"To be sure!" nodded the Major, fingering the tarnished buttons of his old campaigning coat. "And she locked him in—'twas like her! As for the soldiers, Tom, having traced him so far, they will be here next 'tis sure and her house will be searched first, of course."
"Gad sir!" exclaimed the Viscount, striding to and fro in sudden perturbation. "You take it devilish calm and serene! If they search there they'll find him beyond doubt——"
"Not so, Tom, I'll see to that."
"You sir—how?"
"He shall come here."
"Here nunky—here in this house—with Colonel Cleeve your guest?"
"Precisely, Tom—I must hide him under old George's honest nose. 'Tis irregular, as 'twere—aye, 'tis vastly irregular, and yet——" Here there rose a distant roaring, a hoarse and intermittent clamour.
"Gad love us!" exclaimed the Viscount, starting, "what's here?"
"'Tis only George roaring for thee, Tom."
"And the horses are at the door, my lud!" added the Sergeant, glancing from the window.