CHAPTER VIIIRobin Hood's LairContrary to Mr. Field's expectations, this was not by any means Ben's last visit to him. Sometimes he would be absent from the village for a week at a time, but on his return no long period would elapse before he presented himself again at Farncourt, and to the surprise of the household, never failed to gain admittance to their master's presence."Oh, I knew him in past days," was Ben's reply in answer to the many questions which were addressed to him. "Why shouldn't a fellow sometimes go up to have a chat with an old friend?""It's plain enough those conversations don't agree with him then," was the universal opinion. "He's getting so jumpy and nervous, not half the man he was a little while ago."There was certainly something wrong with the Silver King. His double chin was fast disappearing, and his waistcoat hung in loose folds, instead of presenting the smooth expanse which had formerly been the wearer's pride. His temper also did not improve as time went on, but became shorter and shorter, until at last even his own son grew afraid of him, and gave him as little of his company as was possible."If only I had a better clue I'd drive the nail in harder," said Ben to himself after one of his periodical absences, "as it is, however, I'm apparently on the right tack, and if only I can get him to commit himself a little further by letting out something more definite when he's speaking to me, I may be able to bring him altogether to his knees. I could of course make more public enquiries, but unfortunately I've not got quite a clean sheet myself, and I might perhaps find that I'd made it hot for Number One as well as for Mr. Thomas Algernon Field. Besides, I shall probably squeeze a good deal more out of him by working this little affair on my own hook than by letting someone else poach on my preserves. Whatever it is that he's done, he's in a blue funk over it, and would give anything to hush the matter up. I must just go cautiously to work, and in the meanwhile it's extremely convenient to have such a handy bank to draw on whenever I choose."Ben jingled some money between his fingers as he spoke, with evident satisfaction, and puffed complacently at his cigar."I wonder why he was in such a hurry to get me to sign the document that night," he mused. "If I hadn't been half-seas over I'd have looked at it closer, but as it is I haven't a notion what it was about, though I remember well the colour of the paper, and the burnt penholder. He hints darkly that I have let myself in for something that I'd be sorry for once I was found out, but I can't help thinking that in that case he would be in a worse position than me. Anyhow, if we're both in the same boat it won't be to my advantage if I sink the craft by peaching to the world. I'd better go on as I'm doing for the present and reap the harvest I'm enjoying in consequence of his fears. I think I'll walk up to Farncourt now, and give another twist to the screw. My last week in town was a roaring one, and the sovereigns flew. It's fine fun to live like a millionaire every now and then."There's one other thing I can't understand," he added, as he wended his way to the house of his victim. "Why did he look so pleased that same night when he found the letter in old Wattie's coat as it was hanging on the wall? He didn't know I was peeping at him when he took it out and slipped it into his own pocket. I know it was only a few lines the boss had written to his daughter, for he'd read it over to me that very afternoon, and I was to post it when I went off next day. It surely couldn't have had anything to do with the paper I signed? I wish I had asked about it at the time."As he passed the lodge gates he met Julius hastening to the village.The voice of conscience, awakened in the boy's heart by the terrors of the hours of darkness and the loneliness, had been stilled and silenced when the morning light arose, and having once overstepped the bounds of truth and obedience, it was easy to continue along the path of wrong.Two months had passed since that Sunday's talk. The new tutor from Oxford had come and gone, peremptorily ordered out of the house by Mr. Field, who could not brook the superior intellect and independent manner of the young graduate. Thus the lad was left once more to his own devices, and few were the days when he found it impossible to arrange a meeting with his friend at Sea View Cottage. He had almost ceased to look upon his disobedience as a sin, his only fear being that his father would find him out at last.This morning he found Robin in a great state of excitement, brimful of new ideas and plans. To the unimaginative Julius these continual surprises were an unmixed delight. He never knew what new rôle he would be expected to take up as he joined his comrade in his play. Sometimes it was a knight in armour, going to rescue a captive princess, represented perhaps by old Mother Sheppard or Mrs. Power. These, being supposed to be under the spell of a magician, were naturally unwilling to accompany their youthful deliverers to the shore. Sometimes he had to represent a character in a favourite tale, but more often it was Robin's history lesson which afforded the framework for some entrancing game."I'm so glad you've come, Julius," was the welcoming cry now as he appeared at the door, "but what a pity your coat is grey. It's fortunate my old jersey is green, for if I pull it down as low as I can, it almost covers my knickers, and no one would naturally look at them first.""Why shouldn't my coat be grey?" questioned Julius. "It's a very good colour.""Because it should begreen--Lincoln green," exclaimed Robin. "They all had it. It was their sort of badge.""What badge?" asked Julius, altogether puzzled by the reply."Oh, I forgot you hadn't heard," was Robin's rejoinder. "I've been reading to-day in my history-book about Robin Hood. He was an outlaw--a splendid one--who lived in the woods, and he and his followers were always dressed in green, and had bows and arrows and hunted the king's deer. I'll be Robin Hood, because of course it's my name, and will you be one of my merry men, Julius?""I don't think an outlaw is a nice kind of man," was the reply. "They were generally hanged, weren't they?""Robin Hood was agoodoutlaw," responded Robin earnestly. "He used to do all sorts of kind things to the poor, and they loved him and would never tell where he was hid.""My coat has a greenish lining," remarked Julius. "Do you think if I turned it inside out that it would do?""Perhaps it would," answered Robin doubtfully. "I'll ask mother to lend you her green scarf to tie round your waist, and we'll pretend it's all that colour."This weighty matter arranged, the two boys sallied forth to the little wood which lay at the back of the cottage."The first thing to do is to find a cave, or some place to sleep in," was the leader's order, "and then we'll have a look at the king's deer.""I'm sure there aren't any deer here," remarked Julius, "and if there were, we'd get into a jolly row if we killed them.""There are lots of rabbits, and they'll do just as well," replied Robin cheerfully. "Of course we won't kill them really, we'll only make-believe they are dead."It was not long before an ideal site was found for the hiding-place of the merry men.A high bank had been dug into long ago to obtain gravel, leaving a hollow of about six feet square. Young saplings and briars had sprung up all around making an arch of green above the level floor. Robin gave a shout of triumph when he discovered the spot."If we can drag some branches here to make a roof, it will be just like a real house," he said. "We might make a wall in front with these stones which are lying about, and only leave one little hole for the door, so that it will be nice and warm inside, and nobody will be able to see us, even if they pass quite near."It took longer than he had calculated to carry out the grand idea--indeed for a whole week the king's deer were permitted to go unmolested, Robin Hood and his follower being too busily engaged in building operations to turn their thoughts to the chase.It was a proud day when Mrs. Power was invited to inspect the result of the boys' labours. True, the wall was of such an unstable nature that their guest had to be well warned not to lean even her hand against it, in case it should fall. What did it matter that the stone part of it only attained to about the height of Robin's elbow? The rest of it was satisfactorily completed by a dilapidated wooden gate perched on the top, and interwoven with fern and twigs, so as to form an impenetrable screen from the outer world. An old rug had been suspended by its corners across the top of the pit, making a grand roof when supplemented by branches laid in thick layers above. Moss had been laboriously collected from all parts of the wood wherewith to cover the floor, and ferns were ingeniously planted in crannies in the sandy walls to make it look more natural, Julius said.It was a glorious moment when the kettle at length boiled upon the camp-fire kindled at the entrance, and still more delightful when Mrs. Power and the two boys all squeezed inside the hut to enjoy smoked tea in enamelled mugs, and regale themselves with ginger biscuits and toffee."You told us to get what we liked with the sixpence, mother," explained Robin, "so Julius chose the toffee, and I took the biscuits.""It is hardly what I should have selected myself," answered Mrs. Power, "but if it's what you like, I'm more than satisfied.""What do you think we ought to call the house?" asked Julius. "Robin