"Quite impossible!" cried Lady Barbara, who only caught the last words. "His home will be surrounded by soldiers, and he will be lodged in the Tower, when they catch him."
"Do they send soldiers to catch a highwayman?" inquired Peggie.
"And why the Tower?" objected Lady Drumloch. "Methought that was reserved for gentlemen; 'tis too much honor for robbers and footpads. Will they also behead this person; like a gentleman?"
"'Tis likely," cried Barbara. "I had so much to tell you, that I forgot that this Robin is not a mere ordinary highwayman; he is a Jacobite plotter, no less, and is known to carry letters and messages from rebels in the South to those in the North and back again—doing, I presume, a little highway robbery on the way, for the good of the cause. Mayhap he appropriated the queen's necklace as a contribution to the treasury of the 'King in Exile.'"
"Barbara!" exclaimed Prue and Peggie together, in a panic.
"My dear Lady Barbara," put in the thin, incisive voice of Lady Drumloch, "the 'King in Exile' is the queen's brother and probably—may the day be distant—will succeed her. I can not permit such insinuations to be made in my presence, against the cause for which my husband and my son laid down their lives."
"Pray pardon me, dearest Lady Drumloch," cried Lady Barbara, really shocked at her own want of tact. "I meant no harm—my tongue runs away with me—and to be sure, I have no greater fancy for a Dutchman on the throne than any other loyal Englishwoman. Yet 'tis true that Robin Freemantle is only the nom de guerre of one of the most turbulent rebels against the queen's government—"
"If by that you mean the Whigs, you should rather say against the Duchess of Marlborough's government," retorted Lady Drumloch crisply.
"And what is the real name of this—rebel?" inquired Prue.
"Why, he calls himself De Cliffe, and if he really is an offshoot of the family, that would explain why Beachcombe obtained a pardon for him," said Lady Barbara.