’ll be all right now, I think.”

“Oh, thank you,” cried Godfrey, with a sigh; “but now, I suppose, I must give up all hope of going into the woods with you again.”

“Nonsense! I only want you to wait till it’s sensible to go.”

“Ah!” cried Godfrey. “I like to hear you talk so. Do you know, I was dreaming this morning about what you said the other day.”

“What was that?”

“About getting me down to Lymington, and on board a fishing-boat.”

“And so I will.”

“Thank you. Then we will start to-night.”

“That we won’t!” cried Waller. “Stuff! Nonsense! I hear from our gardener that there are soldiers going about from place to place in the forest, and as likely as not we should run right up against them, for they would be sure to be keeping watch at night. You wait a bit, and as soon as I think it’s safe, and we have made all our plans, we will go. But don’t you be in such a hurry. You are company for me, and I am sure my father wouldn’t mind your staying on a while to get strong. I want to hear that the soldiers are gone, and then you will be like a visitor, and we will have a good time of it in the woods, fishing, and collecting, and one thing and another.”

“No,” said the lad sadly; “England is no place for me. I must get back to France.”

“You wait till you get better,” said Waller, “and you will talk differently.”

“Oh, but I am putting you in such a false position. Your servants will be finding out that you have got me hidden here.”

“They’d better!” cried Waller hotly. “What business is it of theirs? I am only answerable to my father.”

“And what will he say to you when he knows what you have done?”

“What will he say?” cried Waller enthusiastically. “He’ll say—he’ll say—I don’t know what,” and the boy stopped short.

Another day elapsed, and Waller was chatting eagerly with his prisoner, and planning with him that they should steal out as soon as it was dusk, and go and have a ramble in the woods.

“But it will be dark,” said Boyne wearily.

“There,” cried Waller, “you are speaking as dumpily as you did when we first met. That means that you ought to be out in the fresh air. Of course it will be dark. No, it won’t, because there will be some moon to-night; and if it were dark it wouldn’t matter. There’s always something to hear, with the creatures in the forest hunting—owls, and stoats, and all sorts of night things. Why, I can find my way anywhere nearly in the forest of a night. You don’t know what fun it is till you get out there. I have been out with Bunny Wrigg sometimes when he has been setting night-lines in the old hammer pond, and catching big eels, and sometimes wild ducks, and— Pst! Someone coming!”

“Master Waller, are you upstairs?” came from below; and the boy pressed his finger on his lips and took a little saw from where it was hanging against the wall, put it down noisily, and picked up a hammer from where it lay upon a bench-like table.

The next moment he was tapping a box softly, as if he were driving in a nail, while the uncarpeted stairs leading to the attic creaked, and the light step of the girl was heard coming towards the door.

Next moment she was knocking sharply.

“Master Waller! Master Waller!” she cried excitedly. “You must come down directly; you are wanted.”

“Eh?” cried the boy. “Who wants me?”

“There’s Tony Gusset, sir, Martha’s brother, and he’s come along with six soldiers.”

Waller sprang from his seat, striking the table a heavy blow with the hammer in his excitement as he rose, while his companion, who had followed the example, took a couple of steps towards the open dormer window, and stood there with his lips pinched together and hands clenched.

“What do they want?” cried Waller sharply, as he caught his companion by the wrist.

“They are coming to search the house, sir.”

“What?” shouted Waller hoarsely.

“Coming to hunt for spies, sir.”

Waller drew a deep breath as if pulling himself together to face the desperate position, and his companion looked at him wonderingly as he called out, in a voice full of assumed bravado:

“Oh, are they! I will come down to see about that!”

“Yes, sir, do, please. Martha’s in such a way, and she’s quarrelling with her brother awful.”

“Go on down!” cried Waller, and he gave the table a heavy thump with his hammer before listening to the girl’s descending steps, and breathing hard as if he had been running the while.

As the girl’s steps died out he faced round to look in the fugitive’s eyes. There was a faint smile on the lad’s lips as he caught Waller’s hand and gripped it fast.

“Thank you,” he said very calmly. “It’s all over, Waller—brother Waller. There, I am going to meet it like a man.”

“What!” said Waller, in a hoarse whisper, as if he thought their words might be heard through the open window. “What are you going to do?”

“Surrender,” was the reply, “and take care that you come to no harm for harbouring me here.”

Waller laughed mockingly, as he snatched away his hand and clapped it and its fellow upon the other’s shoulders.

“You’ve been too long in France,” he whispered. “An English boy would not give up like that. Never say die!”

“What do you mean?” panted the other, startled by Waller’s earnestness.

“To dodge these bloodhounds, as you call them, and give them the slip; and as for old bumpy Gusset, this is his doing, because he’s got a spite against father, and if you and I don’t serve him out for it, my name’s not Waller Froy. Pst!” he whispered, with his lips close to the other’s ear. “Don’t make a rustle nor a sound,” he continued, after whispering for a few moments, “and never stir. I’ll send them about their business, never fear.”

Short as was the time that this interchange of words had taken, it was too long, for loud, hoarse voices were heard as of men assembling in the hall, and, giving his companion an encouraging slap upon the back, Waller dashed out of the room, banged to the door, locked it, and thrust the key into his pocket, keeping his hand there as he carelessly made for the staircase, descended to the gallery, and the next minute was looking over the broad balustrade down into the hall, where a couple of soldiers stood, with grounded muskets, staring through the dining-room door, while another was in the porch on guard, and voices came from out of the room.

“Hullo!” shouted Waller to the two soldiers, who had turned to look at him directly. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

Without waiting for an answer he took a couple of steps, threw himself on to the great carved balustrade, and, rapidly gliding down upon his chest, literally shot off before he reached the upright scroll at the bottom, and faced the men. His loud questioning voice brought out a sergeant, musket in hand, and sword and bayonet in his diagonal belt behind, closely followed by a big, fat, puffy, unwholesome-looking man with sallow face and baggy eyes.

