sure--to be sure."
"I tell you, Bentley," I continued, impressively, "so sure as he crosses
swords with the fellow, Jack is a dead man."
"Humph!" says Bentley, after we had gone some little way in silence.
"Man Dick, I'm greatly minded to tell thee a matter."
"Well?" I enquired, listlessly.
"But on second thoughts, I won't, Dick," says he, "for 'silence is
golden,' as the saying is!"
"Why then," says I, "go you on to the house; I'm minded to walk in the
rose-garden awhile," for I had caught the flutter of Pen's cloak at the
end of one of the walks.
"Walk?" repeated Bentley, staring. "Rose-garden? But Jack will be for a
game of picquet--"
"I'll be with you anon," says I, turning away.
"Hum!" says Bentley, scratching his chin, and presently sets off towards
the house, whistling lustily.
I found Penelope in the yew-walk, leaning against the statue of a satyr.
And looking from the grotesque features above to the lovely face below,
I suddenly found my old heart a-thumping strangely--for beside this very
statue, in almost the same attitude, her mother had once stood long ago
to listen to the tale of my hopeless love. For a moment it almost seemed
that the years had rolled backward, it almost seemed that the thin grey
hair beneath my wig might be black once more, my step light and elastic
with youth. Instinctively, I reached out my hands and took a swift step
across the grass, then, all at once she looked up, and seeing me,
smiled.
My hands dropped.
"Penelope," I said.
"Uncle Dick," says she, her smile fading, "why, what is it?"
"Naught, my dear," says I, trying to smile, "old men have strange
fancies at times--"
"Nay, but what was it?" she repeated, catching my hands in hers.
"Child," says I, "child, you are greatly like what your mother was
before you."
"Am I?" says she very low, looking at me with a new light in her eyes.
Then she leaned suddenly forward and kissed me.
"Why, Pen!" says I, all taken aback.
"I know," she nodded, "on Monday my hand, on Wednesday my cheek, and on
Sunday my lips--"
"And to-day is Friday!"
"What if it is, sir," says she, tossing her head, "I made that rule
simply for peace and quietness sake; you and Uncle Bentley were forever
pestering me to death, you know you were."
"Were we?" says I, chuckling, "well, I'm one ahead of him to-day,
anyhow, Pen."
Talking thus, we came to the rose-garden (Pen's special care) and here
we must needs fall a-sorrowing over the dead flowers.
"And yet," says Pen, pausing beside a bush whereon hung a few faded
blooms, "all will be as sweet, and fresh, and glorious again next year."
"Yes," I answered, heavily, "next year." And I sighed again, bethinking
me of the changes this next year must bring to all of us.
"Tell me, Uncle Dick," says she, suddenly, laying a hand on either of my
shoulders, "how did father hurt his foot?"
"Why, to be sure," says I, readily, "'twas an accident. You must know
'twas as we came down the steps at 'The Chequers', Pen; talking and
laughing, d'ye see, he tripped and fell--caught his spur, I fancy."
"But he wore no spurs, Uncle Dick," says she, mighty demure.
"Oh--why--didn't he so, Pen?" says I, a little hipped. "Well, then
he--er--just--tripped, you know--fell, you understand."
"On the steps, Uncle Dick?"
"Aye, on the steps," I nodded.
"Prithee did he fall up the steps or down the steps, Uncle Dick?"
"Down, Pen, down; he simply tripped down the steps and--and there you
have it."
"But prithee Uncle Dick--"
"Nay, nay," says I, "the game waits for me, Pen--I must go."
But at this moment, as luck would have it, Bentley reappeared, nor was I
ever more glad to see him.
"Aha, man Dick," cries he, wagging his finger at me. "Walk in the
rose-garden, was it? Oh, for shame, to so abuse my confidence--Dick, I
blush for thee; and Jack's a roaring for thee, and the game waits for
thee; in a word--begone! And to-day, Pen," says he, as I turned away,
"to-day is Friday!" and he stooped and kissed her pretty cheek.
I had reached the terrace when I stopped all at once and, moved by a
sudden thought, I turned about and hurriedly retraced my steps. They
were screened from sight by one of the great yew hedges, but as I
approached I could hear Bentley's voice:
"His horse?" says Bentley.
"Yes," says Pen, "and Saladin's such a quiet old horse as a rule!"
"But what's his horse got to do with it?" says Bentley.
"Why, you were there, Uncle Bentley. Saladin jibbed, didn't he, just as
father had one foot in the stirrup ready to mount?"
"Oh! Ha! Hum!" says Bentley. "Did Jack tell you all that, Pen?"
"Who else?" says she, "'twas you caught his bridle, wasn't it?"
