[1] The Cobb did not then, as now, join the land, but was out off from it at high water.Pushing through the throng, I gained a spot near Dassell and the Mayor, and added two more eyes to those already fixed upon the ships, which had now come to anchor in the bay."Well, well, what make you of it now?" I heard the Mayor ask Dassell anxiously."Rank mischief," snapped the deputy."What's to be done, then?""Naught can be done, sir. The time for doing has gone by. Had I had my way, the scoundrels should have answered long ago, or been the heavier by some cannon-balls. But now it is too late. We can do naught save watch."The Mayor groaned aloud; the councillors behind him stared like frightened sheep; but no one had a helpful word to offer.And so we stood and watched; watched till our eyeballs ached; watched till the sinking sun caught all three vessels in a dazzling glare and made them stand out black as ink, like things of ugly fate. Then, just on sunset, we heard a great commotion on the ships; the ring of sharply-given orders, the hurried tread of feet upon the decks, the creak of pulleys--all these reached us clearly across the smooth, still waters. As for seeing, the glare of sun was all too blinding, and the ships too far away, for us to make out anything beyond a dim, blurred mass of swiftly-moving forms which showed above the bulwarks."What is it, think you, Dassell?" asked the Mayor in a fearful, gusty whisper."Lowering boats on the off side, I fancy, sir," replied the deputy, as calm as though he had been speaking of the weather."Boats!" gasped Gregory Alford, raising his hands. "Boats! What! do you mean to say they're going to land?""I fancy so," said Dassell. "Nay, I am certain sure of it!" he added, raising his voice and pointing. "Hark! here they come!"Even as he spoke we heard the splash of many oars; and presently five great boats laden with men, and with the captured King's boat following, drew from behind the ships.At first they seemed to be making for the Cobb itself, but passing that by they swung round to the west of it and headed straight for shore. On seeing this we all ran pell-mell down to the sea. Heavens! how the shingle flew beneath our feet, and what a breathless, anxious crowd it was which gathered near the water! Verily, it seemed as if all Lyme stood waiting. Men, women, children, young and old were there, yet scarce a word was spoken; all eyes were fixed upon those sweeping oars, which brought we knew not what towards us. There was silence on the water, too--no sound save the creak and splash of oars; and I have oft thought since, when standing on that fateful spot, that perchance some dread presentiment of future ill hung over both the comers and the watchers!The boats drew nearer, until at length we could make out a thick array of sword-hilts, pistol stocks, and muskets. Then, indeed, the crowd buzzed with excitement, and glancing at the Mayor I saw that he fairly quaked with fear, and that his face was deathly white. He tried to speak to Dassell, but he could not.But there was little time to think of Master Alford, for now the foremost boat had grounded on the shingle, and in a twinkling those aboard were leaping for the shore. Some reached it dry-shod, others jumped short and splashed into the water; but one and all were quickly on the beach. For the most part they were white-wigged, fine-dressed gentlemen, with swords at their sides and pistols in their belts, while many carried muskets also.They took no heed of us, save that one of them, who seemed to be a leader, turned, and holding up his hand, bade us fall back to make more room--the which we straightway did.[image]THE LANDING OF THE DUKE OF MONMOUTHMeanwhile the other boats had drawn close in, and those aboard were leaping shoreward with a will. Eighty odd in all I counted. In the stern of the last boat a man sat all alone. He was arrayed in purple and a big plumed hat, with a single glittering star upon his breast, and wore a jewel-hilted sword. When all else had landed, and he came forward to the bows to follow, someone ran back into the sea, and, uncovering, made a knee for him, in order that he might not wet his feet, and with a gracious bow of thanks he stepped lightly from it to the shore. And then I knew him; for notwithstanding that five years had left some mark upon it, there could be no mistake about that face of almost girlish beauty: and as he stood there for a moment in the slow of the sunset methought it was small wonder that the common people worshipped him."Monmouth!"At first the magic word sped through the crowd from mouth to mouth in startled whispers; then, suddenly, as though by one consent, a great shout rent the air:"A Monmouth! A Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!"Again and yet again the ringing cry uprose, until the grey old cliffs behind us seemed mad with echoes; then, as the last shout died away, a voice which sounded like a puling child's after such tumult broke out upon the outskirts of the throng:"Traitors! Treason!"Looking round that way I saw good Master Gregory Alford speeding for the town as fast as two fat legs could carry him, his coat-tails flying wide upon the wind.Verily the Mayor of Lyme had proved full bitterly that high estate is apt to have its drawbacks; and also that "A Certain Person" had made no bad choice of landing-places.The drums and town guard had already disappeared; so also had friend Dassell.CHAPTER VThe Man with the King's Evil'Twas plain to see by the glowing look upon his handsome face how touched the Duke was by these joyous acclamations. Doffing his hat he bowed both graciously and long; then, as he raised his hand for silence, a sudden hush fell on the eager throng before him."Dear friends," said he, in a voice that rang out clear and sweet upon the stillness, "I thank you more than words can tell for the thrice-hearty welcome ye have given me back to that country from which, as ye know, I have so long been exiled. Dear people, this is neither time nor place for speech-making, but as for the reason of my coming--well, methinks the cries which just now fell upon mine ears proclaim how thoroughly ye are aware of it. Truth, like good wine, needs little bush, and certainly those words of yours rang true as Spanish steel; for verily, dear friends, I am Monmouth, your Monmouth, son of your late beloved King, the champion of that Protestant religion which ye hold so dear, and of those liberties which are the very birthright of our country."At this another mighty shout went up of "Monmouth! our Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!" and while the air still rang with it, a woman, well advanced in years, ran from the crowd, and kneeling at the Duke's feet, caught up his hand and kissed it. At first he started back, then, having looked keenly at her face, raised her tenderly and kissed her on the cheek.It turned out afterwards that she was some old servant who had known him when a boy; and you may be sure that this gracious act endeared him still more greatly to the simple-hearted folk who witnessed it. Indeed, it seemed as if they were all bent on following the ancient dame's example, for with a loud, glad cry the crowd surged towards the Duke, and had not those about him held them back he must have been wellnigh pressed into the sea.Then Monmouth once more raised his hand for silence."Good people all," said he, "ere we set forth upon our enterprise I would have you join in giving thanks to God for merciful deliverance vouchsafed us from the King's ships while at sea."Uncovering, the Duke knelt down upon the shore, and nearly all the rest did likewise.To me he seemed to pray both well and earnestly, and none the less so for that his prayer was short. Ah, how little did we think just then that in a few short months many of us would hear prayers and speeches on that very spot from lips which would soon be closed for ever!On either side of Monmouth knelt two men, who, by the look of them, might also well have let go a prayer, for both were dressed as ministers. He on the right was short and stout, with a rounded, happy face. His eyes and mouth were tightly closed; his hands were clasped before him. The man upon the left was tall and bony, with a face that ill accorded with his garb, being sharp and crafty, and, as I found out when he turned it suddenly towards the glowing sky, blotched scarlet with king's evil. A tousled wig hung down upon his forehead, and beneath it two small villainous black eyes went to and fro as though they were on wires. Throughout the prayer he never ceased to rub his bony hands together like one who washed; while, ever and anon, he jerked forth hallelujahs through his nose. I knew him not from Adam then (I was to know him all too well thereafter!), but, verily, I hated him upon the spot.Prayer being ended, the Duke unsheathed his sword, and holding it high above his head, cried:"I draw this weapon in the cause of liberty and true religion, and may God bless the work that lies before us!"A loud "Amen!" broke from the crowd, and Monmouth said:"Forward, and let those who are well disposed towards us follow!"Then Monmouth's men formed up in double file, a blue flag was unfurled, in front of which the Duke took up his place, with a fine-dressed gentleman on either side of him; then those of our townsmen who had the courage of their voices (some hundred odd) fell in behind, and so they all went marching to the market-place.Here beneath the flag, which bore the motto,Pro religione et libertate, a proclamation was read aloud by the lanky, black-eyed minister, whose evil looks had struck me so upon the shore; and as he read he fell at times into the broadest Scotch, which it is quite beyond me to describe. Moreover, what he read was far too long to set down here. Suffice it to say that 'twas one long indictment of the King (or, as they put it, James, Duke of York), charging him, among other crimes, with having poisoned his brother, the late King Charles, and ending with these words:"Now let us play the men for our people, and for the cities of our God; and the Lord do that which seemeth good unto Him."While the reading of this long tirade was going forward I sought some information."Who are those two fine-dressed men who stand on either side the Duke?" I asked of a sour-faced fellow at my elbow."Those are Monmouth's generals," he answered with a snivel. "He on the right is Lord Grey of Wark, of whom I cannot say much; but he on the left is Master Fletcher of Saltoun, a man well skilled in carnal warfare, a godly man to boot.""Ah, and that round-faced minister who tries to look so solemn and yet cannot. Who is he?""'Tis Master Hooke, the Duke's private chaplain, a worthy man, I trow, though somewhat Popish of appearance."Just then the reader of the declaration turned himself to get a better light, and the setting sun fell full upon his blotched, scorbutic cheek and made it look as though 'twere stained with blood.I gazed upon him spellbound for a moment, then I asked:"And prithee, who is he that reads?"The voice of my informant dropped into a solemn whisper, as though 'twere something sacred that he spoke of, as he answered:"That is Doctor Robert Ferguson, chaplain to Monmouth's army, and a terror to all workers of iniquity."On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and barely saved myself from crying out."What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with angry eyes."Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay, Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith, bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout, nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been imprisoned by the Mayor.Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the grey-haired Anabaptist minister."There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of Master Gregory Alford!"I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager, others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every lip, and each new-comer added to the din.Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly, steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty, startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.Just then the mare turned round her pretty head to look at me, and neighed again."Is this thy mare?" asked he who held the bridle."Well--yes," I answered; "at least, that is, I thought it was; but now it seems as though I must have been mistaken.""Thou hast a mocking tongue, young man," whined he who held the lantern."Yet that were surely better than a thieving hand," quoth I."What mean you?" he asked, taking a step towards me."Exactly what I say," I answered slowly. "In other words, you are a pair of sneaking thieves."At that each laid a hand upon his sword and eyed me fiercely, while he with the light came forward in a threatening fashion."We are no thieves," he hissed, showing his yellow teeth. "We claim thy mare for the cause.""And, prithee, what cause is that?" I asked."The cause of liberty and truth," whined he."The cause of Monmouth, eh?"He nodded frowningly."Then," said I, "if liberty and truth go hand in hand with thieving, may God help the Duke! Let go that bridle," I added, striding up to the fellow who had laid a hand on it again.He hesitated for a moment, glaring upon me with a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes; but, though only eighteen years, I topped him by a good three inches, and doubtless my face told tales besides. Growling something anent "godless upstarts" he drew back sulkily and joined his comrade by the door which he had closed. And there they stood muttering together and casting ugly glances at me.Turning Kitty round, I took her bridle on my arm and moved towards them."Open that door," I said, "and let me pass."But they were two to one, and odds give courage even unto cowards. Whipping out their swords they set themselves against the door."You leave that horse or go not," said one."Aye, verily," quoth the other.Stopping, I also drew my sword and said:"Ah! say you so? Listen; do you know that I have but to call, and half a score good friends will come to teach you honesty? Again, I say, open that door and let me pass.""Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the cause to boot."There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes, 'twas my only chance!"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!""Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?""Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open that door with right goodwill.""Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other. "Whom doth it concern?""One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel."Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"I nodded, though more than doubtful of the godliness; and he added:"Why, then, didst not tell us this before, friend?""What now!" I shouted with a show of anger as I sheathed my sword. "Am I, then, to cry my business out to every brace of thieves I meet?""You speak with heat, not knowing," whined the lantern-bearer. "Verily, we are no thieves, but honest fighters for the cause, seeking horses, which are sorely lacking. And if we had known the nature of thy business, we----""Fool!" I broke in fiercely. "Cease thy prating, and open that door at once, or methinks 'twill be the worse for you. One word of this delay to Dr. Ferguson, and----"Back flew the door, and, as I moved slowly forward, the opener of it laid a trembling hand upon my arm, saying:"Pray you, sir, get not two honest fellows into trouble. 'Twas done in ignorance.""I will consider that," I answered sternly, striding beside my mare into the yard with great relief. Truly, one Ferguson had served my purpose handsomely!Turning to the left, in order to avoid the crowded yard, I passed down a well-known entry, and so came out into a dark and now quite deserted street."That was a narrow squeak, old girl," I whispered, stroking Kitty's silken neck, and, as though she understood, the pretty creature whinnied gently. Then I mounted, and away we fled for home.In view of what had happened at the stable, I judged it best to keep as far as possible to by-ways; and so, instead of going through the town (the nearest road), I struck into a narrow, high-banked lane with sheltering trees on either side.'Twas now dusk. Far off I heard the tumult of the town, rising and falling in a ceaseless hum; but here all seemed silent and deserted. Yet, even so, it was not long before I proved that Monmouth's men were guarding even such unlikely avenues; for just as Kitty, with a hill before her, dropped into an easy trot, I suddenly made out a group of fellows gathered near the top, beneath the shadow of a tree.This was plaguy awkward, but yet more so when, as I drew nearer, they spread themselves across the road, and I made out they were armed with muskets. Still, there was nothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter; so, bringing Kitty to a walk, I went forward whistling carelessly, and had come within fifty yards of them, when one, who seemed to be a leader, stepped out, and holding up his hand, cried:"Stop! Thy name and business, friend!"At that I pulled up the mare, and shouted back:"What's that you say?"Fingering his musket-lock, he came a few steps nearer me, and bawled:"Thou'rt somewhat hard of hearing, friend. I said, Thy name and business? Prithee, give both quickly.""My name is of small account," I answered; "and for my business, know that it concerns one Robert Ferguson."That name had done so well for me before, that I could think of nothing better; but, alack! it failed me this time."That will not serve thee, friend. 'Tis not sufficient," quoth the man sternly. "If thy business indeed concerns our chaplain, show thy pass, or give the watchword.""Aye, verily! thy pass or watchword," sang another who had now come up with him.Here, truly, was an ugly state of things. To turn and flee might mean a musket-ball for me or Kitty. I thought a moment. Yes, to surprise them was my only chance."The watchword, say ye? Yes, with all my heart."So saying, I bent forward in the saddle, and, pressing my knees upon the mare's flanks, spoke softly to her. She gave an angry snort, down went her ears, and next instant she was rushing forward like a mad thing.'Twas all so sudden that, for the nonce, those valiant keepers of the road were utterly confounded. With startled cries, they broke and fled towards the banks. Yet barely was I past them ere a musket-shot rang out, and a ball sang dangerously near my head. Another and another followed, but by that time I was beyond their reach.Not till I was well past Uplime did I draw rein; then, pulling up beside a little wood, I stopped to breathe and think. Truly, my mare and I had already had a taste of what rebellion meant. A few short hours had made our quiet roads unsafe for honest men. "'Tis a pretty thing," I muttered, "if a fellow cannot ride home peacefully without the danger of a pistol bullet through his head. If this be the way of 'honest Protestants', then give me Popery! The sooner I am at The Havering, the better."With that I turned my horse, and, entering a lonely lane, which, as it seemed, was certain to prove empty, cantered on my way. But I had not gone far before I overtook some half-score fellows who were hurrying Lymewards. As they drew aside to let me pass, I reined up suddenly and scanned their faces. They were heavy, lumbering yokels, farm hands for the most part, and several were known to me."Well, and whither go you?" I asked."Up over, into Lyme," said they, "to join the Duke o' Monmouth. Hast not heard the news, sir?""Yes, I have heard it right enough," I answered; "but, if you would be warned in time, go home again, for methinks your present way leads straight to hanging."Their mouths fell open at my words, and for a moment there was silence; then one of them, a big-limbed fellow, cried:"A Monmouth! Down with Popery! The Protestant religion!"The others joined in lustily, and so I left them and rode on. Alack! I was to see three of those simple-minded rustics dangling from a rope-end in the days to come!On drawing near Hay House (a lonely place), where lived the Mayor of Lyme, I saw a horse come out into the road, with two men on it, riding double.This seemed so strange that I must needs pull up to look at them, and so, as they came abreast of me, I found the foremost one was Dassell. Both had swords and pistols."What now?" said I."Hush!" said he. "The very trees have ears to-night. I ride to raise the country on these rebels--to Crewkerne first--and friend Thorold here goes with me.""Yes, but why ride ye so?" I asked."Because there is no other way," he answered, smiling grimly. "'Tis certainly a heavy beast--a coach-horse surely; but 'twill serve, methinks. At any rate, 'twas the only horse in Master Gregory's stable.""And is the Mayor at home?""Nay, there is no one save his sister. All his men have joined the rebels. The Mayor fled long ago to Exeter, to warn the Duke of Albemarle.""And save his skin!" said I. "Well, have a care. The roads are guarded, and 'tis but a chance that I am not the heavier by a bullet.""Ah! is that so?" quoth Dassell, glancing at his pistols."It is," said I, and, wishing them God-speed, rode on my way.On reaching home I found the yard deserted, and so, vowing vengeance on our truant fellows, I led Kitty to the stable. There I had removed her harness, fed and watered her, when I heard a footstep just outside; and turning, found my father standing in the doorway with a lantern in his hand."Is that you, my son?" he asked, in a voice which methought was strange and hollow."Yes, sir," I answered, and was about to start forth on a full account of all that I had seen and heard, when, as my father raised the light, I noticed that his face was deathly white, and that his eyes were full of fear, a look which I had never seen in them before. Then, and not till then, I thought of Tubal Ammon, and the guarding of the window."What is it, sir?" I asked with great anxiety."Come, quickly, Michael," he replied, and turning, led the way towards the house.He took me straight into the study, where one glance sufficed to prove that something bad had happened. The window, a pane of which above the fastener had been broken, lay wide open; papers were littered on the floor; while with a thrill of fear, I noticed that my mother's portrait was displaced."Father, what is wrong?" I asked, turning to the spot where he stood staring at me in dumb, frightened fashion.He made no answer, but going over to the secret panel, opened it, and pointed to a darkened corner.With trembling hand I took a candle from the table, and, kneeling, looked inside.The Black Box was not there!CHAPTER VI"Too Late"When I glanced up, amazed and stupefied, it was to find my father's eyes fixed on me with a look that I shall ne'er forget. 'Twas one of fear, and bitterness, and deep reproach. For a moment I was stricken dumb, then, scarce knowing what I said, I gasped:"Gone! How?"My father waved a hand towards the window, and, in a low voice, answered:"You have failed me, Michael."I did not, could not answer him, and so he went on in the same low, crushing voice:"Yes, Michael, you have failed me utterly. You have placed your father in the shadow of the gallows."Those words to me were like the plunging of a knife into my heart. Shame, self-reproach, could silence me no longer."Sir!" I cried, springing to my feet, and facing him with tight-clenched hands, and burning cheeks, "you judge me harshly! I did not fail you willingly! I----""You did not get my letter, then?" he put in sternly."Yes, sir, I got your letter, but other stirring things clean drove it from my mind.""And, pray, what stirring things are those?""Why, hast not heard the news?""I have heard naught. I have not long returned, and though methought I heard a sound of some commotion in the town, I took but little heed. My thoughts were far away. My friend is dead. But, say, what news is that which made you fail your father?""Duke Monmouth landed here, at Lyme, to-night!"With one deep, sobbing groan, my father staggered back into a chair, and there sat, limp and helpless, like a man bereft of reason."Monmouth--landed--here--at--Lyme!" he gasped at length. "Then are we utterly undone, and both may look upon the gallows as our own. For, verily, the words I spake this morning are now proven. He who hath thus put us into jeopardy is in truth a creature of that plotter, Robert Ferguson, and----""Nay, sir," I broke in desperately, like one who grasps at silken threads to save himself; "it surely is not proven yet--perchance some other----"In speaking I had moved a step towards my father, and now, as if to mock me and to prove his words, a something grated underneath my foot. Stooping, I picked it up; and holding it upon my outstretched palm, stared at it fixedly."'Tis proven now," I murmured."What's that?" rejoined my