Chapter Fifteen.The Search Continued.The man had on a cobbler’s leather apron, which he had rolled up and tucked in the strap. He had pulled on his jacket, but evidently without turning down the sleeves of his shirt, which showed through just beneath his shoulders in two rolls like mock muscles, while a very much battered felt hat, with a flap looped up to form three cocks, was worn jauntily upon his head.“Morning, sir,” said the sergeant, looking the boy up and down sharply. “Are you Squire Froy?”“No, I am his son,” said Waller haughtily, as he strode past the stiff-looking military man so as to bring himself within arm’s length of the cobbler, and, with a movement quick as a flash, struck off his cocked hat and sent it flying. “What do you mean by that, sir?” he shouted at him. “Is that the way to enter a gentleman’s house?” and with a half-run across the echoing polished oak boards he made a kick at the hat, and, to the great delight of the soldiers, sent it flying out through the porch.“If you weren’t an old man I’d kick you, too,” he continued, as the astounded constable dressed in a little brief authority, opened his mouth like a carp, too much amazed to speak. “You would have come sneaking round to the back door if my father had been at home, or else have stood wiping your dirty shoes upon the mat.” Then, turning his back upon the man he addressed, he faced the leader of the soldiers. “Now, sergeant,” he said, “what’s the meaning of this intrusion?”There was a good deal of the cock bantam about the boy’s ways and speech, but it was manly all the same. He had real authority, too, for speaking out to the rough, coarse-looking villager, and with quick military precision the sergeant, whose eyes sparkled on hearing his rank acknowledged, saluted sharply.“Beg pardon, sir; on duty,” he said. “Me and my men, we are in search of French spies who are loose somewhere about the forest, and this man from down the village tells me that one or two of them are likely to be harboured here. Not a pleasant job, sir, but I am only obeying orders, and we shall have to search the place.”“Search the place!” cried Waller hotly.“Yes, sir, in the King’s name.”“Oh,” said Waller coolly, as he darted a furious glance at Gusset, who was still opening and shutting his mouth without making a sound; and then, noting that Martha and Bella had come to the door leading to the servants’ offices, and were looking on, while the gardener, bearing his scythe, had come round to the porch, to be stopped by the soldier placed as sentry, who held his musket across the man’s chest, “In the King’s name, eh?” said Waller coolly.“Yes, sir. Very sorry, but my duty.”“Oh, well, I am not going to blame you,” said Waller; “but I should have thought as my father is a county magistrate this house ought to be respected.”“Yes, sir, of course,” said the sergeant; “but don’t you see, it’s like protecting him against the French.”“Search away, then,” cried Waller, “and when you have done—here, Martha!”“Yes, sir,” came from the door.“Don’t let these soldiers go away without giving them a crust of bread and cheese.”“No, sir; I’ll have it ready directly,” cried Martha; and then, in a whisper to her fellow-servant, “Bless the boy! Don’t he speak up like a man!”“Where are you going to begin, sergeant?”“Thank you, sir, for the lunch,” said the sergeant, smiling; and he gave the lad another admiring look—one that took him in from top to toe, while his eyes seemed to speak the thoughts of his heart. “What a smart young officer he’d make! Shouldn’t I like the job of drilling him into shape!”“Oh, we will begin at the bottom, sir, and search to the top.”“But suppose there are Frenchmen here,” said Waller, laughing, “why, they might be getting away into the woods while you are talking!”“Not they, sir,” said the man, with a cunning smile. “I have got a man at each door as sentry, and two more on vedette back and front. Not much fear of that.”“But suppose they make a bolt, like the rabbits do in the forest,” said Waller.“Bad for them if they did, sir,” replied the sergeant, rather sternly. “My men can shoot.”Waller whistled softly.“Oh, ho!” he said; and he tapped the barrel of the sergeant’s musket with his knuckles. “Loaded?”The man gave him a quiet nod.“Go on, then; search away, and get it done. You have been in the dining-room, I see.”The village constable, who had been listening, with his eyes starting and ears seeming to project forward, here broke in, speaking in a husky, oily voice.“Big cellar, sergeant, all underneath the house, and iron gratings to let in the light.”“What do you know about it?” cried Waller sharply. “Have you been prying and peering in?”“I am a-doin’ of my duty, Master Waller Froy,” said the man, swelling up like a turkey-cock, which bird he seemed greatly to resemble as, having found his voice, he began to show his importance, but with no other effect than to make the soldiers grin, while one of them, who had walked out past the sentry and picked up the cocked hat with the muzzle of his musket, now presented it to him.“Don’t—don’t do that!” cried the constable, starting back as if it were something alive. “You should never point a gun at anyone when you speak!”“Didn’t speak,” said the soldier, grinning more widely.“There, take your hat, constable,” cried the sergeant, giving Waller a comical cock of his eye. “Brown Bess never barks unless we touch the trigger. Yes, sir, I have looked through the dining-room. Beautiful old-fashioned room, too. Excuse me for saying so. No secret passages there, I suppose?”“No,” said Waller; “not one. Come and look here, then, next. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. This is the drawing-room,” and he threw open the door of the handsome low-ceilinged, old panelled chamber, with most of the furniture dating back so that it was nearly as old as the house.As he led the way into the room Waller winced, for Anthony Gusset was putting on his cocked hat again; but as he caught the boy’s furious look he snatched it off.“Look here, sergeant,” said Waller quietly; “I’ll take you all over the house and answer any questions you like to put, or won’t answer them, just as I please, but you can do your duty without that fat, stupid, village bumpkin?”“To be sure I can, sir. Here, you, constable, stop there with my sentry at the porch, and if you see a Frenchman bolt, you shout.”As he spoke, the man backed Gusset into the hall, for he was following into the drawing-room, making him open his thick lips in fish like fashion once again as if to speak; but a prod in the ribs given by the sergeant’s forefinger forced obedience, and he went out unwillingly into the porch.The sergeant returned to Waller, who was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, whistling an old country ditty softly, while the two soldiers made a pretence of searching the room, and then looked for orders from their officer.“You haven’t looked up the chimney, my lads,” cried Waller, laughing. “Oh, you needn’t stare; there’s plenty of room in it for a horse to get up,” and he laughingly stepped forward into the wide chimney-corner. “Look here, officer, you don’t often see a place like this.”“My word, no, sir!” said the sergeant, stooping down and following Waller into the great wide place. “They used to build in the old days, and make room for the smoke. Why, the ivy’s hanging right down through the top.”“Yes,” said Waller: “plenty of ivy here. Now you’d like to see the library?”This was looked into, and then a slight search was made of what Waller called the schoolroom, and a little, old-fashioned boudoir.“That’s all here,” said the boy, “except the servant’s places.”“What about the cellar, sir?” said the sergeant.“Oh, we’ll go into that through the outer hall,” and, Waller, leading the way, the searchers passed through the various offices, and, on lights being provided and a big key being fetched from the squire’s study table, the big, crypt-like, vaulted cellars were searched from end to end. Lastly, Waller led the way upstairs to the gallery, where the oaken polished floor echoed to the soldiers’ heavy tread.“Where does that staircase lead, sir?” said the sergeant, as his task drew near its end.“Attics in the roof,” said Waller. “Up you go.”“Well, sir, I am getting rather tired of this job,” said the man, hesitating.“Oh, but you have got it to do. Finish it off,” said Waller carelessly; and he made way for the soldiers to pass up, and stood below swinging himself to and fro, balancing himself toe and heel.“Come on, my lads,” said the sergeant. “Forward, and be smart. I am thinking that crust of bread and cheese must be ready by now.”The men laughed good-humouredly, and the bare staircase creaked and groaned beneath their heavy tread, which directly afterwards made the upper passage, with its sloping ceiling, which followed the shapes of the gables, echo.That part of the search was quickly done, not so quickly that it did not give time to Waller to whistle the stave of the old Hampshire ditty three times over.He had just got to the last bar for this third time when the butt of the sergeant’s musket was dropped with a heavy bang upon the floor overhead.“Beg pardon, sir,” he shouted down to Waller. “There’s one of these ’ere doors locked!”“Eh?” cried Waller, whose face now looked scarlet, and who stood for a moment or two holding his breath.“One door here locked, sir. I ought to see into every room.”“Oh, to be sure! That’s my den,” cried the boy cavalierly—“my workshop. I am coming,” and springing up two steps at a time he faced the sergeant, who, with two men, was waiting by the locked door.Waller thrust his hand into his pocket, and the sergeant looked at him sharply, for his breath, possibly from the exertion, came thick and fast, while the key seemed to stick in his pocket as if it had got across.“There you are,” he said jauntily. “It’s full of my rubbish and odds and ends. Catch!”He pitched the key, and the sergeant caught it with one hand as cleverly as if he had been a cricketer, turned, and began to insert it in the lock.“Mind the snakes!” cried Waller mockingly; while, in spite of a strong effort, he felt half choked, and his voice sounded strained and hard.“Snakes?” said the sergeant, pausing with the key half turned. “Up here?”“Yes,” said Waller; “at least a dozen. I am a collector, you know.”The sergeant gave him a searching look, hesitated a moment, and then, with a half-smile upon his lip, he turned the key. The bolt flew back with a sharp snap and he threw open the door.

