At three o'clock in the afternoon, having ridden hard and far without
bite or sup, I came out in a little hamlet huddled about the great London
road where it ran along the hem of a forest, and drew rein before the
"Seven Stars." I was to be in presence with my report at six o'clock, and,
as Derby was only fifteen miles off and the road one of the best, there
was ample time for Sultan and me to take the rest and refreshment we both
stood in need of.

I was, too, in need of quiet and leisure to get my report straightened
out in my mind ready for delivery. The largeness and looseness of my
commission left everything to my discretion, with the vexatious result
that I had discovered nothing. I had, indeed, carried out my orders. I had
been so far west of Derby that I had seen the famous spires of Lichfield
cutting into the sky like three lance-heads, and had learned on abundant
and trustworthy evidence that the Duke's forces there were leaving for the
south, under orders to march with all speed to their original camp at
Merriden Heath. This squared exactly with Master Freake's news, and was
all the stock of positive information I had got together.

Of the kind of news the Prince would best like to hear there was none. Of
preparations to join him, none. Of open well-wishers to his cause, none.
The time when the Stuart banner could rally a host around it had gone
beyond recall. There was no violent feeling the other way. People simply
did not care. The old watchwords were powerless. The old quarrel had been
revived in a world that had forgotten it, and would not be reminded of it.
It was Charles and his Highlanders against George and his regiments, and
as the latter were sure to win, nobody bothered. It is the strange but
exact truth that the only sign I discovered of the great event in
progress, was to come across a group of four respectable men of the middle
station in life bargaining with an innkeeper for the hire of a chaise, in