THE EXPLOIT OF MASTER DIRK HATFIELD
Ethan recovered himself in a very few moments; and then he told Dale
the story of the dispatch and the part which Danvers had played in its
disappearance.
“And so it has fallen into British hands at last,” said Dale,
regretfully. “Too bad; for you and Captain Jones did all you could to
save it, I can see that.”
Just then the landlady came out and announced that their supper was
ready. In a few moments they were seated with the smoking bacon and
eggs before them, also some golden butter and a white loaf. There was a
broad window looking out upon a sort of porch at the side of the inn,
and just outside this window Danvers and young Wheelock sat engaged in
an earnest conversation.
“The bacon is good,” said Dale with great satisfaction, “and the eggs
are perfect. It’s a dish for a king after the food of the prison.”
Hoof-beats sounded upon the road. Looking through the window they
saw a man, mounted upon a powerful black horse, draw up and dismount.
He wore long boots, a full skirted coat and a cocked hat with a star
of silver metal at one side. In his belt were a pair of long heavy
pistols; and as he gave his horse to a groom he lilted a rollicking
air. The landlady, who had just brought in a fresh dish of eggs, at
sight of him dropped it upon the floor, at the same time uttering an
exclamation of alarm.
“Again,” she cried, in apparent terror, “he’ll have the magistrates
upon me next, the villain!”
“What is it, good woman?” asked Dale, curiously.
“That I can’t tell, sir,” replied the hostess. “It would be as much as
my life would be worth, perhaps.”
“Don’t take the saddle off,” directed the newcomer in a deep voice,
“and stand ready to bring him out immediately when I give the word.” He
tossed the groom a crown piece, then raised his voice to a shout. “Ho,
the house,” he cried. “Mistress Parsons, why do you not come out to
welcome an old patron?”
“A patron whom I wish I’d never laid eyes upon,” said the landlady.
But, nevertheless, she bustled out at once, and they could hear her
greeting the man in the cocked hat with well assumed effusiveness.
There was a slow-moving, chuckle-headed fellow employed at the inn in
some capacity, who happened to be in the room at the time. He shook his
head from side to side, and grinned widely.
“Mistress Parsons don’t like Dirk Hatfield to come here,” he
volunteered, to Ethan and Dale. “But she daren’t order him away.”
“Why not?” asked Ethan for want of something better to say. The man
opened his round eyes still wider and exclaimed in tones of wonder,
“What, drive off Dirk Hatfield! Why he’d kill us all in our beds. Don’t
you know him, sirs? He’s a highwayman,” in a low voice of terror; “they
say that once he stopped the Lord Mayor of London himself and made him
deliver. Oh, he’s a daring rogue, indeed.”
Before they had time to comment upon this the landlady ushered Master
Hatfield into the room. He was a large man with wide shoulders and
deep chest, and he walked with the swagger of a bravo. At sight of
Dale’s scarlet coat he started; but he recovered himself immediately,
hitched one of his heavy pistols nearer to his hand, and took a seat at
a table near the window.
“Now, Mistress Parsons,” said he, “I’ll have some food; and make all
the speed you can, for I must hurry on.”
“Very well, sir,” said the landlady with a bow, “I’ll attend to it
myself, sir.”
She bustled out of the room to the kitchen, and the highwayman spread
his booted legs under the table, tucked his thumbs into his belt and
regarded Ethan and Dale with careless indifference. But his attention
was soon drawn from them to Danvers and Wheelock who still sat
conversing upon the side porch near the window. Their tones had grown
louder, and Ethan could plainly hear what passed between them, as could
Dale and Master Dirk Hatfield.
“And how did you learn that Fochard had deceived you?” Wheelock was
saying.
“He sent me word himself that he had the paper--that he had taken it
from Siki. He had intended disposing of it himself, but at the last
moment he grew afraid; the French might call it treason, you know, to
give comfort to the enemy in the way of news. So he crossed the channel
in a French vessel----”
“Why,” exclaimed Wheelock, “it was the British frigate Sea Horse he was
in at Plymouth, was it not?”
“It was. The Sea Horse took the vessel in which he had crossed: but
when the captain learned that Fochard had secret business with me he
knew that for the time at least he was an important personage and so
entered the river and sent for me.”
He drew out a packet, stained and soiled, and sealed with great
splotches of red wax, and laid it upon the table between them with much
satisfaction. Ethan drew in his breath sharply at sight of it and his
hand closed like a vise upon Dale’s arm.
“The secret dispatch,” he whispered.
The boy was in such a position that Danvers, even should he look into
the room, could not see him; but Ethan had a clear view of the two upon
the porch, and kept his eyes upon them constantly.
“Ten thousand pounds,” said Wheelock in a brooding sort of way. “It’s a
great deal of money to give up to that French rascal.”
