Wondering, half sleepily, what would happen next, and caring little, for
he had lost all hope, St. Just followed the servant to the door and
stepped into the carriage, which, the rapid glance he gave it showed
him, was a private one. Two Bow Street runners got in after him, and
immediately the coach was driven off at a rapid trot. In a quarter of
an hour, they reached the toll bar at Hyde Park Corner. The gate was
opened at their approach, the coachman shouted something, and, without
stopping they drove through. Ten minutes later, the carriage drew up
before a house in Downing Street. St. Just was requested to get out,
and his companions in his drive each thrust an arm through one of his
and led him up the steps in front of the house, then up a flight of
stairs and into a square room on the first floor. It was dimly lighted,
for only one candle was burning on a table; so that St. Just could not
see much of his surroundings; but he could distinguish folding doors on
the side of the room that faced him.
The men asked him to be seated; then took their stand between him and
the door. From beyond the folding doors, he could hear the hum of
conversation and, amongst the voices, he fancied he could distinguish
Halima's. He strained his ears and was now sure of it. Then, at any
rate, no harm was meant to him.
Presently he heard the clock of the neighboring Horse Guards strike the
fourth quarter, and then One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. He
must have slept for many hours, then, at the house at Earl's Court.
Hardly had the last stroke died away, when the folding doors were
opened, and Mr. Pitt, the Prime Minister, the Prince Regent, and, to St.
Just's surprise, Halima entered the apartment. They were followed by a
secretary. Plainly the Prince had not been to bed, for he was still
habited in the uniform he had worn at dinner the night before; he still
looked as if he had dined--or drunk "not wisely, but too well."
He ogled Halima, who gave him back a saucy glance; then he whispered
something in the ear of Mr. Pitt, who told the "runners" to withdraw and
wait outside the door.
Then Mr. Pitt, in a pleasant tone and courteous manner, asked St. Just
to draw up to them and take a seat. The Regent seated himself on one
side of a long table near the end, and Halima took a chair that faced
him, the Premier placing himself at the top. The secretary took a place
a little lower down, away from them.
"Mons. St. Just," said Mr. Pitt, addressing him, "your action in this
matter does you credit. Madame, your wife, has informed me of your
scruples in giving up the papers entrusted to you by your Government.
In the circumstances they were natural; but I think you will find it to
your advantage--in fact it seems to me your only course--now to follow
our instructions and advice."
"Quite the only course; very much to your advantage; much obleeged to
you," hiccoughed the Regent, at this point, with a hazy idea that he was
forwarding the proceedings.
Mr. Pitt glanced at him contemptuously and went on: "The letters you
sent us by Madame," and he pointed to a packet on the table, "have been
copied. They will be duly delivered at their destination--Mr.
Perry's--by Madame's servant"--he meant Mahmoud--"whom, we understand,
Mr. Perry knows; therefore no suspicion will be aroused. The copies
that have been made of them you will deliver in person to our Admiral,
Lord Nelson. With that object you will be shipped on board H.M.S. La
France"--seeing the look of surprise on St. Just's face--"a French
vessel recently captured in the channel. You will have to run the
gauntlet of whatever French ships may be found between here and
Gibraltar, not far from which, I fancy, Lord Nelson will be met with.
You may wonder why you have been selected for this mission, so I will
satisfy you. We believe the despatches you brought from Paris to be
genuine, to mean what they say. But, sometimes, such documents are
penned and despatched in order that they may be seized by the enemy and
so mislead him--to lead him into a trap. It, therefore, seems desirable
to make you the messenger to Lord Nelson. If the information given
here"--and he tapped the packet with his finger--"should be false, the
Admiral will know how to deal with you."
This was pleasant hearing for St. Just. It seemed possible that he had
escaped being shot as a traitor by French bullets, only to swing from a
British yard-arm as a spy. But, for the moment, he said nothing; Mr.