"I? Hum! The bridle?" says Bentley, "why--egad, Pen--"
"And Uncle Dick caught father as he fell," she continued.
"Did Jack tell thee all that?" says Bentley.
"How should I know else?" says she.
"Lord!" says Bentley.
"And 'twas you caught the bridle, now, wasn't it?" says she, carelessly.
[Illustration: "Oh! Ha! Hum!" says Bentley, "did Jack tell you all that,
Pen?" _Page 80._]
"Why--er--since you mention it,--yes--I suppose so," mumbled Bentley,
"oh, yes, certainly I caught the bridle--surprisingly agile in one o'
my size, Pen, eh? But egad, the game waits--I must be off, but a kiss
first--for saving thy father for thee, Pen."
Waiting for no more, I turned and set off towards the house, but as I
once more reached the terrace, up comes Bentley behind me, whistling
lustily as usual.
"Why Dick," says he, "where have you sprung from?"
"Bentley," says I, shaking my head, "it's in my mind you've been a vasty
fool!"
"For what, Dick?"
"For catching that bridle!" says I. "Why on earth couldn't you be
content to let him trip down the steps as we agreed a week ago?"
"Why then, what of Jack's story of Saladin's jibbing--though strike me
purple, Dick, if I thought he had enough imagination."
"Do you think he did tell her so?" says I.
"To be sure he did, Dick, unless--"
"Humph!" says I, "let's go and ask him."
Side by side we entered the great hall, and side by side we came to the
door of the library; now the door was open, and from within came the
sound of Jack's voice.
"I tell thee 'twas nought but a stone, Pen," he was saying, "I say, an
ordinary, loose cobble-stone! Good Gad, madam, and why shouldn't it be
a cobble-stone? Gentlemen are forever twisting their ankles on
cobble-stones! I tell you--" Hereupon Bentley threw open the door, but I
entered first.
"No, no, Jack!" I cried, "'twas down the steps--you tripped down the
steps at 'The Chequers,' you know you did!"
"Nay, 'twas Saladin jibbed,--don't you remember?" says Bentley.
"Why, Dick and Bentley!" cries Jack, staring from one to the other of
us, "what a plague's all this? Don't I know how I hurt my own foot? I
say 'twas a cobble-stone, and a cobble-stone it shall be. Lord! how
could ye try to fill our maid's pretty head with such folly? Shame on ye
both! Why not stick to the truth--and my cobble-stone?"
"And now, dear Sir John," says Pen, very soft and demure, "pray tell
me--how _did_ you hurt your foot?"
"Hey--what?" spluttered Jack, "don't I tell you--"
"A flight of steps, a stirrup, and a stone!" sighed Pen, shaking her
head at us each in turn.
"Now look'ee, Pen," says Jack, trying to bluster, "I say I'm not to be
badgered and brow-beaten by a slip of a girl--I say I'm not, by heaven!"
"Oh, my dears, my dears!" sighed Pen, reprovingly, "Isn't it time you
learned that you can keep few--very few secrets from me, who understand
you all so well because I love you all so well? I have been your
playfellow and companion so long that, methinks, I know you much better
than you know yourselves; I, who have had my word in all your councils?
How foolish then to think to put me off with such flimsy stories. Of
course I shall find out all about it, sooner or later, I always do. Yes,
I shall, even if I must needs hide in corners sirs, and hearken at
keyholes, and peep and pry--so I warn you." And with this, she nodded
and turned and left us to stare blankly at one another.
"That settles it!" said Bentley, gloomily, "she'll no more swallow thy
cobble-stone than Dick's flight of steps, Jack. She'll know the truth
before the week is out!"
"The minx!" cried Jack, "the jade!" And with the word he snatched off
his wig and hurled it into a corner.
"Jack," says I, "what's to be done?"
"Done?" he roared, "I'll pack her off to her Aunt Sophia to-morrow!"
"Aye," says Bentley, "but--will she go?"
"Bentley," says Jack, "I'll thank you to reach me my wig!"
CHAPTER FOUR
_Of how We fell in with a Highwayman at
the Cross Roads_
Myself and Bentley were returning from another dog-fight. This time my
dog had lost (which was but natural, seeing its very unfit condition,
though to be sure it looked well enough at a glance). Alas! the sport is
not what it was in my young days, when rogues can so put off a sick dog
upon the unsuspecting. Methinks 'tis becoming a very brutal, degrading
practice--have determined to have done with dog-fighting once and for
all. Bentley was in a high good humour (as was but to be expected,
seeing he had won nigh upon two hundred guineas of me), but then, as I
have said, Bentley never wins but he must needs show it.
