CHAPTER XVIII.
Ned Hayward's missive to the younger Wittingham.
"What hour does the coach start at for London?"
"Half-past four, Sir."
"Arrives in town at twelve to-morrow, I think?"
"No, Sir; last time I went up, we got there by eleven."
"Then down again at half-past four?"
"Yes, Sir--gets to the White Hart at half-past eleven--longer coming down than going up."
"That will do very well." And Ned Hayward, who had held the above conversation with one of Sir John Slingsby's servants, hurried upstairs. His room was all in the most exact order. His fishing tackle, two fowling-pieces in their cases, shot-pouches, game-bags, powder-flasks, &c., were in array on the top of the drawers. His clothes were all in their separate places, his boots arranged under the dressing-glass, his writing-desk upon the table, flanked on either side by half-a-dozen volumes. Every thing could be found in a moment, so that if called upon suddenly to march, the baggage would require no time to pack. It was to the writing-desk he first went however; he opened it, unscrewed the top of the inkstand, took out a sheet of notepaper and a memorandum-book, and then sat down deliberately in the chair. The memorandum-book was first called into service, and in the column of accounts he put down what he had paid at the inn that morning, and then, on another page, wrote down the following list, which I will not attempt to explain,
"Catch trout. "Write to H. W. "See Ste Gim. "Make inquiries. "Provide for boy. "Pack car. bag. "Coach to London. "Sell out 12,000l. "Alter will. "Pistols. "Friend--qy. Beauchamp. "Talk to him of No. 2 and No. 8."