At the appointed hour, as the clock of the Abbey was striking, they
gave three gentle knocks at the door of the house. It was
immediately opened by Tony, who held a candle in his hand, closed
the door quietly behind them, and then led them into a parlour.
"Well, Tony, I suppose all has gone well, as we have not heard from
you."
"There was nothing to tell you, sir, and, indeed, I have been
mightily busy. In the first place, I got two days' leave from the
courts, and went down myself, in a light cart, with the boys and
two men. That way I made sure that there should be no mistake as to
the houses the boys were to watch. The two men I sent on, ten miles
beyond the farthest tavern there to watch the road, and if any
horseman goes by tonight, to track him down.
"This evening I came here. I brought with me one of my comrades
from the courts, and we told the good woman the character of the
lodger we had seen leave the house a quarter of an hour before. She
almost fainted when we showed her our badges, and said we must
arrest him, on his return, as a notorious highwayman and breaker of
the laws. She exclaimed that her house would be ruined, and it took
some time to pacify her, by saying that we would manage the job so
quietly that no one in the house need know of it, and that we
would, if possible, arrange it so that the place of his arrest
should not be made public.
"At that, she at once consented to do all that we wished her. We
searched his room carefully, and found some watches, rings, and
other matters, that answered to the description of those stolen
from a coach that was stopped near Dorking, three weeks ago. My
mate has taken them away. As she was afraid that a scuffle in the
bedroom might attract the attention of the four other gentlemen who
are lodging here, I arranged that it should be done at the door. In
that case, if there was any inquiry in the morning, she could say
that it was some drunken fellow, who had come to the house by
mistake, and had tried to force his way in.
"So she put this parlour at our disposal, and, as I have got the
shutters up and the curtains drawn, there is no fear of his
noticing the light, for, as we may have some hours to wait, it is
more pleasant to have a candle, than to sit in the dark."
"Does she come down to let him in?" Harry asked.
"No, sir, the door is left on the latch. She says he finds his way
up to his room, in the dark, and the candle and a tinderbox are
always placed handy for him there. We will take our shoes off
presently, and, when we hear footsteps come up to the door and
stop, we will blow out the candle and steal out into the passage,
so as to catch him directly he closes the door. I have got
handcuffs here, some rope, and a gag."
"Very well, then. I will undertake the actual seizing of him,"
Charlie said. "You slip on the handcuffs, and you, Harry, if you
can find his throat in the dark, grip it pretty tightly, till Tony
can slip the gag into his mouth. Then he can light the candle
again, and we can then disarm and search him, fasten his legs, and
get him ready to put in the cart."
The hours passed slowly, although Tony did his best to divert them,
by telling stories of various arrests and captures in which he had
been concerned. The clock had just struck five, when they heard a
step coming up the quiet street.
"That is likely to be the man," Tony said. "It is about the hour we
expected him."
He blew out the candle and opened the door quietly, and they went
out into the passage. A moment later the step stopped at the door,
the latch clicked, and it was opened. A man entered, and closed the
door behind him. As he did so Charlie, who had marked his exact
position, made a step forward and threw his arms round him.
The man gave an exclamation of surprise and alarm, and then
struggled fiercely, but he was in the hands of one far stronger
than himself. A moment later, he felt that his assailant was not
alone, for he was grasped by the throat, and at the same time he
felt something cold close round his wrists. There was a sharp
click, and he knew that he was handcuffed.
Then a low voice said, "I arrest you, in the name of the queen, for
being concerned in the robbery of the Portsmouth coach at Dorking."
Then a gag was forced between his teeth. Bewildered at the
suddenness of the attack, he ceased to struggle, and remained
quiet, in the grasp of his captors, till there was the sound of the
striking of flint and steel hard by. Then Tony came out of the
parlour with a lighted candle, the highwayman was lifted into the
room, and the door was shut.
He then saw that his captors were three in number. There were two
young gentlemen, and a smaller man, who, as he looked at him, held
out a badge, and showed that he was an officer of the law. His
pistols and sword were removed, then his pockets were searched, and
two watches and three purses, with some rings and bracelets, were
taken out and laid on the table.
"It came off, you see," Tony said to Charlie.
"Well, Master Nicholson, to use one of your aliases, of which you
have, no doubt, a score or more, you may consider yourself under
arrest, not only for the robbery of the Portsmouth coach three
weeks ago, but of the North coach last evening."
The prisoner started. It seemed impossible to him that that affair
should be known yet, still less his connection with it.
"You know what that means?" Tony went on grimly. "Tyburn. Now I am
going to make you a little safer still. You have been a hard bird
to catch, and we don't mean to let you slip through our fingers
again."
So saying, he bound his arms closely to his side with a rope, and
then, with a shorter piece, fastened his ankles securely together.
"Now I will fetch the cart."
He had been gone but five minutes, when they heard a vehicle stop
at the door. The others lifted the highwayman by his shoulders and
feet, carried him out, and laid him in the cart. Tony closed the
door quietly behind them, and then jumped up by the side of the
driver, who at once started the horse at a brisk trot. They crossed
Westminster Bridge, and, after another ten minutes' drive, stopped
at a small house standing back from the road, in a garden of its
own.
"We will carry him in, Tony," Charlie said, "if you will get the
door open."
They carried him in through the door, at which a woman was
standing, into a room, where they saw, to their satisfaction, a
blazing fire. The prisoner was laid down on the ground. Leaving him
to himself, Charlie and his friends sat down to the table, which
was laid in readiness. Two cold chickens, and ham, and bread had
been placed on it.
