STROKE AND COUNTER-STROKE
Those fifteen minutes had none the less proved a _mauvais quart
d'heure_ for Mr. Kelly. As he entered the room, the memories of the
grey morning when first he stood there were heavy upon his thoughts. A
cheerful fire burnt upon the hearth now as then. There was the settee
on which her ladyship had lain in her pretended swoon. The text which
he had read in the Deanery recurred to him: 'Her ways are the ways of
Death; her feet take hold on Hell.' Through the open door came the
sound of music and the words jangled through Kelly's mind to the tune.
Lady Oxford closed the door; as the latch caught, Kelly lifted his
head and faced her. On that first occasion her ladyship had worn a
mask, and in truth she wore no mask now. A cruel smile played about
her lips; a cruel light glittered in her eyes. She looked him over
with triumph, as though he were her captive bound hand and foot. The
look braced Mr. Kelly. He started from his memories as a man starts up
from sleep; he lived alert and complete in the moments as they passed.
Rose, the King's papers, his own liberty--this was his new text. Her
ladyship could be trusted to give a sufficient exposition of the
other.
She seated herself, and with her fan beckoned him to a chair.
'We have much to speak of, sir. I hear that I have to make you my
congratulations, and to pay you my thanks. You may conceive with what
sincerity.'
Mr. Kelly remained standing by the fireside.
'For what services does your ladyship thank me?'
'You have made me a tavern-jest. I have to thank you for a ballad.'
Mr. Kelly did not deny or argue the point. His pressing business was
to know what Lady Oxford intended.
'And on what fortunate event does your ladyship congratulate me?'
'Are there so many fortunate events in the life of an Irish runagate
and traitor? On your happy marriage, sir, with the starving
apothecary's daughter.'
Mr. Kelly laughed pleasantly.
'Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious. Upon my honour, I know no
such woman,' he said, thinking thus to provoke her to disclose her
purposes.
Lady Oxford, to his surprise, rose up with a joyful air. 'I knew it,'
she cried. 'I knew the story of the girl was the idle talk of the
Cocoa Tree. And Lady Mary thought to stab me with the cruel news. Ah,
if the honour of my Strephon be pledged, his Smilinda's anger
vanishes.'
Here she threw her arms about Kelly's neck, in a very particular
embrace, as if she would kiss him. But she refrained from such a
caress. Her arms were clasped tighter and yet more tight till Kelly
could scarcely breathe, and her cold whispering mouth touched his ear.
'There was, then, no starving apothecary?'
'None, madam. You have been misinformed.'
The embrace grew deadly tight. He could not have thought that a woman
had such strength in her arms.
'No man named Townley? No daughter Rose? No wound? No nursing? No
love-vows? No dog Harlequin? No betrothal? Liar!' she whispered in a
strange voice, 'I see your miss's ring upon your finger. I saw my
portrait upon her breast. Did she steal it? 'Tis like enough. But 'tis
likelier that you lie!'
'Your ladyship misunderstands,' said Kelly. 'I denied that there was a
starving apothecary's daughter. I did not deny that there was a man
named Townley, who, by the way, is your ladyship's guest. I did not
deny there was a daughter Rose----'
'Go!' she cried suddenly, releasing Kelly, and pushing him off. 'I
know everything, everything. Go, traitor to your King and to your
word! And when you are hanged, but _not till you are dead_, remember
that you have made a toy and jest of _me_, babbling to your Lady Marys
and your Wogans.'
She flung herself back on a settee panting and tearing her laced
handkerchief into shreds. Kelly waited a little for her to recover her
composure.
'Madam,' he said, 'in the fatal circumstances you mention with such
relish, it is certainly not of you that I shall think, though in less
painful moments I shall ever do so with honour and gratitude. As for
what you say of my babbling, I protest my innocence before Heaven.
Your ladyship forgets that you have an enemy from whom it was my good
fortune once to defend you.'
Lady Oxford dropped her handkerchief and sat forward staring
doubtfully at Kelly, who at once pressed his advantage.
'It was into this room that I then had the honour of escorting your
ladyship. Upon that occasion, if I may be pardoned for reminding you,
what appears now to be treachery in me, seemed more akin to loyalty.
