"Climb down, ye thief," said the grim, slow voice again. I looked once
more into the mouth of the blunderbuss. I decided to climb. If I had
had my two feet square on the ground, I would have taken a turn with
this man, artillery or no artillery, to see if I could get the upper
hand of him. But neither I nor any of my ancestors could ever fight
well in trees. Foliage incommodes us. We like a clear sweep for the
arm, and everything on a level space, and neither man in a tree.
However, a sensible man holds no long discussions with a blunderbuss.
I slid to the ground, arriving in a somewhat lacerated state. I
thereupon found that the man behind the gun was evidently some kind of
keeper or gardener. He had a sour face deeply chiselled with mean
lines, but his eyes were very bright, the lighter parts of them being
steely blue, and he rolled the pair of them from behind his awful
weapon.
"And for whom have you mistaken me, rascal?" I cried as soon as I had
come ungracefully to the ground and found with whom I had to deal.
"Have mistaken ye for naught," replied the man proudly. "Ye be the
thief of the French pears, ye be."
"French pears--French--French what?" I cried.
"Ay, ye know full well," said he, "and now ye'll just march."
Seeing now plainly that I was in the hands of one of Lord Westport's
gardeners, who had mistaken me for some garden-thief for whom he had
been on the look-out, I began to expostulate very pointedly. But
always this man stolidly faced me with the yawning mouth of the
blunderbuss.
"And now ye'll march," said he, and despite everything I marched. I
marched myself through the little door in the wall, and into the
gardens of the Earl of Westport. And the infernal weapon was clamped
against the small of my back.
But still my luck came to me even then, like basket falling out of a
blue sky. As, in obedience to my captor's orders, I rounded a bit of
shrubbery, I came face to face with Lady Mary. I stopped so abruptly
that the rim of the on-coming blunderbuss must have printed a fine
pink ring on my back. I lost all intelligence. I could not speak. I
only knew that I stood before the woman I loved, while a man firmly
pressed the muzzle of a deadly firearm between my shoulder-blades. I
flushed with shame, as if I really had been guilty of stealing the
French pears.
Lady Mary's first look upon me was one of pure astonishment. Then she
quickly recognized the quaint threat expressed in the attitude of the
blunderbuss.
"Strammers," she cried, rushing forward, "what would you be doing to
the gentleman?"
"'Tis no gentleman, your la'ship," answered the man confidently. "He
be a low-born thief o' pears, he be."
"Strammers!" she cried again, and wrested the blunderbuss from his
hands. I will confess that my back immediately felt easier.
"And now, sir," she said, turning to me haughtily, "you will please
grant me an explanation of to what my father is indebted for this
visit to his private grounds?"
But she knew; no fool of a gardener and a floundering Irishman could
keep pace with the nimble wits of a real woman. I saw the pink steal
over her face, and she plainly appeared not to care for an answer to
her peremptory question. However, I made a grave reply which did not
involve the main situation.
"Madam may have noticed a certain deluded man with a bell-mouthed
howitzer," said I. "His persuasions were so pointed and emphatic that
I was induced to invade these gardens, wherein I have been so
unfortunate as to disturb a lady's privacy,--a thing which only causes
me the deepest regret."
"He be a pear-thief," grumbled Strammers from a distance. "Don't ye
take no word o' his, your la'ship, after me bringing 'im down from out
a tree."
"From out a tree?" said Lady Mary, and she looked at me, and I looked
at her.
"The man is right, Lady Mary," said I significantly. "I was in a tree
looking over the garden wall."
"Strammers," said she with decision, "wait for me in the rose-garden,
and speak no single word to anybody until I see you again. You have
made a great mistake."
The man obediently retired, after saluting me with an air of slightly
dubious apology. He was not yet convinced that I had not been after
his wretched French pears.
But with the withdrawal of this Strammers Lady Mary's manner changed.
She became frightened and backed away from me, still holding the
gardener's blunderbuss.
"O sir," she cried in a beautiful agitation, "I beg of you to leave at
once. Oh, please!"
But here I saw it was necessary to treat the subject in a bold Irish
way.
"I'll not leave, Lady Mary," I answered. "I was brought here by force,
and only force can make me withdraw."
A glimmer of a smile came to her face, and she raised the blunderbuss,
pointing it full at my breast. The mouth was still the width of a
water-jug, and in the fair inexperienced hands of Lady Mary it was
like to go off at any moment and blow a hole in me as big as a
platter.
"Charming mistress," said I, "shoot!"
For answer she suddenly flung the weapon to the grass, and, burying
her face in her hands, began to weep. "I'm afraid it's l-l-loaded,"
she sobbed out.
In an instant I was upon my knees at her side and had taken her hand.
Her fingers resisted little, but she turned away her head.
"Lady Mary," said I softly, "I'm a poor devil of an Irish adventurer,
but--I love you! I love you so that if I was dead you could bid me
rise! I am a worthless fellow; I have no money, and my estate you can
hardly see for the mortgages and trouble upon it; I am no fine suitor,
but I love you more than them all; I do, upon my life!"
"Here approaches Strammers in quest of his blunderbuss," she answered
calmly. "Perhaps we had better give it to him."