The man had on a cobbler’s leather apron, which he had rolled up and tucked in the strap. He had pulled on his jacket, but evidently without turning down the sleeves of his shirt, which showed through just beneath his shoulders in two rolls like mock muscles, while a very much battered felt hat, with a flap looped up to form three cocks, was worn jauntily upon his head.

“Morning, sir,” said the sergeant, looking the boy up and down sharply. “Are you Squire Froy?”

“No, I am his son,” said Waller haughtily, as he strode past the stiff-looking military man so as to bring himself within arm’s length of the cobbler, and, with a movement quick as a flash, struck off his cocked hat and sent it flying. “What do you mean by that, sir?” he shouted at him. “Is that the way to enter a gentleman’s house?” and with a half-run across the echoing polished oak boards he made a kick at the hat, and, to the great delight of the soldiers, sent it flying out through the porch.

“If you weren’t an old man I’d kick you, too,” he continued, as the astounded constable dressed in a little brief authority, opened his mouth like a carp, too much amazed to speak. “You would have come sneaking round to the back door if my father had been at home, or else have stood wiping your dirty shoes upon the mat.” Then, turning his back upon the man he addressed, he faced the leader of the soldiers. “Now, sergeant,” he said, “what’s the meaning of this intrusion?”

There was a good deal of the cock bantam about the boy’s ways and speech, but it was manly all the same. He had real authority, too, for speaking out to the rough, coarse-looking villager, and with quick military precision the sergeant, whose eyes sparkled on hearing his rank acknowledged, saluted sharply.

“Beg pardon, sir; on duty,” he said. “Me and my men, we are in search of French spies who are loose somewhere about the forest, and this man from down the village tells me that one or two of them are likely to be harboured here. Not a pleasant job, sir, but I am only obeying orders, and we shall have to search the place.”

“Search the place!” cried Waller hotly.

“Yes, sir, in the King’s name.”

“Oh,” said Waller coolly, as he darted a furious glance at Gusset, who was still opening and shutting his mouth without making a sound; and then, noting that Martha and Bella had come to the door leading to the servants’ offices, and were looking on, while the gardener, bearing his scythe, had come round to the porch, to be stopped by the soldier placed as sentry, who held his musket across the man’s chest, “In the King’s name, eh?” said Waller coolly.

“Yes, sir. Very sorry, but my duty.”

“Oh, well, I am not going to blame you,” said Waller; “but I should have thought as my father is a county magistrate this house ought to be respected.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” said the sergeant; “but don’t you see, it’s like protecting him against the French.”

“Search away, then,” cried Waller, “and when you have done—here, Martha!”

“Yes, sir,” came from the door.

“Don’t let these soldiers go away without giving them a crust of bread and cheese.”

“No, sir; I’ll have it ready directly,” cried Martha; and then, in a whisper to her fellow-servant, “Bless the boy! Don’t he speak up like a man!”

“Where are you going to begin, sergeant?”

“Thank you, sir, for the lunch,” said the sergeant, smiling; and he gave the lad another admiring look—one that took him in from top to toe, while his eyes seemed to speak the thoughts of his heart. “What a smart young officer he’d make! Shouldn’t I like the job of drilling him into shape!”

“Oh, we will begin at the bottom, sir, and search to the top.”

“But suppose there are Frenchmen here,” said Waller, laughing, “why, they might be getting away into the woods while you are talking!”

“Not they, sir,” said the man, with a cunning smile. “I have got a man at each door as sentry, and two more on vedette back and front. Not much fear of that.”

“But suppose they make a bolt, like the rabbits do in the forest,” said Waller.

“Bad for them if they did, sir,” replied the sergeant, rather sternly. “My men can shoot.”

Waller whistled softly.

“Oh, ho!” he said; and he tapped the barrel of the sergeant’s musket with his knuckles. “Loaded?”

The man gave him a quiet nod.

“Go on, then; search away, and get it done. You have been in the dining-room, I see.”

The village constable, who had been listening, with his eyes starting and ears seeming to project forward, here broke in, speaking in a husky, oily voice.

“Big cellar, sergeant, all underneath the house, and iron gratings to let in the light.”

“What do you know about it?” cried Waller sharply. “Have you been prying and peering in?”

“I am a-doin’ of my duty, Master Waller Froy,” said the man, swelling up like a turkey-cock, which bird he seemed greatly to resemble as, having found his voice, he began to show his importance, but with no other effect than to make the soldiers grin, while one of them, who had walked out past the sentry and picked up the cocked hat with the muzzle of his musket, now presented it to him.

“Don’t—don’t do that!” cried the constable, starting back as if it were something alive. “You should never point a gun at anyone when you speak!”

“Didn’t speak,” said the soldier, grinning more widely.

“There, take your hat, constable,” cried the sergeant, giving Waller a comical cock of his eye. “Brown Bess never barks unless we touch the trigger. Yes, sir, I have looked through the dining-room. Beautiful old-fashioned room, too. Excuse me for saying so. No secret passages there, I suppose?”

“No,” said Waller; “not one. Come and look here, then, next. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. This is the drawing-room,” and he threw open the door of the handsome low-ceilinged, old panelled chamber, with most of the furniture dating back so that it was nearly as old as the house.

As he led the way into the room Waller winced, for Anthony Gusset was putting on his cocked hat again; but as he caught the boy’s furious look he snatched it off.

“Look here, sergeant,” said Waller quietly; “I’ll take you all over the house and answer any questions you like to put, or won’t answer them, just as I please, but you can do your duty without that fat, stupid, village bumpkin?”

“To be sure I can, sir. Here, you, constable, stop there with my sentry at the porch, and if you see a Frenchman bolt, you shout.”

As he spoke, the man backed Gusset into the hall, for he was following into the drawing-room, making him open his thick lips in fish like fashion once again as if to speak; but a prod in the ribs given by the sergeant’s forefinger forced obedience, and he went out unwillingly into the porch.

The sergeant returned to Waller, who was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, whistling an old country ditty softly, while the two soldiers made a pretence of searching the room, and then looked for orders from their officer.

“You haven’t looked up the chimney, my lads,” cried Waller, laughing. “Oh, you needn’t stare; there’s plenty of room in it for a horse to get up,” and he laughingly stepped forward into the wide chimney-corner. “Look here, officer, you don’t often see a place like this.”

“My word, no, sir!” said the sergeant, stooping down and following Waller into the great wide place. “They used to build in the old days, and make room for the smoke. Why, the ivy’s hanging right down through the top.”

“Yes,” said Waller: “plenty of ivy here. Now you’d like to see the library?”

This was looked into, and then a slight search was made of what Waller called the schoolroom, and a little, old-fashioned boudoir.

“That’s all here,” said the boy, “except the servant’s places.”

“What about the cellar, sir?” said the sergeant.

“Oh, we’ll go into that through the outer hall,” and, Waller, leading the way, the searchers passed through the various offices, and, on lights being provided and a big key being fetched from the squire’s study table, the big, crypt-like, vaulted cellars were searched from end to end. Lastly, Waller led the way upstairs to the gallery, where the oaken polished floor echoed to the soldiers’ heavy tread.

