Under the supposition that Holtspur was by that time advanced some distance towards Beaconsfield, he hurried on to overtake him.
The moon was shining full upon the track; and in the dust, which the rain had recently converted into mud, the ex-footpad did not fail to perceive a number of footprints. In the exercise of his peculiar calling, he had been accustomed to note such signs, and had acquired a skill in their interpretation equal to that of a backwoods hunter.
Instantly he stopped, and commenced scrutinising the sign.
He was upon the spot where the capture had been accomplished. The footmarks of six or seven men—who had been springing violently from side to side—had left long slides and scratches in the damp dust. The tracks of the troopers were easily distinguished; and in their midst the more elegant imprint of a cavalier’s boot.
Garth needed no further evidence of the misfortune that had befallen. Beyond doubt his master had been once more made prisoner; and, cursing himself for being the cause, he mechanically traced the backward tracks—his despondent air proclaiming that he had but little hope of being able to effect a rescue.
Returning upon the traces of the cuirassier guards, he re-entered the park, and advanced towards the mansion—which the darkness enabled him to do with safety. There he had discovered Bet Dancey—a sorrowing penitent—prostrate upon the ground—where, in her distraction, she had thrown herself.
From the girl he had obtained confirmation of the recapture—though not the true cause either of that, or her own grief.
Her statement was simple. The guards had followed Master Holtspur; they had overtaken, overpowered, and brought him back; he was once more locked up within the store-room.
The hope, of again delivering him out of the hands of his enemies, might have appeared too slender to be entertained by any one; and for a time it did so—even to the unflinching spirit of his old retainer.
But the ex-footpad, when contemplating the chances of getting out of a prison, was not the man to remain the slave of despair—at least for any great length of time; and no sooner had he satisfied himself, that his master was once more encaged, than he set his wits freshly to work, to contrive some new scheme for his deliverance.