ANOTHER SECRET BURIAL
My astonishment was so complete that several minutes passed before I
could find voice enough to ask what this deception meant. Annetje soon
quieted her laughter and was ready to explain.
“My dear mistress,” she began, “is an angel out of heaven. She is always
making chances for me to see Pierre. To-day, when she would not go to
Yorke with you, I begged her to let me go in her place. She is so sweet.
She can never bear to say ‘no’ to anything unless someone does wrong.”
Annetje indicated what would happen then by a disconsolate shrug of her
shoulders.
“I don’t know why she should have taken such a liking to you. I dare say
now, if you had been here longer—oh, I don’t mean that at all. I think
you are very—very—Shall we ride towards Yorke?”
I could not help laughing a little at Annetje’s embarrassment.
“Mistress Annetje,” I said.
“I’m a bond-servant, sir. Plain Annetje, if you please.”
“Plain Annetje, then, what is your purpose now?”
“To put on my mask again. Now, I have it placed; will you tie it in the
back? Look, here in my face; is it right? Do my ears show under the
bottom?”
All this occurred on the Kissing Bridge. I made sure as I tied Annetje’s
ribbons that she was still chuckling behind her mask, though she spoke
like a Puritan.
“If you had kissed me I should have told my mistress. No I should not,
neither. We never do anything she does not like. Do you know how you
touched her heart by crying over that dear little Ruth we all loved so
much? There you go again. You must be soft indeed. Mistress was telling
me all about it. But here comes Pierre; I knew we should meet him.”
Sure enough, my friend Pierre was riding on the road ahead of us, and
would meet us in a moment.
“I am going to play the mistress,” continued Annetje. “You two must ride
behind me just the same.”
I did not know what to make of this meeting with Pierre. It was not his
custom, as I knew very well, to ride a good horse. He could not be here
by appointment or Annetje would not try to fool him as to who she really
was. Perhaps he had ridden out in the mere hope of stumbling across me.
He was on a horse I had seen in the Marmaduke stables, which fact
confirmed me in this opinion. Perhaps he had matters of importance for
my ear.
“Ha, Pierre,” I heard his sweetheart say in a high unnatural voice as
they passed. “You see I ride in disguise now. Will you turn and
accompany us? I have a new groom. Monsieur St. Vincent, this is Pierre,
the barber.”
Pierre looked surprised. Evidently Annetje was not copying with success
her gentle mistress’ manner. She seemed to know this fact, for her next
words contained a half apology for her behavior.
“Don’t look amazed, my little friend. You see I have a disguise to keep
up now, and I practice by the way. I should have brought Annetje to
accompany me—ah, you wish I had? My father could not spare us both. You
waste too much time on the little flirt, Pierre.”
“She is severe at times,” he answered mournfully. “I sometimes grow so
weary waiting for her to come round.”
“Bah! You are a milky lover to say so. I’d wait a life-time if I were
you. Alas, all men are alike! She is right when she says that you are a
white-livered, chicken-hearted snip of a coward not worth the cheese in
a mousetrap. Pooh, you are a fine lover. Good Lord deliver me!”
“Oh, Mistress Miriam, does she say all that? If you only knew how I do
everything she tells me, and stand on my toes from morning till night
when she is around, and I have corns to boot, and fetch her ribbons, and
she won’t even cross the Kissing Bridge, where everybody does if they
are no nearer than half a mile.”
“To the kennels with your love if that is all it’s worth.”
In her last exclamation Annetje had dropped into her natural voice.
Pierre was so down-hearted that he did not notice the change; but
Annetje, fearing to expose herself further, galloped ahead and Pierre
took his place by my side. As for me, I had little enough of sympathy
for him, and felt more in a mood for laughing. If there is anything on
this earth I cannot abide it is a whiny lover. I remember once a fellow
whose opinion of himself was better than most folks’ and he used to go
about from morning to night with his face as long as a cucumber thinking
all the while of what he might have been doing while another fellow came
in and ran off with the prize before his eyes. I was minded to tell
Pierre the story of this fellow and how he went into a decline and died
without as much sympathy as would go to make an ordinary case of the
blues, but he got so quick to work upon his other concerns that I forgot
all about it till the time was past.