father, starting forward in his chair."The sign of Tubal Ammon," I replied, still gazing hard at what lay in my hand. "'Tis one of those small carven balls he did his trick with by the roadside. He has been here beyond a doubt.""I knew it, and no proof was needed," groaned my father, sinking back again. "And not only hath he robbed me, but he most likely heard and saw all that passed between us here this very morning. Oh, Michael, Michael! to think that you, my son, should thus have failed me!"He wrung his hands."Yes, yes! and I will make amends for it," I answered fiercely, as, hand on sword, I turned towards the door."Stay! whither go you?" cried my father."To seek this fellow out," I answered savagely. "To find him, and--to kill him.""Then save yourself the trouble," rejoined my father firmly. "Two follies never made a wise thing yet, and never will. And this were rankest folly. For, look you, this fellow Ammon will be far away by now; aye, verily, perchance aboard ship, making for his master.""Not so," said I, "for his master is already here in Lyme.""What!" cried the old man, springing to his feet. "Ferguson in England?""Yes, he landed with Monmouth here to-night." And in a few hot, breathless words I told him all that I had seen and heard that day; while he paced to and fro, now stopping for a moment, now spreading out his hands, and all the time casting wild, hunted glances round the room."Michael," he said when I had finished, "the bolt is shot, and nothing now can save me from the gallows; nay, verily, I feel the noose about my neck already.""No, no!" I cried out in my desperation. "Say not that. I cannot bear it. There is still hope that naught may come of it.""There--is--no--hope," replied my father, slowly. "Whatever comes of this rebellion, Ferguson will still have power to bring me to account--to crush me! Nor will he stay his hand. I know him well. To be avenged is very life to him. Yes, Ferguson the Plotter will have vengeance! There is no hope! Oh, why is this? Why have I lived to see this awful day?"Clenching his hands, he raised them high above his head, and stood before me thus--a haunting picture of despair and anguish, awful to remember. It seemed as though the hands were raised to curse me; but it was not so, for, as I stood there with bowed head, they came down gently on my shoulders."Michael," he said, "take not this thing too much to heart. You spoke truly--I have judged you harshly. The fault is mine, not yours; for had I not first trafficked with this Ferguson, for the sake of usury, for filthy lucre, this had not happened. Yes, yes, the fault is mine, and whatever evil comes of it, no harm shall come to you. I swear it. Forget my hasty words."A curse had been much easier to bear than this."Nay, sir, I will not have it so," I almost shouted. "The fault is mine. I have been faithless, as you said, and would now make amends for it. What can be done?""Hush!" said my father gently. "Naught can be done--to-night. I would think this matter over quietly, alone, here. Therefore, leave me, Michael; go to rest. We may see clearer in the morning. Good-night, my son!"Our hands met in a long, firm grip, even as they had done in the early morning of that selfsame day, when I had sworn strict secrecy concerning that which now, alas! through my unfaithfulness had thus been turned into a power of threatening danger.Going over to the fatal, mischief-working window, I slowly closed the tell-tale casement; then once more turned towards my father; and spite of all his efforts at concealment, I read within his eyes the awful words "Too late!" And so I left him.CHAPTER VIIThe PlottersSuch had been the throbbing interest and excitement of that eventful day, that I had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink--I had not thought of it--and now my only craving was for water. Of that I took a long, cold draught, then went up to my lonely bed-chamber. But not to rest; there could be no rest for me now!Pacing the room I thought bitterly of the state of things, and how different it might all have been but for my own surpassing carelessness; thought, too, of the old man who sat lonely and disconsolate below; of Tubal Ammon and his mischief-working master.Thus to and fro I went, I know not for how long, while shame and self-reproach hung close and heavy at my heels: but at every turn the hopelessness and desperation of my mind increased, until at length I could endure my thoughts no longer. The confines of that little chamber seemed to grow smaller and more suffocating every moment, until they were as those of some pestiferous dungeon in which I was a maddened prisoner. I must do something--take action, no matter how preposterous and wild--or lose my senses.Going over to the open window I stood there looking out across the bay. A cool sea breeze played most refreshingly upon my heated face; I drew it in with thankfulness.The tumult in the town had sunk to silence, the night was dark and still as death. Far off I saw the bobbing lanterns of the three black ships whose coming had so altered everything.It all seemed like a dream or ugly nightmare, and I was thinking so when suddenly I saw a tiny twinkling light upon the cliffs, it might be half a mile away. On this--I know not why, unless it was presentiment--my eyes became fixed in a fascinated stare. Who at such an hour ('twas now close on midnight) had business in so desolate and wild a spot? Barely had I asked the question, when another light, a trifle larger, blinked forth in answer, some distance from the first one. Even as I watched, they quickly drew together, got close enough to make them seem one light, and then were lost to me.Here, then, was what I craved for--chance of action! Some mystery was afoot there on the cliffs. I would endeavour to make out the nature of it.Recking nothing of the risks I ran, careless of everything save blessed movement, I stuck two loaded pistols in my belt, crept downstairs with a noiseless stealth, and left the house.If ever youth went forth blindfolded on a reckless, wild adventure, I surely was that youth; if ever mind was nearly bursting with a hare-brained folly, such certainly was Michael Fane's as he passed out into the darkness of that fateful night. Yet, had I been assured that Death himself was waiting to embrace me in his icy clasp, 'tis certain I would still have gone. Fate urged me on, nor did I need much driving.As I have said, the night was dark, the moon being hidden by a mighty bank of clouds: and naught was to be seen save here and there a twinkling light among the distant houses of the town, where doubtless some late sitters talked upon the happenings of that stirring day, or those engaged upon rebellion laid their plans. Thus I had nothing more than chance to guide me to the spot where the two tell-tale lights had drawn so close together and then vanished.Going full cautiously, stopping every now and then to listen, I crept across the open space which lay between me and the cliffs. Bush and bracken broke the ground at intervals, and thus, with no clear path discernible in such a darkness, it behoved me to move warily, lest by stumbling I might warn instead of catch.Thus going in and out among the shrubs and ferns, and ever moving like some beast of prey, I came at length upon the narrow path which runs along the cliff-top. There, beaten, and inclined to curse my foolishness, I stood straight up and listened.A rabbit scuttered somewhere close at hand, the sea moaned plaintively upon the shore below me, but not another sound was to be heard; it seemed, indeed, as though the silence whispered of my folly!Had, then, my eyes deceived me? Had a seething, maddened brain struck lights where no lights were! It seemed so; or, if not, the bearers of those lights had gone their way, for I was certain that I was not far from where they had thus strangely met and disappeared. Yes, truly, I was minded to call one Michael Fane a fool!Stay, though, what was that? A hundred yards or so away, across the scrub, I caught the sudden twinkle of a lantern. With bated breath I watched it for a moment, then, dropping down upon the ground, moved towards it like a slinking tiger. Scarcely had I started ere the light vanished just as quickly as it came, but that did not stop me. On hands and knees, feeling for every bush, I crawled on through the darkness. The cracking of the tiniest twig seemed like a gunshot to my anxious, straining ears, my tight-held breathing like the roaring of a grampus.So slow and stealthy were my movements that a score yards took near half as many minutes: and having covered double that without result except a good array of scratches, I had again begun to doubt my eyes and mutter at my folly, when, as I paused a moment to consider matters, a sound like that of humming voices reached me from ahead.Kneeling, I listened breathlessly, and with an eagerness as though my very life depended on the act, and yet, for all I knew, it might have been but poachers setting out their snares; therefore 'twould seem indeed as though black fate and dread presentiment went hand in hand that night.As near as I could tell, the voices came from a spot not far away, and straight ahead of me, but so low and muffled were they that 'twas no easy matter to judge rightly on this point.For a time I knelt there listening with all my might, first cocking this ear and then that, but all in vain--not one word reached me: the buzzing hum continued in a maddening fashion; indeed, it might have been a hive of droning bees for all that I could make of it.Down on all-fours I went again, and, with the sound to guide me, crawled towards it.Some twelve yards farther on I once more stopped to listen, and thus discovered that the talkers were on the far side of a ridge or hillock up which I had commenced to climb; and what was more, I made out that which stiffened me with dread, and set my heart off thumping like a hammer. For now I was near enough to separate the voices, low though they were, and one of them spoke in broadest Scotch--'twas Ferguson's; while the other there was no mistaking either--Tubal Ammon's!Digging my fingers deep into the turf, for very fear lest overmastering astonishment should cause me to exclaim and so betray myself, I paused a moment, then, with cat-like stealth, crept up the bank.'Twas a risky, daring business sure enough; the snapping of a twig, the rattle of a stone, and I had brought on me two desperate fellows, who would as soon take life as toss a penny. Still, as it seemed to me, 'twas worth a world of danger--nay, 'twas a stroke of glorious luck--to come thus on those two arch-plotters in their midnight tryst, catch them red-handed, as it were, and, perchance, confound them. And had I needed any goad to urge me forward (which I did not), there was the thought of him whom I had wronged, and who doubtless even then sat lonely and distracted in his study, brooding helplessly upon the dangers which beset him.Thus I crept up, foot by foot--nay, inch by inch were nearer to the mark, my going was so slow--until at last I was near enough to make out wellnigh every word as it was spoken. Then, stretched full length upon the cool, soft turf, I lay there with a thumping heart and listened, drinking in all I heard as greedily as ever thirst-parched man drank water."'Tis so, then," Ferguson was saying; "you come here to drive a hard and grievous bargain, eh?""Aye, truly," answered Ammon; "no words could put it better: a bargain--a hard and grievous bargain if you will.""And not to serve the godly cause?" whined Ferguson."Pish to your godly cause!" sneered Ammon. "I trow its value is the same to both of us--and that is money.""What's that?" returned the chaplain fiercely."Cold truth, and nothing else," replied the other. "Look you, Doctor Robert Ferguson, methinks we know each other well--at least 'tis time we did. You, for a groat, would kill a man; by the same token, so would I. Let that suffice us both. We came not here to warble sweet religion through our noses, but to bargain. Let us therefore to the business of the night, without more vain pretence, or, by the Lord, I will away and leave you wanting what you hoped to gain.""Enough!" groaned Ferguson. "A godless man is not to be persuaded of his evil-doing.""Nor yet beguiled," snapped Ammon."Tut, tut, no more of that. You named a price. Let's see, now" (here I heard him scratch his tousled wig), "was it not fifty guineas?""The godlessness is