"Show me to Lady Eversleigh's rooms at once," he said to one of the
servants in the hall.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "what name did you say?"
"Lady Eversleigh--Eversleigh--a widow-lady, staying in this house."
"There must be some mistake, sir. There is no one of that name at
present staying in the hotel," answered the man.
The housekeeper had emerged from a little sitting-room, and had
overheard this conversation.
"No, sir," she said, "we have no one here of that name."
Captain Copplestone's dark face grew deadly pale.
"A trap!" he muttered to himself; "a snare! That letter was a forgery!"
And without a word to the people of the house, he darted back to the
street, sprang into the chaise, crying to the postillions,
"Don't lose a minute in getting a change of horses. I am going back to
Yorkshire."
The intimacy with the household of Raynham Castle, begun by Mr.
Maunders at the supper in the servants'-hall, strengthened as time went
by, and there was no member of the castle household for whom Mr.
Maunders entertained so warm a friendship as that which he felt for
Matthew Brook, the coachman. Matthew began to divide his custom between
the rival taverns of Raynham, spending an evening occasionally at the
"Cat and Fiddle," and appearing to enjoy himself very much at that
Inferior hostelry.
About a fortnight had elapsed after the comfortable supper-party at the
castle, when Mr.
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