"Oh!" said he, in a cordial tone, "how do you do, Wallace? Pray come in, my father will have infinite pleasure in making your acquaintance. Father, here is an old comrade of mine."
"Your servant, Mr. Passmore," said Captain Wallace, bowing, with his hat in his hand; "yours, ladies. I am very sorry for the ill errand I come on. There is a Jacobite hiding in this neighborhood, a Colonel in the rebel army, and a man of rank and influence—one Sir Edward Ingram. I am in charge to search all the houses hereabouts, and I am sure you will not take it ill of me if I ask leave not to omit yours, though the loyalty of Mr. Passmore of Ashcliffe must ever be above suspicion."
"Jacobites be hanged!" burst from the Squire. "Sir, you do me great honor. No Jacobites in my house—at least not if I know it. Pray search every corner, and cut all the cushions open if you like!"
"Thank you, Mr. Passmore. Only what I expected from a gentleman of your high character. I may begin at once?"
"By all means!"
Captain Wallace called in one of his men—leaving the others to guard the house outside—and after an examination of the parlor, they proceeded up-stairs, Harry loyally volunteering to light them. In about an hour they returned to the parlor.
"Mr. Passmore," said Captain Wallace, "'tis my duty to question every person in the house, to make sure that this rebel has not been seen nor heard of. You do not object? A form, you know—in such a case as this, a mere form."
"Question away," said the Squire; "I have neither seen nor heard of him, and don't want to do either. Now for the ladies."
Madam Passmore answered the question with a quiet negative.
"It can scarcely be necessary to trouble the young ladies," gallantly remarked the Captain. "But if they please to say just a word"—