There was no help for it. Once more we mounted; Dolly, again, assisted

by the host, and not by me: but Anne was gracious enough to accept my

ministrations.

For a few miles all went well: but the roads hereabouts were very soft

and boggy; it was next to impossible sometimes to know whether we were

right or not; and after a while one of my men waited for me--he that

carried the lantern to guide the rest of us. The first I saw of him was

his horse's ears, very black, like a pair of horns, against the lighted

mist. "Sir," he said, "I do not know the road. I can see not five yards,

light or no light."

I called out to James.

"James," said I, "do you know where we are?"

"No, sir," said he, "at least not very well."

"Cousin," I said--(for Dolly had reined up her horse close behind, not

knowing, I suppose, that I was so near). "Cousin, I am sorry to trouble

you; but unless you can lead us--"

"Give me the lantern," she said sharply to my man.

She took it from him, and pushed forwards. I wheeled my horse after her

and followed. The rest fell in behind somewhere. I did not say one word,

good or bad; for a certain thought had come to me of what might happen.

She thought, I suppose, that Anne was behind her.

So impatient was my Cousin Dolly, that, certain of her road, as she

supposed, she urged her horse presently into a kind of amble. I urged

mine to the same; and so, for perhaps ten minutes, we rode in silence. I

could hear the horses behind--or rather the sucking noise of their

feet,--fall behind a little, and then a little more. The men were

talking, too; and so was Anne, to them--for she liked men's company, and

did not get very much of it in Dolly's service--and this I suppose was

the reason why they did not notice how the distance grew between us.

After about ten minutes I heard a man shout; but the fog deadened his

voice, so that it sounded a great way off; and Dolly, I suppose, thought

he was not of our party at all; for she never turned her head; and

besides, she was intent on hating me, and that, I think, absorbed her

more than she knew. I said nothing; I rode on in silence, seeing her

like an outline only in the dark, now and again--and, more commonly

nothing but a kind of lighted mist, now and then obscured. It appeared

to me that we were very far away to the right; but then I never

professed to know the way; and it was no business of mine. Truly the

very courses of nature fought against my cousin and her passionate ways.

Presently I turned at a sound; and there was James' mare at my heels. I

knew her even in the dark, by the white blaze on her forehead. I had

been listening for the voices; and had not noticed he was there. I

reined up, instantly; and as he came level I plucked his sleeve.

"James," I whispered in Italian, lest Dolly should catch even a phrase

of what I said--"not a word. Go back and find the others. Leave us. We

will find our way."

James was an exceedingly discreet and sensible fellow--as I knew. He

reined back upon the instant, and was gone in the black mist; and I

could hear his horse's footsteps passing into the distance. What he

thought, God and he alone knew; for he never told me.

The soft sound of the hoofs was scarcely died away, before I too had to

pull in suddenly; for there were the haunches of Dolly's horse before

the very nose of my poor grey. She had halted; and was listening. I held

my breath.

"Anne," she said suddenly. "Anne, where are you?"

As in the Scripture--there was no voice nor any that answered. There was

no sound at all but the creaking of the harness, and the soft breathing

of the horses, for we had been coming over heavy ground. The world was

as if buried in wool.

"Anne," she said again; and I caught a note of fear in her voice.

"Cousin," said I softly, "I fear Anne is lost, and so are the rest. You

see you would not speak to me; and it was none of my business--"

"Who is that?" said she sharply. But she knew well enough.

I resolved to spare her nothing; for I was beginning to understand her a

little better.

"It is Cousin Roger," I said. "You see you said you knew the road, and

so--"

Then she lashed her horse suddenly; and I heard him plunge. But he could

not go fast, from the heaviness of the ground; and he was very weary

too, as were we all. Besides, she forgot that she carried the lantern, I

think; and I was able to follow her easily enough; as the light moved up

and down. Then the light halted once more; and I saw a great whiteness

beyond it which I could not at first understand.

I came up quietly; and spoke again.

"Dolly, my dear; we had best have a little truce--an armed truce, if you

will--but a truce. You can be angry with me again afterwards."

"You coward!" she said, with a sob in her voice, "to lead me away like

this--"

"My dear, it was you who did the leading. Do me bare justice. I have

followed very humbly."

She made no answer.

"Cousin; be reasonable," I said. "Let us find the way out of this; and

when we are clear you can say what you will--or say nothing once more."

She took me at my word, and preserved her deadly silence.

I slipped off my horse; she was within an arm's length, and, not

trusting her, I passed my arm with scarcely a noticeable movement

through her bridle. It was well that I did so; for an instant after she

tore at the bridle, not knowing I had hold of it, and lashed her horse

again, thinking to escape whilst I was on the ground. I was very near

knocked down by the horse's shoulder, but I slipped up my hand and

caught him close to the bit--holding my own with my other hand.

"You termagant!" I said, as soon as I had them both quiet; for I was

very angry indeed to be treated so after all my gentleness. "No more

trust for me. It would serve you right if I left you here."

"Leave me," she wailed, "leave me, you coward!"

I set my teeth.

"I shall not," I said. "I shall punish you by remaining. I know you hate

my company. Well, you will submit to it, then, because I choose so. Now

then, let us see--"

Then she burst out suddenly into a passion of weeping. I set my teeth

harder than ever. There was only one way, after all, to get the better

of Dolly; and I had pitched on it.

"Yes: it is very well to cry," I said. "You nearly had me killed just

now. Well: you will have to listen to me presently, whether you like it

or not. Give me the lantern."

She made no movement. She had fought down the tears a little; but I

could hear her breath still sobbing. I reached up and took the lantern

from her right hand.

"Now; where in God's name are we?" said I.

We had ridden into some kind of blind alley, I presently saw; and that

was why Dolly's horse had halted. Even that I had not owed to her

goodwill. For we had ridden, I saw presently, lifting the lantern up and

down, into a great chalk pit; and must have turned off along the track

that led to it, from one of those sunken ways that drovers use to bring

their flocks up to the high road. That we were to the right of the high

road I was certain, of my own observation. _Ergo_; if we could get back

into the sunken way and turn to the right, we might find ourselves on

familiar ground again. However, I said nothing of this to Dolly. I was

resolved that she should suffer a little more first. I took the bridles

of the two horses more securely, slipping my hand with the lantern

through the bridle of my own, turned their heads round and walked

between them, looking very closely on this side and that, and turning my

lantern every way. After twenty yards I saw that I was right. The bank

on my left proved to be no bank, but the cliff-edge of the chalk pit

only, by which the sunken way passed very near. I led the horses round

to the right; and there were we, in the very situation I had surmised.

Still holding Dolly's bridle, I mounted my own horse; and when I had

done so, to secure myself and her the better, I pulled the reins

suddenly over her horse's head, and brought them into my left hand.

"That is safer," I observed. "Now we can pretend to be friends again;

and hold that conversation of which I spoke after we left London."

There was no answer, as we set out along the way. It was a little

clearer by now; and I could see the bank on my right. I glanced at her;

and in the light of the lantern I could see that she was sitting very

upright and motionless like a shadow. I lowered the lantern to the right

side, so that she was altogether in the dark and the bank illuminated. I

felt a little compassion for her indeed; but I dared not shew it.

"Now, Cousin," I said, "I preached to His Majesty yesterday; and he

told me I should be a Bishop at least. Now it is you that must hear a

sermon."

Again she said nothing.

I had rehearsed pretty well by now all that I meant to say to her; and

it was good for me that I had, else I might have fallen weak again when

I saw her so unhappy. As it was I kept back some of the biting sentences

I had prepared. My address was somewhat as follows. We jogged forward

very gingerly as I spoke.

"Cousin," I began, "you have treated me very ill. The first of your

offences to me was that, though I had earned, I think, the right to call

myself your friend, neither you nor your father gave me any hint

whatever of your going to Court. I know very well why you did not; and I

shall have a little discourse to make to your father upon the matter, at

the proper time. But for all that I had a right to be told. If you were

to go, I might at least have got you better protection in the beginning

than that of the--the--well--of Her Grace of Portsmouth.

"Now all that was the cause of the very small offence that I committed

against you myself--that of forcing my way into your lodgings. For that

I offer my apologies--not for the fact, but for the manner of it. And

even that apology is not very deep: I shall presently tell you why.

"The next of your offences to me was that open defiance which you

shewed, and some of the words you addressed to me, both then and

afterwards. You have told me I was a coward, several times, under

various phrases, and twice, I think, _sans phrase_. Cousin; I am a great

many things I should not be; but I do not think I am a coward; at least

I have never been a coward in your presence. Again, you have told me

that I was very good at bullying. For that I thank God, and gladly plead

guilty. If a maid is bent on her own destruction, if nothing else will

serve she must be bullied out of it. Again, I thank God that I was there

to do it."

I looked at her out of the tail of my eye. Her head seemed to me to be a

little hung down; but she said nothing at all.

"The third offence of yours is the intolerable discourtesy you have

shewn to me all to-day--and before servants, too. I put myself to great

pains to get you out of that stinking hole called Whitehall; I risked

His Majesty's displeasure for the same purpose: I have been at your

disposal ever since noon; and you have treated me like a dog. You will

continue to treat me so, no doubt, until we get to Hare Street; and you

will do your best no doubt to provoke a quarrel between your father and

myself. Well; I have no great objection to that; but I have not deserved

that you should behave so. I have done nothing, ever since I have known

you, but try to serve you--" (my voice rose a little; for I was truly

moved, and far more than my words shewed)--"You first treated me like a

friend; then, when you would not have me as a lover, I went away, and I

stayed away. Then, when you would not have me as a lover, and I would

not have you as my friend, I became, I think I may fairly say, your

defender; and all that you do in return--"

Then, without any mistake at all, I caught the sound of a sob; and all

my pompous eloquence dropped from me like a cloak. My anger was long

since gone, though I had feigned it had not. To be alone with her there,

enclosed in the darkness as in a little room--her horse and mine nodding

their heads together, and myself holding her bridle--all this, and the

silence round us, and my own heart, very near bursting, broke me down.

"Oh! Dolly," I cried. "Why are you so bitter with me? You know that I

have never thought ill of you for an instant. You know I have done

nothing but try to serve you--I have bullied you? Yes: I have; and I

would do the same a thousand times again in the same cause. You are

wilful and obstinate; but I thank God I am more wilful and obstinate

than you. I am sick of this fencing and diplomacy and irony. You know

what I am--I am not at all the fine gentleman that leaned his head on

the chimney-breast--that was make-believe and foolishness. I am a bully

and a brute--you have told me so--"

"Oh!" wailed Dolly suddenly--no longer pretending; and I caught the

note in her voice for which I had been waiting. I dropped the lantern;

the horses plunged violently at the flare and the crash; but I cared

nothing for that. I dragged furiously on the bridle; and as the horses

swung together, I caught her round the shoulders, and kissed her

fiercely on the cheek. She clung to me, weeping.

CHAPTER V

Well; I had beaten her at last; and in the only way in which she would

yield. Weakness was of no use with her, nor gentleness, nor even that

lofty patronage which, poor fool! I had shewn her in the parlour at Hare

Street. She must be man's mate--which is certainly a rather savage

relation at bottom--not merely his pretty and grateful wife. This I

learned from her, as we rode onwards and up into the high road--(where,

I may say in passing, there was no sign of our party)--though she did

not know she was telling it me.

"Oh! Roger," she said. "And I thought you were a--a pussy-cat."

"That is the second time I have been told so in two days," I said.

"Who told you so?"

"His Majesty."

"I thought His Majesty was wiser," said she.

"He has been pretty wise, though," I said. "If it were not for him, we

should not be riding here together."

"I suppose you made him do that too," she said.

* * * * *

But it was not only of Dolly that I had learned my lessons; it was of

myself also. I was astonished how inevitable it appeared to me now that

we should be riding together on such terms; and I understood that never,

for one instant, all through this miserable year away from her, had I

ever, interiorly, loosed my hold upon her. Beneath all my resolutions

and wilful distractions the intention had persevered. All the while I

was saying to myself in my own mind that I should never see Dolly again,

something that was not my mind--(I suppose my heart)--was telling me the

precise opposite. Well; the heart had been right, after all.

* * * * *

She asked me presently what I should say to her father.

"I shall forgive him a great deal now, that I thought I never should,"

I said with wonderful magnanimity. "A few sharp words only, and no more.