on your side, methinks, friend Ferguson," sneered Ammon. "For verily you have a lie upon your lips. Full well you know the price was double that.""What?" cracked Ferguson. "A hundr-r-ed guineas! Why, 'tis shee-r-r madness, man! Pr-r-e-poster-rous!" (His "r's" rolled like a drum.)"Nathless, 'tis my price," returned the other coldly."But, man, good man! I have not such a wicked price upon me!""Another lie! for verily I see your pockets bulging with it. Have a care, friend Ferguson, or it may well go higher still.""Nay, nay, that were impossible. Come, friend, let us bargain fairly. Say eighty guineas, and 'tis yours this instant.""A hundred guineas!" answered Ammon sharply, "and that also instantly, or verily I take the thing away with me for ever. Look you, friend Ferguson, for over half an hour we have sat parleying here, and still you clutch your filthy gold and strive to trick me of my due. Have I not risked my very life to get this paltry thing, and was not the price agreed upon between us? Aye, verily; and unless 'tis paid down now, before these lips of mine have counted ten, that which you crave is gone from you for ever. Methinks I might make more of it elsewhere. One--two----""Stay! the box is with you, is it?" asked the chaplain, as a man who clutches at a straw."Fool!" snapped Tubal Ammon. "Have I not told thee so at least a dozen times already. Three--four--five----""Then prove it! Let me see it. Thou hast not done that yet.""True, by my life, for once. Then here it is. Six----""Ah, my wee, black, bonny bairn! How dear thou wast to me! Wilt let me hold it, friend?""Yes, when the gold is counted out. Not till. Seven--eight. Nine!""Hast the key to it?""Nay, how should I? But 'tis easily forced open.""Then I must prove the contents ere I pay so vast a sum. That is but fair; for, look you, friend, the box might very well be empty.""'Tis not so," answered Ammon. "Listen!" He shook it, and I heard the fatal papers rustle."But other papers might have been put in," persisted Ferguson. "Therefore, I say, it must be proven. Burst it open, friend; but have a care in doing so, for verily I love it as a child."The love of Tubal Ammon for it did not seem to count for much, for, with what sounded like a savage crack, he forced the lock and dragged the papers forth."Ah, let me see them! Give them to me," said the chaplain eagerly."Nay, not so quick, friend Ferguson," quoth Ammon. "Not till the price is paid, that is. Mayst see them if you will, but nothing more. Look you, here they are!"I heard him smooth the parchments out; then caught the flicker of a lantern as he held it up for Ferguson to see them."What? there are three of them!" exclaimed the chaplain. "Well, that boots not. The one I want is there--the one you hold in front. Now, place them here betwixt us, underneath the box, while I count out thy most extortionate reward."He gave a cracking laugh, of which the other took no heed; then came the clink of slowly-counted gold, the counting of a usurer who weighed each piece and loathed to part therefrom. "Thou art a hard, tight-fisted fellow, Tubal Ammon," snarled Ferguson when all was ready. "Here, then, is thy hard-wrung price, and may the Lord requite thee for the taking of it from a man so poor as me!"Here Tubal Ammon laughed (or barked, were a truer name for it) and said:"'Tis well; now we are quits, methinks, for each hath what he sorely wanted. As for your poverty, most worthy chaplain, I would right gladly barter it for mine. Yea, friend, I always thought you rich, yet was not sure of it; and now that it is clearly proven--now I learn that thou art poor! Enough; we never know the truth.Docendo discimus. Pardon such faulty Latin. But, what say you, shall we now let go a psalm upon the night? Truly, our voices are a trifle cracked, but yet methinks 'twould make a fine duetto. Hark you! Like this--join in!"He raised a rasping, high-pitched voice, and sang a note or two."Stop, fool!" hissed Ferguson. "Wouldst bring danger on us? We know not who may be in earshot of such owlish screeching! Art clean daft?""Nay, only wondrous happy," answered Ammon."Yes, and why?" growled Ferguson. "Because, like Shylock, thou hast claimed thy pound of flesh?""Yea, verily, and got it; which is much more to the point.""Yes, got it," quoth the chaplain bitterly. "Wrung it from me like the clutching Jew you are. Let that suffice, and add not gibe to injury.""Ah, no! was ever miser yet who could bear parting with his gold, no matter how it had been earned?" sighed Ammon mockingly."The devil take thee!""Nay, I am his already--thanks to thee, most godly chaplain.""Provoke me not too far," hissed Ferguson. "I am not to be trifled with. You know me well, friend Ammon.""Yes, verily, I know you far too well.""Then keep your rasping tongue still. There was more inside the box than I had bargained for; and I would scan these papers carefully in peace.""And by the same token, sir," mocked Ammon, "I would fain count my money, lest, haply, thou hast overpaid me. Thus are we quits again."Here, then, I had the real Tubal Ammon, so different from the sly, tale-telling wretch whom I had met beside the road; and here also was the real Ferguson. But of him I had already known so much that his present character seemed quite in keeping with my knowledge of him.And now the crackling of parchment and chink of gold was all that reached my ears.I lay there listening for a while, and then an overmastering desire came over me to look upon these workers of iniquity. Next moment I was moving like a serpent up the bank, holding my breath and fearful lest the very thumping of my heart might give the scoundrels warning and undo me.At last I gained the ridge, and, having paused a moment, took a cautious peep beneath a little bush. And there I saw a sight indeed. 'Twas worth the risk. The rays of a lantern, set within a cleft, fell on the wicked, red-blotched face of Ferguson, as he sat there, with knees drawn up wellnigh to his chin, poring over his ill-gotten gain; it fell, too, on the evil, cunning face of Tubal Ammon, as, crouching low, he counted up his money with a greedy care. And, midway between them lay the rifled box. Never have I seen a sight more diabolical, and 'tis, perhaps, small wonder that the thought came rushing to my mind: Two Satans, with the light of Hades on them!From my hiding-place behind the bracken I stared at them like one bewitched, till Ammon, having dropped the last gold-piece into a leathern pouch, glanced up at his companion. Then, fearing lest he might arise, I ducked my head and drew back down the bank a foot or two."Right to a single piece," quoth Tubal, jingling the pouch."I knew that well enough," growled Ferguson. "Have you a piece of cord wherewith to fasten up the box?""Yes, by my life, here is the very thing," replied the other. "Truly my usefulness exceeds all reckoning."The chaplain murmured something which I did not catch, then, as it seemed to me, he folded up the papers, placed them in the box, and having tied the cord around it, said:"And now to further business, friend.""With all my heart; name it, I pray you," answered Tubal Ammon."These Fanes, then; you have seen them both?""Yes, more than once. Moreover, the coxcomb of a son I have twice come near killing.""Ah, and what kind of man is he?""A great big lusty fellow, over six feet high. I owe him much, and will repay it. Yea, verily, his days are numbered.""See thou to that. 'Tis no concern of mine. I have no quarrel with the son. But the old man, the father, Ammon" (here he lowered his voice into an ugly whisper), "he who robbed me--str-r-uck me down--I would have vengeance on that man. Yea, I would have him swept from off the earth. Canst do it?""Yes, easily.""How, then? By pistol, bullet, or by knife?""Neither. I have a softer way than those, though no less sure.""What's that?""Why, look you," answered Ammon, after fumbling in his coat, "see here--this tiny bow and arrows; things for boys to play with, say you? And yet a prick from one of them would kill the strongest man within an hour. Naught could save him, for they are dipped in deadliest poison.""No, no! away with them! away with them!" cried Ferguson. "I could not think of it. 'Twere cruel, heathenish, nay, worse, 'twere rankly wicked!""Then, verily, our sense of wickedness is far from tallying, friend," sneered Ammon. "Killing is killing, as it seems to me, and the way of doing it makes little difference.""Yes, but poison, friend, poison, I say, were cruel, heathenish; any way but that!""Well, we will leave the way, then. You want this man, this Gilbert Fane--well, let us say, removing. Is that so?""Yes; for not only do I hate him, but I also fear him somewhat.""And you would have me do it for you?""Yes.""Then I will do it--at a price.""Price!" snapped Ferguson. "Oh, thou grasping, greedy fellow. Doth not the hundred guineas cover this small extra service also?""Nay, by life it doth not," answered Ammon slowly. "One bargain doth not drive a second.""Well, well," groaned Ferguson. "What is your price, then? Name it.""Ten guineas.""What!" almost shrieked the chaplain. "Ten guineas just to kill a man?""Yes, and a low price too. I run great risk in doing it.""Oh, thou extortioner! thou greedy leech! But, come, 'tis surely but a jest. Say five and I am with thee.""Ten guineas.""Eight.""Ten.""No, no! I will not pay a sum so wicked.""Then Gilbert Fane lives on for all I care, and with him, as you just now showed, your fear and hatred of the man.""O Lord!" sighed Ferguson, "when will this cruel bleeding of me cease? Right well hast thou been named, thou godless, grasping Jew; for was not Tubal one of Shylock's friends? But, say, if I agree with thee, when wilt thou wipe this fellow off the earth? The Duke rides forth from Lyme within a day or two, and I would be assured that Gilbert Fane is dead before I leave. What, then?""He shall be dead before this time to-morrow," answered Tubal Ammon firmly."But what proof shall I have that it is so?""Good proof, sure proof, a proof there can be no gainsaying.""Name it, then.""The key that fits that box," replied the other slowly. "It hangs by a ribbon round his neck. I saw it as I watched him through the window. That will I bring as proof.""Enough, then; 'tis a bargain. Bring me that key and I will pay thy cruel, wicked price. And now let me away before I am clean ruined."Here both men rose; but now it was my turn. Throughout their foul plotting my blood had risen pell-mell, till now, with the dastardly completion of their bargain, 'twas surging through me like a burning flood, which drowned all power of reasoning, and seemed to make me someone that I knew not. 'Twas wildly, madly planned, I know--nay, 'twas not planned at all. I had done better to have crept up to the ridge and tried to shoot them thence without their knowing it. I had done ten times better still, to have used the knowledge I had gained to save my father and gone off silently, leaving those thrice-accursed fellows in their ignorance. I see that clearly now. But then the power to reason, plan, nay, even think, had clean forsaken me; while as for caution, danger, fear--I knew them not. One fierce, ungovernable wish was mine--namely, to kill these would-be murderers of my father and regain the box.Drawing a pistol from my belt I rose suddenly and sprang upon the ridge. Ferguson had just picked up the lantern, but now he flung it far away, and uttering one loud, whelping cry of terror, fled off--with both hands raised above his head--into the night. I took a flying shot at him, but all in vain, for he had vanished ere I pulled the trigger.'Twas far different with Tubal Ammon; snatching up his money-bags he leapt back with a ringing oath, and there I could just make him out, a dim, black, post-like blotch amid the darkness. In haste I whipped the other pistol from my belt.
[1] The Cobb did not then, as now, join the land, but was out off from it at high water.
Pushing through the throng, I gained a spot near Dassell and the Mayor, and added two more eyes to those already fixed upon the ships, which had now come to anchor in the bay.
"Well, well, what make you of it now?" I heard the Mayor ask Dassell anxiously.
"Rank mischief," snapped the deputy.
"What's to be done, then?"
"Naught can be done, sir. The time for doing has gone by. Had I had my way, the scoundrels should have answered long ago, or been the heavier by some cannon-balls. But now it is too late. We can do naught save watch."