“This is an odd manner for the young mistress,” he said. “But I suppose
she is glad to get out again. Annetje says that the patroon keeps her
close. I told her that I should ride along the road here every day. I
did not know when I should meet you, but I knew that you would come
along some day. I wish Annetje had come.”
“There were strange happenings at the manor-house to-day, Pierre.”
“So there were at Marmaduke Hall. I was walking in the crowd on the Slip
when someone put his hand into my pocket. There were so many people that
I could not make out who it was, but I found that he had left your
letter in my pocket.”
“My letter! In your pocket!”
“Yes, the letter you wrote last night.”
“I wrote no letter.”
“Yes you did. I received it.”
“Not from me. What was it like?”
“It was very short and said that the excuse of going to Albany would not
do; that a messenger was coming from the manor-house to inquire after
you and must find you dead. We thought it a piece of foolery at first,
though who but you knew enough to write the letter. But first thing we
knew, Mistress Miriam rode up to ask where you were. Lady Marmaduke saw
her coming and suspected that the letter was true. So she rubbed my face
with flour, found me a false beard that they used to act with when they
gave plays there, and made me into your corpse in the twinkling of an
eye. If the tender-hearted mistress had not been full of tears, she
would never have taken me for you, nor for a corpse either, for I jumped
when one of her tears fell plump into my eye. She just turned away,
saying something about your sister had she been alive.”
I stifled a sob at this. Everyone but me was free to mourn aloud for
Ruth.
“I sent no such letter, Pierre. What do you suppose it means?”
He had no explanation to give and I offered none of my own. But I knew
beyond a doubt that Louis was true to his word. Who but Louis could have
warned the Marmadukes in this way? If he had done so, then he must know
who I was. Verily I was on slippery ground, but there I was, and there
was neither drawing back nor going forward beyond a certain pace, and
that pace was not in my own ruling. I began to think that the patroon
had an enemy besides myself in the bosom of his household. Perhaps,
after all, it would be through Louis that I should win out in the end;
but I little foresaw the truth, or the trouble that was to come before
the end, when the clouds should clear above the band of fallen troopers.
“Yonder is the city wall,” said Pierre. “I had best not go into town by
your side. We should not be seen together, so I will just take my
leave.”
He left me abruptly and turned down a side lane almost before I knew
that he was gone; then I galloped ahead to overtake Annetje Dorn. We
entered the city, riding one abreast the other. We had no sooner reached
the open space before the Stadt Huys than a new adventure presented
itself, an adventure which tested my companion’s nerve to the utmost.
“There is the Earl of Bellamont,” she said. “He will take me for my
mistress and speak to me. What shall I do?”
“You must stick it out,” I answered. “Look sharp now. This must be gone
through with.”
When we first spied the Earl we were in the midst of a large open place
near the fort. Even at that distance I could mark the easy, erect
bearing that made him the envy of all the horseback riders in the
province. He was bowing right and left to the many persons he met on
every hand, and so did not see us until we were quite upon him. When he
did see us, however, he bowed low as if he had met a queen. He was much
different in this respect from his wife. The Earl, in fact, was free
with the ladies and cordial to everyone, but it was a well-known piece
of gossip that he would not let his wife stir from the fort without a
watch. She had been wild in her youth, and had married him when she was
but a child. Now he was jealous as a woman about her, but with himself
it was a different matter altogether.
“A welcome greeting, Mistress Van Volkenberg.” He knew her well enough
by the trappings of her horse, and by the red band on my arm. “I must
tell my Lady Bellamont that you ride now with a mask. It has always been
her wish, you know, that the maidens of the province should not be so
free with their pretty faces.”
“Your Excellency speaks sweet flattery,” answered Annetje. The bridle
trembled in her hand, but her voice rang like metal.
“And your father—is the patroon well?”
His face clouded a bit, I thought, as he said this; but there were
gentlemen in Yorke in those days that have passed away, and the Earl of
Bellamont never failed in courtesy to a woman.
“My father is well, your Excellency. This is a new retainer of
his—Monsieur St. Vincent.”
“Ah, Monsieur St. Vincent, you are welcome to the province. It is always
our wish to obtain such men as you. Broad shoulders and a true heart,
they are the strength of Yorke.” He turned to Annetje. “We must see your
pretty face unmasked at the Assembly Ball—and Monsieur St. Vincent
also,” bowing to me.
