as soon as possible. In
consequence, the coast was sedulously watched to prevent his escape, and
the country widely searched, the houses of known royalists being
particularly placed under surveillance; a large reward was offered for
the arrest of the fugitive; the party of the Parliament was everywhere
on the alert for him; only the good faith and sound judgment of his
friends kept him from the hands of his foes.

At Hele House, the fugitive was near the Sussex coast, and his friends
hoped that a passage to France might be secured from some of its small
ports. They succeeded at length. On October 13, in early morning, the
prince, with a few loyal companions, left his last hiding-place. They
took dogs with them, as if they were off for a hunting excursion to the
downs.

That night they spent at Hambledon, in Hampshire. Colonel Gunter, one of
the party, led the way to the house of his brother-in-law, though
without notifying him of his purpose. The master of the house was
absent, but returned while the party were at supper, and was surprised
to find a group of hilarious guests around his table. Colonel Gunter was
among them, however, and explained that he had taken the privilege of
kinship to use his house as his own.

The worthy squire, who loved good cheer and good society, was nothing
loath to join this lively company, though in his first surprise to find
his house invaded a round Cavalier oath broke from his lips. To his
astonishment, he was taken to task for this by a crop-haired member of
the company, who reproved him in true Puritan phrase for his profanity.

"Whom have you here, Gunter?" the squire asked his brother-in-law.
"This fellow is not of your sort. I warrant me the canting chap is some
round-headed rogue's son."

"Not a bit of it," answered the colonel. "He is true Cavalier, though he
does wear his hair somewhat of the shortest, and likes not oaths. He's
one of us, I promise you."

"Then here's your health, brother Roundhead!" exclaimed the host,
heartily, draining a brimming glass of ale to his unknown guest.

The prince, before the feast was over, grew gay enough to prove that he
was no Puritan, though he retained sufficient caution in his cups not
further to arouse his worthy host's suspicions. The next day they
reached a small fishing-village, then known as Brighthelstone, now grown
into the great town of Brighton. Here lay the vessel which had been
engaged. The master of the craft, Anthony T