When the Earl of Beverley had ridden on about five miles, musing over no very pleasant anticipations, he thought he heard the sound of a horse's feet coming at full speed, and turned round to look. He himself was riding fast, but he now beheld a single horseman spurring on still faster; and supposing that the personage who appeared might be some messenger sent after him, with further directions from the king, he drew in his rein and suffered him to ride up.
"Ha, Captain Barecolt!" he exclaimed, as soon as the other came near. "Is anything the matter? have you any message from his majesty!"
"None, my lord," replied Barecolt; "but having heard of your expedition, with a hint that as I had accompanied you before I might do so again, I lost no time in following; but I was obliged to stop a while to change my dress and put on Captain Jersval."
"This is very rash," said the earl, after a moment's thought; "very rash indeed, my good friend. You have been seen by so many in your own character, that you have no chance of remaining undiscovered."
"Nor your lordship either," answered Barecolt.
"You do not understand the matter you speak of, sir," replied the earl. "Even if I am discovered, it may effect my personal safety, but not the king's service; whereas, it you are recognised as one of his majesty's officers in my company, it may entirely frustrate the objects of my journey. You forget, sir, that the remains of Captain Batten's troops are in Hull, and----"
"The remains of Captain Batten's troops are at Boston, my lord," answered Barecolt. "So much have I learned in Beverley. Sir John Hotham would not receive them, saying that he had no need of cavalry, and that, threatened as he was with siege, they would but eat up his provisions. I know my phiz is a remarkable phiz; but you forget that the beauty thereof has been spoiled by this accursed cut over the nose; and, besides, the very object of my going is to make a formal complaint to Sir John Hotham of the conduct of Captain Batten in attacking me and my friends--amongst whom I shall take care not to specify your lordship--and against one Cornet Stumpborough for stopping me. Do not fear, my lord, but that I will extricate myself; and if you have any qualms about taking me with you, why, I can easily go in at another gate, and be ready to help you at any moment."
"Well, we will see," answered Lord Beverley; "we will see. I will think over it by the way;" and, entering into conversation with his companion, he rode on. The various subjects discussed between the noble earl and our renowned friend might not, perhaps, be very interesting to the reader; for, although the dauntless captain at various times approached the subject of those wonderful and surpassing exploits which he had performed during preceding periods of his history, and the recital of which could not fail to excite the admiration and attention of any one possessing common powers of imagination, yet his cruel companion harshly checked him in all such digressions, and forced him to confine his narrative to the precise sorts and kinds of information which he himself desired to obtain. Thus we shall pass over all that took place till the two gentlemen approached within about a mile and a half of the town of Hull, when they perceived a small body of cavalry, apparently reconnoitring the place.
"Let us spur on as fast as possible, my lord," said Captain Barecolt, as soon as he perceived this little force.
But the earl, who had by this time determined that it might be as well that the worthy captain should enter the town with him, though apparently only as a chance companion of the way, and who moreover judged at once that the body which they saw was merely a party of the king's troops examining the fortifications of Hull, replied in a quiet tone; "There is no need for any such speed, my good sir. Those are friends."
"The more reason, my lord, why we should seem to think them enemies," replied Captain Barecolt, who never neglected any opportunity of aruse.
"You are right, you are right, captain," replied the earl, "and are indeed a great master of stratagem."
Thus saying, he spurred his horse into a gallop, and at that pace pursued his way towards the gates. The natural propensity which every creature has to follow another who runs away from it caused half-a-dozen of the Cavaliers to gallop after the two apparent fugitives; but the earl and his companion had a start of some distance, and when they arrived at the gates were about two hundred yards before their pursuers. The whole of this proceeding was seen from the walls, upon which a considerable number of the citizens were assembled; and a few musket-shots were fired upon the party of Cavaliers, as soon as the two gentlemen were under cover. The fire did not injure any one, indeed; but it had the effect of inducing the chasing party to halt and retreat very speedily, and the gates being opened, the Earl of Beverley rode in, followed by Barecolt, with their horses panting from the quick pace at which they had come.
All these circumstances were sufficient indications of hostility towards the royalist party to satisfy the officers of the train-bands at the gates; and with very slight inspection of their passes the earl and his companion were suffered to ride on into the town; but, separating from his noble companion at the corner of the first street, Captain Barecolt rode away towards the "Swan," with instructions from the earl to seek out Mr. O'Donnell, and to make arrangements with him for a meeting on the following day.
