He had been somewhat bored by Squire West’s long-winded harangue, and was quite glad of an excuse for cutting it short. "Odd’s buds!" he said, "and what have we here? Eh?" The Sergeant and soldiers stood still at attention, some twenty yards away from the brilliant group of His Highness’s general staff. The little diversion had caused Squire West to lose the thread of his speech, and much relieved, the Duke beckoned the Sergeant to draw nearer. "Who are your prisoners, Sergeant?" queried His Highness, looking with some interest at the two young men, one of whom was a mere lad, whilst the other had a strange look of joy and pride in his pale face, an air of aloofness and detachment from all his surroundings, which puzzled and interested the Duke not a little. "’Tis a bit difficult to explain, your Royal Highness," replied the Sergeant, making the stiff military salute. "Difficult to explain who your prisoners are?" laughed the Duke, incredulously. "Saving your Highness’s presence," responded the Sergeant, "one of these gentlemen is Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton." "Oho! the young reprobate rebel who was hand-in-glove with the Pretender! I mind his case well, Sergeant, and the capture does your zeal great credit. Which of your prisoners is the Earl of Stretton?" "That’s just my trouble, your Royal Highness. But I hope that these papers will explain." And the Sergeant drew from his wallet the precious packet of letters and handed them respectfully to the Duke. "What are these letters?" "They were found on the person of that gentleman, sir," replied the Sergeant, indicating Sir Humphrey Challoner, who stood behind the two younger men, silent and sulky, and nursing desperate thoughts of revenge. "He is said to be an accomplice and I thought ’twas my duty to bring him before a magistrate. If I’ve done wrong...". "You’ve done quite right, Sergeant," said the Duke, firmly. "You were sent here to rid the country of rebels, whom an Act of Parliament has convicted of high treason, and it had been gross neglect of duty not to refer such a case to the nearest magistrate. Give me the papers, I’ll look through them anon. See your prisoners safely under guard, then come back to my quarters." "Damnation!" muttered Sir Humphrey, as he saw the Duke take the packet of letters from the Sergeant’s hand, and then turn away to listen to the fag end of Squire West’s loyal address. Throughout his chagrin, however, the Squire of Hartington was able to gloat over one comforting idea. He had now lost all chance of pressing his suit on Lady Patience, his actions in the past three days would inevitably cause her to look upon him with utter hatred and contempt, but the man who was the cause of his failure, the chivalrous and meddlesome highwayman, Beau Brocade, would, as sure as the sun would set this night, dangle on the nearest gibbet to-morrow. CHAPTER XXXVII REPARATION