(I tried to look as if I knew more than I did.)

"Why, sir," he said, "I think not."

He seemed, I thought, in a very pitiable state. (I learned some months

later that he was come down expressly to dissuade Rumbald from any

attempt at that time; but I did not know that then.) Here, only, thought

I, is one of the chicken-hearted ones. I determined to play upon his

fears, if I could, and at the same time, perhaps, upon his hopes.

"I think I can, however," I said. "You would be out of the business, if

you could, would you not?"

He turned so white that I thought he would have fallen. I saw that my

shot had told; but it was not a hard one to make.

"Hold up, man," I said. "Why, what do you suppose I am here for?"

"What business, sir?" he said. "I do not know what you mean."

I smiled; so that he could see me do it.

"Very good, then," I said. "I will leave you to Mr. Rumbald;" and I

made as if I would pass on.

"Sir," he said, "can you give me any assurance?... I am terrified." And

indeed he looked it; so I supposed that he thought that the attempt was

indeed to be made to-day. I determined on a bold stroke.

"My man!" I said. "If you will tell me your name, and then begone at

once, back to town, I will tell you something that will be of service to

you. If not--" and I broke off.

He looked at me piteously. I think my air frightened him. He drew back a

little from the house, though we were in a place where we could not be

seen from the windows.

"My name is Keeling, sir. You will not betray me? What is it, sir?"

"Well," said I, "I can give you an assurance that what you fear will not

take place. There is not a man here beyond myself and Mr. Rumbald and

old Alick. Now begone at once. Stay; where do you live?"

He shook his head. A little colour had come back to his face again at

the news.

"No, sir; that was not in the bargain. I will begone, sir, as you said;

and thank you, sir."

He slipped back again very quickly, and was vanished. I suppose that he

had ridden down in some cart all night, and that he went back in the

same way, for I saw no more of him.

Well; I had gained two little points--I had kept him from Mr. Rumbald,

which was one--(for I did not want my host to consult with any if I

could help it)--and I had learned what perhaps was his name. This,

however, I would test for myself presently.

At noon we dined; and having observed no difference in my host's manner,

that might shew that he had any idea I had met with anyone, I made two

remarks.

"I talked with a fellow at the gate this morning," I said; "he seemed to

know nothing of the King's coming."

Rumbald jerked his head impatiently; and I perceived that we had not

been seen. Presently I said:

"Who was that pale-looking fellow who wished to speak with you

yesterday, Mr. Rumbald, at the _Mitre?_"

He looked sharply at me for an instant.

"His name is Thompson," said he. "He is one of my malting-men."

Then I knew that he had lied. A man does not invent the name of Keeling,

but very easily the name of Thompson. So I saw that Rumbald had not yet

lost all discretion; and indeed, for all his talk, he had hardly spoken

a name that I could get hold of.

After a while I ventured on another sentence which suited my purpose,

and at the same time confirmed him in his own view.

"If by any chance His Majesty should not come to-day--will it be done,

do you think, to-morrow? Shall you wait till he does come?"

He shook his head and lied again very promptly.

"If it is not done to-day, it will never be done."

Looking back on the affair now, I truly do wonder at the adroitness with

which we both talked. There was scarcely a slip on either side, though

we were at cross-purposes if ever men were. But I suppose that in both

of us there was a very great tension of mind--as of men walking on the

edge of a precipice; and it was the knowledge of that which saved us

both. After dinner I said I would walk again out of doors; and he

thought it was mere affectation, since I must know by now that His

Majesty was not coming.

"Well," I said, "if by any mischance His Majesty doth not come to-day, I

will get back to town."

He looked at me; but he kept any kind of irony out of his face.

"You had best do that," he said.

* * * * *

Now it must have been forty miles from Newmarket to the Rye; and I had

calculated that His Majesty would not start till nine o'clock at the

earliest. He would have four horses and would change them at least three

times; but they would not be able to go out of a trot for most of the

way, so that I need not look for any news of him till three o'clock at

the earliest. From then till five o'clock would be the time. If he were

not come by five, or at the very latest half-past, I should know that my

design had miscarried.

It is very difficult for me to describe at all the state I was in--all

the more as I dared not shew it. It was not merely that my Sovereign was

at stake, but a great deal more than that. My religion too was in some

peril, for if, by any mischance things should not go as I expected; if,

as certainly occurred to my mind as one possibility in ten, I had

completely mistaken Rumbald, and he had spoken the truth for once--it

was not the King only who would perish, but the Catholic heir also, and

then good-bye to all our hopes. Yet, I declare that even this did not

affect me so much as the thought that it was the man whom I had learned

to love that was in peril--to love, in spite of his selfishness and his

indolence and his sins. It was all but an intolerable thought to me that

that melancholy fiery man who had so scolded me--whom, to tell the

truth, I had scolded back--that this man might, even in imagination, be

mixed up with the horror of the firing of guns and the plunging of the

wounded horses--should himself be shot at and murdered, there in the

lonely Hertfordshire lane.

At about three o'clock I could bear it no more. God knows how many

prayers I had said; for I think I prayed all the time, as even careless

men will do at such crises. There was the grim house behind me, the

leafless trees overhead, the lane stretching up northwards beyond the

gate. All was very silent, except for the barking of a dog now and

again. It was a very solitary place--the very place for a murder; there

were no meadows near us, where men might be working, but only the deep

woods. It was a clearish kind of day, with clouds in the west.

At about three o'clock then I went to the stables to see my horse. These

were behind the house. There was no one about, and no other horse in the

stables but Rumbald's own black mare that had carried him yesterday.

It came to me as I looked at my horse that no harm would be done if I

put the saddle on him. Rumbald would but think me a little foolish for

so confessing in action that I knew the King would not come; and for

myself it would be some relief to my feelings to know that if by any

mischance I did hear the sound of shots, I could at least ride up and do

my best, though I knew it would be too late.

I saddled my horse then, and put on the bridle, as quickly as I could.

Then, again, I thought there would be no harm done if I led him out to

the gate and fastened him there. I looked out of the stable door, but

there was no one in sight. So I led my horse out, as quietly as I could,

yet openly, and brought him round past the front of the house and so

towards the gate. I thought nothing of my valise; for at that time I

intended no more than what I had said. I was uneasy, and had no

determined plans. I would tell Rumbald, if he came out, that I was but

holding myself ready to ride out if I were needed.

Then, as I came past the front of the house, I heard, very distinctly in

the still air, the tramp of horses far away on the hill to the north;

and I knew enough of that sound to tell me that there were at least

eight or nine coming, and coming fast.

Now it might have been the coach of anyone coming that way. The races

were at Newmarket, and plenty went to and fro, though it is true that

none had come this way all day. Yet at that sound my heart leapt up,

both in excitement and terror. What if I had made any mistake, and

enticed the King to his death? Well, it would be my death too--but I

swear I did not think of that! All I know is that I broke into a run,

and the horse into a trot after me; and as I reached the gate heard

Rumbald run out of the house behind me.

I paid him no attention at all, though I heard his breathing at my

shoulder. I was listening for the tramp and rattle of the hoofs again,

for the sound had died away in a hollow of the road I suppose. Then

again they rang out; and I thought they must be coming very near the

place he had told me of; and I turned and looked at him; but I think he

did not see me. He too was staring out, his face gone pale under its

ruddiness, listening for what very well might be the end of all his

hopes.

Then the distant hoofs grew muffled once more, though not altogether;

and, at that, Rumbald ran out into the road as he was, bareheaded; and I

saw that he carried a cleaver in his hand, caught up, I suppose, at

random; for it was of no use to him.

Then, loud and clear not a hundred yards away I heard the rattle and

roar of a coach coming down the hill and the tramp of the hoofs.

"Back, you fool," I screamed, "back!" for I dared not pull my horse out

into the road. "Throw it away!"

He turned on me with the face of a devil. Though he must have seen the

liveries and the guardsmen from where he stood, I think not even yet did

he take in how he had been deceived; but that he began to suspect it, I

have no doubt.

He came back at my cry, as if unwillingly, and stood by my side; but

never a word did he say: and together we waited.

Then, past the gate on the left, over the hedge, I caught a flash of

colour, and another, come and gone again; and then the gleam of a

coach-roof; and, though I had no certainty from my senses, I was as sure

it was the King, as if I had seen him.

So we waited still. I drew up in my hands my horse's bridle, not knowing

what I did, and moved round to where I could mount, if there were any

road; and, as I did it, past the gate, full in view there swept at a

gallop, first three guards riding abreast, a brave blaze of colour in

the dusky lane; then the four grey horses, with their postilions

cracking their whips; then the coach; and, as this passed, as plain as a

picture I saw the King lean forward and look--his great hat and periwig

thrust forward--and behind him another man. Then the coach was gone; and

two more guards flew by and were gone too.

I lost my head completely for the single time, I think, in all this

affair; now that I knew that the King was safe. There, standing where I

was, I lifted my hat, and shouted with my full voice:

"God save the King!"

* * * * *

I turned as I shouted; and, as the last word left my lips, I saw

Rumbald, his face afire with anger, coming at me, round my horse from

behind, with the cleaver upraised. If he had not been near mad with

disappointment, he would have struck at my horse; but he was too intent

on me for that.

I leapt forward, for I had no time to do anything else, dragging my

horse's haunches forward again and round; and with the next movement I

was across my saddle, all-asprawl, as my horse started and plunged. I

was ten yards away before the man could do anything, and struggling to

my seat; but, as I rose and gripped the reins, something flew over my

head, scarce missing it by six inches; and I saw the blade of the

cleaver flash into the ditch beyond.

At that, I turned and lifted my hat, reining in my horse; for I was as

mad with success as the other man with failure.

"God save the King!" I cried again. "Ah! Mr. Rumbald, if only you had

learned to speak the truth!"

Then I put in my spurs and was gone, hearing before me, the hollow tramp

and rumble of the great coach in front, as the King's party went across

the bridge.

CHAPTER XI

It was three months later that I sat once more, though not for the first

time since my adventure at the Rye in Mr. Chiffinch's parlour.

* * * * *

Of those three months I need not say very much; especially of the

beginning of them, since I received then, I think, more compliments than

ever in my life before. My interviews had been very many; not with Mr.

Chiffinch only, but with two other personages whose lives, they were

pleased to say, I had saved.

His Majesty had laughed very heartily indeed at the tale of my

adventures.

"Odds-fish!" said he. "We had all been done, but for you, Mr. Mallock.

It was three or four days after, at the least, that I had intended

returning; and by that time, no doubt, our friends would have had their

ambushment complete. But when your man came, all a-sweat, into my very

bed-chamber, telling me to fly for my life--well; there was no more to

be said. There was a fire too at my lodgings that same morning;--and

poor Sir Christopher's low ceilings all ruined with the smoke--but that

would not have brought me, though I suppose we must give out that it

did. No; Mr. Mallock, 'twas you, and no other. Odds-fish! I did not

think I had such an accomplished liar in my service!"

His Royal Highness, too, was no less gracious; though he talked in a

very different fashion.

To him there was no humour in the matter at all; 'twas all God's

Providence; and I am not sure but that he was not more right than his

brother; though indeed there are always two sides to a thing. His talk

was less of myself, and more of the interests I had served; and there

too he was right; for, as I have said, if there had been any mistake in

the matter, good-bye to Catholic hopes.

My first interview with Mr. Chiffinch astonished me most. When he had

finished paying compliments, I began on business.

"You will hardly catch Rumbald," said I, "unless you take him pretty

soon. He too will be off to Holland, I think."

He shook his head, smiling.

"I am sorry not to be able to give you vengeance for that

cleaver-throwing; but you must wait awhile."

"Wait?" cried I.

"What single name do you know besides that of Rumbald, which was

certainly involved in this affair? Why, Mr. Mallock, you yourself have

told me that he observed discretion so far; and did not name a single

man."

"Well; there is Keeling," I said.

"And what is Keeling?" he asked with some contempt. "A maltster, and a

carpenter: a fine bag of assassins! And how can you prove anything but

treasonable talk? Where were the 'swan-quills' and the 'sand and the

ink'? Did you set eyes on any of them?"