Pitt proceeded, "To be frank with you, you will be a hostage for the
genuineness of your despatch. Now that you realize the position,
perhaps you would like to express your opinion of the reliability of
these documents. It might save us anxiety and yourself this
voyage--and, perhaps--your neck, for the Admiral is a strict
disciplinarian."
St. Just did realize the position; it was as clear as daylight.
"I can only say in reply to that," rejoined St. Just, "that I have not
an idea what the despatch contains, nor whether it was written to
mislead, or not. For the last eighteen months I have been imprisoned at
Vincennes, and not a word of what took place in Europe during the whole
time reached my ears. Three days ago I was released and sent here with
these papers, and ordered to remain in England, awaiting fresh
instructions. I know no more."
"I thoroughly believe you, Mons. St. Just," replied the Premier. "For
all that, we like to be on the safe side; and I fear you will have to
take this voyage. The papers are ready for Mons. St. Just, Mr. Sidney?"
he wound up interrogatively to the Secretary.
"They are, Sir," was the reply.
St. Just sat sad and stupefied. Once more, he had no sooner rejoined
his wife than he was to be torn away from her. Fate was indeed cruel to
him.
Now Halima had so represented matters as to make it appear that he had
betrayed his trust and voluntarily handed over the papers to the English
Government; but with a show of opposition to protect himself from
Napoleon's vengeance, should it come to his ears, and he, St. Just, fall
into the Emperor's hands. But he had no mind to lie under such an
imputation, and was on the point of making a vehement protest, and
explaining that he was no party to Mr. Pitt's being in possession of the
papers; that he had been robbed of them; when Halima, reading his
intention in his face, first silenced him with a look, and, then getting
up, went round to him. "Henri!" she murmured cooingly. Her accents
brought back to him the memory of days of love and dalliance spent
together in the luxurious house at Cairo; of nights out in the desert
under the starlit sky; of moments when they had been in peril of their
lives, and they two had been all in all to one another. His name, now
uttered by her in her softest tones, that breathed of love, thrilled him
from head to foot, and sent the blood leaping through his veins. The
words he had meant to utter remained unspoken.
"Henri," she laid her hand gently on his arm, "be silent, if you love
me. I read your thoughts. You would tell them how the papers reached
their hands; that you had no part in the transaction. If you value your
liberty, your life--and mine, for your death would be also mine--say
nothing. It will not alter their resolve to send you. At present, they
have trust in you; do nothing to destroy that trust. Even as it is,
they have some little doubt, though I have worked hard for you.
"I pray that Buonaparte, in making you the bearer of despatches to his
agents, has not played you false; for if aught is wrong, and they are a
mere ruse, the English will shoot you like a dog. So be warned by me,
cheri, for my sake, if you care not for yourself; for I cannot lose you.
But there is no time for more. Farewell, my dearest. May Allah bring
you safely to me again."
During this short murmured conversation, the others had withdrawn
somewhat from St. Just and Halima, and were discussing something in low
tones together, and signing papers. Halima glanced at them, and, seeing
that she was unobserved, bent forward swiftly, and kissed him lightly
and noiselessly on the cheek; then slid back rapidly to her seat.
St. Just sat motionless. He felt like one suddenly launched into the
middle of a dream, in which all sorts of impossibilities and
incongruities and anachronisms are jumbled up together, and yet, to the
dreamer, have the semblance of reality and rationality. His brain was
in a whirl. All the resolutions and fidelity to Napoleon, formulated in
his cell at Vincennes, had taken wing, at the touch of a woman's hand,
at the music of a woman's voice, at the imprint of a woman's lips. He
scarcely knew what was going on about him.
He was roused from his reverie by the opening of one of the folding
doors and the entrance of a young officer in the uniform of a Hussar.
The young man bowed respectfully, but without servility, to the company;
then, bringing his spurred heels sharply to attention, he stood erect
awaiting orders. The Prime Minister addressed him in a clear, incisive
tone, "Captain Anson, you will convey this gentleman," indicating St.