You see, my dear, it was through his sending you to Court--"

"Yes: yes," she said.

"He has behaved abominably, however," I said, "and I shall tell him so.

Dolly, my love."

"Yes," said she.

"I must go back very soon to town. I have been offered a piece of work;

and even if I do not accept it, I must speak of it to them."

"Them?"

"Yes, my dear. I must say no more than that. It is _secretum commissum_

as we say in Rome."

"And to think that you were a Benedictine novice!" exclaimed Dolly.

We talked awhile of that then; she asked me a number of questions that

may be imagined under such circumstances: and my answers also can be

imagined; and we spoke of a great number of things, she and I riding

side by side in the dark, our very horses friendly one with another--she

telling me all of how she went to Court, and why she went, and I telling

her my side of the affair--until at last in Puckeridge a man ran out

from the inn yard to say that our party was within and waiting for us.

They had met, it appeared, a rustic fellow who had set them right, soon

after they had lost us.

I do not know what they thought at first; but I know what they thought

in the end; for I rated them very soundly for not keeping nearer to us;

and bade James ride ahead with the lantern with all the rest between,

and Dolly and I in the rear to keep them from straying again. In this

manner then did she and I contrive to have a great deal more

conversation before we came a little before midnight to Hare Street.

The village was all dark as we came through it; and all dark was the

House when we pushed open the yard gates and rode in. We went through

and beat upon the door, and presently heard a window thrown up.

"Who is there?" cried my Cousin Tom's voice.

I bade Dolly's maid answer. (She was all perplexed, poor wench, at the

change of relations between her mistress and me.)

"It is Mistress Jermyn, sir," she said.

"Yes, father; I have come back," cried Dolly.

There was an exclamation from poor Tom; and in two or three minutes we

saw a light beneath the door, and heard him drawing the bolts. I pushed

Dolly and her maid forward as the door opened, and then myself strode

suddenly forward into the light.

"Why--God bless--" cried Tom; who was in his coat and shoes. I could see

how his face fell when he saw me. I looked at him very grimly: but I

said nothing to him at once (for I was sorely tempted to laugh at his

apparition), but turned to James and bade him see to the rest and find

beds somewhere. Then I went after Dolly and her father into the Great

Chamber, still with my hat on my head and looking very stern. He was

talking very swiftly in a low voice to Dolly; but he stopped when I came

in.

"Yes, Cousin Tom," I said, "I am come back again--all unlooked for, as I

see."

"But, good God!" he cried. "What is the matter; and why is Dolly here? I

was but just asking--"

I pulled out the King's paper which I had all ready, and thrust it down

before the lantern that he had put on the table: and I waited till he

had read it through.

"There, Cousin!" I said when he was staring on me again, "that is enough

warrant for both you and me, I think. Have you anything to say?"

He began to bluster.

"Cousin," I said, "if I have any patience it is because Dolly has given

it back to me. You had best not say too much. You have done all the harm

you could; and it is only by God's mercy that it has not been greater."

He said that he was Dolly's father and could do as he pleased. Besides,

she herself had consented.

"I know that," I said, "because she has told me so; and that it was in

despair that she went, because we two fools bungled our business. Well,

you may be her father; but the Scripture tells us that a woman must

leave her father and cleave to her husband; and that is what I am to be

to her."

Well; when I said that, there was the Devil to pay--we three standing

there in the cold chamber, with the draughts playing upon poor Tom's

legs. He looked a very piteous object, very much fallen from that fine

figure that he had presented when I had first set eyes on him; but he

strove to compensate by emphasis what he lacked in dignity. He said that

he had changed his mind; that even third cousins once removed should not

marry; that he had now other designs for his daughter; that I had no

right to dictate to him in his own house. He waxed wonderfully warm; but

even then, in the first flush of his resistance I thought I saw a kind

of wavering. I sat with one leg across the corner of the great table

until he was done; while Dolly sat in a chair, turning her merry eyes

from the one to the other of us. For myself, I felt no lack of

confidence. I had beaten the daughter; now I was to beat the father.

When he had finished, and drew breath, I stood up.

"Very bravely said, Cousin, bare legs and all," I said. "We will speak

of it all again to-morrow. But now for a bite; we have been riding since

noon."

It was very strange to go upstairs again after a mouthful or two, and a

glass of warm ale, and see my chamber again from which I had departed in

such unhappiness near a twelvemonth ago. James had made a little fire

for me, before which I drew off my boots and undressed myself. For it

was from this very chamber that I had gone forth in such despair, when

Dolly had said that she would not have me: and now, here I was in it

again, all glowing with my ride and my drink and my great content,

having kissed Dolly just now in her father's presence as a symbol of

our troth. And so I went to bed and dreamed and woke and dreamed again.

We had our talk out next morning, Tom pacing up and down the Great

Chamber, until I entreated him for God's sake to sit down and save my

stiff neck. He was very high at first; but I was astonished how quickly

he came down.

"That is very well," I said, "to speak now of better prospects for

Dolly. But you will do me the honour of remembering, my dear Cousin,

that in this very room once you spoke to me very differently. If you

have changed your mind, you might at least have told me so; for I have

not changed mine at all; and Dolly, it seems, is come round to my way of

thinking at last."

"But how did you do it?" asked he, stopping in his walk.

"I lost my temper altogether," said I; "and that is a very good way if

you have tried all the rest."

"But the King, man, the King! How did you get that paper out of him? Why

His Majesty himself, I am told, took particular notice--"

"Eh?" said I.

"That is no matter now," he said. "What were you going to say?"

"I must have that first," said I.

Tom began to pace the floor again.

"It is nothing at all, Cousin. It is that His Majesty spoke very kindly

to my daughter upon her first coming to Court."

"I am glad I did not know that," I said, "or I might have said more to

him."

"Well; but what did you say?"

Now I was in half a dozen minds as to what I should tell him. He knew

for certain nothing at all of my comings and goings and of what I did

for the King; yet I thought that he must have guessed a good deal. I

judged it safer, therefore, to tell him a little, to stop his month; but

not too much.

"Why," I said very carefully, "I have been of a little service to the

King; and His Majesty was good enough to ask me if there were any

little favour he could do me. So that is what I asked him."

Tom stopped in his pacing again: and it was then that I entreated him to

sit down and talk like a Christian. He did so, without a word.

"In France, I suppose?" he said immediately after.

"Why, yes."

Tom looked at me again.

"And you travel with four men now, instead of one."

"I find it more convenient," I said.

"And more expensive too," he observed.

"Why, yes: a little more expensive, too," I answered. But I was a shade

uneasy; because this increase of servants was at His Majesty's desire

and cost. I made haste to turn the conversation back once more. I did

not wish Tom to think that I was of any importance at all.

"Well; but what of Dolly?" I said.

It was then that my Cousin suddenly came down from his loftiness. He

seemed to awake out of a little reverie.

"You come into the enjoyment of your property," he said, "in four years

from now?"

"In less than that," I said. "It is three years and a half. My birthday

is in June."

He asked me one or two more questions then as to its amount, and what

arrangements I would make in the event of my marriage. When I had

satisfied him upon these matters, he fell again into a reverie.

"Well?" said I, a little sharply.

"Cousin," he said, "I do not wish to stand in your way. But there must

be no talk of marriage till '85. Will that content you?"

It did not in the least; but it was what I had expected. I was scarcely

rich enough yet to support a wife, and knew that, well enough; for if I

married and left the King's service there would be no more travelling

expenses for me. Dolly and I last night had agreed upon that as the

least that we could consent to.

"Four years is a long time," said I.

"You said three and a half just now," he observed a little bitterly.

"Well: three and a half. I suppose I must take that, if I can get

nothing better."

* * * * *

Now I was secretly a little astonished that my Cousin Tom had consented

so quickly, after his recent ambitions. Plainly he had aimed higher than

at my poor standard during those months; for when a maid went to Court

as one of the Queen's ladies the least that was expected of her was that

she would marry a pretty rich man. But the reason of it all was

unpleasantly evident to me. He must have gathered from what I had said

and done that my favour was increasing with the King; and therefore he

must have argued too that I must be serving His Majesty in some very

particular way--which was the very last thing I desired him to know, as

he was such a gossip. But I dared say no more then. We grasped one

another's hands very heartily: and then I went to find Dolly.

* * * * *

The days that followed were very happy ones--though, as I shall

presently relate, they were to be interrupted once more. I had in my

mind, during them all, that I must soon go up to London again to tell

Mr. Chiffinch my final decision that I could not undertake the work that

he had proposed to me; for I had spoken of it at some length with Dolly,

giving her a confidence that I dared not give to her father. But I did

not think that I should have to go so soon.

It was in the hour before supper one evening that I told her of it, as

we sat in the tapestried parlour, looking into the fire from the settle

where we sat together.

"My dear," said I, "I wish to ask your advice. But it is a very private

matter indeed."

"Tell me," said Dolly contentedly. (Her hand was in mine, and she looked

extraordinary pretty in the firelight.)

"I am asked whether I will undertake a little work. In itself it is

excellent. It concerns the protection of His Majesty; but it is the

means that I am doubtful about."

Then I told her that of the details--of the how and the when and the

where--I knew no more than she: but that, if all went well, I might find

myself trusted by a traitor: and that I was considering whether in such

a cause as this it was a work to which I could put my hand, to betray

that trust, if I got it. But before I was done speaking I knew that I

could not--so wonderfully does speaking to another clear one's mind--and

that though I could not condemn outright a man who thought fit to do so,

any more than I would condemn a scavenger for cleaning the gutter, it

was not work for a gentleman to seek out a confidence that he might

betray it again.

"Now that I have put it into words," I said, "I see that it cannot be

done. Certainly it would advance me very much with His Majesty; (and

that is one reason why I spoke to you of it)--but such advance would be

too dearly bought. Do you not think so too, my dear?"

She nodded slowly and very emphatically three or four times, without

speaking, as her manner was.

"Then that is decided," said I, "and in a day or two I will go to town

and tell them so."

So we put the matter away then; and spoke of matters far more dear to

both of us, until Tom came in and exclaimed at our sitting in the dark

as he called it.

* * * * *

The interruption came that very night.

We were at supper, and speaking of Christmas, and of how we would have

again the dancing as last year, when we heard a man ride past the house,

pulling up his horse as he came. Such interruptions came pretty

often;--it was so that I had been first sent for by Mr. Chiffinch: and

it was so again that the Duke of Monmouth had come, and others--but we

had plenty too of others who came, seeing the house at the end of the

village, to ask their way, or what not; so we paid no attention to it.

Presently, however, we heard a man's steps come along the paved walk,

and then a knocking at the door. James went out to see who was there;

and came back immediately saying that it was a courier with a letter for

me. My conscience smote me a little, for I had delayed more than a week

now from answering Mr. Chiffinch: and, sure enough, when I went out,

the man was come from him. I took the letter he gave me into the Great

Chamber to read it, and was astonished at its contents. There were but

four lines in it.

"Mr. Mallock," it ran, "come immediately--that is to-morrow. The Lord

hath delivered them into our hands. Ride by Amwell; and go through the

place slowly between eleven and twelve with no servant near." And it was

signed with his initials only.

I went back again into the dining-room immediately, and shut the door

behind me.

"I must go to town, to-morrow," I said, all short.

Dolly looked up at me, gone a little white. I shook my head and smiled

at her, but secretly; so that Tom did not see.

CHAPTER VI

I do not think that I have yet related how great was the work that Mr.

Chiffinch had done in the matter of the spies that he had everywhere

during those later years of His Majesty Charles the Second. That which

he had done during Monmouth's progress in the north--his receiving of

reports day by day, and even hour by hour--this was only one instance of

his activity. The secret-looking men, or even the bold-looking

gentlemen, whom I had met on his stairs so continually, or for whose

sake I was kept waiting sometimes when I went to see him--these were his

tools and messengers. This company of spies was of all grades; and it

was to serve in that company that he had sent for me from France, and

that I was determined to decline.

Though, however, I was so determined, I did not dare to disobey the

directions that his letter gave me; for I could not be sure that it was

for this work in particular that he had summoned me; though I guessed

that it was. I would go, thought I, and do in everything as he had said;

I would ride through Amwell, with my servants behind at a good distance:

I would see what befell me there--for that something would, was certain

from the letter; then I would proceed on to London, and if the affair

were against my honour, as I was sure it would be, I would refuse any

further part in it. My one hardship was that I could do no more than

tell Dolly in private that I would hold to my resolution. I dared not

tell her anything of the contents of the letter which I had immediately

destroyed. I promised her that I would be back for Christmas at the

latest. She came out to the yard-gate to wish me good-bye: my servants

were gone in front; and my Cousin Tom had the sense to be out of the

way; so our good-byes were all that such miserable things ever can be. I

waved to her at the corner, and she waved back.

