Back in London, his pockets full of money, fine clothes upon his
back, and fine houses open to him when he went there in company
with Lord Claud, it was small wonder if Tom forgot his fears after
a few days of such a life, and was only rendered uneasy when
whispers reached him from time to time to the effect that the
authorities were hot upon the track of the daring highway robber
who had succeeded in making away with the Queen's gold.
A reward had been offered for the discovery and apprehension of the
miscreants concerned in the affair, and at first Tom had felt half
afraid to show his face in the streets by daylight. But after a few
days had passed by, and nothing had happened to arouse his
anxieties, he had taken heart of grace. Lord Claud's example of
nonchalance gave him coolness and courage; whilst the language and
behaviour of the fine folks with whom he came in contact helped to
dull and deaden any pangs of conscience which the wickedness of the
midnight raid might otherwise have occasioned him.
He saw perfectly well, from the glances of admiration and arch
reproof levelled at Lord Claud by the ladies in the gay company
which he kept, that his patron was suspected in many quarters of
being concerned in this recent robbery. Fine dames would tap him
with their fans, and ask him what he had been doing at St. Albans
on such and such days; and when he replied as to his whereabouts
with that easy grace of bearing which always characterized his
dealings with men and women alike, they would shake their heads,
flirt their fans, and call him by whimsical names incomprehensible
to Tom, but which he knew implied that he was suspected of being
concerned in very wild and lawless deeds.
Yet these suspicions on the part of the ladies raised this handsome
golden-haired Adonis to a higher pinnacle of favour than ever. It
seemed to Tom that so long as a crime was carried out with dash,
and verve, and success, it only brought a man fame and honour. He
shivered sometimes when he thought of his mother and sister, and
what they would think if they suspected that he had been led into
an open act of law breaking and robbery. But he felt a little
flattered in the society of these fine dames, when he saw that they
looked at him with interest and curiosity, and wondered if he had
played the part of lieutenant to their hero in the recent exploit.
He had been growing used to the strange ways of that portion of the
London world in which Lord Claud had his sphere, but even yet it
did seem strange, when he began to think about it, that a man
believed to be a notorious but exceedingly clever criminal, should
be received, courted, flattered, and made much of, as was Lord
Claud, just because of his handsome presence and dashing grace of
bearing, and because he had never been caught.
Tom wondered sometimes how these same faces would look at them,
were they to be carried in irons to Newgate; and he fancied that
under such circumstances they would wear a totally different
aspect.
But for the most part he sought to drown thought and reflection by
plunging into a vortex of gaiety. He was no longer laughed at as a
country bumpkin. He had been quick to pick up the airs of a man
about town. He dressed excellently, having toned down his first
fopperies; and finding that a rich and sober style best suited his
fine proportions, he adopted that, made his mark, and was treated
with respect and courtesy.
He had not learned the jargon of the day, and was a silent man in
company; but that was considered rather a distinguishing trait in
one who could handle the sword and lose his money at the gaming
tables with the aplomb that Tom had acquired. And a fine sum did he
lose, too, during the days that followed upon the escapade; for he
felt a sort of recklessness upon him, and as he had a sense of
being hunted down and tracked, he thought he might make the most of
freedom and wealth so long as they were his.
He was Lord Claud's guest for those days, feeling safer in his
company than elsewhere; and that worthy appeared not to know fear.
Indeed, he had succeeded in covering his tracks so well, that Tom
did not see how anything could be brought home to his door. It made
him think of words he had heard dropped before, to the effect that
to be Lord Claud's confederate was to be also his victim. He
wondered if there had been any truth in these insinuations, and
whether he was trusting in a man who was ready to save himself at
the risk of his friend.
It was difficult to believe this when in the company of his patron.
It was when alone that the doubts would at times assail him, and
therefore he was happier in the company of Lord Claud than in any
other.
He had not been to his old lodgings since his escapade. He felt an
odd sort of reluctance to facing honest Master Cale, and parrying
the questions which might be addressed to him. But he resolved not
to let a second Sunday pass without a visit; and upon the Saturday
he returned thither, dressed in his sober riding suit, and striving
to meet the welcome of his host with an air of unconcerned and
natural gaiety.
"Good Tom, you are welcome indeed!" exclaimed the perruquier
eagerly, taking him by the hand and drawing him within. "I have
been suffering no small anxiety upon your account, my lad. I trust
and hope without any cause."