"By the way," said he, breaking off in the middle of the air he was
humming, "did you see him at the fight?"
"Him?" says I.
"Raikes," nodded Bentley. "Man Dick, I never see the fellow but my
fingers itch for his throat. I heard some talk that he had won a
thousand or so from young Vesey, by this one bout alone."
"Humph!" says I.
"Come, Dick," says Bentley, "let's get on; he cannot be so very far
behind, and I have no stomach for his society--I'll race you to the
cross roads for fifty."
"I'll hurry myself for no such fellow as Raikes!" says I.
"Nor fifty guineas?"
"No," says I, "nor fifty guineas!"
Whereupon, Bentley yielding to my humour, we rode on with never a word
betwixt us. It lacked now but a short three weeks to Christmas, and
every day served but to bring Jack nearer to his grave, and add a
further load to that which pressed upon my heart. At such times the
thought of Pen, and the agony I must see in her eyes so soon, drove me
well-nigh frantic. In this rough world men must be prepared for
fortune's buffets--and shame to him that blenches, say I--but when
through us Fate strikes those we fain would shelter, methinks it is
another matter. Thus, had Jack proved coward, I for one should have
rejoiced for Pen's sake, but as it was, no power on earth could stay
the meeting, and this Christmas would bring her but anguish, and a great
sorrow. With all these thoughts upon my mind I was very silent and
despondent--and what wonder! As for Bentley, he, on the contrary,
manifested an indifference out of all keeping with his character, an
insensibility that angered and disgusted me not a little, but surprised
and pained me, most of all.
So it was in moody silence that we walked our horses up the hill where
the beacon stands, and were barely on top, when we heard the sound of
rapidly approaching hoofs behind us, and a few minutes later Sir Harry
Raikes with his friend, Captain Hammersley, galloped up.
Hereupon Bentley, in his usual easy, inconsequent fashion, fell into
conversation with them, but as for me, having bowed in acknowledgment of
their boisterous salutation, I relapsed once more into gloomy thought.
Little by little however, it became apparent to me that for some reason
I had become a mark for their amusement; more than once I caught them
exchanging looks, or regarding me from the corners of their eyes in such
fashion as set my ears a-tingling. The Captain was possessed of a
peculiarly high-pitched, falsetto laugh, which, recurring at frequent
intervals (and for no reason as I could see), annoyed me almost beyond
bearing. But I paid no heed, staring straight before me and meditating
upon a course of action which had been in my head for days past--a plan
whereby Jack's duel might be prevented altogether, and our sweet maid
shielded from the sorrow that must otherwise blight her life so very
soon. As I have said before, there was a time, years ago, when I was
accounted a match for any with the small-sword, and though a man grows
old he can never forget what he has learned of the art. I had, besides,
seen Raikes fight on two or three occasions, and believed, despite the
disparity of our years, that I could master him. If on the other hand I
was wrong, if, to put it bluntly, he should kill me, well, I was a very
lonely man with none dependent upon me, nay, my money would but benefit
others the sooner; moreover, I was a man of some standing, a Justice of
the Peace, with many friends in high authority, both in London and the
neighbourhood, who I know would raise such an outcry as would serve to
rid the county of Raikes once and for all. And a better riddance could
not well be imagined.
Thus, I argued, in either case my object could not fail, and therefore I
determined on the first favourable opportunity to put the matter to a
sudden issue. Presently the road narrowed so that we were forced to ride
two abreast, and I noticed with a feeling of satisfaction that Raikes
purposely reined in so as to bring himself beside me.
"By the way, Sir Richard," says he carelessly, "what of Jack Chester?"
"You possibly allude to my friend Sir John Chester," I corrected.
"To be sure," he answered, staring me in the eyes--"to be sure--Jack
Chester." Hereupon the Captain giggled. "They tell me his leg yet
troubles him," continued Raikes, seeing I was silent.
"'Tis nearly well," says Bentley, over his shoulder, and at the same
time I noticed his great mare began to edge closer to the Captain's
light roan.
"Can it be possible?" cried Raikes, in mock surprise. "On my soul, you
astonish me!" At this the Captain screeched with laughter again, yet he
broke off in the middle to curse instead, as his horse floundered into
the ditch.
"Pink my immortal soul, sir!" says he, as he got down to pick up his
hat, "but I verily believe that great beast of yours is gone suddenly
mad!" And indeed, Bentley's mare was sidling and dancing in a manner
that would seem to lend truth to the words.
"No," says Bentley, very solemn, "she has an objection to sudden
noises--'twas your laugh frightened her belike."
