Mine Hostess, a plump but not uncomely dame, with a merry eye, sat in her cosy bar, surrounded by quaint flagons and other emblems of her hospitable calling. She returned a cheerful answer to Robin's greeting, and inquired his pleasure."You have a kindly face, and I'll be sworn a heart to match, fair Goddess of the Grape," said Robin. "Will you help two hapless lovers, separated by cruel fate?""That depends on what I am to help them to," she retorted. "Mine's a respectable house, and I'd rather have dealings with lawyers than lovers.""I want but a trifling service from you, though 'tis a vast favor to me," said Robin. "Will you take charge of this letter, and by and by give it to the serving-man of Mistress Larkyn, whose name is writ upon it?""Oh! if that's all," she said, extending a hand that was plump and shapely, if not over-clean. Robin seized the hand and touched it gallantly with his lips, before surrendering the letter to its clasp. After that, although she called him an "impudent varlet," and made as though to box his ears, he might have asked a much greater favor without danger of rebuff.When they went out again, Robin cast the green cloak about him, and strode along with an air that made more than one peaceable citizen give him the footway all to himself. As they entered Lincoln's Inn Square, this became still more marked, and in front of one of the finest houses, he stopped and looked round with an insolent swagger that greatly impressed a group of men loitering under a tree near by.Double could not quite conceal his dissatisfaction, and pulling his client by the sleeve, whispered that the men looked like constables in plain clothes, and that they could hardly fail to recognize him when he came out, if, as seemed probable, they were waiting there for him."Let them stare their fill," said Robin. "I wish them to become thoroughly acquainted with Robin Freemantle's appearance." And he walked slowly up the steps into the house.In an up-stairs room, Lord Beachcombe and his lawyer awaited them. Robin left his swashbuckling manners in the anteroom, where Samuel was relieved of his bag and left to the congenial society of two or three clerks.Lord Beachcombe returned Robin's courteous greeting with a haughty movement that was scarcely a salute, the two lawyers met with friendly formality, tape-tied papers were produced, and the conference began."I understood," said the earl, addressing his attorney, "that the person who calls himself Robert Gregory de Cliffe would be present to-day.""Have patience, my Lord, he will be here in good time," interposed Mr. Double. "Have you examined the attested copies, Mr. Perry?""I have, and to avoid waste of time, I am prepared to admit that they appear to contain interesting family matters, highly interesting. Not that they would be of much legal value if you brought the case before the courts, but enough to cause some annoyance to my client. We have shown that we consider it worth examining into the affair, by obtaining the pardon of this"—he glanced at Robin—"this gentleman.""And also by taking the precaution of having a warrant ready for my arrest on another charge," said Robin, quietly but incisively.Mr. Perry glanced at Lord Beachcombe, and their eyes met with the same inquiry, "How can he know?""Had you kept faith with me," said Robin, bending his stern gaze upon Beachcombe, "this matter could have been settled in a few minutes. As it is, I have decided not to put the two most important documents in your hands until I am in a place of safety.""Traitor!" exclaimed Beachcombe, striking the table with his clenched fist. "I knew he would devise some means to balk me!""If you talk of traitors, did you not purpose to get everything you wanted from me, and then put my head back in the noose?" demanded Robin. "Such a cat-and-mouse game is not so easy to play with a man who has carried his life in his hand through every kind of danger—even to the gallows'-foot—even through treachery, though that is less common among gentlemen of the road than some other kinds of gentlemen. In exchange for my life, I will give you, as I promised, the original letters that passed between your father and his first wife, the original documents proving the identity of both parties, and thecopiesof the marriage certificate and the death certificate that proveyourmother's marriage a fraud.""Oh! this villain will drive me mad!" screamed Lord Beachcombe. "Let me go, Perry; must I kill you to get at him?""Be calm, my Lord, I beg you," urged the lawyer, very red in the face from his efforts to restrain his client; "this matter can be arranged without violence, if you will leave it to me. Mr.—a—Captain—a—Freebooter, pray address any remarks to me. You will only impede the negotiation by provoking Lord Beachcombe.""Here are the original letters and documents," said Mr. Double, advancing to the table, "we will go over them together." The lawyers went to work together, comparing, arguing and quibbling, as though the whole matter had not been settled in advance.Robin, meantime, strolled to the window, where he observed one of the loitering men in conversation with a furtive man in black, with a pen stuck in his rusty wig. He stealthily pointed Robin out when he appeared at the window, and then darted back to the house like a rat into its hole."These letters appear genuine," said Mr. Perry finally, "but they are valueless to us without the two certificates.""They are worth as much to you as your pledge of safety is to me," returned Robin. "Why should you expect to feel safe from me, while I am still in danger from you? That was not the compact. The hour that I set my foot on a foreign shore in safety, I will cut the last thread that binds me to the past, but those two papers will never be yours, Lord Beachcombe, until it is out of your power to injure me. I have given my word, and I will keep it. My title in exchange for my life; your legitimacy in exchange for my safety.""I knew it—I felt it!" cried Beachcombe. "This fellow himself is the arch-impostor.""Impostor!" said Robin, with a contemptuous laugh, as he stood up and pointed to the earl. "Nature has cast us in the same mold; God be praised that her work is only skin-deep. Double, you have the late earl's picture in that bag; pull it out, and let us see on which of his sons he printed off the best likeness of himself."Mr. Double drew forth a roll of canvas, that bore evidence of having been hastily cut from the frame."My father's picture!" cried Beachcombe, recognizing it with amazement. "How came it in your possession?""It fell into my hands," said Robin dryly, "when I was lately in the North Country. I thought it might be useful, so I brought it away with me.""You mean, I suppose, that you stole it from Beachcombe Castle," snapped the earl."How could I steal my own? Beachcombe Castle is entailed upon the eldest son, and I inherited it from my father, as the son just born to you will doubtless inherit it from you if nothing untoward happens to me. You ought to pray heartily for my welfare, my Lord, until I am safely landed in—America. Still, I am not dependent upon the picture of a dead man for proofs of identity. I can bring twenty living witnesses to prove that I am the son of Mrs. Vincent, whose marriage to Captain Gregory de Cliffe I can prove by documents and other valuable evidence.""You will give up the two certificates if Lord Beachcombe pledges his word that you will be allowed to leave England unmolested, will you not?" inquired Mr. Perry insinuatingly."I will not," replied Robin firmly."Well, then—I urge this matter because my lord will have a long period of suspense to endure before he receives those documents, and without impugning your good faith, it is possible they might fall into the wrong hands after all—will you give them up if Lord Beachcombe gives you a written guarantee that you will be safe, so far as he can protect you?""I do not value his written guarantee one farthing," said Robin contemptuously. "Given an hour's start, I am ready to take my chance of escape from any lawyer or traitor of you all. But I've a reason for wishing to remain in London for the next few days, and I'll not give up the one thing that enables me to do it in safety."Beachcombe sprang to his feet. "I have stood this insolence long enough!" he exclaimed. "You—an outlaw, a convicted robber, dare to spurn my word!