ABOUT ten o'clock on the same day, the high sheriff, accompanied by a score of well-mounted yeomen, armed with various weapons, arrived at Dilston Castle. The gate was open, and without saying a word to the porter, he rode into the court, followed by Jesmond and a groom, leaving the yeomen on guard outside.

Charles Radclyffe who was standing at the entrance of the mansion, came down the steps to meet him, and a formal salutation passed between them.

“You will not be surprised at my visit, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff. “I have come here in the execution of a painful duty, and desire to discharge it as lightly as I can. Be pleased to tell your brother, Lord Derwentwater, that a certain important person, whom I am aware is his guest, must be delivered up to me.”

“In reply to your demand, Sir William,” replied Charles Radclyffe, firmly, “I have to inform you that there are no guests in the castle and that Lord Derwentwater himself is absent.”

The sheriff looked confounded, and consulted Jesmond by a glance.

The latter shook his head to intimate that the assertion ought not to be credited.

“Excuse me, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff, “I can understand that you consider yourself justified in denying that the Pretender is here. But I have proof to the contrary. This man beheld him yesterday.”

“I saw him in your company, Mr. Radclyffe,” said Jes-mond. “I heard you and several others address him as your majesty.”

“What have you to say to this, sir?” said the sheriff.

“I might say that the man is mistaken, but I will not,” replied Charles. “I will content myself with stating that the person he beheld, and whom he fancied was the Chevalier de Saint George, is gone.”

“This will be vexatious, if it should turn out correct,” muttered the sheriff.

“Don't believe it, Sir William,” cried Jesmond. “Depend upon it, we shall find him.”

“I have given you my positive assurance, which ought to be sufficient, Sir William,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But if you still entertain any doubts, pray search the house—question the servants—take any steps you think proper.

“I intend to do so, sir,” rejoined the sheriff dismounting, and giving his horse to the groom.

Jesmond likewise dismounted, and followed him.

On the steps the sheriff encountered Newbiggin, and some others of the servants, who corroborated Charles Radclyffe's assertions; and in the entrance hall he found Father Norham, with whom he was acquainted, and whom he respectfully saluted.

“Your reverence knows my business,” he remarked. “Will you aid me?”

“You cannot expect me to do so, Sir William,” replied the priest. “But I will tell you frankly, that no one is concealed here.”

“Has the Pretender fled?” demanded the sheriff.

“The Pretender has never been here, Sir William.”

“This is mere equivocation, sir,” cried the sheriff. “I will not be trifled with. I will search the house from top to bottom, but I will find him. Come with me!” he added to Newbiggin.

Attended by the butler, and assisted by Jesmond, he then went upstairs, and peered into a great many rooms, but soon gave up the fruitless search.

“I told you how it would be, Sir William,” observed the priest, amused by his discomfited air, as he returned to the hall. “This is a large house, and if you were to search every room in it you would find it a tedious business. Once more, I tell you the person you seek is not here.”

“Will you tell me whither he is gone?”

“No; you must find that out for yourself, Sir William. You will act wisely if you abandon the quest altogether.”

“No—no! that must not be,” cried the sheriff.

“Certainly not, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “Leave me to make further investigations. I warrant you I'll discover something.”

Receiving permission to do as he pleased, Jesmond proceeded to the stables, and in about ten minutes came back to the sheriff, whom he found in the court-yard.

The smile on his countenance betokened success.

“I've found it all out, Sir William,” he cried. “You won't be disappointed. A large party on horseback left this morning—but the Pretender was not one of them.”

“Then he is here, still?”

“No, Sir William; he went away in Sir John Webb's coach.”

“In a coach!—then we may overtake him!”

“Undoubtedly. The carriage is large and heavy, and doesn't travel more than three or four miles an hour. We shall catch him before he gets to Morpeth.”

“Is he gone in that direction?”

“He is, Sir William. I told you I'd find out something, and you must own that I've managed to put you on the right scent.”

“You have,” cried the sheriff, jumping on his horse. “Follow me, gentlemen!—follow me!”—he called out to the yeomen, who had been waiting all this time outside the gate.

Next minute they were rattling down the avenue, with the sheriff at their head.

We may be sure Jesmond was not left behind.