OF THE KING’S ERRAND AND MY LADY’S WELCOME
THE interior was brilliantly lighted by a number of wax candles set
in sconces against the walls, their light reflected by a cunning
arrangement of broad mirrors that hung upon the deep oak-panelled
surface behind them. Between these the light fell upon many a portrait
of past earls of Cleeve, interspersed with arms of various countries
and the trophies of the chase. Upon our right, three broad stairs,
flanked on either side by a richly carved balustrade, led up to a
little landing, on which, directly facing the steps, were a pair of
folding doors. From this landing the stairway divided, ascending left
and right to a gallery overhead, that ran along the whole length of
that side of the hall. On our left were three or four heavily curtained
windows. For the rest, the squares of bright-hued carpet lying on the
polished oaken floor, the richness of the furniture and hangings, all
bespoke the wealth of the owners, as the cut-glass bowls filled with
the summer’s flowers, the open spinet upon which some leaves of music
were scattered, denoted unmistakably the presence of women--and women
of refinement and taste.
All this I took in, as it were, at a glance ere fixing my eyes upon the
two persons who occupied the room.
At the farther end, before a wide, stone chimney, in which a bright
fire of logs was burning, a lady was seated in a high-backed chair,
over which a tall man was leaning, conversing with her in low tones.
Their backs were towards us, and they did not move when I opened the
door. Doubtless they thought it was some servant who entered. They were
speedily undeceived.
“M. de Launay,” I cried clearly, “I arrest you in the name of his
Majesty, William III.!”
Had a cannon-ball fallen suddenly into the room, it could not have
occasioned a greater surprise.
The lady started to her feet with a low cry of fear, and so stood,
gazing at us with startled eyes. As for the gentleman, he turned to
face us, his sword half drawn from its sheath. But a second glance must
have convinced him of the futility of resistance, for he let his hand
fall to his side again. He was a handsome man in the prime of life,
and was dressed in the latest fashion of the French Court. His suit of
white flowered satin and gold-embroidered vest became him wonderfully;
his peruke was of the largest, his cravat and the ruffles at his wrist
of the finest lace; and there was an air of graceful elegance about him
which birth and breeding alone give. He bore the look of one who had
spent his life in the society of great men.
For a few seconds there was silence in the room, broken only by the
howl of the wind without and the lashing of the rain against the window.
“Who are you?” he demanded, when at length he found his voice. He
spoke English well enough, though with a somewhat foreign accent.
“Permit me to explain,” I answered, turning to the lady, though still
keeping a watchful eye upon the man before me. I now had leisure to
observe her more closely. She was young, not more than twenty years of
age, as I judged, and her gown of pink brocade served to display the
slimness of her figure. A fair face, surrounded by its mass of flaxen
curls, but one scarcely deserving the high praises that Cornet Graham
had sung in my ears upon the road. As the thought of them recurred
to me, I could barely repress a smile. I had seen many women more
beautiful. “Do I address the Lady Lettice Ingram?” I said, doffing my
hat.
“She is my sister,” she replied slowly. Her eyes were still dark with
fear. In a moment I was minded of the steward’s words. I told myself
that this was the Mistress Grace that he had mentioned.
“Madam,” I made haste to answer, “I beg that you will not be alarmed
at this intrusion, which the exigencies of my errand alone warranted.
My business is with this gentleman,” I continued, indicating the
Frenchman, who stood, one white hand laid upon the hilt of his rapier.
“M. de Launay, I am charged with your arrest by order of Sir Richard
Danvers, governor of the west during his Majesty’s absence in Ireland.”
“Pest!” he said coolly. “But if I am not the person you mention. What
if you have made a mistake, monsieur?”
“No mistake, M. le Marquis,” I answered firmly, “as I am about to
prove to you. Be good enough to carry your memory back some three
years, and I think that you cannot have forgotten one Armand de Brissac
and a certain duel in the Crown Tavern at Barcelona!”
For a moment he stared at me, a look of profound astonishment on his
face.
“De Brissac? The Maître D’Armés?” he cried quickly.
“On that occasion,” I continued, “you staked somewhat heavily upon the
issue and lost.”
“To poor D’Epernay, who fell at Walcourt. Certainly I remember the
circumstances. But you--how is it that you?--I do not understand.” He
looked at me more intently. “_Pardieu!_” he burst out, “I know you now!