But though the sentiments of your ladyship have suffered a change
since then, those of Mr. Scrope have not. It was he who had attacked
you then; it is he who attacks you now, and, believe me, it is my
regret that I was not again at hand to defend you.'
The Parson should have stopped before those last few words were
spoken. He spoke them in all sincerity, but they lost him the
advantage he had gained, for it was not in Lady Oxford's nature to
believe them. She made her profit out of her lovers' sincerity, yet
could not comprehend it. It seemed almost as though some instinct led
her to choose them for that very quality, with which her judgment
could not credit them.
'A fine story,' she exclaimed with a sneer, 'and no doubt the
apothecary's daughter would be entirely content with it, but I know
you lie.'
Kelly bowed in silence.
'Wait,' she said, mistaking the bow, for Mr. Kelly had a certain
question to ask before he returned to the company; 'we must appear
together.'
She took in her hand a box of lace which had been placed ready in the
room.
'Your hand, if you please, Mr. Johnson, for the last time. You are
going, sir, to your death by rope and knife, or by point of sword.'
Mr. Kelly gave Lady Oxford his hand, and put his question:
'Your Ladyship has no fear that I shall escape?'
Her ladyship had none whatever, as her smile clearly showed.
'Then perhaps your ladyship will inform me how much liberty I have
still left to me.'
'You have to-night free,' she answered, and as he heard the words
Kelly's heart gave a great leap within him. 'So much reprieve you
have. But you must not go till I dismiss you. Enjoy yourself.' She
took Kelly's hand with a low courtesy.
He had to-night free! At all events, the King's papers would be saved.
If all else went down, the papers would be saved. So it came about
that he met Wogan at the stair-foot with a smiling face.
In the withdrawing-room the clatter of tongues had begun again, so
that neither Lady Oxford nor the Parson distinguished the shouts of
the newsboys, as they mounted the stairs. To Mr. Wogan, indeed, who
followed upon their heels, the words no longer rose clear and audible.
But as they entered the room, it was plain something was stirring. The
windows stood open, gentlemen leaned out, ladies asked questions;
about each window there was a restless, noisy group. The candles
guttered in the wind; the card-tables were deserted; and straight in
front of him Mr. Wogan saw Rose, her hands clasped in an extremity of
apprehension. Colonel Montague stood beside her chatting easily and
making as though he remarked nothing of her uneasiness.
Then the hoarse cries again rang through the room.
'Bloody Popish Plot.' 'A Plot discovered.'
'What, yet another Plot?' said Mr. Wogan smiling to Lady Oxford.
'Mr. Walpole discovers plots by the dozen; he is the most active of
our guardians, 'said Kelly easily. He dared not look at Rose.
'We must hear more of it,' said Lady Oxford pleasantly, and calling
her black boy: 'Run, Sambo, bring this late-flying night-bird of ill
omen.'
The boy grinned, and ran away upon his errand. Lady Oxford came up to
my Lady Mary Montagu.
'See, madam,' she cried, opening the box of lace with the air of a
child that has a new toy.
'See what this kind obliger has brought me from the looms of the Fairy
Queen. All point d'Alencon of the finest. Yes, you may well look
envious. Here is meat for a Queen.'
The other ladies, deserting the windows when they heard that magical
word 'lace,' crowded round, and Kelly was, where many a pretty fellow
would have loved to be, in the centre of a perfumed world of fans and
hoops, of sparkling eyes and patched faces. Kelly, however, had other
business on hand, and, slipping through the group while Lady Oxford
was praising her lace, he drew Wogan aside to a window now deserted.
There he told him of his conversation with Lady Oxford.
'So you see, Nick, I have to-night free. I mean to run to my lodging,
burn the papers, and then--why one has a night free. I may yet outwit
my lady. Besides, the papers once burned, there's little proof to
condemn me. Speak to Rose, Nick! She will believe _you_; you never
lied to her. Tell her there's no need to despair. Then make speed to
the coast. I must go to Ryder Street.'
As he turned, Nick caught him by the arm.
'You must not go yet.'
'Why?'
For answer Wogan turned to the window.
'Stand here in the shadow of the curtain. Across the street; there, in
the corner.'
