"Your uncle takes too melancholy a view of a circumstance which was beyond his control," said Rosmore.
"Beyond it—yes, but can I prove that it was so?" asked Sir John.
"There are many ways," said Rosmore. "Sir John, Mistress Barbara, would have you sent for, although I begged him not to disturb you. I had mentioned your name—I could hardly help doing so—but with no intention of dragging you into a matter with which you have really nothing to do."
"Tell her, Rosmore," said Sir John. "She may have more concern in it than you imagine."
"Rebellion brings many things in its train, Mistress Barbara—the hunting and punishment of those who rebel, for instance; unfortunately, some of this hunting has fallen to my lot," said Rosmore, and he had the air of gently concealing some of the horrors he had witnessed from his fair listener. "I was commanded to arrest one Gilbert Crosby, of Lenfield, and it was in speaking of him that I mentioned your name. You will remember that we spoke of him on one occasion."
"I remember. It was you who told me his name," said Barbara; and, whatever fears were in her mind, she spoke with absolute indifference.
"As I told you then, he is a man of most contemptible character," Rosmore went on, "a cowardly enemy and a dangerous friend. And he is something more. We surrounded his house at Lenfield; we saw him enter, and then I rode to the door, demanding to see him. The servant went to call him, and returned to say she could not find him. A few moments later he appeared from the direction of the stables, mounted on the most splendid animal I have ever seen. Cantering across the open park, he eluded our pursuit by putting his horse at a fence that I should have sworn was impossible to take had I not seen that animal take it. It was a marvellous leap, and I grant you this man is no mean horseman; but, Mistress Barbara, his outward appearance was changed. For the time being he was no longer Gilbert Crosby, the rebel, but Galloping Hermit, the highwayman, and wore a brown mask."
"I would I had seen the leap," said Barbara impulsively as a child might say it; and both men, who knew her love for horses, heard nothing but genuine excitement in her remark. It concealed her real thoughts. If this story were true, Gilbert Crosby had deceived her.
"We followed him, but not over the fence," said Rosmore, "and a long, stern chase began. We had no horse amongst us to match the highwayman's. He could have left us behind sooner than he did, but he was playing a cunning game. I divided my men, and whilst some followed him, I and two stout fellows turned aside with the object of cutting him off when he doubled on his tracks, as I was convinced he would do."
"You take a great while coming to the point," grumbled Sir John.