IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT UNCLE ANTHONY WAS MORE THAN A DROLL.
As may be imagined, Adam's message excited me much. What purpose had
Colman Killigrew in coming to Restormel so late at night? And Otho, what
was the meaning of his being present? Had either of them any suspicion
of my whereabouts? For myself I had but little fear, but what of Nancy?
I looked eagerly into her face, but she was perfectly calm and composed.
Evidently she knew no fear.
"Can you think of their reasons for coming?" I asked.
"I think I can guess." Then turning to Adam she said: "You will, of
course, admit them?"
"I must, my dear young lady," replied the old man, "I must. I should do
no good by refusing them, and I should arouse suspicion."
"True."
"Of course it will take some little time"; this he said meaningly.
"Yes, yes. He will think you are in bed. And where will you put them?"
"All right, my dear young lady," he replied mysteriously. "You need not
fear," he went on, "they shall never know that you are here."
"No, I can trust you for that, Adam"; then her eyes rested on me.
"Master Roger Trevanion is as safe as you are," he said quickly.
"You are certain?"
"Perfectly."
"That will do. We will stay here until you come."
The old man bowed and left us, and Mistress Nancy gazed steadily into
the fire for some time as though she were ignorant of my presence.
"Master Roger Trevanion," she said presently, "I did not know you cared
so much for your country. In the past you have seemed indifferent as to
what king reigned, Catholic or Protestant."
"Until I knew you I was practically indifferent," I replied humbly. "I
cared for little besides my own enjoyment. In a way, I was a loyal
Protestant, and would have fought for King George; but it would have
been for self-advancement chiefly, and--and because I loved a fight."
"And now?"
"You have made me ashamed of myself in more ways than one," I replied.
"And you do not wish a Stuart to return to the throne?"
"He would curse the country."
Again she was silent for a few seconds, still gazing steadily into the
fire.
"Would you play the spy?" she asked presently.
"No," I replied roughly. Then I started, for I heard the clang of a bell
resounding through the empty house.
"Not for the sake of King George?"
"I would rather some one else did it," I replied.
"But if no one else would do it, or could do it?"
I was silent.
"And if thereby you could possibly save your country from a great
calamity?"
"I am not a mole," I replied. "I cannot burrow in the ground. I like to
fight in the open."
At that moment we heard the sound of voices, among which I recognized
that of old Colman Killigrew.
"We need not be alarmed," she said. "The Killigrews know nothing of this
room." Then she sat gazing into the fire again, while I fell to
wondering what was in her mind.
"You said just now that you wanted to serve me?" she said presently.
"Yes, yes," I whispered eagerly.
"Would you play the spy in order to save me from calamity?"
"Do not put it that way," I said bitterly; "but I would do anything that
a gentleman could do to serve you. You have made me love what is
honourable, you have made me hate that which is mean."
"Would it be mean to discover the plottings of my enemies?" she asked
tremulously.
"No, no," I answered eagerly. "Such a work would be worthy of any man.
Command me, Mistress Nancy. Tell me of the man who has plotted against
you, and I will go to him and tear his secret from him."
"Wait!" was her answer.
At this moment I heard a low rapping at the door.
She wandered slowly around the room for some minutes speaking never a
word; then turning to me suddenly she said:
"Follow me if you would serve me."
She touched a spot on the door, and immediately it swung on its hinges.
I followed her into the passage, and up a long flight of stairs.
"Whither are we going?" I asked presently.
"To a secret place in the house," was her answer; "you will be safer
there."
"But you told me I was safe yonder."
"Will you not trust me?" she said. "You said you would serve me."
I followed her without another word. Had she told me to go to my death,
I think I should have obeyed.
Presently she opened the door of an apartment.
"Enter there," she said; "do not make a sound of any sort. Wait in
perfect silence until I return."
I entered.
"You can trust me, can't you?" she whispered.
"Yes, yes!" I answered. "I will obey you to the very letter."
"Mind, make no sound. Do not move."
"Very well. Are you not coming with me?"
"No. Walk four paces into the apartment. Make no sound."
I did as she commanded me; then I heard the door close and I was left in
perfect darkness.