He would have invited the devil himself if he had come in company with a
lady; but had he known what a revelation I should bring to that public
ball the color would have left his cheeks. But that is to come. A few
more commonplace remarks passed between us and then we parted.
“I can understand it now,” said Annetje as we rode towards home. “I
often wonder how he keeps it all away from our sweet mistress; but if
all the men are like that—no wonder. Who would have thought that he was
talking to the daughter of his worst enemy? Yet she—God bless her
innocent heart—she does not even know that her father is in disgrace
with the privy-council.”
“But you seem to.”
“Ay, Pierre,” she answered, indicating the source of her information.
She turned towards me, taking off her mask as she did so. We were out in
the country again, following a by-path north of the city where there was
no longer any danger of meeting folk to recognize us. I had been used to
see in her a merry face sparkling with humor. Now, when she unmasked,
her brows were puckered up, and her childish face wore a sober, puzzled
look.
“Ay, Pierre. I love him if I do tease him. What is more, I trust him,
too. He knows me well. Your secret is safe with me, Monsieur Le Bourse.
You see that I know all about you. I brought you out this afternoon
because I knew that we should meet Pierre. I dare say you had something
for his ear if he had none for yours. I do not know why you are here. I
do not even ask. Pierre is your safety and I am satisfied. But beware; I
am a watchdog to my mistress. If you do anything against her I’ll cut
your throat.”
“Annetje,” I cried. “You can trust me there. I shall protect her with my
life for the love she bore my sister. Tell me one thing. How is it that
she can stand what is going on at Hanging Rock?”
“She does not know it.”
“How can she help knowing it?”
“Because we all love her. Even the patroon would lay down his life for
her. Do you suppose he is afraid to have her know the truth? It is
because he loves her and would save her pain.”
“I have seen him try to strike her with a glass.”
“It was in anger. He has a strange infirmity that comes upon him
suddenly. He does not know what he is doing when it has got hold of him.
She forgives all that, her heart is so big.”
“But last night—the death of Ronald Guy?”
“Hush, not a word of that before her. She knows nothing of all that.”
“But she does know it. She was on the terrace. I saw her with my own
eyes.”
“Yet she does not know it. We are used to the Red Band drilling at
night. I knew what was coming yesterday, and at night I drew her
curtains close so she could not see what was going on. When the guns
went off she sprang out of bed. She heard her father’s cry. I could not
stop her before she threw on a cloak and ran down stairs in her bare
feet. She met her father in the doorway taken with one of his strange
fits. She had no eyes for anything but him. She did not see poor Ronald
lying in a heap, nor Meg.”
“She cannot be kept in ignorance forever. How long has this thing been
going on?”
“Not long. The Red Band is a new thing. It will bring ruin upon the
house. My poor mistress, when she learns the truth! The truth will break
her heart, she is so strong for right.” The tears were streaming out of
the poor girl’s eyes. “Promise me you will do nothing to harm my
mistress.”
“I swear before God I shall protect her.”
Then we fell to musing and rode for half an hour before Annetje asked me
to tie her mask again.
“It is time we were going home,” she said. “There is some distance yet,
for I have led you round about and we are scarcely a quarter of a mile
from the city wall.”
A hundred yards brought us to the Post Road, along which we turned to
the left, galloping rapidly northward towards the Hanging Rock. On our
right, not more than a mile from the town was, and is for aught I know
to the contrary, an old tumble-down tannery. We were approaching this
ramshackle building when five men suddenly dashed out on us. They were
all rough looking fellows, and each one of them wore a black mask over
his face. In spite of this disguise, I recognized the hindmost man. The
jumbled figure like a mass of jelly in the saddle—so unlike the
stiffness with which he sometimes rode—proclaimed him to be Louis Van
Ramm. Because of his presence I could hardly believe this sortie to be
an attack upon me till I heard the cry of the foremost rider caught up
and repeated by the others.
“Down with him. Down with the Red Band. Fire.”
Four of their muskets rang out at once. I heard Annetje scream, and
expected to fall dead, but I was not even hurt. The fifth man had got so
close to me that he shot off his gun at my very breast. Then Louis
raised the butt end of his musket and struck me on the head. All this
happened so suddenly that I had not had time even to draw my sword. When
Louis’s gun fell, I reeled. I just remember Annetje’s shriek, and the
hoofbeats of her horse like a great echoing drum. Next I felt myself
sliding from the saddle, and then all is a blank to this day.