—refuse to acceptmywritten promise! Pray, what will satisfy you?""Oh! if you wish to offer me satisfaction, 'tis quickly settled," cried Robin. "To cross swords with your lordship will give me the utmost pleasure, and let him who draws the first blood dictate the terms of truce."Beachcombe sneered, but he was not a coward, and his fingers almost involuntarily wandered to his sword-hilt."Gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried the lawyer. "This is no time or place for fighting; besides, if there is anything in your story, Captain—Freebooter—the curse of Cain would be on the one who shed the other's blood.""Will the one who hires somebody else to shed the other's blood, escape the curse of Cain?" sternly inquired Robin. "If we can not settle this business like gentlemen, let us get it over as quickly as possible. It will not be difficult, I dare say, to find some better occasion for a meeting."In a great hurry, Mr. Perry read over a legal document, renouncing on the part of "the person claiming to be Robert Gregory de Cliffe and his descendants for ever," all titles, estates entailed or otherwise, and other belongings appertaining to the Beachcombe family in all its ramifications, in consideration of one thousand pounds over and above all expenses of his transportation to a foreign land, or any place outside of the British Isles, that he might select for his future abode. The above to be paid to him on signing this deed, and to constitute a full satisfaction for every claim, past, present and future.Robin listened with scant patience to the monotonous repetition of legal terms by which every contingency was forestalled and provided for. Then he requested Mr. Double to peruse it, in case there might be snares or hidden meanings in it. Two clerks were called in to witness the bold signature of Robert Gregory de Cliffe, and finally, Mr. Perry counted out one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, as compensation for Robin's claim to an inheritance worth twenty thousand a year, two hundred more for his expenses in leaving the country, and certain sums to Mr. Double for his services. Lord Beachcombe showed very little interest in this part of the transaction, but sat biting his nails and fingering his sword-hilt.Mr. Perry drew Mr. Double aside, and made one last attempt to convince him that it would be greatly to the interest of all parties if he could persuade his client to surrender the two documents of whose value he held so exaggerated an estimate. Meantime, Robin strolled up to the window, arranging his beaver with great nonchalance, and throwing the end of the cloak over his shoulder, so as to display the red lining.He observed that the loitering men had drawn together, and numbered about half-a-score, armed with stout bludgeons and still more deadly weapons. Near them, under the trees, a ragged urchin walked Lord Beachcombe's horse slowly up and down, hopeful of a bounteous douceur from the noble patron who had kept him so long waiting."Now, Captain," said Mr. Double, "I am at your service."Robin walked to the door, and removing his beaver, swept so low a bow, that he dropped it on the floor."Farewell, Mr. Perry,—you will hear from me—from foreign parts. My Lord Beachcombe—adieu."The lawyer, who had already assumed an air of preoccupation with other matters, returned the bow with ceremonious frostiness. Lord Beachcombe did not even turn his head. Consequently, neither of them saw Robin kick his own hat out of the way and help himself to one that lay on a chair near the door."Give me five minutes start," he whispered to Double, as he quickly disengaged himself from the green cloak and threw it into a dark corner of the stairway. When he emerged from the front door, a dignified gentleman in a plum-colored riding-coat and black velvet cavalier hat with a long, drooping ostrich feather, he looked as little as possible like the roystering blade who had been seen a few minutes before at the upper window. He signed to the boy with the horse, and mounting without haste, threw him a shilling and beckoned to the chief of the posse of constables."You had better bring your men on this side of the street," he said imperiously; "don't give the fellow time to get away or you will never catch him again. And, mind—dead or alive!"The man knuckled his hat obsequiously. "Yes, m' Lud," he said, with something the air of one bulldog being egged on to attack another. "Them's my orders."Robin gave him a curt word, and rode out through the gateway leading into Chancery Lane. When he was out of sight, he gave rein to his horse, and taking to the network of narrow lanes that lay between the Strand and the river, made off with the utmost speed toward Westminster.CHAPTER XIIITHE SEALED PACKETMr. Double did not hurry after his client, but gave him a good ten minutes' start, while he made Samuel search the blue-bag for some imaginary papers, and then, bidding him shoulder his hated burden, went forth, much reassured by the absence of commotion in the Square.The posse had collected outside the house, and eyed the lawyer and his clerk suspiciously. There was a moment of expectation as they recognized the companions of their quarry, but Double and his satellite were not molested, and at a short distance they separated, and Samuel pursued his westward way alone. He did not go far, but leaving his bag in charge of a friendly law-stationer, scurried back to Lincoln's Inn, and slipping through the constables, ran up-stairs and knocked timidly at the door of Mr. Perry's private sanctum."What do you want here, fellow?" demanded Perry, opening the door and discovering the little, cringing, shabby figure shrinking into the shadow. "This is not the clerk's office.""Could I—can I—speak a word with the—the lord?" stammered Samuel.Mr. Perry looked very searchingly at him for a minute or so. Then he relaxed a little and made room for him to pass into the room, which he did, smoothing his flaxen wig over his forehead with his moist palm, and evidently in a desperately uneasy frame of mind."Do you want to speak to Me?" demanded Lord Beachcombe, in a haughty voice, that sounded so terrible to the clerk, that he could hardly stammer out, "Y—yes.""And what have you to say?" inquired Mr. Perry, in a more encouraging tone. "Speak out, man, don't be frightened; nobody will hurt you.""Ah! but he would, if he knew," quavered Samuel, jerking his thumb over his shoulder."You mean Mr. Double? I suppose you want to tell us something he is concealing from us, eh? Well, we will protect you from him," said Mr. Perry magnanimously."'Tis not so much him I'm afraid of as the captain," whispered Samuel, glancing from side to side, as though he expected to see him lurking somewhere about. Then he approached Lord Beachcombe on tiptoe. "What will you give me if I get you those certificates?""Damnation!" cried Beachcombe, starting up, black with fury; "are my private affairs known to every quill-driver in the town?"Samuel turned livid with terror. "I only know where they are," he whimpered; "I don't know anything about them.""Well, where are they?" demanded Beachcombe threateningly.A glint of cunning sparkled in Samuel's eye. "It wouldn't be any use for me to tell your lordship where they are. No one can get at them but me, and as I shall be suspected, it's worth a good deal for the risk I run—if the certificates are any use to your lordship.""How do you know what certificates these are, if you say you don't know anything about them?" interposed Mr. Perry."Because I heard the captain tell Mr. Double that he could afford to let Lord Beachcombe have everything else, so long as he kept the two certificates back. So he put them where nobody knows but himself and Double and me. And he'll have them out if I don't hurry and get there first.""You need not be uneasy about that," said Beachcombe, with a grin of malicious joy. "Captain Freemantle is on his way to Newgate Prison by now, and if those—papers—find their way into my possession, I think it is safe to say that he will never come out except to make the journey to Tyburn.""On his way to Newgate?" cried the little clerk, rubbing his hands with glee. "Then, if we can agree on the price, your lordship can have them in an hour.""If you bring them to me—without reading them—in an hour, I will give you ten guineas," said Lord Beachcombe magnificently."Ten guineas!" echoed Samuel, with a falling countenance. "They can not be so very important, after all, if that's all they're worth.""How much did you expect?" demanded Beachcombe, who hated parting with his money, and was still writhing under the agony of having had to disburse so considerable a sum already over this affair."Considering the risk, I think I ought to have a hundred pounds," pleaded Samuel, trembling at his own audacity."A hundred devils!" growled Beachcombe; "do you think I am made of money?""It's well worth it, my Lord," urged Samuel. "You don't know the risk I run, even if the captain is in jail. And why wouldn't he get out? He's been there before and cheated the hangman; he's as artful as a fox, and has more friends than you and I know of."Beachcombe reflected a while. "Well, bring the documents to my house and you shall have the hundred pounds. But if you ever betray the slightest knowledge of them, it will be worse for you than if the captain, as you call him, escaped from prison and came after you with all his friends.""They're in a sealed packet, my Lord, and if I break the seal you can keep your money," said Samuel, growing bolder, as a confederacy in dishonor brought the haughty peer nearer to his level. Beachcombe signified his acceptance of the compact and walked over to the window, while Mr. Perry gave Samuel instructions how to make sure of the packet falling into no other than the right hands."God's death!" Beachcombe suddenly exclaimed, in so strange a voice, that the others hurried to the window and looked anxiously out to see what had befallen. The street was perfectly quiet. A couple of barristers, with their gowns tucked up, stood talking and laughing, a street vendor shouted the praises of his wares, a slatternly woman, with a baby in her arms and another clinging to her skirt, lounged under the trees opposite, and the group of constables, still expectant, chewed straws and spat them out in the gutter, with the utter absence of hurry so frequently observed in men whose time is owned and paid for by the government. Nothing else was in sight."What are those men waiting for?" roared Beachcombe. "Is that scoundrel hiding in this house? Call them in, Perry, and make them search every corner. By Heaven! if you have let him slip through your fingers—""Do you mean the captain?" asked the trembling clerk. "He went out half an hour ago, just before me and Mr. Double.""And no one stopped him? He passed through the constables unchallenged? It is collusion; they shall hang for it. Give me my hat, Perry—"Samuel flew to obey, and after a brief search, emerged from beneath a table with a somewhat weather-beaten beaver, turned up with a silver buckle.Beachcombe dashed it from his hand. "That is not mine!" he shouted; "that