So saying, he took the torch which had been left burning, and turned over the body of the man he had slain before Rupert arrived on the scene.
"I do not know him," he said, looking steadily at the dead man's face.
"I know him," Rupert exclaimed in surprise. "He is a saddler of Derby--a fierce nonconformist and whig, and a preacher at conventicles. And to think of his being a highwayman!"
"An assassin is a better term," the earl said contemptuously. "I guessed from their number it was my life, and not my money, that they sought.
"Now let us look at the fellow you sent to his account."
Rupert hung back as they approached the man he had killed. In those days of rebellions, executions, and duels, human life was regarded but lightly. Still, to a lad of little over fifteen the thought that he had killed a man, even if in fair fight, was very painful.
"Ah, I thought so," the earl said. "This is a creature of a political enemy. I have seen him in his antechamber. So the order came from London, and the tools were found here. That will do. Now let us get this horse out of the traces. It is some years since I have ridden barebacked.
"No, I thank you," in answer to Rupert's offer of his own horse; "a saddle matters not one way or the other. There, now for the Chace; and I shall not be sorry to fall to on the supper which, I doubt not, the good gentleman your grandfather will have prepared."
So saying, he vaulted on his horse, and with Rupert rode quietly along the road to the Chace. The great door opened as they approached, and four lackeys with torches came out. Colonel Holliday himself came down the steps and assisted the earl to alight, and led the way into the house.
They now entered the drawing room, where Mistress Dorothy was seated. She arose and made a deep courtesy, in answer to the even deeper bow with which the earl greeted her.