says 'The Outlaw's Castle' would be a good name, but I think it's a very silly one, as we've no battlements or dungeons, not even a drawbridge.""Julius wanted to call it 'Farncourt Arbour,'" said Robin contemptuously, "which would be simply awful.""What do you say to 'Robin Hood's Lair'?" suggested Mrs. Power. "I believe that was really the name of one of his retreats.""It's better than 'Farncourt Arbour,'" responded Robin. "Let us call it that.""I wish we had a cupboard for the mugs and the kettle," remarked Julius, "but perhaps the tramps might find them and take them away. It does seem a pity we can't sleep here, for I'm sure not a drop of rain would come through the roof.""There is just one thing I shall bring to leave here always," said Robin, "and that's the text I painted the first Sunday Julius was with us. If you will lend me two of your long hat-pins, mother, I shall stick it up on that smooth piece of the wall, so that if anyone did happen to come in he would see it at once. It will make the inside of the house quite bright and cheerful and much more home-like. And you know, mother," he added shyly, "the words might do a poor tramp good."CHAPTER IXThe Tramp"Julius," said Robin in an awestruck voice a few days later, when they met as usual at the entrance of the wood, "I do believe the tramp has really come. You said you would be here at ten o'clock punctually, but I waited and waited and you never turned up, so I thought you had forgotten all about it and that I had better go on to the hut by myself. When I had got quite close up to it I saw a boot sticking out of the door, and it gave me such a fright, I simply scooted back into the road again. I was jolly glad to see you coming along, I can tell you.""I thought you wanted a tramp to come," said Julius rather scornfully. "The best thing we can do is to tell the policeman, and he'll send the fellow about his business pretty quick. I call it cheek for a nasty dirty beggar to go and rest in our nice house.""It looked quite a good boot," replied Robin, "not all over holes like some of them have. Perhaps he's only a poor clean wanderer who wouldn't do any harm.""Let us have another look," said Julius. "We needn't go very near."With much care and precaution the boys crept silently through the undergrowth until they came in sight of Robin Hood's Lair, taking the greatest pains to avoid treading on dead sticks or twigs, after the manner of Red Indians tracking their prey."There are two boots now," said Robin under his breath, "and they're quite tidy, both of them. Perhaps he's not a tramp after all."As he spoke, there was a movement inside the hut, and a man emerged into the open. The youthful spies crouched low among the bracken to watch the intruder.He was a tall, well-knit figure, but with a droop in his shoulders which told of ill-health and fatigue. His face bore out the same story, for it was white and drawn as if with long suffering, and his somewhat weather-worn clothes only emphasized the frailty of the form beneath. His cap was off, and the sun glinted down upon his fair hair and short well-trimmed beard, revealing a shapely head and thoughtful brow."He's the nicest tramp I ever saw," remarked Julius, "but he looks awfully ill.""I don't believe he's a beggar," rejoined Robin. "I expect he's just someone come to stay at the village so as to get sea-air after having been in a hospital. They often do that. He must be very poor, however, for though he seems quite respectable, his coat is all patched and frayed."The intruder had turned and was contemplating the architecture of the hut with an amused countenance. He now replaced his cap and walked away in an irresolute manner, as if he did not know exactly in which direction to bend his steps. To the boys' dismay he finally bore down straight towards their hiding-place."Keep still, Julius," whispered Robin. "That's the way wild animals do when danger is near. If we run, we're sure to be seen."Alas for his hopes! Wild animals do not usually wear clean white collars, and in this instance two snowy spots gleamed clearly and distinctly through the thick screen of fern. In another moment Robin felt his arm suddenly seized, and glanced hastily up into the face that bent above him, anxious to read his fate.It was a reassuring sight, for the blue eyes that looked down upon him were full of sparkle, and a merry smile was stealing round the corners of the mouth."I'm afraid I've been trespassing," was his captor's remark, as he held the boy with a firm but gentle grip, "and worse than trespassing--actually taking possession of a man's house during his absence and making use of it as if it were my own."Julius had bolted like a hare at the sight of his comrade's capture, but seeing that a friendly conference was evidently taking place, he gradually drew nearer to hear what was being said, being very careful, nevertheless, to keep well out of harm's way."I'm glad you used our house, sir," answered Robin, gaining confidence by the kindly tone. "I hope you found it comfortable.""Most luxurious," responded the stranger. "Indeed I must confess to having spent most of the night there. I fell asleep yesterday evening on that delicious carpet of moss, and when I at last awoke it was actually morning and broad daylight.""Were you really there all night?" exclaimed Robin delightedly, "just as if it was a proper house! I rather wish it had rained a little though.""I'm very glad it didn't," was the reply. "I hardly think that is a charitable desire of yours!""I only mean that it would have been so jolly to hear the rain outside, and yet to know you had such a good roof over your head that it couldn't get through," explained Robin."I am glad to learn that you had no worse motive than that for your wish," laughed the stranger. "Now, my little chap, can you tell me which direction I must take to get to the high-road, as I haven't had my breakfast yet and I'm growing hungrier every moment. I don't want to go back to the village, but to strike out for the next hamlet, as I'm tramping to London and don't want to spend more time than I can help upon the way.""Youarea tramp, then?" exclaimed Julius, who was now standing near, "even though you haven't got holes in your boots.""Well, I suppose I am," was the reply. "Perhaps it would sound better if you said I was on a walking tour. It comes to much the same thing.""I thought you were a poor man just arrived at Sunbury to get sea-air after you had been ill," remarked Robin. "You looked so frightfully thin.""A regular scarecrow!" said the stranger. "I congratulate you as well as your friend on being right in your guesses. Iama poor man and Ihavebeen ill, and I certainly had hoped to stay in Sunbury for a few days to try and get up my strength a little; but I heard something at the Bull Inn yesterday afternoon on my arrival which made me change my mind and resolve to move on. I mustn't waste time talking, though, for I'm getting quite faint for want of food, and must ask the next good woman I meet to make me a cup of tea in her kitchen."His looks certainly corroborated his statement, for a deadly pallor had overspread his countenance and he almost fell as he staggered up against a tree."I'm weaker than I thought," he murmured. "I wish I had gone on last night instead of stopping here.""If you will wait a minute," said Robin eagerly, "I'll fetch you a glass of milk and some biscuits. Mother always gives them to me for my lunch, but I'd much rather you had them than me.""It's too bad to rob you of your lunch, my boy," was the grateful answer, "but really I should be very glad of a bite. It would just help me to get along. By the way," he called out as Robin was darting off, "could you manage to bring the refreshments without letting everyone know I'm here? I have particular reasons for asking. I'll tell you why when you come back.""It will be quite easy," asseverated Robin. "I often eat my lunch in the wood, so nobody will think it funny if I carry it away."Julius considered it wiser to accompany the messenger rather than remain with the man, and many were the conjectures of the two boys as they went together upon their quest."I think he is in hiding from someone," said Robin, "and is afraid to risk going into the village in case he is taken prisoner. I wish he was a cavalier on some secret errand from the king. How splendid it would be to help him in some glorious adventure like one reads about in books!""He's much more likely to be a fugitive from justice," replied the more matter-of-fact Julius. "It's rather queer of him sleeping in Robin Hood's Lair all night, and not wanting to go to Sunbury again. I've half a mind to tell father about him and get him to send one of the game-keepers round.""If you betray him I'll never play with you again! Never!" exclaimed Robin indignantly. "It would be mean after he's trusted us like this. I wouldn't have a traitor for my friend for anything, and that's what you would be if you told!"When the pair returned to the house in the wood with a plentiful supply of the promised food, they found the stranger almost in a state of collapse.With the greatest difficulty they got him to swallow a little milk, which revived him somewhat, so that with their assistance he was able at length to regain the shelter of the hut."I'll be all right soon," he said to them. "It's only my silly old heart. I've let myself run down rather too much, that's all."To the boys' relief, in about twenty minutes he was able to sit up, and partake sparingly of their provisions."I'm afraid I must ask you to let me lodge another night in your