"Now, Tony, sit down. You must be as hungry as we are."
"Thank you, gentlemen. I am going to have my breakfast in the
kitchen, with my wife."
As he spoke, the woman came in with two large tankards full of
steaming liquid, whose odour at once proclaimed it to be spiced
ale.
"Well, wife, we have done a good night's work," Tony said.
"A good night's work for all of us," Charlie put in. "Your husband
has done us an immense service, Mrs. Peters, and, when our fathers
come to their own again, they will not forget the service he has
rendered us."
When they had made a hearty meal, Tony was called in again.
"Now, Tony, we will proceed to business. You have got pen and ink
and paper, I suppose?"
"I have everything ready, sir. I will clear away this table, so as
to have all in order."
When this was done, the highwayman was lifted up and placed in a
chair, and the gag removed from his mouth.
"You don't remember us, I suppose, my man?" Charlie began. "The
last time I saw you was when I brought my stick down on your head,
when you were listening outside a window at Lynnwood."
An exclamation of surprise broke from the prisoner.
"Yes, I am Charlie Carstairs, and this gentleman is Harry Jervoise.
By the way, I have made a mistake. I have seen you twice since
then. The first time was in a wayside tavern, some twelve miles
beyond Barnet, nine days ago. The second time was at another tavern
in Barnet. You will remember that a mischievous boy threw a stone,
and broke one of the lattice panes of the window, where you were
sitting talking over this little affair of the North coach."
A deep execration broke from the lips of the highwayman.
"Now you see how we know all about it," Charlie went on. "Now, it
entirely depends on yourself whether, in the course of another
hour, we shall hand you over to a magistrate, as the leader of the
gang who robbed the North coach, and took part in the robbery near
Dorking--we have found some of the watches and other plunder in
your bedroom--or whether you escape trial for these offences. You
may be wanted for other, similar affairs."
"Yes, sir," Tony put in. "Now I see him, he answers exactly to the
description of a man the officers have been in search of, for a
long time. He goes by the name of Dick Cureton, and has been
engaged in at least a dozen highway robberies, to my knowledge."
"You see," Charlie went on, "there is no doubt whatever what will
happen, if we hand you over to the officers. You will be hung at
Tyburn, to a moral certainty. There is no getting out of that.
"Now, on the other hand, you have the alternative of making a clean
breast of your dealings with John Dormay, of how he put you at
Lynnwood to act as a spy, how you hid those two letters he gave you
in my father's cabinet, and how he taught you the lying story you
afterwards told before the magistrates at Lancaster. After having
this story written down, you will sign it in the presence of this
officer and his wife, and you will also repeat that story before
any tribunal before which you may be brought.
"I don't know whether this is a hanging matter, but, at any rate, I
can promise that you shall not be hung for it. The Duke of
Marlborough has taken the matter in hand, and will, I have no
doubt, be able to obtain for you some lesser punishment, if you
make a clean breast of it. I don't say that you will be let free.
You are too dangerous a man for that. But, at any rate, your
punishment will not be a heavy one--perhaps nothing worse than
agreeing to serve in the army. You understand that, in that case,
nothing whatever will be said as to your being Dick Cureton, or of
your connection with these last coach robberies. You will appear
before the court simply as Robert Nicholson, who, having met
Captain Jervoise and myself, felt constrained to confess the
grievous wrong he did to our fathers, and other gentlemen, at the
bidding of, and for money received from, John Dormay."
"I do not need any time to make up my mind," the highwayman said.
"I am certainly not going to be hung for the advantage of John
Dormay, who has paid me poorly enough, considering that it was
through me that he came into a fine estate. I take it that you give
me your word of honour, that if I make a clean breast of it, and
stick to my story afterwards, this other business shall not be
brought up against me."
"Yes, we both promise that on our word of honour."
"Very well then; here goes."
The story he told was in precise accordance with the suspicions
that his hearers had entertained. He had been tramping through the
country, sometimes pilfering, sometimes taking money as a footpad.
He had, one day, met John Dormay and demanded his money. He was
armed only with a heavy cudgel, and thought Dormay was defenceless.
The latter, however, produced a pistol from his pocket, and
compelled him to drop his stick; and then, taking him by the
collar, made him walk to his house. He had asked him questions as
to his previous life, and had then given him the choice of going to
jail, or of acting under his instructions, in which case he would
be well rewarded. Naturally, he had chosen the second alternative.
And, having him completely under his thumb, John Dormay had made
him sign a paper, acknowledging his attempt at highway robbery upon
him.
The rest of the story was already known to his hearers. He had,
several times, overheard the conversations in the dining room, but
had gathered nothing beyond talk of what would be done, if the
Pretender came over. John Dormay had taught him the story of the
assassination plot, and had given him the letters to hide. He now
swore that the whole story was false, and had been told entirely at
the dictation of John Dormay, and from fear of the consequence to
himself, if he refused to obey his orders.
When he had finished, Tony's wife was called in, and she made her
mark, and her husband signed his name, as witnesses to the
signature of Robert Nicholson.
"Now, I hope I may have something to eat," the man said,
recklessly. "I am ready to tell my story to whomsoever you like,
but am not ready to be starved."
"Give him food, Tony," Charlie said, "and keep a sharp lookout
after him. We will go across, and show this paper to the duke."