Tom forced a smile, and hoped it was a natural one, as he asked
gaily:
"And wherefore this fear for me, good mine host?"
"There have been ugly whispers in the air ever since the robbery of
the gold on its way to Holland. Men will talk and wonder, and it
was known to all that Lord Claud had driven forth the day previous
northward from London, and that you were his companion. Men's
tongues have wagged for less than that, Tom, and for less weighty
matters."
The little man was scanning his guest's face somewhat earnestly.
Tom felt a most unwelcome qualm of shame and pain, such as he had
only experienced before when thinking of his mother and sister.
"Why, Master Cale, Lord Claud was but visiting his friends at St.
Albans, far enough away from where they say the robbery took place.
He will have no trouble in proving that he was never two miles from
St. Albans upon that night; and I was with him the whole time,
sharing his room and his company."
"Well, well, well," answered Cale, with a look of some relief, "I
would never willingly believe harm of any man. But there are more
strange tales flying about with regard to yon Lord Claud than about
almost any other man in town; and folks say that many a likely lad,
dashing and brave, has become confederate for a time with him, and
has then vanished no man knows whither. I would not that such a
fate should befall you, Tom."
A slight shiver ran through Tom's frame. He felt that there was an
ugly suggestion in these words. How easily might some disastrous
turn of fortune's wheel that other night have left him a victim
upon those fields instead of the gallant horse who carried him! How
skilfully and easily had Lord Claud played upon him, prompting him
to an act which a few months ago he would have shrunk from in the
greatest horror! There was something almost diabolic in the beauty,
the fascination, the cleverness, of the man. Tom made a resolution,
as these things flashed through his mind, that he would have no
more dealings with him, if this was what they led to. He even began
to doubt now whether it was true that he had applied in vain for
the reward promised them for their secret service expedition. It
might all be a part of a preconcerted plan, in order to cajole Tom
into thinking he had some sort of right to act as they had done
with regard to this money.
He began to feel doubts of everything now, and above all of
himself. Had he been made a tool of and a dupe? And was he walking
blindfold into a net ready for his feet?
He slept but restlessly upon his bed that night, revolving many
things in his mind, and almost resolving to see Lord Claud no more,
but to adopt a new method of life in this wonderful city, albeit he
scarcely knew what that life should be.
Tom's hot blood had been fired by the adventures of the past
months; his vanity had been flattered by the success which he had
met with; his self confidence (always rather too strong) had grown
and increased with great rapidity. He felt that without adventure
and peril of some sort life would be tame and flat. To live as
Master Cale lived, a quiet uneventful life of honest toil, seemed
repugnant to him. Even to do as Harry Gay did, and pass the time in
wandering between coffee houses and the play, or taking a wherry
and rowing hither and thither on the great river, or walking or
riding into the country--all this now seemed to him tame and
tiresome.
He turned and tossed upon his bed, wondering what had come to him,
and what life held in store for him. He thirsted for adventure, for
the excitements and perils which he had experienced of late. His
blood tingled at the memories he conjured up of those things he had
passed through--the strife of arms, the fierce joy of battle, the
breathless gallops from pursuing foes, and the hairbreadth perils
they had come through.
That was life! That was what he longed after! He cared little for
the gay resorts of town, save as an interlude. The life of the
streets soon palled upon him. But there was no attraction in the
thought of home and the peaceful existence there. He must see more
of the world, he must enjoy more of life, before he could ever
dream of going back to Gablehurst to live.
But what could he do? He fell asleep pondering upon this problem,
and when he awoke it was the first thought in his head.
But, as is so often the case when one has gone to sleep pondering
upon a problem, the solution had come to him during the hours of
unconsciousness, and he awoke with a new inspiration.
"Why not offer for the secret service?"
Tom pondered this question all the while that he was dressing.
There were difficulties in the way, of course. The Duke of
Marlborough--the only man to whom he could apply with any hope of
success--was out of the country; Tom knew not where he would be
found just now, though that could easily be ascertained. He himself
was ignorant of foreign tongues, although he had picked up a little
understanding of French, and could speak a few simple phrases. But
he had plenty of confidence in his strength and courage. He felt
that his energies demanded now a wider field of exercise; and if he
could but get his chance, he had full assurance that he would make
a brilliant name for himself in some way or another.
This idea brought back all his high spirits. He saw that it would
be necessary once more to consult Lord Claud, who would probably be
able to give him excellent advice. But after that, Tom told
himself, he would have no more dealings with that mysterious
personage, but would throw himself into the service of the great
Duke with such zealous goodwill as should lead him to fame and
fortune at last.