The Mayor groaned aloud; the councillors behind him stared like frightened sheep; but no one had a helpful word to offer.
And so we stood and watched; watched till our eyeballs ached; watched till the sinking sun caught all three vessels in a dazzling glare and made them stand out black as ink, like things of ugly fate. Then, just on sunset, we heard a great commotion on the ships; the ring of sharply-given orders, the hurried tread of feet upon the decks, the creak of pulleys--all these reached us clearly across the smooth, still waters. As for seeing, the glare of sun was all too blinding, and the ships too far away, for us to make out anything beyond a dim, blurred mass of swiftly-moving forms which showed above the bulwarks.
"What is it, think you, Dassell?" asked the Mayor in a fearful, gusty whisper.
"Lowering boats on the off side, I fancy, sir," replied the deputy, as calm as though he had been speaking of the weather.
"Boats!" gasped Gregory Alford, raising his hands. "Boats! What! do you mean to say they're going to land?"
"I fancy so," said Dassell. "Nay, I am certain sure of it!" he added, raising his voice and pointing. "Hark! here they come!"
Even as he spoke we heard the splash of many oars; and presently five great boats laden with men, and with the captured King's boat following, drew from behind the ships.
At first they seemed to be making for the Cobb itself, but passing that by they swung round to the west of it and headed straight for shore. On seeing this we all ran pell-mell down to the sea. Heavens! how the shingle flew beneath our feet, and what a breathless, anxious crowd it was which gathered near the water! Verily, it seemed as if all Lyme stood waiting. Men, women, children, young and old were there, yet scarce a word was spoken; all eyes were fixed upon those sweeping oars, which brought we knew not what towards us. There was silence on the water, too--no sound save the creak and splash of oars; and I have oft thought since, when standing on that fateful spot, that perchance some dread presentiment of future ill hung over both the comers and the watchers!
The boats drew nearer, until at length we could make out a thick array of sword-hilts, pistol stocks, and muskets. Then, indeed, the crowd buzzed with excitement, and glancing at the Mayor I saw that he fairly quaked with fear, and that his face was deathly white. He tried to speak to Dassell, but he could not.
But there was little time to think of Master Alford, for now the foremost boat had grounded on the shingle, and in a twinkling those aboard were leaping for the shore. Some reached it dry-shod, others jumped short and splashed into the water; but one and all were quickly on the beach. For the most part they were white-wigged, fine-dressed gentlemen, with swords at their sides and pistols in their belts, while many carried muskets also.
They took no heed of us, save that one of them, who seemed to be a leader, turned, and holding up his hand, bade us fall back to make more room--the which we straightway did.
[image]THE LANDING OF THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH
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THE LANDING OF THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH
Meanwhile the other boats had drawn close in, and those aboard were leaping shoreward with a will. Eighty odd in all I counted. In the stern of the last boat a man sat all alone. He was arrayed in purple and a big plumed hat, with a single glittering star upon his breast, and wore a jewel-hilted sword. When all else had landed, and he came forward to the bows to follow, someone ran back into the sea, and, uncovering, made a knee for him, in order that he might not wet his feet, and with a gracious bow of thanks he stepped lightly from it to the shore. And then I knew him; for notwithstanding that five years had left some mark upon it, there could be no mistake about that face of almost girlish beauty: and as he stood there for a moment in the slow of the sunset methought it was small wonder that the common people worshipped him.
"Monmouth!"
At first the magic word sped through the crowd from mouth to mouth in startled whispers; then, suddenly, as though by one consent, a great shout rent the air:
"A Monmouth! A Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!"
Again and yet again the ringing cry uprose, until the grey old cliffs behind us seemed mad with echoes; then, as the last shout died away, a voice which sounded like a puling child's after such tumult broke out upon the outskirts of the throng:
"Traitors! Treason!"
Looking round that way I saw good Master Gregory Alford speeding for the town as fast as two fat legs could carry him, his coat-tails flying wide upon the wind.
Verily the Mayor of Lyme had proved full bitterly that high estate is apt to have its drawbacks; and also that "A Certain Person" had made no bad choice of landing-places.
The drums and town guard had already disappeared; so also had friend Dassell.
CHAPTER V
The Man with the King's Evil
'Twas plain to see by the glowing look upon his handsome face how touched the Duke was by these joyous acclamations. Doffing his hat he bowed both graciously and long; then, as he raised his hand for silence, a sudden hush fell on the eager throng before him.
"Dear friends," said he, in a voice that rang out clear and sweet upon the stillness, "I thank you more than words can tell for the thrice-hearty welcome ye have given me back to that country from which, as ye know, I have so long been exiled. Dear people, this is neither time nor place for speech-making, but as for the reason of my coming--well, methinks the cries which just now fell upon mine ears proclaim how thoroughly ye are aware of it. Truth, like good wine, needs little bush, and certainly those words of yours rang true as Spanish steel; for verily, dear friends, I am Monmouth, your Monmouth, son of your late beloved King, the champion of that Protestant religion which ye hold so dear, and of those liberties which are the very birthright of our country."
At this another mighty shout went up of "Monmouth! our Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!" and while the air still rang with it, a woman, well advanced in years, ran from the crowd, and kneeling at the Duke's feet, caught up his hand and kissed it. At first he started back, then, having looked keenly at her face, raised her tenderly and kissed her on the cheek.
It turned out afterwards that she was some old servant who had known him when a boy; and you may be sure that this gracious act endeared him still more greatly to the simple-hearted folk who witnessed it. Indeed, it seemed as if they were all bent on following the ancient dame's example, for with a loud, glad cry the crowd surged towards the Duke, and had not those about him held them back he must have been wellnigh pressed into the sea.
Then Monmouth once more raised his hand for silence.
"Good people all," said he, "ere we set forth upon our enterprise I would have you join in giving thanks to God for merciful deliverance vouchsafed us from the King's ships while at sea."
Uncovering, the Duke knelt down upon the shore, and nearly all the rest did likewise.
To me he seemed to pray both well and earnestly, and none the less so for that his prayer was short. Ah, how little did we think just then that in a few short months many of us would hear prayers and speeches on that very spot from lips which would soon be closed for ever!
On either side of Monmouth knelt two men, who, by the look of them, might also well have let go a prayer, for both were dressed as ministers. He on the right was short and stout, with a rounded, happy face. His eyes and mouth were tightly closed; his hands were clasped before him. The man upon the left was tall and bony, with a face that ill accorded with his garb, being sharp and crafty, and, as I found out when he turned it suddenly towards the glowing sky, blotched scarlet with king's evil. A tousled wig hung down upon his forehead, and beneath it two small villainous black eyes went to and fro as though they were on wires. Throughout the prayer he never ceased to rub his bony hands together like one who washed; while, ever and anon, he jerked forth hallelujahs through his nose. I knew him not from Adam then (I was to know him all too well thereafter!), but, verily, I hated him upon the spot.
Prayer being ended, the Duke unsheathed his sword, and holding it high above his head, cried:
"I draw this weapon in the cause of liberty and true religion, and may God bless the work that lies before us!"
A loud "Amen!" broke from the crowd, and Monmouth said:
"Forward, and let those who are well disposed towards us follow!"
Then Monmouth's men formed up in double file, a blue flag was unfurled, in front of which the Duke took up his place, with a fine-dressed gentleman on either side of him; then those of our townsmen who had the courage of their voices (some hundred odd) fell in behind, and so they all went marching to the market-place.
Here beneath the flag, which bore the motto,Pro religione et libertate, a proclamation was read aloud by the lanky, black-eyed minister, whose evil looks had struck me so upon the shore; and as he read he fell at times into the broadest Scotch, which it is quite beyond me to describe. Moreover, what he read was far too long to set down here. Suffice it to say that 'twas one long indictment of the King (or, as they put it, James, Duke of York), charging him, among other crimes, with having poisoned his brother, the late King Charles, and ending with these words:
"Now let us play the men for our people, and for the cities of our God; and the Lord do that which seemeth good unto Him."
While the reading of this long tirade was going forward I sought some information.
"Who are those two fine-dressed men who stand on either side the Duke?" I asked of a sour-faced fellow at my elbow.
"Those are Monmouth's generals," he answered with a snivel. "He on the right is Lord Grey of Wark, of whom I cannot say much; but he on the left is Master Fletcher of Saltoun, a man well skilled in carnal warfare, a godly man to boot."
"Ah, and that round-faced minister who tries to look so solemn and yet cannot. Who is he?"
"'Tis Master Hooke, the Duke's private chaplain, a worthy man, I trow, though somewhat Popish of appearance."
Just then the reader of the declaration turned himself to get a better light, and the setting sun fell full upon his blotched, scorbutic cheek and made it look as though 'twere stained with blood.
I gazed upon him spellbound for a moment, then I asked:
"And prithee, who is he that reads?"
The voice of my informant dropped into a solemn whisper, as though 'twere something sacred that he spoke of, as he answered:
"That is Doctor Robert Ferguson, chaplain to Monmouth's army, and a terror to all workers of iniquity."
On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and barely saved myself from crying out.
"What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"
The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with angry eyes.
"Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay, Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"
But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.
On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith, bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout, nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been imprisoned by the Mayor.
Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the grey-haired Anabaptist minister.
"There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of Master Gregory Alford!"
I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager, others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every lip, and each new-comer added to the din.
Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly, steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty, startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.
Just then the mare turned round her pretty head to look at me, and neighed again.
"Is this thy mare?" asked he who held the bridle.
"Well--yes," I answered; "at least, that is, I thought it was; but now it seems as though I must have been mistaken."
"Thou hast a mocking tongue, young man," whined he who held the lantern.
"Yet that were surely better than a thieving hand," quoth I.
"What mean you?" he asked, taking a step towards me.
"Exactly what I say," I answered slowly. "In other words, you are a pair of sneaking thieves."
At that each laid a hand upon his sword and eyed me fiercely, while he with the light came forward in a threatening fashion.
"We are no thieves," he hissed, showing his yellow teeth. "We claim thy mare for the cause."
"And, prithee, what cause is that?" I asked.
"The cause of liberty and truth," whined he.
"The cause of Monmouth, eh?"
He nodded frowningly.
"Then," said I, "if liberty and truth go hand in hand with thieving, may God help the Duke! Let go that bridle," I added, striding up to the fellow who had laid a hand on it again.
He hesitated for a moment, glaring upon me with a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes; but, though only eighteen years, I topped him by a good three inches, and doubtless my face told tales besides. Growling something anent "godless upstarts" he drew back sulkily and joined his comrade by the door which he had closed. And there they stood muttering together and casting ugly glances at me.
