While the rest of the force proceeded to Lancaster, shaping their course along the lovely valley of the Lune, and keeping near the banks of the river, Colonel Oxburgh, with a party of horse, composed entirely of gentlemen, went to Hornby Castle for the purpose of arresting its owner, Colonel Charteris, and taking him a prisoner to Lancaster.

Colonel Charteris, condemned to deathless infamy by Hogarth, belonged to a Scotch family, and had rendered himself so odious to his countrymen by his vices, that if the Highlanders had been allowed to visit Hornby Castle, they would undoubtedly have burnt it to the ground, and have shot its owner if they had caught him.

A profligate debauchee of the worst kind, Colonel Charteris was also one of the meanest of men, and cunning as mean. But he was very rich, and about two years prior to the date of our story, he had purchased Hornby Castle, where he now dwelt, from the Earl of Cardigan, for fifteen thousand pounds. He had made some alterations—but not improvements—in the place, and had disfigured the old keep by rearing a watch-tower on its summit, above which he fixed a great gilt eagle.

From its bold position on a craggy hill, the sides of which were clothed with timber, while its base was washed by the river Wenning, Hornby Castle, before its partial demolition in the Civil Wars, must have presented a very striking appearance.

The ancient part of the structure was now in ruins—all that remained of it being a few picturesque walls overgrown with ivy, and the great square tower, to which allusion has just been made.

Adjoining these ruins, and to a certain degree combined with them, was a large modern stone mansion, in front of which a steep lawn descended, between avenues of timber, to the park at the foot of the hill.

No information respecting Colonel Charteris could be obtained at the pretty little village of Hornby. The inhabitants could not, or would not, tell whether he was at the castle. It was, therefore, in a state of the utmost uncertainty that Colonel Oxburgh and his troop mounted the steep ascent. The probability, indeed, seemed that a person so cautious as Colonel Charteris would have decamped on hearing that the insurgents were close at hand.

On approaching the castle, which he thought much too good for its unworthy owner, Colonel Oxburgh rode up to the principal entrance and caused the bell to be loudly rung. Hitherto, no servants had appeared from whom inquiries could be made, and it would almost seem that the place was deserted. The summons, however, was promptly answered by a porter, who stated that his master had gone to Lancaster.

“Who is in the castle, then?” demanded Colonel Ox-burgh. “Take care you don't deceive me, fellow.”

“Only Mr. Bancroft, the steward, and two old women,” replied the porter. “Colonel Charteris has taken all the rest of the servants with him to Lancaster. But here comes Mr. Bancroft.”

As he spoke, a singular-looking individual made his appearance, and descending the steps respectfully saluted the insurgent leader.

Mr. Bancroft was an elderly man, rather high-shouldered and clad in an old-fashioned, snuff-coloured suit. He wore what was then called a night-cap wig, and on his large and prominent nose rested a pair of green spectacles, through which he eyed the visitor.

“Colonel Charteris is absent, sir,” he said. “He went to Lancaster yesterday.”

“So I have just heard,” replied the other. “But you must excuse me, Mr. Bancroft, if I decline to take your assurance on that point. My men will search the castle.”

“As you please, sir,” replied the steward. “But depend upon it they won't find him. Won't you please to alight, and come in?”

“Such is my intention,” replied the colonel, springing from his horse and giving the bridle to the trooper nearest to him. “Let a dozen men follow me,” he added. “The rest will take the horses to the stable—feed them—and then come to the house.”

“It shall be done, colonel,” said the trooper.

“Excuse me, colonel,” said Bancroft. “They'll find the stable doors locked. My master has taken the keys with him.”

“Break open the doors,” cried Colonel Oxburgh.

“If they do, they'll find no forage inside,” said Bancroft. “All the hay and corn has been removed.”

“Never was there such a rascal?” cried Colonel Oxburgh, furiously. “Well, do the best you can,” he added, to his followers. “Put up the horses, and then come to the house.”

“To prevent disappointment,” said Bancroft, with a malicious grin, “I had better mention beforehand that they will find no provisions.”

“No provisions!” exclaimed the colonel, while the troopers who were within hearing looked aghast:

“The larder's empty, sir, I'm sorry to say,” pursued the steward; “and what's worse, there's not a bottle of wine in the cellar.”

Murmurs and threats arose from the men.

“If your master acts thus, he must take the consequences,” observed Colonel Oxburgh. “He deserves the bad character he has acquired.”

The steward did not like the tone in which the remark was made, and looked as if he would be glad to escape, but this being impossible, he asked Colonel Oxburgh into the house.

