THE HALF-WAY HOUSE AGAIN.
I had previously given orders that my horse should be kept ready
saddled in the stable, and I now bade the servant bring it round to
the door.
"Nay, there's no need to hurry," said Elmscott comfortably, throwing
his legs across a chair. "Marston will never start before the
morning."
"He has started," I replied. "He has seven hours to the good already.
He started between three and four of the afternoon."
"But you were to follow him," he exclaimed, starting up. "You knew the
road he was going. You were to follow him."
"He slipped through my fingers," said I, with some shame, for Elmscott
was regarding me with the same doubtful look which I had noticed so
frequently upon Jack Larke's face. "And as for knowing his road, 'twas
a mere guess that flashed on me at the moment of your arrival."
"Well, well," said Elmscott, with a shrug, "order some supper, and if
you can lend me a horse we will follow in half an hour."
Udal fetched a capon and a bottle of canary from the larder, and
together we made short work of the meal. For, in truth, I was no less
famished than Elmscott, though it needed his appetite to remind me of
the fact. Meanwhile, I related in what manner Marston had escaped me,
and handed him the letter which the servant had delivered to me in the
Lincoln's Inn Fields.
"In a bale of carpets!" cried Elmscott, with a fit of laughter which
promised to choke him. "Gadsbud, but the fellow deserves to win! Well
wrapped up! Morrice, Morrice, I fear me he'll trip up your heels!"
Elmscott's hilarity, it may easily be understood, had little in it
which could commend it to me, and I asked him abruptly by what means
he had discovered that the Countess Lukstein was visiting in Bristol.
"I'll tell you that as we go," said he, with a mouth full of capon.
"At present I have but one object, to fill my stomach."
After we had set forth, which we did a short while before
midnight--for I heard a clock tell that hour as we rode through the
village of Knightsbridge--he explained how the conjecture had grown up
in his mind.
"Marston came to you in the early morning, a week after the Countess
had left London. He was muddied and soiled, as though he had ridden
hard all night. In fact, he told you as much himself, and gave you the
reason: that he had been fighting out his battle with himself. I
reasoned, therefore, that he had only heard of this secret, whatever
it may be, which put you at his mercy, the evening before. Now that
information came from his sister. It concerned Countess Lukstein. Lady
Tracy, you told me, for some reason feared the Countess. I argued then
that it could only be this fear which made her write to her brother.
But then she had been in England a month already. How was it that she
had not revealed her anxiety before? And further, how was it that
Marston knew what you and every one else was ignorant of--where
Countess Lukstein was staying? Lady Tracy, I was aware, had gone down
to the family estate near Bristol; and I inferred in consequence that
she had seen the Countess in the neighbourhood, that her alarm had
been increased by the sight, and that she had promptly communicated
her fears to her brother; which fears Marston made use of as a weapon
against you. The period of Countess Lukstein's departure jumped most
aptly with my conjecture, and I thought it would be worth while to
ride to Bristol and discover the truth."
The notion seemed to me, upon his recounting it, so reasonable and
clear that I wondered why it had never occurred to me, and expressed
as much to Elmscott.
He laughed in reply.
"A man in love," said he, "is ever a damned fool. He smothers his mind
in a petticoat."
The night was very open, the moon being in the last quarter, and the
road, from the dry summer, much harder than when I had travelled over
it in the previous year; so that we made a good pace, and drew rein
before the "Golden Crown" at Newbury about seven of the morning. There
we discovered that two travellers had arrived at the inn a little
after midnight with their horses very wearied; but, since Thursday was
market-day, and the inn consequently full, they had remained but a
little while to water their beasts, and had then pushed on towards
Hungerford. Elmscott was for breakfasting at the "Golden Crown," but I
bethought me that Hungerford was but nine miles distant, and that
Marston was most like to have lain the night there. Consequently, if
we pressed forward with all speed, there was a good chance that we
might overtake my rival or ever he had started from the town; in which
case Elmscott, at all events, would be able to take his meal at his
leisure. To this view my companion assented, though with some
reluctance, and we set off afresh across Wickham Heath. In a short
time we came in view of the "Half-way House," and I related to
Elmscott my adventure with the landlord. As we rode past it, however,
I perceived the worthy man going towards the stable with a bucket of
water in his hand, and I hastily reined up.
"What is it?" asked Elmscott.