Turning Kitty round, I took her bridle on my arm and moved towards them.
"Open that door," I said, "and let me pass."
But they were two to one, and odds give courage even unto cowards. Whipping out their swords they set themselves against the door.
"You leave that horse or go not," said one.
"Aye, verily," quoth the other.
Stopping, I also drew my sword and said:
"Ah! say you so? Listen; do you know that I have but to call, and half a score good friends will come to teach you honesty? Again, I say, open that door and let me pass."
"Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the cause to boot."
There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes, 'twas my only chance!
"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!"
"Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?"
"Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open that door with right goodwill."
"Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other. "Whom doth it concern?"
"One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.
At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel.
"Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"
I nodded, though more than doubtful of the godliness; and he added:
"Why, then, didst not tell us this before, friend?"
"What now!" I shouted with a show of anger as I sheathed my sword. "Am I, then, to cry my business out to every brace of thieves I meet?"
"You speak with heat, not knowing," whined the lantern-bearer. "Verily, we are no thieves, but honest fighters for the cause, seeking horses, which are sorely lacking. And if we had known the nature of thy business, we----"
"Fool!" I broke in fiercely. "Cease thy prating, and open that door at once, or methinks 'twill be the worse for you. One word of this delay to Dr. Ferguson, and----"
Back flew the door, and, as I moved slowly forward, the opener of it laid a trembling hand upon my arm, saying:
"Pray you, sir, get not two honest fellows into trouble. 'Twas done in ignorance."
"I will consider that," I answered sternly, striding beside my mare into the yard with great relief. Truly, one Ferguson had served my purpose handsomely!
Turning to the left, in order to avoid the crowded yard, I passed down a well-known entry, and so came out into a dark and now quite deserted street.
"That was a narrow squeak, old girl," I whispered, stroking Kitty's silken neck, and, as though she understood, the pretty creature whinnied gently. Then I mounted, and away we fled for home.
In view of what had happened at the stable, I judged it best to keep as far as possible to by-ways; and so, instead of going through the town (the nearest road), I struck into a narrow, high-banked lane with sheltering trees on either side.
'Twas now dusk. Far off I heard the tumult of the town, rising and falling in a ceaseless hum; but here all seemed silent and deserted. Yet, even so, it was not long before I proved that Monmouth's men were guarding even such unlikely avenues; for just as Kitty, with a hill before her, dropped into an easy trot, I suddenly made out a group of fellows gathered near the top, beneath the shadow of a tree.
This was plaguy awkward, but yet more so when, as I drew nearer, they spread themselves across the road, and I made out they were armed with muskets. Still, there was nothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter; so, bringing Kitty to a walk, I went forward whistling carelessly, and had come within fifty yards of them, when one, who seemed to be a leader, stepped out, and holding up his hand, cried:
"Stop! Thy name and business, friend!"
At that I pulled up the mare, and shouted back:
"What's that you say?"
Fingering his musket-lock, he came a few steps nearer me, and bawled:
"Thou'rt somewhat hard of hearing, friend. I said, Thy name and business? Prithee, give both quickly."
"My name is of small account," I answered; "and for my business, know that it concerns one Robert Ferguson."
That name had done so well for me before, that I could think of nothing better; but, alack! it failed me this time.
"That will not serve thee, friend. 'Tis not sufficient," quoth the man sternly. "If thy business indeed concerns our chaplain, show thy pass, or give the watchword."
"Aye, verily! thy pass or watchword," sang another who had now come up with him.
Here, truly, was an ugly state of things. To turn and flee might mean a musket-ball for me or Kitty. I thought a moment. Yes, to surprise them was my only chance.
"The watchword, say ye? Yes, with all my heart."
So saying, I bent forward in the saddle, and, pressing my knees upon the mare's flanks, spoke softly to her. She gave an angry snort, down went her ears, and next instant she was rushing forward like a mad thing.
'Twas all so sudden that, for the nonce, those valiant keepers of the road were utterly confounded. With startled cries, they broke and fled towards the banks. Yet barely was I past them ere a musket-shot rang out, and a ball sang dangerously near my head. Another and another followed, but by that time I was beyond their reach.
Not till I was well past Uplime did I draw rein; then, pulling up beside a little wood, I stopped to breathe and think. Truly, my mare and I had already had a taste of what rebellion meant. A few short hours had made our quiet roads unsafe for honest men. "'Tis a pretty thing," I muttered, "if a fellow cannot ride home peacefully without the danger of a pistol bullet through his head. If this be the way of 'honest Protestants', then give me Popery! The sooner I am at The Havering, the better."
With that I turned my horse, and, entering a lonely lane, which, as it seemed, was certain to prove empty, cantered on my way. But I had not gone far before I overtook some half-score fellows who were hurrying Lymewards. As they drew aside to let me pass, I reined up suddenly and scanned their faces. They were heavy, lumbering yokels, farm hands for the most part, and several were known to me.
"Well, and whither go you?" I asked.
"Up over, into Lyme," said they, "to join the Duke o' Monmouth. Hast not heard the news, sir?"
"Yes, I have heard it right enough," I answered; "but, if you would be warned in time, go home again, for methinks your present way leads straight to hanging."
Their mouths fell open at my words, and for a moment there was silence; then one of them, a big-limbed fellow, cried:
"A Monmouth! Down with Popery! The Protestant religion!"
The others joined in lustily, and so I left them and rode on. Alack! I was to see three of those simple-minded rustics dangling from a rope-end in the days to come!
On drawing near Hay House (a lonely place), where lived the Mayor of Lyme, I saw a horse come out into the road, with two men on it, riding double.
This seemed so strange that I must needs pull up to look at them, and so, as they came abreast of me, I found the foremost one was Dassell. Both had swords and pistols.
"What now?" said I.
"Hush!" said he. "The very trees have ears to-night. I ride to raise the country on these rebels--to Crewkerne first--and friend Thorold here goes with me."
"Yes, but why ride ye so?" I asked.
"Because there is no other way," he answered, smiling grimly. "'Tis certainly a heavy beast--a coach-horse surely; but 'twill serve, methinks. At any rate, 'twas the only horse in Master Gregory's stable."
"And is the Mayor at home?"
"Nay, there is no one save his sister. All his men have joined the rebels. The Mayor fled long ago to Exeter, to warn the Duke of Albemarle."
"And save his skin!" said I. "Well, have a care. The roads are guarded, and 'tis but a chance that I am not the heavier by a bullet."
"Ah! is that so?" quoth Dassell, glancing at his pistols.
"It is," said I, and, wishing them God-speed, rode on my way.
On reaching home I found the yard deserted, and so, vowing vengeance on our truant fellows, I led Kitty to the stable. There I had removed her harness, fed and watered her, when I heard a footstep just outside; and turning, found my father standing in the doorway with a lantern in his hand.
"Is that you, my son?" he asked, in a voice which methought was strange and hollow.
"Yes, sir," I answered, and was about to start forth on a full account of all that I had seen and heard, when, as my father raised the light, I noticed that his face was deathly white, and that his eyes were full of fear, a look which I had never seen in them before. Then, and not till then, I thought of Tubal Ammon, and the guarding of the window.
"What is it, sir?" I asked with great anxiety.
"Come, quickly, Michael," he replied, and turning, led the way towards the house.
He took me straight into the study, where one glance sufficed to prove that something bad had happened. The window, a pane of which above the fastener had been broken, lay wide open; papers were littered on the floor; while with a thrill of fear, I noticed that my mother's portrait was displaced.
"Father, what is wrong?" I asked, turning to the spot where he stood staring at me in dumb, frightened fashion.
He made no answer, but going over to the secret panel, opened it, and pointed to a darkened corner.
With trembling hand I took a candle from the table, and, kneeling, looked inside.
The Black Box was not there!
CHAPTER VI
"Too Late"
When I glanced up, amazed and stupefied, it was to find my father's eyes fixed on me with a look that I shall ne'er forget. 'Twas one of fear, and bitterness, and deep reproach. For a moment I was stricken dumb, then, scarce knowing what I said, I gasped:
"Gone! How?"
My father waved a hand towards the window, and, in a low voice, answered:
"You have failed me, Michael."
I did not, could not answer him, and so he went on in the same low, crushing voice:
"Yes, Michael, you have failed me utterly. You have placed your father in the shadow of the gallows."
Those words to me were like the plunging of a knife into my heart. Shame, self-reproach, could silence me no longer.
"Sir!" I cried, springing to my feet, and facing him with tight-clenched hands, and burning cheeks, "you judge me harshly! I did not fail you willingly! I----"
"You did not get my letter, then?" he put in sternly.
"Yes, sir, I got your letter, but other stirring things clean drove it from my mind."
"And, pray, what stirring things are those?"
"Why, hast not heard the news?"
"I have heard naught. I have not long returned, and though methought I heard a sound of some commotion in the town, I took but little heed. My thoughts were far away. My friend is dead. But, say, what news is that which made you fail your father?"
"Duke Monmouth landed here, at Lyme, to-night!"
With one deep, sobbing groan, my father staggered back into a chair, and there sat, limp and helpless, like a man bereft of reason.
"Monmouth--landed--here--at--Lyme!" he gasped at length. "Then are we utterly undone, and both may look upon the gallows as our own. For, verily, the words I spake this morning are now proven. He who hath thus put us into jeopardy is in truth a creature of that plotter, Robert Ferguson, and----"
"Nay, sir," I broke in desperately, like one who grasps at silken threads to save himself; "it surely is not proven yet--perchance some other----"
In speaking I had moved a step towards my father, and now, as if to mock me and to prove his words, a something grated underneath my foot. Stooping, I picked it up; and holding it upon my outstretched palm, stared at it fixedly.
"'Tis proven now," I murmured.
"What's that?" rejoined my father, starting forward in his chair.
"The sign of Tubal Ammon," I replied, still gazing hard at what lay in my hand. "'Tis one of those small carven balls he did his trick with by the roadside. He has been here beyond a doubt."
"I knew it, and no proof was needed," groaned my father, sinking back again. "And not only hath he robbed me, but he most likely heard and saw all that passed between us here this very morning. Oh, Michael, Michael! to think that you, my son, should thus have failed me!"
He wrung his hands.
"Yes, yes! and I will make amends for it," I answered fiercely, as, hand on sword, I turned towards the door.
"Stay! whither go you?" cried my father.
"To seek this fellow out," I answered savagely. "To find him, and--to kill him."