Kelly put his hands to his face to shut out the light of the room, and
peered into the darkness.
'There is a man. Who is it?'
'I told you! Scrope. I saw him an hour ago. A link-boy's torch showed
me his face. You have to-night free. An hour or so more will make
little difference to you, and may tire out our friend there--or he may
mean another bout with the sharps.'
'I hope so,' said Kelly.
At this moment Sambo returned with a little damp sheet of the _Flying
Post_, and the laces were forgotten. Sambo carried the sheet to Lady
Oxford.
'Faugh,' said she, 'I dare not touch the inky thing!'
Wogan came out from his window, where he left his friend, and took the
sheet from the boy's black paw.
'Does your ladyship wish to alarm us all by reading out the news?
These Papists are terrible fellows.'
'Read! Read!' said Lady Oxford, with a contented laugh.
Wogan ran his eyes over the print.
'It is scarce fit for ladies' ears,' he said meaningly. 'Some nonsense
out of Grub Street. The wretch should be whipped from Temple Bar to
Westminster,' and Wogan made as if he would tear the sheet.
Her ladyship hesitated. But she could not guess what the sheet
contained, and she knew Mr. Wogan would try to screen his friend.
'Nay, read sir,' she said boldly, 'or must I imperil my own fingers
with the foul thing?'
Wogan folded the paper, and with a bow held it out to her ladyship;
again she hesitated; she did not take the sheet; she looked into
Wogan's face as though she would read the news-sheet there. Curious
smiles began to show upon the faces about her, heads to nod, lips to
whisper.
'Shall I oblige your ladyship?' asked Mr. Methuen, who stood by.
'If you please,' replied Lady Oxford, but in a less certain tone than
she had used before.
Mr. Methuen took the sheet from Wogan's hand, unfolded it, and glanced
at it.
'It is indeed scarce fit for your ladyship's ears,' he said; and in
his turn he folded it.
The smiles broadened, the whispers increased. Lady Oxford was
altogether disconcerted.
'I will read it,' a young voice rang out. Lord Sidney Beauclerk
stepped forward, took the sheet from Mr. Methuen, and at once read it
aloud. He began defiantly, but towards the end his voice faltered. Mr.
Kelly did not turn round, and seemed to pay no heed whatever.
'They write from Paris that a foul Plot against the Throne, and even
the sacred Person of His Most Gracious Majesty hath been discovered.
In Town, it is thought that a Lady of great Beauty who has a Tory Lord
of advanced years and gouty Habit to her Husband, and a young Whig
Officer of great Promise for her Friend, hath given the Intelligence
to the Minister. Nobody has yet been taken, but the Gentry of the
Silver Greyhound are thought to have their eyes on a certain Reverend
Nonjuror. We say no more for the present.'
Lord Sidney crumpled up the sheet, and retiring from the circle,
slowly tore it in pieces.
'To be sure, they say quite enough,' murmured Lady Mary, and no one
else spoke, but all looked to Lady Oxford.
Lady Oxford was brave.
In the silence of the company who were gathered round she spoke.
'Too scurrilous to need a contradiction! Doubtless it is I and my kind
lace-dealer who are aimed at. Now Mr. Johnson is here, and is my
guest. The inference is plain.'
Mr. Johnson turned from the window and came up to the group.
'My confidence in her ladyship is as great as my certainty that there
is no Plot in which I am concerned,' said Kelly, bowing to the lady,
and letting his jolly laugh out of him to the comfort of the company
who did not smoke his jest. Mr. Wogan admired his friend.
It was now become impossible for Kelly to leave the house. Should he
go now, his going would wear all the appearances of a hasty flight,
and who knew but what some of Mr. Walpole's spies might be within the
room as well as in the street? Kelly must remain and brave it out, as
he clearly recognised. For,
'There are ears to be cut for this,' he went on, 'but we had better be
cutting the cards.'
'Mr. Johnson holds the bank with me!' cried Lady Oxford. 'After this
terrible false alarm I am ready to risk all, and brave everything. I
must win enough to pay for my laces; I am much in Mr. Johnson's debt.
Sambo, my money box.'