The Captain muttered a curse or two, wiped the mud from his hat, and
climbing back into the saddle, we proceeded upon our way.
"Speaking of Jack Chester," began Raikes, but here he was interrupted by
Bentley, who had been regarding us for some time with an uneasy eye.
"Gentlemen," says he, pointing to the finger-post ahead of us, "'tis
said Sir Charles d'Arcy was stopped at the cross roads yonder by a
highwayman, no later than last night, and he swears the fellow was none
other than the famous Jerry Abershaw himself, and he is said to be in
these parts yet."
"The devil!" exclaimed the Captain, glancing about apprehensively, while
I stared at Bentley in surprise, for this was the first I had heard of
it. As for Sir Harry Raikes, he dismissed the subject with a careless
shrug, and turned his attention to me once more.
"Speaking of Jack Chester," says he, "I begin to fear that leg of his
will never mend."
"Ah?" says I, looking him in the eyes for the first time, "yes?"
"Considering the circumstances," he nodded.
"It would seem that your fears were wasted none the less, sir."
"My dear Sir Richard," he smiled, "as I was saying to some one only the
other day, an injured arm--or leg for that matter, has often supplied a
lack of courage before now."
As he ended, the Captain began to laugh again, but meeting my eye,
stopped, for the moment I had waited for had arrived, and I reined round
so suddenly as to throw Sir Harry's horse back upon its haunches.
"Damnation!" he cried, struggling with the plunging animal, "are you
mad?"
"Do me the favour to dismount," says I, suiting the action to the word,
and throwing my bridle to Bentley.
"And what now?" says Raikes, staring.
"You will perceive that the road here is passably even, and the light
still fairly good," says I.
"Highly dramatic, on my soul!" he sneered.
"Sir Harry Raikes," says I, stepping up to his stirrup, "you will notice
that I have here a sword and a whip--which shall it be?"
The sneer left his lips on the instant, his face as suddenly grew red,
and I saw the veins start out on his temples.
"What," cries he, "is it a fight you're after?"
"Exactly!" says I, and laid my hand upon my small-sword; but at this
moment Bentley rode betwixt us.
"By God, you don't, Dick!" says he, laying his great hand upon my
shoulder.
"By God, but I do!" says I, endeavouring vainly to shake off his grasp.
"Man, Dick," cries he, "you are a madman--and full six inches shorter
in the reach! Now I--"
"You!" I broke in, "you are a mountain--besides, the quarrel is
mine--come, loose me, Bentley--loose me, I say."
"No! Devil take me--do you think I'll stand by and see you murdered?"
"Bentley," I cried, "if ever you were friend of mine you will free my
arm this instant."
All this time Raikes sat regarding us with a look of such open amusement
as came nigh driving me frantic.
"Mr. Bentley," says he, with a flourish of his hat, "I fancy 'twould be
as well for Sir Richard were I and Captain Hammersley to ride on before,
yet do not loose him till I am out of sight, I beg."
"You hear, Bentley?" says I, trembling with passion. "Come--let us
go--fool," I whispered under my breath, "for her sake!" Bentley's
fingers twitched upon my arm.
"Ah, I thought so!" he nodded.
"Then quick, do as I bid, and get it over."
"On condition that you settle the affair in the meadow yonder--'tis a
better place in all respects," says Bentley, under his breath.
"I care not where it be," says I.
"So," sneered Raikes, "you are bent on fighting, then?"
"In the meadow yonder," nodded Bentley, pointing with his whip to a
field that lay beyond the narrow stone bridge, some little distance
ahead.
"As you will," says Raikes, shrugging his shoulders; "but whatever the
consequences, I call you all to witness that Sir Richard's own
impulsiveness is entirely to blame."
So, having remounted, we rode forward, Raikes and the Captain leading
the way.
Now as we drew nearer to the bridge I have mentioned, I noticed a
solitary figure wrapped in a horseman's cloak who sat upon the coping,
seemingly absorbed in watching the flow of the stream beneath. We were
almost upon him when he slowly rose to his feet, and as he turned his
head I saw that he was masked, and, furthermore, that in either hand he
held a long-barrelled pistol.
"Abershaw, by God!" exclaimed the Captain, reining up all of a sudden.
"Stand!" cried a harsh voice, whereupon we all very promptly obeyed with
the exception of Raikes, who, striking spurs to his horse, dashed in
upon the fellow with raised whip. There was the sound of a blow, a
bitter curse, and the heavy whip, whirling harmlessly through the air,
splashed down into the stream.
"Ah! would you then?" says the fellow, with the muzzles of the pistols
within a foot of Sir Harry's cowering body. "Ah, would you? Curse me,
but I've a mind to blow the heart and liver out of you--d'ye take me?"
