I smiled. ’Twas plain her clan was no friend to the sons ofDiarmaid.
“My father was out in the ’15, and when he wass a wounded fugitive with the Campbell bloodhounds on his trail Mary Campbell hid him till the chase was past. Then she guided him across the mountains and put him in the way of reaching the Macdonald country. My father married her after the amnesty,” I explained.
The approving light flashed back into her eyes.
“At all events then I am not doubting she wass a good lassie, Campbell or no Campbell; and I am liking it that your father went back and married her.”
“But we are wasting time,” I urged. “What can I do for you? Where do you live? To whom shall I take you?”
She fell to earth at once. “My grief! I do not know. Malcolm has gone to France. He left me with Hamish Gorm in lodgings, but they will not be safe since——” She stopped, and at the memory of what had happened there the wine crept into her cheeks.
“And who is Malcolm?” I asked gently.
“My brother. He iss an agent for King James in London, and he brought me with him. But he was called away, and he left me with the gillie. To-night they broke into my room while Hamish was away,weary fa’ the day! And now where shall I go?”
“My sister is a girl about your age. Cloe would be delighted to welcome you. I am sure you would like each other.”
“You are the good friend to a poor lass that will never be forgetting, and I will be blithe to burden the hospitality of your sister till my brother returns.”
The sharp tread of footsteps on the stairs reached us. A man was coming up, and he was singing languidly a love ditty.
“What is love? ’Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth has present laughter,
What’s to come is still unsure;
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me sweet and twenty.
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.”
Something in the voice struck a familiar chord in my memory, but I could not put a name to its owner. The girl looked at me with eyes grown suddenly horror-stricken. I noticed that her face had taken on the hue of snow.
“We are too late,” she cried softly.
We heard a key fumbling in the lock, and then the door opened—to let in Volney. His hat was sweeping to the floor in a bow when he saw me. He stopped and looked at me in surprise, his lips framing themselves for a whistle. I could see the starch runthrough and take a grip of him. For just a gliff he stood puzzled and angry. Then he came in wearing his ready dare-devil smile and sat down easily on the bed.
“Hope I’m not interrupting, Montagu,” he said jauntily. “I dare say though that’s past hoping for. You’ll have to pardon my cursedly malapropos appearance. Faith, my only excuse is that I did not know the lady was entertaining other visitors this evening.”
He looked at her with careless insolence out of his beautiful dark eyes, and for that moment I hated him with the hate a man will go to hell to satisfy.
“You will spare this lady your insults,” I told him in a low voice. “At least so far as you can. Your presence itself is an insult.”
“Egad, and that’s where the wind sits, eh? Well, well, ’tis the manner of the world. When the cat’s away!”
A flame of fire ran through me. I took a step toward him, hand on sword hilt. With a sweep of his jewelled hand he waved me back.
“Fie, fie, Kenn! In a lady’s presence?”
Volney smiled at the girl in mock gallantry and my eyes followed his. I never saw a greater change. She was transformed. Her lithe young figure stood out tall and strong, every line of weariness gone.Hate, loathing, scorn, one might read plainly there, but no trace of fear or despair. She might have been a lioness defending her young. Her splendour of dark auburn hair, escaped and fallen free to her waist, fascinated me with the luxuriance of its disorder. Volney’s lazy admiration quickened to a deeper interest. For an instant his breath came faster. His face lighted with the joy of the huntsman after worthy game. But almost immediately he recovered his aplomb. Turning to me, he asked with his odd light smile,
“Staying long, may I ask?”
My passion was gone. I was possessed by a slow fire as steady and as enduring as a burning peat.
“I have not quite made up my mind how long to stay,” I answered coldly. “When I leave the lady goes with me, but I haven’t decided yet what to do with you.”
He began to laugh. “You grow amusing. ’Slife, you are not all country boor after all! May it please you, what are the alternatives regarding my humble self?” he drawled, leaning back with an elbow on the pillow.
“Well, I might kill you.”
“Yes, you might. And—er— What would I be doing?” he asked negligently.
“Or, since there is a lady present, I might leave you till another time.”
His handsome, cynical face, with its curious shifting lights and shadows, looked up at me for once suffused with genuine amusement.
“Stap me, you’d make a fortune as a play actor. Garrick is a tyro beside you. Some one was telling me that your financial affairs had been going wrong. An it comes to the worst, take my advice and out-Garrick Garrick.”
“You are very good. Your interest in my affairs charms me, Sir Robert. ’Tis true they are not promising. A friend duped me. He held the Montagu estates higher than honour.”
He appeared to reflect. “Friend? Don’t think I’m acquainted with any of the kind, unless a friend is one who eats your dinners, drinks your wines, rides your horses, and”—with a swift sidelong look at the girl—“makes love to your charming adored.”
Into the girl’s face the colour flared, but she looked at him with a contempt so steady that any man but Volney must have winced.
“Friendship!” she cried with infinite disdain. “What can such as you know of it? You are false as Judas. Did you not begowk my honest brother with fine words till he and I believed you oneof God’s noblemen, and when his back was fairly turned——?”
“I had the best excuse in London for my madness, Aileen,” he said with the wistful little laugh that had gone straight to many a woman’s heart.
Her eye flashed and her bosom heaved. The pure girl-heart read him like an open book.
“And are you thinking me so mean a thing as still to care for your honeyed words? Believe me, there iss no viper on the braes of Raasay more detestable to me than you.”
I looked to see him show anger, but he nursed his silk-clad ankle with the same insolent languor. He might have been a priest after the confessional for all the expression his face wore.
“I like you angry, Aileen. Faith, ’tis worth being the object of your rage to see you stamp that pretty foot and clench those little hands I love to kiss. But Ecod! Montagu, the hour grows late. The lady will lose her beauty sleep. Shall you and I go down-stairs and arrange for a conveyance?”
He bowed low and kissed his fingers to the girl. Then he led the way out of the room, fine and gallant and debonair, a villain every inch of him.
“Will you be leaving me?” the girl cried with parted lips.
“Not for long,” I told her. “Do not fear. I shallhave you out of here in a jiff,” and with that I followed at his heels.
Sir Robert Volney led the way down the corridor to a small room in the west wing, where flaring, half-burnt candles guttering in their sconces drove back the darkness. He leaned against the mantel and looked long at me out of half-closed eyes.
“May I ask to what is due the honour of your presence to-night?” he drawled at last.
“Certainly.”
“Well?”
