"Nay, nay," said Montagu, waving his hand; "no more objections, Ned. Now send the lackey to me: I will go to bed as if I had no alteration of last night's arrangements in my mind. You had better go to your room, too, and obtain a little sleep. I know you can wake when you like." "I will go to my room," said Edward; "but I do not close my eyes to-night, my lord. I am not fond of leaving any thing to chance." "You must have another word," said Montagu, laughing. "Pooh! pooh! We shall pass, my boy. Now, good-night." Edward left him, sent the lackey to his room, went to the kitchen, where two of the stable-men were sleeping by the fire, roused one of them to give him a lamp, and retired to the chamber where young Abbot was snoring powerfully. But Edward was ill at ease. He thought that the precautions Lord Montagu had spoken of and ordered were not sufficient: he thought--as all men think, and young men especially--that his own plan was the best. However, he drew the charges of his pistols, loaded and primed them afresh; and then, sitting down at the window, where he had a view of the court-yard on one side and on the other a glance into the passage through the door which he left ajar, he waited, without moving a limb, for the coming of morning. CHAPTER XXXIII. At a quarter to four o'clock, Edward Langdale shook young Abbot by the shoulder and with some difficulty succeeded in waking him. "Quick, Abbot! get up!" he said. "Go down and saddle your horse: but make no noise. Do you understand me? No more than an owl. Go down and saddle your horse: do you hear? but be quiet about it." "What is in the wind?" said the other. "Nothing to you: but do as you are bidden," answered Edward, and took his way to Mr. Oakingham's room. Here he had more difficulty, for the door was locked or bolted, and he had to make some noise before the good gentleman would open it. "Why, what is the matter?" asked Oakingham. "Is the house on fire? It is quite dark." "Here, sir, light your lamp," said Edward. "My lord has changed his mind, and is going to set out directly. You will be left behind if you do not make haste." Oakingham swore a little; but Edward did not stay to listen, gave him his lamp, and turned toward the rooms of the servants, which lay at the end of the passage over the kitchen. The last chamber but one had been assigned to the two blacksmiths, and, as Edward was approaching quietly that where the lackey and the groom were housed, the shorter of the Savoyards, roused by the noise at Mr. Oakingham's door, put his head out. Edward walked on quietly, and, when he was abreast of the man, said, with an easy air, "You had better get your clothes on. You will be wanted presently." "Which horse?" asked the man, at once.