"I will bring the matter, at once, before the council," the general
said, when Charlie gave him the document, and briefly stated its
contents. "There is a meeting at three o'clock today. I shall see
the queen previously, and will get her to interest herself in the
matter, and to urge that justice shall be done without any delay. I
will arrange that the man shall be brought before the council, at
the earliest date possible. If you will come here this evening, I
may be able to tell you more. Come at eight. I shall be in then to
dress, as I take supper at the palace, at nine."
"I have ventured to promise the man that he shall not be hung, my
lord."
"You were safe in doing so. The rogue deserves the pillory or
branding, but, as he was almost forced into it, and was the mere
instrument in the hands of another, it is not a case for hanging
him. He might be shipped off to the plantations as a rogue and a
vagabond.
"What are you smiling at?"
"I was thinking, sir, that, as you said there were a good many of
that class in the army, the man might have the option of enlisting
given him."
"And so of getting shot in the Netherlands, instead of getting hung
at Tyburn, eh? Well, I will see what I can do."
At eight o'clock, they again presented themselves. The duke looked
at them critically.
"You will do," he said. "Put your cloaks on again, and come with
me. Where do you suppose that you are going?"
"Before the council, sir," Harry suggested.
"Bless me, you don't suppose that your business is so pressing,
that ministers have been summoned in haste to sit upon it. No, you
are going to sup with the queen. I told her your story this
afternoon. She was much interested in it, and when I informed her
that, young as you both were, you had fought behind Charles of
Sweden, in all his desperate battles, and that he had not only
promoted you to the rank of captain, but that he had, under his own
hand, given you a document expressing his satisfaction at your
conduct and bravery, she said that I must bring you to supper at
the palace. I told her that, being soldiers, you had brought with
you no clothes fit for appearance at court; but, as at little
gatherings there is no ceremony, she insisted that I should bring
you as you are.
"My wife Sarah went on half an hour ago, in her chair. There will
probably be two others, possibly Godolphin and Harley, but more
likely some courtier and his wife.
"You do not feel nervous, I hope? After being accustomed to chat
with Charles of Sweden, to say nothing of the Czar of Russia,
Carstairs, you need not feel afraid of Queen Anne, who is good
nature itself."
Nevertheless, both the young men felt nervous. After being
conducted up some private stairs, the duke led them into an
oak-panelled room, of comparatively small size, lighted by numerous
tapers, which displayed the rich hangings and furniture. A lady was
sitting by the fire. A tall, handsome woman, with a somewhat
imperious face, stood on the rug before her, talking to her, while
a pleasant-looking man, who by his appearance and manner might have
been taken for a country squire, was sitting opposite, playing with
the ears of a spaniel lying on his knee.
The tall lady moved aside, as they entered, and Charlie noticed a
little glance of affectionate welcome pass between her and the
duke--for the pair were devotedly attached to each other--then he
bowed to the seated lady.
"Madam," he said, "allow me to present to you the two young
officers, of whose bravery Charles of Sweden has written so
strongly, and whose parents have, with other gentlemen, been driven
from the land by villainy."
The young men bowed deeply. Anne held out her hand, and each in
turn, bending on one knee, raised it to his lips.
"There," she said, "let that be the beginning and end of ceremony.
This is not a court gathering, but a family meeting. I want to hear
your stories, and I want you, for the time, to forget that I am
Anne of England. I know that your fathers have always been faithful
to our house, and I hope that their sons will, ere long, do as good
service for me as they have done for a foreign prince.
"You have not seen these gentlemen yet, Sarah?"
"No, my husband has kept them to himself."
"I have had but little time to give them, Sarah, and wanted it all,
to question them on the Swedish modes of warfare."
"And you thought I should be an interruption?
"I am glad to meet you both, nevertheless. Since my husband likes
you, I am sure to do so;" and she smiled pleasantly, as she gave a
hand to each.
They were then introduced to the Prince Consort, George of Denmark.
At this moment, supper was announced. The queen and the duchess
went in together, followed by the four gentlemen.
"Lord Godolphin and Mr. Harley were to have been of the party
tonight," the queen said, as she took her seat at table, "but I put
them off till tomorrow, as I wanted to hear these gentlemen's
story."
During the meal, the conversation was gay. As soon as the last dish
was removed, the party returned to the other room. Then the queen
called upon the young men to tell their story.
Charlie began, and related up to the time when he had aided in the
rescue of his father from the hands of his escort. Harry told the
story of their military experiences, and then Charlie related his
narrow escape at Warsaw, his adventure with the brigands, and the
fight with the wolves.
"That is the most exciting of all," the queen said.
"I think that even you, general, would rather have gone through the
battle of Narva, than have spent that night among the wolves."
"That would I, indeed, madam, and I doubt if I should have got as
well through it as Captain Carstairs did. I am sure, madam, you
will agree with me, that these young gentlemen ought to be fighting
under our flag, rather than that of Sweden. There is no blame to
them, for they were most unjustly driven from the country; but I
hope that, by Monday at this time, I shall have the pleasure of
presenting a document for your majesty's signature, stating that,
in the opinion of the council, a very grave miscarriage of justice
has taken place; and that the gentlemen, whose estates were four
years ago confiscated, are proved to be innocent of the crime of
which they were accused, and are true and faithful subjects of your
majesty; and that the proceedings against them are hereby quashed,
and their estates restored to them.
"I had the honour of relating to you, this afternoon, the manner in
which these gentlemen have succeeded in bringing the truth to
light."
Shortly afterwards, the party broke up, the queen speaking most
graciously to each of the young men.