I was silent.

"No, no, Mr. Mallock; we must wait awhile. I have even talked to

Jeffreys, and he says the same. We must lime more birds before we pull

our twig down. Now, if you could lay your hand on Keeling!"

He was right: I saw that well enough.

"And meantime," said I, smiling, "I must go in peril of my life. They

surely know now what part I have played?"

"They must be fools if they do not. But there will be no more

cleaver-throwing for the present, if you take but reasonable care.

Meanwhile, you may go to Hare Street, if you will; though I cannot say I

should advise it. And I will look for Keeling."

* * * * *

Well; I did not take his advice. That was too much to expect. I went to

Hare Street in April and remained there a couple of months; but I do not

propose to discourse on that beyond saying that I was very well

satisfied, and even with Cousin Tom himself, who appeared to me more

resigned to have me as a son-in-law. To neither of them could I say a

word of what had passed, except to tell Dolly that my peril was over for

the present, and to thank her for her prayers. During those two months I

had no word of Rumbald at all; and I suspect that he lay very quiet,

knowing, after all, how little I knew. If he went to Holland, he

certainly came back again. Then, in June, once more a man came from Mr.

Chiffinch, to call me to town. So here I sat once more, with the birds

singing their vespers, in the Privy Garden, a hundred yards away, and

the river flowing without the windows, as if no blood had ever flowed

with it.

"Well," said Chiffinch, when I was down in a chair, "the first news is

that we have found Keeling. You were right, or very nearly. He is a

joiner, and lives in the City. He hath been to the Secretary of the

Council, and will go to him again to-morrow."

"How was that done?" I asked.

"Why, I sent a couple of men to him," said the page, "when we had marked

him down; who so worked on his fears that he went straight to my Lord

Dartmouth; and my Lord Dartmouth carried him to Sir Leoline Jenkins. The

Secretary very properly remarked that he was but one witness; and

Keeling went away again, to see if he can find another. Well; the tale

is that he hath found another--his own brother--and that both will go

again to the Secretary to-morrow. So I thought it best that you should

see him first here, to-night, to identify him for certain."

"That is very good," I said. "But, Mr. Chaffinch, if I appear too

publicly in this matter, I shall be of very little service to the King

hereafter."

"I know that very well," said the page. "And you shall not appear

publicly at all, neither shall your name. Indeed, the King hath a little

more business for you at last, in France; and you will wish perhaps to

go to Rome. So the best thing that you can do, when we have seen that

all is in order, is to wait no longer, but be off, and for a good while

too. Your life may be in some peril for the very particular part that

you played, for though we shall catch, I think, all the principal men

in the affair, we shall not catch all the underlings; and even a joiner

or a scavenger for that matter, if he be angry enough, is enough to let

the life out of a man. And we cannot spare you yet, Mr. Mallock."

This seemed to me both reasonable and thoughtful; and it was not

altogether a surprise to me. Indeed I had prepared Dolly for a long

absence, thinking that I might go to Rome again, as I had not been there

for a long while. Besides, waiting in England for the time laid down by

Tom and agreed to by both of us, would make that time come no swifter;

and, if there were work to be done, I had best do it, before I had a

wife to engage my attention.

But I sighed a little.

"Well," said I; "and where is Keeling?"

"I have been expecting him this last ten minutes," said he.

Even as he spoke, a knock came upon the door. The page cried to come in;

and there entered, first a servant holding the door, and then the little

joiner himself, flushed in his face, I supposed with the excitement. He

was dressed in his Sunday clothes, rather ill-fitting. He did not know

me, I think, for he made no movement of surprise. I caught Mr.

Chiffinch's look of inquiry, and nodded very slightly.

"Well, sir," began the page in a very severe tone, "so you have made up

your mind to evade the charge of misprision of treason--that, at the

least!"

"Yes, sir," said the man in a very timid way. (He must have heard that

phrase pretty often lately.)

"Well; and you have found your other witness?"

"Yes, sir; my own brother, sir."

"Ah! Was he too in this detestable affair?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then; how do you bring him in?"

"Sir," said the man, seeming to recover himself a little, "I put my

brother in a secret place; and then caused him to overhear a

conversation between myself and another."

"Very pretty! very pretty!" cried the page. "And who was this other?"

"Sir; it was a Mr. Goodenough--under-sheriff once of--"

I could not restrain a start; for I had not thought Mr. Goodenough, the

friend of my Lord Essex, to be so deep in the affair as this. Keeling

saw me start, I suppose; for he looked at me, and himself showed sudden

agitation.

"Good evening, Keeling," said I. "We have had a little conversation once

before."

"Oh! for God's sake, gentlemen! for God's sake! I am already within an

inch of my life."

"I know you are," said Mr. Chiffinch severely, "and you will be nearer

even than that, if you do not speak the whole truth."

"Sir; it is not that I mean," cried the man, in a very panic of terror.

"Rumbald hath been--"

"Eh? What is that?" said Mr. Chiffinch.

"Rumbald, sir, the old Colonel, of the Rye--"

"God, man! We know all about Rumbald," said the page contemptuously.

"What hath he been at now?"

"Sir; he and some of the others caught me but yesterday. They had heard

some tale of my having been to Mr. Secretary, and--"

"And you swore you had not, I suppose," snarled the other.

"Sir; what could I do? Rumbald was all for despatching me then and

there. They caught me at Wapping. I prayed them for God's love not to

believe such things: I entreated: I wept--"

"I'll be bound you did," said Mr. Chiffinch. "Well? And what then?"

"Sir! they let me go again."

"They did? The damned fools!" cried Chiffinch.

I was astonished at his vehemence. But, like his master, if there was

one thing that the page could not bear, it was a fool. I made him a

little sign.

"Keeling," said I, "you remember me well enough. Well; I need not say

that we know pretty near everything that there is to know. But we must

have it from you, too. Tell us both now, as near as you can recollect,

every name to which you can speak with certainty. Remember, we want no

lies. We had enough of them a while back in another plot." (I could not

resist that; though Mr. Chiffinch snapped his lips together.) "Well,

now, take your time. No, do not speak. Consider yourself carefully."

It was, indeed, a miserable sight to see this poor wretch so hemmed in.

The sweet evening light fell full upon his terrified eyes and his

working lips, as he sought to gather up the names. He was persuaded, I

am sure, that we were as gods, knowing all things--above all, he feared

myself, as I could see, having met me first at the very house of

Rumbald, as if I were his friend, and now again in the chamber of his

accuser. It was piteous to see how he sought to be very exact in his

memories, and not go by a hair's breadth beyond the truth.

At last I let him speak.

"Now then," I said, "tell us the names." (I saw as I spoke that Mr.

Chiffinch held a note-book below the table to take them down.)

"Sir, these for certain. Rumbald; West; Rumsey--"

"Slowly, man, slowly," I cried.

"Rumsey; Goodenough; Burton; Thompson; Barber--those last three all of

Wapping, sir. Then, sir, there is Wade, Nelthrop, West, Walcot--" he

hesitated.

"Well, sir," demanded Mr. Chiffinch very fiercely. "That is not all."

"No, sir, no no.... There is Hone, a joiner like myself."

"Man," cried the page, "we want better names than snivelling tradesmen

like yourself."

The fellow turned even paler.

"Well, sir; but how can I tell that--"

"Sir," said the page to me sharply, "call the guard!"

"Sir," cried the poor wretch, "I will tell all; indeed I will tell."

"Well?"

"Sir, the Duke of Monmouth was in it--at least we heard so. He was

certainly in the former plot!"

"And what was that?" asked the other very quietly.

"Why, sir; the plot to assault Whitehall; it is all one in reality;

but--"

"We know all about that," snapped the page sharply. "Well; and what

other names?"

"Sir; there was my Lord Russell."

I moved in my chair. Even to this day I cannot believe that that peer

was guilty; though indeed he was found so to be. Mr. Chiffinch cast me a

look.

"Proceed, sir," he said.

"And there was Mr. Ferguson, a minister; and Mr. Wildman; and my Lord

Argyle in Scotland; and my Lord Howard of Escrick; and Mr. Sidney; and

my Lord Essex. I do not say, sir, that all those--"

"There! there: go on. We shall test every word you say; you may depend

upon it. What other names have you?"

"There was my Lord Grey, sir; and Sir Thomas Armstrong ... Sir; I can

remember no more!"

"And a pretty load on any man's conscience!" cried the virtuous Mr.

Chiffinch. "And so all this nest of assassins--"

"Sir; I did not say that. I said--"

"That is enough; we want no comments and glosses, but the bare truth.

Well, Keeling, if this tale be true, you have saved your own life--that

is, if your fellow murderers do not get at you again. You have been in

trouble before, I hear, too."

"Sir; it was on the matter of the Lord Mayor--"

"I know that well enough. Well, sir; so this is the tale you will tell

to-morrow to Mr. Secretary."

"Yes, sir, if I can remember it all."

"You will remember it, I'll warrant. Well, sir; I think I have no more

questions for the present. Sir, have you any questions to ask this man?"

I shook my head. I was near sick at the torture the man was in.

"Well, sir; you may go," said the page. "And I would recommend you and

your brother to lie very private to-night. There must be no more

evasion."

* * * * *

When he was gone, Mr. Chiffinch turned to me.

"Well?" he said. "What do you think?"

"Oh! I think he speaks the truth, in the main," I said wearily. "Shall I

be needed any more; or when may I leave town?"

"You must wait, Mr. Mallock, until we have laid hands on them."

* * * * *

It was not until the middle of July that I was able to leave. On the

eighteenth of June a proclamation was issued, with the names of some of

the conspirators; and numerous arrests were made. One matter pleased me

a little, and that was that Keeling had been man enough after all, to

warn some of the humbler folk, who had been led into the affair, of what

he had done; and the most of these got clean away. Then Sheppard came

forward and betrayed three or four who had met in his house, as I had

seen for myself: and West added many details. A second proclamation

containing the names, and offering rewards for the arrest of Monmouth,

my Lord Grey, Sir Thomas Armstrong and the Reverend Robert Ferguson, was

made after my Lord Russell's arrest; but all four of them escaped. My

Lords Howard and Essex were taken on the tenth of July; and two days

later Walcot, Hone and Rouse were convicted.

As soon as my Lord Russell's trial was begun, and the certainty that he

would be convicted was made plain by my Lord Howard turning King's

evidence, I left London with my man James. And before we were at Dover

the news came to us that my Lord Essex, in despair, had cut his throat

in the Tower. As for myself, I was glad enough to leave; for I was both

sick and weary of intrigue. It would be of a very different sort in

France; and of a kind that a gentleman may undertake without misgivings:

so, though I was loth to leave the land where Dolly was, the balance

altogether left me refreshed rather than saddened.

* * * * *

It was a clear day as the packet put out from Dover; and, as I stood on

deck, watching the cliffs recede as we went, there came on me again that

same mood that had fallen on me as I went up the river so long ago from

Wapping. Once more it appeared to me as if I were in somewhat of a

dream. Those men I had left behind, awaiting trial and death; Mr.

Chiffinch; the King, the Court, even Dolly herself, appeared to have

something phantom-like about them. Once more the realities seemed to

close about me and envelop me--or rather that great Reality whom we name

God; and all else seemed but very little and trifling.

PART IV

CHAPTER I

Once more it was high summer, a year afterwards, as I rode in, still

with James, thank God! and three other men, over London Bridge.

* * * * *

My life abroad once more must remain undescribed. There is plenty of

reason against the telling of it; and nothing at all for it. One thing

only may I say, that I came last from Rome, having stayed over for the

Feast of the Apostles, and carried with me, though verbally only, some

very particular instructions for His Royal Highness the Duke of York

from personages whom he should respect, if he did not. And what those

counsels were will appear in the proper place. By those same personages

I had been complimented very considerably, and urged to yet greater

efforts. Briefly with regard to the two Royal Brothers, I was urged to

press on the one, and to restrain the other; for I heard in Rome that it

was said that they would listen to me, if I observed discretion.

As to what had passed in England, a very short account will suffice.

