Beachcombe dashed it from his hand. "That is not mine!" he shouted; "that is the one that fellow wore when he came in. He has left it behind and taken mine; he has used it as a disguise, and those idiots have been taken in by it—" He flung out of the room, and the next minute was heard furiously cursing and berating the crestfallen constables, who, taking him for their long-awaited prey, sprang upon him as soon as he appeared, and but for the speedy interference of Mr. Perry, would have handled him roughly. The men fell back in confusion as the situation dawned upon them. This the real lord? Then who was the haughty and self-important personage who had ridden away from them so coolly after issuing orders with such an air of authority? "You shall sweat for this!" cried Beachcombe. "Where is my horse?" No one seemed able to answer this question. The men glanced from one to another, and the mysterious crowd that springs up from the roadside when there is any excitement, began to collect. Some one suggested that a gentleman in a black hat and feather had been seen riding out of the Square, on a fine chestnut horse, and a murmur from the crowd confirmed the statement. By this time, Lord Beachcombe had become speechless with rage. He signed to a passing chair, and getting in bareheaded, pulled the curtains close, and departed without a valedictory greeting. After a visit to Bow Street which gave promise of a warm quarter of an hour to the constables on their return, Beachcombe hurried to his house, overlooking St. James’ Park, to await Samuel’s visit, and concoct plans by which Robin should not only be arrested, but brought to an ignominious and lingering death. Torture was supposed to have been abolished in those days, but treason was still punishable by drawing and quartering, and while the country was still astir with Jacobite plots, the charge of treason might easily be fastened on any man who could not readily account for his comings and goings. The day passed slowly, for Lord Beachcombe, shut up in his study, gave orders that no visitor should be admitted except the lawyer’s clerk. Once possessor of the proofs—if proofs they were—of the shadow upon his birth, he could set his heel without fear upon the throat of this miscreant who claimed to be his brother. His brother—! his _elder_ brother—! The shrill cry of the baby-heir smote upon his ear, and goaded him to such a madness of impotent fury that if Samuel could have seen him then and known the cause of the furrow on his brow and the blood upon his bitten lip, he might have made his own terms and become rich for life. In the afternoon, a groom came to say that his lordship’s horse had been brought to the stable by a ragged boy, who had made off before he could be questioned. "What condition was he in? Had he been ridden fast or far?" Lord Beachcombe inquired eagerly. "Hadn’t turned a hair, my Lord," was the reply; "might ’a’ been for a canter round the Park."