“Where does that staircase lead, sir?” said the sergeant, as his task drew near its end.

“Attics in the roof,” said Waller. “Up you go.”

“Well, sir, I am getting rather tired of this job,” said the man, hesitating.

“Oh, but you have got it to do. Finish it off,” said Waller carelessly; and he made way for the soldiers to pass up, and stood below swinging himself to and fro, balancing himself toe and heel.

“Come on, my lads,” said the sergeant. “Forward, and be smart. I am thinking that crust of bread and cheese must be ready by now.”

The men laughed good-humouredly, and the bare staircase creaked and groaned beneath their heavy tread, which directly afterwards made the upper passage, with its sloping ceiling, which followed the shapes of the gables, echo.

That part of the search was quickly done, not so quickly that it did not give time to Waller to whistle the stave of the old Hampshire ditty three times over.

He had just got to the last bar for this third time when the butt of the sergeant’s musket was dropped with a heavy bang upon the floor overhead.

“Beg pardon, sir,” he shouted down to Waller. “There’s one of these ’ere doors locked!”

“Eh?” cried Waller, whose face now looked scarlet, and who stood for a moment or two holding his breath.

“One door here locked, sir. I ought to see into every room.”

“Oh, to be sure! That’s my den,” cried the boy cavalierly—“my workshop. I am coming,” and springing up two steps at a time he faced the sergeant, who, with two men, was waiting by the locked door.

Waller thrust his hand into his pocket, and the sergeant looked at him sharply, for his breath, possibly from the exertion, came thick and fast, while the key seemed to stick in his pocket as if it had got across.

“There you are,” he said jauntily. “It’s full of my rubbish and odds and ends. Catch!”

He pitched the key, and the sergeant caught it with one hand as cleverly as if he had been a cricketer, turned, and began to insert it in the lock.

“Mind the snakes!” cried Waller mockingly; while, in spite of a strong effort, he felt half choked, and his voice sounded strained and hard.

“Snakes?” said the sergeant, pausing with the key half turned. “Up here?”

“Yes,” said Waller; “at least a dozen. I am a collector, you know.”

The sergeant gave him a searching look, hesitated a moment, and then, with a half-smile upon his lip, he turned the key. The bolt flew back with a sharp snap and he threw open the door.

Chapter Sixteen.Still Searching.With a mingling of instinct and the practice of the profession, the sergeant’s two followers brought down their muskets to the present as the door flew wide, presumably to meet the attack of the snakes, but the curled and dried-up skins, so light without the sand that a sharp puff of wind would have blown them away, lay still upon the shelf, and there was no rush for escape made by Godfrey Boyne. The place, full of its litter of odds and ends dear to the young naturalist, and with its open windows, lay open to the gaze of the soldiers, and the sergeant, after a sharp look round, which satisfied him that the place was empty, turned to Waller.“I thought it meant game, sir,” he said. “Where’s your sarpints?”“Yonder on the shelf,” said Waller, with a mischievous look in his eyes.“Yah! Stuffed! Well, sir, we have done; and thank you for being so nice to us over an unpleasant job.”“Oh, don’t name it, sergeant,” said Waller coolly.“Right about face, my lads! Forward! March!—Halt!—About that there window—how far is it to the ground?”“Oh, nice little jump,” said Waller coolly. “About thirty feet, I suppose.”But though he spoke calmly there was a curious twitching at the corners of the boy’s eyes and his nether lip seemed to quiver as the stiff, keen-looking man marched to the casement and leaned out, looking sharply to right and left.“Don’t see any bits, sir, lying below,” he said with a grim laugh. “No one seems to have jumped out there. My word! You grow a fine lot of ivy about this house, but I suppose it wasn’t planted yesterday.—Now, then, forward, my lads!” he continued; and then, with a laugh and a nod to Waller, he jerked his right thumb in the direction of the men. “They are not thinking of catching spies, sir, but about that bread and cheese.”“Ah, well, they shall have it as soon as you have done,” said Waller, the nerves of whose face had ceased to twitch.“Oh, we have done, sir,” said the man, “and glad of it. This is not the sort of thing I like. Don’t seem proper work for soldiers. I have done, sir, unless you have any other place you want us to search.”“Oh, not I,” said Waller. “I shall be glad to see your backs.”The men began to descend, while Waller carefully locked the door and pocketed his key.“I don’t like servants to meddle with my knick-knacks,” he said.“Of course you don’t, sir. I used to be very fond of that sort of thing when I was a boy, in Devon.”The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat.“You ar’n’t found them, then?” he said to the sergeant.“No, constable; there’s no spy here, French or English. It’s all a mare’s nest, and you have brought us for nothing.”The constable’s reply sent a pang through Waller, and brought him down to zero.“But you haven’t been out on the roof?”“No,” said the sergeant mockingly, “nor we haven’t been up the chimney. My lads are neither sweeps nor tilers. Think he’s flown up there?”“No,” said the constable with asperity; “but I think you haven’t half searched. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere up in the ivy.”“Ho!” said the sergeant sharply. “Like a cock-sparrow or a rat, eh? I tell you I have searched the place, and I have done.”“And I tell you you haven’t half searched,” cried the constable. “You must get ladders and go all over the roof. I daresay he’s hiding in the ivy.”“Beg pardon, sergeant,” said one of the men. “Didn’t the good gentleman say something about some lunch?”“To be sure I did,” said Waller, “and it will be ready in the kitchen by now.”“Thank you, sir,” said the sergeant grumpily. “I suppose we shall be obliged to have a look at the roof from outside. I don’t want to be reported to my captain for not having done my duty. But look here, Mr Constable,” and to Waller’s great relief the man turned his back upon him and faced Gusset, while the boy felt as if he was turning white, and his hands grew moist. “You gave information,” continued the sergeant, “and it seems to me that this is more your job than mine. How are we to get up on the roof?”“Ladder, of course,” cried Gusset eagerly. “They have got long ones here that they use for the apples and stacks. You must get up out at the back.”“Oh, oh, oh!” groaned Waller to himself. “I should like to have you out at the back!”“Oh, very well,” said the sergeant. “Out with you, my lads, and let’s get it over,” and, as the men marched out, following the constable, who seemed quite at home in the geography of the house, the sergeant stopped to speak to Waller.“There, sir, you see I can’t help myself, so don’t blame me.”“No,” said Waller; and, in spite of his efforts, his voice sounded very strange. But the man had turned away, and did not heed.Gusset led the way into the big, open yard at the back, and, acting under his directions, the soldiers followed to a low shed, beneath which one of the long, thin, tapering ladders with straddling legs, used in country places, hung upon two great iron pegs against the wall.“There you are,” said Gusset. “Bring it out! Quick!”“Here, I say,” snarled one of the men he addressed, “who are you ordering about? You are not our sergeant.”“There, don’t talk, my lads,” cried that individual, coming up. “Bring the ladder out and heave it up against that side of the house where the roof slopes.”At that moment the gardener, who had, as it were, been taken by surprise, and in the rear, came hurrying round from where he had been waiting by the porch in a great state of excitement.“Here, I say! Hold hard there!” he cried. “What are you doing with my ladder? Let it be! I don’t want that broke.”He turned to Waller as if to ask him to put a stop to it, but the boy avoided his gaze, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and stood frowning.“Here, don’t you interfere, Joe Hanson; you will be getting yourself into trouble,” spluttered Gusset, in his husky voice; and he unconsciously blew out his cheeks and opened his eyes wider as he took a fresh breath. “This here’s all in the King’s name.”“King’s name!” cried the gardener sharply as he lifted his blue serge apron and began to twist it up in a tail to tuck up round his waist. “What’s the King’s name got to do with it? I am talking about my ladder.”“There, there, gardener,” said the sergeant, “don’t stop us. I want to get this job done. My boys don’t understand ladders like you do; perhaps you wouldn’t mind pitching it up against the roof?”“Oh, very well, sergeant,” replied the gardener; “I don’t mind when I am asked civilly, but I am not going to have all the country cobblers in Hampshire coming into my yard and meddling with the tools as is in my charge. Here, that’s not the way, swaddy,” he continued, joining the two soldiers, who, each still holding his musket in his hand, were fumbling awkwardly with the long ladder in carrying it across the yard.He smiled good-humouredly at the two stiff-strapped and buckled-up men, and took hold of the ladder about the middle.“There, drop its heel on the ground,” he said, “and one of you put your foot on the bottom round.”The soldier promptly obeyed, and the next minute, as the straddling bottom of the ladder was kept down, the gardener ran his hands along beneath it, thrusting it upward round by round till it was perpendicular, when, grasping it firmly, one hand low down and arms outstretched to the fullest extent, he walked quickly across the yard, planted the ladder down close to the house, and let the top fall away from him with a gentlewhishamongst the ivy.“Well done!” cried the two soldiers admiringly; and the gardener came away smiling with self-satisfaction at the men’s admiration of his skill.“Oh,” he said to the sergeant, “it’s easy enough when you know how.”“That’s so, my lad,” said the sergeant. “There’s nothing like having a man who understands his tools.”Waller still stood frowning and rattling his knife, the key, a piece of curb chain, and a few other odds and ends in the bottom of his pocket, furtively watching the fat constable the while, till he caught sight of the sergeant looking at him, ready to half close his eye in a knowing wink.“That’ll about do,” said Gusset; and he looked up to the top of the ladder, half hidden amongst the clustering ivy, then down at the two men, and, lastly, at the sergeant.“Now, then,” he said, in his unpleasant, husky voice, “it’s no use to waste time. Somebody had better go up.”