mansion," he said. "I don't think my legs would carry me far to-day.""Why don't you go to 'The Bull'?" asked Julius. "You'd be much more comfortable in a bed. I know there is lots of room now, for the season is over, and all the visitors have gone.""It was my intention to stay there when I came to Sunbury," was the answer, "but I heard that somebody was now living in the neighbourhood whom I would rather not meet again, and therefore as I did not wish him to recognize me I thought it best to go away. I tried to take a short cut through the wood which I remembered of old, but happening to come across your little hut, it looked so inviting that I just stumbled in and went to sleep. I never woke till you found me this morning.""We must go home to dinner now," remarked Robin, "and Julius won't be able to come again, as he's got to go out with his father this afternoon, but I'll look in later and see if I can bring you some more food.""Keep my secret, then, like good boys," said the stranger. "I won't harm anybody or anything, and I shall be off to-morrow by the break of day, and not trouble either of you any more."Many a time it was on the tip of Julius' tongue to let fall some remark about their strange guest, but the fear of losing Robin's fellowship held him back. It is not nice to be called a "traitor," and the flash in his friend's eyes when he said the word lingered unpleasantly in Julius' memory. There was also the ever-haunting terror that his father would discover the deception which he so consistently practised in utter disregard to the parental commands. It was no feeling of honour that checked the sentences as they rose to his lips, but dread of the consequences which might perchance recoil upon himself."I'm going to read to old Timothy this evening," said Mrs. Power to her little son, "and may be out rather late, as I shall stop at the Vicarage on my way back. You can take your supper when you like, as I shall not be home in time to give it to you."Never before or after was Robin known to have such an abnormal appetite. Fully half the loaf and the whole of the butter vanished as if by magic from the table. He surprised Mother Sheppard also by a polite request for cheese, and to her astonishment the whole piece was finished when she came to clear away after Robin had left the room."If that boy doesn't burst with the supper he's took to-night, my name's not Jemima Ann," she exclaimed, "and every drop of the milk gone as I heated specially, expecting as there would be a good cupful left for me when he'd done. I'm blessed if the boy don't seem to have swallowed the jug too. Anyhow it's disappeared as well as the milk."Robin in the meanwhile was curled up contentedly in a corner of the hut, watching its inmate ravenously devour the supplies which he had so successfully secured. A thick rug had also been obtained by the boy and carried up in triumph to the Lair. The ground was still dry after an exceptionally long hot summer, and the little bower certainly made an excellent shelter with its firm sandy walls and mossy floor. Many another wayfarer has been less comfortably lodged."I don't think you can be a wicked man," remarked Robin, after a careful scrutiny of the worn face before him, "but I wonder why you are so anxious not to meet the other fellow you told us of. Perhaps it's he who is the bad one, and not you.""No," answered the stranger, with a sad attempt at a smile which went to Robin's heart. "I'm sorry to say that I'm the bad one, as you put it, but I am thankful I needn't stop there. The sinner has been forgiven by the grace of God, though the consequences of his sin on earth cannot be rubbed out.""Then you're not afraid of that?" said Robin, nodding his head towards the text on the wall."I rejoice because of it," was the reply. "He Who knows all can forgive all."The blue eyes gazed out into the tangle of wood, where the sun was setting behind the interwoven branches, brown now with the touch of coming whiter."A great sinner needs a great Saviour," he murmured half to himself. "Perhaps He can even help me to put right some of the wrong before the end comes."CHAPTER XA Flash of LightningWhen Robin awoke next morning he found that the weather had completely changed during the night. Gusts of wind howled round the little cottage and rattled the casement, as if angry foes sought admittance to his room. From his bed he could hear the hollow boom of the waves upon the shore, and the old apple-tree outside his window creaked and groaned as it was forced to bend its aged limbs before the gale.His first thought was of the house in the wood and its mysterious occupant."I'll run up at once and see how the man has got on," he decided. "I don't think it looks as if it had rained yet, and it's pretty sheltered in the coppice, so I hope he has had a good night. I wonder if he is still there, or if he went at break of day as he said he would."It was not long before he was peeping through the doorway of the little hut, his hair blown like an aureole about his forehead and his cheeks flushed by the buffeting of the wind."Of such is the kingdom of heaven," were the words that rose spontaneously to the stranger's lips as he glanced up at the fair vision before him."I'm not gone yet, Robin," he said as he held out his hand to the boy. "I am afraid I must ask you to put up with me for a few hours longer. I didn't feel quite up to an early start this morning."Robin flew to his side and took the thin fingers in his."Of course you may stay here as long as you like," he replied. "I'm only afraid there's a storm coming on, and if it's very bad the roof might perhaps let in a little rain, supposing, you know, it came down in torrents."The stranger smiled. "It's worth feeling ill to get another glimpse of you, my boy," he said. "I must confess that the longing for it rather weighed with me when I debated about my departure in the early dawn. I shall have to start soon, however, so as to be sure to catch the evening train to London, as it is hopeless to think of getting there on foot after this attack. It is six miles to the station, isn't it, Robin?""Six and a quarter," answered the lad, "and there are two hills on the way.""I shall be lucky if I arrive there before midnight," was the reply, "but I'll have a try, anyhow. Meanwhile, I've still got some of the bread and butter you brought me last night, and a little milk in the bottom of the jug, so I shall do very well. Don't you bother about me, little chap. I'm used to roughing it a bit.""I will bring you my lunch again at eleven o'clock," said Robin, "but I do wish you would let me tell mother about you, as she would know so much better than I do what you ought to have. I promise you, honour bright, that I wouldn't tell anyone else.""Not even mother," answered the stranger, "though I am sure she must be a true and good woman who owns you as her son. God bless you both--if a prayer from such as I can bring you a benediction."He watched the boy disappear among the trees, and then, turning over with his face to the earth, he groaned aloud."Oh, my God!" he exclaimed. "What might not have been! Truly the way of transgressors is hard."There were traces of tears in his eyes when he at length rose and proceeded languidly to finish the provisions lying beside him."Julius, I want you to come with me to Westmarket to-day," said Mr. Field as he sat at the breakfast-table that morning. "Be ready at eleven o'clock sharp. A grand bazaar is being held there in aid of the Town Hall, and no end of swells are to be present. The Countess of Monfort is taking a great interest in the cause, and I must certainly put in an appearance, or they might think it rude. Money is not a bad thing, after all, and I have no doubt they will be glad enough to see me, even though neither her ladyship nor the earl have taken the trouble to return my call.""I don't want to go," was the sulky reply. "I hate bazaars, and swells, and countesses, and it's beastly rot driving in the motor, with nothing to do but to sit still.""Don't let me hear you speak like that again, Julius," said his father sternly. "Those are my orders and it is your part to obey.""Couldn't you go a little later?" pleaded the boy. "Eleven o'clock is so very early."It certainly was a little hard upon him, for he had set his heart on going down to the wood immediately after breakfast. The tramp, as he still called him, fascinated the lad strangely and he longed to find out more about the lonely stranger."The countess herself opens the bazaar at noon," replied his father, "and we shall need all our time to get there before the ceremony. So not a moment later shall I start. If you are not standing on the doorstep waiting for me, it will be the worse for you."As Mr. Field left the apartment, Julius stamped his foot in impotent anger."It's too bad!" he exclaimed. "Why should I have to dress up like a doll in my best clothes, and waste the day like that, when Robin is allowed to run about in the wood just as he likes. I wonder if there would be time for me to slip down before I have to get ready for the car. There is just an hour. If I ran all the way I think I could do it. I should like to see if the man is still there."Eleven o'clock came, and the motor was at the door. So was Mr. Field, but no Julius. For five minutes there was ominous silence, as butler and chauffeur stood motionless, awaiting their master's pleasure."Drive on," said Mr. Field at length, as he flung himself into the car, and the look on his face was not agreeable as he passed out of sight."I'm sorry for the little fellow, even though he