"I'll see you hanged for this," said Raikes, betwixt his teeth.
"Maybe aye, maybe no," says the fellow, in the same rough yet
half-jovial voice, "but for the present come down--get down, d'ye
hear?" Muttering oaths, Sir Harry perforce dismounted, and being by this
still nearer the threatening muzzles, immediately proceeded to draw out
a heavy purse, which he sullenly extended toward the highwayman, who,
shifting one pistol to his pocket, took it, weighed it in his hand a
moment, and then coolly tossed it over into the stream.
"What the devil!" gasped Raikes, "are you mad?"
"Maybe aye, maybe no," says the fellow, grinning beneath his mask, "but
that's neither here nor there, master, the question betwixt us being a
coat."
"What coat?" cries Raikes, with a bewildered stare.
"This coat," says the fellow, tapping him upon the arm with his pistol
barrel, "and a very passable coat it is--fine velvet, I swear, and as
I'm a living sinner, a flowered waistcoat!--come, take 'em off, d'ye
hear?"
Very slowly, Sir Harry obeyed, swearing frightfully, while the fellow,
sitting upon the parapet of the bridge, swung his legs and watched him.
"Humph!" says he, as if to himself, "buckskin breeches, and boots brand
new--burn me!" and then suddenly in a louder tone: "Off with them!"
"What d'ye mean?" snarled Raikes, and his face was murderous.
"What I says," returned the other, with a flourish of his pistols, "such
being my natur', d'ye take me? And if the gentleman in the muddy hat
moves a finger nearer his barkers, I'll blow his head off--curse me if
I won't." Saying which the highwayman began to whistle softly, swinging
his legs in time to himself. As for the Captain, the hand which had
crept furtively towards his pistols dropped as if it had been shot, and
he sat watching the fellow with staring eyes.
And indeed he made a strange, fantastic figure sitting there hunched up
in the fading light, with the quick gleam of his ever restless eyes
showing through the slits of his hideous half-mask, and the pout of his
whistling lips beneath; nay, there was about the whole figure, from the
rusty spurs at his heels to the crown of his battered hat, something
almost devilish, with an indefinable mockery beyond words.
"Bentley," I whispered, as Raikes slowly kicked off his boots one after
the other, "this fellow's a madman beyond a doubt, or we are dreaming."
Bentley's reply was something betwixt a groan and a choke, and looking
round, I saw that his face was purple.
"Man, don't do that," I cried, "you'll burst a blood-vessel!"
"Come," says the fellow, breaking off his whistle of a sudden, and
turning over the garments at his feet with the toe of his boot, "you
wouldn't go for to cheat me out of your breeches, would you? Come now,
master, off with 'em, I say, for look ye, I mislike to be kept waiting
for a thing as I wants--such being my natur', d'ye take me?"
Sir Harry Raikes stood rigid, his face dead white--only his burning eyes
and twitching mouth told of the baffled fury that was beyond all words.
Twice he essayed to speak and could not--once he turned to look at us
with an expression of such hopeless misery and mute appeal as moved even
me to pity. As for the highwayman, he began to whistle and swing his
legs once more.
"Bentley," says I, "this must go no farther."
"What can we do?" gasped Bentley, and laid his heavy hand upon my arm.
"Come," says the fellow again, rising to his feet.
"No," cries Raikes, in a choking voice, "not for all the devils in
hell!"
"I'll count five," grinned the fellow, and he levelled his pistols.
"One!" says he, but Raikes never stirred--"Two," the harsh, inexorable
voice went on, "three--four--" There was a sudden wild sob, and Sir
Harry Raikes was shivering in his hat and shirt. The highwayman now
turned his attention to Raikes's horse--though keeping a wary eye upon
us--and having drawn both pistols from their holsters, motioned him to
remount. Sir Harry obeyed with never so much as a word; which done, the
fellow gave a whistle, upon which a horse appeared from the shadow of
the hedge beyond, from whose saddle he took two lengths of cord, and
beckoning to the Captain, set him to bind Raikes very securely to the
stirrup-leathers. As one in a dream the Captain proceeded about it
(bungling somewhat in the operation), but it was done at last.
"Now, my masters," says the fellow briskly, "I must trouble each one of
you for his barkers--and no tricks, mark me, no tricks!" With this he
nodded to Bentley, who yielded up his weapons after a momentary
hesitation, while the Captain seemed positively eager to part with his,
and I in my turn was necessitated to do the same.
It may be a matter of wonder to some, that one man could so easily
disarm four, but 'tis readily understood if you have looked into the
muzzle of a horse-pistol held within a few inches of your head.