"The fellow has no horses of his own," I replied. "It follows he must
needs have guests."
I dismounted as I spoke, and hailed the man.
"Potatoe!" I cried to him.
For a moment he looked at me in amazement, and then:
"Dang it!" he shouted. "The play-actor!" And he dropped the bucket,
and ran towards me doubling his fists.
"I have a pass-word for you," I said, when he was near. "It lags a
year behind the time, it's true--Wastwater. So you see the mare was
meant for me no less than your slugs."
He stopped, and answered doggedly:
"Well, 'twas your fault, master. You should have passed the word. The
mare was left with me in strict trust, and you were ready enough with
your pistol to make an honest man believe you meant no good."
Elmscott broke in impatiently upon his apology with a demand for
breakfast. His wife, the landlord assured us, was preparing breakfast
even now for two gentlemen who had come over-night, and we might join
them if they had no objection to our company. I asked him at what hour
these gentlemen had ridden up to the inn, and he answered about one of
the morning. I could not repress an exclamation of joy. Elmscott gave
me a warning look and dismounted; he bade the landlord see the horses
groomed and fed, and joined me in the road.
"Their faces will be a fine sight," said he, rubbing his hands, "when
we take our seats at the table. A guinea-piece will be white in
comparison." And he fell to devising plans by which our surprise might
produce the most startling effect.
Strangely enough, it occurred to neither of us at the time that the
surest method of outwitting Marston was to leave him undisturbed to
his breakfast and ride forward to Bristol. But during these last days
the anxiety and tension of my mind had so fanned my hatred of the man,
that I could think of nothing but crossing swords with him. We were
both, in a word, absorbed in a single quest; from wishing to outstrip,
we had come to wish merely to overtake.
Elmscott gave orders to the innkeeper that he should inform us as soon
as the two travellers were set down to their meal; and for the space
of half an hour we strolled up and down, keeping the inn ever within
our view. At the end of that time I perceived a cloud of dust at a
bend of the road in the direction of Hungerford. It came rolling
towards us, and we saw that it was raised by a berlin which was drawn
at a great speed by six horses.
"They travel early," said Elmscott carelessly. I looked at the coach
again, but this time with more attention.
"Quick!" I cried of a sudden, and drew Elmscott through an opening in
the hedge into the field that bordered the road. The next moment the
berlin dashed by.
"Did you see?" I asked. "Otto Krax was on the box."
"Ay!" he answered. "And Countess Lukstein within the carriage. What
takes her back so fast, I wonder? She will be in London two days
before her time."
We came out again from behind the hedge, and watched the carriage
dwindling to a speck along the road.
"If you will, Morrice," said my cousin, with a great reluctance, "you
can let Marston journey to Bristol, and yourself follow the Countess
to town."
"Nay!" said I shortly. "I have a mind to settle my accounts with
Marston, and not later than this morning."
He brightened wonderfully at the words.
"'Twere indeed more than a pity to miss so promising an occasion. But
as I am your Mentor for the nonce, I deemed it right to mention the
alternative--though I should have thought the less of you had you
taken my advice. Here comes the landlord to summon us to breakfast."
We followed him along the passage towards the kitchen. The door stood
half-opened, and peeping through the crack at the hinges, we could see
Marston and his friend seated at a table.
"Gentlemen," said Elmscott, stepping in with the politest bow, "will
you allow two friends to join your repast?"
Marston was in the act of raising a tankard to his lips; but save that
his face turned a shade paler, and his hand trembled so that a few
drops of the wine were spilled upon the cloth, he betrayed none of the
disappointment which my cousin had fondly anticipated. He looked at us
steadily for a second, and then drained the tankard. His companion--a
Mr. Cuthbert Cliffe, with whom both Elmscott and myself were
acquainted--rose from his seat and welcomed us heartily. It was
evident that he was in the dark as to the object of our journey. We
seated ourselves opposite them on the other side of the table.
Elmscott was somewhat dashed by the prosaic nature of the reception,
and seemed at a loss how to broach the subject of the duel, when
Marston suddenly hissed at me:
"How the devil came you here?"
"On a magic carpet," replied Elmscott smoothly. "Like the Arabian, we
came upon a magic carpet."