First, with regard to the conspirators, a number had been executed,

among whom I suppose must be reckoned my Lord Russell--an upright man, I

think; yet one who had at least played with very hot fire. Frankly, I do

not believe that he aimed ever at the King's life, but that my Lord

Howard witnessed that he did, in order to save himself. Of the others

that were executed, I think all deserved it; and the principal, I

suppose, was Mr. Sidney, that ancient Republican and Commonwealth man,

who was undoubtedly guilty. Besides him, my Lord Essex had killed

himself in prison--for I never believed the ugly story of the bloody

razor having been thrown out of his window--and Sir Thomas Armstrong was

executed--and richly he had earned it by a thousand crimes and

debaucheries--and old Colonel Rumbald; whose fate, I must allow, caused

me a little sorrow (even though he had flung a sharp cleaver at my

head), for he was very much more of a man than that puling treacherous

hound my Lord Howard, who was taken hiding in his shirt, up his own

chimney, and turned traitor to his friends. Holloway too--a merchant of

Bristol, and a friend of Mr. Ferguson--was executed, and several in

Edinburgh, of the Scottish plotters under Argyle, among whom the

principal was Baillie of Jerviswood. The torture of the boot and the

thumbscrews was used there, I am sorry to say; for they had plenty of

evidence without it. Of the others some evaded altogether, of whom a

good number went to Holland, which was their great refuge at this time,

and others again saved their lives by turning King's evidence. The

Reverend Mr. Ferguson proved himself a clever fellow, as indeed I had

thought him, and a courageous one too, for after attending my Lord

Shaftesbury upon his deathbed, he returned again to Edinburgh, and

there, upon search being made for him, hid himself in the very prison to

which they wished to consign him, and so escaped the death he had

earned.

With regard to the Duke of Monmouth, affairs had taken a very strange

course; and His Majesty, as I think, had behaved with less than his

usual wisdom. Before even Mr. Sidney's death, the Duke had made his

peace, both with the King and the Duke of York, and had, after

expressing extraordinary contrition, and yet denying that he had been in

any way privy to any attempt on the King's life, received a pardon. But

he had not been content with that; and so soon as the _Gazette_

announced that it was so, and had given men to understand that Monmouth

had made his peace by turning King's evidence, what must His Grace do,

but deny it again, and cause it to be denied too in all the

coffee-houses in town? The King was thrown into a passion by this; and

once again His Grace had to sign and read aloud a paper, in the presence

of witnesses and of the King, in the private parlour of the Duchess of

Portsmouth's lodgings--(where, it must be confessed, His Majesty did

much of his business at this time). But the paper was not explicit

enough, and must be re-written: and so the foolish shilly-shally went

on--and he guilty all the time--and at last he evaded them all, and went

back again to Holland.

There was another piece of news that had come to me lately that pleased

me better; and that was of the trial of Oates, for treasonous speaking,

and his condemnation in one hundred thousand pounds, which caused him to

be shut up in prison without more ado, where he could do no more

mischief. Indeed his credit was all gone now, thank God! and all that he

had to do in prison was to prepare himself for his whippings which he

got a year later. A few months earlier too, the four Popish lords that

had been left in the Tower were released again, which I was very glad to

hear of.

Other matters too had passed; but I think I have said enough to shew how

affairs stood in the month of July when I came back to England--with the

exception of what I shall relate presently as of my own experience.

* * * * *

The evening was as bright and fair as that on which I had come back to

London near two years and a half ago, with so heavy a heart, to find

Dolly at Court; but this time the heaviness was all gone. I had had

letters from her continually, and all those I carried with me. She told

me that her father seemed a little moody, now and again; but I did not

care very greatly about that. He could be as moody as he liked, if he

but let her and me alone. It was less than a year now from my

twenty-eighth birthday, which was the period that had been fixed.

Now a piece of news had reached me at Dover that made me pretty content;

and that was that His Majesty desired me to have lodgings now in

Whitehall. These were very hard to come by, except a man had great

influence; and I was happy to think that such as I had was from the King

himself. So I did not return northwards this time from the Strand, but

held on, and so to the gate of Whitehall. Here I was stopped and asked

my name.

I gave it; and the officer saluted me very civilly.

"Your lodgings are ready, sir," said he. "Mr. Chiffinch was very urgent

about them. And he bade me tell you you would find visitors there, if

you came before eight o'clock."

It was now scarcely gone seven; but I thought very little of my

visitors, supposing they might perhaps be Mr. Chiffinch himself and a

friend: so I inquired very, leisurely where the lodgings were situate.

"They are my Lord Peterborough's old lodgings, sir," said the man. "He

hath moved elsewhere. They look out upon the Privy Garden and the

bowling-green; or, to be more close, on the trees between them."

This was a fine piece of news indeed; for these lodgings were among the

best. I was indeed become a person of importance.

There were two entrances to these lodgings--one from the Stone Gallery,

and the other from the garden; but that into the garden was only a

little door, whose use was not greatly encouraged, because of the

personages that walked there; so I went up the Stone Gallery, between

all the books and the cabinets, and so to my own door; with my James

behind me. My other men I bade follow when they had bestowed the horses

and found their own quarters.

It was a fine entrance, with a new shield over the door; lately scraped

white, for the reception of my own arms. I knocked upon it, and a fellow

opened; and when I had told him my name, he let me through; and I went

upstairs to the parlour that looked over the garden; and there, to my

happiness were my visitors. For they were none other than my dear love

herself and her maid.

I cannot tell what that was to me, to find her there.... The maid was

sent into the little writing-room, next door, into which my visitors

would usually be shewn; and we two sat down on the window-seat. Dolly

looked not a day older: she was in a fine dress.

"See," she said, "you have caught me again at Court? Will you send me

away again this time?"

She told me presently that she and her father were come up to town for a

few days; but must be gone again directly. They had written to Mr.

Chiffinch demanding news of me, and when should I be at liberty to come

to Hare Street; and he had told them that at anyrate not yet for a

while, and that they had best come and see me in my new lodgings. I was

sorry that he had said I could not go to Hare Street for the

present--though I had expected no less; but I soon forgot it again in

her dear presence.

"You are a great man, now, I suppose," she said presently, "too great to

see to the pigs any longer. We have no such rooms as this at Hare

Street."

They were indeed fine; and we went through them together. They were all

furnished from roof to floor; there were some good tapestries and

pictures; and the windows, as the officer had said, looked out for the

most part upon the trees beneath which so long ago I had watched ladies

walking. But I told her that I loved my panelled chamber at Hare Street,

and the little parlour, with the poor Knights of the Grail, who rode

there for ever and never attained their quest, more than all Whitehall.

Then I kissed her again, for perhaps the thirtieth time; and, as I was

doing so Cousin Tom came in.

"Ah!" said he, "I have caught you then!" But he said it without much

merriment.

If Dolly was no older, her father was. There were grey hairs in his

eyebrows, for that was all that I could see of his hair, since he wore a

periwig; and his face appeared a little blotchy.

I met him however with cordiality, and congratulated him on his looks.

He sat down, and presently, to my astonishment, he too opened out upon

my prospects, though in a very different manner from Dolly.

"You are a great man now," he said, "in these fine lodgings. I wonder

His Majesty hath not made you at least a knight."

I was a little angry at his manner. He said it not pleasantly at all;

but as if he found fault. I determined I would not meet his ambitions at

all.

"My dear Cousin," said I, "indeed I am not a knight; and have no hope of

being so. His Majesty hath a thousand men more competent than I."

"Then why hath he given you these lodgings?" said he, with a sharp look.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I am of some convenience to His Majesty; and the more so if I am near

him. I suppose that these lodgings fell vacant in the nick of time."

He looked at me very earnestly. He had, of course, no idea of in what

matters I was engaged: I might have been a mere valet for all he knew.

"That is so?" he said.

"I have no reason to think otherwise," I answered him.

* * * * *

Well; it was growing late; and I had not supped, as Dolly presently

remembered; it was near eight o'clock, and after that time there would

be formalities at the gate as they went out. So they took their leave at

last; and I kissed Dolly for the thirty-first time, and went downstairs

with them, and watched them down the gallery; they having promised to

come again next day.

* * * * *

I had scarcely done supper and looked about me a little, when Mr.

Chiffinch's name was brought to me; and I went to see him in the little

parlour and bring him through to what would be my private closet--so

great was I become! He looked older; and I told him so.

"Well; so I am," said he. "And so are we all. You will be astonished

when you see His Majesty."

"Is he so much older?" I asked.

"He has aged five years in one," said he.

We talked presently (after looking through my lodgings again, to see if

all were as it should be, and after my thanking Mr. Chiffinch for the

pains he had put himself to), first of France and then of Rome. He

shewed himself very astute when we spoke of Rome.

"I do not wish to pry," he said, "but I hope to God's sake that the Holy

Father hath given you a commission to His Royal Highness, to bid him

hold himself more quiet. He will ruin all, if he be not careful."

"Why; how is that?" said I.

"Ah! you ecclesiastics," he cried--"for I count you half an one at

least, in spite of your pretty cousin--you are more close than any of

us! Well; I will tell you as if you did not know."

He put his fingers together, in his old manner.

"First," said he, "he is Lord High Admiral again. I count that very

rash. We are Protestants, we English, you know; and we like not a Papist

to be our guard-in-chief."

"You will have to put up with a Papist as a King, some day," said I.

"Why I suppose so--though I would not have been so sure two years ago.

But a King is another matter from an High Admiral."

"Well; what else has he done?" I asked.

"He hath been readmitted to the Council, in the very face of the Test

Act too. But it is how he bears himself and speaks that is the worst of

all. He carries himself and his religion as openly as he can; and does

all that is in His power to relieve the Papists of disabilities. That is

very courageous, I know; but it is not very shrewd. God knows where he

will stop if once he is on the throne. I think he will not be there

long."

I said nothing; for indeed my instructions were on those very points;

and I knew them all as well as Chiffinch, and, I think, better.

He spoke, presently, of myself.

"As for you, Mr. Mallock, I need not tell you how high you are in favour

here. _Si monumentum requiris, circumspice_"; and he waved his hands at

the rich rooms.

"His Majesty is very good," I said.

"His Majesty hath a peerage for you, if you want it. He said he had made

too many grocers and lickspittles into knights, to make you one."

I cannot deny that to hear that news pleased me. Yet even then I

hesitated.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I at last, "if you mean what you say, I have

something to answer to that."

"Well?" said he.

"Let me have one year more of obscurity. I may be able to do much more

that way. In one year from now I shall be married, as I told you. Well,

when I have a wife she must come to town, and make acquaintances; and

so I shall be known in any case. Let me have it then, if I want it--as a

wedding gift; so that she shall come as My Lady. And I will do what I

can then, in His Majesty's service, more publicly."

"What if His Majesty is dead before that?" said he, regarding me

closely.

"Then we will go without," said I.

He nodded; and said no more.

* * * * *

It was strange to lie down that night in a great room, with four posts

and all their hangings about me, with my Lord Peterborough's arms

emblazoned on the ceiling; and to know that it was indeed I, Roger

Mallock, who lay there, with a man within call; and a coronet, if I

would have it, within reach. It was not till then, I think, that I

understood how swift had been my rise; for here was I, but just

twenty-seven years old, and in England but the better part of six years.

Yet, even then, more than half my thoughts were of Dolly, and of how she

would look in a peeress' robes. I even determined what my title should

be--taken from my French estates in the village of Malmaison, in

Normandy, so foolish and trifling are a man's thoughts at such a time.

One thing, however, I resolved; and that was to say nothing at all of

all this either to Dolly or her father. It should be a wedding gift to

the one, and a consolation to the other; for dearly would my Cousin Tom

love to speak of his son-in-law the Viscount, or even the plain Lord

Malmaison. As for His Majesty's death before another year, I thought

nothing of that; for what young man of twenty-seven years of age thinks

ever that anyone will die? Even should he die too--which I prayed God

might not be yet!--there was His Royal Highness to follow; and I had

served him, all things considered, pretty near as well as his brother.