The black boy ran out of the room. Mr. Kelly walked towards the
card-table, and as he went, a light hand was laid upon his arm, and
Rose's trembling voice whispered in his ear:
'George, you will go. Yes, now, to-night. There may yet be time for
you to cross to France.'
Mr. Kelly was comforted beyond words, beyond belief. Rose knew, and
she forgave; he had not thought it was in woman's nature. But he was
also tempted to fly; his papers unburned, the Cause deserted. The hand
upon his sleeve had its fingers on his heart-strings, and was twanging
them to a very pretty tune. A few strides would bring him to the
doorway, a couple of leaps to the foot of the stairs, and outside was
the night.
'You will go,' she repeated, seeing how her voice weakened him.
'Now--now.'
'Yes 'trembled on his lips. It seemed to Rose in her great longing
that she heard the word breathed upon the air. But he did not speak
it; he spoke no word at all. He started, his mouth dropped, his blue
eyes stared, the blood was drained from his cheeks. He stood amazed,
like one that sees a ghost. Rose followed the direction of his eyes;
she saw the guests, the tables, the candles, but nothing that should
so startle her lover.
'What is it?' she asked, fearing any delay that checked the assent she
had seen tremble on his lips. 'You will go! You will go!' But even as
she spoke she knew that he would not go. His face kept its pallor, but
grew resolute, ennobled. He had ceased to think of his own safety.
'I cannot go,' he said.
'Why?'
'Mr. Johnson,' Lady Oxford's voice broke in. Sambo had returned with a
casket curiously enamelled. 'Mr. Johnson,' said she, looking into the
casket: 'Some five hundred pounds.'
'And six rouleaux,' added Kelly, bringing out the spoils of Hazard
with an air.
Rose turned away, her face of a sudden grown very white and hard. She
had done her best to make Kelly seek safety, and he would not: could
she do more?
The Parson crossed suddenly to Wogan, his face very pale, but with a
wonderful bright light in his eyes.
'Nick, I have seen the King, here, in this room, young, happy. The
shadow of the hundred years of sorrow of his race has lifted from his
forehead.'
'The King is at Antwerp, George. You have not seen him.'
'Then it is his spirit, which has taken form to hearten us,' Kelly
whispered in a voice of awe.
'George, you have seen Lord Sidney Beauclerk.' It needed no more than
a word to make him understand. He had not seen the King nor the King's
appearance, only the King's cousin, Lord Sidney. But now he could not
forget any longer that the King's papers were in his lodgings; that at
all costs he must reach his lodgings unfollowed; that at all costs
those papers must be a little pile of ashes before the morning came.
'The bank is open,' said Lady Oxford. 'Colonel Montague, will you find
a lady and be our opposite?'
The glum Colonel bowed in silence, and allied himself with silly
smiling Lady Rich. The play was high. The luck had not deserted Kelly,
while Lady Oxford paid him a hundred flattering compliments and
bantered her military lover, who was not ready at repartee or was not
ready then.
'_Malheureux en jeu_,' said Lady Oxford, repeating the proverb Lady
Mary had already quoted that evening. 'How fortunate, Colonel, must be
your affections!'
'It is only your ladyship who has all the luck and wins, or wins back
if she loses,' answered the Colonel, looking at Mr. Kelly with an evil
favour, and her ladyship laughed in pure delight.
There was another game besides Quadrille played at that table. Lady
Oxford was setting Colonel Montague and the Parson by the ears. Did
she wish to embroil them in a quarrel to make Kelly's ruin doubly
sure? Wogan watched the Colonel; he had the first claim upon the
Colonel's sword. Mr. Kelly kept smiling and raking in the rippling
golden stakes. The company stood round; they had left their tables to
see this great battle of Quadrille. At times Wogan caught a glimpse of
Rose Townley through a gap in the circle. She could not know why her
lover had not fled. She only knew that, in her despite, he stayed in
the house of the woman of whom he had told her at Avignon, though his
life was in peril; she only saw that woman fawning upon him, and him
smiling back to the woman. Lady Mary had stolen her hand into the
girl's, that no doubt was cold as marble, and in his heart Wogan
blessed her kind ladyship. At last all the tide of gold had turned to
Lady Oxford's side of the table. The Colonel rose and confessed
defeat.