“I have said you may ask,” I fleered rudely. “But for me— Gad’s life! I am not in the witness box.”
He took his snuff mull from his waistcoat pocket and offered it me, then took a pinch and brushed from his satin coat imaginary grains with prodigious care.
“You are perhaps not aware that I have the right to ask. It chances that this is my house.”
“Indeed! And the lady we have just left——?”
“——Is, pardon me, none of your concern.”
“Ah! I’m not so sure of that.”
“Faith then, you’ll do well to make sure.”
“And—er—Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh?”
“Quite another matter! You’re out of court again, Mr. Montagu.”
“Egad, I enter an exception. The lady we have just left is of another mind in the affair. She is the court of last resort, and, I believe, not complaisant to your suit.”
“She will change her mind,” he said coolly.
“I trust so renowned a gallant as Sir Robert would not use force.”
“Lard, no! She is a woman and therefore to be won. But I would advise you to dismiss the lady from your mind. ’Ware women, Mr. Montagu! You will sleep easier.”
“In faith, a curious coincidence! I was about to tender you the same advice, Sir Robert,” I told him lightly.
“You will forget the existence of such a lady if you are wise?”
“Wisdom comes with age. I am for none of it.”
“Yet you will do well to remember your business and forget mine.”
“I have no business of my own, Sir Robert. Last night you generously lifted all sordid business cares from my mind, and now I am quite free to attend those of my neighbours.”
He shrugged his shoulders in the French way. “Very well. A wilful man! You’ve had your warning, and— I am not a man to be thwarted.”
“I might answer that I am not a man to be frightened.”
“You’ll not be the first that has answered that. The others have ‘Hic Jacet’ engraved on their door plates. Well, it’s an unsatisfactory world at best, and Lard! they’re well quit of it. Still, you’re young.”
“And have yet to learn discretion.”
“That’s a pity too,” he retorted lightly. “The door is waiting for you. Better take it, Mr. Montagu.”
“With the lady?”
“I fear the lady is tired. Besides, man, think of her reputation. Zounds! Can she gad about the city at night alone with so gay a spark as you? ’Tis a censorious world, and tongues will clack. No, no! I will save you from any chance of such a scandal, Mr. Montagu.”
“Faith, one good turn deserves another. I’ll stay here to save your reputation, Sir Robert.”
“I fear that mine is fly-blown already and something the worse for wear. It can take care of itself.”
“Yet I’ll stay.”
“Gad’s life! Stay then.”
Volney had been standing just within the door, and at the word he stepped out and flung it to. I sprang forward, but before I reached it the click sounded. I was a prisoner, caught like a fly in a spider’s web, andmuch it helped me to beat on the iron-studded door till my hand bled, to call on him to come in and fight it out like a man, to storm up and down the room in a stress of passion.
Presently my rage abated, and I took stock of my surroundings. The windows were barred with irons set in stone sockets by masonry. I set my knee against the window frame and tugged at them till I was moist with perspiration. As well I might have pulled at the pillars of St. Paul’s. I tried my small sword as a lever, but it snapped in my hand. Again I examined the bars. There was no way but to pick them from their sockets by making a groove in the masonry. With the point of my sword I chipped industriously at the cement. At the end of ten minutes I had made perceptible progress. Yet it took me another hour of labour to accomplish my task. I undid the blind fastenings, clambered out, and lowered myself foot by foot to the ground by clinging to the ivy that grew thick along the wall. The vine gave to my hand, and the last three yards I took in a rush, but I picked myself up none the worse save for a torn face and bruised hands.
The first fall was Volney’s, and I grudged it him; but as I took my way to Balmerino’s lodgings my heart was far from heavy. The girl was safe for the present. I knew Volney well enough for that.That his plan was to take her to The Oaks and in seclusion lay a long siege to the heart of the girl, I could have sworn. But from London to Epsom is a far cry, and between them much might happen through chance and fate and—Kenneth Montagu.
[2]Speldering in the glaur—sprawling in the mud.
Speldering in the glaur—sprawling in the mud.
CHAPTER IIIDEOCH SLAINT AN RIGH!
“You’re late, Kenn,” was Balmerino’s greeting to me.
“Faith, my Lord, I’m earlier than I might have been. I found it hard to part from a dear friend who was loathe to let me out of his sight,” I laughed.
The Scotchman buckled on his sword and disappeared into the next room. When he returned a pair of huge cavalry pistols peeped from under his cloak.
“Going to the wars, my Lord?” I quizzed gaily.
“Perhaps. Will you join me?”
“Maybe yes and maybe no. Is the cause good?”
“The best in the world.”
“And the chances of success?”
“Fortune beckons with both hands.”
“Hm! Has she by any chance a halter in her hands for Kenn Montagu and an axe for Balmerino since he is a peer?”
“Better the sharp edge of an axe than the dull edge of hunger for those we love,” he answered with a touch of bitterness.
His rooms supplied the sermon to his text. Gauntpoverty stared at me on every hand. The floor was bare and the two ragged chairs were rickety. I knew now why the white-haired peer was so keen to try a hazard of new fortunes for the sake of the wife in the North.
“Where may you be taking me?” I asked presently, as we hurried through Piccadilly.
“If you ask no questions——” he began dryly.
“——You’ll tell me no lies. Very good. Odd’s my life, I’m not caring! Any direction is good enough for me—unless it leads to Tyburn. But I warn you that I hold myself unpledged.”
“I shall remember.”
I was in the gayest spirits imaginable. The task I had set myself of thwarting Volney and the present uncertainty of my position had combined to lend a new zest to life. I felt the wine of youth bubble in my veins, and I was ready for whatever fortune had in store.
Shortly we arrived at one of those streets of unimpeachable respectability that may be duplicated a hundred times in London. Its characteristics are monotony and dull mediocrity; a dead sameness makes all the houses appear alike. Before one of these we stopped.
Lord Balmerino knocked, A man came to the door and thrust out a head suspiciously. There wasa short whispered colloquy between him and the Scotch lord, after which he beckoned me to enter. For an instant I hung back.
“What are you afraid of, man?” asked Balmerino roughly.
I answered to the spur and pressed forward at once. He led the way along a dark passage and down a flight of stone steps into a cellar fitted up as a drinking room. There was another low-toned consultation before we were admitted. I surmised that Balmerino stood sponsor for me, and though I was a little disturbed at my equivocal position, yet I was strangely glad to be where I was. For here was a promise of adventure to stimulate a jaded appetite. I assured myself that at least I should not suffer dulness.