He had a feeling, also, that he should be happier out of London and
out of the country just at this juncture. Lord Claud's careless
indifference to consequences had had its effect upon him; but he
was not quite comfortable yet, and the feeling of being watched and
hunted for was an exceedingly unpleasant one.
He felt a distinct qualm of uneasiness that very morning as he and
his host sat at breakfast together.
"I am going to fetch Rosamund," said the perruquier, as the meal
drew to its close; "but if you will take my advice, good Tom, you
will not sally forth into the streets today."
"And wherefore not?" asked Tom.
"I misdoubt me that you are watched for here, Tom. It may be my
fancy, but several times during these past days I have seen
ill-looking fellows prowling nigh at hand--one or another of those
four bullies, of whose discomfiture Rosy has told me, and young
Harry also. Once the fellow they call Slippery Seal came boldly to
the shop asking news of you from the apprentice; but the lad had
the wit to reply that he thought you had ceased to lodge here.
Nevertheless I have seen one or another of them skulking about
since then, and it may be they will suspect that you may choose
today for a visit to us."
"And what do they watch me for?" asked Tom, with heightened colour,
but looking at Cale with an air of something almost like defiance,
though his heart misgave him the while.
"Nay, Tom, that is a question you should be able to answer better
than I. If there be no cause of offence against you, why, then, do
as you will, and go where you will. Yet men have ere now been haled
to prison and to the gallows for sins that have been less theirs
than those who set them on."
Tom's face was very grave. He was not afraid of adventure and
peril; but the thought of prison and disgrace--to say nothing of a
felon's death--seemed to paralyze the beating of his heart with a
numb sense of horror. Truly, if this sort of danger dogged his
steps, the sooner he was out of the country the better for himself!
But he would see Rosamund once more, and spend one happy day in her
company. If he went out into the streets, it had better be after
the summer dusk had fallen, when Cale took his daughter home. He
agreed, therefore, to remain within doors all that day; and he was
not sorry he had done so when presently he observed two of his
enemies slowly prowling past the house, scanning the windows
furtively, and talking together in very earnest tones.
Could it be possible that these men had been of the company
travelling with the troopers that night? Could they have got wind
in some mysterious way of what was afoot, and have followed to seek
his ruin? Tom had reason to know that these men bore him a grudge,
and had threatened revenge, and that they hated Lord Claud equally
with himself. Harry Gay had warned him that they were dangerous
fellows; and Tom had not lived all this while in London without
being well aware that there were ways and means of obtaining
information, and that every man had his price. If they suspected
him to be concerned in the robbery, they would take every possible
means to hunt him down.
Tom set his teeth as this thought came to him. To be the victim of
the spite of a party of low villains, who were only fit themselves
for the hangman's halter! The thought was not to be borne. Better,
far better, the life of the forest with Captain Jack! There at
least he would be free of this persecution; and perhaps the day
would come when he should find his foes at his mercy, and take his
revenge upon them!
A very little brooding of this sort sufficed to set Tom's hot blood
boiling. He had no wish to join himself with freebooters and law
breakers; but if they hunted him beyond a certain point, he would
not hesitate to fly to those who would give him safety and a
welcome. He had heard plenty of tales by this time of impoverished
gentlemen, disbanded soldiers, falsely-accused persons of all
sorts, who had been forced to fly to the freedom of the forest, and
live as they could. Since the days of bold Robin Hood there had
always been outlaws of the better, as well as the worse, sort. Tom
had no wish to throw aside his code of morality and honour; but if
men would not let him live as a peaceable citizen, they should
suffer for it!
To be cooped up in dusty streets amid hot brick walls during these
long beautiful summer days, was a thing not to be endured. Go he
would and must; and if he could not find work for himself in the
secret service, why not enter a secret service of another kind, and
teach the authorities not to hound a man too far?
This was Tom's method of reasoning--evading the question of his own
guilt by the excuse that he only took what was his by right. It is
easy to believe what one wishes to believe, and Tom had never found
it hard to persuade himself that what he desired was the best
course of action to pursue.
How cool and fresh the green glades of the forest would look in the
glancing June sunbeams! A good horse beneath him, the free skies
above, a trusty comrade at his side--what could be more pleasant?
Tom drew a deep breath and fell into musing thought. One thing was
very certain: he was in danger from those enemies of his. He would
take care not to be caught like a rat in a trap. He knew a better
way than that!