With a mingling of instinct and the practice of the profession, the sergeant’s two followers brought down their muskets to the present as the door flew wide, presumably to meet the attack of the snakes, but the curled and dried-up skins, so light without the sand that a sharp puff of wind would have blown them away, lay still upon the shelf, and there was no rush for escape made by Godfrey Boyne. The place, full of its litter of odds and ends dear to the young naturalist, and with its open windows, lay open to the gaze of the soldiers, and the sergeant, after a sharp look round, which satisfied him that the place was empty, turned to Waller.

“I thought it meant game, sir,” he said. “Where’s your sarpints?”

“Yonder on the shelf,” said Waller, with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Yah! Stuffed! Well, sir, we have done; and thank you for being so nice to us over an unpleasant job.”

“Oh, don’t name it, sergeant,” said Waller coolly.

“Right about face, my lads! Forward! March!—Halt!—About that there window—how far is it to the ground?”

“Oh, nice little jump,” said Waller coolly. “About thirty feet, I suppose.”

But though he spoke calmly there was a curious twitching at the corners of the boy’s eyes and his nether lip seemed to quiver as the stiff, keen-looking man marched to the casement and leaned out, looking sharply to right and left.

“Don’t see any bits, sir, lying below,” he said with a grim laugh. “No one seems to have jumped out there. My word! You grow a fine lot of ivy about this house, but I suppose it wasn’t planted yesterday.—Now, then, forward, my lads!” he continued; and then, with a laugh and a nod to Waller, he jerked his right thumb in the direction of the men. “They are not thinking of catching spies, sir, but about that bread and cheese.”

“Ah, well, they shall have it as soon as you have done,” said Waller, the nerves of whose face had ceased to twitch.

“Oh, we have done, sir,” said the man, “and glad of it. This is not the sort of thing I like. Don’t seem proper work for soldiers. I have done, sir, unless you have any other place you want us to search.”

“Oh, not I,” said Waller. “I shall be glad to see your backs.”

The men began to descend, while Waller carefully locked the door and pocketed his key.

“I don’t like servants to meddle with my knick-knacks,” he said.

“Of course you don’t, sir. I used to be very fond of that sort of thing when I was a boy, in Devon.”

The next minute they were down in the fine old entrance-hall, to be met by Gusset, who bustled forward out of the porch with his protruding eyes rolling a little as he stared hard at the sergeant, and then, misjudging a movement on the part of Waller, he snatched off his hat.

“You ar’n’t found them, then?” he said to the sergeant.

“No, constable; there’s no spy here, French or English. It’s all a mare’s nest, and you have brought us for nothing.”

The constable’s reply sent a pang through Waller, and brought him down to zero.

“But you haven’t been out on the roof?”

“No,” said the sergeant mockingly, “nor we haven’t been up the chimney. My lads are neither sweeps nor tilers. Think he’s flown up there?”

“No,” said the constable with asperity; “but I think you haven’t half searched. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere up in the ivy.”

“Ho!” said the sergeant sharply. “Like a cock-sparrow or a rat, eh? I tell you I have searched the place, and I have done.”

“And I tell you you haven’t half searched,” cried the constable. “You must get ladders and go all over the roof. I daresay he’s hiding in the ivy.”

“Beg pardon, sergeant,” said one of the men. “Didn’t the good gentleman say something about some lunch?”

“To be sure I did,” said Waller, “and it will be ready in the kitchen by now.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the sergeant grumpily. “I suppose we shall be obliged to have a look at the roof from outside. I don’t want to be reported to my captain for not having done my duty. But look here, Mr Constable,” and to Waller’s great relief the man turned his back upon him and faced Gusset, while the boy felt as if he was turning white, and his hands grew moist. “You gave information,” continued the sergeant, “and it seems to me that this is more your job than mine. How are we to get up on the roof?”

“Ladder, of course,” cried Gusset eagerly. “They have got long ones here that they use for the apples and stacks. You must get up out at the back.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” groaned Waller to himself. “I should like to have you out at the back!”

“Oh, very well,” said the sergeant. “Out with you, my lads, and let’s get it over,” and, as the men marched out, following the constable, who seemed quite at home in the geography of the house, the sergeant stopped to speak to Waller.

“There, sir, you see I can’t help myself, so don’t blame me.”

“No,” said Waller; and, in spite of his efforts, his voice sounded very strange. But the man had turned away, and did not heed.

Gusset led the way into the big, open yard at the back, and, acting under his directions, the soldiers followed to a low shed, beneath which one of the long, thin, tapering ladders with straddling legs, used in country places, hung upon two great iron pegs against the wall.

“There you are,” said Gusset. “Bring it out! Quick!”

“Here, I say,” snarled one of the men he addressed, “who are you ordering about? You are not our sergeant.”

“There, don’t talk, my lads,” cried that individual, coming up. “Bring the ladder out and heave it up against that side of the house where the roof slopes.”

At that moment the gardener, who had, as it were, been taken by surprise, and in the rear, came hurrying round from where he had been waiting by the porch in a great state of excitement.

“Here, I say! Hold hard there!” he cried. “What are you doing with my ladder? Let it be! I don’t want that broke.”

He turned to Waller as if to ask him to put a stop to it, but the boy avoided his gaze, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and stood frowning.