He was the finest swordsman in the French army, and you killed him in
less than five minutes!”
I bowed low.
“That being the case, monsieur,” I answered, “I think you will admit
that I have made no mistake as to your identity.”
“Readily,” he replied lightly. “And your name, monsieur? It has escaped
my memory.”
“Adrian Cassilis,” I answered, “at your service! Captain in his
Majesty’s Tangier Horse!”
“A famous regiment,” he said. “I congratulate you! I have had the
pleasure of fighting against them both in France and Flanders.”
Again I bowed.
“Admitting then, M. Cassilis,” he continued, “that I am the man you
mention, may I be permitted to ask what is your purpose concerning me,
and where you would take me?”
“To Exeter,” I answered, “in the first place.”
“And afterwards?” he said quickly.
“Doubtless my Lord Danvers will himself inform you,” I replied.
“You are discreet, monsieur!” he said, frowning. “At least you will not
refuse to inform me with what offence I am charged?”
“All in good time, M. le Marquis,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders.
“Be patient, I beg of you. You have been a soldier yourself. My duty is
but to secure your person.”
“But, you have some idea!” he cried impatiently. “Is it not so? Be
frank, man!”
“Possibly,” I answered curtly. “With the Stuart in Ireland and a
French army at Dunkirk, it needs no long head to discover a reason for
depriving so distinguished a soldier as M. de Launay of his present
liberty.”
“Truly I should be flattered at my celebrity,” he answered lightly.
“But if the liberty of every one of my countrymen at present in England
is for the same reason to be so curtailed, you will require to enlarge
your prisons, monsieur!”
I was about to reply to this, when----
“What is the meaning of this outrage?”
The words fell clearly and suddenly upon my ears.
I turned in the direction from which the voice proceeded, and I saw
that the folding doors beneath the gallery were wide open, and that a
woman stood at the head of the stair.
She stood at the head of the stairway, in the full light of the
candles, and as my eyes rested upon her face, the dangers and hardships
of our journey, nay, the very errand upon which we had come, and the
presence of the man at my side, all faded away, and I saw nothing but
the face of the woman before me, while in my ears rang the words of
the cornet: “She is accounted by some to be the loveliest woman in
England.” And I knew that they had not lied.
She was clad in a grey-velvet riding dress, that revealed every
curve of her faultless figure, silhouetted as she was against the
semi-darkness of the corridor behind. Upon the clustering golden hair
that framed her face was set the daintiest of three-cornered riding
hats. But how to describe her beauty I know not. Words are but poor
things at best, and how can I, a plain soldier, depict with justice
that upon which the painters and poets of Europe have lavished the
finest efforts of their genius! This only will I say: That in the proud
poise of the lovely head, upon the haughty, glowing face, with its rich
colouring heightened by her recent ride, was stamped the pride of birth
and conscious beauty.
Oh, she was beautiful! A woman for the sake of whom a man might give
his life and count it less than naught. A woman to gain whose love a
man might sell his soul!
“I am waiting, sir!” she cried impatiently, as speechless I stood
before her, dazzled by her beauty. Her voice was rich, if a trifle
imperious; her every movement instinct with a womanly grace.
Descending the steps, she stood facing me not ten paces distant. And I
saw her eyes--eyes of a dusky, violet hue flash ominously as she took
in the details of the scene. Doubtless, splashed with mud as we were
from head to heel, our clothes sodden with the wet, our faces streaked
with scratches where the brambles had torn us--we must have appeared
like denizens of the Pit itself.
Her words recalled me to myself with a start.
“Madam,” I stammered--and my voice sounded hoarse even to my own
ears--“I crave your pardon for so intruding, but--That window is
guarded, M. de Launay!” I broke off sharply.
He gave in at that.
“Pest!” he said with a shrug. “You think of everything, monsieur! I
call you to witness, however, that I had given you no parole. Have you
come out against me with an army?”
“I am too old a campaigner, monsieur,” I replied curtly, “to leave
aught to chance.”
“Address yourself to me, sir!” my lady cried imperiously, “and in as
few words as possible.”
I turned to where she stood, one gauntletted hand daintily upholding
her trailing skirt. In the other she carried a short riding whip.
“To be brief then, madam,” I answered, “I am charged with an order for
the arrest of M. de Launay.”