My grandfather used to say, “Telling dreams is but another name for
lying;” so I shall not speak of the glorious visions of war and battle
that thronged through my brain before I came to myself again. But regain
consciousness I did, and in the following manner.
I remembered the drumbeats of Annetje’s horse as I reeled from the
saddle, and when I came to myself again the first sound that fell on my
ear was the sound of a hammer. I was lying on my back on the floor of a
dimly lit outhouse. Ten feet away from me two men were making a box.
Luckily I had come to my senses quietly and had made no noise to attract
their attention. For all the two workmen knew I might be still asleep—or
dead, as they doubtless supposed. I made haste to stretch myself in that
half sort of way which is as good as none, for I did not really move a
muscle; I only strained a little here and there to make sure I was still
alive.
The effect of the blow that had rendered me unconscious had passed away.
Save for the ringing in my ears and the dull heavy pain in the crown of
my head, I was all right and my wit was as clear as ever. So soon as I
ascertained this fact, and had recollected the fight on the road, I set
myself to unravel the present situation.
It must have been about sundown, and I soon discovered that the place
where I lay was the old disused tannery. One of the two workmen I did
not know; the other was Louis Van Ramm. Now for the first time I had a
chance to think what his presence here meant. Evidently this attack had
been instigated by the patroon—how otherwise could the dwarf be mixed up
in it? But what part was he really playing? Were all his protestations
of the morning false, or had he joined them only to hinder the execution
of their plans? Then I remembered that it was his blow that had struck
me down. I cursed him in my heart for it; but I was soon to learn that I
was unjust in this suspicion.
However, despite my efforts to be still, I soon made a slight noise.
“My God!” cried the workman. “Was that him?”
“Couldn’t be,” replied Louis. “But I’ll look again and make sure.”
He dropped his hammer and came mincing to my side. As he bent over me I
opened my eyes and looked square into his face. He hissed between his
teeth for silence and laid his clumsy hand over my mouth for an instant.
Then he got up and rejoined his companion.
“He’s as dead as a rock, and getting stiff. No fear of him, Barker.”
“If he’s dead,” returned Barker, “devil a fear have I. I’ll risk his
ghost.” Then he added after a pause: “I hope we shall get out of here
before night.”
“Little chance of that,” said Louis. “This is not a job the patroon will
have finished in daylight.”
“Is he coming himself to see us bury him?”
“Yes. Get to work. This isn’t much of a coffin; but, such as it is, it
must be finished against his coming back.”
So they were making my coffin and were going to bury me. “If they
could,” I thought. But perhaps they had reckoned without me. If I made a
sudden spring I could easily master Barker, or both of them if Louis
proved my enemy. But Louis knew not only that I was alive, but also that
I was conscious. Had he been playing me false he would not have deceived
his partner. So I observed his warning to be silent, and lay perfectly
still for some time.
Soon they finished their job, and Barker suggested that they box me up.
Louis assented, and they came over to my side. I squinted between my
lids and awaited some sign from the dwarf. I felt sure that he had
planned something and that it was my cue to wait. Barker took hold of my
hand.
“Why, he’s warm, Van Ramm.”
“Warm,” said Louis. “Nonsense; feel his heart.”
The fellow bent over me. At the very instant, Louis gave him a
prodigious shove from behind that tumbled him down across my chest.
“Grip him, Vincent,” cried the dwarf. “Grip him tight.”
I threw up my arms and locked them round the fellow’s back. Then I felt
a sharp twinge of pain, for Louis had driven his dagger clean through my
enemy’s back and half an inch into my own flesh. Barker gave a
convulsive sob and was dead almost before I knew that he had been
struck.
“Get up, get up,” cried the dwarf, who was tugging at the body. “Give
him a push; I cannot lift the wretch. There—now get up.”
With that I got up. Louis grasped my hand and spoke of my narrow escape.
“But we must be quick,” he went on. “Take off that boot while I do the
other. Good. Now for his coat and waistcoat.”
In five minutes we had the dead man stripped of his outer clothes. I
hardly understood what we were doing till Louis told me to take off my
own clothes and dress myself in the others. This I did in a moment, but
it was slower work putting my garments on the body of the dead man. We
succeeded, however, and soon Barker lay in the coffin and the lid was
nailed down. I sat safe and sound.