Marston rose from the table and walked to the fireplace, where he
stood kicking the logs with the toe of his boot, and laughing to
himself in a short, affected way, as men are used who seek to cover up
a mortification. Then he turned again to me.
"Very well," he said, with a nod, "and the sooner the better. If Lord
Elmscott and Mr. Cliffe will arrange the details, I am entirely at
your service."
With that he set his hat carelessly on his head, and sauntered out of
the room. Mr. Cliffe looked at me in surprise.
"It is an old-standing quarrel between Mr. Buckler and your friend,"
Elmscott explained, "but certain matters, of which we need not speak,
have brought it to a head. Your friend would fain have deferred the
settlement for another week, but Mr. Buckler's engagements forbade the
delay."
So far he had got when a suspicion flashed into my head. Leaving
Elmscott to arrange the encounter with Mr. Cliffe, I hurried down the
passage and out on to the road. On neither side was Marston to be
seen, but I perceived that the stable door stood open. I looked
quickly to the priming of my pistol--for, knowing that the Great West
Road was infested by footpads and highwaymen, we had armed ourselves
with some care before leaving London--and took my station in the
middle of the way. Another minute and I should have been too late; for
Marston dashed out of the stable door, already mounted upon his horse.
He drove his spurs into its flanks, and rode straight at me. I had
just time to leap on one side. His riding-whip slashed across my face,
I heard him laugh with a triumphant mockery, and then I fired. The
horse bounded into the air with a scream of pain, sank on its
haunches, and rolled over on its side.
The noise of the shot brought our seconds to the door.
"Your friend seems in need of assistance," said Elmscott. For Marston
lay on the road struggling to free himself from the weight of the
horse. Cliffe loosened the saddle and helped Marston to his feet. Then
he drew aside and stood silent, looking at his companion with a
questioning disdain. Marston returned the look with a proud
indifference, which, in spite of myself, I could not but admire.
"There was more courage than cowardice in the act," said I, "to those
who understand it."
"I can do without your approbation," said Marston, flushing, as he
turned sharply upon me. Catching sight of my face, he smiled. "Did the
whip sting?" he asked.
I unsheathed my sword, and without another word we mounted the bank on
the left side of the road and passed on to the heath.
The seconds chose a spot about a hundred yards from the highway, where
the turf was level and smooth, and set us facing north and south, so
that neither might get advantage from the sun. The morning was very
clear and bright, with just here and there a feather of white cloud in
the blue of the sky; and our swords shone in the sunlight like darting
tongues of flame.
The encounter was of the shortest, since we were in no condition to
plan or execute the combinations of a cool and subtle attack, but
drove at each other with the utmost fury. Marston wounded me in the
forearm before ever I touched him. But a few seconds after that he had
pinked me, he laid his side open, and I passed my sword between his
ribs. He staggered backwards, swayed for a moment to and fro in an
effort to keep his feet; his knees gave under him, and he sank down
upon the heath, his fingers clasping and unclasping convulsively about
the pommel of his sword. Cliffe lifted him in his arms and strove to
staunch the blood, which was reddening through his shirt, while
Elmscott ran to the inn and hurried off to Hungerford for a surgeon.
For awhile I stood on my ground, idly digging holes in the grass with
the point of my rapier. Then Marston called me faintly, and I dropped
the sword and went to his side. His face was white and sweaty, and the
pupils of his eyes were contracted to pin-points.
I knelt down and bent my head close to his.
"So," he whispered, "luck sides with you after all. This time I
thought that I had won the vole."
He was silent for a minute or so, and then:
"I want to speak with you alone."
I took him from Cliffe's arms and supported his head upon my knee, he
pressing both his hands tightly upon his side.
"Betty is afraid," he continued, with a gasp between each word, as
soon as Cliffe had left us. "Betty is afraid, and her husband's a
fool."
The implied request, even at that moment, struck me as wonderfully
characteristic of the man. So long as his own desires were at stake he
disregarded his sister's fears; but no sooner had all chance of
gaining them failed, than his affection for her reasserted itself, and
even drove him to the length of asking help from his chief enemy.
"I will see that no harm comes to her."
"Promise!"
I promised, somehow touched by his trust in me.
"I knew you would," he said gratefully; and then, with a smile: "I am
sorry I hit you with my whip--Morrice. I could have loved you."
Again he lay silent, plucking at the grass with the fingers of his
left hand.