When we came about two miles to the north of Amwell--which we did about

eleven o'clock, as I had been bid, I bade my servants stay behind, and

not come after me till half an hour later; further I bade them, if, when

they came, they found me in any man's company, neither to salute me nor

to make any sign of recognition; but to pass straight on to Hoddesdon

and wait for me there, not at the inn where I was known, but at another

little one--the _King's Arms_--at the further end of the village, and

there they were to dine. Even then, when I came, if I did, they were not

to salute me until I had spoken with them. All this I did, interpreting

as well as I could, what Mr. Chiffinch had said; and they, since they

were well-trained in that kind of service, understood me perfectly.

It was near half-past eleven when I came, riding very slowly, into the

village street, looking this way and that so as to shew my face, but as

if I were just looking about me. I noticed a couple of servants, in a

very plain livery which I thought I had seen before, in the yard of the

_Mitre_, but they paid no attention to me. So I passed up the street to

the end, and no one spoke with me or shewed any sign. Now I knew that

there was something forward, and that unless I fell in with it the

arrangement would have failed; so I turned again and rode back, as if I

were looking for an inn. Again no one spoke with me; so I rode, as if

discontented, into the yard of the _Mitre_, and demanded of an ostler

whether there was any food fit to eat there.

He looked at me in a kind of hesitation.

"Yes, sir," he said; "but--but the parlour is full. A party is there,

from London."

Then I knew that I had been right to come; because at the same moment I

remembered where I had seen those liveries before. They were those worn

by the men who had come with Monmouth to Hare Street.

I said nothing to the ostler; but slipped off my horse, as he took the

bridle, and went indoors. The fellow called out after me; but I made as

if I did not hear. (I have found, more than once, that a little deafness

is a very good thing.) There were voices I heard talking beyond a door

at the end of the passage; I went up to this, and without knocking,

lifted the latch and went in.

The room, that looked out, with one window only, into a small enclosed

garden, was full of men. There were eight of them, as I counted

presently; all round a table on which stood a couple of tall jugs and

tankards. I raised my hand to my hat.

"I beg pardon, gentlemen. Is there room--"

"Why--it is Mr.--" I heard a voice say, suddenly stifled.

Beyond that, for a moment, there was silence. Then a man stood up

suddenly, with a kind of eagerness.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "Mr. Mallock! Do you not remember me?"

"Your back is to the light, sir--" I began; and then: "Why it is Mr.

Rumbald."

"The same, sir; the same. There is a friend of yours, here, sir--Come in

and sit down, sir. There is plenty of room for another friend."

There was a very curious kind of eagerness in the maltster's voice,

which puzzled me not a little; and there was a change of manner too in

him, that puzzled me no less. He spoke as if he had almost expected me,

or was peculiarly astonished to see me there; and there was none of that

hail-fellow air about him any more. He spoke to me as to a gentleman--as

indeed I shewed I was by my dress--but yet manifested no surprise at

seeing me so. However, I had neither time nor thought to consider this

at the moment, for the friend of mine of whom he spoke, and who was now

standing up to greet me, was no other than my Lord Essex--he who had

been riding with Monmouth from Newmarket; and he whose name Mr.

Chiffinch had expressly spoken of to me. Yet how did Mr. Rumbald know

that we knew one another?

I made haste to salute him; for he too, I thought, had an air of

eagerness.

"Come in and sit down, Mr. Mallock," he said. "We have dined early; and

are presently off to town again. Are you riding our way?"

"Why, yes," I said, "I am going up to my lodgings for a little."

(As I spoke a thousand questions beseiged me. Why was there this air of

expectation in them at all? How did Mr. Chiffinch know that they would

be here at this time? Why had he arranged that I should meet them? Why

had he not spoken of their names to me; since he had told me so freely

of them before? Well; I must wait, thought I, and meantime go very

gingerly. I was not going to put my hand to this kind of work; but I did

not wish to spoil Mr. Chiffinch's design if I could help it.)

"Why," said my Lord, "if you are going to town, may I not ride with you?

Some of these gentlemen are in a hurry; but I am sure I am not. Have you

no servants, Mr. Mallock?"

"I have sent mine on before," I said, marvelling more than ever at the

man's friendliness, "but I shall be very happy to ride with your

Lordship, if you can wait till I have dined."

My Lord said a word to a man who sat near the door, who slipped out: and

I heard his voice ordering dinner for me. Meantime I observed the

company.

There were eight, as I have said; but I knew for certain two only--the

maltster and my Lord Essex. The rest puzzled me not a little. They

seemed well-bred fellows enough; but they were dressed very plainly, and

appeared no more than country squires or lawyers or suchlike. They were

talking of the most indifferent things in the world, with silences, as

if they wondered what next to speak of; they hardly looked at me at all

after a minute or two; and presently one by one began to stand up and

take their leave, saluting my Lord by name, and bowing only to me. By

the time that my dinner came there were left only my Lord, who was very

attentive to me, and Mr. Rumbald; and before I was well set-to, even Mr.

Rumbald stood up to say good-bye.

Again I was puzzled by the man; for again he appeared very friendly with

me, and again shewed no sign of astonishment at my acquaintance with my

Lord and at my appearance as a gentleman.

"I am very glad, sir," he said, shaking my hand with great warmth,

"that you will have so pleasant a ride to town with your friend. And you

will remember my house too, will you not, over the river, if ever you

are by that way."

I told him that I would: and thanked him for his courtesy; and he went

out, after shaking hands too with my Lord, taking care to exchange no

glances with him, though it would be evident, even to a child, that

there was some secret between them.

When he was gone, my Lord turned to me.

"A very good fellow, Rumbald--a very good fellow indeed."

I assented, heartily.

"Honest as the day," said my Lord.

"There is no doubt of it," said I, with my mouth full.

"And a good patriot too. It is what we want, Mr. Mallock."

Again I assented; and my Lord presently changed the conversation.

* * * * *

During the rest of dinner he said nothing that was significant of any of

the things I suspected. I knew now, beyond a doubt, both from what Mr.

Chiffinch had said and from the strangely mixed company, and the

circumstances under which I found them, that something was forward; but

as to what it was all about I knew no more than the dead. Neither did I

as yet see a single glimmer of light on the questions that had puzzled

me just now. So I determined that when we were safe out on the lonely

road I would throw a bait or two; though my resolution still held that I

would do no dirty work, even for His Majesty himself.

I dined very tolerably, and lit a pipe afterwards: (my Lord told me that

he used no tobacco); and presently in a kind of impatience--for indeed

the position I found myself in was a little disconcerting--I observed

that it was past noon.

"You are quite right," said my Lord, "quite right. I will tell them to

have the horses ready. Your servants are gone on before, I think you

said, Mr. Mallock?"

I told him Yes; but I wondered why he did not shout for the maid,

instead of going out himself; but I understood the reason when I found

presently, when we took the road, that his own men kept a full hundred

yards in the rear. Evidently he had gone out to tell them to do so.

* * * * *

So soon as we were clear of Amwell, I began. There was a little wind,

and the weather was moist and thick, so there was no danger of our being

overheard.

"My Lord," I said, "I am very much puzzled by what I have seen."

"Eh?" said he.

"It was a very mixed company just now, in Amwell."

He frowned a little.

"Very excellent gentlemen, all of them--" I hastened to add. "But I was

wondering what it was that drew them all together. I can only think of

two things."

"What are they, Mr. Mallock?" asked my Lord a little eagerly.

"Religion or politics, my Lord," I said. "And I am sure that it is not

the first."

He appeared to reflect; but he was not a very good actor; and I could

see that it was feigned.

"Why you are very sharp, sir," he said. "You have put your finger on the

very place--the very place." (And he continued with far too short a

pause): "On which side are you, Mr. Mallock? For the country or for the

Court?"

"That is a dangerous question to answer, my Lord," I said, very short.

"It is only dangerous for one side," said he.

I nodded, in a grave and philosophical manner. Then I sighed.

"You are quite right, my Lord."

I could see that he was glancing at me continually. Yet no explanation

of his behaviour yet crossed my mind.

"Mr. Mallock," said he after a silence, "it is no good fencing about the

question. I can see that you are disaffected."

"That is a very safe way to put it," I said. "Who is not--on one side

or the other?"

"Yes," said he, "but you are sharp enough to know what I mean."

Again I nodded; but my mind was working like a mill; for a new thought

had come to me that seemed to illumine all the rest; and yet I could not

understand. The thought was this. Plainly my Lord Essex knew a good deal

about me: he knew enough, that is, to begin a conversation of this kind

with one whom he had only met once before--a mad proceeding altogether,

if that were all he knew. _Ergo_, thought I, he must know more than

that; and if he knew more he must know that I was in the service of His

Majesty and presumably devoted to that service; probably, too, from the

understanding between himself and Rumbald, he knew that I had chosen on

previous occasions to masquerade as if I were not a gentleman. Was he

quite mad then? For to talk like this to one in the confidence of His

Majesty was surely a crazed proceeding! Yet my Lord Essex was not a

fool.

Looking back upon the matter as I write, it is hard for me to understand

why I did not see through his design, since I saw so much of it. Yet it

was not until London was in sight, or rather its lights against the sky,

that all fell into its place; and I wondered at the simplicity of it. I

think that it was the way he talked to me--the manner in which he

skirted continually on the fringe of treason, yet said nothing that I

could lay hold upon, and, above all, mentioned no names--that gave me

the clue. I fear I fell a little silent as I perceived how point after

point ratified the conclusion to which I had come; but I do not think he

noticed it; and, even if he did, it would only encourage him the more.

And when I saw the whole, as plain as a map, my scruples left me

altogether. I would not have betrayed the true confidence of this man,

or of any other; that resolution still held firm; but this was another

matter altogether.

By the time that we reached Covent Garden--for he rode with me as far as

that--I think he was satisfied that he had caught me in the way that he

wished; for he had given me the names of one or two places where I

could communicate with him if I desired; and was nearer actual treason

in his talk than ever before--though he did not go much beyond deploring

the Popish succession, and feigning that he did not know that I was a

Catholic; and, on my side, I had feigned to be greatly interested in all

that he had said, and had let him see, though not too evidently, that it

was feigning on my side too. We parted, outwardly, the best of friends;

inwardly we were at one another's throats.

So soon as I had dismounted--he having left me in the Strand--and gone

indoors, I came out again, not fearing, indeed rather hoping, that he

would be watching for me, and, in my boots just as I was, set out for

Whitehall.

* * * * *

Mr. Chiffinch was within, expecting me. Even he looked a little excited;

and no wonder. But first I made him answer my questions before I would

say a word beyond telling him that his design had prospered.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I over my supper which he had brought for me to

his parlour. "Before I say one more word, you must tell me three or four

things. The first is this. How did you know that it was in me that my

Lord Essex would confide?"

"That is easily answered," said he. "My men told me that my Lord was

after you everywhere--both in your lodgings and here."

"Ah!" I said, "and was there a fellow called Rumbald, with him?"

"You are right," he said. "How did you know that?"

"Wait," I said. "The next is, If you could tell me so much in your

letter, why did you not tell me the names of the persons?"

He smiled.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "from your hesitation I knew that you would

refuse to do such work as this. So I intended to catch you unawares, and

to entangle you in it. I knew that you would not refuse to go to Amwell,

and behave there as I directed, if I said no more than I did."

"Well; you would have failed," I said.

"What!" said he. "You are still going to refuse?"

"No," said I, "I accept the work: but it is not what you think it is."

"Why--what is it then?"

"Wait," I said. "The next is, How did you know that they would be at

Amwell at that time?"

"Oh! that is easy enough; one of my fellows got that out of one of

Rumbald's maids--that a party of six would lie at the Ryehouse last

night; and that they would meet two more at dinner in Amwell at eleven

o'clock to-day. Rumbald has been known to us a long while. But it is the

others we are waiting for."

I was silent. There were no more questions I wished to ask at present;

though there might be others later.

