“Sir,” she exclaimed, “Amos says my father sent you hither.”
“Yes, madam,” he said, bowing low and handing her the Major’s letter. “You will recognise his handwriting, and pray read this quickly, for if we are to save you from Colonel Norton’s vile plot we must lose no time.”
“Read, child,” said Cousin Malvina, “and let us know at once what your father bids you do.”
Gabriel took the candle from the girl’s trembling hand, and held it for her while she read aloud the Major’s brief note.
“Dear Daughter,—This letter is borne to you by Lieutenant Harford, who is accompanied by his friend, Captain Heyworth. I am unable to fetch you myself, but you must ride with them without a minute’s delay to Gloucester, where Alderman Pury will shelter you. We have learnt of a probable attack to be made by the Prince’s troops on the Manor; do not let the servants attempt a defence, it will be useless. A worse danger threatens you yourself from that vile profligate, Squire Norton. I had thought him safely disposed of during the war, but since he is in your neighbourhood, I dare not leave you at the Manor. Come at once to Gloucester, or I shall not have a moment’s peace of mind. I shall be gone to the attack of Tewkesbury when you arrive, but Lieutenant Harford will place you safely under Alderman Pury’s care. May God direct you.—Your loving father,
“Christopher Locke.
“Written at Gloucester, this evening, April 11, 1643.”
“Is there a third staircase in the house?” asked Gabriel, turning to Amos.
“Ay, sir, there be the kitchen stairs, but they be plaguy steep and apt to creak.”
“They are further from the hall,” said little Mistress Nell, “and we can slip out of the back door and through the shrubbery to the gate ere Squire Norton thinks us ready. Haste, haste, Cousin Malvina, here is your Lincoln green cloak and hood, do not let us lose a moment.”