With much perseverance and labour he succeeded at last in breaking it open.
It contained nothing but a packet of musty, dusty papers.
“What can this mean?” thought Ned.
He eagerly seized the bundle, and on the outside read,
“Family papers; not to be opened until the death of Sir Richard Warbeck. They then belong to the heirs of the celebrated Sir Edward Lancaster, who was banished from the kingdom by Cromwell. The enclosed is a short sketch of his rise and fall in the state, and of the origin of the Skeleton Band; how, and when, and where it was formed. Some of the names mentioned are not the right ones. The key to the proper names can be found elsewhere on the death of Sir Richard Warbeck.”
“Strange!” thought Ned; “why, what mystery is here? Some grand family secret. It may be useful for Charley and myself to know this.
“Sir Edward Lancaster,” sighed Ned; “I have heard of him. But surely that is not my name? I wonder if any mystery hung over my father’s early career, like my own?”
In great mental excitement he locked and barred the old library doors, tore open the packet, and read, with a trembling hand,—
A State Secret. The King’s Bastard.
“The evening sun was flashing in the west, shedding streams of many-coloured glory on the forests and plains surrounding one of England’s fairest villages, and the red brick walls and tower of a quadrangularly built military college threw a deep black shade on the grassy sward and gigantic trees, through which grand walks and carriage drives intersected and united at the heavy iron gates.