So, then, I lay in thought, hearing a fountain play somewhere without my

windows, and the rustle of the wind in the limes that stood along the

Privy Garden. I heard midnight strike from the Clock-Tower at the

further end of the palace, before I slept; and presently after the cry

of the watchman that "all was well, and a fair night."

CHAPTER II

It was not until the third day after my coming to town that I had

audience of the Duke--in the evening after supper, having bidden

good-bye that morning, with a very heavy heart, to my cousins, at

Aldgate, whither I had escorted them. I had promised Dolly I would come

when I could; but God knew when that would be!

Even by then, I think, I had become accustomed to my new surroundings. I

had made no friends indeed, for that was expressly contrary to my

desires, since a man on secret service must be very slow to do so; but I

had made a number of acquaintances even in that short time, and had

renewed some others. I had had a word or two with Sir George Jeffreys,

now a long time Lord Chief Justice, in Scroggs' old place; and found him

a very brilliant kind of man, of an extraordinary handsomeness, and no

less extraordinary power--not at all brutal in manner, as I had thought,

but liker to a very bright sword, at once sharp and heavy: and sharp and

heavy indeed men found him when they looked at him from the dock. It was

in Mr. Chiffinch's closet that I was made known to him. I had spoken too

with my Lord Halifax--another brilliant fellow, very satirical and

witty, for which the King loved him, though all the world guessed, and

the King, I think knew, that his opposition to our cause was so hot as

even to keep him in correspondence with the Duke of Monmouth, safe away

in Holland. At least that was the talk in the coffee-houses. He, like

the Lord Keeper North, hated a Papist like the Devil, and all his ways

and wishes. He said of my Lord Rochester, now made president of the

Council--a post of immense dignity and no power at all--that "he was

kicked upstairs," which was a very precise description of the matter.

* * * * *

I was taken straight through into the Duke's private closet, where he

awaited me; and, by the rarest chance His Majesty was just about to take

his leave, and they had me in before he was gone.

I was very deeply shocked by His Majesty's appearance. He was standing

below a pair of candles when I came in, and his face was all in shadow;

but when, after I had saluted the two, he moved out presently, I could

see how fallen his face was, and how heavily lined. Since it was evening

too, and he had not shaved since morning I could see a little

frostiness, as it were, upon his chin. He dyed his eyebrows and

moustaches, I suppose, for these were as black as ever. His melancholy

eyes had a twinkle in them, as he looked at me.

"Well," said he, "so here is our hero back again--come to pay his

respects to the rising sun, I suppose." (But he said it very pleasantly,

without any irony.)

"Why, Sir," said I, "I have always understood that there is neither

rising nor setting with England's sun; but that it is always in

mid-heaven. The King never dies; and the King can do no wrong."

(Such was the manner in which we spoke at Court in those days--very

foolish and bombastic, no doubt.)

"Hark to that, brother," said the King; "there is a pretty compliment to

us both! It is to neither of us that Mr. Mallock is loyal; but to the

Crown only."

"It is that which we all serve, Sir," said I; "even Your Majesty."

The King smiled.

"Well," he said, "I must be off while you two plot, I suppose. Come and

see me too, Mr. Mallock; when you have done all your duties."

I took him to the door of the closet where the servants were waiting for

him; and even his gait seemed to me older.

Now James had very little--(though no Stuart could have none)--of his

family's charm. He looked no older, no sharper and no lighter than a

year ago; and he had learned nothing from adversity, as I presently

understood. He very graciously made me sit down; but in even that the

condescension was evident--not as his brother did it.

"You have been to Rome, again," he said pretty soon, when he had told

me how he did, and how the King was not so well as he had been. "And

what news do you bring with you?"

I told him first of the Holy Father's health, and delivered a few

compliments from one or two of the Cardinals, and spoke of three or four

general matters of the Court there. He nodded and asked some questions;

but I could see that he was thinking of something else.

"But you have more to say to me, have you not?" said he. "I had a letter

from the Cardinal Secretary--" he paused.

"Yes, Sir," said I. "The Holy Father was graciously pleased to put me at

Your Royal Highness' disposal, if you should wish to know His Holiness'

mind on one or two affairs."

I put it like this, as gently as I could; for indeed I had something

very like a scolding, in my pocket, for him. He saw through it, however,

for he lowered his eyelids a little sullenly as his way was, when he was

displeased.

"Well; let us hear it," said he. "What have I done wrong now?"

This would never do. His Royal Highness resembled a mule in this, at

least, that the harder he was pushed, the more he kicked and jibbed. He

must be drawn forward by some kind of a carrot, if he were to be moved.

I made haste to draw out my finest.

"His Holiness is inexpressibly consoled," I said, "by Your Royal

Highness' zeal for religion, and courage too, in that course. He bade me

tell you that he could say his _Nunc Dimittis_, if he could but see such

zeal and obedience in the rest of Europe."

The Duke smiled a little; and I could see that he was pleased. (It was

really necessary to speak to him in this manner; he would have resented

any such freedom or informality as I used towards the King.)

"These are the sweets before the medicine," he said. "And now for the

draught."

"Sir," I said, "there is no draught. There is but a word of warning His

Holiness--"

"Well; call it what you will. What is it, Mr. Mallock?"

I told him then, as gently as I could (interlarding all with a great

many compliments) that His Holiness was anxious that matters should not

go too fast; that there was still a great deal of disaffection in

England, and that, though the pendulum had swung it would surely swing

back again, though, please God! never so far as it had been; and that

meantime a great deal of caution should be used. For example, it was a

wonderful thing that His Royal Highness should be Lord High Admiral of

the Fleet again; but that great care should be observed lest the people

should be frightened that a Papist should have the guarding of them; or

again, that the Test Act should be set aside in His Royal Highness'

case, yet the exception should not be pressed too far. All this my Lord

Cardinal Howard had expressly told me; but there was one yet more

difficult matter to speak of; and this I reserved for the moment.

"Well," said the Duke, when I had got so far, "I am obliged to His

Holiness for his solicitude; and I shall give the advice my closest

attention. Was there anything more, Mr. Mallock?"

He had received it, I thought, with unusual humility; so I made haste to

bring out the last of what I had to say.

"There is no more, Sir," I said, "in substance. There was only that His

Eminence thought perhaps that the extraordinary courage and fervour of

Your Royal Highness' Jesuit advisers led them to neglect discretion a

little."

"Ah! His Eminence thought that, did he?" said James meditatively.

His Eminence had said it a great deal more strongly than that; but I

dared not put it as he had.

"Yes, Sir," I said. "They are largely under French influence; and French

circumstances are not at all as in England. The Society is a little apt

at present--"

Then the Duke lost his self-command; and his heavy face lightened with a

kind of anger.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "you have said enough. I do not blame you at

all; but His Eminence (with all possible respect to him!) does not know

what he is talking about. These good Fathers have imperilled their lives

for England; if any have a right to speak, it is they; and I would

sooner listen to their counsel than to all the Cardinals in Christendom.

They know England, as Rome cannot; and, while I allow myself to be led

by the nose by no man living, I would sooner do what they advise than

what a Roman Cardinal advises. It is not by subtlety or plotting that

the Faith will be commended in this country; but by courageous action;

and since God has placed me here in the position that I hold, it is to

Him alone that I must answer. You can send that message back to Rome,

sir, as soon as you like."

Now there was James, true to himself; and I could see that further words

would be wasted. I smoothed him down as well as I could; and I was happy

to see that it was not with myself that he was angry--(for he made that

very plain)--for that I still might hope he would listen to me later on.

But anything further at that time was useless; so I prepared to take my

leave; and he made no opposition.

"Well, sir," he said, "you have given your message very well; and I

thank you for not wrapping it up. You have done very well in France, I

hear."

"His Majesty hath been pleased to think so," I said. Then his face

lightened again.

"Ah!" said he, "when the time comes, we shall shew Europe what England

can do. We shall astonish even Rome itself, I think. We have long been

without the light; but it is dawning once more, and when the sun is

indeed risen, as His Majesty said, men will be amazed at us. We shall

need no more help from France then. The whole land will be a garden of

the Lord."

His face itself was alight with enthusiasm; and I wondered how, once

more in this man, as in many others, the Church shewed itself able to

inspire and warm, yet without that full moral conversion that she

desires. He was not yet by any means free from the sins of the flesh and

from pride--(which two things so commonly go together)--he could not be

released from these until humiliation should come on him--as it did, and

made him very like a Saint before the end. Meanwhile it was something to

thank God for that he should be so whole-hearted and zealous, even

though he lacked discretion.

As I was going down the stairs whom should I run into, coming up, but

Father Huddleston, who stopped to speak with me. I did not know him very

well; though I had talked with him once or twice. He was the one priest

of English blood who was tolerated openly and legally in England, and

who had leave to wear his habit, for his saving of the King's life after

the battle of Worcester.

"So you are home again, Mr. Mallock," he said in his cheery voice.

I told him Yes; and that I was come for a good time.

"And His Majesty?" he said. "Have you seen him? He is terribly aged, is

he not, this last year."

This priest was a very pleasant-looking fellow, going on for sixty years

old, I would say; and, except for his dress, resembled some fine old

country-squire. He wore a great brown periwig that set off his rosy

face. He was not, I think, a very spiritual man, though good and

conscientious, and he meddled not at all with politics or even with

religion. He went his way, and let men alone, which, though not very

apostolic, is at least very prudent and peaceful. He was fond of country

sports, I had heard, and of the classics; and spent his time pretty

equally in them both.

"Yes," said I; "the King is a year older since this time twelvemonth."

He laughed loudly.

"There speaks the courtier," he said. "And you come from the Duke?"

I told him Yes.

"And I go to him. Well; good day to you, Mr. Mallock."

* * * * *

It was very pleasant to me, this new air in which I lived. Here was I,

come from the Duke who had received me as never before, with a

deference--(if the Duke's behaviour to any man could be called

that)--such as he had never shewn me, being greeted too by this priest

who up to this time had never manifested much interest in me, going back

to my fine lodgings and my half-dozen servants. Indeed it was a great

change. As I went past the sentry a minute or two later, he saluted me,

and I returned it, feeling very happy that I was come to be of some

consideration at last, with do much more, too, in the background of

which others never dreamed.

* * * * *

I had my first audience of His Majesty a week later, and confirmed my

impressions of his ageing very rapidly. He received me with

extraordinary kindness; but, as to the first part of the interview,

since this concerned private affairs in France, I shall give no

description. It was the end only that was of general interest; and one

part of it very particular, since I was able to speak my mind to him

again.

He was standing looking out of the window when he said his last word on

France, and kept silent a little. He stood as upright as ever, but there

was an air in him as if he felt the weight of his years, though they

were scarcely fifty-four in number. His hand nearest to me hung down

listlessly, with the lace over it. When he spoke, he put into words the

very thing that I was thinking.

"I am getting an old man, Mr. Mallock," he said, suddenly turning on me;

"and I would that affairs were better settled than they are. They are

better than they were--I do not dispute that--but these endless little

matters distress me. Why cannot folk be at peace and charitable one with

another?"

I said nothing; but I knew of what he was thinking. It was the old

business of religion which so much entered into everything and distorted

men's judgments: for he had just been speaking of His Grace of Monmouth.

"Why cannot men serve God according to their own conscience?" he said,

"and leave others to do the same."

"Sir," I said, "there is but one Church of God where men are at unity

with one another."

He paid no attention to that; and his face suddenly contracted

strangely.

"Did you hear any gossip--I mean about myself--after the death of the

Jesuit Fathers?"

I told him No; for I had heard nothing of it at that time.

He came and sat down, motioning me too to a seat; for I had stood up

when he did.

"Well," he said, "it is certainly strange enough, and I should not have

believed it, if it had not happened to myself."

Again he stopped with an odd look.

"Well," he said, "here is the tale; and I will swear to it. You know how

unwilling I was to sign the death-warrants."

"Yes, Sir; all the world knows that."

"And all the world knows that I did it," he said with a vehement kind of

bitterness. "Yes; I did it, for there was no way out of it that I could

see. It was they or the Crown must go. But I never intended it; and I

swore I would not."

"Yes, Sir," I said quietly, "you said so to me."