is such a spoilt puppy," volunteered the footman who had come in Jenkins' place. "I expect he'll catch it hot before the day is out."It was difficult for Mr. Field to regain his composure before he arrived at the end of the drive. To be openly defied by his son in the presence of his servants was an offence not to be lightly passed over. The unctuous smile which illumined his features was forced and unnatural as he officiously went up to the countess to congratulate her on the success of her undertaking."What an impossible man he is," she remarked later to a friend. "He seems to have 'money' written all over him, and nothing else apparently to recommend him to the world. I really am honestly grateful to him for the way he is showering sovereigns about, but it doesn't make me any more anxious to have him as my next-door neighbour. I shouldn't mind his being uneducated or plain, some of the best of nature's gentlemen are that--it's the pretentious vulgarity of the man I can't stand."Mr. Field fared no better with the earl. A few cold words of welcome in response to the effusive greeting bestowed upon him by the millionaire, and Lord Monfort turned away to escort a new-comer to his wife's stall. It was pleasant, however, to feel that in spite of it all, he was undoubtedly considered a person of importance at the sale. Fair ladies crowded round to persuade him to buy absolutely useless things at utterly exorbitant prices, and his circuit of the hall was a sort of triumphal progress, delightful while it lasted, but leaving him somewhat exhausted at the close.He had other business in Westmarket besides his social duties, which detained him there some hours, but he returned to the bazaar to have a cup of tea before leaving the town. He was resting comfortably in the refreshment marquee, enjoying the band, when a sudden drop in the music caused the voice of someone sitting at a distant table to resound distinctly across the room. Mr. Field would not have noticed his companions, had he not happened to look up hastily and so caught the eye of a young man, one of the group, who was facing him. He recognized him as the countess's nephew, and saw him give a quick sign to his friend to cease speaking, but not before a few isolated remarks had reached the listener's ear. He could not follow the whole sentence, but he was sure he heard the name of Judge Simmons mentioned in connection with a certain money affair. There was no doubt about the concluding words--"distinctly shady"--for the band stopped suddenly as they were uttered, and there was nothing to veil the unpleasant insinuation of the phrase."What possible reason could that young fellow have had in checking his companion when he saw me, unless it was because I was the subject of their conversation, and they did not want me to hear?" So he mused as he absently stirred his tea.The band struck up once more, but to Mr. Field the music this time sounded intolerably harsh and grating. The jingle of the tune set his teeth on edge, and he felt he could endure it no longer. It was a relief when the crowded hall was left behind, and he felt the cool air again upon his brow.It was nearly four o'clock now and the day was closing in. Heavy clouds were massed over the sea, looking black and thundery, and the dust blew in fitful eddies around."I think we're driving into a storm, sir," said the chauffeur.The simple words jarred strangely on Mr. Field."Don't speak till you're spoken to," he snapped. "What you have got to do is to attend to your business and not make remarks about the weather."At that moment the motor reached a steep part of the last hill, necessitating dropping into a lower gear. The chauffeur, irritated by the uncourteous taunt, plied pedal and lever with quite uncalled-for vehemence. There was a harsh grinding sound and the car stopped with a sudden jerk."It's no use, sir," he said, after a few moments tinkering at the machinery. "The gears are jambed and she won't move an inch. I'm afraid I'll have to get her towed home.""Not here a fortnight, and you've broken the car already," exclaimed Mr. Field, his fury rising to boiling-point as he realized that he should have to yield to the inevitable and walk ignominiously back to Farncourt. "I give you warning on the spot, and no character; so you may leave when you choose."Discarding his fur coat as too heavy, he turned his back on the damaged vehicle and set out upon the way home."Driving into a storm!" he repeated to himself as he plodded along the road. "I only hope not. If I was superstitious I should call it a horribly bad omen. Curious how nervous I feel to-day! It surely must be something in the air. But bad gales have been weathered before now, and I think I'm pretty safe, considering all things. I confess it was a nasty shock when Ben Green first turned up, but he evidently knows very little, or he would have had me in a hole long ago. There is no one else I need fear. I fancied Simmons had a queer look in his eye that day I saw him at the Abbey, but he's powerless to do any real harm. Even if he raked up unpleasant questions about the papers, not a soul was witness of what led up to it all. That is a secret known to no one in the wide world but myself. The past is too deeply buried by this time for any spectres to rise from the grave now."As he spoke, a peal of thunder reverberated forth, so unexpectedly that it caused him to give an involuntary start."I shall take the short cut through the wood," he said, "and I must be quick about it, for it's looking rather bad all round."The sky was becoming more and more threatening every moment, and darkness seemed to descend almost at once upon the land. Mr. Field shivered as the air grew chill, and regretted the warm garment he had left behind in the car."I'm feeling out of sorts," he added. "Those silly remarks at the bazaar upset me a good deal, though there is really no need for me to mind. I wish, however, I hadn't come by the wood, especially as I seem to have lost the right path, and wandered rather out of my way. It is eerie all by myself in the gloom, with such a tempest brewing too. Bother! There's the rain!" he exclaimed, as two or three big drops splashed against his face.A flash of lightning lit up the sky, revealing to his anxious gaze the rough hut which the boys had constructed with so much care, and which stood only a few paces from the narrow track."A woodman's shed, I suppose," he said. "I may as well take refuge inside, for it looks as if there was going to be a regular deluge."He was right. Down came the rain, pattering loudly on the crisp autumn leaves, first with a sort of measured beat, then more rapidly, as if driven fiercely by an ever-compelling force from behind. Suddenly with a mighty rush, it seemed as though the cloud had burst overhead, and hissing torrents poured in straight unbroken lines from the clouds.The little house was empty, and Mr. Field stood looking out of the door, while the lightning played about the tops of the trees, illuminating the depths of the dark copse as with the brightness of day. His was not a brave nature at the best, and the scene was terrific enough to strike awe into the heart of a bolder man than he claimed to be. He withdrew further into the shed, as the thunder continued to roll above him in long deafening crashes."Who is it says that thunder is the voice of the Almighty?" he muttered. "It is in the Bible, I believe. It sounds awful enough for anything."Just then a flash of more than usually vivid character lit up the interior of the shelter, and to Mr. Field's consternation, words of fire appeared to blaze out before his eyes. For a moment, to his excited imagination it seemed like the writing on the wall at Belshazzar's feast. Could this be the Hand as well as the Voice of God?It was the text which Robin had pinned up inside the hut--"THE EYES OF THE LORD ARE IN EVERY PLACE, BEHOLDING THE EVIL AND THE GOOD."It came like a message from an unseen Power, an answer to the thoughts which had so lately filled his mind, and the words burnt into his very soul."In every place--in every place. Beholding the evil--beholding the evil."The sentence echoed through his brain until he could bear it no longer."Will that verse never cease to haunt me?" he exclaimed. "Is there truly a Witness in Heaven Who sees all--all--and Who can, when He wills, bring even our hidden sins into the light?"He made as though he would leave the hut, when suddenly to his horrified gaze, a second flash revealed a pale emaciated face peering in through the door.With a loud cry, Mr. Field rushed at the opening, and with superhuman strength hurled the apparition from him as he dashed past.A dark form fell heavily into the bushes, but he stayed not to see. Scrambling, falling in the inky blackness, he at last gained the edge of the wood--how, he never knew. Drenched to the skin and with his eyes staring wildly before him, he reached his home. Speechless and trembling, he passed his astonished butler on the stairs, and paused not till he had locked himself into the safety of his own room.There, at length, he was able to regain his composure, and think more calmly of the events of the preceding hour.CHAPTER XIThe Treacherous Shore
CHAPTER VIII
Robin Hood's Lair
Contrary to Mr. Field's expectations, this was not by any means Ben's last visit to him. Sometimes he would be absent from the village for a week at a time, but on his return no long period would elapse before he presented himself again at Farncourt, and to the surprise of the household, never failed to gain admittance to their master's presence.