“M. de Launay is my guest,” she replied haughtily, “and were he King
Louis himself I would not give him up!”
[Illustration: “Descending the steps, she stood facing me not ten paces
distant”]
Doubtless the smallness of our numbers encouraged her in the thought
that her servants might offer us effectual resistance. If so, she was
speedily undeceived. Even as she spoke there came the sound of many
footsteps in the hall without, accompanied by the clank of steel, and
Cornet Graham and his troop entered the room.
“It appears to me, madam,” I said calmly, “that you have no option in
the matter.”
She looked at me for a moment as if she could not believe her ears--as
if I were less than the dirt beneath her feet. So long had she been
accustomed to have her slightest wish obeyed, that now to have her will
disputed was an experience as novel as it was humiliating.
“You would use force, sir?” she cried incredulously.
“As to that, madam,” I replied, “my answer is written behind me!” and I
glanced significantly at the troopers.
“It is plainly written,” she replied quickly, with a woman’s ready
wit. “Times are indeed changed,” she continued bitterly, “when we of
the house of Ingram must submit to the bidding of the first beggar who
carries a sword at his side! But it seems that we must obey the ruling
powers, with whom even our own servants are in league!”
At this I could readily believe there was no enviable time ahead of
the steward and he must have thought so, too, for with a sudden effort
he shook off the slackened grasp of the troopers on either side and
stepped quickly forward.
“My lady,” he cried, “what could I do? They would have hanged me!” and
he pointed to his neck, round which was a purple ring where the cord
had cut into the flesh, plain to be seen by the dullest eyes, and the
meaning of which could not be mistaken.
For a moment my lady gazed; then she drew herself to her full height
and faced us, one hand pressed against her bosom, as if to restrain the
passion that caused her figure to tremble and flashed from the depths
of her wondrous eyes.
“And was this, sir,” she cried, “this in your orders--that you should
not only break into my house, but should also vent your savage cruelty
upon my inoffensive servants?”
Again I stood speechless before her, for anger served only to increase
her loveliness.
“Inoffensive? A damned rebel!” growled the sergeant.
I silenced him with a look and turned once more to the woman before me.
“Pooh! madam,” I said coolly, for her words nettled me, “the man is not
seriously hurt, and my duty must be my excuse.”
“Your duty!” she cried with intense scorn. “You had not dared this
outrage had my brother, the earl, been present!”
“But he is not, madam,” I answered with a faint sneer. “I believe I am
correct in saying that he is not even in England!”
“He is where every true and loyal gentleman should be,” she cried
boldly--“in Ireland, fighting for his rightful sovereign, King James!”
I heard a low gasp escape the troopers behind me. It might have been
astonishment or of admiration at her boldness.
“You are frank, madam,” I replied, “and permit me to say it--somewhat
indiscreet. But again I beg you to believe that the duty which
thus forces me into your presence was as unsought by me as it is
distasteful.”
“I do not believe you,” she said proudly. “And you may spare me your
apologies, sir! There is never wanting an instrument base enough to
execute any deed of injustice!”
Her words stung me.
“Very well, madam,” I replied; “then there is nothing further to be
said. M. de Launay,” I continued, “I must trouble you for your sword.
I regret that my leniency will not so far permit me to allow you to
retain it, but give me your parole that you will attempt no escape upon
the road and you shall ride with all freedom. Also,” I added, “I should
recommend you to bring your cloak, monsieur. The weather is inclement.”
“But pardon, M. Cassilis,” he broke out, as a sudden gust of wind shook
the casements and sent the raindrops rattling on the glass, “you do not
mean to ride to Exeter on such a night as this!”
“By no means,” I answered. “But there is a good inn here, I am told. We
shall be there to-night, monsieur, and start at daybreak.”
“In that case,” my lady cried, “he shall stay here to-night.”
“That is as I choose, madam,” I answered coldly, “and I do not choose.”
I could see that to be checked, thwarted, made to feel of no account,
here in the place where by virtue of her birth and beauty she had held
undisputed sway, was galling to her pride beyond endurance. I could see
it, I say, and I rejoiced in the knowledge.
“Your parole, monsieur!” I said once more, turning to the marquis.
“Since I have no choice in the matter,” he answered testily, “you have
it. On the honour of a De Launay!” he added proudly.
I bowed.