"Did I? Well, I said so to many. I even swore that my right hand might

rot off if I did it."

His heavy face was all working. I had seldom seen him so much moved.

"Yes," he said, "that was what I swore. Well, Mr. Mallock, did you ever

hear what followed?"

"No, Sir," I said again.

"It was within that week, that when I awakened one morning I felt my

right hand to be all stiff. I thought nothing of it at the first; I

believed I must have strained it at tennis. Well; that day I said

nothing to anyone; but I rubbed some ointment on my hand that night."

He stopped again, lifted his right hand a little and looked at it, as if

meditating on it. It was a square strong man's hand, but very well

shaped and very brown; it had a couple of great rings on the fingers.

"Well," he said, "the next morning a sore had broken out on it; and I

sent for a physician. He told me it was nothing but a little humour in

the blood, and he bade me take care of my diet. I said nothing to anyone

else, and bade him not speak of it; and that night I put on some more

ointment; and the next morning another sore was broken out, between the

finger and the thumb, so that I could not hold a pen without pain; and

it was then, for the first time, that I remembered what I had sworn."

He had his features under command again, but I could see, as he looked

at me, that his eyes were still full of emotion.

"Well, Mr. Mallock; I was in a great way at that; but yet I dared tell

nobody. I wore my glove all day, so that no one should see my hand; and

that evening when I went in to see Her Majesty, what should I see

hanging up on the wall of the chamber but the pictures of the five men

whose warrants I had signed!"

Once more he stopped.

Now I remembered that I had heard a little gossip as to the King's hand

about that time; but it had been so little that I had thought nothing of

it. It was very strange to hear it all now from himself.

"Well, sir," he said, "I am not ashamed to say what I did. I kissed

their pictures one by one, and I begged them to intercede for me. The

next morning, Mr. Mallock, the sores were healed up; and, the morning

after, the stiffness was all gone."

I said nothing; for what could I say? It is true enough that many might

say that it had all fallen out so, by chance, that it was no more than a

strain at tennis, or a humour in the blood, as the physician had

thought. But I did not think so, nor, I think, would many Catholics.

"You say nothing, Mr. Mallock," said the King.

"What is there to say, Sir?" asked I.

"What indeed?" he cried, again with the greatest emotion. "There is

nothing at all to say. The facts are as I have said."

Then there came upon me once more that passionate desire to see this

strange and restless soul at peace. Of those who have never received the

gift of faith I say nothing: God will be their Judge, and, I doubt not,

their Saviour if they have but been faithful to what they know; but for

those who have received the knowledge of the truth and have drawn back

from it I have always feared very greatly. Now that His Majesty had

received this light long before this time, I had never had any doubt;

indeed it had been reported, though I knew falsely, that he had

submitted to the Church and been taken into her Communion while he was

yet a young man in France. Yet here he was still, holding back from what

he knew to be true--and growing old too, as he had said. All this went

through my mind; but before I could speak he was up again.

"An instant, Mr. Mallock," he said, as I rose up with him; and he turned

swiftly towards the door that was behind him, and was out through it,

leaving it open behind him. From where I stood I could see what he did.

There was a great press in the little chamber next door, and he flung

the doors of this open so that I could see him pull forward his

strong-box that lay within. This he opened with a key that he carried

hung on a chain, and fumbled in it a minute or two, drawing out at last

a paper; and so, bearing this, and leaving the strong-box open just as

it was, he came back to me.

"Look at that, Mr. Mallock," said he.

It was a sheet of paper, written very closely in His Majesty's own hand,

and was headed in capital letters.

Then there followed a set of reasons, all numbered, shewing that the

Holy Roman Church was none other than the very Church of Christ outside

of which there is no salvation. (It was made public later, as all the

world knows, so I need not set it out here in full.)

"There, sir," he said when I had done reading it. "What do you think of

that?"

I shall never forget how he looked, when I lifted my eyes and regarded

him. He was standing by the window, with the light on his face, and

there was an extraordinary earnestness and purpose in his features. It

was near incredible that this could be the man whom I had seen so

careless with his ladies--so light and indolent. But there are many

sides to every man, as I have learned in a very long life.

"Sir," I cried, "what am I to say? There is nothing that I can add. This

is Your Majesty's own conscience, written out in ink." (I tapped the

paper with my finger, still holding it.)

"Eh?" said he.

"And by conscience God judges us all," I cried. Again I stared into his

eyes, and he into mine.

"Your Majesty will have to answer to this," said I, "on Judgment Day."

I could say no more, so great was my emotion; and, as I hesitated a

change went over his face. His brows came down as if he were angry, but

his lips twitched a little as if in humour.

"There! there!" he said. "Give me the paper, Mr. Mallock."

I gave it back to him; and he stood running his eyes down it.

"Why, this is damned good!" he murmured. "I should have made a

theologian."

And with that I knew that his mood was changed again, and that I could

say no more.

CHAPTER III

I do not know which is the more strange that, when a great time of trial

approaches a man, either he has some kind of a premonition that trouble

is coming upon him, or that he has not. Certainly it is strange enough

that some sense, of which we know nothing, should scent danger when

there are no outward signs that any is near; but it appears even more

strange to me that the storm should break all of a sudden without any

cloud in the sky to shew its coming. It was the latter case with me; and

the storm came upon me as I shall now relate.

* * * * *

It was now for the first time that I began to see something of the way

the Court lived--I mean as one who was himself a part of it. I had

looked on it before rather as a spectator at a show, observing the

pageants pass before me, but myself, from the nature of my employment,

taking no part in it from within.

A great deal that I saw was very dreadful and unchristian. Many of the

persons resembled hogs and monkeys more than human beings; and a great

deal of what passed for wit and merriment was nothing other than pure

evil. Virtue was very little reckoned of; or, rather reckoned only as

giving additional zest to its own corruption. I do not mean that there

were no virtuous people at all--(there were virtuous people in Sodom and

Gomorrah themselves)--but they were unusual, and were looked upon as a

little freakish or mad. Yet, for all that, side by side with the evil,

there went on a great deal of seemliness and religion: sermons were

preached before the Court every Sunday; and His Majesty, who by his own

life was greatly responsible for the wickedness around him, went to

morning-prayers at least three or four times in the week; though I

cannot say that his behaviour there accorded very well with the business

he was engaged upon. Some blamed the Bishops and other ministers for

their laxity and the flattery that they shewed to His Majesty: but I do

not think that charge is a fair one; for they were very bold indeed upon

occasion. Dr. Ken, who preached pretty often, was as outspoken as a

preacher well could be, denouncing the sins of the Court in unmeasured

language, even in His Majesty's presence: and a certain Bishop, whose

name I forget, observing on one occasion during sermon-time that the

King was fast asleep, turned and rebuked in a loud voice some other

gentleman who was asleep too.

"You snore so loudly, sir," he cried, "that you will awake His Majesty,

if you do not have a care."

I went sometimes to the chapel, with the crowd, to hear the anthem, as

the custom was; for the music was extraordinary good, and no expense

spared; and I heard there some very fine motets, the most of which were

adapted from the old Catholic music and set to new words taken from the

Protestant Scripture.

* * * * *

I went one night in August to the Duke's Theatre, as it was called, to

see a play of Sir Charles Sedley, called _The Mulberry Garden_.

This extraordinary man, with whom I had already talked on more than one

occasion, was, according to one account, the loosest man that ever

lived; and indeed the tales related of him are such that I could not

even hint at them in such a work as this. But he was now about

forty-five years old; and a thought steadier. It chanced that he and my

Lord Dorset--(who was of the same reputation, but had fought too both by

land and sea)--were present with ladies, of whom the Duchess of

Cleveland was one, in one of the boxes that looked upon the stage; and I

was astonished at the behaviour of them all. Sedley himself, who

appeared pretty drunk, was the noisiest person in the house; he laughed

loudly at any of his own lines that took his fancy, and conversed

equally loudly with his friends when they did not. As for the play it

was of a very poor kind, and gave me no pleasure at all; for there was

but one subject in it from beginning to end, and that was the passion

which the author would call love. There were lines too in it of the

greatest coarseness, and at these he laughed the loudest. He had a sharp

bold face, of an extraordinary insolence; and he appeared to take the

highest delight in the theme of his play--(which he had written for the

King's Theatre a good while before)--and which concerned nothing else

but the love-adventures of two maids that had an over-youthful fop for a

father.

When the play was over, and I going out to my little coach that I used,

I found that the Duchess of Cleveland's coach stopped the way, in spite

of the others waiting behind, and Her Grace not come. However there was

nothing to be done: and I waited. Presently out they came, Sedley

leading the way with great solemnity, who knocked against me as I stood

there, and asked what the devil I did in his road.

I saluted them as ironically as I could; and begged his pardon.

"I had no idea, Sir Charles," said I, "that the theatre and street were

yours as well as the play."

He looked at me as if he could not believe his ears; but my Lord Dorset

who was just behind came up and took him by the arm.

"He is right," he said. "Mr. Mallock is quite right. Beg his pardon, I

tell you."

"Why the devil--" began Sir Charles again, still not recognizing me.

My Lord clapped him sharply on his hat, driving it over his eyes.

"He is blind now, Mr. Mallock," he said, "in every sense. You would not

be angry with a blind man!"

When Sir Charles had got his hat straight again he was now angry with my

Lord Dorset, and very friendly and apologetic to myself, whom I suppose

he had remembered by now; so the two drove away presently, after the

ladies, still disputing loudly. But I think my Lord's behaviour shewed

me more than ever that I was become a person of some consequence. Yet

this kind of manners, in the midst of the crowd, though it commended

gentlemen as well known as were those two--to the ruder elements among

the spectators, who laughed and shouted--did a great deal of harm in

those days to the Court and the King, among the more serious and sober

persons of the country; and it is these who, in the long run, always

have the ordering of things. God knows I would not live in a puritanical

country if I could help it; yet decent breeding is surely due from

gentlemen.

* * * * *

A week or two later I was at a _levée_ in Her Majesty's apartments; and

had a clearer sight than ever of the relations between the King and

Queen.

Now His Majesty had behaved himself very ill to the Queen; he had

flaunted his mistresses everywhere, and had even compelled her to

receive them; he had neglected her very grossly; yet I must say in his

defence that there was one line he would not pass: he would not on any

account listen to those advisers of his who from time to time had urged

him to put her away by divorce, and marry a Protestant who might bear

him children. Even my Lord Bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Burnet, had,

thirteen or fourteen years ago given as his opinion that a barren wife

might be divorced, and even that polygamy was not contrary to the New

Testament! This, however, Charles had flatly refused to countenance;

and, when he thought of it, now and again, shewed her a sort of

compassionate kindness, in spite of his distaste for her company. Yet

his very compassionateness proved his distaste.

It was on occasion of a reception by Her Majesty of some Moorish

deputation or embassage from Tangier, that I was present in her

apartments; and it was immediately after this, too--(so that I have good

cause to remember it)--that the first completely unexpected reverse came

to my fortunes.

I arrived at Her Majesty's lodgings about nine o'clock in the evening;

and was pleased to see that the Yeomen of the Guard lined the staircase

up to the great gallery. This was an honour which the Queen did not very

often enjoy; and very fine they looked in their scarlet and gold, with

their halberds, all the way up from the bottom to the top.

The Great Gallery, when I came into it, was tolerably full of people,

of whom I spoke to a good number, among whom again were Sir Charles

Sedley and my Lord Dorset, as usual inseparable. But I was very much

astonished at the manner in which the Moors were treated, for they were

seated on couches, on one side of the state under which Her Majesty sat,

as if they were some kind of raree-show, set there to be looked at. They

were extraordinary rich and barbaric in their appearance; and when I had

kissed Her Majesty's hand, I too went and looked with the rest of the

crowd who jostled all together to stare at them. They were in very

gorgeous silks, and wore turbans; and their jewels were beyond anything

that I had ever seen--great uncut emeralds, and red stones of which I

did not know the name, and ropes of pearls. The folks about me bore

themselves with an amazing insolence, regarding them as if they had been

monsters, and freely making comments on them which their interpreter, at

least, must have understood. The Moors themselves behaved with great

dignity; and it was impossible not to reflect that these shewed a far

higher degree of dignity and civilization than did my own countrymen.