People began to say their good-byes. Dr. Townley crossed the room to
his daughter, who rose at once with a word of thanks to Lady Mary. Mr.
Kelly remarked her movement, and with an imploring look bade her wait
until Lady Oxford released him.
'Mr. Johnson,' said her ladyship, dividing the winnings, 'short
accounts make long friends. I think when you reckon up the night you
will find that all my great debt to you is fully paid.'
Mr. Kelly bowed, and took the money, his eyes on her flushed face and
glittering serpent's eyes. Lady Oxford turned to Colonel Montague.
'Your revenge is waiting for you, Colonel, whenever you are pleased to
claim it. To-morrow if you will.'
'Madam, I may claim my revenge to-night,' said the Colonel, and
stepped back with his full weight upon Kelly's foot. There was no
mistaking the deliberate movement. Lady Oxford made as though she had
not seen it, but as she turned away her face had a look of pleasure,
which Mr. Kelly remarked.
'Nay, Colonel,' said Wogan, 'you and I have a game to play, you
remember. Le Queux's is still open and I claim the first call on your
leisure at Hazard.'
Colonel Montague answered Mr. Wogan with a good-nature which the
latter did not comprehend.
'I have indeed some words to say to you, sir.'
'But, Colonel,' said the Parson, 'you trod upon my foot. I shall be
happy to consult you on the bruise to-morrow.'
'To-morrow?' said Montague, his face hardening instantly. 'I may
inquire after it before then,' and so making his bow he got him from
the room.
Lady Oxford gave her hand to Wogan and dismissed him with a friendly
word. She was so occupied with the pleasure of her revenge that she
had altogether forgotten his jest about the ballad. Wogan on his side
made his leave-taking as short as could be, for out of the corner of
his eye he saw Kelly offering his arm to Miss Townley, and Kelly must
not leave the house without Wogan at his side. For, in the first
place, Colonel Montague was for a sure thing standing sentinel within
ten paces of the door, and after he had run the gauntlet of the
Colonel, there was Scrope for him to make his account with, should
Scrope attempt to follow in his tracks. Mr. Wogan had a mind to insist
upon his first claim to Colonel Montague's attentions, and, once they
were rid of him, it would not be difficult to come to a suitable
understanding with Scrope should he attempt to follow them to Ryder
Street.
Mr. Wogan was indeed already relishing in anticipation the half-hour
that was to come, and hurried after the Parson, who was by this time
close to the door with Rose upon his arm and Dr. Townley at his heels.
'Good night, Mr. Johnson,' said her ladyship in a lazy voice. 'Take
care of yourself, for they tell me the streets are not too safe.'
Kelly dropped Rose Townley's arm and turned back towards Lady Oxford.
'But surely,' said he with some anxiety, 'tonight the streets are
safe. Your ladyship assured me of their safety to-night.'
Lady Oxford made no reply for a few seconds, she stood watching Kelly
with an indolent smile. A word of Lady Mary's came back to Wogan's
mind--a word spoken two years since in Paris, 'She will play cat to
any man's mouse.'
'To-night?' said Lady Oxford, lifting her eyebrows, and she glanced
towards the clock. It was five minutes to one. Kelly stared at the
clock, his mouth open and his eyes fixed. Then he drew his hand across
his forehead, and, walking slowly to the mantelpiece, leaned his hands
on it in a broken attitude and so stared at the clock again. Lady
Oxford had struck her last blow, and the last was the heaviest. Kelly
had the night free, but the night was gone--and the streets were not
safe. Nothing could be saved now--not even the King's papers. Then
Wogan saw a change come over his face. The despair died out of it and
left it blank as a shuttered window. But very slowly the shutter
opened. He was thinking; the thought became a hope, the hope a
resolve. First his knees straightened, then the rounded shoulders rose
stiff and strong. In his turn Kelly struck.
'Your ladyship,' he said, 'was kind enough some time ago to entrust me
with your own _brocades_. Those brocades are in the strong box in my
lodgings.'
