It was quite in the gray of the morning when the porter's bell rang, and old Lockwood, waking up, let in one of my lord's servants, who had gone with him in the morning, and who returned with a melancholy story. The officer who rode up to my lord had, it appeared, said to him, that it was his duty to inform his lordship that he was not under arrest, but under surveillance, and to request him not to ride abroad that day. My lord replied that riding was good for his health, that if the Captain chose to accompany him he was welcome; and it was then that he made a bow, and they cantered away together. When he came on to Wansey Down, my lord all of a sudden pulled up, and the party came to a halt at the cross-way. “Sir,” says he to the officer, “we are four to two; will you be so kind as to take that road, and leave me go mine?” “Your road is mine, my lord,” says the officer. “Then--” says my lord; but he had no time to say more, for the officer, drawing a pistol, snapped it at his lordship; as at the same moment Father Holt, drawing a pistol, shot the officer through the head. It was done, and the man dead in an instant of time. The orderly, gazing at the officer, looked seared for a moment, and galloped away for his life. “Fire! fire!” cries out Father Holt, sending another shot after the trooper, but the two servants were too much surprised to use their pieces, and my lord calling to them to hold their hands, the fellow got away. “Mr. Holt, qui pensait a tout,” says Blaise, “gets off his horse, examines the pockets of the dead officer for papers, gives his money to us two, and says, 'The wine is drawn, M. le Marquis,'--why did he say Marquis to M. le Vicomte?--'we must drink it.' “The poor gentleman's horse was a better one than that I rode,” Blaise continues; “Mr. Holt bids me get on him, and so I gave a cut to Whitefoot, and she trotted home. We rode on towards Newbury; we heard firing towards midday: at two o'clock a horseman comes up to us as we were giving our cattle water at an inn--and says, 'All is done! The Ecossais declared an hour too soon--General Ginckel was down upon them.' The whole thing was at an end. “'And we've shot an officer on duty, and let his orderly escape,' says my lord. “'Blaise,' says Mr. Holt, writing two lines on his table-book, one for my lady and one for you, Master Harry; 'you must go back to Castlewood, and deliver these,' and behold me.” And he gave Harry the two papers. He read that to himself, which only said, “Burn the papers in the cupboard, burn this. You know nothing about anything.” Harry read this, ran up stairs to his mistress's apartment, where her gentlewoman slept near to the door, made her bring a light and wake my lady, into whose hands he gave the paper. She was a wonderful object to look at in her night attire, nor had Harry ever seen the like.