“A courier from the king?” said Scarthe, bowing courteously as the cavalier came forward.
“A despatch from his Majesty,” returned the messenger, with an official salute, at the same time holding out the document. “It is the copy of one sent three days ago, and lost upon the road. Captain Scarthe, I believe, is already acquainted with the circumstance.”
A slight twinkling in the steel-grey eye of the speaker, while making the concluding remark, told that he had heard of the adventure, and was not insensible to its ludicrous nature.
“Oh, yes!” assented Scarthe. “I hope the bearer of the original has not come to grief through his misadventure.”
“Dismissed the service,” was the formal rejoinder.
“Ah! I am sorry for that. The fright he had was I should think punishment enough; to say nothing of the loss of his horse, purse, watch, and love locket. Ha! ha! ha!”
The hearty laugh in which the captain indulged, chorused by Stubbs, sanctioned only by a grim smile on the part of grey eye, told that the sympathy of the latter for the disgraced courtier was not very profound.
“Cornet Stubbs,” said Scarthe, turning to his subaltern, and waving his hand towards the messenger, “see that this gentleman does not die of hunger and thirst. Excuse me, sir, while I peruse the king’s despatch. Perhaps it requires an answer.”
The comet, inviting the courier to follow him, passed out of the room; while Scarthe, stepping into the embayment of the window, broke open the royal seal, and read:
“His Majestie the King to Captain Scarthe, commanding ye Cuirassiers in the County of Bucks.