Crosby did not sleep that night. Monmouth might come under cover of the darkness, and he waited and listened through the long hours. At break of day he was in the saddle again, but did not ride far afield. He hardly left his own land, and it was evident that Lenfield was surrounded. In the afternoon he returned home, unconscious that Monmouth had been taken during the morning, found in a ditch clad in a shepherd's dress, and was already on his way to Ringwood. "Monmouth is taken," whispered Golding as Crosby dismounted. "How do you know that? Who told you?" "A man who came two hours ago. He is waiting." "Is he a friend, do you think, Golding?" "I do not know," Golding answered. "He said he would wait until you came, and then demanded to be taken to the stables, where he tended his own horse. A masterful man, Master Gilbert, but whether a friend or an enemy who can tell?" "We will soon see," said Crosby; and as he turned to go to this stranger Golding laid a hand on his arm. "If there is danger, Master Gilbert, call. I have lost some strength with the passing of years, but I have never lost my ability to shoot straight," and he just showed him the butt of a pistol in the pocket of his coat. Crosby patted him on the shoulder and went to his persistent and uninvited guest, wondering whether Monmouth were really taken, whether this might not be he. Men still surrounded Lenfield. It was whispered amongst them that, although Monmouth was a prisoner, there was another important traitor yet to capture. They had been told so by Lord Rosmore, under whose command they were. Now they were ordered to draw in closer, and to take anyone who attempted to escape. "Capture him if possible, but, if not, shoot him down," was Rosmore's command. Then, with a dozen men, he rode across the stretch of park land to the front entrance of the Manor. He made no attempt to surround it in such a manner that those within might take alarm. His men were in the woods, escape was impossible. There was some little delay in answering his summons, and then a servant came to the door. "Is your master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, within?" "I think he is asleep, sir; but will you be pleased to enter?" The girl looked innocent enough, but Lord Rosmore was too well versed in artifice not to be cautious. "My horse is restive, as you see. Will you request your master to come out and speak with me for a moment?" The girl curtsied and departed with her message, leaving the door open. "He suspects nothing," Rosmore whispered to a man beside him. "I am not so certain," was the answer, "since the door is left so invitingly open. It would be natural to enter, and an ambush might await us within. That girl was over simple to be natural, it seemed to me." "Keep watch upon the windows above, some of you," said Rosmore in a low tone. "If this is a well-baited trap we are not such fools as to walk into it." The girl reappeared and came across the hall.