On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and barely saved myself from crying out.
"What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"
The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with angry eyes.
"Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay, Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"
But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.
On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith, bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout, nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been imprisoned by the Mayor.
Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the grey-haired Anabaptist minister.
"There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of Master Gregory Alford!"
I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager, others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every lip, and each new-comer added to the din.
Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly, steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty, startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.