"Lift me higher! There is something else."
I raised his body as gently as I could; but nevertheless the rough
bandage which Cliffe had fastened over the wound became displaced with
the movement, and the blood burst out again, soaking through his
shirt.
"You spoke of a miniature----" he began, and then with a little
gasping sob he turned over in my arms, and fell forward on the grass
upon his face.
I called to Cliffe, who stood with his back towards us a little
distance off, and ran to where I had laid my coat and cravat before
the duel commenced. For the cravat was of soft muslin, and might, I
fancied, be of some use as lint. With this in my hand, I hurried back.
Cliffe was lifting Marston from the ground.
"Best let him lie there quietly," I said.
He turned the body over upon its back.
"Aye!" he answered, "under God's sky."
I dropped on my knees beside the corpse, felt the pulse, laid my ear
to the heart. The sun shone hot and bright upon his dead face. Cliffe
took a handkerchief from his pocket, and gently placed it over
Marston's eyes.
"This means a year on the Continent for you, my friend," he said.
When Elmscott and the surgeon arrived some half an hour later, they
found me eating my breakfast in the kitchen.
"Where is he?" they asked.
"Who?" said I.
I remember vaguely that the surgeon looked at me with a certain
anxiety, and made a remark to Elmscott. Then they went out of the room
again. How long it was before they returned I have no notion. Elmscott
brought in my coat, hat, and sword, and I got up to put them on; but
the doctor checked him, and setting me again in my chair, bound up my
arm, not without some resistance from me, for I saw that his hands
were dabbled with Marston's blood.
"Now," said he to Elmscott, "if you will help, we will get him
upstairs to bed."
"No!" said I, suddenly recollecting all that had occurred. "I made
Marston a promise. I must keep it! I must ride to town and keep it!"
"It will be the best way, if he can," said Elmscott. "He will be taken
here for a surety. I have sent a messenger to Bristol with the news."
The surgeon eased my arm into the sleeve of my coat, and made a sling
about my shoulders with my cravat. Elmscott buckled on my sword and
led me to the stables, leaving me outside while he went in and saddled
a horse.
"This is Cliffe's horse," said he; "yours is too tired. I will explain
to him."
He held the horse while I climbed into the saddle.
"Now, Morrice," he said, "you have no time to lose. You have got the
start of the law; keep it. Marston's family is of some power and
weight. As soon as his death is known, there will be a hue and cry
after you; so fly the country. I would say leave the promise
unfulfilled, but that it were waste of breath. Fly the country as soon
as you may, unless you have a mind for twelve months in Newgate gaol.
I will follow you to town with all speed, but for your own sake 'twere
best I find you gone."
He moved aside, and I galloped off towards Newberry. The misery of
that ride I could not, if I would, describe. The pain of my wound, the
utter weariness and dejection which came upon me as a reaction from
the excitement of the last days, and the knowledge that I could no
longer shirk my confession, so combined to weaken and distress me,
that I had much ado to keep my seat in the saddle. 'Twas late in the
evening when I rode up to Ilga's lodging. The door, by some chance,
stood open, and without bethinking me to summon the servants, I walked
straight up the staircase to the parlour, dragging myself from one
step to the other by the help of the balustrade. The parlour door was
shut, and I could not lay my fingers on the handle, but scratched
blindly up and down the panels in an effort to find it. At last some
one opened the door from within, and I staggered into the room. Mdlle.
Durette--for it was she--set up a little scream, and then in the
embrasure of the window I saw the Countess rise slowly to her feet.
The last light of the day fell grey and wan across her face and hair.
I saw her as through a mist, and she seemed to me more than ordinarily
tall. I stumbled across the room, my limbs growing heavier every
moment.
"Countess," I began, "I have a promise to fulfil. Lady Tracy----"
There I stopped. The room commenced to swim round me. "Lady Tracy----"
I repeated.
The Countess stood motionless as a statue, dumb as a statue. Yet in a
strange way she appeared suddenly to come near and increase in
stature--suddenly to dwindle and diminish.
"Ilga," I cried, stretching out my hands to her. She made no movement.
I felt my legs bend beneath me, as if the bones of them were dissolved
to water, and I sank heavily upon my knees. "Ilga," I cried again, but
very faintly. She stirred not so much as a muscle to help me, and I
fell forward swooning, with my head upon her feet.