CHAPTER XIII

Such was the man I saw before me; on whose face, as if heaven purposed

to warn his fellows against him, malignant passion and an insane

vanity were so plainly stamped that party spirit must have gone to

lengths, indeed, before it rendered men blind to his quality. His

shambling gait seemed a fitting conveyance for a gaunt, stooping

figure so awkward and uncouth that when he gave way to gesticulation

it seemed to be moved by wires; yet, once he looked askance at you,

face and figure were forgotten in the gleam of the eyes that,

treacherous and cruel, leered at you from the penthouse of his huge,

ill-fitting wig.

Nevertheless, I confess that, while I hated and loathed the man, he

cowed me. His latest escape had intoxicated him, and astride on my

table, or stalking the floor, he gave way to his vanity. Pouring out a

flood of ribald threats and imaginings, he now hinted at the fate

which had never failed to befall those who thwarted him; now he

boasted of his cunning and his hundred intrigues, and now he touched,

not obscurely, on some great design soon to be executed. His audacity,

no less than his frankness, bewildered me; for if he did not tell me

all, he told enough, were it true, to hang a man. Yet I soon found

that he had method in his madness; for while I listened with a

shamefaced air, hating him and meditating informing against him the

moment I was freed from his presence, he turned on me with a hideous

grin, and thrusting the muzzle of his pistol against my temple, swore

with endless curses to slay me if I betrayed him.

"You will go to Brome to-morrow, as usual," he said. "The Whiggish old

dotard, I could pluck out his inwards! And you will say not one word

of Mr. Ferguson! For, mark me, sirrah Dick, alone or in company I

shall be at your elbow, nor will all Cutts's guards avail to save you!

Do you mark me? Then d---- you, down on your knees! Down on your

knees, you white-livered dog, and swear by the Gospels you will tell

no living soul by tongue or pen that you have seen me."

He pressed the cold steel muzzle to my temple and I knelt and swore.

When it was done, he roared and jeered at me. "You see, I have my

oath!" he cried, "as well as Little Hooknose! And no non-jurors! Now

say 'Down with King William!'"

I said it.

"Louder! Louder!" he cried.

I could only comply.

[Illustration: HE PRESSED THE RING OF COLD STEEL]

"Now, write it! Write it!" he continued, thrusting a piece of paper

under my nose, and slapping his huge hand upon it. "I'll have it in

black and white! Or write this--ha! ha! that will be better. Are you

ready? Write, 'I hereby abjure my allegiance to Prince William.'"

"No," I said faintly, laying down the pen which I had taken up at his

bidding. "I will not write it."

"You _will_ write it!" he answered in a terrible tone. "And within a

very few seconds. Write it at once, sirrah! 'I hereby abjure my

allegiance to Prince William!'"

I wrote it with a shaking hand, after a glance at the pistol muzzle.

"And swear that I regard King James as my lawful sovereign. And I

undertake to obey the rules of the St. Germain's Club, and to forward

its interests. Good! Now sign it."

I did so.

"Date it," cried the tyrant; and when I had done so he snatched the

paper from me and flourished it in the air, "There is my passport!"

quoth he, with an exultant laugh. "When I am taken that will be taken,

and when that is taken the worse for Mr. Richard Price if he is taken.

He will taste of the hangman's lash. So! You are a clever fellow,

Richard Price, but Robert Ferguson is your master, as he has been

better men's!"

The man was so much in love with cruelty, that even when he had gained

his point he could not bear to give up the pleasure of torturing me;

and for half an hour he continued to flout and jeer at me, sometimes

picturing my fate if the paper fell into the Secretary's hands, and

sometimes threatening me with his pistol, and making sport of my

alarm. At last, reluctantly, and after many warnings of what would

happen to me if I informed, he took himself off; and I heard him go

into the opposite rooms, and slam the door.

Be sure I was not long in securing mine after him! I was in a pitiable

state of terror; shaking at thought of the man's return, and in an

ague when I considered the power over me, which the paper I had signed

gave him. I could hardly believe that, in so short a time, anything so

dreadful had happened to me! Yet it were hard to say whether, with all

my terror, I did not hate him more than I feared him; for though at

one time my heart was water when I thought of betraying him, at

another it glowed with rage and loathing, and to spite him, and to

free myself from him, I would risk anything. And as I was not wanting

in foresight, and could picture with little difficulty the slavery in

which he would hold me from that day forward--and wherein his cruel

spirit would delight--it was the latter mood that prevailed with me,

and determined my action when morning came.

Reflecting that I could expect no mercy from him, but had little to

fear from the Government, if I told my tale frankly, I determined at

all risks to go to the Secretary. I would have done so, the moment I

rose, the thought that at any moment he might burst in upon me keeping

me in a cold sweat; but I was prudent enough to abide by my habits,

and refrain from anticipating by a second the hour at which it was my

custom to descend. I waited in the utmost trepidation, therefore,

until half-past seven, when with a quaking heart, but a mind made up,

I ventured down to the street.

It was barely light, but the coffee-houses were open, and between

early customers to these, and barbers passing with their curling

tongs, and milkmen and hawkers plying morning wares, and apprentices

setting out their masters' goods, the ways were full and noisy; so

that I had no reason to fear pursuit, and in the hubbub gained courage

the farther I left my oppressor behind me. Nevertheless, I took the

precaution of going first to Mr. Brome's, opposite St. Dunstan's; and

passing in there, as was my daily custom, lingered a little in the

entry. When by this ruse I had made assurance doubly sure, I slipped

out, and went through the crowded Strand to Whitehall.