I waited minute after minute in silence, wondering what she meant by
such strange conduct. Under other circumstances I should have tried to
get a light, and have examined the room in which she had left me; but I
had given my promise, and I would abide by it. Besides, was I not doing
this to serve her? I called to mind the rapping I had heard while we had
been in the other room; that was doubtless a signal between her and
Adam.
How long I stayed there I know not. I was like one stunned by a heavy
blow; my mind was bewildered--everything was as confused as a dream.
Sometimes I thought I _was_ dreaming.
Presently I heard a sound of approaching footsteps. Several people
seemed to be coming straight to the spot where I sat. Had Mistress Nancy
been mistaken? That she had in any way betrayed me was not to be
considered. I saw no light, but I could hear footsteps and voices
plainly. A few seconds later, it seemed to me that people were so near
that I had need only to stretch out my hand in order to touch them. All
the same this could not have been. No one had entered the apartment, of
that I was sure.
"Now then we can get to business."
It was old Colman Killigrew who spoke, and his voice sounded strangely
near. He might be standing close to my ear.
"We have need, and that quickly."
I gave a start. The voice was Uncle Anthony's, and he spoke as one
having authority. Instinctively I stretched out my hands, but I touched
nothing. Why were these men's voices so plain?
"How many swords can you command?" asked Otho Killigrew.
"In twenty-four hours, a thousand," replied Uncle Anthony.
"And Hugh Boscawen hath five thousand," was old Colman Killigrew's
rejoinder.
"Yes, but where be they? Here, there, everywhere. He hath gone about
this work like a fool. No method--no order. Besides he is ignorant of
what we know. To-night is Wednesday. To-morrow night at this time
Charles lands at Veryan Bay. We must meet him with a thousand men. Then
must we go silently to Tregothnan, and make Boscawen prisoner. When the
true king lands, and Boscawen appeareth not, the very men who would have
fought against us will be for us. Besides, is not the man John Wesley a
papist? True, I have not seen him, but rumour hath it that his
followers long for the return of a Catholic king."
"You depend too much on rumour, Father Anthony," said Otho moodily.
"What say you?"
"That I have ceased to trust you," replied Otho boldly. "I cannot forget
the part you have played in the flight of Nancy; or in your treatment of
Roger Trevanion. It is well to have that matter settled. We trusted you,
and you failed us; but for you Mistress Nancy would have been my wife
ere this."
"And you would have regretted it to your dying day. Think you I am a
fool, Otho Killigrew?"
"Why should I have regretted it?" asked Otho sullenly.
"Time will show, my lad. He who weds a loveless wife must have
sufficient reasons for doing so."
"And were not my reasons sufficient?"
"They were built upon thistledown, Otho Killigrew."
"Why did you not tell me this?"
"Because you chose to act without me, or rather to act against me. Have
you not known me long enough to be sure I would do nothing without
purpose. Bah! you thought you were very wise. You got Trevanion
imprisoned, you tried to arouse suspicion concerning me, and then like a
fool you visited him at Launceston Castle."
"But that has done no harm. He has escaped."
"True; but before he did so, you proved his innocence to Hugh Boscawen,
and obtained a warrant for his liberty. Now we have no hold upon him. He
hath gone, whither I know not. His whereabouts is as great a mystery as
that of the maid Nancy herself."
"Then you know not where she is?"
"I know nothing. I have been busy doing other work, or I might have set
to work to discover. I know Trevanion took her to Peter Trevisa's."
"To Peter Trevisa's! Why?"
"Because--well, Peter Trevisa knows more of Nancy Molesworth, aye, and
of this very house and the lands surrounding it, than you do. Peter
Trevisa holds everything like that!"
"Ah!" cried Otho Killigrew.
"Enough of this," cried old Colman Killigrew, "all that can wait now.
More pressing matters come first."
"I know it, Colman Killigrew," replied Uncle Anthony; "but this son of
thine thinks he is very wise in suspecting me and in seeking to thwart
my purposes. It is well to prove to him that he is a fool. He should
learn to obey before he seeks to command."
"Well, and the other matter; is all ready?"
