one who calls himself Sir Luke Rookwood,” answered Turpin, with a meaning smile.
“By him!” ejaculated Ranulph. “Where are they now?”
“I have already answered that question,” said Dick. “I repeat, I know not.”
“You are my prisoner,” cried the major, seizing Turpin’s bridle.
“I have Sir Ranulph’s word for my safety,” rejoined Turpin. “Let go my rein.”
“How is this?” asked Major Mowbray, incredulously.
“Ask me not. Release him,” replied Ranulph.
“Ranulph,” said the major, “you ask an impossibility. My honor — my duty — is implicated in this man’s capture.”
“The honor of all of us is involved in his deliverance,” returned Ranulph, in a whisper. “Let him go. I will explain all hereafter. Let us search for them — for Eleanor. Surely, after this, you will help us to find them,” added he, addressing Turpin.
“I wish, with all my soul, I could do so,” replied the highwayman.
“I see’d the ladies cross the brook, and enter these old ruins,” interposed the postboy, who had now joined the party. “I see’d ’em from where I stood on the hill-side; and as I kept a pretty sharp look-out, and have a tolerably bright eye of my own, I don’t think as how they ever comed out again.”
“Some one is hidden within yon fissure in the wall,” exclaimed Ranulph; “I see a figure move.”
And he flung himself from his horse, rushing towards the mouth of the cell. Imitating his example, Major Mowbray followed his friend, sword in hand.
“The game begins now in right earnest,” said Dick to himself; “the old fox will be soon unearthed. I must look to my snappers.” And he thrust his hand quietly into his pocket in search of a pistol.
Just as Ranulph and the major reached the recess they were startled by the sudden apparition of the ill-fated attorney.
“Mr. Coates!” exclaimed Ranulph, in surprise. “What do you here, sir?”
“I— I— that is — Sir Ranulph — you must excuse me, sir — particular business — can’t say,” returned the trembling attorney; for at this instant his eye caught that of Turpin, and the ominous reflexion of a polished-steel barrel, held carelessly towards him. He was aware, also, that on the other hand he was, in like manner, the mark of Rust and Wilder; those polite gentlemen having threatened him with a brace of slugs in his brain if he dared to betray their hiding-place. “It is necessary that I should be guarded in my answers,” murmured he.
“Is there any one within that place besides yourself?” said the major, making a movement thither.
“No, sir, nobody at all,” answered Coates, hastily, fancying at the same time that he heard the click of the pistol that was to be his death-warrant.
“How came you here, sir?” demanded Ranulph.
“Do you mean in this identical spot?” replied Coates, evasively.
“You can have no difficulty in answering that question,” said the major, sternly.
“Pardon me, sir. I find considerable difficulty in answering any question, situated as I am.”
“Have you seen Miss Mowbray?” asked Ranulph, eagerly.
“Or my mother?” said the major, in the same breath.
“Neither,” replied Coates, rather relieved by these questions.
“I suspect you are deceiving us, sir,” said the major. “Your manner is confused. I am convinced you know more of this matter than you choose to explain; and if you do not satisfy me at once, fully and explicitly, I vow to Heaven ——" and the major’s sword described a glittering circle round his head.
“Are you privy to their concealment?” asked Ranulph. “Have you seen aught of them, or of Luke Bradley?”
“Speak, or this moment is your last,” said the major.
“If it is my last, I cannot speak,” returned Coates. “I can make neither head nor tail of your questions, gentlemen.”
“And you positively assure me you have not seen Mrs. Mowbray and her daughter?” said Ranulph.
Turpin here winked at Coates. The attorney understood him.
“I don’t positively assert that,” faltered he.
“How! — you have seen them?” shouted Ranulph.
“Where are they? — in safety — speak!” added the major.
Another expressive gesture from the highwayman communicated to the attorney the nature of his reply.
“Without, sir — without — yonder,” he replied. “I will show you myself. Follow, gentlemen, follow.” And away scampered Coates, without once venturing to look behind him.
In an instant the ruined hall was deserted, and Turpin alone left behind. In the excitement of the moment his presence had been forgotten. In an instant afterwards the arena was again occupied by a company equally numerous. Rust and Wilder issued from their hiding-places, followed by a throng of the gipsy crew.
“Where is Sir Luke Rookwood?” asked Turpin.
“He remains below,” was the answer returned.
“And Peter Bradley?”
“Stays there likewise.”
“No matter. Now make ready, pals. Give ’em one shout — Hurrah!”
“Hurrah!” replied the crowd, at the top of their voices.
Ranulph Rookwood and his companions heard this shout. Mr. Coates had already explained the stratagem practised upon them by the wily highwayman, as well as the perilous situation in which he himself had been placed; and they were in the act of returning to make good his capture, when the loud shouts of the crew arrested them. From the clamor, it was evident that considerable reinforcement must have arrived from some unlooked-for quarter; and, although burning to be avenged upon the audacious highwayman, the major felt it would be a task of difficulty, and that extreme caution could alone ensure success. With difficulty restraining the impatience of Ranulph, who could scarcely brook these few minutes of needful delay, Major Mowbray gave particular instructions to each of the men in detail, and caused several of them to dismount. By this arrangement Mr. Coates found himself accommodated with a steed and a pair of pistols, with which latter he vowed to wreak his vengeance upon some of his recent tormentors. After a short space of time occupied in this manner, the troop slowly advanced towards the postern, in much better order than upon the previous occasion; but the stoutest of them quailed as they caught sight of the numerous gipsy-gang drawn out in battle array within the abbey walls. Each party scanned the other’s movements in silence and wonder, anxiously awaiting, yet in a measure dreading, their leader’s signal to begin. That signal was not long delayed. A shot
