When William Armstrong awoke, he thought he had overslept himself, for the trampling of horses sounded in the paved courtyard below. The one window of his room, over which he had drawn and fastened heavy wooden shutters the night before, let in a thread of light which showed him a new day had come, and the activity in the yard made him fear he had lain longer abed than was his custom. He was the more convinced of this in that he remembered hazily the clattering hoofs of a horse some time before, and then later, another being led out; now there appeared to be a third, and the hum of talk came up to him. His window overlooked the stable yard, and he recognized the mumble of the hostler who had assisted him yesterday. He lay still, half drowsed, the mattress most alluring to him, when suddenly he was startled wide awake by a voice he knew. “Then I turn to the left for Broughton?” “Yes, sir,” muttered the hostler. Armstrong leaped from his bed, placed his eye at the chink in the shutters, and peered down into the stable yard. The voice had not misled him. De Courcy, sitting on a horse, was just gathering up the reins and departing. The Scot lost no time in pulling on his boots, pushing aside the bed, unbolting the door, and making his way down the stair. What did this gaily plumaged bird of ill-omen here in the country of the Parliament, when his place was beside the King? Was there treachery afoot? It looked like it. Once outside, he saw it was still early, with the sun scarcely risen. He accosted the yawning hostler. “Who was that man you were directing to Broughton?” “I don ’t know, sir.” “When did he arrive?” “Last night, sir, after dark.” “Did he stop in this house?” “Yes, sir. I thought he was a friend of yours, for he knew your horse when I was putting up his own. He asked if you were here, and I told him you were in the room over the yard.” “What is Broughton; a hamlet?” “It is a castle, sir. Lord Say’s castle, about three miles from here. General Cromwell is there now; it is his headquarters in this district.” “Cromwell!” The young man stood stock still, his eyes gazing into vacancy. What traffic had this King’s Chamberlain with Cromwell? How dared he come within the Parliamentary lines, undisguised, unless--unless----Like inspiration the whole situation flashed upon him. De Courcy knew the burden he carried, and had seen where it was placed. He was on his way to sell his secret and set the troops on the track of the messenger. He must be off at once and outride the traitor. Before De Courcy had gone his three miles, he would have traversed a dozen, and from then on it would be a race to the Scottish border. “Is my horse fed?” “Yes, sir.” “Get him out at once. I will arouse the others.” He took three steps toward the inn, then stopped as if shot, his hand clutching his breast. “By God, he’s got the thing itself. Robbed, as I’m a sinner!”