"Sir, I thank you sincerely," said Riccabocca, with emotion; "but am I not safe here?"
"I doubt it. Many people have visited the squire in the shooting season, who will have heard of you,—perhaps seen you, and who are likely to meet the count in London. And Frank Hazeldean, too, who knows the count's sister—"
"True, true" interrupted Riccabocca. "I see, I see. I will consider, I will reflect. Meanwhile you are going to Hazel dean. Do not say a word to the squire. He knows not the secret you have discovered."
With those words Riccabocca turned slightly away, and Randal took the hint to depart.
"At all times command and rely on me," said the young traitor, and he regained the pale to which he had fastened his horse.
As he remounted, he cast his eyes towards the place where he had left Riccabocca. The Italian was still standing there. Presently the form of Jackeymo was seen emerging from the shrubs. Riccabocca turned hastily round, recognized his servant, uttered an exclamation loud enough to reach Randal's ear, and then, catching Jackeymo by the arm, disappeared with him amidst the deep recesses of the garden.
"It will be indeed in my favour," thought Randal, as he rode on, "if I can get them into the neighbourhood of London,—all occasion there to woo, and if expedient, to win, the heiress."
CHAPTER VIII.
"Br the Lord, Harry!" cried the squire, as he stood with his wife in the park, on a visit of inspection to some first-rate Southdowns just added to his stock,—"by the Lord, if that is not Randal Leslie trying to get into the park at the back gate! Hollo, Randal! you must come round by the lodge, my boy," said he. "You see this gate is locked to keep out trespassers."
"A pity," said Randal. "I like short cuts, and you have shut up a very short one."