“That is sufficient, monsieur,” I replied. “But pardon me,” I continued
lightly; “you say that you have no choice in the matter. On the
contrary, there is another alternative. I am offering you the treatment
of a gentleman; if you prefer it, however, you may go bound to a horse
like any common felon.”
He looked at me very sourly, but he did not speak. Instead, he
unbuckled his sword and threw it with an ill grace upon the floor,
and at a sign from me, a trooper stepped forward and picked it up.
I glanced at my lady with, I doubt not, some of the triumph I felt
showing in my eyes. I was so completely the master of the situation.
“Believe me, monsieur,” I said, “I take but the precaution that my
warrant enjoins. You may read it for yourself if you so desire.”
“It is of no consequence,” he answered with a wave of the hand.
“But it is of consequence to me, monsieur!” my lady cried wrathfully.
“I am the mistress of this house and the guardian of all pertaining to
its honour. Show me this warrant, if indeed you have one!” she added,
turning suddenly upon me.
I sheathed my sword, and with flushed face and trembling fingers I
drew the paper from my breast and held it out to her. But she stepped
backwards with such a look of proud disdain upon her lovely face that
my hand dropped involuntarily to my side. For a moment she stood thus,
searching my eyes and enjoying, perhaps, my confusion, for I saw that
she would not take it from my hand; then she motioned to the steward
who stood near.
“Give it to me!” she said proudly.
He took the paper from my hand and she opened it and glanced quickly at
its contents.
On a sudden she broke into a bitter laugh.
“‘By my authority,’” she said, reading. She looked up, her eyes aflame.
“We are indeed fallen low when we must obey the authority of such men
as my Lord Danvers!--of Sir Richard Danvers, drunkard and libertine!
That is how I treat his authority!” She tore the paper across and
across and flung the pieces at her feet. “And now begone, sir!” she
continued, pointing imperiously to the door. “Begone! you and your
red-coated rabble!”
For a moment I was too astounded to speak, but I heard a low murmur
from the men behind me, and the sound recalled me to myself.
“Certainly I will be going, madam,” I replied. “I could no longer stay
in a house where so little respect is paid to the king’s authority. And
I am not at all sure,” I continued slowly, “that I should be exceeding
my duty if I were to arrest you also!”
“Arrest me?”
The words sprang from her lips in a tone of blank amazement, then she
drew her queenly figure erect and gazed at me with such a tempest of
wrath and scorn in her eyes as no words of mine can picture, and I saw
her breast heave with the passion she strove in vain to control. I
could well believe that never previously in all her life had she been
so addressed.
“Certainly!” I answered harshly. “You seem to forget, madam,” I
continued, pointing to the fragments of paper that lay between us,
“that you have committed nothing short of treason in so destroying the
king’s warrant. But I have no time to waste further words upon you!” I
added rudely; for I saw how I could hurt her pride.
“The king’s authority!” she cried passionately. “The authority that
sends such men as you to insult women! I would to God my servants had
been present, for they should have flogged you, sir--flogged you from
the village, and the ragged hirelings with you!”
I stood hand on hip not three paces from her, and I fixed my eyes
insolently upon her lovely face.
“I do not doubt their willingness under your tuition, madam,” I
answered coolly, “but only their ability to do so; for,” I continued
slowly, as a coarse laugh broke from the men behind me, “if they are
no better when it comes to blows than King James, whom they serve, of
whose courage we have lately had an example beneath the walls of Derry,
there would be more about them of flight than fight!”
For a moment she gazed at me with panting breath and quivering
nostrils; then moved by my words beyond restraint:
“You liar!” she cried, and throwing into the words all her concentrated
anger, before I could guess her purpose she raised the riding whip in
her hand and struck me heavily across the face.
To this day I take it to my credit that no oath escaped my lips. A thin
trickle of blood ran down my cheek. But ere she could repeat the blow I
caught her wrist and so stood facing her while one might count a score.
What she read in my own eyes I know not, but in the depths of hers I
read impotent passion, scorn, and hate, but not a trace of fear.
I loosened her wrist--even in my pain its soft touch thrilled me--and I
stepped backwards, wiping the warm blood from my face.
“Madam,” I said very quietly, “one day I will repay you for that blow
with tenfold interest!”
“Threats!” she answered scornfully, “and to a woman!”
