Upon the receipt of the unwelcome news which the ostler had brought to them, Edmund Wynne's confederates at once departed from the city, and under the leadership of Sir Ronald Bury hastened on, with few rests, to the wilds of Derbyshire, to perform the deed, still enshrouded in mystery, which they had been hired, if necessary, to perform. Blissfully unconscious of the trap into which he was rushing, and wholly contemptuous of the idea of being benighted, the lord of Haddon rode fearlessly on. The way was dark to be sure, but he knew it well, and what added to his confidence was the fact that he was right in the very heart of his own possessions. He had barely ridden a couple of furlongs, though, before his horse became restive, and in response to a free application of both whip and spur only pricked up its ears and advanced in a more unsatisfactory manner than before. Still suspecting nothing, the baron applied the whip more vigorously. He perceived, clearly enough, that his charger was frightened at something or other, and to inspire it with a little of his own courage he started to whistle a lively tune which he had heard Dorothy play upon the spinet till he got it well by heart. The tune was never finished, for barely had he begun it when the branch of a tree, which was hurled at him from the side of the road, completely unhorsed him and sent him rolling into the ditch on the other side. Before he could rise or place himself in any posture of defence he was roughly seized, and in spite of his struggles was carried away as helpless as a child, whilst to aggravate his position his eyes were tightly blindfolded. "What does this mean?" he shouted out in desperation; but no one deigned to answer. "I am Sir George Vernon," he added stoutly, but if he had thought that this was information, or that his captors would be inclined to quake before this declaration of his rank and person, he was sorely mistaken, and the brief answer they returned soon convinced him on the point. "We know it," they laughed; "we are no fools." "Nathan Grene," he passionately shouted, "you shall rue this day." He no longer wondered now at the non-appearance of his adversary; he felt confident that the recreant smith was there, and the thought of being thus within his power goaded him into a frenzy of passion. "Thou shalt live to rue this bitterly," he repeated, but before he could say anything further his mouth was filled with grass, and in spite of his attempts to speak he could no longer succeed in making himself heard. How far he was being carried he knew not, nor yet did he know the way; and beyond making a few desultory attempts to disengage his nether limbs from the vice-like grasp in which they were enclosed, the baron made no further attempts to free himself.