"
So saying, he took the torch which had been left burning, and
turned over the body of the man he had slain before Rupert arrived
on the scene.
"I do not know him," he said, looking steadily at the dead man's
face.
"I know him," Rupert exclaimed in surprise. "He is a saddler of
Derby--a fierce nonconformist and whig, and a preacher at
conventicles. And to think of his being a highwayman!"
"An assassin is a better term," the earl said contemptuously. "I
guessed from their number it was my life, and not my money, that
they sought.
"Now let us look at the fellow you sent to his account."
Rupert hung back as they approached the man he had killed. In those
days of rebellions, executions, and duels, human life was regarded
but lightly. Still, to a lad of little over fifteen the thought
that he had killed a man, even if in fair fight, was very painful.
"Ah, I thought so," the earl said. "This is a creature of a
political enemy. I have seen him in his antechamber. So the order
came from London, and the tools were found here. That will do. Now
let us get this horse out of the traces. It is some years since I
have ridden barebacked.
"No, I thank you," in answer to Rupert's offer of his own horse; "a
saddle matters not one way or the other. There, now for the Chace;
and I shall not be sorry to fall to on the supper which, I doubt
not, the good gentleman your grandfather will have prepared.
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