"Oh, I knew him in past days," was Ben's reply in answer to the many questions which were addressed to him. "Why shouldn't a fellow sometimes go up to have a chat with an old friend?"
"It's plain enough those conversations don't agree with him then," was the universal opinion. "He's getting so jumpy and nervous, not half the man he was a little while ago."
There was certainly something wrong with the Silver King. His double chin was fast disappearing, and his waistcoat hung in loose folds, instead of presenting the smooth expanse which had formerly been the wearer's pride. His temper also did not improve as time went on, but became shorter and shorter, until at last even his own son grew afraid of him, and gave him as little of his company as was possible.
"If only I had a better clue I'd drive the nail in harder," said Ben to himself after one of his periodical absences, "as it is, however, I'm apparently on the right tack, and if only I can get him to commit himself a little further by letting out something more definite when he's speaking to me, I may be able to bring him altogether to his knees. I could of course make more public enquiries, but unfortunately I've not got quite a clean sheet myself, and I might perhaps find that I'd made it hot for Number One as well as for Mr. Thomas Algernon Field. Besides, I shall probably squeeze a good deal more out of him by working this little affair on my own hook than by letting someone else poach on my preserves. Whatever it is that he's done, he's in a blue funk over it, and would give anything to hush the matter up. I must just go cautiously to work, and in the meanwhile it's extremely convenient to have such a handy bank to draw on whenever I choose."
Ben jingled some money between his fingers as he spoke, with evident satisfaction, and puffed complacently at his cigar.
"I wonder why he was in such a hurry to get me to sign the document that night," he mused. "If I hadn't been half-seas over I'd have looked at it closer, but as it is I haven't a notion what it was about, though I remember well the colour of the paper, and the burnt penholder. He hints darkly that I have let myself in for something that I'd be sorry for once I was found out, but I can't help thinking that in that case he would be in a worse position than me. Anyhow, if we're both in the same boat it won't be to my advantage if I sink the craft by peaching to the world. I'd better go on as I'm doing for the present and reap the harvest I'm enjoying in consequence of his fears. I think I'll walk up to Farncourt now, and give another twist to the screw. My last week in town was a roaring one, and the sovereigns flew. It's fine fun to live like a millionaire every now and then.
"There's one other thing I can't understand," he added, as he wended his way to the house of his victim. "Why did he look so pleased that same night when he found the letter in old Wattie's coat as it was hanging on the wall? He didn't know I was peeping at him when he took it out and slipped it into his own pocket. I know it was only a few lines the boss had written to his daughter, for he'd read it over to me that very afternoon, and I was to post it when I went off next day. It surely couldn't have had anything to do with the paper I signed? I wish I had asked about it at the time."
As he passed the lodge gates he met Julius hastening to the village.
The voice of conscience, awakened in the boy's heart by the terrors of the hours of darkness and the loneliness, had been stilled and silenced when the morning light arose, and having once overstepped the bounds of truth and obedience, it was easy to continue along the path of wrong.
Two months had passed since that Sunday's talk. The new tutor from Oxford had come and gone, peremptorily ordered out of the house by Mr. Field, who could not brook the superior intellect and independent manner of the young graduate. Thus the lad was left once more to his own devices, and few were the days when he found it impossible to arrange a meeting with his friend at Sea View Cottage. He had almost ceased to look upon his disobedience as a sin, his only fear being that his father would find him out at last.
This morning he found Robin in a great state of excitement, brimful of new ideas and plans. To the unimaginative Julius these continual surprises were an unmixed delight. He never knew what new rôle he would be expected to take up as he joined his comrade in his play. Sometimes it was a knight in armour, going to rescue a captive princess, represented perhaps by old Mother Sheppard or Mrs. Power. These, being supposed to be under the spell of a magician, were naturally unwilling to accompany their youthful deliverers to the shore. Sometimes he had to represent a character in a favourite tale, but more often it was Robin's history lesson which afforded the framework for some entrancing game.
"I'm so glad you've come, Julius," was the welcoming cry now as he appeared at the door, "but what a pity your coat is grey. It's fortunate my old jersey is green, for if I pull it down as low as I can, it almost covers my knickers, and no one would naturally look at them first."
"Why shouldn't my coat be grey?" questioned Julius. "It's a very good colour."
"Because it should begreen--Lincoln green," exclaimed Robin. "They all had it. It was their sort of badge."
"What badge?" asked Julius, altogether puzzled by the reply.
"Oh, I forgot you hadn't heard," was Robin's rejoinder. "I've been reading to-day in my history-book about Robin Hood. He was an outlaw--a splendid one--who lived in the woods, and he and his followers were always dressed in green, and had bows and arrows and hunted the king's deer. I'll be Robin Hood, because of course it's my name, and will you be one of my merry men, Julius?"
"I don't think an outlaw is a nice kind of man," was the reply. "They were generally hanged, weren't they?"
"Robin Hood was agoodoutlaw," responded Robin earnestly. "He used to do all sorts of kind things to the poor, and they loved him and would never tell where he was hid."
"My coat has a greenish lining," remarked Julius. "Do you think if I turned it inside out that it would do?"
"Perhaps it would," answered Robin doubtfully. "I'll ask mother to lend you her green scarf to tie round your waist, and we'll pretend it's all that colour."
This weighty matter arranged, the two boys sallied forth to the little wood which lay at the back of the cottage.
"The first thing to do is to find a cave, or some place to sleep in," was the leader's order, "and then we'll have a look at the king's deer."
"I'm sure there aren't any deer here," remarked Julius, "and if there were, we'd get into a jolly row if we killed them."
"There are lots of rabbits, and they'll do just as well," replied Robin cheerfully. "Of course we won't kill them really, we'll only make-believe they are dead."
It was not long before an ideal site was found for the hiding-place of the merry men.
A high bank had been dug into long ago to obtain gravel, leaving a hollow of about six feet square. Young saplings and briars had sprung up all around making an arch of green above the level floor. Robin gave a shout of triumph when he discovered the spot.
"If we can drag some branches here to make a roof, it will be just like a real house," he said. "We might make a wall in front with these stones which are lying about, and only leave one little hole for the door, so that it will be nice and warm inside, and nobody will be able to see us, even if they pass quite near."
It took longer than he had calculated to carry out the grand idea--indeed for a whole week the king's deer were permitted to go unmolested, Robin Hood and his follower being too busily engaged in building operations to turn their thoughts to the chase.
It was a proud day when Mrs. Power was invited to inspect the result of the boys' labours. True, the wall was of such an unstable nature that their guest had to be well warned not to lean even her hand against it, in case it should fall. What did it matter that the stone part of it only attained to about the height of Robin's elbow? The rest of it was satisfactorily completed by a dilapidated wooden gate perched on the top, and interwoven with fern and twigs, so as to form an impenetrable screen from the outer world. An old rug had been suspended by its corners across the top of the pit, making a grand roof when supplemented by branches laid in thick layers above. Moss had been laboriously collected from all parts of the wood wherewith to cover the floor, and ferns were ingeniously planted in crannies in the sandy walls to make it look more natural, Julius said.
It was a glorious moment when the kettle at length boiled upon the camp-fire kindled at the entrance, and still more delightful when Mrs. Power and the two boys all squeezed inside the hut to enjoy smoked tea in enamelled mugs, and regale themselves with ginger biscuits and toffee.
"You told us to get what we liked with the sixpence, mother," explained Robin, "so Julius chose the toffee, and I took the biscuits."
"It is hardly what I should have selected myself," answered Mrs. Power, "but if it's what you like, I'm more than satisfied."
"What do you think we ought to call the house?" asked Julius. "Robin says 'The Outlaw's Castle' would be a good name, but I think it's a very silly one, as we've no battlements or dungeons, not even a drawbridge."
