CHAPTER VIII

DICK'S DISAPPEARANCE

As Dick and his new friend crossed the meadow that divided the farm from Lumley Manor, everyone they met saluted. The people looked after Dick with marked wonder that did not escape him, tired and confused as he felt. He thought Giles's master must be some great lord or other, and that these men wondered at his condescension towards himself.

"They don't know who I am," he thought, "nor what Giles and I have done."

And rather proud of the great man's interest in him, he pressed closer to his side and addressed him with a confidence which something in his companion's bearing kept from being too free. They were the beat friends in the world by the time they had sat together half an hour in the manor-house parlour. There was not a single thing left untold about Giles or himself, Dick considered. There were a great many questions to be asked of Giles's master, only unfortunately Dick was so sleepy that no words could come to his mind. He was annoyed to find that while the gentleman spoke to him his head would nod, and that, unless he rubbed his eyes very hard and very frequently, the room and the gentleman kept fading out of sight. He tried to sit straight on the cushioned window-seat, but found himself slipping down in a most undignified manner over and over again.

"I should think a person might keep awake better," he said in an anxiously polite tone, "had he his head on--a--a--level with--with--"

"With the said person's feet," suggested the gentleman. "Decidedly."

Before Dick could make any effort to achieve the desired position he found himself lying full-length on the cushions, in the most restful attitude imaginable, with a cloak thrown over him.

"I fancy," the gentleman observed gravely, "that a person could keep awake better did he first sleep."

Dick closed his eyes.

"Will you tell me when Giles comes, sir?" he said. "I must be ready to run out and meet him. Dear Giles!"

"It seems to me you love Giles from the bottom of your heart, and don't give the least trifle to any other creature."

Dick curled himself into more luxurious comfort.

"Is no one else," he observed.

"No father or mother, I am aware," said the gentleman thoughtfully; "but have you not a brother?"

"No," said Dick sleepily; "he's dead."

"Oh, then Giles has it all, has he? None left over for--the King, for instance?" and the gentleman twisted his moustache and regarded him with an amused expression.

"The King? No," said Dick solemnly. "One would not love a king, you know. 'Tis not possible. One would fear the King--"

"I see," said the gentleman, inclining his head.

"But I think I love you, sir," Dick said shyly. "Giles does--and Giles--"

His eyes closed just as he felt the gentleman's hand on his hair.

"Then there's nothing to complain of, Dick," he heard him saying, and then was asleep in a second.

Dick slept peacefully hour after hour. It was quite dark in the manor-house parlour when he awoke. He lay a minute trying to remember where he was and what had happened. Then he heard the sentries pacing up and down outside the closed door, and looking round the room, found it empty. He threw off the cloak and got up. His eyes caught the glitter of something brilliant on a table in a dark corner. Boy-like, he must needs go to see what it was. It was a cluster of diamonds in the hat-band of Giles's master. The hat lay on the table, with a pair of perfumed gloves, the gold-headed cane, and a little Latin book. Dick stood, winking back at the winking diamonds, feeling very happy, listening to the bugle-calls without, to the steady tramp of the sentry, to the hum of conversation in the next room, where he now and then recognized the voice of Giles's master. He was in the midst of friends, quite safe to all appearance, so hemmed in with the safeties that surround the near presence of a king that had he been conscious of an enemy he would have felt no fear, and no one need have the least fear on his account it seemed.

About five minutes after he got up there was a great noise of cheering in the camp, and not ten minutes had gone by before the door flew open, and Giles entered in his rags, followed by his master and Dick's tormentor, and the Earl of Newcastle.

They looked round the room. The boy was gone.

"Dick!" Giles cried gaily; and then again louder: "Dick!"

But there was no answer.

Giles looked under the table. The gentleman in tawny laughed.

"Were our young friend at all of a shy or retiring disposition," he said, "one would fancy he had been overcome with confusion at your graciousness, Uncle."

"He fell asleep on the window-seat yonder," said Giles's master.

The gentleman went up and patted the window-seat, and shook his head.

"All solid," he said. "Can't have gone through."

"Have the goodness to question the sentry, and the guard in the hall," said Giles's master to a gentleman behind in the passage.

The earl followed him, and returned in a few moments to say the sentry and guard all assured them that no one had passed for any purpose. The sentry had looked in twenty minutes before, according to his orders, and the young gentleman was sleeping quietly on the window-sill. There had never been any sound from the room.

Giles took a turn through the chamber whilst the rest stood silently contemplating each other. Then he began a rapid search of the walls, till he came to that part which was behind Dick as he stood by the table.

In the panelled oak Giles's finger, warily moving, found an inequality; a spring gave way under pressure, and a door in the wall flew back.

"Hum!" said the one in tawny, and his face changed from gay indifference to interest.

"'Sdeath!" Giles muttered, and passed through into a dark narrow passage, stone-flagged, that led to a door into the garden, concealed outside by a great hedge of yew. The hedge was hollow, having a passage up the middle. Giles and the gentleman went up, and came out at the end into a wood, and then into a meadow, where some of the raw recruits were returning from drill. The gentleman went down to the officer in charge, and questioned him closely. He was a mild-eyed countryman. He had seen no one come out of the wood, but they had only been there ten minutes. Surely there was a misapprehension; no path led from that side of the manor; there was no door on that side. The gentleman bade him go back to the drilling of chaw-bacons.

Giles had waited impatiently while he made his enquiries. They came back together, but the other hurried off to his quarters immediately, being wearied of looking for needles in bottles of hay, as he put it, waving his hand to the world, as it were, and adding: "Shall one child be found that is lost in England at this day?"

"This child shall be found," said Giles's master quietly. "My Lord Newcastle, you will send out to search everywhere for him." Then he laid his hand on Giles's shoulder. "Of what are you thinking?" he asked.

"Of John Dent," said Giles grimly.

"John Dent was arrested four hours ago, sir, said the earl.

"And is he still in ward?" Giles's master demanded.

"Enquiries shall be made," and the earl bowed and retired.

In ten minutes he was back. "John Dent is gone," he said briefly.

Giles stood for a moment thoughtfully, with bent head.

"If you will be so good, my lord," said Giles's master, "as to make out a commission for my friend here, as I directed, and to draw on all loyal persons, in the King's name, for assistance to the utmost, with power to take troops at his pleasure, and a pass to go whithersoever he wills, I shall be glad."

Giles looked up. "I thank you--" he began, and the earl, bowing hastily, left master and servant alone.