“Nothing to speak of. Tell me, who do you think led the soldiers into the court?”
“Alfred?”
“Yes, Alfred.”
“The scoundrel!”
Mr. Dartmoor spoke of a young Englishman to whom they had given employment about the place. He had deserted from an English man-of-war, and, believing his story to be true, that harsh treatment had caused him to run away from the ship, the iron merchant had found work for him. But he soon learned that the young man was addicted to the use of strong liquors, and after repeated warnings he was compelled to discharge him. The notification that he was no longer needed had brought bitter words from the former sailor boy, who had denounced Mr. Dartmoor and had threatened to “get even.”
“What did he try to do, father?” asked Harvey.
“Try to do! He has done it. He and his band have taken all the horses!”
“The horses?”
“Yes, every one that was in the stables. Yours and Louis’s, mine, and two that belonged to Mr. Dartnell. I heard the noise and ran down the stairs. There were fully twenty of them, and I could do nothing, so called Captain Saunders and the señor, but they got away.”
While this conversation was taking place they had walked from the centre of the court to the stairs, which they soon commenced to mount. At the top they were met by Mrs. Dartmoor, who asked:—