They were very dark-skinned, and three or four of them of a wonderful

handsomeness. They sat there almost in silence, looking gravely at the

crowd, and observing, I thought, with surprise the bare shoulders and

bosoms of the ladies who stared and screamed as much as any. It appeared

to me that these poor Moors, too, thought that the civilization lay

principally upon their own side. I presently felt ashamed of myself for

looking at them; and turned away.

* * * * *

The gallery and the antechambers had some fine furniture in them, pushed

against the walls that the crowd might circulate; but all was not near

so fine as the Duchess of Portsmouth's apartments, nor even as the

King's. The cressets, I saw, most of them, were of brass, not silver;

the brocades, which were Portuguese, were a little faded here and there;

and there was not near the show of gold and silver plate that I had

expected. But of all the sights there, I think Her Majesty was the most

melancholy. She was dressed very splendid; and her skirt was so stiff

with bullion that it scarce fell in folds at all. Her pearls were

magnificent, but too many of them; for her _coiffure_ was full of them.

She resembled, to my mind, a sorrowful child dressed up for a play. Her

complexion was very dark and faded, though her features were

well-formed, all except her mouth. She was a little like a very pretty

monkey, if such a thing can be conceived. She sat under her state, with

an empty chair beside her--very upright, with the Countess of Suffolk

and her other ladies round about her and behind her. She appeared

altogether ill at ease, and eyed continually down the length of the

gallery along which His Majesty would come, if indeed he came at all;

for he had a way of sending a sudden message that he could not; and all

the world knew where he would be instead.

To-night, however, he kept his word and came.

I was in one of the antechambers at the time, talking to a couple of

gentlemen and to one of the Queen's Portuguese chaplains who knew a

little Italian, when I heard the music playing, and ran out in time to

see him go past from the way that led from his own lodgings. He seemed

in a very merry mood this evening, and was smiling as he walked, very

fast, as usual. He was in a dark yellow and gold brocade that set off

the darkness of his complexion wonderful well, and a dark brown periwig

with his hat upon it; and he wore his Garter and Star. The crowd closed

in behind his gentlemen so that I could not get near him; and when I

came up he was on his chair by Her Majesty, and she smiling and

tremulous with happiness, and the Moors coming up one by one to kiss his

hand.

I could not hear very well what the interpreter was saying, when all

this was done; but I heard him speak of a gift of thirty ostriches that

this Moorish mission had brought as a gift to him.

His Majesty laughed loud when he heard that.

"I can send nothing more proper back again," said he, "than a flock of

geese. I have enough and to spare of them."

Then, when all about were laughing, he turned very solemn. "You had best

not tell them that," he said; "or they might take some of my friends

away with them in mistake."

(This was pretty fooling; but it scarce struck me as suited to the

dignity of the occasion.)

Presently the interpreter was saying how consumed with loyal envy were

these Moors at all the splendour that they saw about them.

"It is better to be envied than pitied," observed His Majesty, with a

very serious look.

* * * * *

At first be bore himself with extraordinary geniality this evening. He

had been drinking a little, I think, yet not at all to excess, for this

he never did, though he had no objection to others doing so in his

company. There was related of him, I remember, how the Lord Mayor once,

after a City Banquet, pressed His Majesty very unduly to remain a little

longer after he had risen up to go. His Majesty was already at the door

when the Mayor did this, even venturing--(for he was pretty far gone in

wine)--to lay his fingers on the King's arm.

His Majesty looked at him for an instant, and then burst out laughing.

"Ah well!" he said, quoting the old song, "'He that is drunk is as great

as a King.'"

And he went back and drank another bottle.

* * * * *

He was in that merry kind of mood, then, this evening: but such moods

have their reactions; and half an hour later he was beginning first to

yawn behind his hand and then to wear a heavy look on his face. Her

Majesty observed it, too, as I could see: for she fell silent (which was

the worst thing in the world to do), and began to eye him sidelong with

a kind of dismay. (It was wonderful how little knowledge she had of how

to manage him; and how she shewed to all present what she was feeling.)

Presently he was paying no more attention to her at all, but was leaning

back in his chair, listening to my Lord Dorset who was talking in his

ear; and nodding and smiling rather heavily sometimes. I felt very sorry

for the Queen; but I had best have been feeling sorry for myself, for it

was now, that, all unknown to me, a design was maturing against me,

though not from my Lord Dorset.

As I was about to turn away, to go once more through the rooms before

taking my leave, I observed Mr. Chiffinch coming through very fast from

the direction of the King's apartments, as if he had some message. He

did not observe me, as I was within the crowd; but I saw him go up,

threading his way as well as he could, and touching one or two to make

them move out of his way, straight up to the King's side of the state. I

thought he would pause then; but he did not. He put his hand on my Lord

Dorset's shoulder from behind, and made him give way; and then he took

his place and began to whisper to His Majesty. I saw His Majesty frown

once or twice, as if he were displeased, and then glance quickly up at

the faces before him, and down again, as if he looked to see if someone

were there. But I did not know that it was for me that he looked. Then

the King nodded thrice, sharply--Mr. Chiffinch whispering all the

while--and then he leaned over and whispered to the Queen. Then both of

them stood up, the King looking heavier than ever, and the Queen very

near fit to cry, and both came down front the dais together, all the

company saluting them and making way. And so they went down the gallery

together.

I was still staring after him, wondering what was the matter, when I

felt myself touched, and turned to find Mr. Chiffinch at my elbow. He

looked very serious.

"Come this way, sir," said he. "I must speak with you instantly."

I went after him, down the gallery; and he led me into the little empty

chamber where I had been talking with the priest half an hour ago. He

closed the door carefully behind him; and turned to me again.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "I have very serious news for you."

"Yes," said I, never dreaming what the matter was.

"It touches yourself very closely," he said, searching my face with his

eyes.

"Well; what is it?" asked I--my heart beginning to beat a little.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, very gravely, "there is an order for your

arrest. If you will come back with me quietly to my lodgings we can

effect all that is necessary without scandal."

CHAPTER IV

I said never a word as we went back, first downstairs between the

Yeomen, then to the right, and so round through the little familiar

passage and up the stairs. I could hear the tramp of guards behind, and

knew that they had followed us from the Queen's lodgings and would be at

the doors after we were within. I was completely stunned, except, I

think, for a little glimmer of sense still left which told me that the

least said in any public place, the better. Mr. Chiffinch, too, I could

see very well, was as bewildered as myself--for, so far as I was

concerned, there was not yet the faintest suspicion in my mind as to

what was the matter. At least, I told myself, my conscience was clear.

So soon as we were within the closet, the page, having again shut the

door carefully behind me came forward to where I stood.

"Sit down, Mr. Mallock," said he, in a low voice, but very kindly.

I could see that his face was very pale and that he seemed greatly

agitated. When I was seated, he sat himself down at his table a little

way off.

"This is a terrible affair," he said, "and I do not know--"

"For God's sake," I whispered suddenly, "tell me what I am charged

with."

He looked up at me sharply.

"You do not know, Mr. Mallock?"

"Before God," I said, "I have no more idea what the pother is about

than--"

"Well, shortly," he said, "it is treason."

"Treason! Why--"

He leaned forward and took up a pen, to play with as be talked.

"I will tell you the whole thing from the beginning," he said. "You

must have patience. An hour ago a clerk came to me here from the Board

of the Green Cloth to tell me that the magistrates desired my presence

there immediately on a matter of the highest importance. I went there

directly and found three or four of them there, with Sir George Jeffreys

whom they had sent for, it seemed, as they did not know what course to

pursue, and had thought perhaps that I might throw some light upon it.

They were very grave indeed, and presently mentioned your name, saying

that a charge had been laid against you before one of the Westminster

magistrates, of having been privy to the Ryehouse Plot."

"Why--" cried I, with sudden relief.

He held up his hand.

"Wait," he said, "I too laughed when I heard that; and gave them to

understand on what side you had been throughout that matter, and how you

had been in His Majesty's service and that I myself was privy to every

detail of the affair. They looked more easy at that; and I thought that

all was over. But they asked me to look at papers they had of yours--"

"Papers! Of mine!" I cried.

"Yes, Mr. Mallock. Papers of yours. I will tell you presently how they

came by them. Well; there were about a dozen, I suppose, altogether; and

some of them I knew all about, and said so. These were notes and reports

that you had shewed to me: and there were three or four more which,

though I had not seen them I could answer for. But there was one, Mr.

Mallock, that I could not understand at all."

He paused and looked at me; and I could see that he was uneasy.

Now it may appear incredible; but even then I could not think of what

paper he meant. To the best of my belief I had shewn him everything that

I thought to be of the least importance--notes and reports, as he had

said, such as was that which I had made in the wherry on my way up from

Wapping one night.

I shook my head.

"I do not know what you mean," I said. "Where did they get the papers

from?"

"Think again, Mr. Mallock. I said it was on a charge of treason just

now. Well: I will say now that it may be no more than misprision of

treason."

Still I had no suspicion. I was thinking still, I suppose, of my

lodgings here in Whitehall and of a few papers I had there.

"You must tell me," I said.

"Mr. Mallock," he said, "this paper I speak of was in cypher. It

contained--"

"Lord!" I cried. "Cousin Tom!--"

Then I bit my lip; but it was too late.

"Yes," said the other, very gravely. "I can see that you remember. It

was your cousin who brought them up from Hare Street. He found them all

in a little hiding-hole: and conceived it to be his duty--"

"His duty!" I cried. "Good God! why--"

Then again I checked myself.

"Mr. Chiffinch," said I, "I remember the paper perfectly: at least I

remember that I had it, though I have never read it or thought anything

of it."

"It is in very easy cypher, sir," said he, with some severity.

"Well; it was too hard for me," I said.

"Then why did you not shew it to me?" he asked.

"Lord! man," I said, "I tell you it was gone clean from my memory. I got

it from Rumbald a great while ago--a year or two at the least before the

Plot. It was on my mind to send it to you; but I did not. I had no idea

that it was of the least importance."

"A letter, in cypher, and from Rumbald! And you thought it of no

importance--even though the names of my Lord Shaftesbury and half a

dozen others are written in full!"

"I tell you I forgot it," I said sullenly, for I had not looked for

suspicion from this man.

He still looked at me, as if searching my face: and I suppose that I

presented the very picture of an unmasked villain; for the whole affair

was so surprising and unexpected that I was completely taken aback.

"Well," he said, "if you had but shewn me that paper, we could have

forestalled the whole affair."

"What was in it?" I asked, striving to control myself.

"You tell me you do not know?" he asked.

Then indeed I lost control of myself. I stood up.

"Mr. Chiffinch," I said, "I see that you do not believe a word that I

say. It will be best if you take me straight to those who have authority

to question me."

He did not move.

"You had best sit down again, Mr. Mallock. I do not say that I do not

believe you. But I will allow that I do not know what to think. You are

a very shrewd man, sir; and it truly is beyond my understanding that you

should have forgotten so completely this most vital matter. I wish to be

your friend; but I confess I do not understand. Oh! sit down, man!" he

cried suddenly. "Do not playact with me. Just answer my questions."

I sat down again. I saw that he was sincere and that indeed he was

puzzled; and my anger went.

"Well," I said, "I suppose it may be difficult. Let me tell you the

whole affair."

So I told him. I related the whole of my adventure in the inn, and how I

got the paper, and tried to read it, and could not: then, how I took it

to Hare Street and put it where he had described: then how I very nearly

had asked a Jesuit priest if he had any skill in cypher; and then how,

once more, it had all slipped my mind, and that, a long time having

elapsed, even when Rumbald became prominent again, even then I had not

remembered it.

"That is absolutely the whole tale," I said; "and I know no more than

the dead what it is all about. What is it all about, Mr. Chiffinch?"

He drew a breath and then expelled it again, and, at the same time stood

up, withdrawing his eyes from my face. I think it was then for the first

time that he put away his doubts; for I had got my wits back again and

could talk reasonably.

"Well," he said, "we had best be off at once, and see what they say."