In the mean while, the earl rode on towards the house of the governor, and dismounting in the court, demanded with a foreign accent, as before, to speak with Sir John Hotham. The personage to whom he addressed himself was one of the serving-men of that day, known by the general term of "blue-bottles;" but unfortunately, as it turned out, he was attached to the person of Colonel Hotham, and carried the earl's message to him immediately, without any communication with the governor.
After Lord Beverley had been kept waiting about five minutes in a hall, while several persons passed to and fro, and examined him more curiously than was at all pleasant to him, the serving-man reappeared, saying, "Be so good as to follow me, sir;" and led the young nobleman through several long passages, to a small gloomy room on the ground-floor, where he found Colonel Hotham standing by a table, his brow heavy and his eyes bent upon the door. He inclined his head slightly as the earl entered, and said, without asking him to be seated, "Be so good, sir, as to explain your business to me. Sir John Hotham, my father, is too ill to receive you, and I am entrusted with his functions during his indisposition."
"Your pardon, sir," replied the earl calmly, though the meeting was by no means satisfactory to him, and he remarked that the serving-man remained at the door, while the tramp of feet was heard in the passage beyond. "My business is with Sir John Hotham alone, and if he be ill I must wait till he has recovered, for I can communicate with no one but himself."
"You refuse then?" rejoined Colonel Hotham, with a heavy frown and a sharp tone: "you refuse? If so, I shall know what to suppose.
"Really, sir, I know not what you may think fit to suppose," answered Lord Beverley; "but very straightforwardly and simply I do refuse to communicate business concerning Sir John Hotham to any one but himself."
"Then, sir, it is clear you came hither as a spy," said Colonel Hotham, "and you shall be dealt with as such."
The Earl of Beverley smiled, and producing the pass he had received from the governor of Hull, put it in the hands of the parliamentary officer, saying, "That mistake is easily corrected. Here is my pass in due form, under your father's hand and seal."
Colonel Hotham gazed at it with an angry look; and at the same moment the door by which the young nobleman had been introduced opened, and a party of four or five of the train-bands entered, with a prisoner between the two foremost. Lord Beverley turned round at the noise of their feet, and, somewhat to his consternation, beheld in the captive no other than good Diggory Falgate. Had it been Barecolt, he would have counted upon his wit and discretion; but the poor painter had displayed no traits, during the earl's short journey with him, which could at all reassure him, so he expected every moment to hear him claim his acquaintance. But Falgate showed better judgment than was expected; and Colonel Hotham, after staring at the pass for a moment or two, with a good deal of heat but some indecision in his countenance, suddenly seemed to take his resolution, and tore the paper in pieces, saying--
"This is all folly and nonsense! A pass under a feigned name is invalid."
"Sir, you have committed an act of gross injustice!" exclaimed the earl indignantly; "and some day, sooner than you think, you may have to answer for it."
"Indeed!" cried the parliamentarian, with a sneer. "Well, sir, I shall be ready to answer for my acts when needful. See that you be prepared to answer for yours by to-morrow morning. Let loose that fellow!" he continued, turning to the guard; "I can find nothing against him--he is a citizen, it seems; and convey this worthy person to the strong room. Put a sentry over him, and send Captain Marden to me. Take him away, take him away!"
"And what are we to do with this 'un?" asked one of the soldiers.
"Let him loose, fool!" replied Colonel Hotham, waving his hand, and the earl was removed in custody of the party, giving a significant glance to Falgate as he passed. The painter returned it, but said nothing; and Lord Beverley was led along to a small close room, with one high grated window, where the heavy iron-plated door was closed upon him, locked and barred.
The earl seated himself on the only stool, rested his elbow on the table and his head upon his hand, while the struggle between strong resolution and painful anticipations went on in his mind for nearly half-an-hour. His was a heart not easily daunted--well fitted by high principles and a calm and equal temper to endure the rougher and more painful things of life, and to encounter the perils and disasters of a troublous epoch better than lighter and gayer characters and less thoughtful minds. Nevertheless, he could not but feel the bitter disappointment which but too frequently follows on the indulgence of bright and high hopes in this our earthly career. He almost blamed himself for the joyful dreams which he had suffered to rest in his imagination, while standing with sweet Annie Walton at the window of the house in Beverley; and his thoughts ran back from those dear moments into earlier days, recalling every bright spot in the past, thinking of enjoyments gone and pleasures fled away, with a deep and sad consciousness of the transitory nature of every earthly good. Memory is the true "Old Mortality" of the heart, wandering sadly through the scenes of the past, and refreshing the tombstones of joys gone for ever.
