"This is passing curious," said the Sheriff; "we had better at once consult the Earl of Wentworth, he is the fittest person."
Much surprised was the Sheriff when he heard the young lady was the betrothed wife of the Earl.
"It grows more and more mysterious; let us at once go to the Towers," he said; "depend upon it this is no proper arrest; the warrant should have had my signature. Either she has been taken to London by special order of the king, or else—but I will not say my suspicion. Let us see Lord Wentworth."
The Earl was standing on the steps, bidding good evening to Lord Dalkeith, who had dropped in to dinner when the carriage containing our friends drew up.
"Why, what is all this?" said his lordship, as the three gentlemen got out, followed by Johnny and Maude, "what in the name of all that's holy has happened?"
The appearance of the Sheriff, of whom the Earl was an intimate friend,—Mr. Ravensworth, with his eyes still swollen with grief,—and Mr. Lennox, were well calculated to induce this question.
"My Lord," said Sheriff Murray, "this is no affair for the ears of all present; come to your study and we will tell you the strange news."
"You alarm me, Sheriff; this way, come along; what has happened?—nothing to Ellen Ravensworth, I hope?"
"Indeed your surmise is too true," said the Sheriff; he then told the whole story. Lord Dalkeith naturally delayed his departure, and with the Captain and Marquis entered the Earl's study and heard all.
To paint Lord Wentworth's fury and grief would be as impossible as it would be useless. "'Sdeath and hell!" he exclaimed, his face livid with ire, "and who has dared touch a hair of her head?"