"Where to?" asked I.

"Why to His Majesty's lodgings," he said. "I fetched him out to tell

him. Did you not see me?"

"His Majesty!" I cried.

"Why yes; I thought it best. Else it would have meant your arrest, Mr.

Mallock."

* * * * *

I must confess that my uneasiness came back--(which had left me just

now)--as I went with the page to the King's lodgings, more especially

when I saw again how the guards fell in behind us and followed us every

step of the way. It was very well to say that I "should have been

arrested" if such and such a thing had not happened: the truth was, I

was already under arrest, as I should soon have found if I had attempted

to run away. It seemed to me somewhat portentous too that His Majesty

was so ready to see us, instead of mocking at the whole tale at once.

Mr. Chiffinch said nothing to me as we went. I think he himself was

fully convinced of my innocence--at least of any deliberate

treachery--but not so convinced that others would be; and that he was

considering how he should put my case. It was a sad humiliation for

me--this trudging along like a schoolboy going to be whipped, with a

couple of guards following to see that I did not evade it.

We went straight upstairs, through the antechamber, and to the door of

the private closet. I heard voices talking there--one of which cried to

come in as the page knocked. Then we entered.

I had thought to find His Majesty alone, or very nearly so; and I was

astonished and disconcerted at the number of persons that were there.

The King himself was seated beyond his great table, with the rest

standing about him, five in number. On his right was Sir George Jeffreys

in his rich suit, just as he had come from some entertainment, his

handsome face flushed with wine, yet none the less full of wit and

attention. The officer of the Green Cloth was on the other side--(it was

this gentleman's business to deal with all cases, within his

jurisdiction, that took their rise in Whitehall itself); and a couple of

magistrates beside him, with neither of whom I had any acquaintance. An

officer, whose face again was new to me--named Colonel Hoskyns--a

truculent-looking fellow, in the dress of His Majesty's Lifeguards,

stood very upright beside Sir George Jeffreys, with his hat in his hand.

A sheaf of papers lay before the King on the table.

I was even more disconcerted to see how His Majesty looked. An hour or

two ago he had been smiling and gracious: now he wore a very stern look

on his face; he made no sign of recognition as I came in after Mr.

Chiffinch, but, so soon as the door was shut, spoke immediately to the

page.

"Well?" he said. "What have you got from him?"

Chiffinch advanced a step nearer, glancing at the faces that all looked

on him.

"Sir," he said, "I am convinced there has been nothing more than an

indiscretion--"

Then the King shewed how angry he was. He threw himself back in his

chair.

"Bah!" he cried--"an indiscretion indeed! With his guilt staring him

in the face!"

There was a murmur from the others: and Colonel Hoskyns gave me a look

of very high disdain, as if I had been a toad or a serpent. For myself I

said nothing: I remained with my eyes down. Once or twice before I had

seen His Majesty in this very mood. For the most part he was the least

suspicious man I had ever encountered; but once his suspicion was awake

there was none harder to persuade. So he had been with His Grace of

Monmouth on two or three occasions; so, it appeared, he was to be with

me now.

"Sir," said Mr. Chiffinch again, "I have examined Mr. Mallock very

closely: but I have told him very little. Will Your Majesty allow him

to hear what the case is against him?"

The King, who was frowning and pursing his lips, raised his eyes; and

immediately I dropped my own. He was in a black mood indeed, and all the

blacker for his past kindness to me.

"Tell him, Hoskyns," he said; and then, before the Colonel could speak

he addressed me directly.

"Mr. Mallock," he said sharply, "I will tell you plainly why I have you

here, and why you are not in ward. You have been of service to me; I do

not deny that. And I have never known you yet to betray your trust.

Well, then, I do not wish to disgrace you publicly without allowing you

an opportunity of speaking and clearing yourself if that is possible. I

tell you frankly, I do not think you will. I see no loophole anywhere.

But--well there it is. Tell him, Hoskyns."

I will not deny that I was terrified. This was so wholly unlike all I

had ever known of His Majesty. What in the world could be the case

against me? (For I now saw that Mr. Chiffinch had not told me the whole,

but only a part of the charge.) I fixed my eyes upon Mr. Hoskyns for

whom I had conceived, so soon as I had set eyes on him, an extreme

repulsion.

He made a kind of apologetic cringing movement towards the papers. The

King made no movement, but rested heavily in his chair, with his hat

forward, his elbows on the arms of his chair and his fingers knit

beneath his chin. The Colonel took the papers up, shuffled them for a

minute, and then began. There was an extraordinary malice in his manner

which I could not understand.

"The charge against the--the gentleman--whose name, I understand, is

Roger Mallock, consists of two distinct points:

"The first is that he has received and concealed a paper, containing an

account of a debate held between certain of His Majesty's enemies, five

years ago, in November of sixteen hundred and seventy-nine, with the

list of the persons present and the votes that they gave as regards

compassing the King's death. The first point to which Mr. Mallock has to

answer is, How he came to be in possession of this paper at all?"

I made a movement to speak, as his voice ceased; but the King held up

his hand. Then, as if by an afterthought he dropped it again.

"Well; speak if you like--point by point. But I would recommend you to

hear it all first."

"Sir," I said, "I have no reserves, and nothing to conceal. I will

answer point by point if Your Majesty will give me leave."

He said nothing. I turned back to the other.

"Well, sir," I said, "I had that paper from one Rumbald, in a private

parlour in the _Mitre_ inn, without Aldgate. He gave it me with some

others, and forgot to ask for it again."

No one moved a finger or a feature, except the Colonel, who glanced at

me, and then down again.

"The second point is, Why Mr. Mallock did not hand over the paper to the

proper authorities." Again he paused.

"It was in cypher," said I, "and I could not read it."

"Then why did you preserve it so carefully, sir?" asked the Colonel

angrily, speaking direct to me for the first time.

"I preserved it because it might be of interest, seeing from whom I

received it."

"You preserved it then, because it might be of interest; and you did not

hand it over because it might not," sneered the Colonel.

"Come! come!" said the King sharply. "We must have a better answer than

that, Mr. Mallock."

Then my heart blazed at the injustice.

"Sir," I said, "I am telling the naked truth. If I were a liar and a

knave I could make up a very plausible tale, no doubt. But I am not. The

naked truth is that I preserved the paper for what it might contain; and

then--"

I paused then; for I saw plainly what a very poor defence I had.

"And then--" sneered the Colonel softly.

"If you must have the truth," I said, "I forgot all about it."

Well; it was as I thought. Sir George Jeffreys threw back his head and

laughed aloud--(he was a man of extraordinary freedom with the King)--a

great grin appeared on the Colonel's face; and His Majesty, as I saw in

the shadow beneath his hat, smiled bitterly, showing his white teeth.

Even the magistrates chuckled together.

"Ah, sir," said Jeffreys, "for a clever man that is truly a little dull.

You might have done better than that."

Then desperation seized me; and I flung all prudence to the winds.

"I thought you wanted the truth," said I. "I will lie if you drive me

much further. Go on, sir," I cried to Hoskyns. "Let us have the rest."

The King stared at me, and his face was terrible.

"A word more like that in my presence, sir--"

"Sir," I cried, "I mean no disrespect. But I am hard put to it--"

"You are indeed," said Jeffreys. "Go on, Colonel Hoskyns."

The Colonel sniffled through his nose, lifting his papers once more.

"The next main charge against Mr. Mallock is even more grave. It is to

the effect that when His Majesty and His Royal Highness were together at

Newmarket, Mr. Mallock, knowing that there was a plot against their

lives--of which the Rye was the centre--despatched a messenger to His

Majesty bidding him come immediately, by the road that leads past the

Rye, instead of directing him by Royston."

At that monstrous charge my spirit almost went from me. That it should

be this thing, above all others that should be brought against me! I

glanced this way and that; and saw how even Chiffinch, who had fallen

back a little as I advanced, was looking askance at me!

"That is perfectly true," I said. "What of it?"

"Mr. Mallock does not seem to perceive," snarled the Colonel, "that the

fact itself is enough. It is true that no harm came of it; but Mr.

Mallock will scarcely deny that an armed man stood by him, waiting for

the coach."

"Armed with a cleaver," said I, "which he presently flung at my head."

"So Mr. Mallock says," observed the Colonel.

"You say I am a liar?" I cried.

The King struck suddenly upon the table.

"Silence, sir!" he said. "Mr. Chiffinch, you told me before that you had

something to say. You had best say it now."

I fell back, for I saw that my bolt was shot. If Chiffinch could not

save me, no man could. It was gone clean beyond mere misprision of

treason now: I saw that plain enough.

Then Mr. Chiffinch began; and I am bound to say that he shewed himself a

better pleader than myself. I thanked God, as he spoke, that I had

treated him with patience just now in his lodgings.

First, he remarked that I had been in His Majesty's service now for near

six years, and that in all that time I had proved myself loyal and

faithful. Then he proceeded to deal with the charges.

First, he said that the very weakness of my excuse with regard to the

paper was my strength. If I were indeed the villain that I seemed, why

in God's name had I not destroyed the paper? I had had near five years

to do it in! Was not that an additional sign that I had, as I said,

merely forgotten it? (As be said this I marvelled that I had not thought

of that answer myself.) It was true that the paper was of the highest

importance, but, as my story stood, I had not known that. Should not my

word then be taken, considering all the other services I had done to His

Majesty?

With regard to the second point, first let them divest their minds of

any prejudice caused by the first; for the first was not proved. Having

done that, it was necessary to remember how carefully I had reported

every movement of the King's enemies to himself--Mr. Chiffinch. It was

true that there had been found other papers in the hiding-hole which he

himself had not seen, but he had at least known the substance of

them--except of course of the cypher of which he had already treated.

With regard to the affair at the Rye it was necessary to remember that

my policy throughout had been to report all that I had learned and to

interpret it as directly contrary to the truth; and that this policy had

proved successful. (I saw the Colonel give a very odd look as this was

said; and I saw that Mr. Chiffinch had seen it too.) At the worst it had

been an error of judgment on my part that I had recommended the road by

the Rye; but it was an error that had had no bad consequences; and to

have recommended it was only in accordance with all my policy of taking

as true the precise opposite to all that the conspirators had told me.

So far as my policy was sound, all that I knew was that the Rye road

would be safe on that one day; of the Royston road I knew little or

nothing. As regards the incident of the cleaver, I had spoken of that to

him immediately I returned to town; and, surely, it was true that a

single man with a cleaver could do very little damage to a galloping

coach. In short, though the evidence might be interpreted as against

me--(here he shot a look at the Colonel)--it might also be interpreted

for me, and, that this was the fairer interpretation, he pleaded my

record of other services done to the King.

When he ended, there was a dead silence; and I think I knew even at that

moment that the worst at any rate had been averted. But I was not sure:

and I waited.

* * * * *

Sir George Jeffreys was the first to move. He had remained motionless,

smiling a little, while the page had been speaking, watching him as a

man may watch an actor who pleases him. At the end, after a little

pause, he jerked his head a little, as if to throw off the situation. I

think he had had no malice to me, but had watched the whole affair as a

kind of sport, which was what he did upon the Bench too. He made a

movement as if to move away, but remembered where he was, and stood

still.

The two magistrates began to move also; and one nodded at the other.

Colonel Hoskyns shook his head sharply, and began to speak.

"Sir-" he began in his harsh voice.

The King held up his hand; and all was dead still again.

It was strange to me to watch the King, or rather to shoot a glance at

him now and again; for I saw presently, in spite of the shadow of his

hat and his dusky face, that he was looking from one to the other of us,

as if appraising what had been said. I heard a fellow cough somewhere,

not in the chamber, and knew by that that it was the guards, most

likely, who were waiting for the verdict. Truly, during those moments

all my confidence left me again; for this was a mood of the King that I

never understood and had never seen so clearly as I saw it now. It was a

sort of heaviness of mind, I think, that fell on him sometimes and

obscured his clear wit, for to my mind nothing could be more plain than

Mr. Chiffinch's argument. Yet I depended now, not only for my liberty,

but for my very life, on the King's judgment. As a Catholic and a member

of the secret service I could look for no hope at all if I were sent for

trial. I looked at Mr. Ramsden, the Officer of the Green Cloth; for I

had scarcely noticed him before, so quiet was he. It was through his

hands first, I supposed, that the case would pass. He was still

motionless, looking down upon the table.