As he thus sat, the light began to fade away and night to fall over the earth; but ere it was quite dark he heard footsteps without, and a voice speaking low to the guard at his door. The conversation ceased, but there was no noise of receding steps, and the earl thought, "They are watching how I bear it. They shall know nothing from that. I will sing;" and, folding his arms upon his chest, he raised his eyes to the faint spot of light that still appeared through the high window, and sang, to a plaintive air of the time, some lines composed towards the end of the preceding reign, perhaps by some victim to the coarse tyranny of James I.
Life's brighter part has passed away;The dark remains behind:The autumn brown rests on the earth;Loud howls the wintry wind.But steadfast hope and faith sincereShall still afford their light:While these remain, this mortal gloomCannot be wholly night.The summer flowers that once were hereHave faded from the eye;The merle has ceased to cheer the shade,The lark to wake the sky.Green leaves have fallen from the trees,Dark clouds are overhead;And withered things, beneath my feet,Rustle where'er I tread.But yet I know there is a landWhere all that's lost on earthRevives to blossom and to bloomWith undecaying birth.Thus steadfast hope and faith sincereShall still afford me light,Till other suns shall dissipateThe gloom or mortal night.
Life's brighter part has passed away;
The dark remains behind:
The autumn brown rests on the earth;
Loud howls the wintry wind.
But steadfast hope and faith sincere
Shall still afford their light:
While these remain, this mortal gloom
Cannot be wholly night.
The summer flowers that once were here
Have faded from the eye;
The merle has ceased to cheer the shade,
The lark to wake the sky.
Green leaves have fallen from the trees,
Dark clouds are overhead;
And withered things, beneath my feet,
Rustle where'er I tread.
But yet I know there is a land
Where all that's lost on earth
Revives to blossom and to bloom
With undecaying birth.
Thus steadfast hope and faith sincere
Shall still afford me light,
Till other suns shall dissipate
The gloom or mortal night.
While such misadventures had been the lot of the Earl of Beverley, Captain Barecolt had ridden on unopposed and peaceably to the "Swan" Inn. He was in some apprehension, indeed, lest he should encounter worthy Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, at the house of good Mrs. White; but his mind was prepared to meet any emergency, and therefore he would not be turned from his course by the fear of "any Dry that ever yet was born." Alighting then at the door, he threw the rein of his horse over a hook provided for that especial purpose, and then, mounting the steps, looked in through the panes of glass in the door, which, to say the truth, afforded him no very clear insight into the passage beyond, as each separate square, being manufactured in a somewhat rude fashion, was furnished with a thick green knot or bump in the centre, which greatly impeded the view. All seemed clear, however, and marvellously silent; and, having carried his inspection as far as he judged necessary, the renowned captain opened the door and walked in. As soon as he did so, he perceived the good landlady seated in her little glass-case, alone, and busily engaged in hemming a wimple for her own proper person. She raised her eyes, as usual, at the sound of the opening door, and her face lighted up at the sight of the long limbs that presented themselves, in a manner which showed the illustrious commander that no danger was to be apprehended. Approaching, then, with a gallant air, Captain Barecolt unceremoniously entered the parlour, and saluted the fair hostess, who expressed herself right glad to see him, asking him a thousand questions about "the dear young lady and her adventures on the road."
"All in good time, Mrs. White--all in good time," answered Captain Barecolt. "To-night, God willing, I will give you a true and particular account of all that has happened since last we met; but now I have other things to think of. In the first place, my mouth is as dry as a sick dog's nose, and I would fain have a chopin of something to moisten it."
"That you shall, captain, in a minute," replied the landlady. "You look dusty and tired, as if you had ridden hard."
"And so I am, sweet hostess," answered Barecolt; "and the dust is not more on my garments than between my teeth. My tongue is as parched as a bowl of split peas. Do you not hear it rattle? But do not go yourself for the wine, Mrs. White. Transfer that function to one of your nymphs, and listen to me."
"La, captain! I have no nymphs," answered the landlady, half offended; but our hero waved his hand, saying--
"Well, your maidens then, Mrs. White. Call Sally, and then answer me two or three questions; but first send some one to stable my horse, which is at the door, and, being a modest beast, may as well be removed from the lewd gaze of the townsfolk."
All was performed according to his command; and when Mrs. White returned, Captain Barecolt proceeded, after a deep draught, to put his questions.
"First and foremost, Mrs. White," he said, "what of old Dry?"
"Lord, sir! he is up-stairs, sick in bed!" replied Mrs. White.