Just, "and the papers with which you will be entrusted to Commander
Fergusson of H.M.S. La France, now lying off Shoreham. You will travel
as fast as your escort can cover the ground, for it is imperative that
you reach the ship before twelve o'clock, at which hour she is to sail.
It is vital that Mons. St. Just shall embark in her. You will,
therefore, guard him carefully and hand him over with these papers to
Captain Fergusson."
The officer bowed, and Mr. Pitt went on:--"The Regent has placed at your
disposal one of his private traveling carriages. You will show this,"
handing him a paper, which he and the Regent had signed and stamped with
the Royal Arms, "to all postmasters and others, so that you may take
precedence of every one in the choice of horses.
"What escort did you bring?"
"Twenty men, Sir, in accordance with the instructions in your letter to
the Colonel. I received his orders soon after six this morning, and I
left Hounslow almost immediately."
"Egad, Sir, that is not bad work," put in the Regent, who, all this
time, had been whispering to Halima.
"Take every care of Mons. St. Just," resumed the Premier. "Treat him
with all courtesy and instruct Captain Fergusson to do the same. You
will ride in the carriage with him, and will not permit him, on any
pretext, to communicate with any one on the way. I have nothing more to
add."
He bowed to Captain Anson; then leaned back in his chair.
The Regent pulled out his watch. "Damnation!" he exclaimed, "it's close
on eight o'clock. Ah! I thought so." At that moment the Horse Guards
clock began to strike that hour. "You must ride hard, gentlemen.
You've sixty-two miles to cover in four hours. Come, I've done Brighton
in the time; and you won't be stopped--except by highwaymen; but those
gentlemen mostly work by night."
He laughed, and, leaning forward, began to recount an adventure of his
own, in which a highwayman had figured, when he had been stopped upon
the Brighton Road. But, while he was talking, the Hussar, bowing
comprehensively all round, had led his prisoner from the room; the last
thing they heard, as they paced the corridor, being the coarse laugh of
the Regent and the words, "Damnation, impudent, eh, Pitt? Truth, upon
honor; egad what impudent----"
The words died away, and, in a few seconds, St. Just found himself in
the traveling carriage--a royal one. It was beautifully padded and with
springs so carefully adjusted that, even on the roughest road, the
jolting was almost imperceptible. Four horses were harnessed to it.
The royal-liveried postilions glanced curiously at their unusual
"fares," the door was banged to, the escort surrounded the carriage, and
then, at a word from the grizzled sergeant in command, the cavalcade set
out.
*CHAPTER II.*
Headed by a portion of their escort, they started at a rapid trot,
wheeled round the corner of Downing Street, then past the Houses of
Parliament and across Westminster Bridge, and on to where the Brighton
Road begins.
Soon they had passed the outskirts of the metropolis and were in the
open country. Then they put on a spanking pace, over hill and down
dale, the horses galloping on every level stretch of road and down all
safe descents, and even up gentle rises. The carriage oscillated from
side to side, with the speed at which they were traveling, but there was
little jolting, for in those days the Brighton Road was famous for its
high condition, and was as smooth almost as a billiard table.
Their first halting place was the White Hart at Reigate, where they
stopped for a change of horses. Here Captain Anson left the carriage
and, after placing a soldier at each door with orders to prevent St.
Just from leaving the carriage or speaking to any one, returned almost
immediately, followed by the obsequious landlord with a basket, a
welcome sight to the prisoner in the carriage, who was famishing.
The escort were, after resting their horses, to return to their barracks
at Hounslow, for it would have been impossible for the men, without
remounts, to accompany the carriage all the way. Captain Anson ordered
two of the troopers to mount to the box; then, all being ready, they
rattled off again with their fresh team.
There was a bottle of wine in the basket, and certain appetizing viands,
and, under their influence, the tongues of both the occupants of the
carriage became unloosed; for, up to this time, there had been little
conversation. But now Captain Anson, in particular, became quite
talkative, relating many amusing anecdotes and giving St. Just an
insight into fashionable life in London in the Regency. Thus the time
occupied between Reigate and Crawley sped by without their noticing it,
so that they reached the latter village when they thought that they had
but just cleared the outskirts of Red Hill.
