“What do you say to this, sir?” he remarked to the steward.
“Simply that I obeyed my master's orders,” he rejoined.
“Your master is a miserable niggard,” said the colonel, signing to his followers to sit down, and taking the chair at the head of the table.
They were waited on by a couple of menservants, who had been discovered in the butler's pantry, and were supplied with abundance of claret.
At the conclusion of the repast King James's health was drunk by the whole party with loud cheers. Not only was the steward compelled to join in the toast, but to drink “Success to the insurgent army.”
When the moment of departure arrived, and the steward thought he was about to get rid of his unwelcome visitors, Colonel Oxburgh said to him:
“We shan't part company at present, Mr. Bancroft. I shall be compelled to take you with me to Lancaster.”
“As a prisoner, colonel?”
“As a prisoner, sir!”
“But what have I done? What crime have I committed?”