So far from having the effect of allaying his excitement they but increased it, and he cried out to the sergeant, as he had to the trumpeter,—
“Quick to the men’s quarters, Wilde, and help getting all ready for the route! Hubert’s there by this time, and will have sounded the ‘Assembly.’ Read that, Trevor! There’s something that concerns you,” and he handed the letter to his troop captain.
The sergeant hurried away, leaving Win to be further questioned by the colonel. And while this was going on the young officer perused the epistle, to be affected by it in a similar fashion. It ran thus:—
“Ill tidings, Richard. Prince Rupert here, with his escort—about two hundred. Has just arrived, and intends staying the night; indeed, till father return home, he says. I hope father will not come home, unless you come with him. I’m sure they mean him harm. That horrid man, Lunsford, is in the Prince’s suit; Reginald Trevor too. Winny will tell you more; I fear to lose time in writing. Dear Richard! come if you can.”
So the body of the epistle, with below a postscript, in a different handwriting, well-known to Eustace Trevor:—“Dearest Eustace! we are in danger, I do believe.” The words were significant; and no form of appeal for rescue could have been more pressing. Nor was such needed; neither any urging of haste upon the men thus admonished.
Never was squadron of cavalry sooner in the saddle, after getting orders, than was “Walwyn’s Horse” on that night. In less than twenty minutes later, they went at a gallop through the north-western gate of Gloucester, opened to give them exit; then on along the flooded causeway, riding rowells deep, plunging and flinging the spray-drops high in air, till every man was dripping wet, from the plume in his hat to the spurs upon his heels.