"It is. That is why I have ordered you here to-night. We must make this
our centre. The house is isolated and practically uninhabited but for
the man who obeys you implicitly. Here we can speak freely. There is a
lonely road leading from the house to the sea; we can come and go
without suspicion at least for three days."
"Why three days?" asked Otho.
"I say three days, because I do not know what is in Peter Trevisa's
mind."
"What of him? What hath he to do with it?"
"I cannot tell yet; when Charles hath landed, and starts his march
through Cornwall and Devonshire, I, the old hermit, may have time to
think of other things."
"You are right," replied old Colman. "And now there is work to do. The
men must be gathered."
"They are being gathered," replied Uncle Anthony.
"And armed."
"That is being done. If our work is done silently through the next two
days all will be well. Our great danger is that Hugh Boscawen shall hear
of it. If he does, we are lost."
"You speak strongly," said old Colman Killigrew; "you speak strongly,
Father Anthony."
"Because I feel strongly. I tell you much depends, very much depends on
the next few days. Oh, I know! Have I not gone around to almost every
house in the county? Have I not worn a dozen disguises? Have I not
wormed my way into the confidence of the faltering, and given courage to
cowards? Here I have been a droll, a story-teller, there a priest
hearing confessions and commanding service. To many a man I have gone
who longed for the true faith and dared not confess it, and to each I
have brought hope and courage. Many and many a night have I sat in my
lonely hiding-places thinking, thinking of this time and preparing for
it. To-day, through my labours, and I make no boast, there be fifty
heads of houses in this county ready not only to do battle themselves,
but to lead their dependants, who but for me would have timidly cried,
'Long live King George II.' This I have done quietly, secretly.
Pronounced Protestants have scarcely suspected it, and Hugh Boscawen,
fool that he is, thinks the whole county is loyal to those German
usurpers."
"I know you have worked hard, Father Anthony," replied old Colman
Killigrew. "Many and many is the hour that you and I have talked
concerning these matters at Endellion; through you we are a strong
chain, whereas without you we should have been loops of iron which have
no connection."
"And no one knows of the coming of Charles Stuart?" asked Otho
Killigrew.
"Not yet; it is not well. We must be silent; silent as death. Still if
we are wise there will be no need to fear. There be many thousands who
are true to our cause. Let Charles come, let the people see him at the
head of a few hundred men, and they will flock to his standard as sheep
flock together at the sound of the barking of the shepherd's dog. All
the same, this Hugh Boscawen, this Viscount Falmouth must not know, for,
fool though he may be, he hath much power."
All this I heard, scarce thinking of what it meant. All was so sudden,
so mysterious. But when Uncle Anthony finished speaking, the purport of
it all flashed upon me like light. I saw, or fancied I saw, Mistress
Nancy's purpose in conducting me to this room. She wished me to know the
plans of these men; she knew, too, of the cunningly contrived
arrangements whereby the sound was conveyed from one room to the other.
All the same, I liked not the thought that she had made me an
eavesdropper, although, doubtless the two rooms had been constructed by
the Molesworths for some such purpose as this, and they were honourable
men.
I dared make no sound, for by so doing I had put myself in extreme
danger, and I could not get out. So I sat there while they unfolded
their plans, the gist of which I have here written down. Truly my
bargain with Peter Trevisa had led me a pretty dance, and yet, but for
the motive thereof, I did not wish matters otherwise.
Presently they prepared to depart, for the which I was truly glad, for
my limbs were becoming cramped. I dared not move, for I reflected that
sound would be conveyed to them as clearly as to me, and by and by, when
I heard their retreating footsteps, I started up with great relief and
stretched my long limbs with much comfort.
After a long time, for so it seemed to me, I heard a scratching at the
door.
"Come," said a voice which I had learned to know, although it spoke but
in a whisper.
I hurried towards the door, and saw in the dim light the face of my
love. After that, and without speaking a word, I followed her into the
room where my meals had been brought. When the door was closed, I
looked into her eyes eagerly.
"Well?" she said questioningly.
"You led me there for a purpose," I said.
I thought I saw laughter in her face.
"Adam is a wise old man, and knows the house inch by inch; knows its
history, its secret places."
"And he led them there with an object?" I persisted.
"You refused to play the spy, Master Trevanion," she whispered with a
low laugh, "and yet----" and there she broke off without finishing the
sentence.