"Then save yourself the trouble," rejoined my father firmly. "Two follies never made a wise thing yet, and never will. And this were rankest folly. For, look you, this fellow Ammon will be far away by now; aye, verily, perchance aboard ship, making for his master."
"Not so," said I, "for his master is already here in Lyme."
"What!" cried the old man, springing to his feet. "Ferguson in England?"
"Yes, he landed with Monmouth here to-night." And in a few hot, breathless words I told him all that I had seen and heard that day; while he paced to and fro, now stopping for a moment, now spreading out his hands, and all the time casting wild, hunted glances round the room.
"Michael," he said when I had finished, "the bolt is shot, and nothing now can save me from the gallows; nay, verily, I feel the noose about my neck already."
"No, no!" I cried out in my desperation. "Say not that. I cannot bear it. There is still hope that naught may come of it."
"There--is--no--hope," replied my father, slowly. "Whatever comes of this rebellion, Ferguson will still have power to bring me to account--to crush me! Nor will he stay his hand. I know him well. To be avenged is very life to him. Yes, Ferguson the Plotter will have vengeance! There is no hope! Oh, why is this? Why have I lived to see this awful day?"
Clenching his hands, he raised them high above his head, and stood before me thus--a haunting picture of despair and anguish, awful to remember. It seemed as though the hands were raised to curse me; but it was not so, for, as I stood there with bowed head, they came down gently on my shoulders.
"Michael," he said, "take not this thing too much to heart. You spoke truly--I have judged you harshly. The fault is mine, not yours; for had I not first trafficked with this Ferguson, for the sake of usury, for filthy lucre, this had not happened. Yes, yes, the fault is mine, and whatever evil comes of it, no harm shall come to you. I swear it. Forget my hasty words."
A curse had been much easier to bear than this.
"Nay, sir, I will not have it so," I almost shouted. "The fault is mine. I have been faithless, as you said, and would now make amends for it. What can be done?"
"Hush!" said my father gently. "Naught can be done--to-night. I would think this matter over quietly, alone, here. Therefore, leave me, Michael; go to rest. We may see clearer in the morning. Good-night, my son!"
Our hands met in a long, firm grip, even as they had done in the early morning of that selfsame day, when I had sworn strict secrecy concerning that which now, alas! through my unfaithfulness had thus been turned into a power of threatening danger.
Going over to the fatal, mischief-working window, I slowly closed the tell-tale casement; then once more turned towards my father; and spite of all his efforts at concealment, I read within his eyes the awful words "Too late!" And so I left him.
CHAPTER VII
The Plotters
Such had been the throbbing interest and excitement of that eventful day, that I had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink--I had not thought of it--and now my only craving was for water. Of that I took a long, cold draught, then went up to my lonely bed-chamber. But not to rest; there could be no rest for me now!
Pacing the room I thought bitterly of the state of things, and how different it might all have been but for my own surpassing carelessness; thought, too, of the old man who sat lonely and disconsolate below; of Tubal Ammon and his mischief-working master.
Thus to and fro I went, I know not for how long, while shame and self-reproach hung close and heavy at my heels: but at every turn the hopelessness and desperation of my mind increased, until at length I could endure my thoughts no longer. The confines of that little chamber seemed to grow smaller and more suffocating every moment, until they were as those of some pestiferous dungeon in which I was a maddened prisoner. I must do something--take action, no matter how preposterous and wild--or lose my senses.
Going over to the open window I stood there looking out across the bay. A cool sea breeze played most refreshingly upon my heated face; I drew it in with thankfulness.
The tumult in the town had sunk to silence, the night was dark and still as death. Far off I saw the bobbing lanterns of the three black ships whose coming had so altered everything.
It all seemed like a dream or ugly nightmare, and I was thinking so when suddenly I saw a tiny twinkling light upon the cliffs, it might be half a mile away. On this--I know not why, unless it was presentiment--my eyes became fixed in a fascinated stare. Who at such an hour ('twas now close on midnight) had business in so desolate and wild a spot? Barely had I asked the question, when another light, a trifle larger, blinked forth in answer, some distance from the first one. Even as I watched, they quickly drew together, got close enough to make them seem one light, and then were lost to me.
Here, then, was what I craved for--chance of action! Some mystery was afoot there on the cliffs. I would endeavour to make out the nature of it.
Recking nothing of the risks I ran, careless of everything save blessed movement, I stuck two loaded pistols in my belt, crept downstairs with a noiseless stealth, and left the house.
If ever youth went forth blindfolded on a reckless, wild adventure, I surely was that youth; if ever mind was nearly bursting with a hare-brained folly, such certainly was Michael Fane's as he passed out into the darkness of that fateful night. Yet, had I been assured that Death himself was waiting to embrace me in his icy clasp, 'tis certain I would still have gone. Fate urged me on, nor did I need much driving.
As I have said, the night was dark, the moon being hidden by a mighty bank of clouds: and naught was to be seen save here and there a twinkling light among the distant houses of the town, where doubtless some late sitters talked upon the happenings of that stirring day, or those engaged upon rebellion laid their plans. Thus I had nothing more than chance to guide me to the spot where the two tell-tale lights had drawn so close together and then vanished.
Going full cautiously, stopping every now and then to listen, I crept across the open space which lay between me and the cliffs. Bush and bracken broke the ground at intervals, and thus, with no clear path discernible in such a darkness, it behoved me to move warily, lest by stumbling I might warn instead of catch.
Thus going in and out among the shrubs and ferns, and ever moving like some beast of prey, I came at length upon the narrow path which runs along the cliff-top. There, beaten, and inclined to curse my foolishness, I stood straight up and listened.
A rabbit scuttered somewhere close at hand, the sea moaned plaintively upon the shore below me, but not another sound was to be heard; it seemed, indeed, as though the silence whispered of my folly!
Had, then, my eyes deceived me? Had a seething, maddened brain struck lights where no lights were! It seemed so; or, if not, the bearers of those lights had gone their way, for I was certain that I was not far from where they had thus strangely met and disappeared. Yes, truly, I was minded to call one Michael Fane a fool!
Stay, though, what was that? A hundred yards or so away, across the scrub, I caught the sudden twinkle of a lantern. With bated breath I watched it for a moment, then, dropping down upon the ground, moved towards it like a slinking tiger. Scarcely had I started ere the light vanished just as quickly as it came, but that did not stop me. On hands and knees, feeling for every bush, I crawled on through the darkness. The cracking of the tiniest twig seemed like a gunshot to my anxious, straining ears, my tight-held breathing like the roaring of a grampus.
So slow and stealthy were my movements that a score yards took near half as many minutes: and having covered double that without result except a good array of scratches, I had again begun to doubt my eyes and mutter at my folly, when, as I paused a moment to consider matters, a sound like that of humming voices reached me from ahead.
Kneeling, I listened breathlessly, and with an eagerness as though my very life depended on the act, and yet, for all I knew, it might have been but poachers setting out their snares; therefore 'twould seem indeed as though black fate and dread presentiment went hand in hand that night.
As near as I could tell, the voices came from a spot not far away, and straight ahead of me, but so low and muffled were they that 'twas no easy matter to judge rightly on this point.
For a time I knelt there listening with all my might, first cocking this ear and then that, but all in vain--not one word reached me: the buzzing hum continued in a maddening fashion; indeed, it might have been a hive of droning bees for all that I could make of it.
Down on all-fours I went again, and, with the sound to guide me, crawled towards it.
Some twelve yards farther on I once more stopped to listen, and thus discovered that the talkers were on the far side of a ridge or hillock up which I had commenced to climb; and what was more, I made out that which stiffened me with dread, and set my heart off thumping like a hammer. For now I was near enough to separate the voices, low though they were, and one of them spoke in broadest Scotch--'twas Ferguson's; while the other there was no mistaking either--Tubal Ammon's!
Digging my fingers deep into the turf, for very fear lest overmastering astonishment should cause me to exclaim and so betray myself, I paused a moment, then, with cat-like stealth, crept up the bank.
'Twas a risky, daring business sure enough; the snapping of a twig, the rattle of a stone, and I had brought on me two desperate fellows, who would as soon take life as toss a penny. Still, as it seemed to me, 'twas worth a world of danger--nay, 'twas a stroke of glorious luck--to come thus on those two arch-plotters in their midnight tryst, catch them red-handed, as it were, and, perchance, confound them. And had I needed any goad to urge me forward (which I did not), there was the thought of him whom I had wronged, and who doubtless even then sat lonely and distracted in his study, brooding helplessly upon the dangers which beset him.
Thus I crept up, foot by foot--nay, inch by inch were nearer to the mark, my going was so slow--until at last I was near enough to make out wellnigh every word as it was spoken. Then, stretched full length upon the cool, soft turf, I lay there with a thumping heart and listened, drinking in all I heard as greedily as ever thirst-parched man drank water.
"'Tis so, then," Ferguson was saying; "you come here to drive a hard and grievous bargain, eh?"
"Aye, truly," answered Ammon; "no words could put it better: a bargain--a hard and grievous bargain if you will."
"And not to serve the godly cause?" whined Ferguson.
"Pish to your godly cause!" sneered Ammon. "I trow its value is the same to both of us--and that is money."
"What's that?" returned the chaplain fiercely.
"Cold truth, and nothing else," replied the other. "Look you, Doctor Robert Ferguson, methinks we know each other well--at least 'tis time we did. You, for a groat, would kill a man; by the same token, so would I. Let that suffice us both. We came not here to warble sweet religion through our noses, but to bargain. Let us therefore to the business of the night, without more vain pretence, or, by the Lord, I will away and leave you wanting what you hoped to gain."
"Enough!" groaned Ferguson. "A godless man is not to be persuaded of his evil-doing."
"Nor yet beguiled," snapped Ammon.
"Tut, tut, no more of that. You named a price. Let's see, now" (here I heard him scratch his tousled wig), "was it not fifty guineas?"
"The godlessness is on your side, methinks, friend Ferguson," sneered Ammon. "For verily you have a lie upon your lips. Full well you know the price was double that."
"What?" cracked Ferguson. "A hundr-r-ed guineas! Why, 'tis shee-r-r madness, man! Pr-r-e-poster-rous!" (His "r's" rolled like a drum.)
"Nathless, 'tis my price," returned the other coldly.
"But, man, good man! I have not such a wicked price upon me!"
"Another lie! for verily I see your pockets bulging with it. Have a care, friend Ferguson, or it may well go higher still."
"Nay, nay, that were impossible. Come, friend, let us bargain fairly. Say eighty guineas, and 'tis yours this instant."
