Send one of them
to bring the gardener and his two men over here. I've got the thief
locked up."
"My God! who are you?" screamed the affrighted Scotswoman, as the
Prince dropped into English.
"I'm an English officer, madam. Don't be a fool. Rouse these people.
There's been one crime already committed, and there may be another.
There's no one else in the house. Get the three men over here at once
to me. I'll stand guard over this thief." Then as Janet Fairbarn
fled away shrieking and yelling, Harry Hardwicke locked the recovered
package in his own trunk, which stood in his room. Bounding across
the hall, he then dragged his captive over the way and thrust him
in a helpless heap into a chair. Before Hardwicke was dressed, he
had extorted the secret of the rendezvous at the old Martello tower.
"Now, sir, no one has seen you yet," said Hardwicke. "If you guide
me there and save her, you shall cut stick. If you betray me, then,
by God, you shall die on the spot." A groan of acquiescence sealed
the bargain, as the three gardeners, armed with bili-hooks and
pruning-knives, now burst into the room. "One of you stay here with
the women. Light up the whole house now. Let no one leave it till
I return. Now, you two, each take a pistol. Get your lanterns, at
once, and a good club each. Come back instantly here."
The procession was descending the stair, when there was heard
a vigorous knocking on the front door.
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