"I do not," I replied. "I acted as many others are acting. Perchance some of the many sons of your late father behave little differently even to-day. But is there aught that smacks of treason in this?"
"No; but even while living this life, you often let hints drop concerning the danger of our gracious King, and the coming of the young Pretender."
"But never to favour his coming," I replied.
"This taken by itself would have but little meaning," he went on; "but subsequent events cause your words to have grave import."
"What subsequent events, my lord?" I asked hotly.
"About fourteen days ago you left your home, and rode away alone. Will you tell me the object of your journey?"
I was silent, for in truth I cared not to tell this man about the flight of the maid Nancy.
"You are silent. If your journey was honourable, what need is there for seeking to hide it?"
"My lord," I said, "most of us have our secrets. They may be innocent enough, but still we do not care to have them made public property."