is the one that fellow wore when he came in. He has left it behind and taken mine; he has used it as a disguise, and those idiots have been taken in by it—" He flung out of the room, and the next minute was heard furiously cursing and berating the crestfallen constables, who, taking him for their long-awaited prey, sprang upon him as soon as he appeared, and but for the speedy interference of Mr. Perry, would have handled him roughly.The men fell back in confusion as the situation dawned upon them. This the real lord? Then who was the haughty and self-important personage who had ridden away from them so coolly after issuing orders with such an air of authority?"You shall sweat for this!" cried Beachcombe. "Where is my horse?"No one seemed able to answer this question. The men glanced from one to another, and the mysterious crowd that springs up from the roadside when there is any excitement, began to collect. Some one suggested that a gentleman in a black hat and feather had been seen riding out of the Square, on a fine chestnut horse, and a murmur from the crowd confirmed the statement.By this time, Lord Beachcombe had become speechless with rage. He signed to a passing chair, and getting in bareheaded, pulled the curtains close, and departed without a valedictory greeting.After a visit to Bow Street which gave promise of a warm quarter of an hour to the constables on their return, Beachcombe hurried to his house, overlooking St. James' Park, to await Samuel's visit, and concoct plans by which Robin should not only be arrested, but brought to an ignominious and lingering death. Torture was supposed to have been abolished in those days, but treason was still punishable by drawing and quartering, and while the country was still astir with Jacobite plots, the charge of treason might easily be fastened on any man who could not readily account for his comings and goings.The day passed slowly, for Lord Beachcombe, shut up in his study, gave orders that no visitor should be admitted except the lawyer's clerk. Once possessor of the proofs—if proofs they were—of the shadow upon his birth, he could set his heel without fear upon the throat of this miscreant who claimed to be his brother. His brother—! hiselderbrother—! The shrill cry of the baby-heir smote upon his ear, and goaded him to such a madness of impotent fury that if Samuel could have seen him then and known the cause of the furrow on his brow and the blood upon his bitten lip, he might have made his own terms and become rich for life.In the afternoon, a groom came to say that his lordship's horse had been brought to the stable by a ragged boy, who had made off before he could be questioned."What condition was he in? Had he been ridden fast or far?" Lord Beachcombe inquired eagerly."Hadn't turned a hair, my Lord," was the reply; "might 'a' been for a canter round the Park."Beachcombe went to the stable himself to make inspection, but could discover no mark or sign to enlighten the most sharpsighted. "Oh! if you could speak!" he muttered, as he caressed the glossy coat and deer-like head of his favorite. "If you could tell me where you have been these three hours!"But there was nothing to be learned; not so much as could be shown by a muddy fetlock. If the horse had been out of town, he had been carefully groomed on his return and every trace of travel removed. His master returned to the house, more morose and vengeful than ever, to while away the hours that slowly passed until it was time to dress for the great entertainment at Marlborough House.When he descended from his wife's apartments, where he had gone to display himself in his masquerade dress, he was certainly a magnificent and picturesque figure. His costume, of the period of Charles II., was of white satin, profusely trimmed with exquisite lace, and adorned with dazzling orders and jewels. A wig of long curls softened the harsh outline of his face, and a skilful touch of rouge relieved his swarthy pallor and lent a brilliancy to his dark eyes. His resemblance to Robin was remarkable enough then to have struck the most unobservant.Over his arm he carried a voluminous domino of scarlet silk, and a mask to match dangled from his jeweled fingers.He was stepping into his carriage, when a little black figure darted in front of him, and Samuel, bowing to the very ground before this gorgeous apparition, besought a word with him."Leave him alone," cried Beachcombe, as two or three serving-men stepped forward to sweep this insect from their master's path. "Have you anything important to say to me?" he eagerly inquired."Most important, your worship—I mean your Lordship," replied Samuel. "I've got it; only just now, though, and I've run every step of the way," and he showed a corner of the letter hidden in his breast."Give it to me," said Beachcombe, in a low, concentrated voice, and held out his hand for it. But Samuel hung back."My Lord—my Lord—" he stammered, clutching the packet like a drowning man grasping a straw, "will you give me my hundred pounds?""What, now; before I see the papers? Besides, I've not so much about me," exclaimed Beachcombe. "Why, you imp of the devil, are you afraid to trust me? Here, take my purse and give me that packet. I must have itnow, do you hear? And come to me to-morrow for your hundred guineas."And before Samuel could make up his mind what to do, he found himself standing alone with a silken purse, full of golden guineas, in his hand, and the precious packet being whirled away from him in the earl's chariot.Lord Beachcombe, with the packet tightly clutched in his hand, gave way to a reverie so pleasant and absorbing that he did not notice a slight additional jar in the jolting of the carriage over the ill-paved street. The cause of the jar was the sudden accession of two outside passengers; one on the box beside the coachman, and the other beside the lackey behind. Each of these functionaries, at the same instant, felt the cold contact of a pistol against his ear, and before they could make any outcry, the carriage was going in a different direction.A touch of the whip sent the horses forward at breakneck speed. "Keep quiet and you are safe," said the stranger on the box, and in a moment he slipped over the coachman's head a bag that served both to gag and blindfold him. The same operation was performed simultaneously upon the footman. Very soon, they turned sharply under an archway, and a heavy gate was slammed behind them.Leaving the coachman on the box, his captor got off and opened the carriage door."Descend here, Lord Beachcombe," he said, holding up a lantern, which revealed a tall man in a mask and behind him an open door."What is the meaning of this outrage?" demanded Beachcombe, fumbling at his sword. The masked man, with very little ceremony, hauled him out of the carriage, and disregarding a strenuous resistance, conducted him into a small room, barely furnished and dimly lighted. He then saw that his assailant was almost as richly dressed as himself, and wore a jeweled star and other decorations of great splendor."What am I brought here for?" he asked, in a more subdued tone, for as his fear of robbery subsided in these surroundings, the fact that he had many and bitter enemies rose up before him."No harm unless you bring it upon yourself," replied the other. "At worst, an hour or two's detention and solitude and the loan of your invitation to the duchess' masquerade.""Your voice sounds familiar to me," said Lord Beachcombe. "Will you not remove your mask, now that we are alone?" The other hesitated. "Is it worth while to keep up this mystery, Captain Freemantle? You see I recognize you.""Since you know me, it is not worth while," replied Robin, unmasking. As he did so, Beachcombe whipped out his sword and rushed upon him. Robin had no time to arm himself, but dodging the onslaught with the agility of a cat, closed upon his assailant with a clever wrestling trick that threw him upon his back half-stunned, and before he could recover, had his hands securely tied behind his back with his gold-fringed sash."Youwouldhave it!" said Robin. "Now I can—" his eye fell upon a packet that had fallen from Beachcombe's hand, with the superscription upward:"To Mistress Larkyn,"In care of Mine Hostess of"The Fox and Grapes."He picked it up and turned it over, examining the unbroken seals, and glancing from time to time at his captive."So you found a traitor in the camp," he said, at last. "Let him beware—but, tush! I know who it is; it can be no other than Samuel. I need not interfere with him; he will find his own way to the gallows soon enough. I'm afraid I shall have to search you, my friend. You may as well take it quietly; you know I'm an expert at discovering hidden treasure."Lord Beachcombe, however, would not submit quietly, so Robin bound him securely to a chair and instituted a rigorous search, which revealed nothing except the emblazoned note of invitation to the ball. So, warning his prisoner that any outcry would lead to rough treatment from those who were left in charge of him, Robin withdrew, taking with him the packet and the invitation, and also Beachcombe's sword and the lamp, and leaving him to darkness and reflection.CHAPTER XIVA PAIR OF GLOVESWhen Robin Freemantle left Prue, she ran to the mirror and critically examined her reflection in it."What a fright I look!" she exclaimed, "with my hair plastered down and my nose red and swollen. Peggie, I should not be surprised if that man were as disappointed with his bargain as I am with mine.""You don't look much like yourself," Peggie admitted frankly. "But even as you are, you must be a great deal prettier than the sort of women a highwayman would be used to.""Why, Peggie, do you think—do you suppose Robin has women-thieves