“Here, don’t you interfere, Joe Hanson; you will be getting yourself into trouble,” spluttered Gusset, in his husky voice; and he unconsciously blew out his cheeks and opened his eyes wider as he took a fresh breath. “This here’s all in the King’s name.”

“King’s name!” cried the gardener sharply as he lifted his blue serge apron and began to twist it up in a tail to tuck up round his waist. “What’s the King’s name got to do with it? I am talking about my ladder.”

“There, there, gardener,” said the sergeant, “don’t stop us. I want to get this job done. My boys don’t understand ladders like you do; perhaps you wouldn’t mind pitching it up against the roof?”

“Oh, very well, sergeant,” replied the gardener; “I don’t mind when I am asked civilly, but I am not going to have all the country cobblers in Hampshire coming into my yard and meddling with the tools as is in my charge. Here, that’s not the way, swaddy,” he continued, joining the two soldiers, who, each still holding his musket in his hand, were fumbling awkwardly with the long ladder in carrying it across the yard.

He smiled good-humouredly at the two stiff-strapped and buckled-up men, and took hold of the ladder about the middle.

“There, drop its heel on the ground,” he said, “and one of you put your foot on the bottom round.”

The soldier promptly obeyed, and the next minute, as the straddling bottom of the ladder was kept down, the gardener ran his hands along beneath it, thrusting it upward round by round till it was perpendicular, when, grasping it firmly, one hand low down and arms outstretched to the fullest extent, he walked quickly across the yard, planted the ladder down close to the house, and let the top fall away from him with a gentlewhishamongst the ivy.

“Well done!” cried the two soldiers admiringly; and the gardener came away smiling with self-satisfaction at the men’s admiration of his skill.

“Oh,” he said to the sergeant, “it’s easy enough when you know how.”

“That’s so, my lad,” said the sergeant. “There’s nothing like having a man who understands his tools.”

Waller still stood frowning and rattling his knife, the key, a piece of curb chain, and a few other odds and ends in the bottom of his pocket, furtively watching the fat constable the while, till he caught sight of the sergeant looking at him, ready to half close his eye in a knowing wink.

“That’ll about do,” said Gusset; and he looked up to the top of the ladder, half hidden amongst the clustering ivy, then down at the two men, and, lastly, at the sergeant.

“Now, then,” he said, in his unpleasant, husky voice, “it’s no use to waste time. Somebody had better go up.”

Chapter Seventeen.A Hot Scent.“To be sure,” said the sergeant sharply. “Well, we are waiting. You know the way better than we do. Up you go.”The constable turned upon him in astonishment, blowing out his cheeks and seeming to make his eyes roll, while his naturally rotund figure began more and more to assume the appearance of a fat cork float.“Me! Me! Me go up there!”“To be sure,” said the sergeant. “You country chaps are used to this sort of thing. My lads are not. Scaling ladders is more in our way, and they are bad enough when you have got to carry your Brown Bess.”“To be sure,” said the gardener, chiming in, with a grin of satisfaction. “That’s right enough, sergeant. Up you go, Fatty!”“You will get yourself into trouble, Joe Hanson,” said the constable pompously. “This here’s the second time I have warned you. You, sergeant—you know I can’t get up there at my time of life, and it’s your duty to send your men. I order you, in the King’s name, to search that roof.”“Oh, very well,” said the sergeant gruffly. “Here, number one and two, stand your muskets up against the wall. No, one of you only. You, Jem Cogan; you are a light one. Up you go. You are not quite so heavy as the constable here.”“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed the gardener. “That’s a good one!” And he bent down to slap his knees, while, to the constable’s great disgust, the hoarse laugh was echoed in the shape of a titter uttered by the two maids, who had come to the back kitchen door.Gusset blew out his cheeks again, and moved slowly towards the foot of the ladder, where, as the soldier placed his musket against the sill of one of the lower windows and then began lightly to ascend, Gusset set his feet very far apart, as if in imitation of the ladder, planted his fat hands upon his hips, and began to follow the private’s movements, leaning somewhat back the while.All at once there was a quick movement in the little group round the foot of the ladder, for, partly moved by the spirit of mischief, as well as by the intense desire to create a diversion, Waller made a rush.“Hold hard a minute, soldier!” he shouted. “I know the way best; let me come first.”As he spoke he literally charged at the constable, who was now leaning backwards a little out of his perpendicular, and came heavily in contact with him, forcing the man to make a snatch at one of the rounds to save himself from falling.The next moment the top of the ladder began to glide sideways, describing an arc as it rustled through the ivy. The mounting soldier, feeling it go, made a jump to alight upon his feet, but, not having time to properly judge his distance, he came down upon the constable instead, and there followed a short scuffle, out of which Waller was the first to gain his feet, to turn savagely upon the heavy, sitting man, and exclaim, amidst roars of laughter:“Why did you do that?”“Yes,” shouted the gardener; “I saw him pull it over. Just look here, Master Waller! Here’s my beautiful new ladder snapped in two!”It was a fact. There lay the pieces; and the soldier, whose face had flushed with rage, but who was not hurt, now joined in the laughter of those around, while the constable still sat looking piteously about, as if for the sympathy that did not come.The sergeant was the next to speak; as he bent over and held out his hand.“Well, you have done it now, master,” he said. “I shouldn’t have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that.”“Oh!” groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. “Help me, please! I think there’s something broke!”“Not there,” said the sergeant cheerily. “You wouldn’t break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn’t my men’s fault.”“No, of course not,” said Waller. “They couldn’t help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking.”Meanwhile Gusset was “set upon his pins,” again, as the sergeant expressed it—in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.“Well, this is all waste of time, my lads,” said the sergeant, pulling himself together. “I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose.”“You’ll get no more of my ladders to break,” said the gardener, wagging his head, “in the King’s name or out of the King’s name.”“What!” cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.“Well, how can you,” said the gardener, “when there aren’t none? There’s two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn’t catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try.”“The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant,” came from the kitchen door at that moment.“Thank you, ma’am,” said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.“Well, master,” he said, “my lads aren’t much of angels, and they can’t fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven’t had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.—Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!” and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack.

“To be sure,” said the sergeant sharply. “Well, we are waiting. You know the way better than we do. Up you go.”

The constable turned upon him in astonishment, blowing out his cheeks and seeming to make his eyes roll, while his naturally rotund figure began more and more to assume the appearance of a fat cork float.

“Me! Me! Me go up there!”

“To be sure,” said the sergeant. “You country chaps are used to this sort of thing. My lads are not. Scaling ladders is more in our way, and they are bad enough when you have got to carry your Brown Bess.”

“To be sure,” said the gardener, chiming in, with a grin of satisfaction. “That’s right enough, sergeant. Up you go, Fatty!”

“You will get yourself into trouble, Joe Hanson,” said the constable pompously. “This here’s the second time I have warned you. You, sergeant—you know I can’t get up there at my time of life, and it’s your duty to send your men. I order you, in the King’s name, to search that roof.”

“Oh, very well,” said the sergeant gruffly. “Here, number one and two, stand your muskets up against the wall. No, one of you only. You, Jem Cogan; you are a light one. Up you go. You are not quite so heavy as the constable here.”

“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed the gardener. “That’s a good one!” And he bent down to slap his knees, while, to the constable’s great disgust, the hoarse laugh was echoed in the shape of a titter uttered by the two maids, who had come to the back kitchen door.