On Monday morning, they received a summons to appear before the
council, at two o'clock in the afternoon, and to produce one Robert
Nicholson, whose evidence was required in a matter of moment. They
hired a carriage, and took the highwayman with them to Saint
James's, and were conducted to the council chamber; where they
found Lord Godolphin, the Marquis of Normanby, Mr. Harley, and the
Duke of Marlborough, together with two judges, before whom the
depositions, in the case of Sir Marmaduke Carstairs and his
friends, had been laid.
Lord Normanby, as privy seal, took the chair, and briefly said
that, having heard there had been a grievous miscarriage of
justice, he had summoned them to hear important evidence which was
produced by Captains Carstairs and Jervoise, officers in the
service of the king of Sweden.
"What have you to say, Captain Carstairs?"
"I have, sir, only to testify that this man, who stands beside me,
is Robert Nicholson, who was in my father's employment for two
years, and was, I believe, the principal witness against him.
Captain Jervoise can also testify to his identity. I now produce
the confession, voluntarily made by this man, and signed in the
presence of witnesses."
He handed in the confession, which was read aloud by a clerk
standing at the lower end of the table. A murmur of indignation
arose from the council, as he concluded.
"You have acted the part of a base villain," Lord Normanby said to
Nicholson. "Hanging would be too good for such a caitiff. What
induced you to make this confession?"
"I have long repented my conduct," the man said. "I was forced into
acting as I did, by John Dormay, who might have had me hung for
highway robbery. I would long ago have told the truth, had I known
where to find the gentlemen I have injured; and, meeting them by
chance the other day, I resolved upon making a clean breast of it,
and to take what punishment your lordships may think proper;
hoping, however, for your clemency, on account of the fact that I
was driven to act in the way I did."
One of the judges, who had the former depositions before him, asked
him several questions as to the manner in which he had put the
papers into Sir Marmaduke's cabinet.
He replied that he found the key in a vase on the mantel, and after
trying several locks with it, found that it fitted the cabinet.
"His statement agrees, my lords," the judge said, "with that made
by Sir Marmaduke Carstairs in his examinations. He then said that
he could not account for the papers being in his cabinet, for it
was never unlocked, and that he kept the key in a vase on the
mantel, where none would be likely to look for it."
In a short time, all present were requested to withdraw, but in
less than five minutes they were again called in.
"Gentlemen," Lord Normanby said to the young officers, "I have
pleasure in informing you, that the council are of opinion that the
innocence of your fathers and friends, of the foul offence of which
they were charged, is clearly proven; and that they have decided
that the sentence passed against them, in their absence, shall be
quashed. They will also recommend, to her majesty, that the
sentence of confiscation against them all shall be reversed.
"As to you, sir, seeing that you have, however tardily, endeavoured
to undo the evil you have caused, we are disposed to deal
leniently, and, at the request of the Duke of Marlborough, we have
agreed, if you are ready to leave the country and enlist at once,
as a soldier in the army of Flanders, and there to expiate your
fault by fighting in the service of your country, we will not
recommend that any proceedings shall be taken against you. But if,
at any time, you return hither, save as a soldier with a report of
good conduct, this affair will be revived, and you will receive the
full punishment you deserve.
"For the present you will be lodged in prison, as you will be
needed to give evidence, when the matter of John Dormay comes up
for hearing."
Nicholson was at once removed in custody. The two young officers
retired, an usher bringing them a whispered message, from
Marlborough, that they had better not wait to see him, as the
council might sit for some time longer; but that, if they would
call at his house at five o'clock, after his official reception, he
would see them.
"This is more than we could have hoped for," Harry said, as they
left Saint James's. "A fortnight ago, although I had no intention
of giving up the search, I began to think that our chances of ever
setting eyes on that rascal were of the slightest; and now
everything has come right. The man has been found. He has been made
to confess the whole matter. The case has been heard by the
council. Our fathers are free to return to England, and their
estates are restored to them; at least, the council recommends the
queen, and we know the queen is ready to sign. So that it is as
good as done."
"It seems too good to be true."
"It does, indeed, Charlie. They will be delighted across the water.
I don't think my father counted, at all, upon our finding
Nicholson, or of our getting him to confess; but I think he had
hoped that the duke would interest himself to get an order, that no
further proceedings should be taken in the matter of the alleged
plot. That would have permitted them to return to England. He spoke
to me, several times, of his knowledge of the duke when he was a
young man; but Churchill, he said, was a time server, and has
certainly changed his politics several times; and, if a man is
fickle in politics, he may be so in his friendships. It was a great
many years since they had met, and Marlborough might not have been
inclined to acknowledge one charged with so serious a crime.
"But, as he said to me before I started, matters have changed since
the death of William. Marlborough stands far higher, with Anne,
than he did with William. His leanings have certainly been, all
along, Jacobite, and, now that he and the Tories are in power, and
the Whigs are out of favour, Marlborough could, if he chose, do
very much for us. It is no longer a crime to be a Jacobite, and
indeed, they say that the Tories are intending to upset the act of
succession, and bring in a fresh one, making James Stuart the
successor to Anne.
"Still, even if we had succeeded so far, by Marlborough's
influence, that our fathers could have returned to England without
fear of being tried for their lives, I do not think that either of
them would have come, so long as the charge of having been
concerned in an assassination plot was hanging over them.