In musings such as these time swiftly fled away, and soon he heard
the voices of Rosamund and her father in the house below.
Rosamund greeted him with shining eyes, and a glance of keen
curiosity and soft admiration, which he found mighty pleasant. She
at least had not harboured unkind thoughts of him, and it was very
plain that he had become the hero of her girlish dreams. She wanted
him to tell her all that had befallen him since their last meeting.
She listened with eager, breathless attention to what he had to
say; and although he spoke nothing of the one event which was
always in his thoughts, it seemed as though she half suspected that
he had been the witness of, or the partaker in, some strange and
fearsome adventure, for the colour went and came in her cheeks, and
she seemed always waiting for more each time that he paused.
She asked in a low voice if he had heard anything of the bold act
of robbery; and Tom answered that he had heard a good deal. Coming
a pace or two nearer him, she looked wistfully into his face and
asked:
"Have they told you that there was one man of very goodly height,
strong of arm and stout of heart, who dropped his mask in the heat
of the fray, so that the moonbeams smote full upon his face, which
was only blacked above and below? Did you hear that news spoken by
any?"
"I think I heard that something of that sort had befallen,"
answered Tom as carelessly as his beating heart would allow.
"But oh, sir," she asked yet more earnestly, "did any tell you that
the tall bold robber was said to favour yourself? Indeed, some say
that it must surely be you--even though you were so far away!"
Tom looked as he felt, a little startled at that.
"How heard you that, Mistress Rose?"
"Harry Gay heard it in the taverns. It is the talk in some of them.
And he heard these four bad men, who were sworn to vengeance, as
that they have a halter about your neck already, and they only wait
till they have you safe to pull it tight.
"O Tom, Tom, do not let them do you this despite! Have a care, oh,
have a care how you fall into their hands, for they are without
mercy, and full of evil passions, and greedy for the promised gold.
They would swear any man's life away to obtain the reward; and how
much sooner yours, whom they hate!"
Tom felt a strange tremor run through him, half rage, with a dash
of fear, and some emotion sweeter than he had ever experienced
before, and therefore more strange. He suddenly found himself
clasping Rosamund's hands in his, and saying:
"Sweet Rose, would you care if hurt were to befall me?"
Her brimming eyes and quivering lips gave eloquent answer. He stood
very still, holding her hands clasped between his; and when he
released them, he answered with a new note in his voice:
"Have no fears, sweetheart. They shall not have me. I have plans
that will foil them yet. But think not too well of me, Rosamund. I
am not the hero you would make me out. I am a mad fellow, and have
played the fool once too often; but for all that they shall not get
me."
"Keep out of their clutches, and I care for nothing else!" cried
Rosamund, her eyes alight with excitement.
But they could exchange no more confidences, for Cale's voice was
heard summoning them to dinner; and after that meal they sat
together in the cool parlour, and passed the time in talk, having
no fear of being disturbed, for none knew of their being within.
Generally in summer weather Cale took his daughter for a long
ramble, and sometimes did not return to the house till after he had
left her at her aunt's house in Highgate.
The light slowly waned and faded. In the open country the day would
be bright for some while longer, but in narrow streets it went
faster. Down in the basement, where they had taken their supper, it
was growing quite dark, although no lamp had yet been lit. Cale was
just saying that he must take Rosamund home, and was debating
within himself whether it would be wise for Tom to accompany them,
when there was a sharp, determined knocking at the door, which made
Rosamund jump quickly up with blanching cheeks, whilst Cale threw a
startled look at Tom, whose face had grown suddenly set and pale.
"Open in the Queen's name!" cried a loud and authoritative voice
from without.
And Cale rose at that summons, for it was not one he might dare to
disobey.
The moment he was gone Rosamund sprang to her feet.
"Quick, quick! This way! There is a window at the back. I will let
you out, and bar it after you, and throw the key away. Come, I will
show you where!"
Tom sprang after her into a little back kitchen, the door of which
the girl promptly locked and barred behind them. The only other
outlet was a narrow window, fastened by a bar that could be locked
across it with a padlock. This she flung open, and disclosed to
view a narrow court beneath.
"Jump out," she cried; "run across, and you can easily scramble
upon the roof of yon low outbuilding. From thence you can creep
along into the lane at the back; and, if no one be watching, drop
down there and fly for your life. But if there be a spy set, then
climb up by the gutterings upon the roof--Harry Gay has done it
many a time--and you will find a hundred ways of outwitting them
and escaping down some back alley.