"A hundred guineas!" answered Ammon sharply, "and that also instantly, or verily I take the thing away with me for ever. Look you, friend Ferguson, for over half an hour we have sat parleying here, and still you clutch your filthy gold and strive to trick me of my due. Have I not risked my very life to get this paltry thing, and was not the price agreed upon between us? Aye, verily; and unless 'tis paid down now, before these lips of mine have counted ten, that which you crave is gone from you for ever. Methinks I might make more of it elsewhere. One--two----"
"Stay! the box is with you, is it?" asked the chaplain, as a man who clutches at a straw.
"Fool!" snapped Tubal Ammon. "Have I not told thee so at least a dozen times already. Three--four--five----"
"Then prove it! Let me see it. Thou hast not done that yet."
"True, by my life, for once. Then here it is. Six----"
"Ah, my wee, black, bonny bairn! How dear thou wast to me! Wilt let me hold it, friend?"
"Yes, when the gold is counted out. Not till. Seven--eight. Nine!"
"Hast the key to it?"
"Nay, how should I? But 'tis easily forced open."
"Then I must prove the contents ere I pay so vast a sum. That is but fair; for, look you, friend, the box might very well be empty."
"'Tis not so," answered Ammon. "Listen!" He shook it, and I heard the fatal papers rustle.
"But other papers might have been put in," persisted Ferguson. "Therefore, I say, it must be proven. Burst it open, friend; but have a care in doing so, for verily I love it as a child."
The love of Tubal Ammon for it did not seem to count for much, for, with what sounded like a savage crack, he forced the lock and dragged the papers forth.
"Ah, let me see them! Give them to me," said the chaplain eagerly.
"Nay, not so quick, friend Ferguson," quoth Ammon. "Not till the price is paid, that is. Mayst see them if you will, but nothing more. Look you, here they are!"
I heard him smooth the parchments out; then caught the flicker of a lantern as he held it up for Ferguson to see them.
"What? there are three of them!" exclaimed the chaplain. "Well, that boots not. The one I want is there--the one you hold in front. Now, place them here betwixt us, underneath the box, while I count out thy most extortionate reward."
He gave a cracking laugh, of which the other took no heed; then came the clink of slowly-counted gold, the counting of a usurer who weighed each piece and loathed to part therefrom. "Thou art a hard, tight-fisted fellow, Tubal Ammon," snarled Ferguson when all was ready. "Here, then, is thy hard-wrung price, and may the Lord requite thee for the taking of it from a man so poor as me!"
Here Tubal Ammon laughed (or barked, were a truer name for it) and said:
"'Tis well; now we are quits, methinks, for each hath what he sorely wanted. As for your poverty, most worthy chaplain, I would right gladly barter it for mine. Yea, friend, I always thought you rich, yet was not sure of it; and now that it is clearly proven--now I learn that thou art poor! Enough; we never know the truth.Docendo discimus. Pardon such faulty Latin. But, what say you, shall we now let go a psalm upon the night? Truly, our voices are a trifle cracked, but yet methinks 'twould make a fine duetto. Hark you! Like this--join in!"
He raised a rasping, high-pitched voice, and sang a note or two.
"Stop, fool!" hissed Ferguson. "Wouldst bring danger on us? We know not who may be in earshot of such owlish screeching! Art clean daft?"
"Nay, only wondrous happy," answered Ammon.
"Yes, and why?" growled Ferguson. "Because, like Shylock, thou hast claimed thy pound of flesh?"
"Yea, verily, and got it; which is much more to the point."
"Yes, got it," quoth the chaplain bitterly. "Wrung it from me like the clutching Jew you are. Let that suffice, and add not gibe to injury."
"Ah, no! was ever miser yet who could bear parting with his gold, no matter how it had been earned?" sighed Ammon mockingly.
"The devil take thee!"
"Nay, I am his already--thanks to thee, most godly chaplain."
"Provoke me not too far," hissed Ferguson. "I am not to be trifled with. You know me well, friend Ammon."
"Yes, verily, I know you far too well."
"Then keep your rasping tongue still. There was more inside the box than I had bargained for; and I would scan these papers carefully in peace."
"And by the same token, sir," mocked Ammon, "I would fain count my money, lest, haply, thou hast overpaid me. Thus are we quits again."
Here, then, I had the real Tubal Ammon, so different from the sly, tale-telling wretch whom I had met beside the road; and here also was the real Ferguson. But of him I had already known so much that his present character seemed quite in keeping with my knowledge of him.
And now the crackling of parchment and chink of gold was all that reached my ears.
I lay there listening for a while, and then an overmastering desire came over me to look upon these workers of iniquity. Next moment I was moving like a serpent up the bank, holding my breath and fearful lest the very thumping of my heart might give the scoundrels warning and undo me.
At last I gained the ridge, and, having paused a moment, took a cautious peep beneath a little bush. And there I saw a sight indeed. 'Twas worth the risk. The rays of a lantern, set within a cleft, fell on the wicked, red-blotched face of Ferguson, as he sat there, with knees drawn up wellnigh to his chin, poring over his ill-gotten gain; it fell, too, on the evil, cunning face of Tubal Ammon, as, crouching low, he counted up his money with a greedy care. And, midway between them lay the rifled box. Never have I seen a sight more diabolical, and 'tis, perhaps, small wonder that the thought came rushing to my mind: Two Satans, with the light of Hades on them!
From my hiding-place behind the bracken I stared at them like one bewitched, till Ammon, having dropped the last gold-piece into a leathern pouch, glanced up at his companion. Then, fearing lest he might arise, I ducked my head and drew back down the bank a foot or two.
"Right to a single piece," quoth Tubal, jingling the pouch.
"I knew that well enough," growled Ferguson. "Have you a piece of cord wherewith to fasten up the box?"
"Yes, by my life, here is the very thing," replied the other. "Truly my usefulness exceeds all reckoning."
The chaplain murmured something which I did not catch, then, as it seemed to me, he folded up the papers, placed them in the box, and having tied the cord around it, said:
"And now to further business, friend."
"With all my heart; name it, I pray you," answered Tubal Ammon.
"These Fanes, then; you have seen them both?"
"Yes, more than once. Moreover, the coxcomb of a son I have twice come near killing."
"Ah, and what kind of man is he?"
"A great big lusty fellow, over six feet high. I owe him much, and will repay it. Yea, verily, his days are numbered."
"See thou to that. 'Tis no concern of mine. I have no quarrel with the son. But the old man, the father, Ammon" (here he lowered his voice into an ugly whisper), "he who robbed me--str-r-uck me down--I would have vengeance on that man. Yea, I would have him swept from off the earth. Canst do it?"
"Yes, easily."
"How, then? By pistol, bullet, or by knife?"
"Neither. I have a softer way than those, though no less sure."
"What's that?"
"Why, look you," answered Ammon, after fumbling in his coat, "see here--this tiny bow and arrows; things for boys to play with, say you? And yet a prick from one of them would kill the strongest man within an hour. Naught could save him, for they are dipped in deadliest poison."
"No, no! away with them! away with them!" cried Ferguson. "I could not think of it. 'Twere cruel, heathenish, nay, worse, 'twere rankly wicked!"
"Then, verily, our sense of wickedness is far from tallying, friend," sneered Ammon. "Killing is killing, as it seems to me, and the way of doing it makes little difference."
"Yes, but poison, friend, poison, I say, were cruel, heathenish; any way but that!"
"Well, we will leave the way, then. You want this man, this Gilbert Fane--well, let us say, removing. Is that so?"
"Yes; for not only do I hate him, but I also fear him somewhat."
"And you would have me do it for you?"
"Yes."
"Then I will do it--at a price."
"Price!" snapped Ferguson. "Oh, thou grasping, greedy fellow. Doth not the hundred guineas cover this small extra service also?"
"Nay, by life it doth not," answered Ammon slowly. "One bargain doth not drive a second."
"Well, well," groaned Ferguson. "What is your price, then? Name it."
"Ten guineas."
"What!" almost shrieked the chaplain. "Ten guineas just to kill a man?"
"Yes, and a low price too. I run great risk in doing it."
"Oh, thou extortioner! thou greedy leech! But, come, 'tis surely but a jest. Say five and I am with thee."
"Ten guineas."
"Eight."
"Ten."
"No, no! I will not pay a sum so wicked."
"Then Gilbert Fane lives on for all I care, and with him, as you just now showed, your fear and hatred of the man."
"O Lord!" sighed Ferguson, "when will this cruel bleeding of me cease? Right well hast thou been named, thou godless, grasping Jew; for was not Tubal one of Shylock's friends? But, say, if I agree with thee, when wilt thou wipe this fellow off the earth? The Duke rides forth from Lyme within a day or two, and I would be assured that Gilbert Fane is dead before I leave. What, then?"
"He shall be dead before this time to-morrow," answered Tubal Ammon firmly.
"But what proof shall I have that it is so?"
"Good proof, sure proof, a proof there can be no gainsaying."
"Name it, then."
"The key that fits that box," replied the other slowly. "It hangs by a ribbon round his neck. I saw it as I watched him through the window. That will I bring as proof."
"Enough, then; 'tis a bargain. Bring me that key and I will pay thy cruel, wicked price. And now let me away before I am clean ruined."
Here both men rose; but now it was my turn. Throughout their foul plotting my blood had risen pell-mell, till now, with the dastardly completion of their bargain, 'twas surging through me like a burning flood, which drowned all power of reasoning, and seemed to make me someone that I knew not. 'Twas wildly, madly planned, I know--nay, 'twas not planned at all. I had done better to have crept up to the ridge and tried to shoot them thence without their knowing it. I had done ten times better still, to have used the knowledge I had gained to save my father and gone off silently, leaving those thrice-accursed fellows in their ignorance. I see that clearly now. But then the power to reason, plan, nay, even think, had clean forsaken me; while as for caution, danger, fear--I knew them not. One fierce, ungovernable wish was mine--namely, to kill these would-be murderers of my father and regain the box.
Drawing a pistol from my belt I rose suddenly and sprang upon the ridge. Ferguson had just picked up the lantern, but now he flung it far away, and uttering one loud, whelping cry of terror, fled off--with both hands raised above his head--into the night. I took a flying shot at him, but all in vain, for he had vanished ere I pulled the trigger.
'Twas far different with Tubal Ammon; snatching up his money-bags he leapt back with a ringing oath, and there I could just make him out, a dim, black, post-like blotch amid the darkness. In haste I whipped the other pistol from my belt.