“Disarm the inveterate and malignant rebel,” cried Oliver. “Art thou not ashamed, sir, to detain me before the door of a house which you had no force to defend? Wearest thou so white a beard, and knowest thou not, that to refuse surrendering an indefensible post, by the martial law, deserves hanging?”
“My beard and I,” said Sir Henry, “have settled that matter between us, and agree right cordially. It is better to run the risk of being hanged, like honest men, than to give up our trust like cowards and traitors.”
“Ha! say’st thou?” said Cromwell; “thou hast powerful motives, I doubt not, for running thy head into a noose. But I will speak with thee by and by.—Ho! Pearson, Gilbert Pearson, take this scroll—Take the elder woman with thee—Let her guide you to the various places therein mentioned—Search every room therein set down, and arrest, or slay upon the slightest resistance, whomsoever you find there. Then note those places marked as commanding points for cutting off intercourse through the mansion—the landing-places of the great staircase, the great gallery, and so forth. Use the woman civilly. The plan annexed to the scroll will point out the posts, even if she prove stupid or refractory. Meanwhile, the corporal, with a party, will bring the old man and the girl there to some apartment—the parlour, I think, called Victor Lee’s, will do as well as another.—We will then be out of this stifling smell of gunpowder.”
So saying, and without requiring any farther assistance or guidance, he walked towards the apartment he had named. Sir Henry had his own feelings, when he saw the unhesitating decision with which the General led the way, and which seemed to intimate a more complete acquaintance with the various localities of Woodstock than was consistent with his own present design, to engage the Commonwealth party in a fruitless search through the intricacies of the Lodge.
“I will now ask thee a few questions, old man,” said the General, when they had arrived in the room; “and I warn thee, that hope of pardon for thy many and persevering efforts against the Commonwealth, can be no otherwise merited than by the most direct answers to the questions I am about to ask.”
Sir Henry bowed. He would have spoken, but he felt his temper rising high, and became afraid it might be exhausted before the part he had settled to play, in order to afford the King time for his escape, should be brought to an end.
“What household have you had here, Sir Henry Lee, within these few days—what guests—what visitors? We know that your means of house-keeping are not so profuse as usual, so the catalogue cannot be burdensome to your memory.”
“Far from it,” replied the knight, with unusual command of temper, “my daughter, and latterly my son, have been my guests; and I have had these females, and one Joceline Joliffe, to attend upon us.”
“I do not ask after the regular members of your household, but after those who have been within your gates, either as guests, or as malignant fugitives taking shelter.”
“There may have been more of both kinds, sir, than I, if it please your valour, am able to answer for,” replied the knight. “I remember my kinsman Everard was here one morning—Also, I bethink me, a follower of his, called Wildrake.”