There were in the room a scant dozen of men, and as I ran them over with my eye the best I could say for their quality in life was that they had not troubled the tailor of late. Most of them were threadbare at elbow and would have looked the better of a good dinner. There were two or three exceptions, but for the most part these broken gentlemen bore the marks of recklessness and dissipation. Two I knew: the O’Sullivan that had assisted at the plucking of a certain pigeon on the previous night, and Mr. James Brown, alias Mac-something or other, of the supple sword and the Highland slogan.
Along with another Irishman named Anthony Creagh the fellow O’Sullivan rushed up to my Lord, eyes snapping with excitement. He gave me a nod and a “How d’ye do, Montagu? Didn’t know you were of the honest party,” then broke out with—
“Great news, Balmerino! The French fleet has sailed with transports for fifteen thousand men. I have advices direct from the Prince. Marshal Saxe commands, and the Prince himself is with them. London will be ours within the week. Sure the good day is coming at last. The King—God bless him!—will have his own again; and a certain Dutch beer tub that we know of will go scuttling back to his beloved Hanover, glory be the day!”
Balmerino’s eyes flashed.
“They have sailed then at last. I have been expecting it a week. If they once reach the Thames there is no force in England that can stop them,” he said quietly.
“Surely the small fleet of Norris will prove no barrier?” asked another dubiously.
“Poof! They weel eat heem up jus’ like one leetle mouse, my frien’,” boasted a rat-faced Frenchman with a snap of his fingers. “Haf they not two sheeps to his one?”
“Egad, I hope they don’t eat the mutton then and let Norris go,” laughed Creagh. He was a devil-may-careIrishman, brimful of the virtues and the vices of his race.
I had stumbled into a hornet’s nest with a vengeance. They were mad as March hares, most of them. For five minutes I sat amazed, listening to the wildest talk it had ever been my lot to hear. The Guelphs would be driven out. The good old days would be restored; there would be no more whiggery and Walpolism; with much more of the same kind of talk. There was drinking of wine and pledging of toasts to the King across the water, and all the while I sat by the side of Balmerino with a face like whey. For I was simmering with anger. I foresaw the moment when discovery was inevitable, and in those few minutes while I hung back in the shadow and wished myself a thousand miles away hard things were thought of Arthur Elphinstone Lord Balmerino. He had hoped to fling me out of my depths and sweep me away with the current, but I resolved to show him another ending to it.
Presently Mr. James Brown came up and offered me a frank hand of welcome. Balmerino introduced him as Captain Donald Roy Macdonald. I let my countenance express surprise.
“Surely you are mistaken, my Lord. This gentleman and I have met before, and I think his name is Brown.”
Macdonald laughed a little sheepishly. “The air of London is not just exactly healthy for Highland Jacobite gentlemen at present. I wouldna wonder but one might catch the scarlet fever gin he werena carefu’, so I just took a change of names for a bit while.”
“You did not disguise the Highland slogan you flung out last night,” I laughed.
“Did I cry it?” he asked. “It would be just from habit then. I didna ken that I opened my mouth.” Then he turned to my affairs. “And I suppose you will be for striking a blow for the cause like the rest of us. Well then, the sooner the better. I am fair wearying for a certain day that is near at hand.”
With which he began to hum “The King shall have his own again.”
I flushed, and boggled at the “No!” that stuck in my throat. Creagh, standing near, slewed round his head at the word.
“Eh, what’s that? Say that again, Montagu!”
I took the bull by the horns and answered bluntly, “There has been a mistake made. George is a good enough king for me.”
I saw Macdonald stiffen, and angry amazement leap to the eyes of the two Irishmen.
“’Sblood! What the devil! Why are you here then?” cried Creagh.
His words, and the excitement in his raised voice, rang the bell for a hush over the noisy room. Men dropped their talk and turned to us. A score of fierce suspicious eyes burnt into me. My heart thumped against my ribs like a thing alive, but I answered—steadily and quietly enough, I dare say—“You will have to ask Lord Balmerino that. I did not know where he was bringing me.”
“Damnation!” cried one Leath. “What cock and bull tale is this? Not know where he was bringing you! ’Slife, I do not like it!”
I sat on the table negligently dangling one foot in air. For that matter I didn’t like it myself, but I was not going to tell him so. Brushing a speck of mud from my coat I answered carelessly,
“Like it or mislike it, devil a bit I care!”
“Ha, ha! I theenk you will find a leetle reason for caring,” said the Frenchman ominously.
“Stab me, if I understand,” cried Creagh. “Balmerino did not kidnap you here, did he? Devil take me if it’s at all clear to me!”
O’Sullivan pushed to the front with an evil laugh.
“’T is clear enough to me,” he said bluntly. “It’s the old story of one too many trusted. He hears our plans and then the smug-faced villain peaches. Next week he sees us all scragged at Tyburn. But he’s made a little mistake this time, sink me! He won’tlive to see the Chevalier O’Sullivan walk off the cart. If you’ll give me leave, I’ll put a name to the gentleman. He’s what they call a spy, and stap my vitals! he doesn’t leave this room alive.”
At his words a fierce cry leaped from tense throats. A circle of white furious faces girdled me about. Rapiers hung balanced at my throat and death looked itchingly at me from many an eye.
As for me, I lazed against the table with a strange odd contraction of the heart, a sudden standing still and then a fierce pounding of the blood. Yet I was quite master of myself. Indeed I smiled at them, carelessly, as one that deprecated so much ado about nothing. And while I smiled, the wonder was passing through my mind whether the smile would still be there after they had carved the life out of me. I looked death in the face, and I found myself copying unconsciously the smirking manners of the Macaronis. Faith, ’t was a leaf from Volney’s life I was rehearsing for them.
This but while one might blink an eye, then Lord Balmerino interrupted. “God’s my life! Here’s a feery-farry about nothing. Put up your toasting fork, De Vallery! The lad will not bite.”
“Warranted to be of gentle manners,” I murmured, brushing again at the Mechlin lace of my coat.
“Gentlemen are requested not to tease the animals,”laughed Creagh. He was as full of heat as a pepper castor, but he had the redeeming humour of his race.
Macdonald beat down the swords. “Are you a’ daft, gentlemen? The lad came with Balmerino. He is no spy. Put up, put up, Chevalier! Don’t glower at me like that, man! Hap-weel rap-weel, the lad shall have his chance to explain. I will see no man’s cattle hurried.”
