"I mean," he answered, leaning forward with his arms upon the table and speaking in a whisper, "I mean that I have certain knowledge that at any moment bloody civil war may again break out among us." "How, sir, and what proof?" I cried, springing to my feet. "Sit down," replied my father quietly. Then, opening a drawer, he drew therefrom a letter. "Here is my proof," he said, unfolding it, "though certes it was not for me; I found it wedged inside a larger document which came by post last night. Thus it had been overlooked. I opened it unthinkingly, and, when I saw the nature of its contents, kept it; and that rightly, as it seems to me. Read it," he added, holding the paper out across the table. ’Twas addressed to a man well known to us; one who had fought with Blake when he held Lyme so stoutly against Prince Maurice in the Civil Wars. The writing was a poor scrawl enough, and hard to read in parts, but this is how it ran:-- "Dated from London, 8th June, 1685. "FRIEND, "These are to advise thee that honest Protestants forthwith prepare and make themselves very ready, for they have notice here at Court that a Certain Person will forthwith appear in the West, which puts them here at Court into a most dreadful fear and confusion; ’tis hoped, therefore, that all honest men who are true Protestants will stick together and make ready for the trumpet call of Freedom. Argyle have had great success in Scotland, and have already destroyed great part of the King’s forces there; and we hear from good hands that he hath sure an army that doth increase so mightily daily that nothing can oppose them; and if they be once up in the West they would suddenly be up in all parts of England, all Protestants being certainly prepared and resolved rather to die than to live Slaves and Papists. Therefore make good use hereof, and impart it to such as you can trust, that you may all be prepared and ready against the appearance of a Certain Person, which will be forthwith if not already. "From your friend, "F.R." "This is a pretty riddle, sir," said I, laying down the letter. "Nay," quoth the old man, smiling at my puzzled look; "’tis plain as any horn-book. Who, think you, is the Certain Person named herein?" He touched the letter. "Nay, sir, I cannot tell," I answered. "Guess! The name begins with M." But as I knew several names beginning with that letter this information did not greatly help me; and though I was soon astonished that it had not done so, I could only shake my head and say: "I cannot guess." "Well, then, I will tell thee," said my father. "The Certain Person is none other than James, Duke of Monmouth." This time I sprang up so vehemently that over went my chair and I came near to following it. "What!" I cried. "Monmouth! That pretty fellow whom I saw five years ago at Colyton when he rode through the West so proudly, with thousands of fine gentlemen behind him?" "The very same," replied my father gravely.