for friends? Pick-pockets, perhaps—or Gipsies! Yet he looks like a gentleman. Highwaymen are sometimes brave and chivalrous—one hears of their doing generous things—they are not like common malefactors—""They get hanged, all the same," said Peggie unthinkingly."Oh! Peggie, you wicked, cruel creature; how dare you say such things!" cried Prue indignantly. "Robin hanged! Never, never! I would rather go to the queen and implore a pardon for him on my knees. Peggie, you saw him yourself. He is handsome, is he not, and dignified? He made me feel very much ashamed of myself; yet I hate him! I would I had never set eyes on him! Do you suppose he despises me, Peggie?""I shouldn't think he would have the impudence!" exclaimed Peggie. "A common adventurer, if no worse.""Adventurer, 'tis true, but which of us is not? Am I not an adventuress, Peggie? Aye, and not so very honest a one either. Say he will rob my Lord Bishop of his wig and my Lord Tomnoddy of his purse; what better do I when I buy what I can not pay for, and marry a man condemned to be hanged in order to cheat my creditors. Oh! my dear Peggie, there are many fine folk with their noses in the air, who can not glance into a mirror without seeing the reflection of an adventurer.""Not a doubt of it," said Peggie philosophically. "but most people, when they look in a mirror, see nothing there but what they want to see.""Well, what I see is just the reverse of that," said Prue, casting a dissatisfied glance at her own reflection, as she hurried away to rid herself of her somber dress and release her curls from their unaccustomed bonds. This was hardly accomplished to her satisfaction, when Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert arrived, in a state of great excitement."Good morning, fair ladies," he cried, saluting them with less ceremony than usual. "No need to ask whether you have seen this morning'sCourant.""Why not?" inquired Prue innocently."Because you look too happy and unconcerned to have heard the disastrous news," he said, with a portentous air. "I grieve to be a harbinger of misfortune.""You alarm us," cried Prue. "What has happened? Speak!""Calm yourself, dearest Prudence, and remember thatIwill not suffer any harm to come to you." Sir Geoffrey lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper, "The highwayman you wot of has escaped!""Is that all?" said Prue, with a shrug; "I thought you had news for us. We knew that an hour ago.""You knew it? How? Has the villain dared—""How did we know it?" Peggie interrupted quickly, to prevent a retort from her cousin. "Why, the same way you did," and she displayed the printed sheet that, adorned with a rude cut of a gallows, gave a minute account of the morning's executions, adding that the queen's clemency had been extended to Robin Freemantle, through the influence of powerful friends incertain quarters, and that he had left Newgate withgreat secrecylate Sunday evening.Sir Geoffrey was greatly vexed at having his surprise discounted. "I'm glad to find you taking it so unconcernedly," he observed, looking anything but glad. "I feared that you would be crushed by such a calamity.""Did you, indeed, think us bloodthirsty enough to regret the saving of a fellow-creature's life?" said Prue, with grave reproof. "I hoped that you had a better opinion of our humanity.""Humanity," echoed the baronet, with ill-dissembled irritation. "Such angelic sentiments well become the cruel beauty whose path is strewn with bleeding hearts. But has my dear Prudence no pity to spare for the unhappy swain, condemned to worse than death by Robin, the highwayman's, unexpected good luck?""On the contrary," laughed Prue, "she congratulates you on your escape; believe me, a far greater piece of luck than Robin's.""Do not jest, dear one, I implore you," said Sir Geoffrey seriously. "You certainly have not considered the position this miscarriage of justice has placed you in. Let me lay before you the consequences—""Pray, do not," interrupted Prue pettishly. "If I am resigned to the will of Heaven, why persecute me with reasons for rebellion?"Sir Geoffrey, with his hand upon his heart, bowed to the ground."Before such piety, I am dumb," he said. "Is it permitted to ask if you are reconciled to your creditors as well as to the means you took to rid yourself of them?""It is not," replied Prue with overpowering dignity. "That is my private affair and I do not care to discuss it, even with Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert. By the by, Sir Geoffrey"—with an entire change of tone and manner—"you always know the latest news; do tell us why Mrs. Tewkesbury has gone home to her father, and whether her husband is going to fight a duel or will merely horsewhip her hair-dresser?"The conversation drifted into safer channels, and Prue was soon her own bright, frivolous, enchanting self. Other guests dropped in; fashion, scandal, and the duchess' masquerade were discussed, and Prue had a saucy answer for every compliment and a ready laugh for every jest, and beneath her dainty bodice such a tumult of fear and shame and sharp sense of defeat, and withal such strange, swift stabs of something that was not pain, and yet hurt her more than all the other emotions that quickened her pulse and sent the blood surging through her brain.It was late in the afternoon, and Prue's guests were making their adieux, when Robin's messenger came—a rustic-looking youth with a ruddy complexion and a shock of tow-colored hair. He was dressed like the footboy of a prosperous tradesman, and carried an oilskin covered basket—and of a surety bore no resemblance to the crippled beggar who had followed Robin so persistently on his way to the conference in Lincoln's Inn.Yet it was the same man.With an air of dense stupidity, he evaded such questions as James deigned to put to him, and reiterated his petition for a personal interview with Lady Prudence Brooke, for whom he had a message that was to be delivered to her, and to her alone. James, scenting a discreet but persistent dun, bade him wait in the library, and conveyed his request to Prue with the same air of respectful condolence with which he would have announced any other calamity. Although he disapproved of her youth and frivolity, James would have yielded to none in admiration of his beautiful young mistress, whom he had carried in his arms as a baby and conspired with every other member of Lady Drumloch's household to indulge, spoil and flatter from the first hour that her blue eyes had opened on a world full of her adorers."A young man is waiting below, my Lady. He has a message for you which he will not send up. I told him you were engaged, but he said he would wait until you were at leisure.""What sort of a young man, James? Does he look as if he came for money?" Prue asked. "You know most of my duns better than I do.""He is a stranger to me, my Lady, but it is likely he may be a lawyer's clerk in disguise.""I will see him, James; bring him up here," she interrupted."The hair-dresser is here; shall I tell him to wait?" inquired James."No; send him up-stairs. Peggie, go and have your hair dressed first, and by that time I will be ready."She was alone when the young man was shown in. "You want to see me?" she said, as soon as the door was shut. "You come to fetch something, do you not?""The captain told me—" he began, then stopped and stared mutely at her."Well, what did the captain tell you?" she demanded impatiently."He told me I should see the most beautiful lady in the whole world, and that I should know her for the Lady Prudence Brooke, without asking her name," said the lad."Your captain is a fool!" cried Prue. But, try as hard as she might to look indignant, she blushed divinely and a furtive smile played hide-and-seek among her dimples. Of all Prue's many charms there was none to equal her smile. It was, perhaps, on that account that she smiled often and so maintained a reputation for good-nature that lured many an unsuspecting victim into disaster."That he is!" cried the messenger heartily. "For he said he'd done this beautiful lady a great injury, but for all that he would trust his life—and more than that—in her hands. Can any man be a worse fool than to trust a woman so far as that?""Said he that, in very truth?" asked Prue, turning very pale."Aye, and other things just as foolish," said the man, with the same stupid air of rusticity. "Will it please your ladyship to give me what the captain left with you?"She brought out the white silken packet from its hiding-place among the laces of her bodice, and held it out to him. "Tell your captain from me," she said disdainfully, "that I scarce know which is the greater fool—he or his messenger."The man laughed very heartily, and having bestowed the packet safely, opened his basket and took out a parcel and a letter. "The captain bade me present these to your ladyship," he said, and was bowing himself out, when she stopped him hurriedly."I forget the captain's address," she said; "I might want to—to send a message to him.""Any time your ladyship wants to send to him, a word to Steve Larkyn, at Pip's Coffee-house, Essex Street, Strand, will find your ladyship's humble servant, who will be most honored by any commands you lay upon him," said the man. And before she could speak again, had disappeared.Prue opened the parcel, which contained a long, narrow box of perfumed wood, lined with pink sarsenet. The next moment, she was flying up-stairs, two at a time, in her haste to display the contents to her cousin.
Mine Hostess, a plump but not uncomely dame, with a merry eye, sat in her cosy bar, surrounded by quaint flagons and other emblems of her hospitable calling. She returned a cheerful answer to Robin's greeting, and inquired his pleasure.
