"It seems certain that he has come in this direction, Golding."
"Then stay you at home, Master Gilbert," pleaded the old man.
"Nonsense. The presence of a few militia-men in the neighbourhood is no cause for fear. Tell them to let me have my horse at dawn."
Crosby did not sleep that night. Monmouth might come under cover of the darkness, and he waited and listened through the long hours. At break of day he was in the saddle again, but did not ride far afield. He hardly left his own land, and it was evident that Lenfield was surrounded. In the afternoon he returned home, unconscious that Monmouth had been taken during the morning, found in a ditch clad in a shepherd's dress, and was already on his way to Ringwood.
"Monmouth is taken," whispered Golding as Crosby dismounted.
"How do you know that? Who told you?"
"A man who came two hours ago. He is waiting."
"Is he a friend, do you think, Golding?"
"I do not know," Golding answered. "He said he would wait until you came, and then demanded to be taken to the stables, where he tended his own horse. A masterful man, Master Gilbert, but whether a friend or an enemy who can tell?"
"We will soon see," said Crosby; and as he turned to go to this stranger
Golding laid a hand on his arm.