"There let him lie, and be the bed on him, white-livered renegade!" said Captain Barecolt. "Then he did not discover that you had aided and abetted in the escape of our fair demoiselle?"
"Oh, not a whit!" replied the landlady. "He was in a mighty rage, to be sure, at first, and he had search made, and a great fuss; but it all ended in nothing, and I managed slily, pretending to help with all my might; so that he grew quite fond and familiar--the nasty old worm! Howsomever, he went out of the gates one day, leaving all his things here, and what happened I don't know; but he came back the next morning, as dull and as dirty-looking as a mixen, took to his bed directly, and has had a doctor at him ever since. I think something must have frightened him sadly, for he has been constantly whining and praying, and the doctor said he had had a turn; but he is much better to-day."
"So far so well, Mrs. White," said Barecolt; "but we must now look to other matters. Do you know aught about Mr. O'Donnell? for, if possible, I must see him tonight."
"I should think you would find him, sir," answered the hostess, "for he keeps himself a great deal at home just now. These are sad times in Hull, sir. There is great suspicion about; and every one whom they fancy to be what they call a malignant is pointed at and watched night and day; and even a poor widow woman like me they cannot help looking after, as if I were a regiment of soldiers; so that customers are afraid to come."
"Well, what of O'Donnell? what of O'Donnell?" demanded Captain Barecolt. "What has this to do with him, my good hostess?"
"Why, bless you, captain don't you know that people say he is a Papist?" exclaimed Mrs. White; "and so they are likely to be more sharp upon him than any one else: that is to say, not the governor, who is very fond of him, people say, because he supplies him with Dantzic and other strong waters better than he can get at home; but since Sir John has been ill of the gout, the colonel, his son, rules everything here in Hull; and a hard rule is his for every one but Roundheads. They may do as they like; some men may lie in bed and sleep, whilst others must get up early in the morning."
All this was news to Captain Barecolt, and news of a very unpleasant character, which made him ponder deeply for several minutes. Being of an active and inquiring turn of mind, he had not left his leisure time unemployed since he quitted Hull; and partly by no very definite hints, sewn together by surmises, and partly by open avowals and accidental conversations, he had been led to the conclusion that some very intimate communication had been opened between Sir John Hotham and the Earl of Beverley, which the illness of the former and the new state of things in the town might sadly derange. He longed eagerly to gain some intelligence of the proceedings of his noble fellow-traveller; and though he had a sufficient portion of the free companion in his character to act upon his own judgment, with very little deference for the commands he received, when it suited his own purpose, yet he had also sufficient of the old soldier in him to obey orders punctually when he could do no better. He therefore resolved to set out for O'Donnell's house at once, though he could not bring his mind to do so without draining another can; and while the worthy landlady went to draw it with her own fair hands, he sat pondering over what was to be done next, with no inconsiderable misgivings in regard to the termination of their expedition. At one time, indeed, he thought of cutting the whole matter very short, walking to the governor's house, demanding to see Colonel Hotham, running him through the body with his Toledo, and, with the assistance of the more loyal inhabitants, taking possession of the town in the king's name. It seemed to the eyes of imagination an exploit worthy of a Barecolt; but reflection suggested to him various little objections, which made him abandon his scheme, though he did it with reluctance. The vision of becoming governor of Hull--a post which the king, he thought, could never refuse to grant him, if he took the city with his own right hand--was just fading away from his mind, when the outer door of the inn was thrown vehemently open, and some one entered the passage with a quick and agitated step. Captain Barecolt looked up, and gazed forth from Mrs. White's glass-case, at the same time laying his hand upon his sword, for he was full of desperate and sanguinary thoughts. In a moment, however, his countenance lighted up, and exclaiming, "Ah, Diggory Falgate! honest Diggory Falgate!--something may perhaps be done now--his knowledge of the place and the people may aid us at this pinch, and my hand shall execute what his information suggests"--he opened the door, and went out to meet the poor painter, extending his hand to him in friendly guise.
Diggory Falgate started back as if he had seen an apparition; but the next moment he grasped Barecolt's hand, and exclaimed--
"This is lucky indeed! Who would have thought to see you here, captain? But listen to me. I have got a story to tell you that will make your hair stand on end;--two, indeed, but one first, for that presses; and if something is not done immediately, the earl is a dead man!"
"What earl?" demanded Barecolt, in horror and consternation.
"Why, our earl, to be sure!" replied Falgate, walking on into Mrs. White'ssanctum sanctorum. "The Earl of Beverley, no other; and that Saracen of a colonel will have him shot to-morrow morning, as sure as I'm a living man, if something is not done to-night to prevent it!"