"Julius wanted to call it 'Farncourt Arbour,'" said Robin contemptuously, "which would be simply awful."
"What do you say to 'Robin Hood's Lair'?" suggested Mrs. Power. "I believe that was really the name of one of his retreats."
"It's better than 'Farncourt Arbour,'" responded Robin. "Let us call it that."
"I wish we had a cupboard for the mugs and the kettle," remarked Julius, "but perhaps the tramps might find them and take them away. It does seem a pity we can't sleep here, for I'm sure not a drop of rain would come through the roof."
"There is just one thing I shall bring to leave here always," said Robin, "and that's the text I painted the first Sunday Julius was with us. If you will lend me two of your long hat-pins, mother, I shall stick it up on that smooth piece of the wall, so that if anyone did happen to come in he would see it at once. It will make the inside of the house quite bright and cheerful and much more home-like. And you know, mother," he added shyly, "the words might do a poor tramp good."
CHAPTER IX
The Tramp
"Julius," said Robin in an awestruck voice a few days later, when they met as usual at the entrance of the wood, "I do believe the tramp has really come. You said you would be here at ten o'clock punctually, but I waited and waited and you never turned up, so I thought you had forgotten all about it and that I had better go on to the hut by myself. When I had got quite close up to it I saw a boot sticking out of the door, and it gave me such a fright, I simply scooted back into the road again. I was jolly glad to see you coming along, I can tell you."
"I thought you wanted a tramp to come," said Julius rather scornfully. "The best thing we can do is to tell the policeman, and he'll send the fellow about his business pretty quick. I call it cheek for a nasty dirty beggar to go and rest in our nice house."
"It looked quite a good boot," replied Robin, "not all over holes like some of them have. Perhaps he's only a poor clean wanderer who wouldn't do any harm."
"Let us have another look," said Julius. "We needn't go very near."
With much care and precaution the boys crept silently through the undergrowth until they came in sight of Robin Hood's Lair, taking the greatest pains to avoid treading on dead sticks or twigs, after the manner of Red Indians tracking their prey.
"There are two boots now," said Robin under his breath, "and they're quite tidy, both of them. Perhaps he's not a tramp after all."
As he spoke, there was a movement inside the hut, and a man emerged into the open. The youthful spies crouched low among the bracken to watch the intruder.
He was a tall, well-knit figure, but with a droop in his shoulders which told of ill-health and fatigue. His face bore out the same story, for it was white and drawn as if with long suffering, and his somewhat weather-worn clothes only emphasized the frailty of the form beneath. His cap was off, and the sun glinted down upon his fair hair and short well-trimmed beard, revealing a shapely head and thoughtful brow.
"He's the nicest tramp I ever saw," remarked Julius, "but he looks awfully ill."
"I don't believe he's a beggar," rejoined Robin. "I expect he's just someone come to stay at the village so as to get sea-air after having been in a hospital. They often do that. He must be very poor, however, for though he seems quite respectable, his coat is all patched and frayed."
The intruder had turned and was contemplating the architecture of the hut with an amused countenance. He now replaced his cap and walked away in an irresolute manner, as if he did not know exactly in which direction to bend his steps. To the boys' dismay he finally bore down straight towards their hiding-place.
"Keep still, Julius," whispered Robin. "That's the way wild animals do when danger is near. If we run, we're sure to be seen."
Alas for his hopes! Wild animals do not usually wear clean white collars, and in this instance two snowy spots gleamed clearly and distinctly through the thick screen of fern. In another moment Robin felt his arm suddenly seized, and glanced hastily up into the face that bent above him, anxious to read his fate.
It was a reassuring sight, for the blue eyes that looked down upon him were full of sparkle, and a merry smile was stealing round the corners of the mouth.
"I'm afraid I've been trespassing," was his captor's remark, as he held the boy with a firm but gentle grip, "and worse than trespassing--actually taking possession of a man's house during his absence and making use of it as if it were my own."
Julius had bolted like a hare at the sight of his comrade's capture, but seeing that a friendly conference was evidently taking place, he gradually drew nearer to hear what was being said, being very careful, nevertheless, to keep well out of harm's way.
"I'm glad you used our house, sir," answered Robin, gaining confidence by the kindly tone. "I hope you found it comfortable."
"Most luxurious," responded the stranger. "Indeed I must confess to having spent most of the night there. I fell asleep yesterday evening on that delicious carpet of moss, and when I at last awoke it was actually morning and broad daylight."
"Were you really there all night?" exclaimed Robin delightedly, "just as if it was a proper house! I rather wish it had rained a little though."
"I'm very glad it didn't," was the reply. "I hardly think that is a charitable desire of yours!"
"I only mean that it would have been so jolly to hear the rain outside, and yet to know you had such a good roof over your head that it couldn't get through," explained Robin.
"I am glad to learn that you had no worse motive than that for your wish," laughed the stranger. "Now, my little chap, can you tell me which direction I must take to get to the high-road, as I haven't had my breakfast yet and I'm growing hungrier every moment. I don't want to go back to the village, but to strike out for the next hamlet, as I'm tramping to London and don't want to spend more time than I can help upon the way."
"Youarea tramp, then?" exclaimed Julius, who was now standing near, "even though you haven't got holes in your boots."
"Well, I suppose I am," was the reply. "Perhaps it would sound better if you said I was on a walking tour. It comes to much the same thing."
"I thought you were a poor man just arrived at Sunbury to get sea-air after you had been ill," remarked Robin. "You looked so frightfully thin."
"A regular scarecrow!" said the stranger. "I congratulate you as well as your friend on being right in your guesses. Iama poor man and Ihavebeen ill, and I certainly had hoped to stay in Sunbury for a few days to try and get up my strength a little; but I heard something at the Bull Inn yesterday afternoon on my arrival which made me change my mind and resolve to move on. I mustn't waste time talking, though, for I'm getting quite faint for want of food, and must ask the next good woman I meet to make me a cup of tea in her kitchen."
His looks certainly corroborated his statement, for a deadly pallor had overspread his countenance and he almost fell as he staggered up against a tree.
"I'm weaker than I thought," he murmured. "I wish I had gone on last night instead of stopping here."
"If you will wait a minute," said Robin eagerly, "I'll fetch you a glass of milk and some biscuits. Mother always gives them to me for my lunch, but I'd much rather you had them than me."
"It's too bad to rob you of your lunch, my boy," was the grateful answer, "but really I should be very glad of a bite. It would just help me to get along. By the way," he called out as Robin was darting off, "could you manage to bring the refreshments without letting everyone know I'm here? I have particular reasons for asking. I'll tell you why when you come back."
"It will be quite easy," asseverated Robin. "I often eat my lunch in the wood, so nobody will think it funny if I carry it away."
Julius considered it wiser to accompany the messenger rather than remain with the man, and many were the conjectures of the two boys as they went together upon their quest.
"I think he is in hiding from someone," said Robin, "and is afraid to risk going into the village in case he is taken prisoner. I wish he was a cavalier on some secret errand from the king. How splendid it would be to help him in some glorious adventure like one reads about in books!"
"He's much more likely to be a fugitive from justice," replied the more matter-of-fact Julius. "It's rather queer of him sleeping in Robin Hood's Lair all night, and not wanting to go to Sunbury again. I've half a mind to tell father about him and get him to send one of the game-keepers round."
"If you betray him I'll never play with you again! Never!" exclaimed Robin indignantly. "It would be mean after he's trusted us like this. I wouldn't have a traitor for my friend for anything, and that's what you would be if you told!"
When the pair returned to the house in the wood with a plentiful supply of the promised food, they found the stranger almost in a state of collapse.
With the greatest difficulty they got him to swallow a little milk, which revived him somewhat, so that with their assistance he was able at length to regain the shelter of the hut.
"I'll be all right soon," he said to them. "It's only my silly old heart. I've let myself run down rather too much, that's all."
To the boys' relief, in about twenty minutes he was able to sit up, and partake sparingly of their provisions.