"Now that they are cleared, and can come back with honour, it will
be different, altogether. It will be glorious news for them. Of
course, we shall start as soon as we get the official communication
that the estates are restored. We shall only have to go back to
them, for, as you know, yours is the only estate that has been
granted to anyone else. The others were put up for sale, but no one
would bid for them, as the title deeds would have been worth
nothing if King James came over. So they have only been let to
farmers, and we can walk straight in again, without dispossessing
anyone."
"I don't know what to do about John Dormay," Charlie said. "There
is no doubt that, from what the judge said, they will prosecute
him."
"So they ought to," Harry broke in. "He has striven, by false
swearing, to bring innocent men to the scaffold. Why, it is worse
than murder."
"I quite agree with you, Harry, and, if I were in your place, I
would say just as strongly as you do that he ought to be hung. But
you see, I am differently situated. The man is a kinsman of ours by
marriage. My cousin Celia has been always most kind to me, and is
my nearest relative after my father. She has been like an aunt,
and, indeed, did all she could to supply the place of a mother to
me; and I am sure my little sweetheart Ciceley has been like a
sister. This must have been a most terrible trial to them. It was a
bad day for cousin Celia when she married that scoundrel, and I am
sure that he has made her life a most unhappy one. Still, for their
sake, I would not see his villainy punished as it deserves, nor
indeed for our own, since the man is, to a certain extent, our
kinsman.
"Besides, Harry, as you must remember well enough, Ciceley and I,
in boy and girl fashion, used to say we should be some day husband
and wife, and I have never since seen anyone whom I would so soon
marry as my bonny little cousin; and if Ciceley is of the same
mind, maybe some day or other she may come to Lynnwood as its
mistress; but that could hardly be, if her father were hung for
attempting to swear away the life of mine."
"No, indeed, Charlie. I know how fond you were of your cousin."
"Indeed, Harry, there was a talk between my father and cousin
Celia, a few months before the troubles came, of a formal betrothal
between us, and, had it not been for the coolness between our
fathers, it would have taken place."
"Yes, I remember now your telling me about it, Charlie.
"Well, what is to be done? for I agree with you that, if possible,
John Dormay must escape from the punishment he deserves. But how is
it to be done?"
"Well, Harry, a week or two will make no difference to our fathers.
They will have no expectation of hearing from us, for a long time
to come. I should say it were best that I should go down and warn
him, and I shall be glad if you will go with me."
"Of course I will go," Harry said. "Indeed, it were best that the warning
came from me. The man is a villain, and a reckless one; and in his
passion, when he hears that his rascality is known, the prize for which
he schemed snatched from him, and his very life in danger, might even
seek to vent his rage and spite upon you. Now it is clear, Charlie, that
you could not very well kill a man, and afterwards marry his daughter.
The thing would be scarce seemly. But the fellow is no kinsman of mine.
He has grievously injured us, and I could kill him without the smallest
compunction, and thereby rid the world of a scoundrel, and you of a
prospective father-in-law of the most objectionable kind."
Charlie laughed.
"No, Harry; we will have no killing. We will go down and see him
together. We will let him know that the orders are probably already
on the road for his arrest, and that he had best lose not an hour,
but at once cross the water. I should not think that he would wish
to encumber himself with women, for I never thought he showed the
least affection to either his wife or daughter. At any rate, we
will see that he does not take them with him. I will tell him that,
if he goes, and goes alone, I will do my best to hush up the
matter; and that, so long as he remains abroad, the tale of his
villainy shall never be told; but that, if he returns, the
confession of Nicholson shall be published throughout the country,
even if no prosecution is brought against him."
When they called upon the duke, he shook them warmly by the hand.
"This parchment is the royal assent to the decision of the council,
that the estates of those inculpated in the alleged plot for the
assassination of the late king should be forthwith restored to
them, it having been clearly proved that they have been falsely
accused of the said crime, and that her majesty is satisfied that
these gentlemen are her true and loyal subjects.
"I think I may say," the duke continued with a smile, "that no
affair of state has ever been so promptly conducted and carried
through."
"We feel how deeply indebted we are, for our good fortune, to your
kindness, your grace," Charlie said. "We know that, but for you,
months might have elapsed, even years, before we could have
obtained such a result, even after we had the confession of
Nicholson in our hands."
"I am glad, in every way, to have been able to bring this about,"
the duke said. "In the first place, because I have been able to
right a villainous piece of injustice; in the second, because those
injured were loyal gentlemen, with no fault save their steadfast
adherence to the cause of the Stuarts; and lastly, because one of
these gentlemen was my own good friend, Mat Jervoise, of whose
company I have so many pleasant recollections.
"I hope that, as soon as you have informed your fathers that their
names are cleared, and their property restored, you will think of
what I said, and will decide to quit the service of Sweden, and
enter that of your queen.
"An officer fighting for a foreign monarch is, after all, but a
soldier of fortune, however valiantly he fights. He is fighting for
a cause that is not his own, and, though he may win rewards and
honours, he has not the satisfaction that all must feel who have
risked their lives, not for gold, but in the service of their
country. But I do not want any answer from you on that head now. It
is a matter for you to decide upon after due thought. I only say
that I shall go out, early in the spring, to take command of the
army; and that, if you present yourselves to me before I leave, I
shall be glad to appoint you on my personal staff, with the same
rank you now hold.
"You can now leave the country without any farther trouble. As to
the affair of the man Dormay, a messenger has been sent off, this
afternoon, with an order to the magistrates at Lancaster, to arrest
him on the charge of suborning false evidence, by which the lives
of some of her majesty's subjects were endangered; and of forging
letters whereby such evil designs might be furthered. I do not
suppose I shall see you again before you sail, for tomorrow we go
down to our country place, and may remain there some weeks. I may
say that it was the desire to get your affair finished, before we
left town, that conduced somewhat to the speed with which it has
been carried through."