"You have a kindly face, and I'll be sworn a heart to match, fair Goddess of the Grape," said Robin. "Will you help two hapless lovers, separated by cruel fate?"
"That depends on what I am to help them to," she retorted. "Mine's a respectable house, and I'd rather have dealings with lawyers than lovers."
"I want but a trifling service from you, though 'tis a vast favor to me," said Robin. "Will you take charge of this letter, and by and by give it to the serving-man of Mistress Larkyn, whose name is writ upon it?"
"Oh! if that's all," she said, extending a hand that was plump and shapely, if not over-clean. Robin seized the hand and touched it gallantly with his lips, before surrendering the letter to its clasp. After that, although she called him an "impudent varlet," and made as though to box his ears, he might have asked a much greater favor without danger of rebuff.
When they went out again, Robin cast the green cloak about him, and strode along with an air that made more than one peaceable citizen give him the footway all to himself. As they entered Lincoln's Inn Square, this became still more marked, and in front of one of the finest houses, he stopped and looked round with an insolent swagger that greatly impressed a group of men loitering under a tree near by.
Double could not quite conceal his dissatisfaction, and pulling his client by the sleeve, whispered that the men looked like constables in plain clothes, and that they could hardly fail to recognize him when he came out, if, as seemed probable, they were waiting there for him.
"Let them stare their fill," said Robin. "I wish them to become thoroughly acquainted with Robin Freemantle's appearance." And he walked slowly up the steps into the house.
In an up-stairs room, Lord Beachcombe and his lawyer awaited them. Robin left his swashbuckling manners in the anteroom, where Samuel was relieved of his bag and left to the congenial society of two or three clerks.
Lord Beachcombe returned Robin's courteous greeting with a haughty movement that was scarcely a salute, the two lawyers met with friendly formality, tape-tied papers were produced, and the conference began.
"I understood," said the earl, addressing his attorney, "that the person who calls himself Robert Gregory de Cliffe would be present to-day."
"Have patience, my Lord, he will be here in good time," interposed Mr. Double. "Have you examined the attested copies, Mr. Perry?"
"I have, and to avoid waste of time, I am prepared to admit that they appear to contain interesting family matters, highly interesting. Not that they would be of much legal value if you brought the case before the courts, but enough to cause some annoyance to my client. We have shown that we consider it worth examining into the affair, by obtaining the pardon of this"—he glanced at Robin—"this gentleman."
"And also by taking the precaution of having a warrant ready for my arrest on another charge," said Robin, quietly but incisively.
Mr. Perry glanced at Lord Beachcombe, and their eyes met with the same inquiry, "How can he know?"
"Had you kept faith with me," said Robin, bending his stern gaze upon Beachcombe, "this matter could have been settled in a few minutes. As it is, I have decided not to put the two most important documents in your hands until I am in a place of safety."
"Traitor!" exclaimed Beachcombe, striking the table with his clenched fist. "I knew he would devise some means to balk me!"
"If you talk of traitors, did you not purpose to get everything you wanted from me, and then put my head back in the noose?" demanded Robin. "Such a cat-and-mouse game is not so easy to play with a man who has carried his life in his hand through every kind of danger—even to the gallows'-foot—even through treachery, though that is less common among gentlemen of the road than some other kinds of gentlemen. In exchange for my life, I will give you, as I promised, the original letters that passed between your father and his first wife, the original documents proving the identity of both parties, and thecopiesof the marriage certificate and the death certificate that proveyourmother's marriage a fraud."
"Oh! this villain will drive me mad!" screamed Lord Beachcombe. "Let me go, Perry; must I kill you to get at him?"
"Be calm, my Lord, I beg you," urged the lawyer, very red in the face from his efforts to restrain his client; "this matter can be arranged without violence, if you will leave it to me. Mr.—a—Captain—a—Freebooter, pray address any remarks to me. You will only impede the negotiation by provoking Lord Beachcombe."
"Here are the original letters and documents," said Mr. Double, advancing to the table, "we will go over them together." The lawyers went to work together, comparing, arguing and quibbling, as though the whole matter had not been settled in advance.
Robin, meantime, strolled to the window, where he observed one of the loitering men in conversation with a furtive man in black, with a pen stuck in his rusty wig. He stealthily pointed Robin out when he appeared at the window, and then darted back to the house like a rat into its hole.
"These letters appear genuine," said Mr. Perry finally, "but they are valueless to us without the two certificates."
"They are worth as much to you as your pledge of safety is to me," returned Robin. "Why should you expect to feel safe from me, while I am still in danger from you? That was not the compact. The hour that I set my foot on a foreign shore in safety, I will cut the last thread that binds me to the past, but those two papers will never be yours, Lord Beachcombe, until it is out of your power to injure me. I have given my word, and I will keep it. My title in exchange for my life; your legitimacy in exchange for my safety."
"I knew it—I felt it!" cried Beachcombe. "This fellow himself is the arch-impostor."
"Impostor!" said Robin, with a contemptuous laugh, as he stood up and pointed to the earl. "Nature has cast us in the same mold; God be praised that her work is only skin-deep. Double, you have the late earl's picture in that bag; pull it out, and let us see on which of his sons he printed off the best likeness of himself."
Mr. Double drew forth a roll of canvas, that bore evidence of having been hastily cut from the frame.
"My father's picture!" cried Beachcombe, recognizing it with amazement. "How came it in your possession?"
"It fell into my hands," said Robin dryly, "when I was lately in the North Country. I thought it might be useful, so I brought it away with me."
"You mean, I suppose, that you stole it from Beachcombe Castle," snapped the earl.
"How could I steal my own? Beachcombe Castle is entailed upon the eldest son, and I inherited it from my father, as the son just born to you will doubtless inherit it from you if nothing untoward happens to me. You ought to pray heartily for my welfare, my Lord, until I am safely landed in—America. Still, I am not dependent upon the picture of a dead man for proofs of identity. I can bring twenty living witnesses to prove that I am the son of Mrs. Vincent, whose marriage to Captain Gregory de Cliffe I can prove by documents and other valuable evidence."
"You will give up the two certificates if Lord Beachcombe pledges his word that you will be allowed to leave England unmolested, will you not?" inquired Mr. Perry insinuatingly.
"I will not," replied Robin firmly.
"Well, then—I urge this matter because my lord will have a long period of suspense to endure before he receives those documents, and without impugning your good faith, it is possible they might fall into the wrong hands after all—will you give them up if Lord Beachcombe gives you a written guarantee that you will be safe, so far as he can protect you?"
"I do not value his written guarantee one farthing," said Robin contemptuously. "Given an hour's start, I am ready to take my chance of escape from any lawyer or traitor of you all. But I've a reason for wishing to remain in London for the next few days, and I'll not give up the one thing that enables me to do it in safety."
Beachcombe sprang to his feet. "I have stood this insolence long enough!" he exclaimed. "You—an outlaw, a convicted robber, dare to spurn my word!—refuse to acceptmywritten promise! Pray, what will satisfy you?"
"Oh! if you wish to offer me satisfaction, 'tis quickly settled," cried Robin. "To cross swords with your lordship will give me the utmost pleasure, and let him who draws the first blood dictate the terms of truce."
Beachcombe sneered, but he was not a coward, and his fingers almost involuntarily wandered to his sword-hilt.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried the lawyer. "This is no time or place for fighting; besides, if there is anything in your story, Captain—Freebooter—the curse of Cain would be on the one who shed the other's blood."
"Will the one who hires somebody else to shed the other's blood, escape the curse of Cain?" sternly inquired Robin. "If we can not settle this business like gentlemen, let us get it over as quickly as possible. It will not be difficult, I dare say, to find some better occasion for a meeting."
In a great hurry, Mr. Perry read over a legal document, renouncing on the part of "the person claiming to be Robert Gregory de Cliffe and his descendants for ever," all titles, estates entailed or otherwise, and other belongings appertaining to the Beachcombe family in all its ramifications, in consideration of one thousand pounds over and above all expenses of his transportation to a foreign land, or any place outside of the British Isles, that he might select for his future abode. The above to be paid to him on signing this deed, and to constitute a full satisfaction for every claim, past, present and future.
