" says the page.

"We must see Lady Castlewood."

"I have orders that nobody goes in to her ladyship--she is sick," says
the page; but at this moment Victoire came out. "Hush!" says she; and,
as if not knowing that any one was near, "What's this noise?" says she.
"Is this gentleman the Doctor?"

"Stuff! we must see Lady Castlewood," says the lawyer, pushing by.

The curtains of her ladyship's room were down, and the chamber dark,
and she was in bed with a nightcap on her head, and propped up by her
pillows, looking none the less ghastly because of the red which was
still on her cheeks, and which she could not afford to forego.

"Is that the Doctor?" she said.

"There is no use with this deception, madam," Captain Westbury said (for
so he was named). "My duty is to arrest the person of Thomas, Viscount
Castlewood, a nonjuring peer--of Robert Tusher, Vicar of Castlewood--and
Henry Holt, known under various other names and designations, a Jesuit
priest, who officiated as chaplain here in the late king's time, and is
now at the head of the conspiracy which was about to break out in this
country against the authority of their Majesties King William and Queen
Mary--and my orders are to search the house for such papers or traces of
the conspiracy as may be found here. Your ladyship will please give me
your keys, and it will be as well for yourself that you should help us,
in every way, in our search."

"You see, sir, that I have the rheumatism, and cannot move," said
the lady, looking uncommonly ghastly as she sat up in her bed, where,
however, she had had her cheeks painted, and a new cap put on, so that
she might at least look her best when the officers came.

"I shall take leave to place a sentinel in the chamber, so that your
ladyship, in case you should wish to rise, may have an arm to lean on,"
Captain Westbury said. "Your woman will show me where I am to look;" and
Madame Victoire, chattering in her half French and half English jargon,
opened while the Captain examined one drawer after another; but, as
Harry Esmond thought, rather carelessly, with a smile on his face, as if
he was only conducting the examination for form's sake.

Before one of the cupboards Victoire flung herself down, stretching out
her arms, and, with a piercing shriek, cried, "Non, jamais, monsieur
l'officier! Jamais! I will rather die than let you see this wardrobe."

But Captain Westbury would open it, still with a smile on his face,
whi