Mr. Brome had a species of understanding with the Government; and on

one occasion being ill, had made me his messenger to the Secretary's.

I knew the place therefore, but none the less gave way to timidity

when I saw the crowd of ushers, spies, tipstaves, and busybodies that

hung about the door of the office, and took curious note of everyone

who went in or out. My heart failed me at the sight, and I was already

more than half inclined to go away, my business undone, when someone

touched my sleeve, and I started and turned. A girl still in her

teens, with a keen and pinched face, and a handkerchief neatly drawn

over her head, handed a note to me.

"For me?" I asked.

"Yes," said she.

I took it on that and opened it, my hands shaking. But when I read the

contents, which were these--"Mr. Robert Ferguson's respects to the

Secretary, and he has to-day changed his lodging. He will to-morrow be

pleased to supply the bearer's character"--I thought I should have

fallen to the ground. Nor was my alarm the less for the reflection

which immediately arose in my mind that the note had of necessity been

written and despatched before I left Mr. Brome's door; and

consequently before I had taken any step towards the execution of my

design!

Still, what I held was but a piece of paper bearing a message from a

man proscribed, who dared not show his face where I stood. A word to

the doorkeepers and I might even now go in and lay my information. But

the man's omniscience cowed my spirit, terrified me, and broke me

down. Assured after this, that whatever I did or wherever I went he

would know and be warned in time, and I gain by my information nothing

but the name of a gull or a cheat, I turned from the door. Then seeing

that the girl waited, "There is no answer," I said.

"Will you please to go to the gentleman?" quoth she.

My jaw dropped. "God forbid!" I said, beginning to tremble.

"I think you had better," said she.

And this time there was that in her voice roused doubts in me and made

me waver--lest what I had done prove insufficient, and he betray me,

though I refrained from informing. Sullenly, therefore, and after a

moment's thought, I asked her where he was.

"I am not to tell you," she answered. "You can come with me if you

please."

"Go on," I said.

She cast a sharp glance at the group about the office, then turned,

and walking rapidly north by Charing Cross led me through St. Martin's

Lane and Bedford Bury to Covent Garden. Skirting this, she threaded

Hart Street and Red Lion Court, and crossing Drury Lane conducted me

into Lincoln's Inn Fields, where she turned sharply to the left and

through Ralph Court to the Turnstile. Seeing that she lingered here

and from time to time looked back, I fancied that we were near our

destination; but starting afresh, she led me along Holborn and through

Staple Inn. Presently it struck me that we were near Bride Lane, and I

cried "He is in my room?"

"Yes," she said gravely, and without explanation. "If he pleases you

will find him there." And without more she signed to me to go on, and

disappeared herself in the mouth of an alley by Green's Rents.

It did please him. When I entered with the air, doubtless, of a

whipped hound, I found him sitting on my table swinging his legs and

humming an air; and with so devilish a look of malice and triumph on

his face as sent my heart into my boots. Notwithstanding, for a while

it was his humour not to speak to me but to leer at me askance out of

the corner of his eyes, and keep me on tenterhooks, expecting what he

would say or do; and this he maintained until he had finished his

tune, when with a grin he asked after his friend the Secretary.

"Was it Trumball you saw, or the new Duke?" said he; and when I did

not answer he roared out an oath, and snatching up the pistol which

lay on the table beside him, levelled it at me. "Answer, will you? Do

you think that I am to speak twice to such uncovenanted dirt as you?

Whom did you see?"

"No one," I stammered, trembling.

"And why not?" he cried. "And why not, you spawn of Satan?"

"I received your note," I said.

"Oh, you received my note!" he whimpered, dropping his voice and

mocking my alarm. "Your lordship received my note, did you? And if you

had not got my note, you would have informed, would you? You would

have informed and sent me to the gallows, would you? Answer! Answer,

or----"

"Yes!" I cried in an agony of terror; for he was bringing the pistol

nearer and nearer to my face, while his finger toyed with the trigger,

and at any moment might press it too sharply.

"So! And you tell me that to my face, do you?" he answered, eyeing me

so truculently, that I held up my hands and backed to the door. "You

dare tell me that, do you? Come here, sirrah!"

I hesitated.

"Come here!" he cried. "Or by ---- I will shoot you! For the last

time, come here!"

I went nearer.

"Oh, but I would like to see you in the boot!" he said. "It would be

the finest sight! It would not need a turn of the screw to make you

cry out! And mind you," he continued, suddenly seizing my ear in his

great hand, and twisting it until I screamed, "in a boot of some kind

or other I shall have you--if you play me false! Do yon understand,

eh? Do you understand, you sheep in wolf's clothing?"

"Yes!" I cried. "Yes, yes!" He had forced me to my knees, and brought

his cruel sneering face close to mine.

"Very well. Then get up--if you have learned your lesson. You have had

one proof that I know more than others. Do not seek another. But,

umph--where have I seen you before. Master Trembler?"

I said humbly, my spirit quite broken, that I did not know.

"No?" he answered, staring at me with his face puckered up. "Yet

somewhere I have. And some day I shall call it to mind. In the

meantime--remember that you are my slave, my dog, my turnspit, to

fetch or carry, cry or be merry at my will. You will sleep or wake, go

or come as I bid you. And so long as you do that--Richard Price, you

shall live. But on the day you play me false, or whisper my name to

living soul--on that day, or within the week, you will hang! Do you

hear, hang, you Erastian dog! Hang, and be carrion: with Ayloffe, and

many another good man, that would stint me, and take no warning!"

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