“Peste! Let him explain then, and not summer and winter over the story,” retorted O’Sullivan sourly.
Lord Balmerino slipped an arm through mine. “If you are quite through with your play acting, gentlemen, we will back to reason and common sense again. Mr. Montagu may not be precisely a pronounced Jack, but then he doesn’t give a pinch of snuff for the Whigs either. I think we shall find him open to argument.”
“He’d better be—if he knows what’s good for him,” growled O’Sullivan.
At once I grew obstinate. “I do not take my politics under compulsion, Mr. O’Sullivan,” I flung out.
“Then you shouldn’t have come here. You’ve drawn the wine, and by God! you shall drink it.”
“Shall I? We’ll see.”
“No, no, Kenn! I promise you there shall be no compulsion,” cried the old Lord. Then to O’Sullivanin a stern whisper, “Let be, you blundering Irish man! You’re setting him against us.”
Balmerino was right. Every moment I grew colder and stiffer. If they wanted me for a recruit they were going about it the wrong way. I would not be frightened into joining them.
“Like the rest of us y’ are a ruined man. Come, better your fortune. Duty and pleasure jump together. James Montagu’s son is not afraid to take a chance,” urged the Scotch Lord.
Donald Roy’s eyes had fastened on me from the first like the grip-of steel. He had neither moved nor spoken, but I knew that he was weighing me in the balance.
“I suppose you will not be exactly in love with the wamey Dutchmen, Mr. Montagu?” he asked now.
I smiled. “If you put it that way I don’t care one jack straw for the whole clamjamfry of them.”
“I was thinking so. They are a different race from the Stuarts.”
“They are indeed,” I acquiesced dryly. Then the devil of mischief stirred in me to plague him. “There’s all the difference of bad and a vast deal worse between them. It’s a matter of comparisons,” I concluded easily.
“You are pleased to be facetious,” returned O’Sullivan sourly. “But I would ask you to rememberthat you are not yet out of the woods, Mr. Montagu. My Lord seems satisfied, but here are some more of us waiting a plain answer to this riddle.”
“And what may the riddle be?” I asked.
“Just this. What are you doing here?”
“Faith, that’s easy answered,” I told him jauntily. “I’m here by invitation of Lord Balmerino, and it seems I’m not overwelcome.”
Elphinstone interrupted impatiently.
“Gentlemen, we’re at cross purposes. You’re trying to drive Mr. Montagu, and I’m all for leading him. I warn you he’s not to be driven. Let us talk it over reasonably.”
“Very well,” returned O’Sullivan sulkily. “Talk as long as you please, but he doesn’t get out of this room till I’m satisfied.”
“We are engaged on a glorious enterprise to restore to these islands their ancient line of sovereigns. You say you do not care for the Hanoverians. Why not then strike a blow for the right cause?” asked Leath.
“Right and wrong are not to be divided by so clean a cut,” I told him. “I am no believer in the divine inheritance of kings. In the last analysis the people shall be the judge.”
“Of course; and we are going to put it to the test.”
“You want to set the clock back sixty years. It will not do.”
“We think it will. We are resolved at least to try,” said Balmerino.
I shrugged my shoulders. “The times are against you. The Stuarts have dropped out of the race. The mill cannot grind with the water that is past.”
“And if the water be not past?” asked Leath fiercely.
“Mar found it so in the ’15, and many honest gentlemen paid for his mistake with their heads. My father’s brother for one.”
“Mar bungled it from start to finish. He had the game in his own hands and dribbled away his chances like a coward and a fool.”
“Perhaps, but even so, much water has passed under London Bridge since then. It is sixty years since the Stuarts were driven out. Two generations have slept on it.”
“Then the third generation of sleepers shall be wakened. The stream is coming down in spate,” said Balmerino.
“I hear you say it,” I answered dryly.
“And you shall live to see us do it, Mr. Montagu. The heather’s in a blaze already. The fiery cross will be speeding from Badenoch to the Braes of Balwhidder.The clans will all rise whatever,” cried Donald Roy.
“I’m not so sure about Mr. Montagu living to see it. My friends O’Sullivan and De Vallery seem to think not,” said Creagh, giving me his odd smile. “Now, I’ll wager a crown that——”
“Whose crown did you say?” I asked politely, handing him back his smile.
“The government cannot stand out against us,” argued Balmerino. “The Duke of Newcastle is almost an imbecile. The Dutch usurper himself is over in Hanover courting a new mistress. His troops are all engaged in foreign war. There are not ten thousand soldiers on the island. At this very moment the King of France is sending fifteen thousand across in transports. He will have no difficulty in landing them and London cannot hold out.”
“Faith, he might get his army here. I’m not denying that. But I’ll promise him trouble in getting it away again.”
“The Highlands are ready to fling away the scabbard for King James III,” said Donald Roy simply.
“It is in my mind that you have done that more than once before and that because of it misguided heads louped from sturdy shoulders,” I answered.
“Wales too is full of loyal gentlemen. What can the Hanoverians do if they march across the borderto join the Highlanders rolling down from the North and Marshal Saxe with his French army?”
“My imagination halts,” I answered dryly. “You will be telling me next that England is wearying for a change back to the race of Kings she has twice driven out.”
“I do say it,” cried Leath. “Bolingbroke is already negotiating with the royal family. Newcastle is a broken reed. Hervey will not stand out. Walpole is a dying man. In whom can the Dutchman trust? The nation is tired of them, their mistresses and their German brood.”
“When we had them we found these same Stuarts a dangerous and troublesome race. We could not in any manner get along with them. We drove them out, and then nothing would satisfy us but we must have them back again. Well, they had their second chance, and we found them worse than before. They had not learnt the lesson of the age. They——”
“Split me, y’are not here to lecture us, Mr. Montagu,” cried Leath with angry eye. “Damme, we don’t care a rap for your opinions, but you have heard too much. To be short, the question is, will you join us or won’t you?”
“To be short then, Mr. Leath, not on compulsion.”
“There’s no compulsion about it, Kenn. If you join it is of your own free will,” said Balmerino.
“I think not. Mr. Montagu has no option in the matter,” cried O’Sullivan. “He forfeited his right to decide for himself when he blundered in and heard our plans. Willy nilly, he must join us!”
“And if I don’t?”
His smile was like curdled milk. “Have you made your will, Mr. Montagu?”