"I'll cut his throat first!" exclaimed Barecolt, half drawing his sword. "But he dare not--he dare not, Master Falgate. 'Tis all nonsense."
"He shot two men yesterday morning by the water-side," replied Falgate. "Didn't he, Mrs. White?"
The latter words were addressed to the worthy landlady, just as she returned with a fresh chopin; and while Captain Barecolt drained it down at one single indignant draught, she confirmed the poor painter's account, saying--
"Ay, that he did, the bloodthirsty brute! and better men than himself, too."
"What's to be done now?" asked Barecolt. "The only way will be to go and put him to death at once."
"You will only get yourself killed, and do no good," exclaimed the painter and landlady together; and then Falgate, proceeding alone, went on to add, "There is but one way to help the noble lord, captain, if we can but arrive at it, and that is, to get some one to tell Sir John Hotham himself. He'd never suffer all this to go on, if he knew it; and it is only since he fell ill the day before yesterday morning that his son dared to go on so."
"I'll write him a note," said Barecolt.
"Phoo! that will never do," replied the painter, "unless you can get some one to deliver it to Sir John himself."
"I am talking without guide, indeed," said the gallant captain, who began to feel that his nonsense was a little too gross even for the intellects of the landlady and the painter. "I do not yet know the whole circumstances. Pray, Master Falgate, have the goodness to relate all you know, and how you know it; and then I will decide upon my plan from the intelligence I receive. Be so good as to avoid superfluous particulars, and yet be sufficiently minute in your details to afford me a distinct knowledge of the facts."
Assuming a grave and sententious look of wisdom, he sat with his hands folded upon his knees, while Diggory Falgate went on to inform his auditors, that he had been arrested while entering the town three days before, and placed in the custody of a body of the train-bands, with some of whom he was personally acquainted and on very friendly terms. He had remained in terror of his life under their guard till that evening, receiving accounts from time to time of the wrath and fury which Colonel Hotham was exercising upon the unfortunate Cavaliers of the place, and employing all the interest he could make to obtain his own liberation. That afternoon he had been brought in, he said, not knowing whether the next word was to be life or death, when, to his surprise and grief, he beheld the earl in the presence of the governor's son. He then related all the particulars which he had witnessed, and a new consultation took place, which bade fair to have no end, when suddenly the worthy hostess exclaimed--
"Mr. O'Donnell's the man! He can do it. He can do it, I tell you, when no one else can."
"Do what?" exclaimed Captain Barecolt. "Prithee, my excellent lady, what can he do?"
"Why, get in to speak with Sir John Hotham," rejoined the worthy landlady, "and tell him all about it."
"Then, as I said before," exclaimed the renowned captain, "I will go to him this minute. Come along, Falgate--you shall go with me, for there's no time to be lost."
"That there isn't," replied Diggory Falgate. "I'm your man, captain."
And away they went, begging Mrs. White not to go to bed till they returned.
It was nearly dark when the renowned Captain Barecolt and Diggory Falgate issued forth into the streets of Hull, and silence, almost solitude, had fallen over the town, for the people of that good city were ever particularly attentive to the hour of supper, which was now approaching. Captain Barecolt then ventured to give his companion a familiar and patronizing slap on the shoulder, saying--
"Ah, Diggory Falgate I honest Diggory Falgate! I never thought to see thee again in the land of the living."
"I certainly thought," replied the painter, in a grave tone, "that I was on the high-road to the land of the dead. But it was not fair of you, captain, upon my life, to leave me outside in the hands of those men. Why, they talked of hanging me without benefit of clergy."
"Fair!" cried Barecolt, indignantly. "How could I help it, Diggory? Did I not work more wonders than a man to save all of the party? Did I not kill six Roundheads with my own hand? Did I not swim the moat, open the gates, fight in the front, protect the rear, kill the captain, disperse the troopers, and effect the retreat of my party with the loss of none but you, my poor old Diggory? What more could man do? You were but as a cannon, a falconer, a saker, which we were obliged to leave in the hands of the enemy; nor was it discovered for some time that you were not with us. When it was discovered, too, what did I do? Did I not issue forth, and, thinking that you might be lying covered with honourable wounds in some foul ditch by the roadside, did I not search for you for miles around the field of battle?"
"No! did you, though?" said Diggory Falgate. "Well, that was kind, captain."