After again thanking the duke most warmly for his kindness, and
saying that they would lay his offer before their fathers, and that
their own inclinations were altogether in favour of accepting it,
the young men took their leave.
"It is unfortunate about Dormay."
"Most unfortunate," Harry said.
"I think, if we start tomorrow morning, Harry, we shall be in time.
There is no reason why the messenger should travel at any
extraordinary speed, and, as he may be detained at Lancaster, and
some delay may arise before officers are sent up to Lynnwood to
make the arrest, we may be in time.
"We must take a note of the date. It is one we shall remember all
our lives. It is the 25th of November, and we will keep it up as a
day of festivity and rejoicing, as long as we live."
"That will we," Harry agreed. "It shall be the occasion of an
annual gathering of those who got into trouble from those suppers
at Sir Marmaduke's. I fancy the others are all in France, but their
friends will surely be able to let them know, as soon as they hear
the good news.
"I think we shall have a stormy ride tomorrow. The sky looks very
wild and threatening."
"It does, indeed; and the wind has got up very much, in the last
hour.''
"Yes, we are going to have a storm, beyond all doubt."
The wind got up hourly, and when, before going to bed, they went to
pass an hour at a tavern, they had difficulty in making their way
against it. Several times in the night they were awoke by the
gusts, which shook the whole house, and they heard the crashing of
falling chimney pots above the din of the gale.
They had arranged to start as soon as it was light, and had, the
evening before, been to a posting inn, and engaged a carriage with
four horses for the journey down to Lancashire.
"There is no starting today, gentlemen," the landlord said, as they
went down to breakfast by candlelight. "I have looked out, and the
street is strewn with chimney pots and tiles. Never do I remember
such a gale, and hour by hour it seems to get worse. Why, it is
dangerous to go across the street."
"Well, we must try," Charlie said, "whatever the weather. It is a
matter of almost life and death."
"Well, gentlemen, you must please yourselves, but I am mistaken if
any horse keeper will let his animals out, on such a day as this."
As soon as they had eaten their breakfasts, they wrapped themselves
up in their cloaks, pressed their hats over their heads, and
sallied out. It was not until they were in the streets that they
realized how great was the force of the gale. Not only were the
streets strewn with tiles and fragments of chimney pots, but there
was light enough for them to see that many of the upper windows of
the houses had been blown in by the force of the wind. Tiles flew
about like leaves in autumn, and occasionally gutters and sheets of
lead, stripped from the roofs, flew along with prodigious
swiftness.
"This is as bad as a pitched battle, Charlie. I would as lief be
struck by a cannonball as by one of those strips of lead."
"Well, we must risk it, Harry. We must make the attempt, anyhow."
It was with the greatest difficulty that they made their way along.
Although powerful young fellows, they were frequently obliged to
cling to the railings, to prevent themselves from being swept away
by the gusts, and they had more than one narrow escape from falling
chimneys. Although the distance they had to traverse was not more
than a quarter of a mile, it took them half an hour to accomplish
it.
The post master looked at them in surprise, as they entered his
office flushed and disordered.
"Why, gentlemen, you are not thinking of going on such a day as
this? It would be a sheer impossibility. Why, the carriage would be
blown over, and if it wasn't, no horses would face this wind."
"We would be willing to pay anything you may like to ask," Charlie
said.
"It ain't a question of money, sir. If you were to buy the four
horses and the carriage, you would be no nearer, for no post boy
would be mad enough to ride them; and, even supposing you got one
stage, which you never would do, you would have to buy horses
again, for no one would be fool enough to send his animals out. You
could not do it, sir. Why, I hear there are half a dozen houses,
within a dozen yards of this, that have been altogether unroofed,
and it is getting worse instead of better. If it goes on like this,
I doubt if there will be a steeple standing in London tomorrow.
"Listen to that!"
There was a tremendous crash, and, running out into the street,
they saw a mass of beams and tiles lying in the roadway--a house
two doors away had been completely unroofed. They felt that, in
such a storm, it was really impossible to proceed, and accordingly
returned to their lodgings, performing the distance in a fraction
of the time it had before taken them.
For some hours the gale continued to increase in fury. Not a soul
was to be seen in the streets. Occasional heavy crashes told of the
damage that was being wrought, and, at times, the house shook so
that it seemed as if it would fall.
Never was such a storm known in England. The damage done was
enormous. The shores were strewn with wrecks. Twelve ships of the
royal navy, with fifteen hundred men, were lost; and an enormous
number of merchant vessels. Many steeples, houses, and buildings of
all kinds were overthrown, and the damage, in London alone, was
estimated at a million pounds.
There were few who went to bed that night. Many thought that the
whole city would be destroyed. Towards morning, however, the fury
of the gale somewhat abated, and by nightfall the danger had
passed.
The next morning the two friends started, and posted down to
Lancashire. The journey was a long one. In many places the road was
completely blocked by fallen trees, and sometimes by the ruins of
houses and barns. In the former case, long detours had often to be
made through villainous roads, where the wheels sank almost to
their axles, and, in spite of the most liberal bribes to post boys
and post masters, the journey occupied four days longer than the
usual time.
At last, they reached the lodge gate of Lynnwood. A man came out
from the cottage. He was the same who had been there in Sir
Marmaduke's time.
