"Danforth? He spoke of him—and of your father, and of a warning?" repeated Lord Geoffry, with clenched fist and a knit forehead. "Oh, Andrew, what may those words mean? Why, why could you not gather more? More must be gained in some way. There has been, is, fresh danger brewing, I fear, and before we are out of the shadow of this. But stay here no longer. Hasten, tell your father what has chanced, that he, too, may ponder over it. Return when you may—be cautious—but especially come to me if you discover anything, ay, anything more about this mysterious prisoner or from him." The knight hesitated an instant, and then added:
"I will confess to you, dear lad, that for weeks before I came to Windlestrae I lived in daily hope of hearing certain special intelligence that very possibly can be trusted only to me. Moreover, it will come to me from—I know not whom! It concerns a friend—the nearest friend I have, and one pursued and miserable as I am. I wait for it, I hope for it, without the least knowledge of who shall bring it me. Alas, look not so surprised and perplexed! I cannot tell thee more, my boy. But so it is—and in every stranger I may pass by my messenger unless I am ever-watchful. On such a hard riddle hangs perhaps all my future. Leave me; while you are gone I must plan how it may be possible for me, in spite of Jermain or Tracey or Saville, to speak with this man myself."
These last declarations left Andrew aghast; but he quitted the attic and sped down-stairs, just as Mistress Annan and a maid-servant were seeking the gable-room with a mattress, a pitcher of water, and some other articles. He once more attempted the outer kitchen; but it was hopeless, Neil informing him that the door had again been denied all comers by the two on its inside. Andrew listened, and heard enough to convince him that Tracey and Saville, well supplied with liquor at their own angry demands, were setting in for private saturnalia of their own; a course, which, however loathed by the temperate Manor House family, the Master saw might be of great help, if the prisoner they guarded was really to be addressed.
The little dining-parlor was still bright with a dozen of Mistress Annan's best candles; and the liquors that Boyd dared not withhold, when fresh supplies were called for, seemed in active circulation.
"Come in, Andrew," called Jermain, as Andrew slipped back to a seat, "you are too young to be gay, but you can sit down and let your bonny face smile on us. May you never grow up as wild a fellow as I! Here's to your health, Boyd, prince of solemn-faced Highland hosts! Now, gentlemen, I'm going to sing you all a capital song." Which he proceeded to do.
Andrew, during it, whispered over his father's shoulder. Gilbert's heart sank like lead again. Yes, there must be a communication with the prisoner, whoever he really was, as soon as possible. A prospect of Danforth! That meant fresh peril. Had there not been enough? He sat and affected to listen to Jermain's frivolous chat until he could remain no longer. He rose as if to get something.
"No, friend Boyd, no more budging," protested Jermain, "you can sit as long as we, and sit you must. You have been an uneasy host all the evening, ever since the secret-chamber affair was broached, and now you shall make amends. Fill up your glass."
Boyd dared not persist. Twice after this did he attempt to get away, that he might try to hold a conversation with the captive in the outer apartment, or compare his alarmed surmises with Lord Geoffry. But the captain seemed good-humoredly wary. By this time, however, the hilarity of the two other soldiers had passed into, first, a disputatious, then a maudlin, mood. The familiarity between Roxley and the captain was decidedly more apparent, Jermain laughing immoderately at all his stories, and applying himself quite as liberally to the cup, though with what seemed a stronger head for it. Andrew disappeared a little earlier, which the lateness of the hour entirely warranted the boy's doing.
"I must speak with my son before he sleeps," Gilbert said abruptly. He left the table, this time without exciting comment.
When he reached the kitchen he was not a little disturbed to find Mistress Annan, the two maid-servants, Angus and Neil, and two others of the household, all sitting in partial darkness and silence, evidently each too apprehensive of further trouble to be willing to go to sleep. "Nay, to your beds, all of you!" he ordered quickly. "I hope that the night will pass without new disquiet. You can do no good by watchfulness here—rather harm. Stay! Neil and Angus, you two had best sit awhile until I speak with you again. The rest of you go cautiously hence at once."