"Nay, did I not pursue the search till after midnight?" continued Barecolt. "Ask Lord Walton; ask the noble earl. But now that I have found you, worthy Diggory, I would fain hear how you contrived to escape from the hands of the Philistines. You are not exactly a Samson, Diggory, and I should have thought they would have bound you with bands you could not break."
"Hush!" said the painter; "here is some one coming."
The person who approached was merely a labouring man, who had been detained somewhat late at his work, and he passed on without speaking; but the pause thus obtained in the conversation between Captain Barecolt and Diggory Falgate afforded the latter time for a little reflection. It had been his purpose to communicate to his companion the whole of his adventures, and what he had discovered in the church on the hill; but as he pondered on the matter this design was altered. A conviction had gradually impressed itself upon his mind, since first he had become acquainted with the grandiloquent Captain Barecolt, that the great warrior was in the habit of attributing to himself the actions and discoveries of others, or at all events of taking more than his due share of credit for anything in which he had part; and as Falgate seldom had had an opportunity of distinguishing himself in any way, except by painting strange faces, coats of arms, or wonderful beasts upon signboards, he wisely judged that it would be expedient not to let slip any part of the occasion which, as he thought, now presented itself.
When Captain Barecolt, therefore, returned to the charge, and required a detail of all his adventures, Falgate gave him such an account as was perfectly satisfactory to his interrogator, and which, moreover, had the advantage of being true, though that very important item in the Old Bailey oath, "the whole truth," was not exactly stated. He related how he had been carried off by the Roundhead party; how he had been questioned touching the gentleman with whom he had been lately consorting; how he had refused stoutly to answer, and had been threatened with death; how he had been shut up in the old church, and left there under a guard.
There, however, the minute exactitude of the painter's statement halted, and he merely added, that finding the door leading from the church into the vaults open, he had escaped by that means of exit; and, after hiding for some time in the neighbourhood, had heard that the troop which had taken him had been sent to Boston, upon which he ventured to return to Hull.
For his faithful discretion Captain Barecolt bestowed upon him high commendation, declared that some day he would be a great man if he would but learn to ride, and offered to be himself his instructor in that elegant art. By the time that the praises of the worthy officer came to an end, however, they were approaching the out-of-the-way spot at which the dwelling of Mr. O'Donnell was situated; but in attempting to approach the water-side they were turned back by a sentinel, who, on being asked how they were to get to the house they wanted to visit, replied, they must go to the back-door if it had one.
Luckily, Diggory Falgate was acquainted with the street in which that back-door was situated, and to it they accordingly went, pulled the ring of a bell, and produced the slow appearance of the tidy old woman whom Barecolt had seen before. In reply to his inquiries for Mr. O'Donnell, however, on this occasion, she asserted boldly that he was out; but the worthy captain, whose senses, as the reader knows, were generally on the alert, finished the sentence for her by saying--
"Out of tobacco, do you mean, madam? Good faith! if he smokes away at the rate he is now doing in the parlour, he may well consume a quintal in a short space. Go in, my good lady, and tell him that a gentleman is here who bears him news of old Sergeant Neil's grand-daughter."
The poor woman was confounded at the worthy captain's quickness; and, too well accustomed to the vapour of tobacco to smell it herself, could not divine how the visiter had discovered that her master was smoking in the parlour, unless he had looked through a crack in the window. Without more ado, then, she retreated, leaving the strangers in possession of the passage; and in a moment after Mr. O'Donnell's head was thrust out of a door at the farther end, taking a view of his two visiters.
"Oh, come in, come in!" he said at length, as he recognised Barecolt. "Whom have you got there with you? Come in----Ah, painter! is that you?"
Without replying to his various questions, Barecolt and Falgate walked on into his little room, which they found cloudy with smoke, while a huge jug, emitting the steam of hot water, kept company with a large black bottle, with the cork half out, which apparently contained a stronger fluid. O'Donnell shut the door carefully, and then at once began to interrogate Barecolt in regard to Arrah Neil, asking how she had fared on the journey, whether she had found Lord Walton and his sister, and where she actually was.
During the progress of these questions, which were put with great rapidity, Falgate sat silent, but noted attentively every word that was said, and marked the name of Lord Walton particularly in his memory, as apparently the chief friend of the young lady in whose escape he had assisted.
"She got off well, though it was through a hailstorm of dangers, Master O'Donnell," replied Barecolt, in a quick, hurried tone. "She has rejoined Lord Walton and his sister, and is now in Beverley. Ask no more questions at present; but listen, and you shall have further information concerning poor Arrah to-morrow, God willing. At present we have other things to think of--business of life and death, Master O'Donnell."