"I'm afraid I must ask you to let me lodge another night in your mansion," he said. "I don't think my legs would carry me far to-day."
"Why don't you go to 'The Bull'?" asked Julius. "You'd be much more comfortable in a bed. I know there is lots of room now, for the season is over, and all the visitors have gone."
"It was my intention to stay there when I came to Sunbury," was the answer, "but I heard that somebody was now living in the neighbourhood whom I would rather not meet again, and therefore as I did not wish him to recognize me I thought it best to go away. I tried to take a short cut through the wood which I remembered of old, but happening to come across your little hut, it looked so inviting that I just stumbled in and went to sleep. I never woke till you found me this morning."
"We must go home to dinner now," remarked Robin, "and Julius won't be able to come again, as he's got to go out with his father this afternoon, but I'll look in later and see if I can bring you some more food."
"Keep my secret, then, like good boys," said the stranger. "I won't harm anybody or anything, and I shall be off to-morrow by the break of day, and not trouble either of you any more."
Many a time it was on the tip of Julius' tongue to let fall some remark about their strange guest, but the fear of losing Robin's fellowship held him back. It is not nice to be called a "traitor," and the flash in his friend's eyes when he said the word lingered unpleasantly in Julius' memory. There was also the ever-haunting terror that his father would discover the deception which he so consistently practised in utter disregard to the parental commands. It was no feeling of honour that checked the sentences as they rose to his lips, but dread of the consequences which might perchance recoil upon himself.
"I'm going to read to old Timothy this evening," said Mrs. Power to her little son, "and may be out rather late, as I shall stop at the Vicarage on my way back. You can take your supper when you like, as I shall not be home in time to give it to you."
Never before or after was Robin known to have such an abnormal appetite. Fully half the loaf and the whole of the butter vanished as if by magic from the table. He surprised Mother Sheppard also by a polite request for cheese, and to her astonishment the whole piece was finished when she came to clear away after Robin had left the room.
"If that boy doesn't burst with the supper he's took to-night, my name's not Jemima Ann," she exclaimed, "and every drop of the milk gone as I heated specially, expecting as there would be a good cupful left for me when he'd done. I'm blessed if the boy don't seem to have swallowed the jug too. Anyhow it's disappeared as well as the milk."
Robin in the meanwhile was curled up contentedly in a corner of the hut, watching its inmate ravenously devour the supplies which he had so successfully secured. A thick rug had also been obtained by the boy and carried up in triumph to the Lair. The ground was still dry after an exceptionally long hot summer, and the little bower certainly made an excellent shelter with its firm sandy walls and mossy floor. Many another wayfarer has been less comfortably lodged.
"I don't think you can be a wicked man," remarked Robin, after a careful scrutiny of the worn face before him, "but I wonder why you are so anxious not to meet the other fellow you told us of. Perhaps it's he who is the bad one, and not you."
"No," answered the stranger, with a sad attempt at a smile which went to Robin's heart. "I'm sorry to say that I'm the bad one, as you put it, but I am thankful I needn't stop there. The sinner has been forgiven by the grace of God, though the consequences of his sin on earth cannot be rubbed out."
"Then you're not afraid of that?" said Robin, nodding his head towards the text on the wall.
"I rejoice because of it," was the reply. "He Who knows all can forgive all."
The blue eyes gazed out into the tangle of wood, where the sun was setting behind the interwoven branches, brown now with the touch of coming whiter.
"A great sinner needs a great Saviour," he murmured half to himself. "Perhaps He can even help me to put right some of the wrong before the end comes."
CHAPTER X
A Flash of Lightning
When Robin awoke next morning he found that the weather had completely changed during the night. Gusts of wind howled round the little cottage and rattled the casement, as if angry foes sought admittance to his room. From his bed he could hear the hollow boom of the waves upon the shore, and the old apple-tree outside his window creaked and groaned as it was forced to bend its aged limbs before the gale.
His first thought was of the house in the wood and its mysterious occupant.
"I'll run up at once and see how the man has got on," he decided. "I don't think it looks as if it had rained yet, and it's pretty sheltered in the coppice, so I hope he has had a good night. I wonder if he is still there, or if he went at break of day as he said he would."
It was not long before he was peeping through the doorway of the little hut, his hair blown like an aureole about his forehead and his cheeks flushed by the buffeting of the wind.
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven," were the words that rose spontaneously to the stranger's lips as he glanced up at the fair vision before him.
"I'm not gone yet, Robin," he said as he held out his hand to the boy. "I am afraid I must ask you to put up with me for a few hours longer. I didn't feel quite up to an early start this morning."
Robin flew to his side and took the thin fingers in his.
"Of course you may stay here as long as you like," he replied. "I'm only afraid there's a storm coming on, and if it's very bad the roof might perhaps let in a little rain, supposing, you know, it came down in torrents."
The stranger smiled. "It's worth feeling ill to get another glimpse of you, my boy," he said. "I must confess that the longing for it rather weighed with me when I debated about my departure in the early dawn. I shall have to start soon, however, so as to be sure to catch the evening train to London, as it is hopeless to think of getting there on foot after this attack. It is six miles to the station, isn't it, Robin?"
"Six and a quarter," answered the lad, "and there are two hills on the way."
"I shall be lucky if I arrive there before midnight," was the reply, "but I'll have a try, anyhow. Meanwhile, I've still got some of the bread and butter you brought me last night, and a little milk in the bottom of the jug, so I shall do very well. Don't you bother about me, little chap. I'm used to roughing it a bit."
"I will bring you my lunch again at eleven o'clock," said Robin, "but I do wish you would let me tell mother about you, as she would know so much better than I do what you ought to have. I promise you, honour bright, that I wouldn't tell anyone else."
"Not even mother," answered the stranger, "though I am sure she must be a true and good woman who owns you as her son. God bless you both--if a prayer from such as I can bring you a benediction."
He watched the boy disappear among the trees, and then, turning over with his face to the earth, he groaned aloud.
"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed. "What might not have been! Truly the way of transgressors is hard."
There were traces of tears in his eyes when he at length rose and proceeded languidly to finish the provisions lying beside him.
"Julius, I want you to come with me to Westmarket to-day," said Mr. Field as he sat at the breakfast-table that morning. "Be ready at eleven o'clock sharp. A grand bazaar is being held there in aid of the Town Hall, and no end of swells are to be present. The Countess of Monfort is taking a great interest in the cause, and I must certainly put in an appearance, or they might think it rude. Money is not a bad thing, after all, and I have no doubt they will be glad enough to see me, even though neither her ladyship nor the earl have taken the trouble to return my call."
"I don't want to go," was the sulky reply. "I hate bazaars, and swells, and countesses, and it's beastly rot driving in the motor, with nothing to do but to sit still."
"Don't let me hear you speak like that again, Julius," said his father sternly. "Those are my orders and it is your part to obey."
"Couldn't you go a little later?" pleaded the boy. "Eleven o'clock is so very early."
It certainly was a little hard upon him, for he had set his heart on going down to the wood immediately after breakfast. The tramp, as he still called him, fascinated the lad strangely and he longed to find out more about the lonely stranger.
"The countess herself opens the bazaar at noon," replied his father, "and we shall need all our time to get there before the ceremony. So not a moment later shall I start. If you are not standing on the doorstep waiting for me, it will be the worse for you."
As Mr. Field left the apartment, Julius stamped his foot in impotent anger.
"It's too bad!" he exclaimed. "Why should I have to dress up like a doll in my best clothes, and waste the day like that, when Robin is allowed to run about in the wood just as he likes. I wonder if there would be time for me to slip down before I have to get ready for the car. There is just an hour. If I ran all the way I think I could do it. I should like to see if the man is still there."
Eleven o'clock came, and the motor was at the door. So was Mr. Field, but no Julius. For five minutes there was ominous silence, as butler and chauffeur stood motionless, awaiting their master's pleasure.