“Now put on his mask,” said Louis, “and we can talk till the hell-cat
comes. What, you tremble! On my life, your hands are cold. Take this.”
He put a flask of whisky to my mouth and I gulped down a stifling
draught. It was well I did so, for my spirit was weak and we were not
done with this adventure by more than half. It is a hard thing to strike
a man down like that, even to save one’s life. I could not reconcile
myself to the shame of having struck him from the back and while he was
defenceless. But Louis had saved my life and I did not upbraid him with
the way he had chosen to do it.
“Louis,” I said—we were sitting side by side on the coffin. “What does
all this mean? Why did you call your master a hell-cat?”
“He gave orders for us to lie in wait and kill you. He thought you were
Le Bourse.”
“Thought, or thinks?”
“Thought. He thinks you are the devil now.”
“Wherefore that compliment?”
“Five muskets discharged at short range, one in your very face; none of
them brought you down. I had to club you with the butt end of my
musket.”
“Strange how they came to miss me.”
“Not strange at all. I unloaded them. Hush, don’t stop to thank me now.
They are coming. I hope he will not want to look into the box.”
A moment later the patroon and one of his men entered.
“Is your work done, Louis?”
“Yes, sir; your orders are always obeyed, though Barker and I had to
sweat for it.”
“Good. You shall have your reward.” (This to me.) “Now help us carry
this out. We have got the grave all ready.”
The four of us took up the box and marched slowly out with it. We
crossed a courtyard into another shed. It was dusk outside, but quite
dark where we were going. I could see piles of lumber, boxes and barrels
on either side; and, at the far end, a couple of disused vats.
Everything was gloomy and still and solemn. Beyond the vats a light was
burning, and here we found the fifth man sitting beside my—nay, Barker’s
grave. The patroon urged speed, and we were not long in burying the
coffin. Then we covered it with boards and debris so as to obliterate
all traces of our presence and the grave. When we paused at the end to
survey our work, I heard Louis mutter to the patroon:
“’Tis not the first time we have done a piece of work like this.”
There came into Van Volkenberg’s face that dogged look of hate that I
had seen in the council chamber the day I had humbled him in the
presence of his peers. Had I known nothing about him but that look, I
should have known that a day of reckoning was at hand for the henchman.
Van Volkenberg’s only reply, however, was: “Remember Ronald Guy.”
We were now ready to go out. As soon as we were on our journey homeward,
the patroon touched me on the arm and motioned me silently to drop back
with him.
“You have done well, Barker. You have obeyed orders without asking
questions. Do you feel no curiosity to know why he died?”
“It is not my place to observe that men are much like women in the
matter of trifles.”
“Trifles! Do you call the death of a living man a trifle! Bah; but ’tis
a shrewd hint, my honest man. I shall reward you with my confidence. I
shall not honor the others so. Even Louis does not know what I am going
to tell you. That man was Bellamont’s spy.”
“Spy,” I cried.
“Yes, my trusty Barker. A spy sent by the enemy of the Red Band.”
“So perish all her enemies.”
“Do you think so?” asked the patroon in a tone of condescension, as if
he really wanted my corroboration. “If you really believe that, heart
and soul, I have some work for you that will raise you high as an
officer of mine. There is still another spy in the very bosom of the Red
Band.”
“Another! Two of them! Who is he?”
“That prancing ape ahead.”
“Louis Van Ramm?”
“Louis Van Ramm.”
“I am astonished. We all thought he was our master’s dearest man.”
“So he has been. I have found him out at last. He is paid by the
Governor-Earl to betray us, and he must die for it. If you will kill him
you shall have his place. Will you do it?”
“You have but to command. Shall I ahead and do it now?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, laying his hand on my arm. “There are three
of them; besides, this must be done secretly. To-morrow, at nine o’clock
exactly, Louis and I shall set out for the Hanging Rock. Be there to
meet us. When we are done with him I have a secret to introduce you to
in the chamber beneath the rock.”
“I shall be there in waiting, master.”
“Good. Be punctual. Now drop back and do not show yourself in the
meantime. I shall join those ahead.”
With that he quickened his step and was soon swallowed in the darkness,
while I stood counting his dwindling footsteps.