“If you mean as how he had Miss Belinda and that young brother of hers with him, which he said as he was his tutor, I won’t,” replied the landlord. “Not but what I never saw a tutor behave like he did, nor wear a coat like his. Too smokey, by half, that’s what he is, and the more fool me to let him into my house! The trouble I’ve had! Let alone Master Tom bringing me into disgrace through getting taken up for a common felon, the way he was, I’ve had Mr. Clitheroe threatening me with hell-fires for letting rakes seduce innocent females under my roof, which I never did, not wittingly, that is! And no sooner does he take himself off than there’s Mr. Mamble on the doorstep, ay, and brought along the constable, what’s more, which is a thing I never had happen to me, not in all my days!”

“Who the devil is Mr. Mamble?” demanded Gideon.

“Ah, you may well ask, sir! Master Tom’s father, that’s who he is!”

Matthew, who had been wholly bewildered by the landlord’s speech, said: “But who is Master Tom? Gideon, it can’t be Gilly! Liversedge! who is this Master Tom?”

“There, sir, I must own that you find me at a loss,” confessed Mr. Liversedge. “I can, however, state that Belinda is without known relatives. Master Tom, in fact, is a mystery.”

“Wait!” said Gideon. “Damme, why didn’t I think to bring my cousin’s letter with me? I fancy he spoke of bear-leading some boy or another. This would appear to be the boy.”

“I don’t know about bear-leading him, sir,” struck in the landlord. “By what Mr. Mamble said, him and that Mr. Snape, which is Master Tom’s real tutor, Mr. Rufford kidnapped Master Tom. Mr. Mamble was talking of going to London to set the Runners on to his heels, but myself I’d say it was more like Master Tom kidnapped him, for a more daring boy I hope I may never clap my eyes on! Nice goings on when the gentry take to highroad robbery, and has to be bailed out of prison! Mr. Mamble has it fixed in his head his son has got into the hands of a rogue which is using him for his wicked ends, and nothing the constable said could make him change his mind! Mind you, I never thought such of Mr. Rufford myself, and no more, didn’t the constable, or Mr. Oare, which is the magistrate here.”

“Highroad robbery!” gasped Matthew incredulously. “Gilly? Fellow, do you say that Mr. Rufford was arrested?”

“No, not him, sir. He wasn’t here when that happened. Dear knows where he was, and I’m sure I never thought to see him again! It was Master Tom that set out to win a purse, and got himself locked up in the Roundhouse. And then what must happen but Miss went off with old Mr. Clitheroe, which is a highly respected Quaker gentleman living in the town!”

“That,” said Mr. Liversedge, shaking his head, “was a mistake. It would not answer at all.”

“No, sir, and nor it did, for back she came again that very evening. But Mr. Rufford was here by that time, and it wasn’t any business of mine, whatever Mr. Clitheroe may choose to say! But it was on account of Mr. Clitheroe that Mr. Rufford up and left with the pair of them last night, instead of spending it here, like he meant to. One of the waiters, which chanced to be outside the door of the private parlour, heard him say he could deal with constables and magistrates, but not with Mr. Clitheroe. And just as well he did go, for Mr. Clitheroe, he came round in such a taking as I never saw half an hour after, and for all Mr. Rufford has a high-up way with him when he chooses, I doubt Mr. Clitheroe wouldn’t have taken no account of that, him being moved by the spirit the way he was.”

“Gideon,” said Matthew, in an awed voice, “do you think that Gilly has run mad?”

“Oh, no, sir!” said the landlord. “Not if you was meaning Mr. Rufford! A very quiet gentleman he is, and knows his way about the world. I never had nothing against him.”

“Do you know where he went to?” Gideon asked. “Was he bound for London?”

“No, sir, he was not. He hired a chaise and pair to take the whole party to Aylesbury, that I can tell you, which is the same as I told Mr. Mamble first thing this morning.”

“To Aylesbury!” The cousins exchanged glances of startled enquiry.

“Now, what the deuce should take him to Aylesbury?” Gideon wondered.

“There’s no understanding any of it!” Matthew declared. “Of course, I see why he should take Belinda with him, but what can he want with this Mamble boy? Who is he? I never met any Mamble! Host, who is Mamble? Do you know him?”

