THE LEVEE—MILLER HARMER ARRIVES IN TOWN—SIR RICHARD, NED WARBECK,
AND THE MILLER ARE GRANTED AN AUDIENCE BY THE KING—THE CUNNING PAGE
SIMON—THE CRAFTINESS OF COL. BLOOD—NED WARBECK ALL BUT CHALLENGES
BLOOD IN THE KING’S PRESENCE.
The day agreed on by the king on which Ned Warbeck should again call
came round.
In the meantime, Miller Harmer had safely arrived in town, and to his
consternation learned every particular of his daughter from the lips
of Ned Warbeck, and his uncle, Sir Richard.
The old man’s grief was great; but Sir Richard cheered him, and
gave such wholesome and encouraging advice that he rested and felt
satisfied that ere long justice would fall on all who had had any
hand in robbing him of his darling and only daughter.
Sir Richard had not attended Court for many years before, but now
he donned his best suit, and even insisted that the miller should
accompany him to the levée.
After much persuasion he consented, and went with Sir Richard and Ned
Warbeck.
They had not mixed among the great nobles long, when the king
suddenly exclaimed,
“Sir Richard Warbeck, as I live! his nephew, and a farmer-looking
gentleman also. Welcome, good friend, Warbeck! Why, who were they
that told us you were not living?”
“I know not, sire,” Sir Richard answered, bowing.
“But they are mistaken considerably, are they not?”
“They are, sire.”
“We are glad to hear it, very glad to hear it, indeed, Sir Richard.
And who have you with you?”
“An old friend—an injured man, sire; his name is Harmer, the miller
of Darlington.”
“Ah, indeed! And I am glad to see the worthy miller, who is no doubt
deep in market prices, and reeking with floury learning, eh?”
“Not very deep, sire,” said the miller, gravely. “I come here as a
complainant to the fountain of justice as well as of honour.”
“And I too,” said old Sir Richard.
“I am sorry to hear it; but you had better go to Lord Bute—you know
Bute, our new attorney-general, Sir Richard?—a very clever fellow. Go
to him, and say we send you.”
“If you will deign to read this, sire,” said the miller, presenting a
paper to him.
“Yes, oh, yes—at our leisure.”
“Now, if it pleases you, sire. There are but four lines upon that
paper; but if it possesses you with our great grief it may prevent
bloodshed.”
“Bloodshed?” said the king, as he opened the note; and then in a low
tone, he read,
“Ellen Harmer, my daughter, has been stolen from her father’s roof.
Colonel Blood is suspected; will you say if you think him guilty or
not?”
“Hem!” said the king, “a grave charge this—very, very grave. It is
well not to fill all our gossips with such a matter.”
“It is, sire, and therefore was it that I wrote these lines for the
miller,” said Sir Richard, “and took his case in hand.”
“You have done well, quite well. Let me think; I hardly know it I
ought to do this that you ask of me, but I promise you that I will do
all I can to find the lady. I will myself take steps to do so.”
“You are ever gracious, sire,” said Ned Warbeck, sternly; “but if
Colonel Blood shrinks from the pledge required he will have to meet
me in arms this day, for I shall else make the atmosphere of honour
unfit for him to breathe.”
“No, no—no fighting,” said the king with a toss of the head. “Simon,
where are you?”
“Here, sire,” the cunning page replied.
“Search out Colonel Blood, and tell him to meet us in the wainscot
chamber in an hour from now. Will that content you?”
“Yes, sire, if you will promise to take steps to avenge my child.”
“Yes, oh, yes, we will.”
“Do you think of walking, sire?” asked the cunning page?
“Walking, villain? What do you mean?”
“You talked of taking steps to find Colonel Blood,” said Simon, the
page, with a broad grin.
“Simon, if you stay here another moment I will sacrifice you to my
just resentment. Off with you, rascal!” said the king.
Simon made a rapid retreat, and the king, bowing to Sir Richard
Warbeck, Miller Harmer, and Ned Warbeck, added—
“We will put Blood to his word in this matter, and shall expect to
see you; and also, I must say, we deeply grieve for you.”
There was no resource now for the father of Ellen Harmer and Sir
Richard but to make their exit from the chamber.
“This will be one point gained,” said Sir Richard, “if we got Blood
to convict or clear himself in the presence of the king; it will be
either his exculpation or his ruin.”
“It will—it must!” said Ned Warbeck, warmly, “and I will take good
care that he does not shelter himself under any ambiguity of phrase
in the matter. Where is the wainscot chamber the king spoke of?”
“I know not; but here come a royal page, I will ask him,” said Sir
Richard.
It was Simon who was passing, and to whom Sir Richard said,
“Young man, can you conduct us to the wainscot chamber?”
“Yes, gentlemen,” said Simon, with a roguish smile; “I was seeking
you for that purpose. Will you please follow me?”
“We will.”
Simon led the way to rather a small room that was entirely
wainscotted all over the walls as well as the ceiling, and after
desiring them to be seated he bowed himself out, and scarcely had he
done so when another door was opened, and Simon, appearing again, in
a sharp, sudden tone of voice, announced—
“The king!”
“What a mercy,” said the king, “that the levée is over at last. But
where is Colonel Blood?”
“We have not seen him, sire,” said Sir Richard.
“Oh, then he will be here soon.”
Simon the page opened the door and announced Colonel Blood.