Wogan understood. Brocades was the name for letters in the jargon of
the Plot. Lady Oxford's love-letters were in that box which he had
handled that very afternoon. If Kelly was seized in the street his
rooms would be searched, the King's papers found, and, with the King's
papers, Lady Oxford's love-letters. Lady Oxford understood too. Her
ingenious stratagems of the evening to discredit the ballad and save
her fair fame would be of little avail if the world once got wind of
those pretty outpourings of Smilinda's heart. Her face grew very
white. She dropped her fan and stooped to recover it. It was
noticeable, though unnoticed, that no one of those who were still
present stepped forward to pick up the fan. Curiosity held them in
chains, not for the first time that evening. It was as though they
stood in a room and knew that behind locked doors two people were
engaged in a duel. Now and then a clink of steel would assure them
that a thrust was made; but how the duel went they could not tell.
When Lady Oxford rose her colour had returned.
'My brocades?' she said. 'Indeed, I had purely forgotten them. You
have had them repaired in Paris?'
'Yes, madam,' answered Kelly deliberately. 'I do not think the streets
are so unsafe as your ladyship supposes; but I should be sorry for
them to fall into any hands but your own if by any chance footpads end
my days to-night.'
He bowed and walked towards Rose Townley and her father, who stood in
the doorway at a loss what to make of the scene. He had crossed half
the distance before Lady Oxford moved. Then, it seemed with one swift
step, she stood at Kelly's side.
'Mr. Johnson, you are my prisoner!' she exclaimed. 'My dear brocades!
Mr. Johnson, you are surely the most attentive of men. You must tell
me how they have been repaired; I shall not close my eyes unless you
take pity on my impatience.'
Had Kelly been the man to care for triumphs wrested from a woman, he
would have found his occasion now. A minute before, Lady Oxford's eyes
glittered with menaces, her face was masterful; now, her eyes besought
pity, her face was humbled.
'If your ladyship will permit me,' said Kelly, 'I will return when I
have seen Miss Townley to her chair.'
It was a difficult moment for Miss Townley. For to those who looked on
it seemed that by some means here was Mr. Johnson brought back into
bondage before the very eyes of his betrothed. But Rose was patient of
Lady Mary's lesson. 'Tomorrow give him his _conge_ if you will;
to-night be staunch! It is for life and honour!' She knew no more, but
she was loyal. Wogan had seen men go, for the Cause, to a shameful
death by torture. But he never saw courage so unfaltering, or loyalty
so true, as this girl's. She was not herself in that hour; she had
taken up a part as an actress does, and she played it clean, and
played it through. To-morrow she might be a woman again, a woman
wronged, deceived, insulted; to-night, with the astonishing valour and
duplicity of her sex, she was all in her part, to see nothing, to know
nothing, to be staunch.
To the smiles, the simpered sarcasms, the quizzing glances, she paid
no heed. She said, with a simple dignity, to Lady Oxford:
'I will not keep Mr. Johnson long. It is but a few steps to your
ladyship's door, where my chair waits for me,' and she held out her
hand to Kelly. She had her reward. Kelly's face put on a look of pride
which no one in the room could mistake. He took her hand with a laugh,
and threw back his chest.
'I will return, your ladyship,' he said gaily, and with Rose passed
out of the door. The whispers were stilled; the couple went down the
stairs in a great silence. Rose bore herself bravely until she had
stepped into her chair; showed a brave face then at the window.
'I shall hear of you from France,' she whispered. 'Good-night.'
The chair was carried off; Dr. Townley followed. The Parson returned
slowly up the stairs. His heart was full; in Rose's eyes he had seen
the tears gathering; no doubt in the darkness of her chair they were
flowing now. She would hear of him from France! Well, he had his one
weapon--Lady Oxford's letters. If he used that weapon aright, why
should she not hear of him from France? By the time he reached the top
of the stairs, he was already putting together the words of the letter
he should write.
When he re-entered the withdrawing-room, the last few guests, of whom
Wogan was one, were taking their departure. Wogan saw Kelly move
towards the little card-table which had stood empty. Kelly sat down,
and with the fingers of one hand he played with the cards, cutting
them unwittingly as though for a deal. It was, after all, he and not
Wogan who had to play the hand with the shrouded figure. Wogan had
already made his adieux. As he passed out of the door Lady Oxford was
standing in the middle of the room plucking at her fan. As he went
down the stairs, the door was flung to with a bang. Lady Oxford and
Kelly were left alone.