"He has quit his horse, and the guard have captured it," cried out a messenger a moment later. "Ah, well; then will they soon have the man too, even though they search every house, barn, and hen-coop in the town; Colonel Tarleton does nothing by halves," laughed his lordship. "Come, Mistress Cheshire, let us back to our game; ere we end it, the fellow will be in the toils." They went slowly back into the house, Joscelyn striving to steady her nerves by long, deep breaths; but as they drew their chairs again about the tables, there came from the story above a crash as of breaking chinaware. Everybody looked up expectant, and Mistress Cheshire rose. "I will go," cried Joscelyn, glad to escape, and pushing her mother gently back into her chair. "'Tis no doubt that troublesome cat again; he broke one of my flower jars last week." She tripped upstairs, calling back to his lordship to deal and have the hands ready for she would be absent only a moment. In the upper hall all was silence and semi-darkness. She went first to her own room, pausing just long enough to press her hands hard upon her temples before passing from it to her mother's, calling the cat the while very softly. A fire of logs burned in her mother's fireplace, so that she wondered at the cold breath of air that smote her as she entered; then she started,--a back window was open and the pot of plants which had stood upon the ledge lay shattered on the floor. A swift annoyance flashed upon her at the maid's neglect, so that she went forward and closed the sash with a spirited promptness. Picking up a bit of the broken shard, and facing about from the window in search of the cat, she suddenly became aware of a man's figure in the shadowy corner opposite. Instinctively she opened her mouth for a nervous cry, but with an imperative gesture for silence, he stepped forward, and even in the dim light she knew it was Richard Clevering. The scream died upon her lips, and for a moment the objects in the room spun before her. "You--_you_?" and even in whispering her voice was strained and shaken. "Yes; it was this or death--they had run me to the wall." "But the house is full of British soldiers--Lord Cornwallis and his whole staff--" "So much the better; the place will be above suspicion." "Mistress Joscelyn, Mistress Joscelyn!" cried a dozen voices from below, while chairs were being pushed about, and some one struck a few notes on the spinet. "And I myself, sir, am a true Loyalist and cannot harbour--" There was a footstep on the stair. "Mistress Joscelyn, we be coming up to help you catch the cat!" cried Barry's voice. Richard sprang toward her, "My God, Joscelyn! you will not give me up like that?" But the steps were halfway up the stair, and she was already turning the knob of the door, her face like marble in the leaping firelight. [Illustration: "'MY GOD, JOSCELYN, YOU WILL NOT GIVE ME UP LIKE THAT!'"] CHAPTER XXII. "SEARCH MY LADY'S WARDROBE."