J. S. Fletcher

“ I' faith, Mistress Marjorie, 'twas not I that told them—'twas not I—'twas not I!”
But I had him by the shoulder and was dragging him out.
“Quick, Simon, quick!” I said. “This way—this way! You shall have your ten golden guineas, but come with me—quick!”
For the first time in the history of our family I broke the tradition of the secret chamber; for I took Simon Trippett into it.
Prince Rupert and Sergeant Bloodyer were at their supper. I pushed Simon into the very midst of them, head and crop.
“Keep him quiet,” said I. “Keep him quiet, if you have to kill him, for now's the time!” ”

“ I think he saw that conviction in my eyes, for suddenly he turned to the other man and laughed.
“Sergeant Bloodyer,” said he, “this young lady hath a pretty discernment, and I would rather throw myself on her mercy than let her remain under a false impression. Mistress Marjorie, your good brother John, Sergeant Bloodyer, and myself chanced by the fortunes of war to be thrown into one another's company in the retreat from Marston Moor this evening, and your brother was conducting me hither to this very safe retreat when he was wounded by our pursuers. I am his majesty's nephew, Prince Rupert.” ”

“ There are pursuers on our track—they were close upon us when we abandoned our horses in a safe place and came hither across the meadow. If they track us here, think you you can keep the secret of the secret chamber safe?”
“Unless they pull the whole house down, sir,” said I, “they'll never find a way in here. Our own servants have never known the secret.”
The man whom the prince had called Sergeant Bloodyer gave a great sigh of content, and, as if he were suddenly satisfied, dropped into a chair ”

“ Not a very strong garrison, you will say, for a great rambling house like ours—an old woman of sixty, though hale and strong, a young maiden of seventeen, and a man of forty, who, if I must tell the truth of him, was scarce worth his meat at any time. ”

“ We are all to be murdered, or worse!”
“Now, may the Lord lend thee sense, thou—” began Martha; but I stopped her from further scolding of poor Simon, whose wits, it was easy to see, were all distraught.
“What is it, Simon?” I said gently. “Tell us.”
Simon fumbled with his cap.
“Mistress Marjorie,” says he, “'tis this, i' faith—I ha' been to Boroughbridge with the brown mare, and there I did hear that king's men and Parliament men have been gathering 'twixt there and York for days, and to-night they are fighting. I heard the cannon with these ears, as I live, Dame Martha ”