“I made it at the gaming table last night, and the Chevalier O’Sullivan was one of the legatees,” I answered like a flash.
“Touché, Sully,” laughed Creagh. “Ecod, I like our young cockerel’s spirit.”
“And I don’t,” returned O’Sullivan. “He shall join us, or damme——” He stopped, but his meaning was plain to be read.
I answered dourly. “You may blow the coals, but I will not be het.”
“Faith, you’re full of epigrams to-night, Mr. Montagu,” Anthony Creagh was good enough to say. “You’ll make a fine stage exit—granting that Sully has his way. I wouldn’t miss it for a good deal.”
“If the house is crowded you may have my seat for nothing,” was my reply. Strange to say my spirits were rising. This was the first perilous adventure of my life, and my heart sang. Besides, I had confidence enough in Balmerino to know that he wouldnever stand aside and let me suffer for his indiscretion if he could help it.
The old Lord’s troubled eyes looked into mine. I think he was beginning to regret this impulsive experiment of his. He tried a new tack with me.
“Of course there is a risk. We may not win. Perhaps you do well to think of the consequences. As you say, heads may fall because of the rising.”
The dye flooded my cheeks.
“You might have spared me that, my Lord. I am thinking of the blood of innocent people that must be spilled.”
“Your joining us will neither help nor hinder that.”
“And your not joining us will have deucedly unpleasant effects for you,” suggested O’Sullivan pleasantly.
Lord Balmerino flung round on him angrily, his hand on sword hilt. “I think you have forgotten one thing, Mr. O’Sullivan.”
“And that is——?”
“That Mr. Montagu came here as my guest. If he does not care to join us he shall be free as air to depart.”
O’Sullivan laughed hardily. “Shall he? Gadzooks! The Chevalier O’Sullivan will have a word to say with him first. He did not come as any guest of mine.What the devil! If you were not sure of him, why did you bring him?”
Balmerino fumed, but he had no answer for that. He could only say,—
“I thought him sure to join, but I can answer for his silence with my life.”
“’T will be more to the point that we do not answer for his speech with our lives,” grumbled Leath.
The Frenchman leaned forward eagerly. “You thought heem to be at heart of us, and you were meestaken; you theenk heem sure to keep our secret, but how are we to know you are not again meestaken?”
“Sure, that’s easy,” broke out O’Sullivan scornfully. “We’ll know when the rope is round our gullets.”
“Oh, he won’t peach, Sully. He isn’t that kind. Stap me, you never know a gentleman when you see one,” put in Creagh carelessly.
The young Highlander Macdonald spoke up. “Gentlemen, I’m all for making an end to this collieshangie. By your leave, Lord Balmerino, Mr. Creagh and myself will step up-stairs with this gentleman and come to some composition on the matter. Mr. Montagu saved my life last night, but I give you the word of Donald Roy Macdonald that if I am not satisfied in the end I will plant six inches of steel inhis wame for him to digest, and there’s gumption for you at all events.”
He said it as composedly as if he had been proposing a stroll down the Row with me, and I knew him to be just the man who would keep his word. The others knew it too, and presently we four found ourselves alone together in a room above.
“Is your mind so set against joining us, Kenn? I have got myself into a pickle, and I wish you would just get me out,” Balmerino began.
“If they had asked me civilly I dare say I should have said ‘Yes!’ an hour ago, but I’ll not be forced in.”
“Quite right, too. You’re a broth of a boy. I wouldn’t in your place, Montagu, and I take off my hat to your spirit,” said Creagh. “Now let’s begin again.”—He went to the door and threw it open.—“The way is clear for you to leave if you want to go, but I would be most happy to have you stay with us. It’s men like you we’re looking for, and— Won’t you strike a blow for the King o’er the sea, Montagu?”
“He is of the line of our ancient monarchs. He and his race have ruled us a thousand years,” urged Balmerino. “They have had their faults perhaps——”
“Perhaps,” I smiled.
“Well, and if they have,” cried Donald Roy hotly in the impetuous Highland way. “Is this a time to be remembering them? For my part, I will be forgetting their past faults and minding only their present distresses.”
“It appears as easy for a Highlander to forget the faults of the Stuarts as it is for them to forget his services,” I told him.
“Oh, you harp on their faults. Have you none of your own?” cried Elphinstone impatiently. “I have seen and talked with the young Prince. He is one to follow to the death. I have never met the marrow of him.”
“I think of the thousands who will lose their lives for him.”
“Well, and that’s a driech subject, too, but Donald Roy would a hantle rather die with claymore in hand and the whiddering steel aboot his head than be always fearing to pay the piper,” said the young Highlander blithely.
“Your father was out for the King in the ’15,” said Balmerino gently.
Oh, Arthur Elphinstone had the guile for all his rough ways. I was moved more than I cared to own. Many a time I had sat at my father’s knee and listened to the tale of “the ’15.” The Highland blood in me raced the quicker through my veins. All the music of the heather hills and the wimpling burnswooed me to join my kinsmen in the North. My father’s example, his brother’s blood, loyalty to the traditions of my family, my empty purse, the friendship of Balmerino and Captain Macdonald, all tugged at my will; but none of them were so potent as the light that shone in the eyes of a Highland lassie I had never met till one short hour before. I tossed aside all my scruples and took the leap.
“Come!” I cried. “Lend yourselves to me on a mission of some danger for one night and I will pledge myself a partner in your enterprise. I can promise you that the help I ask of you may be honourably given. A fair exchange is no robbery. What say you?”
“Gad’s life, I cry agreed. You’re cheap at the price, Mr. Montagu. I’m yours, Rip me, if you want me to help rum-pad a bishop’s coach,” exclaimed the Irishman.
“Mr. Creagh has just taken the words out of my mouth,” cried Donald Roy. “If you’re wanting to lift a lassie or to carry the war to a foe I’ll be blithe to stand at your back. You may trust Red Donald for that whatever.”
“You put your finger on my ambitions, Captain Macdonald. I’m wanting to do just those two things. You come to scratch so readily that I hope you have had some practice of your own,” I laughed.
There was wine on the table and I filled the glasses.
“If no other sword leaves scabbard mine shall,” I cried in a flame of new-born enthusiasm. “Gentlemen, I give you the King over the water.”
“King James! God bless him,” echoed Balmerino and Creagh.
“Deoch slaint an Righ! (The King’s Drink). And win or lose, we shall have a beautiful time of it whatever,” cried Donald gaily.
