“I shall be back in half an hour,” I explained. “After that I will be answerable.” “Very good,” he rejoined. “But you know what you are doing? You have no doubt I suppose? Burton has the Chief’s ear, and Webster believes in him and makes much of him. There’ll be the deuce of a fracas if he’s arrested and there’s nothing in it.” “Do you arrest him if he leaves the house,” I said, “and leave it to me to explain. I don’t think he will, and as long as he remains upstairs let him be. That’s clear, is it not?” He allowed that it was, and with a heavy heart I left him in charge and went on my errand. I suppose that there were the same splashes of red among the trees, where the King’s uniform peeped through the foliage, the same men lounging about, the same squads practicing the Norfolk discipline, the same rack of thin clouds passing across the sunshine, the same drum playing the Retreat and the Tattoo, or the plaintive notes of Roslyn Castle. But I neither saw nor heard any of these things. My whole mind was bent on finding my lord and getting an express—no matter on what excuse—sent after Wemyss to warn him, and to put him on his guard. An orderly on a swift horse might still by hard riding overtake him; and such a message as “the enemy expect you to-morrow night, but do not expect you to-night—have a care” might avail. At worst it would relieve my conscience, at the same time that it lessened the heavy weight of responsibility that crushed me. I should then have done all that I could, and nearly all that could be done, were the truth known. But my lord was not at Headquarters, nor could they say where he was; and when I sought Webster, who had his lodgings at a tavern, a hundred yards farther down the road, he, too, was away. He had gone to visit the outposts eastward. Time was passing, Wemyss had a start of two hours, and was himself riding express; every moment that I lost made it more doubtful if he could be overtaken. With a groan I gave up the idea, and, turning about, I made the best of my way back towards Paton’s quarters. Fifty yards short of the house whom should I meet but Haybittle, red-faced, grey-haired, and dogged, his green uniform shabby with hard usage. He was riding up the street with an orderly behind him, and when he saw me, he pulled his horse across the road and hailed me with a grin. “Major,” he said, “What’s this? There’s a young woman of the name of Simms hunting you like a wild cat. It’s easy to see what it is she has against you! Come, I didn’t think it of you—really I didn’t, Major! A man of your—” “Pooh!” I cried, “it’s her husband that she wishes to hear of.” “Oh, of course, it’s always the husband is the trouble!” he laughed. “You are right there!” “Well, come on,” I answered irritably, “I want to hear about the woman, but I cannot stop now. Come to Paton’s and tell me what she said. He’s waiting for me, and he’s next for duty. I am late as it is!”