Robin listened with scant patience to the monotonous repetition of legal terms by which every contingency was forestalled and provided for. Then he requested Mr. Double to peruse it, in case there might be snares or hidden meanings in it. Two clerks were called in to witness the bold signature of Robert Gregory de Cliffe, and finally, Mr. Perry counted out one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, as compensation for Robin's claim to an inheritance worth twenty thousand a year, two hundred more for his expenses in leaving the country, and certain sums to Mr. Double for his services. Lord Beachcombe showed very little interest in this part of the transaction, but sat biting his nails and fingering his sword-hilt.
Mr. Perry drew Mr. Double aside, and made one last attempt to convince him that it would be greatly to the interest of all parties if he could persuade his client to surrender the two documents of whose value he held so exaggerated an estimate. Meantime, Robin strolled up to the window, arranging his beaver with great nonchalance, and throwing the end of the cloak over his shoulder, so as to display the red lining.
He observed that the loitering men had drawn together, and numbered about half-a-score, armed with stout bludgeons and still more deadly weapons. Near them, under the trees, a ragged urchin walked Lord Beachcombe's horse slowly up and down, hopeful of a bounteous douceur from the noble patron who had kept him so long waiting.
"Now, Captain," said Mr. Double, "I am at your service."
Robin walked to the door, and removing his beaver, swept so low a bow, that he dropped it on the floor.
"Farewell, Mr. Perry,—you will hear from me—from foreign parts. My Lord Beachcombe—adieu."
The lawyer, who had already assumed an air of preoccupation with other matters, returned the bow with ceremonious frostiness. Lord Beachcombe did not even turn his head. Consequently, neither of them saw Robin kick his own hat out of the way and help himself to one that lay on a chair near the door.
"Give me five minutes start," he whispered to Double, as he quickly disengaged himself from the green cloak and threw it into a dark corner of the stairway. When he emerged from the front door, a dignified gentleman in a plum-colored riding-coat and black velvet cavalier hat with a long, drooping ostrich feather, he looked as little as possible like the roystering blade who had been seen a few minutes before at the upper window. He signed to the boy with the horse, and mounting without haste, threw him a shilling and beckoned to the chief of the posse of constables.
"You had better bring your men on this side of the street," he said imperiously; "don't give the fellow time to get away or you will never catch him again. And, mind—dead or alive!"
The man knuckled his hat obsequiously. "Yes, m' Lud," he said, with something the air of one bulldog being egged on to attack another. "Them's my orders."
Robin gave him a curt word, and rode out through the gateway leading into Chancery Lane. When he was out of sight, he gave rein to his horse, and taking to the network of narrow lanes that lay between the Strand and the river, made off with the utmost speed toward Westminster.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SEALED PACKET
Mr. Double did not hurry after his client, but gave him a good ten minutes' start, while he made Samuel search the blue-bag for some imaginary papers, and then, bidding him shoulder his hated burden, went forth, much reassured by the absence of commotion in the Square.
The posse had collected outside the house, and eyed the lawyer and his clerk suspiciously. There was a moment of expectation as they recognized the companions of their quarry, but Double and his satellite were not molested, and at a short distance they separated, and Samuel pursued his westward way alone. He did not go far, but leaving his bag in charge of a friendly law-stationer, scurried back to Lincoln's Inn, and slipping through the constables, ran up-stairs and knocked timidly at the door of Mr. Perry's private sanctum.
"What do you want here, fellow?" demanded Perry, opening the door and discovering the little, cringing, shabby figure shrinking into the shadow. "This is not the clerk's office."
"Could I—can I—speak a word with the—the lord?" stammered Samuel.
Mr. Perry looked very searchingly at him for a minute or so. Then he relaxed a little and made room for him to pass into the room, which he did, smoothing his flaxen wig over his forehead with his moist palm, and evidently in a desperately uneasy frame of mind.
"Do you want to speak to Me?" demanded Lord Beachcombe, in a haughty voice, that sounded so terrible to the clerk, that he could hardly stammer out, "Y—yes."
"And what have you to say?" inquired Mr. Perry, in a more encouraging tone. "Speak out, man, don't be frightened; nobody will hurt you."
"Ah! but he would, if he knew," quavered Samuel, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"You mean Mr. Double? I suppose you want to tell us something he is concealing from us, eh? Well, we will protect you from him," said Mr. Perry magnanimously.
"'Tis not so much him I'm afraid of as the captain," whispered Samuel, glancing from side to side, as though he expected to see him lurking somewhere about. Then he approached Lord Beachcombe on tiptoe. "What will you give me if I get you those certificates?"
"Damnation!" cried Beachcombe, starting up, black with fury; "are my private affairs known to every quill-driver in the town?"
Samuel turned livid with terror. "I only know where they are," he whimpered; "I don't know anything about them."
"Well, where are they?" demanded Beachcombe threateningly.
A glint of cunning sparkled in Samuel's eye. "It wouldn't be any use for me to tell your lordship where they are. No one can get at them but me, and as I shall be suspected, it's worth a good deal for the risk I run—if the certificates are any use to your lordship."
"How do you know what certificates these are, if you say you don't know anything about them?" interposed Mr. Perry.
"Because I heard the captain tell Mr. Double that he could afford to let Lord Beachcombe have everything else, so long as he kept the two certificates back. So he put them where nobody knows but himself and Double and me. And he'll have them out if I don't hurry and get there first."
"You need not be uneasy about that," said Beachcombe, with a grin of malicious joy. "Captain Freemantle is on his way to Newgate Prison by now, and if those—papers—find their way into my possession, I think it is safe to say that he will never come out except to make the journey to Tyburn."
"On his way to Newgate?" cried the little clerk, rubbing his hands with glee. "Then, if we can agree on the price, your lordship can have them in an hour."
"If you bring them to me—without reading them—in an hour, I will give you ten guineas," said Lord Beachcombe magnificently.
"Ten guineas!" echoed Samuel, with a falling countenance. "They can not be so very important, after all, if that's all they're worth."
"How much did you expect?" demanded Beachcombe, who hated parting with his money, and was still writhing under the agony of having had to disburse so considerable a sum already over this affair.
"Considering the risk, I think I ought to have a hundred pounds," pleaded Samuel, trembling at his own audacity.
"A hundred devils!" growled Beachcombe; "do you think I am made of money?"
"It's well worth it, my Lord," urged Samuel. "You don't know the risk I run, even if the captain is in jail. And why wouldn't he get out? He's been there before and cheated the hangman; he's as artful as a fox, and has more friends than you and I know of."
Beachcombe reflected a while. "Well, bring the documents to my house and you shall have the hundred pounds. But if you ever betray the slightest knowledge of them, it will be worse for you than if the captain, as you call him, escaped from prison and came after you with all his friends."
"They're in a sealed packet, my Lord, and if I break the seal you can keep your money," said Samuel, growing bolder, as a confederacy in dishonor brought the haughty peer nearer to his level. Beachcombe signified his acceptance of the compact and walked over to the window, while Mr. Perry gave Samuel instructions how to make sure of the packet falling into no other than the right hands.
"God's death!" Beachcombe suddenly exclaimed, in so strange a voice, that the others hurried to the window and looked anxiously out to see what had befallen. The street was perfectly quiet. A couple of barristers, with their gowns tucked up, stood talking and laughing, a street vendor shouted the praises of his wares, a slatternly woman, with a baby in her arms and another clinging to her skirt, lounged under the trees opposite, and the group of constables, still expectant, chewed straws and spat them out in the gutter, with the utter absence of hurry so frequently observed in men whose time is owned and paid for by the government. Nothing else was in sight.
"What are those men waiting for?" roared Beachcombe. "Is that scoundrel hiding in this house? Call them in, Perry, and make them search every corner. By Heaven! if you have let him slip through your fingers—"
"Do you mean the captain?" asked the trembling clerk. "He went out half an hour ago, just before me and Mr. Double."
"And no one stopped him? He passed through the constables unchallenged? It is collusion; they shall hang for it. Give me my hat, Perry—"
Samuel flew to obey, and after a brief search, emerged from beneath a table with a somewhat weather-beaten beaver, turned up with a silver buckle.