When they drew up before the George, the officer frowned, for, just in
front of them, was another post-chaise; while, from the inn yard, some
fresh horses were being led out.
Then St. Just heard the sound of angry voices in altercation. "Ah!"
thought he, "a dispute about the horses, no doubt;" and in this he was
correct. Next, some one tried to approach the carriage, but this the
two troopers placed on guard prevented. The fresh team was quickly
harnessed, and the carriage moved on again. In passing the inn door,
St. Just noticed on the doorstep a swearing, gesticulating figure he
well knew. It was Perry, the hosier of the Strand. For the first time
since the commencement of his journey St. Just was glad to get away, for
he had no wish to be recognized by his London friend; the circumstance
would certainly have been communicated to Paris.
"Poor old chap," laughed Anson, while they were making the steep ascent
leading to Hand Cross village, "I'm afraid we've upset him vastly, in
borrowing his horses. He made no end of a hubbub and swore I should not
have them, without your personal command."
"Mine?" asked the other in surprise; "What did he know about me?"
"Why?" laughed Captain Anson; "seeing the Royal carriage and liveries he
thought the Regent was inside; the more so when I showed him my
authority. It was all I could do to keep him from coming to the
carriage to pay his respects to the Prince, whom, he said, he knew. I
had to tell him that his Royal Highness was asleep, and that I would not
permit him to be disturbed. I don't know who the fellow is, but he said
he had important business with one Stephen Dumbell at Bolney, and that
he must see him before noon; that all sorts of awful things would
happen, if he didn't. I'm afraid Stephen Dumbell will have to possess
his soul in patience, until his friend procures another team."
St. Just laughed too, but only in a half-hearted way, for Perry's
appearance had filled him with uneasy thoughts. Again it came to him
what an egregious act of folly it had been, his not having delivered his
despatch before seeing Halima. Then all that had since happened, and
his present predicament would have been avoided. It was possible, nay
probable, that his dereliction of duty would have wide-spreading
consequences; might even change the whole current of affairs in Europe.
And why should Perry be leaving England so suddenly, for that he, like
them, was making his way to Shoreham, St. Just felt certain.
He was glad to learn that Perry was unknown to Captain Anson, and he
kept his own knowledge of him to himself.
Meanwhile the carriage rattled on; now descending at a breakneck pace
the long decline that led to the pretty little hamlet of Bolney; then on
past the Cross Roads, leaving on the right the road to sleepy Cowfold
and the more active and larger, but hardly less old-fashioned Horsham.
On they dashed, past the grand old mansion of Hickstead, at that time
approached, as was that of Cuckfield, by a fine avenue of trees, most of
which have long disappeared, together with the monks who planted them.
On, on, on, and now it was in verity a race with time. Captain Anson
thrust his head out of the carriage window. "Faster, faster!" he cried
to the postillions. "A guinea each, if we arrive in time."
And, in answer to his appeal, the men plied vigorously whip and spur to
the panting, sweating horses; and soon they were tearing long as fast as
they could gallop over the bridge that spans the river Arun hard by
Lancing. On, on, they sped and, at last, Shoreham loomed in view.
Then, when their goal was all but reached and Captain Anson, after
consulting his watch, had fallen back to his corner with a sigh of
relief and a smile of satisfaction, for he saw that he would be in time;
a serious mishap occurred. With a sudden jerk, the carriage came to a
stop, and the occupants found themselves violently thrown forward and
involuntarily jostling one another. In an instant, Anson was on his
feet and shouting to the postilions from the window. But a glance
sufficed to show him what had happened; the two leaders were down; they
had fallen from sheer exhaustion--galloped to a standstill. The two
that remained upon their legs were trembling in every limb, and so
bathed in sweat that they might have been swimming a river.
Captain Anson was terribly upset; it looked as though, just when success
seemed within his reach, he was to be foiled. But he was a man of
energy and not easily daunted; he would use every means to discharge his
trust--so much depended on it; not only to his country, but to himself.