"Well," said the page, a little eagerly; and his narrow face looked very

like a fox's, as he spoke. "Well; and what is your news?"

I finished my stew, and laid down the spoon.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I, "let me first ask one more question. Why do you

think that my Lord Essex was after me at all? How did he know of me?"

"Plainly from Rumbald," said he.

"And why did he want me?"

He smiled.

"Why, Rumbald thinks you disaffected towards the King; and yet knows you

are in his service. You would be a very great helper to them, if you

cared."

It was my turn to smile.

"My Lord Essex is not a fool," I said. "If they know so much of me,

would they not know more?"

"Plainly they do not," he said. "Or they would not have tried to get you

on their side."

I laughed softly.

"Sir," I said, "you are very sharp: but you are not sharp enough."

Then I related to him the behaviour of them all in the inn; and how

Rumbald had shewn no surprise in seeing that I was a gentleman after

all; and how my Lord Essex had talked in what would have been the

maddest manner, if his intention had been as Chiffinch had thought it to

be; and with every word that I said the page's face grew longer.

"Well," he cried, "it is beyond me altogether. What then is the

explanation?"

"My friend," I said, "you were right. Neither before nor after what has

passed to-day would I have done the work you designed for me which was

to get these men's confidence, and then betray it again. But it is not

their idea to give me their confidence at all. So I will work with you

very gladly."

"But then what can you do--" he began in amazement.

"Listen," I said. "It will fall out just as I say. They will give me

very few names; they will admit me to none of their real secrets; but

yet they will feign to do so."

"But, what a' God's name--"

"Oh! man!" I cried, "you are surely slow-witted to-day. They will do all

this--" (I leaned forward as I spoke for further emphasis)--"_in order

that I may hand it on to His Majesty_; but they will give me no real

secret till the climax is come, and their designs perfected. And then

they will give me a false one altogether. They think that they will make

me a tool to further their true plans by betraying false ones. We may

know this for certain then--that whatever they tell me, knowing that I

will tell you, is not what they intend, but something else altogether.

And it will not be hard to know the truth, if we are certified of what

is false."

* * * * *

There was complete silence in the room when I had finished, except for

the wash of the tide outside the windows. The man's mouth was open, and

his eyes set in thought. Then sense came back to his face; and he smiled

suddenly and widely.

"God!" he said, and slapped me suddenly on the thigh. "Good God! you

have hit it, I believe."

CHAPTER VII

From now onwards there began for me such a series of complications that

I all but despair of making clear even the course that they ran. My

diaries are filled with notes and initials and dates which I dared not

at the time set down more explicitly; and my memory is often confused

between them. For, indeed, my work in France was but child's play to

this, neither was there any danger in France such as was here.

For consider what, not a double part merely, but a triple, I had to

play. The gentlemen, who were beginning at this time to conspire in real

earnest against the King and the Constitution, some of whom afterwards,

such as my Lord Russell, suffered death for it, and others of whom like

my Lord Howard of Escrick escaped by turning King's evidence--although

their guilt was very various--these gentlemen, through my Lord Essex,

had got at me, as they thought, to betray not truth but falsehood to His

Majesty, and told me matters, under promise of secrecy, which they

intended me to tell to the King and his advisers. To them, therefore, I

had to feign feigning: I had to feign, that is, that I was feigning to

keep their confidence, but that in reality that I was betraying it;

while to Mr. Chiffinch I had to disclose these precious secrets not as

true but as false, and conjecture with him what was the truth. (My

evidence, later, was never called upon, nor did my name appear in any

way, for that the jury would never have understood it.) I had,

therefore, a double danger to guard against; first that which came from

the conspirators--the fear that they should discover I was tricking

them, or rather that I had discovered their trickery; and, on the other

side, that I should become involved with them in the fall that was so

certain from the beginning, and be myself accused of conspiracy--or of

misprision of treason at the least. Against the latter I guarded as well

as I could, by revealing to Mr. Chiffinch every least incident so soon

as it happened; and on three occasions in the following year having a

long discourse with His Majesty. But against the former danger I had

only my wits to protect me.

The best thing, therefore, that I can do is to relate a few of the

events that happened to me. (I have never, I think, experienced such a

strain on my wits; for it went on for a good deal more than a year,

since I could for a long time arrive at no certain proofs of the guilt

of the conspirators, and His Majesty did not wish to strike until their

conviction was assured.)

The first meeting of the conspirators to which I was admitted was in

January. (I had not been able, of course, to go to Hare Street for

Christmas; but the letters I had now and again from Dolly, greatly

encouraged and comforted me. I had told her that I "was keeping to my

resolution," but that "I should be in some peril for a good while to

come," and begged her to remember me often in her pure prayers.)

A fellow came to my lodgings about the middle of January, with a letter

from my Lord Essex. It ran as follows:

"SIR,--With regard to some matters of which we spoke together on the

occasion of our very pleasant ride to town last month, I am very anxious

to see you again. Pray do not write any answer to this; but if you can

meet me on Thursday night at the house of my friend Mr. West, in Creed

Lane, at nine o'clock, we may have a little conversation with some other

friends of ours. I am, sir, your obliged servant,

"Essex."

I told the fellow that the answer was Yes. My Lord had been to see me in

Covent Garden twice, but had said very little that was at all explicit;

but Mr. Chiffinch had bid me hold myself in readiness, and put aside all

else for the further invitations that would surely come. And so it had.

I found the house without difficulty; and was shewn into a little

parlour near the door; where presently my Lord came to me alone, all

smiles.

"I am very glad you are come, Mr. Mallock," he said. "I was sure that

you would. I have a few friends here who meet to talk politics; and they

would greatly like to hear your views on the points. I think I may now

venture to say that we know who you are, Mr. Mallock, and that you have

done a good deal for His Majesty in France. Your opinion then would be

of the greatest interest to us all."

(I understood why he put so much emphasis on France; it was to quiet me

as to any suspicions they thought I might have as to my being the King's

servant in England too.)

I answered him very civilly, smiling as if I was at my ease; and after a

word or two more he took me in. It was a long low room, with a beamed

ceiling and shuttered windows, in which the men were sitting. There were

six of them there; and I knew two of them, immediately. He that sat at

the head of the table, a very grim-looking man, with pointed features,

in an iron-grey peruke, was no other than my Lord Shaftesbury himself;

and the one on his left, with a highish colour in his cheeks, was my

Lord Grey. Of the rest I knew nothing; but those two were enough to shew

me that I must make no mistakes. There were candles on the table.

My Lord Essex smiled as he turned to me.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I see you know some of these gentlemen by

sight."

"I know my Lord Shaftesbury, and my Lord Grey by sight," I said, bowing

to each. They each inclined a little in return.

"And this is Mr. West," said my Lord.

This was a very busy-looking active little fellow, with bright dark

eyes. (He had the name of being an atheist, I learned afterwards.)

"Sit down, Mr. Mallock," said my Lord, pointing to a chair on my Lord

Shaftesbury's right. I did so. There was no servant in the room. The two

other men were presently made known to me as a Mr. Sheppard and a Mr.

Goodenough. I knew nothing of either of these two at this time.

Now it may seem that it was extraordinary bold of all these persons to

admit me, believing as they did, that I was on His Majesty's side, and

would reveal all to him; and it was, in one way, bold of them; yet it

was the more clever. For, as will appear, they said nothing to me at

present that could be taken hold of in any way; and yet they sent, or

rather thought they sent, to the King, false news that would help their

cause.

When he had discoursed for a little while on general matters, yet

drawing nearer ever to the point, my Lord Essex opened the engagement.

"That Mr. Rumbald," he said. "Do you know who he is, Mr. Mallock?"

"Why, he is a maltster, is he not?" I said.

"Well: he married a maltster's widow, who is dead now. But he is an

honest old Cromwellian--loyal enough to His Majesty--" (the gentlemen

all solemnly put hands to their hats)--"yet very greatly distressed at

the course things are taking."

"An old soldier?" I asked.

"Yes: he was a Colonel under Oliver."

Such was the opening; and after that we talked more freely, though not

so freely as, I doubt not, they had talked for an hour before I came. My

Lord Shaftesbury did not say a great deal; he had a quick discontented

look; but I think I satisfied him. He was in a very low condition at

this time--all but desperate--so strongly had the tide set against him

since my Lord Stafford's death and the reaction that followed it; and I

think he would have grasped at anything to further his fortunes: for

that was what he chiefly cared about. My Lord Essex did most of the

talking, and Mr. West; and I could see that they were shewing me off, as

a new capture, and one on whose treachery to them their hopes might

turn.

Now there were three or four matters on which they were very emphatic.

First, that no injury was intended to the King or the Duke of York; but

this they did not disclaim for themselves so much as for the disaffected

persons generally; as regards themselves they said little or nothing:

and from this I deduced that the King's life would certainly be aimed

at; and the more so, as they said what a pity it was that His Majesty's

guards were still doubled.

"It shews a lack of confidence in the people," said my Lord Essex.

(From that, then, I argued that an attempt was contemplated upon

Whitehall.)

The second thing that Mr. West was very emphatic upon was the need of

proceeding, if any reform were to be brought about, in a legal and

Parliamentary manner.

"Why does not His Majesty call another Parliament?" he added, "that at

least we may air our grievances? It is true enough that my Lord

Shaftesbury--" (here he bowed to my Lord who blinked in return)--"that

my Lord Shaftesbury found Parliament against him in the event; but he

does not complain of that. He hath at least been heard."

(From that I argued either that they thought they would be stronger in a

new Parliament, or that they contemplated acting in quite another

manner. I could not tell for certain which; but I supposed the latter.)

The third thing that Mr. Goodenough said, relating how he had heard it

from a Mr. Ferguson of Bristol, was that the West of England was in a

very discontented condition, and that His Majesty would do well to send

troops there.

Now I knew that his statement was tolerably true; and that therefore the

false part must be the second. The only conclusion I could draw was that

they wished troops to be withdrawn from London.

To all these things, however, I assented civilly, arguing a little, for

form's sake; but not too much.

* * * * *

When at last we broke up, my Lord Essex again came with me to the door,

and carried me first, for an instant into the little parlour.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "we have had a pleasant evening, have we not?

But I need not tell you that our talk had best not be repeated. We have

said not a word that is disloyal to His Majesty: but even a little

fault-finding is apt to be misrepresented in these days."

I said that I understood him perfectly (which indeed I did); and nodded

very sagely.

"Let us meet again, then, Mr. Mallock--on that understanding. I have

some more friends I would wish you to meet; and whom I am sure you could

do good to. There is a quantity of discontent about."

I went to see Mr. Chiffinch the next day, and reported all that had

passed, as they had intended me to do. We drew up a little report which

was carried into effect: first, that no troops should be sent out of

London; but that they should be dispersed as much as possible within the

confines of the City; next that the guards at the gates of Whitehall

should be diminished by one half--(this, to give colour to the

malcontents' hope; and provoke them to action)--but the guards within

increased by the same amount, yet kept out of sight so much as was

possible; thirdly, that a rumour should be set about that the King would

call a Parliament within the year at latest; and this Mr. Chiffinch

promised to undertake (for a very great effect indeed can be produced on

popular opinion by those who know the value of false rumours); but that

His Majesty should be dissuaded from doing anything of the kind. Such

then was the result of that first meeting to which I was admitted; and

such more or less was our course of procedure all through the spring and

summer. This I have related in full, to serve as an example of our

method, because, since it was the first, I remember it very distinctly.

In this manner I used the information I gained for the King's benefit;

and, at the same time the conspirators were led to believe that I was

their tool, and no more.

* * * * *

The next important incident fell in the beginning of the summer.

Now, in the meantime I had learned, from Mr. Chiffinch for the most

part, though there were some matters I was able rather to inform him

about, that there were two separate and distinct parties amongst the

conspirators. There were those who intended nothing but some kind of a

rising--scarcely more than an armed demonstration--and to this party

would belong such a man as my Lord Russell--if he were of them at all;

and there were those who meant a great deal more than this--who were

hoping, in fact so to excite their followers as to bring about the

King's death. But of these I found it very hard to get any names--and

quite impossible, so far, to obtain any positive proof at all. The Duke

of Monmouth, I knew, was of the moderate party; so, I thought then, was

my Lord Grey--but Mr. Algernon Sidney whom I met once or twice was of

the extreme side. But as to my Lord Shaftesbury, I knew nothing: he was

pretty silent always; and it was with regard to him most of all that we

desired evidence. It was this division of parties, no doubt, that

hindered any action; the moderates were for ever trying to drag back the

fanatics; and the fanatics to urge on the moderates; so that nothing was

done.