Then the King spoke, not moving at all.

"Go into the antechamber, Mr. Mallock," he said dully, "and wait there

till you be sent for."

* * * * *

I suppose that that waiting was the hardest I have ever done. Again my

suspense came down on me, and I had no idea as to which way the matter

would go. I sat very still there, hearing again one of the men hemming

without the door on the one side: and very low voices talking in the

chamber I had come from.

Then all of a sudden the door opened sharply, and Mr. Chiffinch came

through. He smiled and nodded, though a little doubtfully, as he came

through; and my heart gave a great leap, for I knew that the worst

would not happen to me.

He said nothing, but beckoned me to follow, and we went straight through

to where the guards wailed.

"You can go," he said; "this gentleman is no longer under arrest."

Still, all the way as we went, he said nothing; neither did I. He said

nothing at all till we were back again in his closet, and the door shut.

Then he faced me, smiling.

"Well, Mr. Mallock," he said, "His Majesty has determined to do nothing.

You may even keep your lodgings for the present; but you will be

watched, I need not tell you, very closely indeed: and you must expect

no more employment for a while."

"But--"

"Wait," said he. "That black mood is on His Majesty; and you are very

fortunate indeed to have come out of it so well. It was a very clever

little design--"

"Design!" cried I.

"Why, of course," he said. "Did you not see that? I should have thought

anyone--"

"Design," I said again. "Of whom? And why?"

He smiled.

"You are a very innocent young gentleman," he said, "in spite of your

dexterity. Of course it was a design; and it nearly deceived even

me--"

"My Cousin Tom--" I began.

"Your Cousin Tom is an ass," he said, "a malicious one, no doubt; but a

mere tool. I have no doubt he intended to injure you; but he could have

done nothing if he had not met with the right man. I have no doubt that

he came up with the papers, and gossiped in the coffee-houses till he

met other of your enemies: and they have done the rest. But it was

Colonel Hoskyns no doubt who manipulated the affair."

"Colonel Hoskyns!" I said. "Why, I have never set eyes on the man

before."

"I daresay not," said the page, still smiling. "But I have had his name

in my books for a great while."

"Who is he?" I cried. "And what reason had he--"

Mr. Chiffinch shook his head at me lamentably.

"Why he is one of the party," he said, "though I can get no evidence

that would hang a cat. I have no doubt whatever that he has been in the

whole Shaftesbury affair from the beginning, and knows that they made

shipwreck principally upon yourself. It is sheer revenge now, no doubt;

for they cannot hope to make any further attempts upon His Majesty."

"But he is in the Guards!" I said, all in amazement.

The page shrugged his shoulders.

"What would you have?" he said. "I can get no evidence, even to warn His

Majesty, though I have told him what I think. And, to tell the truth, I

believe His Majesty to be safe enough. But that does not hinder them

from wishing to have their revenge. Mr. Mallock--"

"Yes," I said, still all bewildered.

"I wonder what he will attempt next," said Mr. Chiffinch.

CHAPTER V

The dreariness of the time that followed is beyond my power of

description. I besought Mr. Chiffinch to let me go abroad again, but he

forbade me very emphatically; and I owed so much to him that I could not

find it in my heart to disobey. For so desperate was I, at the ruin of

all my hopes, that the thought even came to me that I would go back and

try to be a monk again; for how, thought I, can I keep my word even to

Dolly herself? Every prospect I had was ruined; my coronet was gone like

the dream which it had always been; I had failed lamentably and

hopelessly; and it was through her father's treachery and malice that

all had come about. This I felt in my heaviest moods; but Mr. Chiffinch

would hear none of it. He said that it was but a question of time, and

His Majesty would come round once more; that he would never be content

until I was reinstated; that he had not for an instant lost heart.

Besides, he said, I was of use in another way, and that was to make

Hoskyns disclose himself. Hoskyns would never rest, he said, till he had

made at least one more attempt upon me; and next time, he hoped, he

would catch him at it, and get rid of the fellow once and for all.

Neither could I even go to Hare Street; for how could I live again even

for an hour in the house of my Cousin who had betrayed me? I could not

even tell Dolly all that had fallen; for I was as sure as of anything in

the world that her father would tell her nothing, and I did not have the

heart to disgrace him in her eyes. I but wrote to her that I was a

little out of favour with His Majesty at present, though I kept my

lodgings, and that I must not stir from Court till I had regained my

position. Meanwhile I reserved what I had to say to my Cousin Tom, until

I should meet with him alone. I had no doubt whatever that he had done

what he had, thinking to get rid of me as his daughter's lover.

The time dragged then very heavily; for I did not care to go much into

the society of others, and had nowhere else to go, since I must not

leave Whitehall; for it soon became known that I was out of favour,

though I do not suppose that the reason was ever named. I spent my days

principally in my own lodgings, and did a good deal of private work for

Mr. Chiffinch, which occupied me. I went to the play sometimes, taking

my man James with me; and I rode out with him usually, down Chelsea way,

or to the north, coming back for dinner or supper. I never went alone,

by Mr. Chiffinch's urgent desire.

* * * * *

It was after Christmas that matters were brought to a head, and that the

last great adventures of my life came about that closed all that I

thought to be life at that time. Even now, so many years after, I can

scarce bear to write them down, though, as I look back upon them now,

there were at least two matters for which I should have thanked God even

then. I thank Him now.

* * * * *

It was on the last Thursday but one, in January, to be precise, that I

was coming back from a ride, having been down the river-bank past

Chelsea, where I had seen, I remember, Winchester House--that great

place with all its courts--and my Lord Bishop returning in his coach: I

do not remember anything else that I saw, for I was very heavy indeed

and more than ever determined that, if matters did not mend very soon, I

would be off to France (where, six months later, I should be obliged to

go in any case when my estates would come to me), if not to Rome. It was

near five months now that I had lived in disgrace, His Majesty not

speaking to me above three or four times all that while, and then only

to avoid incivility.

I could not understand why it was that he behaved so to me. He must know

by now, surely, that I had never been anything but faithful to him; and

I strove to put away the thought that it was mere caprice, and that he

often behaved so to others. But I am afraid that such was the case.

There were plenty of folks at Court, or who had left it, who had once

been in high favour and had ceased to be, through no fault of their own.

Neither would I seek consolation from any other source. The Duke was

civil to me whenever we met, and I suppose he knew that I was in

trouble, but he never spoke of it. Indeed it was a sad change from the

time when I had returned so joyfully, and found my new lodgings waiting

for me.

* * * * *

As we came up through Westminster I was riding alone, for I had bidden

my man James to go aside to a little shop that was almost on our route,

behind the abbey, to buy me something that I needed--I think it was a

pair of cuffs; but I am not sure. It was very near dark, and the lamps

were not yet lighted.

As I came towards the gate of Whitehall, I was riding very carelessly

and heavily, paying little attention to anything, for I was thinking, as

it happened, of Dolly, with an extraordinary misery in my heart, and of

how I should ever tell her (unless matters mended soon) of what her

father had done; and whether in some manner he would not yet contrive to

separate us. My horse swerved a little, and I pulled him up, for there

were a couple of fellows immediately crossing before me. I saw that they

looked hard at me; but I noticed no more, for at that instant I heard a

horse coming up behind me, and turned to see that it was James. He

looked a little strange, thought I, but he said nothing: only he came

up, right beside me, and so rode with me through the gate.

He said nothing then, nor did I; and it was not until I was dismounted

and a fellow had run out to take the horses that he asked if he might

speak with me.

"Why, certainly," said I; and we turned together into the Court.

"Sir," he said, so soon as we were out of earshot of the guard, "did you

see those two fellows without the gate?" I said that I had.

"Sir," he said, "they were following you all the way from Chelsea. I

saw them at Winchester House; and I have seen them before to-day, too."

"Eh?" said I, a little startled.

Then he told me he had seen them for the last fortnight, three or four

times at least, and that he was sure they were after some mischief. Once

before to-day too, as we were riding in Southwark, and he had delayed

for a stone in his horse's foot, he had seen them run out from behind a

wall, but that they had made off when they saw him coming.

Now I knew very well what he meant. London was very far from being a

safe place in those days for a man that had enemies. There was scarcely

a week passed but there was some outrage, in broad daylight too, in less

populated parts, and in the various Fields, and after dark men were not

very safe in the City itself.

A year ago I should have thought nothing of it; but I was down in the

world now, I knew very well, and I had enemies who would stick at

nothing. It was true that they had let me alone for a while--no doubt

lest any suspicion should attach to them--but the winter was on us now,

and the mornings and evenings were dark; and, too, a good deal of time

had elapsed. I remembered what Mr. Chiffinch had said to me at the

beginning of the trouble.

"You did very well to tell me," I said. "Would you know them again if

you saw them?"

"I think so, sir," he said.

"Well," I said, "I have no doubt that they are after me. You will tell

my other men, will you not?"

"I told them a week ago," he said.

I said no more to him then; but instead of going immediately to my

lodgings, I went first to see Mr. Chiffinch, and found him just come in.

I told him very briefly what James had told me; but made no comment. He

whistled, and bade me sit down.

"They are after you then," he said. "I thought they would be."

"But who are they?" said I, a little peevishly.

"If I knew their names," said the page, "I could put my hands on them

on some excuse or other. But I do not know. It is the dregs of the old

country-party no doubt."

"And what good do they think to get out of me?"

"Why, it is revenge no doubt," he said. "They know that you are down

with the king and have not many friends; and they suspect that you are

still in with the secret service, no doubt."

"They are after my life, then?" I asked.

"I should suppose so."

He considered a minute or two in silence. At last he spoke again.

"I will have a word with His Majesty. He is treating you shamefully, Mr.

Mallock; and I will tell him so. And I will take other measures also."

I asked what those might be.

"I will have my men to look out closely when you go about. You had best

not go alone at all. Within Whitehall you are safe enough; but I would

not go out except with a couple of men, if I were you."

I told him I always took one, at least.

"Well; I would take two," he observed. "There was that murder last week,

in Lincoln's Inn Fields--put down to the Mohocks. Well; it was a

gentleman of my own who was killed, though that is not known; and it was

no more Mohocks than it was you or I."

* * * * *

As we were still talking my man James came up to seek me, with a letter

that he had found in my lodgings, waiting for me. I knew the hand well

enough; and I suppose that I shewed it; for when I looked up from

reading it, Mr. Chiffinch was looking at me with a quizzical face.

"That is good news, Mr. Mallock, is it not?"

I could not refrain from smiling; for indeed it was as if the sun had

risen on my dreariness.

"It is very good news," I said. "It is from my cousin--the 'pretty

cousin,' Mr. Chiffinch. She is come to town with her maid; and asks me

to sup with her."

"Well; take your two men when you go to see her," said he, laughing a

little. "They can entertain the maid, and you the mistress."

* * * * *

I cannot say how wonderfully the whole aspect of the world was changed

to me, as I set out in a little hired coach I used sometimes, with my

two men, half an hour later, for my old lodgings in Covent Garden where,

she said, she had come that evening. It was a very short letter; but it

was very sweet to me. She said only that she could wait no more; that

she knew how ill things must be going with me, and that she must see

with her own eyes that I was not dead altogether. I had striven in my

letters to her to make as light as I could of my troubles; but I suppose

that her woman's wit and her love had pierced my poor disguises. At

least here she was.

* * * * *

She was standing, all ready to greet me, in that old parlour of mine

where I had first met her six years ago; and she was more beautiful now,

a thousand times, in my eyes, than even then. The candles were lighted

all round the walls, and the curtains across the windows; and her maid

was not there. She had already changed her riding dress, and was in her

evening gown with her string of little pearls. As I close my eyes now I

can see her still, as if she stood before me. Her lips were a little

parted, and her flushed cheeks and her bright eyes made all the room

heaven for me. I had not seen her for six months.

"Well, Cousin Roger," she said--no more.