An hour later Kenneth Montagu, Jacobite, walked home arm in arm with Anthony Creagh and Donald Roy Macdonald. He was setting forth to them a tale of an imprisoned maid and a plan for the rescue of that same lady.
CHAPTER IVOF LOVE AND WAR
All day the rain had splashed down with an unusual persistence, but now there was a rising wind and a dash of clear sky over to the south which promised fairer weather. I was blithe to see it, for we had our night’s work cut out for us and a driving storm would not add to our comfort.
From my hat, from the elbows of my riding-coat, and from my boot-heels constant rivulets ran; but I took pains to keep the pistols under my doublet dry as toast. At the courtyard of the inn I flung myself from my horse and strode to the taproom where my companions awaited me. In truth they were making the best of their circumstances. A hot water jug steamed in front of the hearth where Creagh lolled in a big armchair. At the table Captain Macdonald was compounding a brew by the aid of lemons, spices, and brandy. They looked the picture of content, and I stood streaming in the doorway a moment to admire the scene.
“What luck, Montagu?” asked Creagh.
“They’re at ‘The Jolly Soldier’ all righten routefor Epsom,” I told him. “Arrived a half hour before I left. Hamish Gorm is hanging about there to let us know when they start. Volney has given orders for a fresh relay of horses, so they are to continue their journey to-night.”
“And the lady?”
“The child looks like an angel of grief. She is quite out of hope. Faith, her despair took me by the heart.”
“My certes! I dare swear it,” returned Donald Roy dryly. “And did you make yourself known to her?”
“No, she went straight to her room. Volney has given it out that the lady is his wife and is demented. His man Watkins spreads the report broadcast to forestall any appeal she may make for help. I talked with the valet in the stables. He had much to say about how dearly his master and his mistress loved each other, and what a pity ’twas that the lady has lately fallen out of her mind by reason of illness. ’Twas the one thing that spoilt the life of Mr. Armitage, who fairly dotes on his sweet lady. Lud, yes! And one of her worst delusions is that he is not really her husband and that he wishes to harm her. Oh, they have contrived well their precious story to avoid outside interference.”
I found more than one cause to doubt the fortunateissue of the enterprise upon which we were engaged. Volney might take the other road; or he might postpone his journey on account of the foul weather. Still other contingencies rose to my mind, but Donald Roy and Creagh made light of them.
“Havers! If he is the man you have drawn for me he will never be letting a smirr of rain interfere with his plans; and as for the other road, it will be a river in spate by this time,” the Highlander reassured me.
“Sure, I’ll give you four to one in ponies the thing does not miscarry,” cried Creagh in his rollicking way. “After the King comes home I’ll dance at your wedding, me boy; and here’s to Mrs. Montagu that is to be, bedad!”
My wildest dreams had never carried me so far as this yet, and I flushed to my wig at his words; but the wild Irishman only laughed at my remonstrance.
“Faith man, ’tis you or I! ’Twould never do for three jolly blades like us to steal the lady from her lover and not offer another in exchange. No, no! Castle Creagh is crying for a mistress, and if you don’t spunk up to the lady Tony Creagh will.”
To his humour of daffing I succumbed, and fell into an extraordinary ease with the world. Here I sat in a snug little tavern with the two most taking comrades in the world drinking a hot punch brewed to a nicety,while outside the devil of a storm roared and screamed.
As for my companions, they were old campaigners, not to be ruffled by the slings of envious fortune. Captain Donald Roy was wont to bear with composure good luck and ill, content to sit him down whistling on the sodden heath to eat his mouthful of sour brose with the same good humour he would have displayed at a gathering of his clan gentlemen where the table groaned with usquebaugh, mountain trout, and Highland venison. Creagh’s philosophy too was all for taking what the gods sent and leaving uncrossed bridges till the morrow. Was the weather foul? Sure, the sun would soon shine, and what was a cloak for but to keep out the rain? I never knew him lose his light gay spirits, and I have seen him at many an evil pass.
The clatter of a horse’s hoofs in the courtyard put a period to our festivities. Presently rug-headed Hamish Gorm entered, a splash of mud from brogues to bonnet.
“What news, Hamish? Has Volney started?” I cried.
“She would be leaving directly. Ta Sassenach iss in ta carriage with ta daughter of Macleod, and he will be a fery goot man to stick a dirk in whatefer,” fumed the gillie.
I caught him roughly by the shoulder. “There will be no dirk play this night, Hamish Gorm. Do you hear that? It will be left for your betters to settle with this man, and if you cannot remember that you will just stay here.”
He muttered sullenly that he would remember, but it was a great pity if Hamish Gorm could not avenge the wrongs of the daughter of his chief.
We rode for some miles along a cross country path where the mud was so deep that the horses sank to their fetlocks. The wind had driven away the rain and the night had cleared overhead. There were still scudding clouds scouring across the face of the moon, but the promise was for a clear night. We reached the Surrey road and followed it along the heath till we came to the shadow of three great oaks. Many a Dick Turpin of the road had lurked under the drooping boughs of these same trees and sallied out to the hilltop with his ominous cry of “Stand and deliver!” Many a jolly grazier and fat squire had yielded up his purse at this turn of the road. For a change we meant to rum-pad a baronet, and I flatter myself we made as dashing a trio of cullies as any gentlemen of the heath among them all.
It might have been a half hour after we had taken our stand that the rumbling of a coach came to our ears. The horses were splashing through the mud,plainly making no great speed. Long before we saw the chaise, the cries of the postilions urging on the horses were to be heard. After an interminable period the carriage swung round the turn of the road and began to take the rise. We caught the postilion at disadvantage as he was flogging the weary animals up the brow of the hill. He looked up and caught sight of us.
“Out of the way, fellows,” he cried testily. Next instant he slipped to the ground and disappeared in the darkness, crying “’Ware highwaymen!” In the shine of the coach lamps he had seen Creagh’s mask and pistol. The valet Watkins, sitting on the box, tried to lash up the leaders, but Macdonald blocked the way with his horse, what time the Irishman and I gave our attention to the occupants of the chaise.
At the first cry of the postilion a bewigged powdered head had been thrust from the window and immediately withdrawn. Now I dismounted and went forward to open the door. From the corner of the coach into which Aileen Macleod had withdrawn a pair of bright eager eyes looked into my face, but no Volney was to be seen. The open door opposite explained his disappearance. I raised the mask a moment from my face, and the girl gave a cry of joy.