"Two of the horses are down," he said to his companion. "I must ask you
to get out, Mons. St. Just." He had already decided what to do.
St. Just at once did as requested.
Then, issuing his orders with decision, the officer told the two
soldiers on the box to descend and guard St. Just. The postilions were
already on their feet. These he told to unharness the two shaft horses,
and to remove the riding saddle and bridle from one of the leaders that
had fallen, but were now once more on their legs, and replace them on
the shaft horse that was without them. All this was done almost by the
time he had given his orders. Then he carefully examined the two saddled
horses to see which, in his judgment, was the stronger and swifter of
the two. Indicating the other, he addressed St. Just. "Kindly mount,
Mons. St. Just," he said. "We shall have to complete our journey on
horseback. Excuse my want of ceremony, but time is pressing."
The Frenchman made no difficulty; he realized the futility of
opposition; so he placed his foot in the stirrup with alacrity, and, the
next instant, was in the saddle. Captain Anson had been watching him,
and saw at a glance, that he was quite at home on horseback.
"You are used to riding, Mons. St. Just," he said pleasantly.
"I have had plenty of practice as an aide-de-camp under General
Buonaparte," was the reply.
Captain Anson then rapidly gave instructions to the postilions and
soldiers to follow on to Shoreham with the post-chaise so soon as the
two horses should have rested sufficiently to be harnessed to it. Then
he turned again to St. Just.
"Plain speaking between soldiers is the best, Monsieur," he said. "Let
me call your attention, therefore, to the fact that I am better mounted
than yourself and that I carry a brace of loaded pistols. Should you
attempt to make your escape, I will shoot you without the least demur. I
trust you will not impose so painful a duty on me."
St. Just laughed. "You will not require to use your pistol, Captain
Anson. I am not absolutely devoid of sense. I am at your service."
They gave their horses rein and started at a brisk trot, but soon warmed
up into a canter.
It was ten minutes to the hour when they sighted the cruiser, which was
anchored just outside the harbor mouth. They were now almost alongside
the harbor, and Captain Anson was looking anxiously about for a means of
reaching the La France; and luck befriended him. A fishing boat, within
hail, was floating lazily with the tide towards the harbor mouth.
"Boat ahoy!" cried Anson.
"Aye, aye, Sir," came the cheery answer.
"In the King's name. Five guineas, if you put us on board yonder
cruiser before she sails."
"Done!" shouted the hardy fisherman, who was at the tiller, and he soon
brought the little craft alongside where the two men stood, for by this
time they had dismounted.
The horses were given in charge of a custom house official, with
instructions to await the officer's return, and then they stepped aboard
the boat.
"Look alive, man," said Captain Anson; "put in all you know; that vessel
must not sail before we board her."
"Never fear, we'll do it, Sir," replied the sturdy boatman, and he and
his two mates quickly put the boat about. There was a stiff nor'wester
blowing, and the tide was with them, so that the clumsy craft began to
make fair way; but every now and then she dipped her nose into the
surf-capped rollers that marked the harbor bar, sending showers of
brackish spray into the faces of the passengers, and, in fact, all over
them, so that they soon were drenched to the skin. But little recked
one of them of this; all that he cared for was to reach the vessel.
Nearer and nearer they approached her, and now were almost close upon
her. They could hear the sharp tones of the officers shouting their
commands; could hear even the creaking of the capstan, as inch by inch
the anchor was being dragged up from its muddy depths; and also the
voice of the musical Jack who was singing to give the men the time,
which he himself took from the notes of an indifferently played fiddle.
Captain Anson placed his hands to his mouth and bawled, "Ship ahoy!
Despatches!" Then suddenly he removed them. "By God, she is moving,"
his voice rising almost to a shriek; "she is under weigh."
And indeed she was, her sails beginning to belly out in the freshening
breeze.
"Aye, aye," muttered the old boatman at the helm, quite calmly, "but
she'll tack yet, to let the wind take her down channel. You'll see,
Sir, we shall manage it."