From my diaries I find that I spoke with my Lord Essex no less than

eight times between Christmas and July; I saw my Lord Russell only once

as I shall relate presently, but did not speak with him: the rest I met

now and again, but never all of them together. It was necessary, no

doubt, that they should be well drilled before they could be trusted

with me. Mr. Rumbald I met about four times, and my Lord Howard but

once. I think all this time they were wholly satisfied that I passed on

to Mr. Chiffinch what they told me, and nothing else; for he and I

usually contrived to carry out part at least of their recommendations.

I first began to learn something of my Lord Russell's position in the

matter in a meeting in July, in the house of the Mr. Sheppard (whom I

had met at Mr. West's), that was situated in Wapping; and I learned

something else too at the same time. My Lord Essex; came for me in his

coach that day, and himself carried me down. (I need not say that on

these occasions I carried always some pistol or other weapon with me

beside my sword, for I never knew when they might not find me out.)

Mr. Sheppard's house was in a little street, that was a _cul-de-sac_,

between the Garden Grounds, which was a great open space, and the Old

Stairs on the river. It was about eight o'clock, and was beginning to be

twilight when we came.

As we descended from the coach I noticed at a little distance away a

number of fellows, very rough looking, standing together watching us;

and I perceived that they saluted my Lord who returned the salute very

heartily. I did not much like that. Who were these folks, I wondered,

who knew my Lord?

The house was very ordinary within; it was flagged with stones that had

some kind of matting upon them: the entrance was all panelled; and, what

surprised me was that no servant was to be seen. Mr. Sheppard himself

opened the door to us when we knocked.

We did not speak at all as we came in; and my Lord led me straight

through into the parlour on the left that was full of tobacco-smoke.

This was a very good room, hung all round with tapestry, though of a

poorish quality, and, though it was not yet dark, the windows were

shuttered and barred. At the table sat half a dozen persons, of whom I

knew my Lord Shaftesbury at the head of the table as usual, and Mr.

Goodenough that sat with his back to the hearth. Between these two sat a

gentleman whom I knew to be my Lord Howard of Escrick, though I had

never spoken with him. He carried himself with a very high air, and was

the only man there dressed as if he were still in Westminster; the rest

were subdued, somewhat, in their appearance. My Lord Howard looked at me

with an intolerant kind of disdain, which my Lord Essex made haste to

cover by directing me to my place.

I thought that my Lord Shaftesbury seemed very heavy this evening. He

treated me with a silent kind of civility; and so, too, did he treat the

rest. His eyes wandered away sometimes as we talked, as if he were

thinking of something else. We spoke of nothing of any importance for a

time, for Mr. Sheppard was bringing in wine with his own hands, though I

saw a number of used glasses on the press which shewed me that the

company had been here some time already.

It would be not until after ten or twelve minutes that Mr. Sheppard was

deputed to open the affair on account of which I had been sent for.

"Now then, Sheppard," said my Lord Essex who sat on my right, "tell us

the news."

Mr. Sheppard pushed his glass forward and leaned his elbows on the

table. I could see that all that he said was directed principally at me.

"Well, my lords," he said, "I have very good news. You remember how I

told you that I was beginning to fear for the people down here--that

they would be provoked soon into some kind of a rising. They are still

not wholly pacified--" (here he shot a look at me, which he should not

have done)--"but I am doing my best to tell them that we have very good

hopes indeed that His Majesty will be persuaded to call a Parliament;

and I think they are beginning to believe me. I think we may say that

the danger is past."

"Why; what danger is that, Mr. Sheppard?" said I, very innocently.

"Why--a rising!" he said. "Has not my Lord Essex told you?"

"Ah! yes!" said I, "I had forgot." (This was wholly false. He had told

me once or twice at least that there was danger of this. This had been a

month ago; and his object had been to persuade me that they had been

telling the truth.)

"I saw some fellows as we came in," I said.

"Those are the malcontents," he said. "There are not more than a very

few now, who go about and brag."

I assented.

"By the way," said my Lord Essex to Shaftesbury who looked at him

heavily, "I spoke with my Lord Russell a week ago. You know my Lord

Russell, Mr. Mallock?"

I said that I did not.

"Well; I had hoped he would have been here to-night. But he is gone down

to the country--to Stratton--where he has his seat."

He talked a while longer of my Lord Russell; and I saw that he wished me

to believe that my Lord was of their party: whence I argued to myself

that was just what he was not; but that they wished to win him over for

the sake of his name, perhaps, and his known probity. (And, as the

event shewed, I was right in that conjecture.)

Two or three of them were still talking together in this strain, and

while I listened enough to tell me that it was nothing very important

that they said, I was observing my Lord Shaftesbury: and, upon my heart!

I was sorry for the man. Three years ago he was in the front of the

rising tide, in the full blast of popularity and power; he had so worked

upon the old Popish Plot and the mob, that he had all the movement with

him: His Majesty himself was afraid of him, and was forced to follow his

leading. Now he was fallen from all this; the Court-party had triumphed

because he had so overshot his mark, and here was he, in this poor

quarter, in the house of a man that would have been nothing to him five

years ago, forced to this very poor kind of conspiring for his last

hopes. He sat as if he knew all this himself: his eyes strayed about him

as we talked, and there were heavy pouches beneath them, and deep lines

at the corner of his nose and mouth. It was this man, thought I, who was

so largely responsible for the death of so many innocents--and all for

his own ambition!

Presently I heard His Grace of Monmouth spoken of. It was Mr. Sheppard

who spoke the name; and in an instant I was on the alert again. What he

said fell very pat with what I was thinking of my Lord Shaftesbury.

"I declare," cried Mr. Sheppard, once more talking at me very evidently,

"that His Grace of Monmouth breaks my heart. I was with his Grace a

fortnight ago. His loyalty and love for the King are overpowering. I had

heard"--(this was a very bold stroke of poor Mr. Sheppard)--"I had heard

that some villainous fellows had proposed to His Grace--oh! a great

while ago, in April, I think--that an assault should be made upon the

King; and that His Grace near killed one of them for it. Yet His Majesty

will scarce speak to him, so much he distrusts him."

This was all very pretty: and from it I argued that the Duke was deeper

in the affair than we had thought, and perhaps belonged even to the

extremest party, led, we supposed, chiefly by Mr. Sidney. But I murmured

that it was a shame that His Majesty treated him so; and while I was

listening to further eulogies on His Grace, a new thought came to me

which I determined to put into execution that very night; for I felt we

were not making any progress.

There was not much more conversation of any significance, and I was soon

able to carry out what I determined; for my Lord Essex when we broke

about half-past nine o'clock, again offered to take me home.

I said good-night very respectfully to the company; and followed him

into the coach.

For a while I said nothing, but appeared preoccupied; so that at last my

Lord clapped me on the knee and asked me if I ailed--which was what I

wished him to do.

"My Lord," said I, with an appearance of great openness, "I have a

confession to make."

"Well?" said he. "What is it?"

"I am disappointed," I said. "There is a deal of talk; and most

interesting talk; and all very loyal and respectful. But I had fancied

there was more behind."

"What do you mean?" asked he.

"Well:" I said. "If His Grace of Monmouth will do nothing, will none of

his friends do it for him?"

"Of what nature?" asked my Lord.

"My Lord," said I, "need I say more?"

He was silent for a while; and I could see how his mind was a trifle

bewildered. But he did presently exactly what I hoped he would do.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "you are right: there is more behind. And I

promise you you shall hear of it when the time comes. Is that enough?"

"That is enough, my Lord," said I. "I am content."

* * * * *

I was with Mr. Chiffinch before the gates were shut for the night; and

this was the report I gave him.

"I have learned three things at least," I said, when he had bolted the

door, and drawn the hanging across it. "First that they are

contemplating a rising as soon as they can get their men together; and

that it will be from Wapping and thereabouts that the insurrectionists

will come. Next that His Grace of Monmouth is more deeply involved than

we had thought. And the third thing is, that I have persuaded my Lord

Essex that I can be trusted to be a good traitor, and to report

everything; but that if they do not commit more important falsehoods to

me, I shall lose heart with them. We may expect then that after a little

while I shall have more vital and significant lies told me, whence we

can arrive at the truth."

"Is that everything?" said he.

"Ah! there is one thing more. They are trying to entangle my Lord

Russell; and they think that they will succeed, and so do I; but at

present he will not be caught."

CHAPTER VIII

We are drawing nearer now to the heart of the conspiracy that was

forming little by little, as an abscess forms in the body of a sick man.

For two months more no great move was made. I was summoned now and again

to such meetings as those which I have described: and sometimes one man

was there and sometimes another. They were becoming less cautious with

me in this--since I had by now the names of nearly all the Londoners

involved: and Mr. Chiffinch had the names of the principal men in

Scotland and the provinces, especially in the West, with whom they were

concerting. They still fed me with lies from time to time, in small

points; and I gained a little knowledge from these as to what they

wished me to believe, and hence as to what was indeed the truth.

It was in October that the next meeting of importance took place--the

next, that is to say, to which I myself was admitted: and it was again

in Mr. Sheppard's house in Wapping. There were gathered there, for the

first time mostly all the principal gentlemen in the affair; and this

was one more sign of how reckless they were becoming that I was admitted

there at all. But I think it was because Mr. Chiffinch and I had been

very discreet and careful that they thought that they had me in hand,

and that I was somewhat of an innocent fool, and revealed no more than

what they wished.

Before I went there--for I went by water this time, in a private wherry,

to Wapping Old Stairs, I went first to Mr. Chiffinch to see if there

were any news for me.

"Why, yes," he said, when he had me alone, "there is a little matter I

would like you to find out about. The Duke of Monmouth was here with my

Lord Grey, a day or two ago: they all dined with Sir Thomas Armstrong:

and all three of them went round the posts and the guardroom, and saw

everything. Now what was that for?"

"Sir Thomas Armstrong?" said I in astonishment. "Why he is--"

I was about to say he was one of His Majesty's closest friends and evil

geniuses; but I stopped. There was no need.

The page smiled.

"Yes," he said. "Well; Mr. Mallock? If you can find out anything--"

"And the Duke too!" I said. "Well; I was right, was I not?" (For what I

had found out was true enough--that His Grace was far more deeply

involved than we had at first suspected. We had known that he was their

_protégé_, but not that he was so much in their counsel, and of one mind

with them.)

"His Grace will come to some disaster, I think," said Mr. Chiffinch very

tranquilly.

* * * * *

When I came to Wapping Old Stairs it appeared that the watermen there

knew well enough what was forward; for while one ran down to help me

from the wherry, a number of others stood watching as if they knew what

I had come for; and all saluted me as I went up. At the head of the

stairs, I looked back, and two more wherries with a gentleman in each

were just coming in.

Mr. Sheppard himself opened the door to me, and appeared a little

confused, looking over his shoulder into the entrance-hall where two or

three gentlemen were just going into the great parlour on the left. I

could have sworn that one of them was the Duke, from the way he carried

himself. With him was another whom I thought I knew, but he was not

familiar to me. I appeared to notice nothing, but beat off the mud from

my boots.

"Mr. Mallock," said Mr. Sheppard, "they are not yet all come; and two or

three who are here have a little private business on another matter

first. Will you wait a little in another room?"

I assented immediately; and he took me through the hall into another

little parlour behind that in which the company was assembled.

"It will not be more than ten minutes," he said. "I will come for you

myself when they are done."

When he was gone again I observed the room. It had but one window, which

was shuttered; but it had two doors--the one by which I was come in, and

another, beyond the hearth, leading to the great parlour. This door was

closed.

Now it was of the greatest importance that I should hear what was

passing in the next room. I should learn more in five words spoken there

then, than in five hours when they were playing a part to me; and I had

no scruple whatever, considering what they were at, and how they were

using me, in learning by any means that were in my power what I wished

to know. Even from where I stood I could hear the murmur of talk; and it

was probable, it seemed to me, that if I laid my ear on the panel of the

door I should hear every word of it. But first I pulled out a chair and

set it by the table, with my hat and cane beside it. Then I went to the

door into the hall, which opened, fortunately, with its hinge nearer to

the hearth--(so that a man entering would not see immediately into that

part of the room in which I should be)--and beneath the door I slipped a

little sliver of wood from the wood-basket by the hearth, so that the

door would stick a little. Having done that I went on tip-toe to the

other door and put my ear to the panel. But I feared they would not say

anything very significant, with me so close.