“Did you think I had deserted you?” I asked.
“Oh, I did not know. I wass thinking that perhaps he had killed you. I will be thanking God that you are alive,” she cried, with a sweet little lift and tremble to her voice that told me tears were near.
A shot rang out, and then another.
“Excuse me for a moment. I had forgot the gentleman,” I said, hastily withdrawing my head.
As I ran round the back of the coach I came plump into Volney. Though dressed to make love and not war, I’ll do him the justice to say that one was as welcome to him as the other. He was shining in silver satin and blue silk and gold lace, but in each hand he carried a great horse pistol, one of which was still smoking at the barrel. The other he pointed at me, but with my sword I thrust up the point and it went off harmlessly in the air. Then I flung him from me and covered him with my barker. Creagh also was there to emphasize the wisdom of discretion. Sir Robert Volney was as daring a man as ever lived, but he was no fool neither. He looked at my weapon shining on him in the moonlight and quietly conceded to himself that the game was against him for the moment. From his fingers he slipped the rings, and the watch from his pocket-coat. To carry out our pretension I took them and filled my pockets with his jewelry.
“A black night, my cullies,” said Volney as easy as you please.
“The colour of your business,” I retorted thoughtlessly.
He started, looking at me very sharp.
“Else you would not be travelling on such a night,” I explained lamely.
“Ah! I think we will not discuss my business. As it happens, the lady has no jewelry with her. If you are quite through with us, my good fellows, we’ll wish you a pleasant evening. Watkins, where’s that d—d postilion?”
“Softly, Sir Robert! The night’s young yet. Will you not spare us fifteen minutes while the horses rest?” proposed Creagh.
“Oh, if you put it that way,” he answered negligently, his agile mind busy with the problem before him. I think he began to put two and two together. My words might have been a chance shot, but when on the heel of them Creagh let slip his name Volney did not need to be told that we were not regular fly-by-nights. His eyes and his ears were intent to pierce our disguises.
“Faith, my bullies, you deserve success if you operate on such nights as this. An honest living were easier come by, but Lard! not so enticing by a deal. Your enterprise is worthy of commendation,and I would wager a pony against a pinch of snuff that some day you’ll be raised to a high position by reason of it. How is it the old catch runs?
“‘And three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men are we,
As ever did sing three parts in a string,
All under the gallows tree.’
“If I have to get up in the milkman hours, begad, when that day comes I’ll make it a point to be at Tyburn to see your promotion over the heads of humdrum honest folks,” he drawled, and at the tail of his speech yawned in our faces.
“We’ll send you cards to the entertainment when that happy day arrives,” laughed Creagh, delighted of course at the aplomb of the Macaroni.
Donald Roy came up to ask what should be done with Watkins. It appeared that Volney had mistaken him for one of us and let fly at him. The fellow lay groaning on the ground as if he were on the edge of expiration. I stooped and examined him. ’Twas a mere flesh scratch.
“Nothing the matter but a punctured wing. All he needs is a kerchief round his arm,” I said.
Captain Macdonald looked disgusted and a little relieved.
“’Fore God, he deaved (deafened) me with his yammering till I thought him about to ship for theother world. These Englishers make a geyan work about nothing.”
For the moment remembrance of Volney had slipped from our minds. As I rose to my feet he stepped forward. Out flashed his sword and ripped the mask from my face.
“Egad, I thought so,” he chuckled. “My young friend Montagu repairing his fallen fortunes on the road! Won’t you introduce me to the other gentlemen, or would they rather remain incog? Captain Claude Duval, your most obedient! Sir Dick Turpin, yours to command! Delighted, ’pon my word, to be rum-padded by such distinguished—er—knights of the road.”
“The honour is ours,” answered Creagh gravely, returning his bow, but the Irishman’s devil-may-care eyes were dancing.
“A strange fortuity, in faith, that our paths have crossed so often of late, Montagu. Now I would lay something good that our life lines will not cross more than once more.”
“Why should we meet at all again?” I cried. “Here is a piece of good turf under the moonlight. ’Twere a pity to lose it.”
He appeared to consider. “As you say, the turf is all that is to be desired and the light will suffice. Why not? We get in each other’s way confoundedly,and out of doubt will some day have to settle our little difference. Well then, if ’twere done ’twere well done quickly. Faith, Mr. Montagu, y’are a man after my own heart, and it gives me a vast deal of pleasure to accept your proposal. Consider me your most obedient to command and prodigiously at your service.”
Raffish and flamboyant, he lounged forward to the window of the carriage.
“I beg a thousand pardons, sweet, for leaving you a few minutes alone,” he said with his most silken irony. “I am desolated at the necessity, but this gentleman has a claim that cannot be ignored. Believe me, I shall make the absence very short. Dear my life, every instant that I am from you is snatched from Paradise. Fain would I be with you alway, but stern duty”—the villain stopped to draw a plaintive and theatric sigh—“calls me to attend once for all to a matter of small moment. Anon I shall be with you, life of my life.”
She looked at him as if he were the dirt beneath her feet, and still he smiled his winsome smile, carrying on the mock pretense that she was devoted to him.
“Ah, sweet my heart!” he murmured. “’Twere cheap to die for such a loving look from thee. All Heaven lies in it. ’Tis better far to live for many more of such.”
There was a rush of feet and a flash of steel. Donald Roy leaped forward just in time, and next moment Hamish Gorm lay stretched on the turf, muttering Gaelic oaths and tearing at the sod with his dirk in an impotent rage. Sir Robert looked down at the prostrate man with his inscrutable smile.
“Your friend from the Highlands is in a vast hurry, Montagu. He can’t even wait till you have had your chance to carve me. Well, are you ready to begin the argument?”
“Quite at your command. There is a bit of firm turf beyond the oaks. If you will lead the way I shall be with you anon.”
“Lud! I had forgot. You have your adieux to make to the lady. Pray do not let me hurry you,” he said urbanely, as he picked his way daintily through the mud.
When he had gone I turned to the girl.
“You shall be quit of him,” I told her. “You may rely on my friends if—if the worst happens. They will take you to Montagu Grange, and my brother Charles will push on with you to Scotland. In this country you would not be safe from him while he lives.”
Her face was like the snow.
“Iss there no other way whatever?” she cried. “Must you be fighting with this man for me, andyou only a boy? Oh, I could be wishing for my brother Malcolm or some of the good claymores on the braes of Raasay!”
The vanity in me was stung by her words.