He put the helm hard over, and the fishing vessel, answering, swung
round and was brought up by the side almost under the cruiser's bows.
"Ship ahoy!" yelled the fisherman.
"In the King's name, despatches," shouted Anson, springing to his feet
and waving the papers above his head, and almost falling overboard in
his excitement.
"All right," was shouted in reply; "Come on board as sharp as you can."
A tow rope was flung over the craft, and deftly caught and made fast to
her by the fisherman, who then pulled her alongside the cruiser.
St. Just waited for a second or two, when the heave of the sea, that
lifted him almost to the shrouds, gave him his opportunity. Quickly
grabbing a second rope, he clambered up hand over hand and landed safely
upon the cruiser's deck.
Not so the debonair Hussar. Unused to the position, he made his leap
just a shade too late, and got drenched to his skin in consequence.
A gray-haired, bushy whiskered man of forty-five came up to him the
moment that he touched the deck.
"I am Captain Fergusson," he said. "You say you have despatches for me,
Sir. You were only just in time; and I must start at once, for I cannot
lose the tide."
"I am Captain Anson," replied the other, "--th Hussars." Then he
continued, politely, and looking every inch a gentleman, despite his
drenched appearance--the water was streaming from him, and making little
pools about him--"My orders are to hand over to you, yonder
gentleman"--pointing to St. Just, who was standing motionless, gazing
absently at the roofs of the little town that seemed, with the motion of
the vessel, to be bobbing up and down--"with instructions that he is to
be guarded carefully and allowed to hold no communication with anyone
but yourself; consistently with that, he is to receive every
consideration. These papers will tell you all.
"This," handing the Captain a large, blue, official-looking envelope,
"contains your sailing orders; and this, despatches for the Admiral."
He passed the various documents to Captain Fergusson, who replied:
"I need scarcely say, Captain Anson, that the instructions here
contained will be obeyed to the very letter. And now you must have a
glass of Nantz, after your wetting."
"I thank you," replied Anson, "but it is impossible. I dare not detain
you; and I, too, must return immediately."
He shook hands with the Captain, and then turned to St. Just, and held
out his hand. "Good-bye, Mons. St. Just, and Au revoir. I wish you
good luck, I trust you will forgive me for what may have appeared
harshness in my manner. It was not in my heart; but merely a necessity
of the performance of my duty. I hope in the future we may meet as
friends in more congenial circumstances."
He smiled pleasantly, as indeed he might; so far as he was concerned,
everything had turned out satisfactorily.
St. Just took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. "No excuse
whatever is called for, Captain Anson," he replied; "you performed an
uncongenial task with every courtesy."
Then Captain Anson swung himself overboard and lowered himself by a rope
into the fishing-boat. She cast off and, at once, began tacking for the
shore, St. Just watching her till she disappeared into the harbor.
Captain Fergusson glanced rapidly over his new instructions, and gave
the necessary orders; and, not till the little vessel was fairly on her
course, did he give his attention to St. Just.
Then he approached him. "For the time it seems I am to be your jailer,
Mons. St. Just. I will make things as pleasant and comfortable as I can
for you, consistent with your safe custody; but I shall have to confine
you to your cabin and place an armed sentry at your door. Except for two
hours' exercise daily on the poop, you will have to spend all your time
there. If you care to read, I can supply you with some books."
St. Just bowed. "I am in your hands," he said. "I cannot complain; it
is the fortune of war. But one thing I should like to ask; how long is
my confinement likely to continue?"
"About three weeks, I fancy; but it depends upon wind and weather."
"And my destination?"
Captain Fergusson gave a peculiar laugh. "Ah! that I cannot say," he
said. "Sims," to an officer standing near, "conduct this gentleman to
the middle cabin on the port side of the upper deck, and place a marine
at the door."
He bowed to St. Just, to signify that the interview was ended, and then
walked away to his cabin to con more carefully the orders he had
received. They were brief and simple, but their very brevity and
simplicity gave him food for thought.