“No, sir, I never see him before. He ain’t a native of these parts, nor he ain’t what I would call true Quality.” He coughed. “A great bacon-faced man, he is, as would make no more than a mouthful of Mr. Rufford—and very willing he is to do it, by what he said! He told the constable as he was an ironmaster from Kettering, and Master Tom his only son. He has it fixed in his head Mr. Rufford means to hold the lad to ransom, for he’s mighty plump in the pockets, which he makes no secret of. And it seems as how Mr. Rufford, or maybe some rogue with him (not but what I never saw no rogues in his company) gave Mr. Snape, the tutor, a wisty leveller, and made off with Master Tom while he was stretched out senseless on the ground. Leastway, that’s his story, and not for me to deny it.”

There seemed to be no way of arriving at an explanation of Tom’s entry into the Duke’s life, but the landlord’s frequent references to his activities led Captain Ware to demand a more exact account of them. The whole story of the attempted robbery on the Stevenage road was then poured into his ears. By the time the Duke’s masterly share in the business had been described to him, his crooked smile had dawned, but Matthew appeared to be stunned. He did not recover his power of speech until they had left the inn, and then he said feebly: “He must be mad!”

“Not he!” said Gideon, grinning.

“But, Gideon, whoever heard of Gilly’s behaving in such a fashion?” He sighed despairingly. “I do wish to God I knew what he is doing!”

“You had best accompany me to Aylesbury, then.”

“Yes, by Jove, I will!” Matthew declared, brightening. “For it is on my way, after all! And there is one thing, Gideon! it is of no use your saying that it is my fault that Gilly has run mad, for I never had anything to do with foisting the Mamble-boy on to him, and if he had gone back to town as soon as he had recovered those curst letters of mine he would never have been kidnapped!”

Gideon only grunted, but Mr. Liversedge said kindly: “Very true, Mr. Ware, very true, but it cannot be denied that your reprehensible conduct towards my unfortunate niece lies at the bottom of all. One must hope that it may be a lesson to you, and when one considers the dangers into which his Grace has been led—”

“Well, if that don’t beat all hollow!” exclaimed Matthew indignantly. “It was you who put my cousin in danger!”

“Precisely so,” agreed Mr. Liversedge. “And who but yourself, sir, was it who introduced me into his Grace’s life?”

“Gideon!” said Matthew, very red in the face, “if you do not have this impudent dog clapped up, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Tell Gilly what you’ll do when you see him at Aylesbury!” recommended his cousin.

But when they readied Aylesbury they failed to discover the Duke at either of the chief hostelries in that town. The landlord of the White Hart informed them that Mr. Rufford, and his young cousins, had left for Reading on the stagecoach as soon as they had swallowed their breakfasts that morning. He added that they were not the first persons to enquire after Mr. Rufford, and expressed the hope that he had not been housing a fugitive from justice.

“But what in the devil’s name is he doing, jauntering about the country in stage-coaches?” almost wailed Matthew, once out of the landlord’s hearing.

“Fleeing from Mr. Mamble, I should think,” replied Gideon flippantly.

“Well, it’s no jesting matter if he did kidnap that boy!” Matthew pointed out. “What do you mean to do now?”

“My blood is up, and I shall follow him. Besides, he may yet need me to protect him from this infuriated parent. You will go back to Oxford.”

“I suppose I must,” sighed Matthew. “But what shall you do with that fellow, Liversedge?”

“Oh, take him along with me! Wragby can look after him.”

“Master Gideon,” said Nettlebed, with a set look on his face, “if you mean to continue searching for his Grace, I am coining with you!”

“By all means!” responded Gideon. “You will be very crowded in the boot, but you may assist Wragby to guard the prisoner. Mr. Liversedge! I fear you may not quite like it, but you are accompanying me to Reading.”

“On the contrary, sir,” replied Mr. Liversedge affably, “I should be sorry to leave you. Owing to the disaster which has befallen the Bird in Hand I find myself temporarily bereft of the means of subsistence. To be abandoned in this town, where I own no acquaintance, would put me to serious inconvenience. I shall be happy to go with you. Let us hope that we may be more fortunate in Reading than we have been in Hitchin or in Aylesbury!”

But when, at the end of a forty-mile drive over an indifferent road, the curricle reached Reading, Fortune (said Mr. Liversedge) seemed disinclined to smile upon its occupants. The Duke’s erratic trail was lost from the moment of his alighting, with his young companions, from the stage, and an exhausting search of all the inns in the town failed to pick up the scent again. Gideon, who had been driving all day, was tired, and consequently, exasperated; and after drawing blank at the fifth inn said that he was determined to find the Duke, if only for the pleasure of wringing his neck. “What the devil has become of him, and what am I to do now?” he demanded.