“I know it,” said Danvers, “but those were his terms. He wanted all the
money and kindly offered the credit to me. And that was something; for
he could have just as well as not have taken the papers to Lord North
and received both.”
“The ten thousand pounds will be delivered to whoever turns over the
paper, and no questions asked, I suppose,” said Wheelock.
“Yes,” laughed Danvers, once more stuffing the packet into the breast
pocket of his coat, “but don’t think to make off with it, my lad; I
have it safely here, and mean to keep it.”
All this seemed to interest Master Hatfield vastly. He leaned intently
forward, and the expression upon his face was eager and alert. Dale
nudged Ethan and the latter nodded that he saw this sudden display of
attention.
“It will not now be long before the dispatch is in the hands of the
ministry at London,” continued Danvers, “if these horses hold out.”
He paused suddenly, for he had caught sight of the intent face of
the highwayman and the covetous snap of his eyes. His voice, when he
resumed, had fallen much lower; and in a few moments the two left the
porch and entered a private room of the inn.
While he ate his supper of capon pie and smacked his lips over his
stone mug the gentleman of the road smiled grimly. Ethan and Hale
shortly withdrew, and once clear of the room they looked at each other
significantly.
“The paper,” said Dale, “will soon be sought by good Master Hatfield,
if I am not much mistaken.”
Just then the chuckle-headed attendant at the inn came out and called
to a hostler who stood at the stable door.
“What’s wanted?” asked the latter.
“You’re to bring up the carriage for the two gentlemen immediately,”
said the other.
His mistress, her eyes full of anger, appeared behind him at this and
whirled him within as she hissed,
“You thick-head! Were you not told to give the order quietly?”
“They have taken the alarm,” commented Dale, referring to Danvers and
Wheelock. “The knight of the road did not impress them.”
“They will not wait for refreshments, even,” said Ethan. “And night is
falling, too. They would be safer if they remained.”
Night had come upon the still countryside while they stood talking
before the inn; and the darkness was growing deeper and deeper with
each passing moment. When the stable-men brought the carriage around to
the front its lamps were lit and glimmered redly.
“These two travelers must be in a hurry,” said one of the men to the
other.
“Indeed, yes,” answered the second. “It’s going to be a dark night, and
they’ll have trouble before they reach the highroad to London. This one
is badly cut up a piece below here.”
“But the road won’t be their greatest hindrance,” whispered the first
speaker. “Don’t you see that Master Hatfield has ordered out Black
George? There is Will Hampton with him now.”
The two Americans turned their eyes instantly toward a side door to the
stable, from which came the faint glimmer of a lantern. A third groom
was leading the great black horse of Hatfield out into the yard; and in
the sickly flare of the light they also made out the tall figure of the
highwayman, bending over and looking to the priming of his pistols.
“I must get the dispatch at once,” said Ethan hurriedly.
He was about darting into the inn, but Dale caught him by the arm.
“Not so fast,” said the Virginian. “Let Danvers know who you are and
he’ll sell us out without hesitation.”
“You are right,” said Ethan.
A clatter of hoofs upon the stones caused them to turn once more toward
the stable-yard. Master Dirk Hatfield had thrown himself into the
saddle, and now with a wave of his hand to the hostler, which looked
much like a warning to silence, he disappeared in the gloom. Danvers
and Wheelock soon came out and entered their vehicle.
“Well?” said Dale inquiringly.
“I’ll follow behind and stop them on the road,” said Ethan, resolutely.
“Then I can get the paper, if possible, and slip away before Danvers
can reach the ear of any one to betray me.”
“I’m with you,” said Richard Dale.
Ethan clasped his hand in silence. At that moment the carriage started
up the dark road. A boy was driving it, and he was compelled to go
slowly, so they had no trouble in keeping it within hearing; for it was
impossible to see more than a dozen yards ahead, and the lamps were but
pin points of flame invisible from behind.
Suddenly there was a shout, a shrill cry and the sound of plunging
horses.
“He’s upon them already,” shouted Ethan.
Both he and Dale broke into a stumbling run down the dark road toward
the sounds. Then came a pistol shot, another cry, the confused sound
of voices, and at last rapid hoofbeats flying along the road. When
they reached the scene they found the driver crouched in fear by
the roadside, one of his horses lying in a tangle of harness, while
Danvers, supported by Wheelock, was bleeding and unconscious. Ethan
seized one of the carriage lamps, flashed its dim rays about, and took
in all this. But he kept his face hidden as much as possible.
“Help!” called Wheelock, eagerly, as the footsteps of the newcomers
fell upon his hearing. “A highwayman has attacked and has robbed us.”
“Of your money?” said Ethan, a tremble in his voice.
“No; of a paper--a very valuable paper. Get horses; pursue him; take
him dead or alive, and the reward will open your eyes.”
Ethan and Dale looked at each other, but neither spoke; from far down
the dark road the hoofs of the great black horse rang ever more faintly
upon the frozen ground.