THE MESSAGE
To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
in silence waiting for his word.
"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he
could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the
Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for
him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!"
"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some
asperity, closing the door again in part.
"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night."
Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.
The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.
"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above.
"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be
important. What should I do?"
"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
appeared at the first landing.
"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill,
but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within."
Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.
"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her
half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This
to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
could be conceded.
Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
sat her down.
She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
himself and doubt for this unusual situation.
"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
importance--"
"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."
"Your brother, Mr. Law?"
"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
message will set all plain."
"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."
Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.
"My brother did not explain--" said Will.
"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
in trouble?"
"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
with the crime of murder."
Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.
"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
now.
"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made."
"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
well if I made both of us owners of its contents."
"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full
heed.
The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.
"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
crossed black London town that night.
Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
ask its contents.
"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once.
Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
go with you."
In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.