I sprang to my feet, and, sure enough, the thick-headed ninepin of a
gardener was nearing us.
"Don't ye trust 'im, your la'ship!" he cried. "I caught 'im in a tree,
I did, and he be a bad lot!"
Lady Mary quelled him, and he at once went away with his blunderbuss,
still muttering his many doubts. But still one cannot drop a love
declaration and pick it up again with the facility of a tailor
resuming his work on a waistcoat. One can't say: "Where was I? How far
had I gone before this miserable interruption came?" In a word I found
mysef stammering and stuttering and wasting moments too precious for
words.
"Lady Mary--" I began. "Lady Mary--I love you, Lady Mary! Lady Mary--"
It was impossible for me to depart from this rigmarole and express the
many things with which my heart was full. It was a maddening
tongue-tie. The moments seemed for me the crisis of my existence, and
yet I could only say, "Lady Mary, I love you!" I know that in many
cases this statement has seemed to be sufficient, but as a matter of
fact I was full of things to say, and it was plain to me that I was
losing everything through the fact that my silly tongue clung to the
roof of my mouth.
I do not know how long the agony endured, but at any rate it was ended
by a thunderous hammering upon the little door in the garden-wall. A
high Irish voice could be heard:
"And if ye be not leaving him out immediately, we will be coming over
the wall if it is ten thousand feet high, ye murdering rogues."
Lady Mary turned deadly pale. "Oh, we are lost," she cried.
I saw at once that the interview was ended. If I remained doughtily I
remained stupidly. I could come back some other day. I clutched Lady
Mary's hand and kissed it. Then I ran for the door in the garden wall.
In a moment I was out, and I heard her frantically bolting the door
behind me.
I confronted Paddy and Jem. Jem had in his hands a brace of pistols
which he was waving determinedly. Paddy was wetting his palms and
resolutely swinging a club. But when they saw me their ferocity gave
way to an outburst of affectionate emotion. I had to assert all my
mastership to keep Paddy from singing. He would sing. Sure, if they
had never heard an Irish song it was time they did.
"Paddy," said I, "my troubles are on me. I wish to be thinking. Remain
quiet."
Presently we reached the little inn, and from there the little Doctor
Chord flew out like a hawk at a sparrow.
"I thought you were dead," he shouted wildly. "I thought you were
dead."
"No," said I, "I am not dead, but I am very thirsty." And, although
they were murmuring this thing and that thing, I would have no word
with them until I was led to the parlour of the inn and given a glass.
"Now," said I, "I penetrated to the garden and afterwards I came away
and I can say no more."
The little Doctor was very happy and proud.
"When I saw the man with the blunderbuss," he recounted, "I said
boldly: 'Sirrah, remove that weapon! Exclude it from the scene!
Eliminate it from the situation!' But his behaviour was extraordinary.
He trained the weapon in such a manner that I myself was in danger of
being eliminated from the situation. I instantly concluded that I
would be of more benefit to the cause if I temporarily abandoned the
vicinity and withdrew to a place where the climatic conditions were
more favourable to prolonged terms of human existence."
"I saw you abandoning the vicinity," said I, "and I am free to declare
that I never saw a vicinity abandoned with more spirit and finish."
"I thank you for your appreciation," said the Doctor simply. Then he
leaned to my ear and whispered, barring his words from Jem and Paddy,
who stood respectfully near our chairs. "And the main object of the
expedition?" he asked. "Was there heavy firing and the beating down of
doors? And I hope you took occasion to slay the hideous monster who
flourished the blunderbuss? Imagine my excitement after I had
successfully abandoned the vicinity! I was trembling with anxiety for
you. Still, I could adopt no steps which would not involve such
opportunities for instant destruction that the thought of them brought
to mind the most horrible ideas. I pictured myself lying butchered,
blown to atoms by a gardener's blunderbuss. Then the spirit of
self-sacrifice arose in me, and, as you know, I sent your two servants
to your rescue."
The little man was looking through the window at this moment. Suddenly
he started back, flinging up his hands.
"My soul, he is again upon us," he cried.
I hastily followed his glance, and saw the man Strammers making
peaceful way toward the inn. Apparently he was going to the taproom
for an early pint. The Doctor flurried and dove until I checked him in
fear that he would stand on his head in the fireplace.
"No," said I, "calm yourself. There will be no blunderbusses. On the
other hand, I see here a great chance for a master-stroke. Be quiet
now, and try to hold yourself in a chair and see me deal with the
situation. When it comes to a thing like this, it is all child's play
for me. Paddy," said I. "Jem," said I, "there is a gardener in the
taproom. Go and become his warm friends. You know what I mean. A
tuppence here and there won't matter. But, of course, always treat him
with the profound consideration which is due to so distinguished a
gardener."
They understood me at once and grinned. But even then I was struck
with their peculiar reasons for understanding at once. Jem Bottles
understood at once because he had been a highwayman; Paddy understood
at once because he was an Irishman. One had been all his life a rogue;
the other had been born on an intelligent island. And so they
comprehended me with equal facility.
They departed on their errand, and when I turned I found myself in the
clutches of a maddened Doctor Chord.
"Monster," he screamed, "you have ordered him to be killed!"
"Whist," said I, "it would never do to order him to be killed. He is
too valuable."