Beachcombe dashed it from his hand. "That is not mine!" he shouted; "that is the one that fellow wore when he came in. He has left it behind and taken mine; he has used it as a disguise, and those idiots have been taken in by it—" He flung out of the room, and the next minute was heard furiously cursing and berating the crestfallen constables, who, taking him for their long-awaited prey, sprang upon him as soon as he appeared, and but for the speedy interference of Mr. Perry, would have handled him roughly.
The men fell back in confusion as the situation dawned upon them. This the real lord? Then who was the haughty and self-important personage who had ridden away from them so coolly after issuing orders with such an air of authority?
"You shall sweat for this!" cried Beachcombe. "Where is my horse?"
No one seemed able to answer this question. The men glanced from one to another, and the mysterious crowd that springs up from the roadside when there is any excitement, began to collect. Some one suggested that a gentleman in a black hat and feather had been seen riding out of the Square, on a fine chestnut horse, and a murmur from the crowd confirmed the statement.
By this time, Lord Beachcombe had become speechless with rage. He signed to a passing chair, and getting in bareheaded, pulled the curtains close, and departed without a valedictory greeting.
After a visit to Bow Street which gave promise of a warm quarter of an hour to the constables on their return, Beachcombe hurried to his house, overlooking St. James' Park, to await Samuel's visit, and concoct plans by which Robin should not only be arrested, but brought to an ignominious and lingering death. Torture was supposed to have been abolished in those days, but treason was still punishable by drawing and quartering, and while the country was still astir with Jacobite plots, the charge of treason might easily be fastened on any man who could not readily account for his comings and goings.
The day passed slowly, for Lord Beachcombe, shut up in his study, gave orders that no visitor should be admitted except the lawyer's clerk. Once possessor of the proofs—if proofs they were—of the shadow upon his birth, he could set his heel without fear upon the throat of this miscreant who claimed to be his brother. His brother—! hiselderbrother—! The shrill cry of the baby-heir smote upon his ear, and goaded him to such a madness of impotent fury that if Samuel could have seen him then and known the cause of the furrow on his brow and the blood upon his bitten lip, he might have made his own terms and become rich for life.
In the afternoon, a groom came to say that his lordship's horse had been brought to the stable by a ragged boy, who had made off before he could be questioned.
"What condition was he in? Had he been ridden fast or far?" Lord Beachcombe inquired eagerly.
"Hadn't turned a hair, my Lord," was the reply; "might 'a' been for a canter round the Park."
Beachcombe went to the stable himself to make inspection, but could discover no mark or sign to enlighten the most sharpsighted. "Oh! if you could speak!" he muttered, as he caressed the glossy coat and deer-like head of his favorite. "If you could tell me where you have been these three hours!"
But there was nothing to be learned; not so much as could be shown by a muddy fetlock. If the horse had been out of town, he had been carefully groomed on his return and every trace of travel removed. His master returned to the house, more morose and vengeful than ever, to while away the hours that slowly passed until it was time to dress for the great entertainment at Marlborough House.
When he descended from his wife's apartments, where he had gone to display himself in his masquerade dress, he was certainly a magnificent and picturesque figure. His costume, of the period of Charles II., was of white satin, profusely trimmed with exquisite lace, and adorned with dazzling orders and jewels. A wig of long curls softened the harsh outline of his face, and a skilful touch of rouge relieved his swarthy pallor and lent a brilliancy to his dark eyes. His resemblance to Robin was remarkable enough then to have struck the most unobservant.
Over his arm he carried a voluminous domino of scarlet silk, and a mask to match dangled from his jeweled fingers.
He was stepping into his carriage, when a little black figure darted in front of him, and Samuel, bowing to the very ground before this gorgeous apparition, besought a word with him.
"Leave him alone," cried Beachcombe, as two or three serving-men stepped forward to sweep this insect from their master's path. "Have you anything important to say to me?" he eagerly inquired.
"Most important, your worship—I mean your Lordship," replied Samuel. "I've got it; only just now, though, and I've run every step of the way," and he showed a corner of the letter hidden in his breast.
"Give it to me," said Beachcombe, in a low, concentrated voice, and held out his hand for it. But Samuel hung back.
"My Lord—my Lord—" he stammered, clutching the packet like a drowning man grasping a straw, "will you give me my hundred pounds?"
"What, now; before I see the papers? Besides, I've not so much about me," exclaimed Beachcombe. "Why, you imp of the devil, are you afraid to trust me? Here, take my purse and give me that packet. I must have itnow, do you hear? And come to me to-morrow for your hundred guineas."
And before Samuel could make up his mind what to do, he found himself standing alone with a silken purse, full of golden guineas, in his hand, and the precious packet being whirled away from him in the earl's chariot.
Lord Beachcombe, with the packet tightly clutched in his hand, gave way to a reverie so pleasant and absorbing that he did not notice a slight additional jar in the jolting of the carriage over the ill-paved street. The cause of the jar was the sudden accession of two outside passengers; one on the box beside the coachman, and the other beside the lackey behind. Each of these functionaries, at the same instant, felt the cold contact of a pistol against his ear, and before they could make any outcry, the carriage was going in a different direction.
A touch of the whip sent the horses forward at breakneck speed. "Keep quiet and you are safe," said the stranger on the box, and in a moment he slipped over the coachman's head a bag that served both to gag and blindfold him. The same operation was performed simultaneously upon the footman. Very soon, they turned sharply under an archway, and a heavy gate was slammed behind them.
Leaving the coachman on the box, his captor got off and opened the carriage door.
"Descend here, Lord Beachcombe," he said, holding up a lantern, which revealed a tall man in a mask and behind him an open door.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" demanded Beachcombe, fumbling at his sword. The masked man, with very little ceremony, hauled him out of the carriage, and disregarding a strenuous resistance, conducted him into a small room, barely furnished and dimly lighted. He then saw that his assailant was almost as richly dressed as himself, and wore a jeweled star and other decorations of great splendor.
"What am I brought here for?" he asked, in a more subdued tone, for as his fear of robbery subsided in these surroundings, the fact that he had many and bitter enemies rose up before him.
"No harm unless you bring it upon yourself," replied the other. "At worst, an hour or two's detention and solitude and the loan of your invitation to the duchess' masquerade."
"Your voice sounds familiar to me," said Lord Beachcombe. "Will you not remove your mask, now that we are alone?" The other hesitated. "Is it worth while to keep up this mystery, Captain Freemantle? You see I recognize you."
"Since you know me, it is not worth while," replied Robin, unmasking. As he did so, Beachcombe whipped out his sword and rushed upon him. Robin had no time to arm himself, but dodging the onslaught with the agility of a cat, closed upon his assailant with a clever wrestling trick that threw him upon his back half-stunned, and before he could recover, had his hands securely tied behind his back with his gold-fringed sash.
"Youwouldhave it!" said Robin. "Now I can—" his eye fell upon a packet that had fallen from Beachcombe's hand, with the superscription upward:
"The Fox and Grapes."
He picked it up and turned it over, examining the unbroken seals, and glancing from time to time at his captive.
"So you found a traitor in the camp," he said, at last. "Let him beware—but, tush! I know who it is; it can be no other than Samuel. I need not interfere with him; he will find his own way to the gallows soon enough. I'm afraid I shall have to search you, my friend. You may as well take it quietly; you know I'm an expert at discovering hidden treasure."
Lord Beachcombe, however, would not submit quietly, so Robin bound him securely to a chair and instituted a rigorous search, which revealed nothing except the emblazoned note of invitation to the ball. So, warning his prisoner that any outcry would lead to rough treatment from those who were left in charge of him, Robin withdrew, taking with him the packet and the invitation, and also Beachcombe's sword and the lamp, and leaving him to darkness and reflection.
CHAPTER XIV
A PAIR OF GLOVES
When Robin Freemantle left Prue, she ran to the mirror and critically examined her reflection in it.
"What a fright I look!" she exclaimed, "with my hair plastered down and my nose red and swollen. Peggie, I should not be surprised if that man were as disappointed with his bargain as I am with mine."
"You don't look much like yourself," Peggie admitted frankly. "But even as you are, you must be a great deal prettier than the sort of women a highwayman would be used to."