Gusset blew out his cheeks again, and moved slowly towards the foot of the ladder, where, as the soldier placed his musket against the sill of one of the lower windows and then began lightly to ascend, Gusset set his feet very far apart, as if in imitation of the ladder, planted his fat hands upon his hips, and began to follow the private’s movements, leaning somewhat back the while.

All at once there was a quick movement in the little group round the foot of the ladder, for, partly moved by the spirit of mischief, as well as by the intense desire to create a diversion, Waller made a rush.

“Hold hard a minute, soldier!” he shouted. “I know the way best; let me come first.”

As he spoke he literally charged at the constable, who was now leaning backwards a little out of his perpendicular, and came heavily in contact with him, forcing the man to make a snatch at one of the rounds to save himself from falling.

The next moment the top of the ladder began to glide sideways, describing an arc as it rustled through the ivy. The mounting soldier, feeling it go, made a jump to alight upon his feet, but, not having time to properly judge his distance, he came down upon the constable instead, and there followed a short scuffle, out of which Waller was the first to gain his feet, to turn savagely upon the heavy, sitting man, and exclaim, amidst roars of laughter:

“Why did you do that?”

“Yes,” shouted the gardener; “I saw him pull it over. Just look here, Master Waller! Here’s my beautiful new ladder snapped in two!”

It was a fact. There lay the pieces; and the soldier, whose face had flushed with rage, but who was not hurt, now joined in the laughter of those around, while the constable still sat looking piteously about, as if for the sympathy that did not come.

The sergeant was the next to speak; as he bent over and held out his hand.

“Well, you have done it now, master,” he said. “I shouldn’t have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that.”

“Oh!” groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. “Help me, please! I think there’s something broke!”

“Not there,” said the sergeant cheerily. “You wouldn’t break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn’t my men’s fault.”

“No, of course not,” said Waller. “They couldn’t help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking.”

Meanwhile Gusset was “set upon his pins,” again, as the sergeant expressed it—in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.

“Well, this is all waste of time, my lads,” said the sergeant, pulling himself together. “I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose.”

“You’ll get no more of my ladders to break,” said the gardener, wagging his head, “in the King’s name or out of the King’s name.”

“What!” cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.

“Well, how can you,” said the gardener, “when there aren’t none? There’s two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn’t catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try.”

“The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant,” came from the kitchen door at that moment.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.

“Well, master,” he said, “my lads aren’t much of angels, and they can’t fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven’t had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.—Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!” and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack.

Chapter Eighteen.The Search Relinquished.The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of Brackendene.The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party, he had a right to partake of the refreshments.But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump, pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his way.“Well?” she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce—which was a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset’s was one of those countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little comic when temper had the sway.“No, not well, Martha,” said the constable plaintively; “but I don’t think I am very much hurt.”“Serve you right if you were,” said the cook, “coming here like this when master’s out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make people believe what a great person you are! They don’t know you like I do. Well, what do you want?”“The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged myself here to have mine.”“Dragged? Rolled, you mean!” cried his sister. “You grow more and more like a tub every day.”“But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear,” said the constable, with an attempt at a smile.“Not in my kitchen if they do,” said Martha, with a snort; “and Master Waller never meantyouto come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I am put out I speak my mind, and I’m put out now so there!”Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.That lunch was rather prolonged, and, as he listened, Waller, with his hands in his pockets, marched up and down the hall, frowning and thinking till he recalled the breaking of the ladder and the aspect of the village constable, when his frown faded away as if by magic, and, throwing himself into one of the big old oak hall chairs, he rolled about in it, laughing silently till he cried.At last a sharp order rang out in the kitchen, and though he could not see, Waller heard the men spring to their feet and march out into the yard, where he followed quickly, in time to see them take their piled muskets, while Joe Hanson, the gardener, who had been playing his part at the lunch with greater zeal than he bestowed upon his mowing or digging, busied himself with picking up the broken ladder, grinning across at Tony Gusset the while.Directly after there were a few parting words passing between Waller and the sergeant, the men joining in giving their young host a cheer, which struck very emptily upon Gusset’s ear, and made him mutter vows about being even some day, as he scuffled across to get close up to the soldiers and march with them back to the village.And now that all danger seemed to be over, Waller’s spirits rose, and, in company with the gardener, he walked with the search-party along the drive, out at the gate, and along the road to the edge of the Squire’s estate, keeping up a running fire the while to harass the rear of the column, which was formed by Tony Gusset, the actual rearguard being composed of the sergeant, who fell back with the pair from the Manor to march along silently and solemnly, though thoroughly enjoying the impromptu fun.The gardener commenced it by calling out in an excited tone, as if he had suddenly recalled something:“Here, hi! Gusset!”“Yes,” said the man, stopping, to turn round his great full-moon face.“Why, you didn’t take the soldiers to look at the cucumber-frames. Bound to say there’s one of them there spies lying snug under the leaves.”“Ugh!” grunted the constable angrily; and he turned again and went on.“I say, don’t be in such a hurry; there’s the sea-kale pots, too.”“Ah, to be sure!” cried Waller, loud enough for the constable to hear. “Gusset must be right. Better come back and have another look. He may be in one of the sties disguised as a pig.”Just then the road was leading them along by the bank of a fine old hammer pond, a great black-looking pool surrounded by a dense growth of alders and water-loving shrubs, while sedge, reed, and rush flourished wonderfully, and formed a mazy home for the abundant moorhens and coots.As the party moved onward to the village there was a sudden rush and a splash, and Waller called upon the sergeant to stop.“Here’s a likely place, sergeant,” he said.“Nonsense!” said the man, “I know what that splash was. It was a big pike.”“It might have been,” said the gardener, grinning, “but it’s more like the sort of splash a French spy would make when he saw soldiers’ scarlet jackets. Why don’t you make old Waxy dive in and have a hunt all round under the bushes?”“No, don’t, sergeant,” put in Waller. “It’s ten feet deep in some places.”“Pooh! What does that matter?” cried the gardener, who, like the boy, spoke loud enough for the constable to hear. “He wouldn’t mind. He’d sink to the bottom and walk about safely all over the mud.”“That he wouldn’t,” cried Waller. “He’d shoot up to the top again like a cork.”And then the banter ceased, for the sergeant’s men passed through the swing gate, and to Waller’s great relief he was able to make his way back to the hall, very silent now as he went over the day’s proceedings, and thought of the chances of the men coming back to make a fresh search, while the gardener kept on harping metaphorically upon the broken ladder, and what “master would say” when he came back.At last the boy got rid of him, and made his way into the house, where he had a hard fight to curb his inclinations to rush up at once to his room.This desire he kept down till he had made sure that the servants were at their dinner, and then, after a cautious saunter about the grounds to convince himself that the gardener had gone to his cottage, Waller hurried up, and paused breathlessly at the door of his den, which he opened and closed, and then locked himself in.The next minute he had crept out of the window, to hold on by the sill and feel with his feet amongst the ivy for the stone gutter which ran all along the front of the house. Upon this, half hidden by the ivy, he proceeded cautiously to his right, where a deep gully between two gables went right across the house, with the ivy positively rioting and pretty well filling it up with long strands and great berry-bearing clumps. Here, completely hidden, Waller crept along three or four yards.“Only me,” he said merrily, “Don’t shoot! How are you getting on?”A head and shoulders were slowly raised from among the thick glossy leaves, and he was confronted by Godfrey’s sombre countenance.“Miserably,” he said. “I had hoped that this despicable hiding was at an end. Pray help me to-night to get away.”“Oh, I know what’s the matter with you,” cried Waller. “You are hungry and tired out. But come along back into my room. But I say, you found it easy enough to get here, didn’t you? I was in a fright at first; then I thought that you would be sure to creep out.”“Oh, yes, easy enough,” said the lad. “Is the enemy quite gone?”“Yes, right away, and well satisfied. They won’t come again.”“Why do you speak like that?” said Godfrey, sharply. “It sounded as if you were afraid that somebody else would come.”“Well,” said Waller slowly, “I am not quite satisfied about our fat-headed constable. He’s very suspicious, and wanted to search the roof. But I managed to put a stop to that, for if they had got up here you must have been found.”“Yes,” said Godfrey, as, after following his companion back through the ivy, he seated himself, away from the window, in the den, where Waller related to him the history of the raising of the ladder.“That man believes I am here, and will come again. It is quite time you got me away. It was he who came prowling round the house last night, and not your gardener—a big, heavy man, not like Hanson at all.”“Yes, you are right,” said Waller; “and he must have seen you in the lane and gone and sought out the soldiers at once.”