Charlie jumped out of the post chaise.
"Why, Norman, don't you know me?"
The man looked hard at him.
"No, sir, I can't say as I do."
"What, not Charlie Carstairs?"
"Bless me, it is the young master!" the man said. "To think of my
not knowing you. But you have changed wonderful. Why, sir, I have
been thinking of you often and often, and most of all the last
three days, but I never thought of you like this."
"Why the last three days, Norman?"
"Haven't you heard the news, sir?"
"No, I have heard nothing. Captain Jervoise and I--my old friend,
you know, Norman--have posted all the way from London, and should
have been here six days ago, if it had not been for the storm."
"Well, sir, there is bad news; at least, I don't know whether you
will consider it bad. Most of the folk about here looks at it the
other way. But the man in there shot hisself, three days ago. A
magistrate, with some men from Lancaster, came over here. They say
it was to arrest him, but I don't know the rights of the case.
Anyhow, it is said they read some paper over to him, and then he
opened a drawer at the table where he was sitting, and pulled out a
pistol, and shot hisself before anyone could stop him.
"There have been bad goings here of late, Mr. Charles, very bad,
especially for the last year. He was not friends with his son, they
say, but the news of his death drove him to drink, worse than
before; and besides, there have been dicing, and all sorts of
goings on, and I doubt not but that the ladies have had a terrible
time of it. There were several men staying in the house, but they
all took themselves off, as soon as it was over, and there are only
the ladies there now. They will be glad enough to see you, I will
be bound."
Charlie was shocked; but at the same time, he could not but feel
that it was the best thing that could happen, and Harry freely
expressed himself to that effect.
"We won't take the carriage up to the house," Charlie said, after a
long pause. "Take the valises out, and bring them up to the house
presently, Norman."
He paid the postilion who had brought them from Lancaster, and
stood quiet until the carriage had driven off.
"I hope Sir Marmaduke is well, sir. We have missed him sorely
here."
"He was quite well when I saw him, ten weeks ago. I hope he will be
here before long. I am happy to say that his innocence of the
charge brought against him has been proved, and his estates, and
those of Mr. Jervoise and the other gentlemen, have been restored
by the queen."
"That is good news, indeed, sir," the man exclaimed. "The best I
have heard for many a long year. Everyone about here will go wild
with joy."
"Then don't mention it at present, Norman. Any rejoicings would be
unseemly, while John Dormay is lying dead there."
"Shall I go up with you, Charlie, or will you go alone?" Harry
asked. "Of course, there are some horses here, and you could lend
me one to drive over to our own place."
"You shall do that presently, Harry, and tell them the news. But
come in now. You know my cousin and Ciceley. It will be all the
better that you should go in with me."
His cousin received Charlie with a quiet pleasure. She was greatly
changed since he had seen her last, and her face showed that she
had suffered greatly. Ciceley had grown into a young woman, and met
him with delight. Both were pleased to see Harry.
"We were talking of you but now, Charlie," Mrs. Dormay said.
"Ciceley and I agreed that we would remove at once to our old
place, and that this should be kept up for you, should you at any
time be able to return. Now that Queen Anne is on the throne, and
the Tories are in power, we hoped that you, at least, would ere
long be permitted to return. How is your dear father?"
"He is well, cousin, and will, I trust, be here ere long. Our
innocence of the charge has been proved, the proceedings against us
quashed, and the Act of Confiscation against my father, Mr.
Jervoise, and the others reversed."
"Thank God for that," Mrs. Dormay said earnestly, and Ciceley gave
an exclamation of pleasure. "That accounts, then, for what has
happened here.
"I do not want to talk about it, Charlie. You may imagine how
Ciceley and I have suffered. But he was my husband, spare him for
my sake."
"I will never allude to the subject again, cousin," Charlie said.
"But I must tell you that Harry and I have posted down from London,
in hopes of being in time to warn him, and enable him to escape. I
need not say we did so because he was your husband, and Ciceley's
father."
Harry then turned the subject, by a remark as to the effects of the
storm. Then Ciceley asked questions as to their life abroad, and
there was so much to tell, and to listen to, that even Mrs.
Dormay's face brightened. Harry willingly allowed himself to be
persuaded to remain for the night, and to ride over to his place in
the morning.
The funeral took place two days later. Charlie went as sole
mourner.
"He was my kinsman," he said to Harry, "and, though I can pretend
no sorrow at his death, my attendance at the funeral will do
something towards stopping talk, and will make it easier for my
cousin."
The next day, Mrs. Dormay and Ciceley returned to Rockley, whose
tenant had fortunately left a few weeks before. Charlie and Harry
both went over with them, and stayed for three or four days, and
they were glad to see that Mrs. Dormay seemed to be shaking off the
weight of her trouble, and was looking more like her old self.
They then rode to Lancaster, and returned to London by coach. They
crossed to Gottenburg by the first vessel that was sailing, and Sir
Marmaduke was delighted to hear the success of their mission, and
that he was at liberty to return at once, as master of Lynnwood.
"Luck favoured you somewhat, Charlie, in throwing that vagabond in
your way, but for all else we have to thank you both, for the
manner in which you have carried the affair out, and captured your
fox. As for John Dormay, 'tis the best thing that could have
happened. I have often thought it over, while you have been away,
and have said to myself that the best settlement of the business
would be that you, Harry, when you obtained proofs, should go down,
confront him publicly, and charge him with his treachery, force him
to draw, and then run him through the body. Charlie would, of
course, have been the proper person, in my absence, so to settle
the matter, but he could not well have killed my cousin's husband,
and it would have added to the scandal.