Now it was a little while before I could distinguish which voice

belonged to what man. I got the Duke's at once; there was a lordly kind

of ring in it that could never be forgotten; and I got presently my Lord

Grey's voice; and then one with a drawl in it which I had never heard

before; and then one that had no special characteristic, but was a

little slow. These were the four whom I heard speak, besides Mr.

Sheppard once. The conversation I heard was somewhat as follows. I set

it all down on my way home.

The Duke said: "I am very pleased indeed that you are come after all, my

Lord. We understand by that you have put aside all suspicions; and that

is an encouragement."

The slow voice said; "I would do anything in my power, your Grace,

which was not against my conscience, to help on that cause of which you

have spoken; but I must confess--"

My Lord Grey said, sharply: "There, there! we understand, and are very

glad of it. The thing can be arranged without any treason at all, or any

injury to a soul. It is merely a demonstration--no more, upon my

honour."

The drawling voice said: "No more will be needed. His Grace and we two

went round everywhere. They are not like soldiers at all; they are

remiss in everything."

The Duke said: "You see, my Lord, it is exactly as I said. God knows we

would not injure a soul. I well know your Lordship's high principles."

The slow voice said: "Well, your Grace, so long as that is understood--I

shall be very happy to hear what the design may be."

Mr. Sheppard said: "One instant, my Lord--" Then he dropped his voice;

and I saw what he was at. I slipped back as quick as I could; drew out

the sliver of wood from beneath the other door, and sat down. Then I

heard his footstep outside.

When he came in, I was in the chair; but I rose.

"I beg pardon for keeping you, sir," he said: "there is just that trifle

of business, and no more. I am come to keep you company."

Well; I resigned myself to it with a good air; and we sat and talked

there of indifferent matters, or very nearly, for at least half an hour

longer. It was highly provoking to me, but it could not be helped--that

I should sit there with an affair of real importance proceeding in the

next room, and I placed so favourably for the hearing of it. However I

had gained something, though at present I did not know how much.

Suddenly Mr. Sheppard stood up; and I heard a door open and voices in

the entrance hall.

"You will excuse me, sir, an instant," he said. "I must see these

gentlemen out."

I bowed to him as I stood up and put myself in such a position that I

could get a good look into the hall as he went out; and fortune favoured

me, for there in the light of the pair of candles outside I caught a

plain sight of the plump and rather solemn face of my Lord Russell. It

was only for an instant; but that was enough; and at the same time I

heard the drawling voice of someone out of sight, bidding good-night to

others within the parlour. Then Mr. Sheppard shut the door behind him,

and I sat down again.

Well; I had gained something; and I was beginning to repeat to myself

what I had heard, for that is the best way of all to imprint it on the

memory; when Mr. Sheppard came in again and invited me to follow him.

"Who was that that spoke?" I said carelessly, "as you went out just now?

I can swear I know the voice."

He glanced sharply at me.

"That?" he said. "Oh! that must have been Sir Thomas Armstrong who is

just gone out."

* * * * *

The parlour had no more than five men in it when we entered; and one

seemed about to take his leave. That one was His Grace of Monmouth. I

was a little astonished that they let me see him there, though I

understood presently why it was so. He turned to me very friendly, while

I was observing the two others I did not know--one of whom, Mr.

Ferguson, was dressed as a minister.

"Why, Mr. Mallock," he said, "you come as I go!"

He recognized me a shade too swiftly. That shewed me that they had been

speaking of me to him.

I said something civil; and then I saw that he was to say the piece they

had just taught him; for that he was not sharp enough to be trusted long

in the room with me.

"I hear you are all consulting," said he, "how to keep the peace. Well;

I have given my counsel; and my Lord Essex here knows what I wish. I

would I could stay, gentlemen; but that cannot be done."

There was a loyal and grateful murmur from the others. Indeed he looked

a prince, every inch of him. He took his leave with a superb courtesy,

giving his hand to each; and each bowed over it very low. I was not sure

but that Mr. Sheppard did not kiss it. For myself, I kissed it outright.

While I did so, I could have sworn that Mr. Sheppard said something

very swiftly in the ear of my Lord Essex.

Now I was wondering why they had kept me from my Lord Russell. His

probity was known well enough; and if they had wished to reassure me

they could have done no better than tell me he was one of them; and

then, of a sudden I recollected that to reassure me was the very last

thing they wished; on the contrary, they wished to hold me tight,

betraying only what they wished me to betray, until they were ready for

their final stroke. And, just as I had arrived at that, when we were all

sat down, my Lord Essex again dumfoundered me.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I wish to tell you, now we are in private, that

my Lord Russell has been here, as well as His Grace and Sir Thomas

Armstrong. You can tell from the presence of those three what our chief

difficulty will be; for not one of them will hear of even the danger of

any injury to His Majesty or the Duke of York. His Grace of Monmouth, of

course, had to be consulted on one or two points; and he brought those

other two with him to hear what we had to say. Well; I think we have

satisfied them; though I fear, later, that they will not approve of our

methods. But we did not wish my Lord Russell to see you until we had

done talking to him; for fear that he might know something of your

disaffection. We have satisfied him--and, what is more important--His

Grace too, for the present; and they will not interfere with us."

Now this speech was an exceedingly ingenious one. Before he had done

speaking I understood that Mr. Sheppard had suspected that I had seen my

Lord Russell, and that that was why they were so open with me. But the

rest of the speech was very shrewd indeed; and I think it might have

deceived me, if I had not learned by the conversation that it was His

Grace who was trying to reassure my Lord, and no one that was trying to

reassure His Grace. But the web was so well woven that for the moment I

could not see through it all; though I understood it all presently, when

I had had a little time to think. For the instant, however, I saw one

safe answer that I could make.

"I am obliged to your Lordship for telling me," I said, "and I trust

from what you have said that it is but a preliminary to a little more

information. Your Lordship told me in July that there would be more news

for me presently."

He could not resist a glance at my Lord Grey--as if in triumph at his

success.

"That is what we are met for," he said; and then--"Why, Mr. Mallock, I

have not made these other gentlemen known to you."

They turned out to be--on the right of my Lord, the minister, Mr.

Ferguson--he who had been spoken of before as an informant from Bristol;

and a Colonel Rumsey--an old Cromwellian like the maltster of

Hoddesdon--who sat next to Mr. Ferguson. We saluted one another; and

then the affair began.

"Mr. Mallock," said my Lord, "the first piece of news is a little

disappointing. It is that my Lord Shaftesbury is ill. It is not at all

grave; but he is confined to his bed; and that throws back some of our

designs."

(I made a proper answer of regret; and considered what was likely to be

the truth. At the moment I could not see what this would be.)

"The next piece of news I have, gentlemen," went on my Lord--(for I

think he thought he appeared to be speaking too much at me)--"is that

owing to my Lord Shaftesbury's illness we must relinquish all thoughts

of any demonstration in London. That, Mr. Mallock, was what we had hoped

to be able to do in a week or two from now. Well; that is impossible.

For the rest, Mr. Ferguson had better tell us."

This gentleman I took to be somewhat of an ass by his appearance and

manner; but I am not sure he was not the cleverest liar of them all. He

spoke with a strong Scotch accent, and an appearance of shy sheepiness,

and therefore with an air too of extraordinary truth. He spoke, too, at

great length, as if he were in his pulpit; and my Lord Essex yawned

behind his hand once or twice.

Briefly put--Mr. Ferguson's report was as follows:

The discontent in the West was rising to a climax; and if a much longer

delay were made, real danger might follow. It was sadly disconcerting,

therefore, to him to hear that there was any hitch in the London

designs: for the promise that he had given to some of the leaders in the

West (whose names, he said, with an appearance of a stupid boorish kind

of cunning, "had best not be said even here") was that a demonstration

should be made simultaneously both here, in the West, and in Scot--

Here he interrupted himself sharply; and I saw that he had made a

blunder. But he covered it so admirably, that if I had not previously

known that discontent was seething among the Covenanters, I am sure I

should have suspected nothing.

"In Scotland," said he, "we must look for nothing. They are forever

promising and not performing--though I say it of my own countrymen. Any

demonstration there would surely be a failure."

It was admirably done; and it was then that I perceived what an actor

the man was.

Well; when he had done, we talked over it a while. I professed myself

very well satisfied with what I had heard; and I put forward an opinion

that it would be far better to delay no longer in the West. A

demonstration there might lead to alarm here; troops might be withdrawn

here, and relieve the pressure, and thus make possible a further

demonstration in London. I spoke, I think, with some eloquence,

remembering however that they all looked on me with the same confidence

that I had in them--and no more: that is, that they believed me a liar.

My observations were received with applause, very well delivered.

It was growing pretty late by the time we had done; yet before we went I

had learned one more piece of news, partly through a little trap I laid,

and partly through my Lord Essex's clumsiness.

"Well," said I, "I must be getting homewards, my Lords. I wish my Lord

Shaftesbury had been here. Could I see his Lordship, do you think?--if I

were to call at his town house? There is a very particular matter--"

My Lord Essex started a little. He was tired and overanxious, I think,

with the continual part that he had to play before me; yet it was the

first slip he made.

"My Lord is out of town--" he said. Then he paused. "You could not tell

us, I suppose--"

I affected indifference. (Was my Lord out of town, I wondered?)

"Why; it is nothing," I said.

My Lord exchanged a look with Mr. Sheppard; and made his second mistake.

"I saw my Lord only--last week," he said suddenly. "He wishes his

address to be private for the present; but--

"Do not trouble yourself, my Lord," I said. "I assure you it has nothing

to do with our business here."

I repeated this, I think, with a good enough manner to persuade them

that what I said was true; and presently afterwards took my leave.

As I sat in the wherry that took me back to the Privy Stairs--(I had

announced of course, "to the Temple")--I was preparing in my mind what I

should say. I had learned a considerable amount for an evening; for the

conversation I had overheard, added to what Mr. Chiffinch had told me,

added to what they had all said in the parlour, interpreted and fitted

together, was pretty significant.

These were the points I arranged.

First, that the visit of the Duke, my Lord Grey and Sir Thomas Armstrong

to Whitehall was to see in what state the guards were in case of a

surprise; and the conclusion they had arrived at was they "were not like

soldiers at all" but "very remiss."

Second, that a "demonstration" in London was very imminent.

Third, that they had won over my Lord Russell enough at least to gain

the help that his name would give.

Fourth, I was confirmed in what Mr. Chiffinch had told me as to the

probability of a rising in Scotland.

Fifth, I was confirmed in my view that the Duke was very deeply

involved.

Sixth, it appeared to me exceedingly probable that my Lord Shaftesbury

was still in town, though not in his own house: and, all things

considered, it was very nearly certain that he was hidden in Wapping. He

was, probably also, a little ill, or he would have been at our meeting

to-night.

One conclusion then, immediate and pressing, came out of all this; that

an assault on Whitehall and an attack on the King's person was in urgent

contemplation.

* * * * *

Then, as we went up under the stars, my waterman and I, one of those

moods came upon me which come on all men in such stress as I was; and I

appeared to myself, for the time, to be worlds away from all this

sedition and passion and fever. The little affairs of men which they

thought so great seemed to me in that hour very little and wicked--like

the scheming of naughty children, or the quarrels and spites of efts in

a muddy pond. In that hour my whole heart grew sick at this miserable

murderous pother in the midst of which my duty seemed to lie; and

yearned instead to those things that are great indeed--the love of the

maid who had promised herself to me, and the Love of God that should

make us one. My religion--though I am a little ashamed to confess

it--had been very little to me lately: I had heard mass, indeed,

usually, on Sundays, in one of the privileged chapels, and had confessed

myself at Easter and once since, to one of the Capuchins, and received

Communion; yet, for the rest it had largely been blotted out by these

hot absorbing affairs in which I found myself. But, in that hour (for

the tide was beginning to set against us)--it came back on me like a

breeze in a stifling room. I thought of that cleanly passionless life I

had led as a novice, and of that no less cleanly, though perhaps less

supernatural life, that should one day be mine and Dolly's--and these

politics and these plottings and this listening at doors, and this

elaborate lying--all blew off from me like a cloud.