"Ah, devil fly away with it!" cried the Irishman; "that is always the way. Nothing but business of life and death now-a-days. A plain man can't drive a plain trade quietly without being teased about business of life and death. But I will have nothing to do with it, I tell you. I am a peaceable, well-disposed man, who hates secrets and abominates business of life and death. There, take some Geneva and water, if you will. It is better than all the business in the world. Run and get some drinking-cups, Master Painter."
Falgate, who seemed to have been in the house before, did as he was directed; and as soon as his back was turned O'Donnell demanded--
"What is this business? One cannot speak before your companion. He is a rattle-pated, silly fellow."
"But a very faithful one," answered Barecolt, doing the poor painter justice; "and he knows all about this affair already. But the matter is shortly this, my good friend!--A noble gentleman is here in Hull, having business with Sir John Hotham, and charged, moreover, by Lord Walton, to speak with you concerning Mistress Arrah Neil. He is my particular friend; and while he went on to the governor's house I went to the 'Swan,' requested by him to see you end fix a meeting for to-morrow morning. However, when he arrives at Sir John Hotham's, he finds no one but his son, Sir John being very ill----"
"Ah, by----! here's a pretty affair!" cried O'Donnell. "Very ill Sir John is not. He has got the gout in one foot and both hands, and is as cross as the yards of a ship; but his son takes all upon himself, and a base business he makes of it. What more? what more?"
"Why, the son causes this noble gentleman to be arrested immediately for a spy, tears his pass to pieces, will not let him see the governor, and threatens to shoot him to-morrow morning."
"And so he will, to be sure!" cried O'Donnell. "But what's to be done? How, in the fiend's name, can I help you? I'll not meddle with it--not a whit! I shall get shot some day myself if I don't mind."
As he was speaking, Diggory Falgate returned with two drinking-cups; and without waiting for Barecolt's reply, he tapped O'Donnell on the shoulder, saying--
"I'll tell you how you can help us, Master O'Donnell. Nothing so easy in life, and no danger to yourself either, though you are not a fellow to fear that if there were. All that is wanted is to let the governor know what is going on, and he'll soon stop the colonel's doings; for the pass which that wild beast tore was in his own handwriting; and it will be an eternal blot upon his honour--worse than a black bend sinister on the shield of his arms--if any harm happens to the earl after giving him that."
"The earl!" said O'Donnell. "Oh, ho! He is an earl, is he?"
"What have you said, you fool?" cried Barecolt, turning angrily upon Falgate; but the painter, though he turned somewhat red, put the best face he could upon it, saying--
"Well, it's a slip of the tongue, captain; but it can't be helped, and you know you can trust him."
"Ay, ay! trust me, sure enough," answered the Irishman. "But how am I to do anything in this?" and leaning his head upon his hand, he mused, while Barecolt mixed himself some Geneva and hot water, not particularly potent of the latter; and Falgate stood gazing at the master of the house, as if waiting for him to speak further.
"I'll tell you what you can do, Master O'Donnell," said the painter at length, laying his hand upon the other's arm; "you can put on your hat and cloak, go down to Sir John Hotham, and ask to speak with him for a moment about his gout. We know he will see you, for Mrs. White told us all about it."
"And if you have a snug little bottle of cordial waters under your arm, you are sure to get in," added Barecolt. "Come, come, Master O'Donnell; do not hesitate. There is no time to be lost."
"On my life, that's a pretty joker!" cried O'Donnell, starting up: "that I am to go and put my neck in peril for a man I never saw in my life. I tell you, I'll have nothing to do with it. It's a bad case; and if they shoot him, they must."
In vain, to all appearance, were the eloquence of Barecolt and the arguments of the painter. The best they could obtain from O'Donnell was a vague and unsatisfactory reply, that he would go on the morrow, or that he would see about it. He asked, nevertheless, a number of questions, as if he felt some interest in the affair, which for nearly half-an-hour had the effect of inducing his two visiters to believe that their entreaties would ultimately prove effectual; but at length he suddenly turned the conversation to another subject, and once more inquired of Arrah Neil; and Barecolt, rising, wished him good-night in a sullen and disappointed tone, saying that, as he would have no hand in it, some one else must be found who would undertake the task which he declined.
As soon as the mighty captain issued forth into the street, however, he burst into a laugh, much to Falgate's surprise. But Barecolt laughed again, saying, "He will do it, Master Falgate! He will do it, take my word for it. He is a cunning old chap, that Master O'Donnell, and he will not let us know what he is going to do; but he'll go."
