"That is, I am afraid, impossible," replied the peer; "for we have found out that he and his fellows have a design upon the deer in Dimden Park this very night, and a large party of keepers have been assembled to arrest them, so that between twelve and one they will all be prisoners. Otherwise it might have been better as you say."
"But there is time before that," said Sir Roger, looking at his watch, which--as the dinner hours of that day were very, very different from those of the present time--only pointed at seven even after this long conversation with the peer,--"there is time before that, my lord: how far is it to Dimden?"
"Fourteen miles at least," replied the peer.
"Lend me a strong horse, and I will be over by half-past eight," answered Sir Roger. "If I cannot get a sight of him by any other means, I will join the keepers privately, and as soon as ever the business is over, come back here; so that I may point out the fellow at once, if there should be twenty of them. What is his name, my lord? do you know?"
"Pharold, he is called," answered the peer, thoughtfully. "Your plan is good, but I am afraid it is too late. Let us take care that by trying to do too much we do not spoil all."
"Oh, no fear, no fear, my lord," replied Sir Roger, who was not without hopes of getting a private conversation with the gipsy before his arrest, and who had an object of his own in wishing to do so; for although rogues often trust each other in a manner which--with the knowledge of each other's character that they must possess--is little less than a miracle, no man covenants with another whom he knows to be a villain without seeking some check upon him; and Sir Roger was not a little desirous of having the peer more fully in his power, as some security for the fulfilment of his promises. "No fear, no fear, my lord; and remember, it would never do if I were to point out the wrong man by any chance."
This argument was conclusive with Lord Dewry. The bell was rung, a swift horse was ordered to be saddled immediately, Sir Roger equipped himself for riding, received minute directions as to the way to Dimden, and the peer and his guest were standing before the fireplace, waiting for the horse, each occupied with his own thoughts, and each rejoicing at the event of a meeting which had seemed at first so inauspicious--Sir Roger Millington indulging in dreams of future luxury and ease, and the baron triumphing in the hope that the means he had employed, the dark and dreadful scheme which he was prepared to execute, would bid defiance to accusation, and sweep from his path for ever the man that he most feared on earth--when the sound of more horses' feet than one was heard without, the bell was rung violently, and the servant, entering, announced that a gentleman on horseback was at the door, urging important business with his lordship.
"Did he give his name?" demanded Lord Dewry.
"Yes, my lord," replied the man: "he bade me say that it was Colonel Manners!"
"Ho, ho!" said the peer, his lip curling with a haughty smile: "take him into the saloon. This is a business of no importance, Sir Roger; do not let it detain you. Fare you well, my good friend, and may success attend you!"