"O Tom, make haste! I hear angry voices in parley with my father.
He will detain them as long as may be. But be thou gone quickly.
Oh, do not delay!"
"I will not," answered Tom, with his hands upon the windowsill;
"and I thank you from my heart for your goodwill to me this night.
Give me one kiss, sweetheart, and bid me good speed. Pray Heaven
you have a welcome for me when you see me next!"
She kissed him with the tears standing in her eyes.
"I shall always have a welcome for you, Tom," she answered; "I
shall think of you always till I see you again. But oh, go! go now!
And Heaven prosper and be with you! Oh, they are coming! Delay no
longer!"
Tom was already outside the window, and now sped forth to do her
bidding. She saw him scramble up the rough wall of the building
opposite, and make his rapid way along, as she had said. She craned
out to see what he would do when he reached the corner, and watched
as he made a careful survey, and then dropped into the lane at the
back. She listened with all her ears, but there was no sound of
pursuit or struggle.
It had been as she hoped. No one had thought of that possible way
of escape. No doubt the back door of the yard was watched; but she
would never have sent him out by that.
Instantly she closed and barred the window, throwing the little key
away into the court below. Then she softly unlocked the door and
set it ajar, and began washing her dishes in the dim twilight of
the scullery, singing a little song to herself the while.
In the house above there was the sound of tramping feet and loud
voices. She heard her father say quietly:
"Her Majesty's warrant must be obeyed. Seek what you will, and take
what you will. I know nothing of any criminal. I have none such in
hiding here. I am an honest citizen, and have nothing to fear. Do
your will. I hinder you not."
The next minute Cale had come softly into the back kitchen, and was
exchanging a silent but meaning glance with his daughter.
He saw in a moment by her face that all was well. Tom had made good
his escape. The longer the search continued in the upper rooms, so
much the longer would the fugitive have to put distance between him
and his pursuers.
At last the feet came downstairs, and a lantern was flashed all
round the basement rooms.
"Here is a window!" cried one. "If the bar were down a man could
squeeze himself out. When was this window last opened?"
Rosamund looked up and said quietly:
"The key is lost. We cannot open it. What are you wanting in this
house, gentlemen?"
She spoke in a soft voice, and the rough fellows answered with more
gentleness.
"We are looking for one Thomas Tufton, your father's lodger, for
whose apprehension we hold a warrant. He was seen to enter this
house last night, and has not left it since."
"He left it a short time ago, in the dusk," answered Rosamund
indifferently. "But wherefore is he arrested?"
"We have sworn information that he was seen to be one of the men
concerned in the recent robbery of the Queen's gold. We have
testimony enough to hang him, if we can but lay hold upon him. Did
he say where he was going, mistress?"
"I think he spoke of Rotherhithe," answered Rosamund, after a
moment's reflection; "but I paid no special heed."
At this moment an impatient voice from the open door above cried
out:
"Why do you not bring him forth? He must be there still! What means
the delay? He can be an ugly customer, truly, but sure you have
mastered him by this!"
In a few minutes more Rosamund saw the ugly, shifty face of
Slippery Seal drawing near to them, and he was followed by another
of the same crew, peering eagerly this way and that, as though they
looked to see Tom pinioned in the midst of the group.
"Where is he?" they cried.
"Flown!" answered the others, with a touch of sullenness in their
voices. "You have led us a fine chase, truly; first to be made
fools of by that dashing young spark, whom it is not good to meddle
with, and then disturbing this honest citizen and his daughter!
Zounds! you drunken fellows, if you lead us this sort of dance we
shall believe no word you say again. I trow well that you were all
of you more than half drunk upon the night you professed to see
this thing done. How are we to know you are to be trusted in
swearing it was this young man at all? Master Cale speaks well of
him, and his word is worth twenty oaths from the likes of you.
"Goodnight, master; goodnight, mistress. I am sorry we disturbed
you on the testimony of these ill-living fellows."
Rosamund's heart beat high with joy and triumph. She felt she could
have kissed the burly officer of the law. But her bright colour
paled again as she heard the exclamation of Slippery Seal, prefaced
by a string of horrid oaths.
"He has escaped! These Cales are hiding him! But he shall not
escape us! We will not lose the reward. After him, I say, after
him, all of us! I know the tracks the fellow will make. It will go
hard if we get not up with him ere he has shaken the dust of London
from his feet!"