"However, the way it has turned out is better altogether. It will
be only a nine days' wonder. The man has been cut by all the
gentry, and when it is known that he shot himself to escape arrest,
many will say that it was a fit ending, and will trouble themselves
no more concerning him.
"You are coming back with me, I hope, Charlie. I have seen but
little of you for the last four years, and if you are, as you say,
going with the Duke of Marlborough to the war in the spring, I
don't want to lose sight of you again till then. You can surely
resign your commission here without going back to the army,
especially as you have leave of absence until the end of March."
Charlie hesitated.
"I think so, too," Harry said. "I know that the colonel told the
king the whole story, when he asked for leave for me and obtained
that paper. He told my father that the king was greatly interested,
and said: 'I hope the young fellows will succeed, though I suppose,
if they do, I shall lose two promising young officers.' So he will
not be surprised when he hears that we have resigned.
"As for me, I shall, of course, go on at once. My father will, I am
sure, be delighted to return home. The hardships have told upon him
a good deal, and he has said several times, of late, how much he
wished he could see his way to retiring. I think, too, he will
gladly consent to my entering our own service, instead of that of
Sweden. He would not have done so, I am sure, had William been
still on the throne. Now it is altogether different."
"Well, Harry, if you do see the king, as it is possible you may do,
or if you do not, you might speak to the colonel, and ask him, in
my name, to express to Charles my regret at leaving his service, in
which I have been so well treated, and say how much I feel the
kindly interest that his majesty has been pleased to take in me. If
there had been any chance of the war coming to an end shortly, I
should have remained to see it out; but, now that the Polish
business may be considered finished, it will be continued with
Russia, and may go on for years, for the czar is just as obstinate
and determined as Charles himself."
Accordingly, the next morning, Charlie sent in the formal
resignation of his commission to the war minister at Stockholm, and
Harry left by ship for Revel. Sir Marmaduke placed his business
affairs in the hands of a Scotch merchant at Gottenburg, with
instructions to call in the money he had lent on mortgage, and, two
days later, took passage with Charlie for Hull, whence they posted
across the country to Lancaster, and then drove to Lynnwood.
As soon as the news spread that Sir Marmaduke had returned, the
church bells rang a joyous peal, bonfires were lighted, the tenants
flocked in to greet him, and the gentry for miles round rode over
to welcome and congratulate him.
The next morning he and Charlie rode over to Rockley.
"Oh, Marmaduke," cried Celia, "I am happy indeed to know that you
are back again. I have never known a day's happiness since you
went."
"Well, don't let us think any more about it, Celia," Sir Marmaduke
said, as he kissed her tenderly. "Let us look on it all as an ugly
dream. It has not been without its advantages, as far as we are
concerned. It has taken me out of myself, and broadened my view of
things. I have not had at all an unpleasant time of it in Sweden,
and shall enjoy my home all the more, now that I have been away
from it for a while. As to Charlie, it has made a man of him. He
has gained a great deal of credit, and had opportunities of showing
that he is made of good stuff; and now he enters upon life with
every advantage, and has a start, indeed, such as very few young
fellows can have. He enters our army as a captain, under the eye of
Marlborough himself, with a reputation gained under that of the
greatest soldier in Europe.
"So we have no reason to regret the past, cousin, and on that score
you have no cause for grief. As to the future, I trust that it will
be bright for both of us, and I think," he added meaningly, "our
former plans for our children are likely to be some day realized."
Four years later, indeed, the union that both parents had at heart
took place, during one of the pauses of the fierce struggle between
the British forces under Marlborough, and the French. At Blenheim,
Ramillies, and Oudenarde, and in several long and toilsome sieges,
Charlie had distinguished himself greatly, and was regarded by
Marlborough as one of the most energetic and trustworthy of his
officers. He had been twice severely wounded, and had gained the
rank of colonel. Harry Jervoise--who had had a leg shot away, below
the knee, by a cannonball at Ramillies, and had then left the army
with the rank of major--was, on the same day as his friend, married
to the daughter of one of the gentlemen who had been driven into
exile with his father.
In the spring Charlie again joined the army, and commanded a
brigade in the desperate struggle on the hill of Malplaquet, one of
the hardest fought battles in the history of war. Peace was made
shortly afterwards, and, at the reduction of the army that
followed, he went on half pay, and settled down for life at
Lynnwood, where Tony Peters and his wife had, at the death of the
former occupant of the lodge, been established.
When Harry Jervoise returned to the Swedish headquarters, with the
news that his father was cleared, he was the bearer of a very
handsome present from Charlie to his faithful servant Stanislas,
who had, on their return from Poland, been at once employed by
Count Piper on other service.
When, years afterwards, the young Pretender marched south with the
Highland clans, neither Charlie nor Harry were among the gentlemen
who joined him. He had their good wishes, but, having served in the
British army, they felt that they could not join the movement in
arms against the British crown; and indeed, the strong Jacobite
feelings of their youth had been greatly softened down by their
contact with the world, and they had learned to doubt much whether
the restoration of the Stuarts would tend, in any way, to the
benefit or prosperity of Britain.
They felt all the more obliged to stand aloof from the struggle,
inasmuch as both had sons, in the army, that had fought valiantly
against the French at Dettingen and Fontenoy. The families always
remained united in the closest friendship, and more than one
marriage took place between the children of Charlie Carstairs and
Harry Jervoise.