As he entered the hall with his men, Colonel Oxburgh Stopped him, and said:

“A word with you, Mr. Bancroft. You say there are no provisions in the house—no food for the horses in the stables.”

“I do, colonel,” replied the other.

“I won't dispute the truth of your statement, but I have some orders to give you, which you will be pleased to execute. While I search the house see that a plentiful repast is set out for me and my followers in the diningroom——”

“I cannot accomplish impossibilities, colonel,” interrupted the steward.

“I require good wine for myself and my men. No discussion. It must be done. Two of my party will attend upon you, and shoot you through the head if you attempt to escape. The rest will remain with me.”

Leaving the steward quite confounded by what he had heard, in charge of a couple of troopers, Colonel Oxburgh made a thorough search of the house, peering into every room, but he did not find the person he sought, and began to think Colonel Charteris had really fled.

On repairing to the dining-room he was agreeably surprised to find a cold collation laid out on a long table.

“Aha! Mr. Bancroft,” he exclaimed, “you have performed wonders, I see. Is this the work of magic?”

“It turned out on examination that the larder was better furnished than I imagined, colonel,” said the steward.

“I thought as much,” rejoined Colonel Oxburgh. “After all, we shall not fare badly.”

“Nor will the horses, colonel,” observed one of the gentlemen troopers coming up to him. “We have found plenty of fodder in the stable.”

The colonel laughed heartily.

“What do you say to this, sir?” he remarked to the steward.

“Simply that I obeyed my master's orders,” he rejoined.

“Your master is a miserable niggard,” said the colonel, signing to his followers to sit down, and taking the chair at the head of the table.

They were waited on by a couple of menservants, who had been discovered in the butler's pantry, and were supplied with abundance of claret.

At the conclusion of the repast King James's health was drunk by the whole party with loud cheers. Not only was the steward compelled to join in the toast, but to drink “Success to the insurgent army.”

When the moment of departure arrived, and the steward thought he was about to get rid of his unwelcome visitors, Colonel Oxburgh said to him:

“We shan't part company at present, Mr. Bancroft. I shall be compelled to take you with me to Lancaster.”

“As a prisoner, colonel?”

“As a prisoner, sir!”

“But what have I done? What crime have I committed?”

“That General Forster will judge. I have his orders to arrest you.”

“Your orders, if I mistake not, are to arrest Colonel Charteris.”

“Exactly. But in arresting you I don't think I shall be far wrong.”

“I can assure you, sir——”

“Nay, 'tis vain to deny it. From the first I suspected you were Colonel Charteris, and my suspicions have since become confirmed. 'Twill be best to accompany me quietly. Resistance will be useless?”

“Very well,” rejoined the other. “Since you have seen through my disguise, I won't attempt to maintain it longer. I am Colonel Charteris. Allow me to put up a few things, and I will go with you. Don't be alarmed. I give you my word of honour I will return.”

“Your word of honour!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh, contemptuously. “I place little reliance upon it. A guard must accompany you while you make your preparations.”

“You wrong me by this distrust, colonel,” said Charteris, as he quitted the room, closely followed by a couple of troopers.

Ascending the great staircase, he proceeded deliberately along a corridor, until he came to a particular bed-chamber, where he stopped, saying to the guard, as he went in, “I won't detain you long.”

The troopers remained at the door. But as he did not come forth within a reasonable time, they entered the room, and to their astonishment and dismay found it empty.

They searched about—in the closets, behind the curtains, under the bed, and in every place, likely and unlikely, but failed to find him—nor could they comprehend how he had got off, since there appeared to be no other exit but the door.

On going downstairs, they found Colonel Oxburgh impatiently awaiting them in the hall. The entrance door was standing wide open, and showed the troop drawn up outside, and ready for instant departure. The colonel was greatly exasperated when he learnt what had happened.

“I ought to have known better,” he mentally ejaculated, “than to trust a man without a spark of honour. However, if he falls into my hands again, he shall not escape so easily.”

Though despairing of success, Colonel Oxburgh would not leave without making an effort to re-capture the fugitive.

On careful examination of the bed-chamber in question, he discovered a secret door, connected with a passage leading to the ruins of the old castle, where no doubt the fugitive had found a safe hiding-place. As it was evident further search would be useless, Colonel Oxburgh departed with his men.

Little did he think as he rode down the hill, that Colonel Charteris was watching him from the summit of the keep, and laughing at the clever manner in which he had outwitted his visitor.