"I don't think it, Captain Barecolt; I don't think it," replied Falgate, sadly; "and we cannot trust the good earl's safety to such a chance."
"I don't intend to trust to any chance at all, Diggory Falgate," answered Barecolt, in one of his supreme tones. "You do not suppose an officer of my experience will rest satisfied without clear knowledge of what he is about? Draw back with me, Master Falgate. Go you under the shadow of that entry, where you can see his door in front. I will post myself by that penthouse, where I command both streets. He cannot escape us then, and we will give him twenty minutes. But if he comes forth, say not a word, move not a finger; rest as quiet as one of the door nails till he has gone on, and then come and join me."
Not five of the twenty minutes which Captain Barecolt had allowed for the issuing forth of Mr. O'Donnell had elapsed when the door of his house opened, and a tall figure appeared, which, turning back its head, said aloud, "Turn the lock, Dorothy," and then took its way up the street, without observing either of the two watchers.
Diggory Falgate was soon by Barecolt's side, and they followed together upon the steps of the worthy Irishman, till they saw him approach the governor's house and enter the court; after which they again ensconced themselves under a gateway, in order to obtain the means of judging, by the duration of O'Donnell's stay, whether he was admitted to the presence of Sir John Hotham or not. Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, half-an-hour passed, and, O'Donnell not having appeared when the clock struck ten, Barecolt and his companion, satisfied that their end was so far accomplished, made the best of their way back to the "Swan." The cautious captain, however, to make assurance doubly sure, directed Falgate to proceed once more to the merchant's house at break of day, and to question him closely in regard to the result of his visit; after which, having communicated to Mrs. White what success they had achieved, and received her opinion that Master O'Donnell would leave no stone unturned to effect their object, they sat down to a good supper, which she had prepared for them in the room where Mr. Dry had dined with Arrah Neil, and enjoyed themselves for half-an-hour.
At the end of that time, Falgate, pronouncing himself tired, left Captain Barecolt with the flagon (which he did not propose to quit for another hour), and retired, taking care to close the door after him. His course, however, did not lie straight to bed; for, finding the worthy landlady locking up her spoons and ladles in her little parlour, he joined her there, and entered into conversation with her in a low and confidential tone. Their conference lasted a considerable time, and was carried on apparently with some reluctance by Mrs. White at first, but gradually became animated on her part also; and at length, when Falgate asked her, "You are quite sure she was buried there, and that what I tell you was on her coffin?"
"I'll take my oath of it," she replied; "I'll give it under my hand if you like."
"I wish you would, Mrs. White," answered the painter; and, receiving her promise that it should be done on the following day, he retired to bed.
Before we close this somewhat long chapter, it may be necessary to trace to a certain point the proceedings of our worthy friend O'Donnell; but we will do so very briefly. Having passed the sentinel in the court of the governor's house, he approached a small door at the side and knocked for admission. A servant appeared almost immediately; but, far from asking directly to speak with Sir John Hotham, he said, "Ah, Master Wilson! is Oliver within? I want a chat with him."
"Walk in, Master O'Donnell," replied the man, "and I will seek for him. He was with Sir John a moment ago."
O'Donnell wasted no more words, but entered in silence, and after having been kept for a minute or two in the dark passage, he was joined by Oliver, the governor's body-servant, as he was called, with a light. The two shook hands with great good-will, and Master Oliver drew his Irish friend into a little room on the left, where immediately O'Donnell produced two large, flat-sided, long-necked bottles from under his cloak, and setting one down on the table he said, "That's for you, Noll, and this is some gout-cordial for the governor, which will soon send all his ailments away."
"God grant it!" replied the man, "for he is in a devil of a humour. Shall I take it to him, Master O'Donnell? Many thanks for the good stuff!"
"Welcome, welcome!" replied his companion: "but you must get me speech of Sir John this very night, for I have got a dozen bottles of cinnamon, such as you never tasted in your days, and a gentleman in the town wants them. So I promised to give him an answer before I went to bed, but thought it only dutiful to talk to the governor about them first, in case he should like any."
"Ah! he'll talk about that," replied the servant, "though he won't talk of anything else. Come up with me to his door, and we'll soon see if he'll speak with you. Bring your bottle with you. That's as good as a pass."
"Better sometimes," replied O'Donnell, drily; and following the servant up-stairs and into the better part of the house, he was kept for a moment or two in the corridor, and then admitted into the presence of Sir John Hotham.