"Drive on," said Mr. Field at length, as he flung himself into the car, and the look on his face was not agreeable as he passed out of sight.
"I'm sorry for the little fellow, even though he is such a spoilt puppy," volunteered the footman who had come in Jenkins' place. "I expect he'll catch it hot before the day is out."
It was difficult for Mr. Field to regain his composure before he arrived at the end of the drive. To be openly defied by his son in the presence of his servants was an offence not to be lightly passed over. The unctuous smile which illumined his features was forced and unnatural as he officiously went up to the countess to congratulate her on the success of her undertaking.
"What an impossible man he is," she remarked later to a friend. "He seems to have 'money' written all over him, and nothing else apparently to recommend him to the world. I really am honestly grateful to him for the way he is showering sovereigns about, but it doesn't make me any more anxious to have him as my next-door neighbour. I shouldn't mind his being uneducated or plain, some of the best of nature's gentlemen are that--it's the pretentious vulgarity of the man I can't stand."
Mr. Field fared no better with the earl. A few cold words of welcome in response to the effusive greeting bestowed upon him by the millionaire, and Lord Monfort turned away to escort a new-comer to his wife's stall. It was pleasant, however, to feel that in spite of it all, he was undoubtedly considered a person of importance at the sale. Fair ladies crowded round to persuade him to buy absolutely useless things at utterly exorbitant prices, and his circuit of the hall was a sort of triumphal progress, delightful while it lasted, but leaving him somewhat exhausted at the close.
He had other business in Westmarket besides his social duties, which detained him there some hours, but he returned to the bazaar to have a cup of tea before leaving the town. He was resting comfortably in the refreshment marquee, enjoying the band, when a sudden drop in the music caused the voice of someone sitting at a distant table to resound distinctly across the room. Mr. Field would not have noticed his companions, had he not happened to look up hastily and so caught the eye of a young man, one of the group, who was facing him. He recognized him as the countess's nephew, and saw him give a quick sign to his friend to cease speaking, but not before a few isolated remarks had reached the listener's ear. He could not follow the whole sentence, but he was sure he heard the name of Judge Simmons mentioned in connection with a certain money affair. There was no doubt about the concluding words--"distinctly shady"--for the band stopped suddenly as they were uttered, and there was nothing to veil the unpleasant insinuation of the phrase.
"What possible reason could that young fellow have had in checking his companion when he saw me, unless it was because I was the subject of their conversation, and they did not want me to hear?" So he mused as he absently stirred his tea.
The band struck up once more, but to Mr. Field the music this time sounded intolerably harsh and grating. The jingle of the tune set his teeth on edge, and he felt he could endure it no longer. It was a relief when the crowded hall was left behind, and he felt the cool air again upon his brow.
It was nearly four o'clock now and the day was closing in. Heavy clouds were massed over the sea, looking black and thundery, and the dust blew in fitful eddies around.
"I think we're driving into a storm, sir," said the chauffeur.
The simple words jarred strangely on Mr. Field.
"Don't speak till you're spoken to," he snapped. "What you have got to do is to attend to your business and not make remarks about the weather."
At that moment the motor reached a steep part of the last hill, necessitating dropping into a lower gear. The chauffeur, irritated by the uncourteous taunt, plied pedal and lever with quite uncalled-for vehemence. There was a harsh grinding sound and the car stopped with a sudden jerk.
"It's no use, sir," he said, after a few moments tinkering at the machinery. "The gears are jambed and she won't move an inch. I'm afraid I'll have to get her towed home."
"Not here a fortnight, and you've broken the car already," exclaimed Mr. Field, his fury rising to boiling-point as he realized that he should have to yield to the inevitable and walk ignominiously back to Farncourt. "I give you warning on the spot, and no character; so you may leave when you choose."
Discarding his fur coat as too heavy, he turned his back on the damaged vehicle and set out upon the way home.
"Driving into a storm!" he repeated to himself as he plodded along the road. "I only hope not. If I was superstitious I should call it a horribly bad omen. Curious how nervous I feel to-day! It surely must be something in the air. But bad gales have been weathered before now, and I think I'm pretty safe, considering all things. I confess it was a nasty shock when Ben Green first turned up, but he evidently knows very little, or he would have had me in a hole long ago. There is no one else I need fear. I fancied Simmons had a queer look in his eye that day I saw him at the Abbey, but he's powerless to do any real harm. Even if he raked up unpleasant questions about the papers, not a soul was witness of what led up to it all. That is a secret known to no one in the wide world but myself. The past is too deeply buried by this time for any spectres to rise from the grave now."
As he spoke, a peal of thunder reverberated forth, so unexpectedly that it caused him to give an involuntary start.
"I shall take the short cut through the wood," he said, "and I must be quick about it, for it's looking rather bad all round."
The sky was becoming more and more threatening every moment, and darkness seemed to descend almost at once upon the land. Mr. Field shivered as the air grew chill, and regretted the warm garment he had left behind in the car.
"I'm feeling out of sorts," he added. "Those silly remarks at the bazaar upset me a good deal, though there is really no need for me to mind. I wish, however, I hadn't come by the wood, especially as I seem to have lost the right path, and wandered rather out of my way. It is eerie all by myself in the gloom, with such a tempest brewing too. Bother! There's the rain!" he exclaimed, as two or three big drops splashed against his face.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, revealing to his anxious gaze the rough hut which the boys had constructed with so much care, and which stood only a few paces from the narrow track.
"A woodman's shed, I suppose," he said. "I may as well take refuge inside, for it looks as if there was going to be a regular deluge."
He was right. Down came the rain, pattering loudly on the crisp autumn leaves, first with a sort of measured beat, then more rapidly, as if driven fiercely by an ever-compelling force from behind. Suddenly with a mighty rush, it seemed as though the cloud had burst overhead, and hissing torrents poured in straight unbroken lines from the clouds.
The little house was empty, and Mr. Field stood looking out of the door, while the lightning played about the tops of the trees, illuminating the depths of the dark copse as with the brightness of day. His was not a brave nature at the best, and the scene was terrific enough to strike awe into the heart of a bolder man than he claimed to be. He withdrew further into the shed, as the thunder continued to roll above him in long deafening crashes.
"Who is it says that thunder is the voice of the Almighty?" he muttered. "It is in the Bible, I believe. It sounds awful enough for anything."
Just then a flash of more than usually vivid character lit up the interior of the shelter, and to Mr. Field's consternation, words of fire appeared to blaze out before his eyes. For a moment, to his excited imagination it seemed like the writing on the wall at Belshazzar's feast. Could this be the Hand as well as the Voice of God?
It was the text which Robin had pinned up inside the hut--
"THE EYES OF THE LORD ARE IN EVERY PLACE, BEHOLDING THE EVIL AND THE GOOD."
It came like a message from an unseen Power, an answer to the thoughts which had so lately filled his mind, and the words burnt into his very soul.
"In every place--in every place. Beholding the evil--beholding the evil."
The sentence echoed through his brain until he could bear it no longer.
"Will that verse never cease to haunt me?" he exclaimed. "Is there truly a Witness in Heaven Who sees all--all--and Who can, when He wills, bring even our hidden sins into the light?"
He made as though he would leave the hut, when suddenly to his horrified gaze, a second flash revealed a pale emaciated face peering in through the door.
With a loud cry, Mr. Field rushed at the opening, and with superhuman strength hurled the apparition from him as he dashed past.
A dark form fell heavily into the bushes, but he stayed not to see. Scrambling, falling in the inky blackness, he at last gained the edge of the wood--how, he never knew. Drenched to the skin and with his eyes staring wildly before him, he reached his home. Speechless and trembling, he passed his astonished butler on the stairs, and paused not till he had locked himself into the safety of his own room.
There, at length, he was able to regain his composure, and think more calmly of the events of the preceding hour.
CHAPTER XI
The Treacherous Shore