When we were yet twenty yards from the Privy Stairs a wherry shot past

us, with no light burning. There was but one passenger in it, whom I

knew well enough, though I feigned to see nothing; and once more my

sickness came on me, that it was for a King like this, slipping out on

some shameful pleasure, that I so toiled and endangered myself.

* * * * *

When I had reported all to Mr. Chiffinch, sitting back weary in my

chair, yet knowing that I must go through with the work to which I had

set my hand, he remained silent.

"Well?" I said. "Am I wrong in any point?"

"Why no," he said. "Your information tallies perfectly with all I know,

and has increased the sum very much. For example, I had no idea where my

Lord Shaftesbury was. I have no doubt whatever, from what you say, that

he is in Wapping."

"Will you send and take him there?" I asked.

"No," he said shortly. "Leave him alone. We failed last time we took

him. And he can do no great harm there. Plainly too, he is at the

waterside that he may escape if there is need. I shall set spies there;

and no more."

"What is to be done then? Double the guards again?"

"Why that of course," said he.

"And what else?" I asked; for I could see that he had not said all.

"A counterstroke," he said. "But of what kind? You say the rising will

be pretty soon."

"I do not suppose for a week or two at the most. They were decided, I am

sure; but no more."

Suddenly the man slapped his leg; and his eyes grew little with his

smile.

"I have it for sure," he said. "It will be for the seventeenth of

November. That is the popular date. Queen Bess and Dangerfield and the

rest."

"But what can you do?"

"Why," said he, "forbid by proclamation all processions or bonfires on

that day. Then they cannot even begin to gather."

* * * * *

He proved right in every particular. The proclamation was issued, and

met their intended assault to the very moment, as we learned afterwards,

besides frightening the leaders lest their intention had been

discovered: and the next night came one of the spies whom Mr. Chiffinch

had sent down to Wapping, to say that my Lord Shaftesbury had slipped

away and taken boat for Holland.

CHAPTER IX

Now indeed the fear grew imminent. I had thought that once my Lord

Shaftesbury was gone abroad, one of two things would happen--either that

the whole movement would collapse, or that the leaders would be arrested

forthwith. But Mr. Chiffinch was sharper than I this time; and said No

to both.

"No," said he, sitting like a Judge, with his fingers together, on the

morning after my Lord Shaftesbury's evasion. "The feeling is far too

strong to fall away all of a sudden. I dare predict just the contrary,

that, now that the coolest of them all is gone--for he dare not come

back again--the hot-heads will take the lead; and that means the

sharpest peril we have yet encountered. This time they will not stop at

a demonstration; indeed I doubt if they could raise one successfully;

they will aim direct at the person of the King. It is their only hope

left."

"Then why not take them before they can do any mischief?" I asked.

"First, Mr. Mallock," he said, "because we have not enough positive

evidence--at any rate not enough to hang them all; and next we must

catch the small fry--the desperate little ones who will themselves

attempt the killing. It is now that I should be ready for a visit from

your friend Rumbald, if I were you. They can have no suspicion that you

have done anything but betray them in the way they intended: they have a

great weapon, they think, in you, to continue carrying false news. Now,

Mr. Mallock, is the very time come of which you once spoke to me--the

climax, when they will feign to reveal everything to you, and then make

their last stroke. You have seen my Lord Essex again?"

"Not a sight of him. I had only a very guarded note, two days ago, but

very friendly: saying that the designs were fallen through for the

present."

"Precisely what I have been saying," observed Mr. Chiffinch. "No, Mr.

Mallock, you must not stir from town. I am sorry for your pretty cousin,

and Christmas, and the rest: but you see for yourself that we must leave

no loophole unguarded. His Majesty must not die out of his bed, if we

can help it."

There, then, I was nailed until more should happen. I dared not ask my

cousins to come to town; for God only knew what mischief my Cousin Tom

might not play; and I had not eyes on both sides of my head at once. I

wrote only to Dolly; and said that once more I was disappointed; but

that I would most certainly see her soon, if I had to ride two nights

running, from town and back.

I accomplished this, but not until Christmas was well over, and indeed

Lent begun. During those weeks, certainly nothing of any importance

happened to me, though my Lord Essex kept me in touch with him, and I

even was present at one very dismal meeting with him and Mr. Ferguson,

when it was deplored, in my presence, that the "demonstration"--as they

still called it--of the seventeenth of November had been so adroitly

prevented; and my Lord Shaftesbury's death--which had taken place

(chiefly, I think, from disappointment) that very week--was spoken of

with a certain relief. I think they were pleased to have matters

entirely in their own hands now. However they proposed no immediate

action, which more than ever persuaded me that this was what they

intended. Yet the days went by: and no more news came, either from them

or from Mr. Chiffinch--so I took affairs into my own hands, and one

night, before the gates of the City were shut went down to Hare Street

with a couple of men, leaving James at home, for I could trust him

better than any other man.

Now I need not relate all that passed at Hare Street; for every lover

knows how sweet was that day to me. I had seen her not at all for more

than a year--(one year of those three that were to pass!)--and though we

had written often to one another, whenever we could get a letter taken,

yet the letters had done no more than increase my thirst. I think she

was dearer to me than ever; she was a shade paler and more grave, and I

knew what it was that had made her so, for I had told her very plainly

indeed that I was in peril and that she must pray much for me. My Cousin

Tom was friendly enough, though I saw he was no more reconciled in his

heart to our affair than he had been at the beginning; but I guessed

nothing whatever of what he was contemplating. (However perhaps he was

not contemplating it then, for he did not attempt it till much later.)

Yet he was pretty reasonable, and interrupted us no more than was

necessary; so we had that day to ourselves, until night fell, and I must

ride again. I was so weary that night, though refreshed in my spirit,

that I think I drowsed a little on my horse, and thought that I stood

again at the gate of the yard with Dolly, bareheaded in spite of the

cold, holding the lantern to help us to mount.

* * * * *

I was still brooding all the way up Fleet Street, and even to my own

door; until I saw James standing there; and at the sight of him I knew

that something was fallen out.

I said nothing, but nodded at him only, as a master may, but he

understood that he was to follow upstairs. There, in my chamber I faced

him.

"Well?" said I. "What is it?"

"Sir," he said, "a fellow came last night and seemed much put out when I

told him you were out of town."

"What sort of a fellow was he?" said I.

"He was a clean-shaven man, sir, rather red in the face, with reddish

hair turning grey on his temples."

"Heavily built?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well; what did he say?"

"He said that you would know what affair he was come about--that it was

very urgent; and that he could not stay in town beyond noon to-day. He

said, sir, that he was to be found till then at the _Mitre_ without

Aldgate."

Well; that was enough for me. But I did not relish the prospect of no

sleep again; for I cannot trust my wits when I have not slept my seven

or eight hours. But there was no help for it.

"James," said I, "bring my morning up here at once, with some meat too.

I may not be able to dine to-day, or not till late. When you have

brought it I shall have a letter ready, for Mr. Chiffinch. That you must

take yourself. Then return here, and pack a pair of valises, with a suit

in them for yourself. Have two horses ready at eleven o'clock: you must

come with me, and no one else. I do not know how long we may be away.

You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. I must get some sleep if I can before eleven."

Then a thought came to me. If Rumbald must be gone from town by noon,

would he not likely want me to go with him?

"Wait," I said. "I do not know this man very well; but I will tell you

that his name is Rumbald and that he lives at the Rye, near Hoddesdon.

You had best not come with me. But do all else as I have said; but you

must ride by yourself at eleven, to Hoddesdon; and put up at the inn

there--I forget its name, but the largest there, if there be more than

one. Remain there until you hear from me again: I may want a courier. Do

not go a hundred yards from the inn on any account; and do not seem to

know me, unless I speak to you first. You may see me, or you may not. I

know nothing till I have seen Rumbald. If you do not hear of me before

ten o'clock to-night, you can go to bed, and return here in the morning.

I will communicate with you by to-morrow night at latest. If I do not,

go to Mr. Chiffinch yourself and tell him."

My mind was working at that swift feverish speed which weariness

sometimes will give. I was amazed afterwards at my own foresight, for

there was very little evidence of what was intended; and yet there had

come upon me, as in an illumination, that the time for which we had

waited so long was arrived at last. I do not see how I could have

guessed more than I did; neither do I now see how I guessed so much.

My letter to Mr. Chiffinch was not long. It ran as follows:

"Rumbald hath been to see me; and bids me be with him, if I can, by noon

to-day at the _Mitre_, without Aldgate. I know no more than that; but I

am making ready to go down with him to the Rye at Hoddesdon, if he

should want me there. I think that something is intended, if we are

right in our conjectures. I shall have my man at the inn in Hoddesdon.

You must send no one else for fear of alarming them, unless my man comes

to you to-morrow to tell you that he does not know where I am. Is His

Majesty still at Newmarket? If so, when does he purpose to return? Which

road will he come by? Send an answer back by my man who bears this.

"R.M."

Well; that was all that I could do. I gave the letter to James; telling

him not to awaken me with the answer till he came at eleven o'clock; and

after eating a good meal, I went to my bed and fell sound asleep; and it

seemed scarcely five minutes, before James came knocking, with Mr.

Chiffinch's answer. I sat up on my bed and read it--my mind still

swimming with sleep.

"_Prospere procede_!" it ran. "I will observe all that you say. The King

and His Royal Highness are together at Newmarket. They purpose to return

on a Saturday, as the King usually does; but he hath not yet sent to say

whether it will be to-morrow, the 18th or the 25th. I shall hear by

night, no doubt. Neither do I know the road by which they may come."

I read it through twice; then I tore it into fragments and gave them to

James.

"Burn all these," I said. "Are the horses ready?"

"Yes, sir," said James.

Undoubtedly my sleep had refreshed me; for by the time that I rode up to

the _Mitre_ without Aldgate, I was awake with a kind of clear-headedness

that astonished me. It appeared to me that I had thought out every

contingency. I had with me a little valise, ready for the country, if

need be; yet I could return to my lodgings without remark. James was

already on his way to Hoddesdon, and would be there if I needed him. No

harm was done if my conjectures were at fault; I had left no loophole

that I could see, if they were not. It was with a tolerably contented

heart, in spite of the dangers I foresaw--(for I think these gave spice

to my adventure)--that I rode up to the _Mitre_, and saw Mr. Rumbald

himself standing astraddle in the doorway.

I must confess however that the sight of him gave me a little check. He

appeared to me more truculent than I had ever seen him. He had his hands

behind him, with a great whip in them; he hardly smiled to me, but

nodded only, fixing his fierce eyes on my face. He had, more than I had

ever noticed it before, that hard fanatic look of the Puritan. After

all, I reflected, this maltster had commanded a troop under Cromwell at

Naseby. His manner was very different from when I had last seen him; he

appeared to me as if desperate.

However, I think I shewed nothing of what I felt. I saluted him easily,

and swung myself off my horse. He had gone into the house at my

approach; and I followed him straight through into a little parlour to

which, it seemed, he had particular access, for he turned a key in the

door as he went in. When I was in, after him, and the door was shut, he

turned to me, with a very stern look.

"Well, Mr. Mallock?" he said. "I see you are come ready for a ride."

"Yes," I said. "I had your message."

He nodded. Then he came a little closer, looking at me with his fierce

eyes.

"You understand what is forward?"

"I understand enough," said I.

"That is very good then. We will ride at once."

As we came out, a couple of men--one of them I noticed in particular,

dressed as a workman--(I set him down for a carpenter or some such

thing)--made as though they would speak to us; but Rumbald waved his

hand at them sharply, as if to hold them off. I could see that he was

displeased. I said nothing, but I marked the man closely: he was a

little fellow, that looked ill. Mr. Rumbald's horse was already there;

and mine was being held still by the ostler into whose hands I had given

him. We mounted without another word; and rode away.

I think we did not speak one word at all till we were out from town.

Such was his mood, and such therefore I imitated. He rode like a

soldier, sitting easily and squarely in his saddle; and the more I

observed him and thought of him, the less I liked my business. It was

wonderful how some emotion had driven up the power that lay in him. All

that genial hail-fellow manner was gone completely.

When we were clear of town he spoke at last.

"This is a very grave business, sir," he said. "We had best not speak of

it till we are home. Have you no servants?"

He spoke so naturally of my servants that I saw he was astonished I had

none. I had very little time to think what I should answer; it appeared

to me that I had best be open.