I turned away.
“Monsieur,” I said to the marquis, who had stood a silent spectator
of the scene, and still speaking in the same level tones, “if you are
ready to accompany us, we will set out.”
“I am at your service,” he answered, taking a cloak from a chair in
one corner of the room and wrapping himself in its folds. Then he
advanced to the ladies to make his adieux.
“Farewell, madam,” he said, bowing with courtly grace to my lady, and
raising her hand to his lips.
“M. de Launay,” she replied, “I can find no words to apologise for the
insult offered you in this house.”
“Madame,” the marquis answered gallantly, “I beg that you will banish
the episode from your memory.”
“That is impossible,” she said quickly. “That guest of ours should
be so served, and to be powerless to prevent it! But say, rather, au
revoir, monsieur,” she continued, with kindling eyes, “for I, too,
shall ride to Exeter to-morrow, and will myself interview Sir Richard
Danvers on your behalf! We shall see whether the name of Ingram does
not still possess weight sufficient to annul this outrage and to punish
the perpetrators!” And she shot a scornful glance in my direction.
“Very good, madam,” I answered, “only in that case I shall ride with
you. I have no desire,” I continued with a sneer, “that my Lord Danvers
should hear anything but the truth.”
“Then I pray you keep behind me, sir!” she replied haughtily. “I would
not have you taken for lackey of mine!”
I made no reply to this. What reply could I make? Instead, I gave a
sharp order and the troopers fell into place, the marquis in their
midst. They filed through the open doorway with the clank of steel, and
the tramp of their footsteps died away down the hall. I waited until
the last one had left the room and then prepared to follow.
Once as I crossed the threshold I looked back, and the light fell upon
the tall figure of my lady, her sister at her side, then the door
closed upon the room and its inmates, and passing quickly through the
hall, in which a little crowd of scared servants had gathered, I went
out into the night. Outside, at the foot of the steps leading to the
main entrance, I found the troopers waiting, the light from the open
doorway shining upon their horses, my own amongst the number.
I bade one of the men give up his mount to the marquis, and collecting
the men I had stationed upon the terrace, I climbed into the saddle,
and so for the first time I left Cleeve.
The fog had collected somewhat, though it was still very dark, and the
brightly lighted room from which we had come rendered the blackness
that surrounded us more opaque.
For myself I was content to resign the lead to Cornet Graham and to
follow behind the others with only my thoughts for company. And if ever
there was all hell in a man’s heart, it was in mine that night.
For now that I was alone, now that I had no longer to keep up
appearances, I gave way to the passion I had so far restrained. That
I--I of all men, should be struck by a woman! And in public! As the
thought of the men in front who had been witnesses of my disgrace
recurred to me, I ground my teeth with anger and cursed this woman who
had brought me to shame.
But bitterly, bitterly should she repent the blow! Oh, to hurt her!
to humble her pride! to see her at my feet begging for mercy--and to
refuse it! I gloated over the thought, and I swore in my heart that I
would not spare her in the hour of my triumph one throb of the pain
I was now enduring. She should drink the cup of my revenge to the
bitterest dregs; and so taken up was I with these thoughts that it was
not until I saw the lights in the windows of the houses on either side
of me that I realised that we had reached the village.
I spurred forward then and overtook the troop in front. From the
length of the street and the size of the houses I saw that the place
was larger than I had been given to understand. Here and there, at the
trampling of our horses’ feet, windows were opened, and dark figures
appeared in the doorways, or ran out, heedless of the falling rain,
into the street. But the sight of the troopers’ swarthy faces and of
the hated uniform they wore drove them swiftly indoors again. For
though it was June of the year 1690, and Dutch William had now been two
years upon the throne, yet so great was the terror which the “Tangier
devils” had inspired throughout the West, both in friend and foe alike,
at the time of Monmouth’s ill-fated rebellion, that Catholics though
the villagers were, they knew by past experience that these very
troopers who had fought for James at Sedgemoor and elsewhere were now
equally ready to plunder them as Papists and Jacobites in the name of
William; and behind their barred doors there was many a one, I wot,
that night who trembled for the loss of such goods as he possessed and
for the safety of his women folk.
At the end of the street the cornet turned sharply to the right and
entered a square courtyard, at the opposite side of which stood an
old-fashioned inn.