In another moment Colonel Blood entered the room.
He was most magnificently attired in a semi-official kind of costume.
In his hand he carried a hat, looped with a diamond, and ornamented
with a plume of feathers that, as he bowed, swept the floor.
Simon the page had had just time enough to let Colonel Blood know who
he had to meet in the wainscot chamber, and why he had to meet them,
so that the bold colonel was pretty well prepared to face the affair
out with all the nonchalance possible.
“Well, Blood,” said the king, “we have sent for you to ask you a
favour, for the subject of this interview is not one concerning which
we feel justified in impressing a command upon you.”
“I am your humble servant ever, sire,” said Colonel Blood. “Your
requests should be commands to those who are true to your person.”
“Well, well. Blood, that is all very well; but here are three
gentlemen with grievous complaints.”
“Of me?”
“In some degree.”
Colonel Blood elevated his eyebrows, and tried to look the picture of
candid innocence and surprise.
“I say, only in some degree,” said the king; and then, turning to Sir
Richard, he added, “May I show him the note, and that will show him
at once what you mean?”
“If you please,” said Sir Richard.
“Well, I think it best. Read that, Colonel Blood, and when you have
read it, remember it is my request that you answer clearly and
categorically to the questions put to you.”
With well-acted surprise Colonel Blood read the note, and then
placing his hand upon his heart, he returned it in silence.
Ned Warbeck looked sternly at him as he said—
“Colonel Blood, it is well known to you that it is not without
reasons that we point at you the finger of suspicion in this case.”
The colonel bowed lowly.
“Therefore,” added Ned, warmly, “the circumstances of our coming in
this way to the king, and requesting him to exercise an authority
that may prevent useless bloodshed, is not altogether so very
extraordinary a one as it might appear.”
The colonel bowed again.
“I do not wish,” added Miller Harmer, “to enter into any dispute with
you. What is past I am willing to forget, if it has fallen short of
the crime of abduction, which I feel myself in a position to lay at
the door of some one.”
“And I, too,” said Sir Richard; “I, too, have reason to require an
explanation from you, colonel, of rather an extraordinary appearance
that you made in my house last night, but am quite willing, for the
present, to wave that circumstance in favour of the questions that my
friend, the miller here, has put to you.”
“Very well, gentlemen,” said the colonel, coolly. “You find me
peculiarly situated here; the king, who holds my first duty, can
command me to reply to you.”
“Nay,” said the king, “that I do not. I only stand here as, I hope,
the friend of all parties; and if anything I can say or do will have
the effect of preventing honourable gentlemen and good subjects from
embroiling themselves in conflict with each other, of course I am
only too happy.”
“Then,” said Ned Warbeck, “do I understand, Colonel Blood, that you
will answer what I have to say to you?”
“You do, sir,” said the colonel, with a curling lip.
“On the word of a gentleman?” said Ned.
“On the word of a gentleman,” replied the colonel.
“Which,” added Sir Richard, “it is moral suicide to falsify.”
“Exactly so,” said the colonel, with a smile; “I propose your
questions, and here I stand ready to reply to them fully and fairly.”
“Then, sir,” said the miller, “is my daughter in your keeping as a
prisoner? I say as a prisoner, because such is the only mode by which
she could be prevented from seeking her friends.”
“She is not, sir,” answered Blood.
“Did you or did you not take her from the house of Sir Richard
Warbeck last night?”
“I did not, sir.”
“Did you cause her to be taken from thence?” said Sir Richard.
“Certainly not.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“I do not know where she is.”
Colonel Blood in this reply kept his word of honour by a piece of
sophistry, rather than by downright candour, for he managed to place
a slight emphasis on the word “know,” and told himself that he could
not be said to know anything of what he had been only told by Simon,
but of which he knew nothing.
There was now a pause of some few moments’ duration, after which the
king said—
“Gentlemen, are you satisfied?”
“We are,” said Sir Richard. “I cannot so far malign human nature than
to do otherwise than believe that what the colonel has said, on his
word of honour, is perfectly true.”
“Stop,” said Ned, fiercely. “Will you say, Colonel Blood, if you are
in possession of any knowledge or information of any kind whatever
respecting Ellen Harmer?”
“Sir,” said Blood, coldly, “I have no right to say more than in all
honour will clear myself of every imputation. More than that will be
to battle about the affairs of others, and to me that is odious.”
Thus ended this fruitless interview, which, on the part of Colonel
Blood, was naught else than a tissue of lies.
“D——n the rascal!” said Ned to Garnet, as they drove home. “I am
certain that the cool, smiling villain knows all about it.”
“Then let us make it our business to entrap him,” said Garnet. “It is
very hard after she has been rescued from their clutches once, that
she should again be taken away, and from your own uncle’s house, too.”
“Never mind,” said Ned; “I’ll be even with Colonel Blood yet.”
* * * * *
“You played your part admirably, Blood,” said the king, when Sir
Richard and the others had left the audience chamber.
“Sire,” said the colonel, smiling, “I am always your majesty’s most
faithful subject.”
“And when shall I see this pretty wench, colonel?”
“To-morrow night, your majesty.”
“’Tis well. Have you made all the arrangements?”
“Yes, sire; but she knows not who you are.”
“So much the better. To-morrow night, then; come early, Blood.”
“I will, sire.”