"Mistress Nancy," I cried, "you are sure you are safe here?"
"Have you not had proof?"
"Then I must away!"
"Away?"
"Yes. I have heard strange things. I tell you I must leave the house
this very hour."
"But why?"
"Can you not guess?" Then I knew that although she had not heard a word,
she was aware of the subject of their conversation. Her face I thought
grew paler, and her hands trembled slightly.
"They do not know where I am," I went on, "neither have they any clew to
your whereabouts. They do not guess you are here, but I must away. Can I
have a horse?"
"No, no, it is impossible. There are many men about the house. They are
watching everywhere."
"Then I must away on foot."
"Is it urgent?"
"Let me tell you all I heard," I cried; "for their every word came as
plainly to me as if I sat in their midst. The Pretender is to land at
Veryan Bay to-morrow midnight."
"So soon?"
"Ah," I cried, "that was the secret which Peter Trevisa wished you to
impart? You had heard that he intended landing in Cornwall?"
She did not speak, but her silence told me of many things.
"I go to Tregothnan," I cried. "I go this very hour. Adam Coad must let
me out. Surely he knows of the secret ways."
She hesitated a second; then she said: "No, Adam must know nothing of
this. I will conduct you. But you are sure it is right to tell Lord
Falmouth."
"It is more than right," I cried; "I shall perchance save the country
from civil war."
She looked at me as if in great doubt.
"But if the Catholic faith is the true one," she cried, "and if Charles
Stuart is the lawful heir to the throne--then----" and her lips trembled
piteously as if she were in sore straits.
"I am no great hand at theology," I said; "but I know that Popery is
lies, oppression, cruelty, ruin! We have had enough of it in England. If
the Pretender lands and Hugh Boscawen is taken prisoner, it will mean
brother fighting against brother, perhaps father fighting against son.
The whole country will be in tears. We shall have the rack, the
thumbscrew, the faggot back again. As for the Stuarts, they have proved
themselves to be a race of scoundrels."
I spoke warmly, for now that I was brought face to face with facts, I
saw everything in a new light. The earnestness of my race rose up within
me, and even then I felt ashamed of the useless life I had lived.
"Are you such a Protestant, then?" she asked.
"All my race have been for two hundred years," I cried; "and the reign
of a Stuart will mean a deathblow for all who try to uphold liberty and
truth."
"But you will be in great danger."
"I must go nevertheless. Guide me, Mistress Nancy, and that quickly."
I pulled on my boots as I spoke, and buttoned my coat closely around me.
"Yes, yes," she replied, eagerly. "But you will need arms. Wait; I will
fetch you sword and pistols."
In a few seconds she had returned. "This is a sword which my father
wore," she said, her voice trembling.
My heart leapt wildly. She could not scorn me, if with her own hands she
had brought her father's sword.
"I will use it for no unworthy cause, Mistress Nancy," I cried. "I will
strike no blow for anything which your father would condemn."
"Come, come," she said. "Adam showed me the way only a few days ago.
Come! But you will be careful?"
Again my heart seemed to burn within me. It may seem but little to the
reader, indeed the matter was trivial, yet I rejoiced beyond measure to
think that she was anxious for my welfare.
I accompanied her along an underground passage, then we climbed some
stone steps, and presently I stood by a low doorway. Taking a key from
her pocket she unlocked the door, which opened into a dark shrubbery.
"You see that path?" she whispered.
"Yes."
"It leads to the woods. I can tell you no more. But be careful; there
are watchers all around, for the Killigrews are not yet gone. God be
with you!"
"Good-bye, Mistress Nancy."
"No, only good-morning."
"And you will be careful, Mistress Nancy. Do not let them see you. If I
did not think you were safe I know not if I could go--even now. But when
I may, I will come back, I will serve you with my whole heart."
"I am safe, go--but be careful. Good-morning. When you return come to
this door and give three knocks."
I rushed up the path she had pointed out, and heard the door close
behind me as I went. I had not gone far, however, before I saw a dark
form moving among the trees.
"Who goes there?" said a voice.
I made no reply, but rushed on.
"Stop or I fire."
At this I made a sudden halt.