“I suppose Trevor has told you the pater isn’t at home?”
“He has, Prince; but I knew it before.”
“Indeed! How learnt you? When?”
“Just after your Highness rode away from us. One of Powell’s people, a sort of shepherd, or cowboy, chanced to be coming into the park; and with a little cross-questioning I got out of him, both the fact of his master’s absence, and the whereabouts.”
“He’s at Gloucester.”
“Yes, Prince. But the affair of Monmouth will draw him home, soon as he receives news of it. He should have had that long ago; so may be expected here at any moment.”
“Just so. But if he get word of our being here before him, he may turn back and give us the go-by. So I want half a dozen files detached, and sent off along the Gloucester road, under a trusty officer, in all haste. If they meet him, he’s to be made prisoner at once.”
“It’s already done, your Highness.”
“What! Has Powell been taken?”
“No, Prince; pardon me. I meant the detachment has been sent to intercept him. I took the liberty of doing that without your orders. There was not time to communicate with your Highness, unless at the risk of being too late.”