"Why, Peggie, do you think—do you suppose Robin has women-thieves for friends? Pick-pockets, perhaps—or Gipsies! Yet he looks like a gentleman. Highwaymen are sometimes brave and chivalrous—one hears of their doing generous things—they are not like common malefactors—"
"They get hanged, all the same," said Peggie unthinkingly.
"Oh! Peggie, you wicked, cruel creature; how dare you say such things!" cried Prue indignantly. "Robin hanged! Never, never! I would rather go to the queen and implore a pardon for him on my knees. Peggie, you saw him yourself. He is handsome, is he not, and dignified? He made me feel very much ashamed of myself; yet I hate him! I would I had never set eyes on him! Do you suppose he despises me, Peggie?"
"I shouldn't think he would have the impudence!" exclaimed Peggie. "A common adventurer, if no worse."
"Adventurer, 'tis true, but which of us is not? Am I not an adventuress, Peggie? Aye, and not so very honest a one either. Say he will rob my Lord Bishop of his wig and my Lord Tomnoddy of his purse; what better do I when I buy what I can not pay for, and marry a man condemned to be hanged in order to cheat my creditors. Oh! my dear Peggie, there are many fine folk with their noses in the air, who can not glance into a mirror without seeing the reflection of an adventurer."
"Not a doubt of it," said Peggie philosophically. "but most people, when they look in a mirror, see nothing there but what they want to see."
"Well, what I see is just the reverse of that," said Prue, casting a dissatisfied glance at her own reflection, as she hurried away to rid herself of her somber dress and release her curls from their unaccustomed bonds. This was hardly accomplished to her satisfaction, when Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert arrived, in a state of great excitement.
"Good morning, fair ladies," he cried, saluting them with less ceremony than usual. "No need to ask whether you have seen this morning'sCourant."
"Why not?" inquired Prue innocently.
"Because you look too happy and unconcerned to have heard the disastrous news," he said, with a portentous air. "I grieve to be a harbinger of misfortune."
"You alarm us," cried Prue. "What has happened? Speak!"
"Calm yourself, dearest Prudence, and remember thatIwill not suffer any harm to come to you." Sir Geoffrey lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper, "The highwayman you wot of has escaped!"
"Is that all?" said Prue, with a shrug; "I thought you had news for us. We knew that an hour ago."
"You knew it? How? Has the villain dared—"
"How did we know it?" Peggie interrupted quickly, to prevent a retort from her cousin. "Why, the same way you did," and she displayed the printed sheet that, adorned with a rude cut of a gallows, gave a minute account of the morning's executions, adding that the queen's clemency had been extended to Robin Freemantle, through the influence of powerful friends incertain quarters, and that he had left Newgate withgreat secrecylate Sunday evening.
Sir Geoffrey was greatly vexed at having his surprise discounted. "I'm glad to find you taking it so unconcernedly," he observed, looking anything but glad. "I feared that you would be crushed by such a calamity."
"Did you, indeed, think us bloodthirsty enough to regret the saving of a fellow-creature's life?" said Prue, with grave reproof. "I hoped that you had a better opinion of our humanity."
"Humanity," echoed the baronet, with ill-dissembled irritation. "Such angelic sentiments well become the cruel beauty whose path is strewn with bleeding hearts. But has my dear Prudence no pity to spare for the unhappy swain, condemned to worse than death by Robin, the highwayman's, unexpected good luck?"
"On the contrary," laughed Prue, "she congratulates you on your escape; believe me, a far greater piece of luck than Robin's."
"Do not jest, dear one, I implore you," said Sir Geoffrey seriously. "You certainly have not considered the position this miscarriage of justice has placed you in. Let me lay before you the consequences—"
"Pray, do not," interrupted Prue pettishly. "If I am resigned to the will of Heaven, why persecute me with reasons for rebellion?"
Sir Geoffrey, with his hand upon his heart, bowed to the ground.
"Before such piety, I am dumb," he said. "Is it permitted to ask if you are reconciled to your creditors as well as to the means you took to rid yourself of them?"
"It is not," replied Prue with overpowering dignity. "That is my private affair and I do not care to discuss it, even with Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert. By the by, Sir Geoffrey"—with an entire change of tone and manner—"you always know the latest news; do tell us why Mrs. Tewkesbury has gone home to her father, and whether her husband is going to fight a duel or will merely horsewhip her hair-dresser?"
The conversation drifted into safer channels, and Prue was soon her own bright, frivolous, enchanting self. Other guests dropped in; fashion, scandal, and the duchess' masquerade were discussed, and Prue had a saucy answer for every compliment and a ready laugh for every jest, and beneath her dainty bodice such a tumult of fear and shame and sharp sense of defeat, and withal such strange, swift stabs of something that was not pain, and yet hurt her more than all the other emotions that quickened her pulse and sent the blood surging through her brain.
It was late in the afternoon, and Prue's guests were making their adieux, when Robin's messenger came—a rustic-looking youth with a ruddy complexion and a shock of tow-colored hair. He was dressed like the footboy of a prosperous tradesman, and carried an oilskin covered basket—and of a surety bore no resemblance to the crippled beggar who had followed Robin so persistently on his way to the conference in Lincoln's Inn.
Yet it was the same man.
With an air of dense stupidity, he evaded such questions as James deigned to put to him, and reiterated his petition for a personal interview with Lady Prudence Brooke, for whom he had a message that was to be delivered to her, and to her alone. James, scenting a discreet but persistent dun, bade him wait in the library, and conveyed his request to Prue with the same air of respectful condolence with which he would have announced any other calamity. Although he disapproved of her youth and frivolity, James would have yielded to none in admiration of his beautiful young mistress, whom he had carried in his arms as a baby and conspired with every other member of Lady Drumloch's household to indulge, spoil and flatter from the first hour that her blue eyes had opened on a world full of her adorers.
"A young man is waiting below, my Lady. He has a message for you which he will not send up. I told him you were engaged, but he said he would wait until you were at leisure."
"What sort of a young man, James? Does he look as if he came for money?" Prue asked. "You know most of my duns better than I do."
"He is a stranger to me, my Lady, but it is likely he may be a lawyer's clerk in disguise."
"I will see him, James; bring him up here," she interrupted.
"The hair-dresser is here; shall I tell him to wait?" inquired James.
"No; send him up-stairs. Peggie, go and have your hair dressed first, and by that time I will be ready."
She was alone when the young man was shown in. "You want to see me?" she said, as soon as the door was shut. "You come to fetch something, do you not?"
"The captain told me—" he began, then stopped and stared mutely at her.
"Well, what did the captain tell you?" she demanded impatiently.
"He told me I should see the most beautiful lady in the whole world, and that I should know her for the Lady Prudence Brooke, without asking her name," said the lad.
"Your captain is a fool!" cried Prue. But, try as hard as she might to look indignant, she blushed divinely and a furtive smile played hide-and-seek among her dimples. Of all Prue's many charms there was none to equal her smile. It was, perhaps, on that account that she smiled often and so maintained a reputation for good-nature that lured many an unsuspecting victim into disaster.
"That he is!" cried the messenger heartily. "For he said he'd done this beautiful lady a great injury, but for all that he would trust his life—and more than that—in her hands. Can any man be a worse fool than to trust a woman so far as that?"
"Said he that, in very truth?" asked Prue, turning very pale.
"Aye, and other things just as foolish," said the man, with the same stupid air of rusticity. "Will it please your ladyship to give me what the captain left with you?"
She brought out the white silken packet from its hiding-place among the laces of her bodice, and held it out to him. "Tell your captain from me," she said disdainfully, "that I scarce know which is the greater fool—he or his messenger."
The man laughed very heartily, and having bestowed the packet safely, opened his basket and took out a parcel and a letter. "The captain bade me present these to your ladyship," he said, and was bowing himself out, when she stopped him hurriedly.
"I forget the captain's address," she said; "I might want to—to send a message to him."
"Any time your ladyship wants to send to him, a word to Steve Larkyn, at Pip's Coffee-house, Essex Street, Strand, will find your ladyship's humble servant, who will be most honored by any commands you lay upon him," said the man. And before she could speak again, had disappeared.
Prue opened the parcel, which contained a long, narrow box of perfumed wood, lined with pink sarsenet. The next moment, she was flying up-stairs, two at a time, in her haste to display the contents to her cousin.