The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of Brackendene.

The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party, he had a right to partake of the refreshments.

But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump, pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his way.

“Well?” she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce—which was a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset’s was one of those countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little comic when temper had the sway.

“No, not well, Martha,” said the constable plaintively; “but I don’t think I am very much hurt.”

“Serve you right if you were,” said the cook, “coming here like this when master’s out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make people believe what a great person you are! They don’t know you like I do. Well, what do you want?”

“The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged myself here to have mine.”

“Dragged? Rolled, you mean!” cried his sister. “You grow more and more like a tub every day.”

“But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear,” said the constable, with an attempt at a smile.

“Not in my kitchen if they do,” said Martha, with a snort; “and Master Waller never meantyouto come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I am put out I speak my mind, and I’m put out now so there!”

Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.

That lunch was rather prolonged, and, as he listened, Waller, with his hands in his pockets, marched up and down the hall, frowning and thinking till he recalled the breaking of the ladder and the aspect of the village constable, when his frown faded away as if by magic, and, throwing himself into one of the big old oak hall chairs, he rolled about in it, laughing silently till he cried.

At last a sharp order rang out in the kitchen, and though he could not see, Waller heard the men spring to their feet and march out into the yard, where he followed quickly, in time to see them take their piled muskets, while Joe Hanson, the gardener, who had been playing his part at the lunch with greater zeal than he bestowed upon his mowing or digging, busied himself with picking up the broken ladder, grinning across at Tony Gusset the while.

Directly after there were a few parting words passing between Waller and the sergeant, the men joining in giving their young host a cheer, which struck very emptily upon Gusset’s ear, and made him mutter vows about being even some day, as he scuffled across to get close up to the soldiers and march with them back to the village.

And now that all danger seemed to be over, Waller’s spirits rose, and, in company with the gardener, he walked with the search-party along the drive, out at the gate, and along the road to the edge of the Squire’s estate, keeping up a running fire the while to harass the rear of the column, which was formed by Tony Gusset, the actual rearguard being composed of the sergeant, who fell back with the pair from the Manor to march along silently and solemnly, though thoroughly enjoying the impromptu fun.

The gardener commenced it by calling out in an excited tone, as if he had suddenly recalled something:

“Here, hi! Gusset!”

“Yes,” said the man, stopping, to turn round his great full-moon face.

“Why, you didn’t take the soldiers to look at the cucumber-frames. Bound to say there’s one of them there spies lying snug under the leaves.”

“Ugh!” grunted the constable angrily; and he turned again and went on.

“I say, don’t be in such a hurry; there’s the sea-kale pots, too.”

“Ah, to be sure!” cried Waller, loud enough for the constable to hear. “Gusset must be right. Better come back and have another look. He may be in one of the sties disguised as a pig.”

Just then the road was leading them along by the bank of a fine old hammer pond, a great black-looking pool surrounded by a dense growth of alders and water-loving shrubs, while sedge, reed, and rush flourished wonderfully, and formed a mazy home for the abundant moorhens and coots.

As the party moved onward to the village there was a sudden rush and a splash, and Waller called upon the sergeant to stop.

“Here’s a likely place, sergeant,” he said.

“Nonsense!” said the man, “I know what that splash was. It was a big pike.”

“It might have been,” said the gardener, grinning, “but it’s more like the sort of splash a French spy would make when he saw soldiers’ scarlet jackets. Why don’t you make old Waxy dive in and have a hunt all round under the bushes?”

“No, don’t, sergeant,” put in Waller. “It’s ten feet deep in some places.”

“Pooh! What does that matter?” cried the gardener, who, like the boy, spoke loud enough for the constable to hear. “He wouldn’t mind. He’d sink to the bottom and walk about safely all over the mud.”

“That he wouldn’t,” cried Waller. “He’d shoot up to the top again like a cork.”

And then the banter ceased, for the sergeant’s men passed through the swing gate, and to Waller’s great relief he was able to make his way back to the hall, very silent now as he went over the day’s proceedings, and thought of the chances of the men coming back to make a fresh search, while the gardener kept on harping metaphorically upon the broken ladder, and what “master would say” when he came back.

At last the boy got rid of him, and made his way into the house, where he had a hard fight to curb his inclinations to rush up at once to his room.

This desire he kept down till he had made sure that the servants were at their dinner, and then, after a cautious saunter about the grounds to convince himself that the gardener had gone to his cottage, Waller hurried up, and paused breathlessly at the door of his den, which he opened and closed, and then locked himself in.

The next minute he had crept out of the window, to hold on by the sill and feel with his feet amongst the ivy for the stone gutter which ran all along the front of the house. Upon this, half hidden by the ivy, he proceeded cautiously to his right, where a deep gully between two gables went right across the house, with the ivy positively rioting and pretty well filling it up with long strands and great berry-bearing clumps. Here, completely hidden, Waller crept along three or four yards.

“Only me,” he said merrily, “Don’t shoot! How are you getting on?”

A head and shoulders were slowly raised from among the thick glossy leaves, and he was confronted by Godfrey’s sombre countenance.

“Miserably,” he said. “I had hoped that this despicable hiding was at an end. Pray help me to-night to get away.”

“Oh, I know what’s the matter with you,” cried Waller. “You are hungry and tired out. But come along back into my room. But I say, you found it easy enough to get here, didn’t you? I was in a fright at first; then I thought that you would be sure to creep out.”

“Oh, yes, easy enough,” said the lad. “Is the enemy quite gone?”

“Yes, right away, and well satisfied. They won’t come again.”

“Why do you speak like that?” said Godfrey, sharply. “It sounded as if you were afraid that somebody else would come.”

“Well,” said Waller slowly, “I am not quite satisfied about our fat-headed constable. He’s very suspicious, and wanted to search the roof. But I managed to put a stop to that, for if they had got up here you must have been found.”

“Yes,” said Godfrey, as, after following his companion back through the ivy, he seated himself, away from the window, in the den, where Waller related to him the history of the raising of the ladder.

“That man believes I am here, and will come again. It is quite time you got me away. It was he who came prowling round the house last night, and not your gardener—a big, heavy man, not like Hanson at all.”

“Yes, you are right,” said Waller; “and he must have seen you in the lane and gone and sought out the soldiers at once.”

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