A blaze of light came from its windows, through one of which could be
distinguished the dark figures of the troopers of De Brito’s party.
We drew rein before the door, and almost ere we could dismount the
landlord stood upon the steps.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said, bowing. “What is your pleasure?”
He was a round-faced, portly man, with an air somewhat above that of
the keeper of a country inn. There was a nameless something about him
that told me he had at one time been a soldier.
“You can find room for us to-night, I suppose?” I answered.
“Well,” he replied slowly, “my rooms are small, but if a couple of
lofts----”
“That will do for us,” the sergeant said gruffly. “Better a board than
six feet of earth on such a night.”
“Aye, and good liquor in plenty to soften it,” cried a trooper, and the
men laughed.
“You shall find no complaint with that, I promise you,” said the
landlord. “There are wines to suit all tastes, and as for my cider,
’tis second to none in all Devonshire.”
“To the devil with your cider!” said a trooper roughly. “Give us
brandy, hot, and of the best, if you would keep this hen coop from
being burned round your ears!”
“And a pretty wench to serve it!” cried another.
“As you please, gentlemen! As you please!” the landlord hastened to
say. “None should know better than I how to treat you. I have cognac
here--the best out of France. But come inside, gentlemen, and my men
shall look to your horses.” He turned and led the way indoors.
In a square, stone-paved room on the right of the passage we found De
Brito’s troopers, a plentiful supply of ale upon the low tables before
them, who greeted their comrades with boisterous shouts of welcome.
“Would it not be advisable, monsieur, to seek another apartment?” said
M. de Launay. “Your men are gallant fellows, but save on the field of
battle, I prefer them at a distance.”
“By all means,” I answered. “You have another room?” I said, turning to
the landlord.
“This way,” he replied, leading me, closely followed by Cornet Graham
and the marquis, down a narrow, low-ceilinged passage.
“You have seen service yourself?” I said sharply.
“Aye, years ago,” he replied briefly. “I fought for the Swede.”
He stopped before a door upon the left, and with many apologies for
his lack of space, ushered us into what proved to be the kitchen of
the inn. It was a large room well stocked with articles pertaining to
its character. Here a row of brightly polished pans, there a score of
reeves of onions, while from a hook in one corner hung a well-cured ham.
Before a great fire of logs De Brito was sitting, a leather flask and
tankard upon a table at his side, to the former of which I saw he had
been paying liberal attention. He looked up as we entered.
“So you’ve come at last,” he said thickly. “Landlord, bring glasses
for these gentlemen, and more brandy. What the devil!” he broke off
suddenly, catching sight of my face. “Did the dove turn out to be a
hawk, after all? Well, she has not marred your beauty!” and he laughed
insolently.
But I could brook no more.
All the passion that was smouldering in my heart flashed into sudden
flame.
“Curse you!” I cried, and I caught the tankard from the table and flung
the contents in his face; then, drawing my sword, I placed myself on
guard.
He dashed the liquor from his eyes (it had been half full of the raw
spirit) and sprang to his feet with a furious oath.
But he had reckoned without his cost. Even as he snatched his blade
from the table where he had laid it the fumes of the brandy that he
had been drinking heavily mounted to his brain. He staggered forward,
his knees gave way under him, and he fell to the floor, where he lay,
unable to rise.
I sheathed my sword, and turning on my heel, left the room. In the
passage I encountered the landlord returning, a tray of glasses in his
hand. He readily agreed to my request to be shown some chamber where
I could sleep, and lighting a candle, he led me up a narrow flight of
stairs and stopped before a door upon the landing.
“It is small,” he said doubtfully, entering the room, “and there is but
room for one.”
“So much the better,” I answered, for I wished to be alone with my
thoughts. I took the candle from his hand, therefore, and with a few
directions as to the disposal of M. de Launay and upon other matters, I
bade him “good-night.”
I stood for a moment at the open door. From the troopers below came a
confused babel of oaths and laughter, mingled with the clatter of cups.
Then, closing the door and shooting the bolt behind me, I pulled off my
coat and heavy riding boots and threw myself, dressed as I was, upon
the couch. And there for hours I lay, planning my great revenge, whilst
ever before my eyes was my lady’s proud face as I had last seen it,
alight with scorn. It was far into the night and the noises from the
rooms below had long since died away when I finally dropped into the
sleep of utter exhaustion.