“I’m not such a boy neither, and Angelo judged me a good pupil. You might find a worse champion.”
“Oh, it iss the good friend you are to me, and I am loving you for it, but I think of what may happen to you.”
My pulse leaped and my eyes burned, but I answered lightly,
“For a change think of what may happen to him, and maybe to pass the time you might put up a bit prayer for me.”
“Believe me, I will be doing that same,” she cried with shining eyes, and before I divined her intent had stooped to kiss my hand that rested on the coach door.
My heart lilted as I crossed the heath to where the others were waiting for me beyond the dip of the hillock.
“Faith, I began to think you had forgotten me and gone off with the lady yourself,” laughed Volney.
I flung off my cloak and my inner coat, for though the night was chill I knew I should be warm enough when once we got to work. Then, strangely enough,an unaccountable reluctance to engage came over me, and I stood tracing figures on the heath with the point of my small sword.
“Are you ready?” asked the baronet.
I broke out impetuously. “Sir Robert, you have ruined many. Your victims are to be counted by the score. I myself am one. But this girl shall not be added to the list. I have sworn it; so have my friends. There is still time for you to leave unhurt if you desire it, but if we once cross swords one of us must die.”
“And, prithee, Mr. Montagu, why came we here?”
“Yet even now if you will desist——”
His caustic insolent laugh rang out gaily as he mouthed the speech of Tybalt in actor fashion.
“‘What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagus, and thee;
Have at thee, coward.’”
I drew back from his playful lunge.
“Very well. Have it your own way. But you must have some one to act for you. Perhaps Captain Mac—er—the gentleman on your right—will second you.”
Donald Roy drew himself up haughtily. “Feint a bit of it! I’m on the other side of the dyke. Man, Montagu! I’m wondering at you, and him wronging a Hieland lassie. Gin he waits till I stand back of him he’ll go wantin’, ye may lippen (trust) to that.”
“Then it’ll have to be you, Tony,” I said, turning to Creagh. “Guard, Sir Robert!”
“’Sdeath! You’re getting in a hurry, Mr. Montagu. I see you’re keen after that ‘Hic Jacet’ I promised you. Lard! I vow you shall have it.”
Under the shifting moonlight we fell to work on the dripping heath. We were not unevenly matched considering the time and the circumstances. I had in my favour youth, an active life, and a wrist of steel. At least I was a strong swordsman, even though I could not pretend to anything like the mastery of the weapon which he possessed. To some extent his superior skill was neutralized by the dim light. He had been used to win his fights as much with his head as with his hand, to read his opponent’s intention in advance from the eyes while he concealed his own; but the darkness, combined with my wooden face, made this impossible now. Every turn and trick of the game he knew, but the shifting shine and shadow disconcerted him. More than once I heard him curse softly when at a critical moment the scudding clouds drifted across the moon in time to save me.
He had the better of me throughout, but somehow I blundered through without letting him find the chance for which he looked. I kept my head, and parried by sheer luck his brilliant lunges. I broke ground and won free—if but barely—from his incessantattack. More than once he pricked me. A high thrust which I diverted too late with the parade of tierce drew blood freely. He fleshed me again on the riposte by a one-two feint in tierce and a thrust in carte.
“‘L’art de donner et de ne pas recevoir,’” he quoted, as he parried my counter-thrust with debonair ease.
Try as I would I could not get behind that wonderful guard of his. It was easy, graceful, careless almost, but it was sure. His point was a gleaming flash of light, but it never wavered from my body line.
A darker cloud obscured the moon, and by common consent we rested.
“Three minutes for good-byes,” said Volney, suggestively.
“Oh, my friends need not order the hearse yet—at least for me. Of course, if it would be any convenience——”
He laughed. “Faith, you improve on acquaintance, Mr. Montagu, like good wine or—to stick to the same colour—the taste of the lady’s lips.”
I looked blackly at him. “Do you pretend——?”
“Oh, I pretend nothing. Kiss and never tell, egad! Too bad they’re not for you too, Montagu.”
“I see that Sir Robert Volney has added another accomplishment to his vices.”
“And that is——?”
“He can couple a woman’s name with the hint of a slanderous lie.”
Sir Robert turned to Creagh and waved a hand at me, shaking his head sorrowfully. “The country boor in evidence again. Curious how it will crop out. Ah, Mr. Montagu! The moon shines bright again. Shall we have the pleasure of renewing our little debate?”
I nodded curtly. He stopped a moment to say:
“You have a strong wrist and a prodigious good fence, Mr. Montagu, but if you will pardon a word of criticism I think your guard too high.”
“Y’are not here to instruct me, Sir Robert, but——”
“To kill you. Quite so!” he interrupted jauntily. “Still, a friendly word of caution—and the guardisoverhigh! ’Tis the same fault my third had. I ran under it, and——” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Was that the boy you killed for defending his sister?” I asked insolently.
Apparently my hit did not pierce the skin. “No. I’ve forgot the nomination of the gentleman. What matter? He has long been food for worms. Pardon me, I see blood trickling down your sword arm. Allow me to offer my kerchief.”
“Thanks! ’Twill do as it is. Art ready?”
“Lard, yes! And guard lower, an you love me. The high guard is the one fault— Well parried, Montagu!—I find in Angelo’s pupils. Correcting that, you would have made a rare swordsman in time.”
His use of the subjunctive did not escape me. “I’m not dead yet,” I panted.
I parried a feint une-deux, in carte, with the parade in semicircle, and he came over my blade, thrusting low in carte. His laugh rang out clear as a boy’s, and the great eyes of the man blazed with the joy of fight.
“Gad, you’re quick to take my meaning! Ah! You nearly began the long journey that time, my friend.”
He had broken ground apparently in disorder, and by the feel of his sword I made sure he had in mind to parry; but the man was as full of tricks as the French King Louis and with incredible swiftness he sent a straight thrust in high tierce—a thrust which sharply stung my ribs only, since I had flung myself aside in time to save my vitals.
After that came the end. He caught me full and fair in the side of the neck. A moist stifling filled my throat and the turf whirled up to meet the sky. I knew nothing but a mad surge of rage that he had cut me to pieces and I had never touched him once. As I went down I flung myself forward at him wildly.It is to be supposed that he was off guard for the moment, supposing me a man already dead. My blade slipped along his, lurched farther forward, at last struck something soft and ripped down. A hundred crimson points zigzagged before my eyes, and I dropped down into unconsciousness in a heap.