"Yes," I said. "My man is gone on to Hoddesdon to await me there. I

thought it was best he should not ride with us."

He looked at me with a peculiar expression that I could not understand;

but only for an instant. Then he nodded, and turned his stern face again

over his horse's ears.

My moods were very various as I rode on. Now I felt as a sheep being led

to the slaughter; now as an adventurer on a quest; and, again, of a

sudden there would sweep over me a great anxiety as to His Majesty's

safety. The thought of Dolly, too, came upon me continually and affected

me now in this way, now in that. Now I longed to be free and safe back

at Hare Street; now I knew that I could never look her in the face again

if I evaded my plain duty. One thing I can say, however, from my heart,

and that is that never for an instant did I seriously consider any

evasion. It was all in the course that I had chosen--to "serve the

King." Well; I must do so now, wherever it led me. What, however,

greatly added to the horror of my position was that I knew that this

strong fellow at my side thought me to be a traitor to himself and was

using that knowledge only for his own ends. He would surely be ruthless

if he found I had served my turn; and here was I, riding to his house,

and only two men in the world knew whither I was gone.

Rumbald had already dined; and thought not at all of me. We drew rein

therefore, nowhere; but rode straight on, through village and country

alike--now ambling for a little, once or twice cantering, and then

walking again when the way had holes in it. So we passed through

Totteridge and Barnet and Enfield Chase and Wood Green, and came at last

to Broxbourne where the roads forked, and we turned down to the right.

It was terrible that ride--all in silence; once or twice I had attempted

a general observation; but he answered so shortly that I tried no more;

and I am not ashamed to say that I committed myself again and again to

the tuition of Our Lady of Good Counsel whose picture I had venerated in

Rome. Indeed, it was counsel that I needed.

I did not know precisely where was the Rye, nor what it was like; for I

had avoided the place, of design. I supposed it only a little place,

perhaps in a village. I was a trifle disconcerted therefore when, as we

crossed the Lea by a wooden bridge, he pointed with his whip, in

silence, to a very solid-looking house that even had battlemented

roofs--not two hundred yards away, to the left of the road. There was no

other building that I could see, except the roofs of an outhouse or two,

and suchlike. However, I nodded, and said nothing. No words were best:

in silence we rode on over the bridge, and beyond; and in silence we

turned in through a gateway, and up to the house, crossing a moat as we

went.

Indeed, now I was astonished more than ever at the house. It was liker a

castle. There was an arched entrance, very solid, all of brick, with the

teeth even of a portcullis shewing. An old man came out of a door on our

right, as our hoofs rang out; but he made no sign or salute; he took our

horses' heads as we dismounted, and I heard him presently leading them

away.

Still without speaking, the Colonel led me through the little guard-room

on the right, hung round with old weapons of the Civil War, and up a

staircase at the further end. At the head of the staircase a door was

open on the right, and I saw a bed within; but we went up a couple more

steps on the left, and came out into the principal living-room of the

house.

It was a very good chamber, this, panelled about eight feet up the

walls, with the bricks shewing above, but whitewashed. A hearth was on

the right; a couple of windows in the wall opposite, and another door

beyond the hearth. The furniture was very plain but very good: a great

table stood under the windows with three or four chairs about it. The

walls seemed immensely strong and well-built; and, though the place

could not stand out for above an hour or two against guns, in the old

days it could have faced a little siege of men-at-arms, very well.

Rumbald, when he had seen me shut the door behind me, went across to the

table and put down his whip upon it.

"Sit down, sir," he said. "Here is my little stronghold."

He said it with a grim kind of geniality, at which I did not know

whether to be encouraged or not: I did as he told me, and looked about

me with as easy an air as I could muster.

"A little stronghold indeed," I said.

He paid no attention.

"Now, sir," he said, "we have not very much time. Supper will be up in

half in hour; we had best have our talk first, and then you may send for

your servant. Old Alick will find him out."

"With all my heart," I said, wondering that he made so much of my

servant.

He sat down suddenly, and looked at me very heavily and penetratingly.

"Sir," he said, "you are going to hear the truth at last, I said we had

not much time. Well; we have not."

"Then let me have the truth quickly," I said.

He took his eyes from my face. I was glad of that; as I did not greatly

like his regard. What, thought I, if I be alone with a madman?

"Well, sir," he said, "we are driven desperate, as you may have guessed.

I say, we; for you have identified yourself with our cause a hundred

times over. My Lord Shaftesbury is gone; my Lord Essex is hanging back.

Well; but those are not all. We have other men besides those that have

been urged on and urged on, and now cannot be restrained. I have tried

to restrain them myself"--(here he gulped in his throat: lying was not

very easy to this man, I think)--"and I have failed. Well, sir, I must

trust you more than I have ever trusted you before."

Again he stopped.

Then all came out with a rush.

"Not half a mile from here," said he, "along the Newmarket road there be

twenty men, with blunderbusses and other arms, waiting for His Majesty

and the Duke, who will come to-morrow."

"But how do you know?" cried I--all bewildered for the instant.

His head shook with passion.

"Listen," said he. "We have had certain information that they come this

way--Why, do you think we have not--" (again he broke off; but I knew

well enough what he would have said!) "I tell you we know it. The King

is not lying at Royston, to-night. He comes by this road to-morrow. Now

then, sir--what do you say to that?"

My mind was still all in a whirl. I had looked for sudden danger, but

not so sudden as this. Half a dozen questions flashed before me. I put

the first into words:

"Why have you told me?" I cried.

His face contracted suddenly. (It was growing very dark by now, and we

had no candles. The muscles of his face stood out like cords.)

"Not so loud!" said he; and then: "Well, are you not one of us? You are

pledged very deeply, sir; I tell you."

Then came the blessed relief. For the first moment, so genuine appeared

his passion, I had believed him; and that the ambushment was there, as

he had said. Then, like a train of gunpowder, light ran along my mind

and I understood that it was the same game still that they were playing

with me; that there was no ambushment ready; that they had indeed fixed

upon this journey of the King's; but that they were unprepared and

desired delay. His anxiety about my servant; his evident displeasure and

impatience; his sending for me at all when he must have known over and

over again that I was not of his party--each detail fitted in like a

puzzle. And yet I must not shew a sign of it!

I hid my face in my hands for a moment, to think what I could answer.

Then I looked up.

"Mr. Rumbald," said I, "you are right. I am too deeply pledged. Tell me

what I am to do. It is sink or swim with me now."

He believed, of course, that I was lying; and so I was, but not as he

thought. He believed that he had gained his point; and the relief of

that thought melted him. He believed, that is, that I should presently

make an excuse to get hold of my servant and send him off to delay the

King's coming. Then, I suppose, he saw the one flaw in his design; and

he strove, very pitifully, to put it right.

"One more thing, Mr. Mallock," said he, "this is not the only party that

waits for him. There is another on the Royston road, among the downs

near Barkway. They will catch him whichever way he comes."

I nodded.

"I had supposed so," I said; for I did not wish to confuse him further.

"Well," said he, "why I have sent for you is that you may help me here.

There may be more guards with the King than we think for. It may come to

a fight; and even a siege here--if they come this way. We must be ready

to defend this place for a little."

It was, indeed, pitiful to see how poor he was as an actor. His

sternness was all gone, or very nearly: he babbled freely and

drunkenly--walking up and down the chamber, like a restless beast. He

told me point after point that he need not--even their very code--how

"swan-quills" and "goose-quills" and "crow-quills" stood for

blunderbusses and muskets and pistols; and "sand and ink" for powder and

balls. It was, as I say, pitiful to see him, now that his anxiety was

over, and he had me, as he thought, in his toils. It was a very strange

nature that he had altogether;--this old Cromwellian and Puritan--and I

am not sure to this day whether he were not in good faith in his

murderous designs. I thought of these things, even at this moment; and

wondered what he would do if he knew the truth.

At supper he fell silent again, and even morose; and I think it

possible he may have had some suspicions of me; for he suspected

everyone, I think. But he brightened wonderfully when I said with a very

innocent air that I would like my servant to be fetched, and that I

would give him his instructions and send him back to London, for that I

did not wish to embroil him in this matter.

"Why, certainly, Mr. Mallock," he said, "it is what I wish. I trust you

utterly, as you see. You shall see him where you will."

He turned to his old man who came in at that instant, and bade him fetch

Mr. Mallock's servant from Hoddesdon. I described him to Alick, and

scribbled a note that would bring him. Then we fell to the same kind of

talking again.

* * * * *

It was eight o'clock, pretty well, by the time that James came to the

Rye. I had determined to see him out of doors where none could hear us;

and before eight I was walking up and down in the dark between the gate

and the house, talking to my host. When the two men came through the

gate, Rumbald was very particular to leave me immediately, that I might,

as he thought, send my man to Newmarket to put off the King's coming;

and have no interruption.

"I will leave you," said he. "You shall see how much I trust you."

I waited till he was gone in and the door shut. Then I took James apart

into a little walled garden that I had noticed as I came in, where we

could not by any chance be overheard. Even then too I spoke in a very

small whisper.

"James," said I, "go back to Hoddesdon; and get a fresh horse. Leave all

luggage behind and ride as light as you can, for you must go straight to

Newmarket; and be there before six o'clock, at any cost. Go straight to

the King's lodgings, and ask for any of Mr. Chiffinch's men that are

there, whom you know. Do you know of any who are there?"

"Yes, sir," whispered James; and he named one.

"Very good. With him you must go straight to His Majesty; and have him

awakened if need be. Tell him that you come from me--Mr. Chiffinch's

men will support you in that. Tell His Majesty that if he values his

life he must return to town to-morrow--and not sleep anywhere on the

way: and that the Duke of York must come with him. Tell him that there

is no fear whatever if he comes at once; but that there is every fear if

he delays. He had best come, too, by this road and not by Royston. You

understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I shall remain here until to-morrow night at the earliest. If I am not

at home by Sunday night, go to Mr. Chiffinch, as I told you this

morning. Is all clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go at once. Spare no horses or expense. Good-night, James."

"Good-night, sir."

I watched him out of the gate. Then I turned and went back to the house.

CHAPTER X

It was a strange night and day that followed. On the one side my host

found it hard, I think, to maintain the story he had told me, in action;

for, in accordance with his tale, he had to bear himself as though he

expected before nightfall the assassination of the King and His Royal

Highness half a mile away, and the rush of the murderers to his house

for shelter. On my side, it was scarcely less hard, for I knew nothing

of how my man James had fared, or whether or no His Majesty would act

upon my message. I guessed, however, that he would, if only my man got

there; for Chiffinch's men (who now followed him everywhere) would be as

eager as I that no danger should come to him.

My plans therefore were more secure than Rumbald's; since I knew, either

that His Majesty would come, and no harm done, or that, merely, he would

not come. In the latter case Rumbald would be certified that I had done

as he thought I would; and would, no doubt, let me go peacefully, to use

me again later in the same manner, if occasion rose. For myself, then, I

intended after nightfall at the latest to ride back to London and report

all that had passed; and, if the King had not come, to lay all in Mr.

Chiffinch's hands for his further protection.

I was left a good deal to myself during the morning--Mr. Rumbald's

powers of dissimulation being, I think, less than his desire for them;

and I did not quarrel with that. I was very restless myself, and spent a

good deal of time in examining the house and the old arms, used no

doubt, forty years ago in the Civil War, that were hung up everywhere.

Within, as well as without, it was liker an arsenal or a barracks, than

a dwelling-house. Its lonely situation too, and its strength, made it a

very suitable place for such a design as that which its owner had for

it. The great chamber, at the head of the stairs, and over the archway,

where we had our food, was no doubt the room where the conspirators had

held their meetings.

A little before eleven o'clock, as I was walking in the open space

between the house and the gate, I saw a fellow look in suddenly from the

road, and then was away again. Every movement perturbed me, as may be

imagined in such suspense; yet anything was better than ignorance, and I

called out to let him see that I had observed him. So he came forward

again; and I saw him to be the little carpenter, or what not, that had

wished to speak to Rumbald yesterday at the inn.

He saluted me very properly.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, "but is Mr. Rumbald within?"

Now I had seen Mr. Rumbald, not ten minutes ago, slip back into the

house from the outhouses where he had pretended to go upon some

preparation or other for the reception of the assassins this evening;

but he had not known that I saw him.

"He is very busy at present," said I. "Cannot I do your business for

you?"