SAVED FROM A VILLAIN
"I find that I have to give you thanks for yet another service,
Cyril," Captain Dave said heartily, when they met the next morning.
"Nellie tells me a young Court gallant had the insolence to try to
address her yesterday in Cheapside, on her way back from St. Paul's,
that you prevented his doing so, and that there was quite a scene in
the street. If I knew who he was I would break his sconce for him,
were he Rochester himself. A pretty pass things have come to, when a
citizen's daughter cannot walk home from St. Paul's without one of
these impudent vagabonds of the Court venturing to address her! Know
you who he was?"
"No; I have never seen the fellow before, Captain Dave. I do know
many of the courtiers by sight, having, when we first came over,
often gone down to Whitehall with my father when he was seeking to
obtain an audience with the King; but this man's face is altogether
strange to me."
"Well, well! I will take care that Nellie shall not go abroad again
except under her mother's escort or mine. I know, Cyril, that she
would be as safe under your charge as in ours, but it is better that
she should have the presence of an older person. It is not that I
doubt your courage or your address, lad, but a ruffling gallant of
this sort would know naught of you, save that you are young, and
besides, did you interfere, there might be a scene that would do
serious harm to Nellie's reputation."
"I agree with you thoroughly, Captain Dave," Cyril said warmly. "It
will be far better that you or Mrs. Dowsett should be by her side as
long as there is any fear of further annoyance from this fellow. I
should ask nothing better than to try a bout with him myself, for I
have been right well taught how to use my sword; but, as you say, a
brawl in the street is of all things to be avoided."
Three or four weeks passed quietly. Nellie seldom went abroad; when
she did so her mother always accompanied her if it were in the
daytime, and her father whenever she went to the house of any friend
after dusk.
Cyril one day caught sight of the gallant in Tower Street, and
although he was on his way to one of his customers, he at once
determined to break his appointment and to find out who the fellow
was. The man sauntered about looking into the shops for full half an
hour, but it was apparent to Cyril that he paid little attention to
their contents, and was really waiting for someone. When the clock
struck three he started, stamped his foot angrily on the ground, and,
walking away rapidly to the stairs of London Bridge, took a seat in a
boat, and was rowed up the river.
Cyril waited until he had gone a short distance, and then hailed a
wherry rowing two oars.
"You see that boat over there?" he said. "I don't wish to overtake it
at present. Keep a hundred yards or so behind it, but row inshore so
that it shall not seem that you are following them."
The men obeyed his instructions until they had passed the Temple;
then, as the other boat still kept in the middle of the stream, Cyril
had no doubt that it would continue its course to Westminster.
"Now stretch to your oars," he said to the watermen. "I want to get
to Westminster before the other boat, and to be well away from the
stairs before it comes up."
The rest of the journey was performed at much greater speed, and
Cyril alighted at Westminster while the other boat was some three or
four hundred yards behind. Paying the watermen, he went up the
stairs, walked away fifty or sixty yards, and waited until he saw the
man he was following appear. The latter walked quietly up towards
Whitehall and entered a tavern frequented by young bloods of the
Court. Cyril pressed his hat down over his eyes. His dress was not
the same as that in which he had escorted Nellie to the cathedral,
and he had but small fear of being recognised.
When he entered he sat down at a vacant table, and, having ordered a
stoup of wine, looked round. The man had joined a knot of young
fellows like himself, seated at a table. They were dissipated-looking
blades, and were talking loudly and boisterously.
"Well, Harvey, how goes it? Is the lovely maiden we saw when we were
with you at St. Paul's ready to drop into your arms?"
"Things are going on all right," Harvey said, with an air of
consciousness; "but she is watched by two griffins, her father and
mother. 'Tis fortunate they do not know me by sight, and I have thus
chances of slipping a note in her hand when I pass her. I think it
will not be long before you will have to congratulate me."
"She is an heiress and only daughter, is she not, honest John?"
another asked.
"She is an only child, and her father bears the reputation of doing a
good business; but as to what I shall finally do, I shall not yet
determine. As to that, I shall be guided by circumstances."
"Of course, of course," the one who had first spoken said.
Cyril had gained the information he required. The man's name was John
Harvey, and Nellie was keeping up a clandestine correspondence with
him. Cyril felt that were he to listen longer he could not restrain
his indignation, and, without touching the wine he had paid for, he
hastily left the tavern.
As he walked towards the city, he was unable to decide what he had
better do. Were he to inform Captain Dave of what he had heard there
would be a terrible scene, and there was no saying what might happen.
Still, Nellie must be saved from falling into the hands of this
fellow, and if he abstained from telling her father he must himself
take steps to prevent the possibility of such a thing taking place.
The more he thought of it the more he felt of the heavy
responsibility it would be. Anxious as he was to save Nellie from the
anger of her father, it was of far greater consequence to save her
from the consequences of her own folly. At last he resolved to take
John Wilkes into his counsels. John was devoted to his master, and
even if his advice were not of much value, his aid in keeping watch
would be of immense service. Accordingly, that evening, when John
went out for his usual pipe after supper, Cyril, who had to go to a
trader in Holborn, followed him out quickly and overtook him a few
yards from the door.
"I want to have a talk with you, John."
"Ay, ay, sir. Where shall it be? Nothing wrong, I hope? That new
apprentice looks to me an honest sort of chap, and the man we have
got in the yard now is an old mate of mine. He was a ship's boy on
board the _Dolphin_ twenty-five years back, and he sailed under the
Captain till he left the sea. I would trust that chap just as I would
myself."
"It is nothing of that sort, John. It is another sort of business
altogether, and yet it is quite as serious as the last. I have got
half an hour before I have to start to do those books at Master
Hopkins'. Where can we have a talk in a quiet place where there is no
chance of our being overheard?"
"There is a little room behind the bar at the place I go to, and I
have no doubt the landlord will let us have it, seeing as I am a
regular customer."
"At any rate we can see, John. It is too cold for walking about
talking here; and, besides, I think one can look at a matter in all
lights much better sitting down than one can walking about."
"That is according to what you are accustomed to," John said, shaking
his head. "It seems to me that I can look further into the innards of
a question when I am walking up and down the deck on night watch with
just enough wind aloft to take her along cheerful, and not too much
of it, than I can at any other time; but then, you see, that is just
what one is accustomed to. This is the place."
He entered a quiet tavern, and, nodding to five or six
weather-beaten-looking men, who were sitting smoking long pipes, each
with a glass of grog before him, went up to the landlord, who formed
one of the party. He had been formerly the master of a trader, and
had come into the possession of the tavern by marriage with its
mistress, who was still the acting head of the establishment.
"We have got a piece of business we want to overhaul, Peter. I
suppose we can have that cabin in yonder for a bit?"
"Ay, ay. There is a good fire burning. You will find pipes on the
table. You will want a couple of glasses of grog, of course?"
John nodded, and then led the way into the little snuggery at the end
of the room. It had a glass door, so that, if desired, a view could
be obtained of the general room, but there was a curtain to draw
across this. There was a large oak settle on either side of the fire,
and there was a table, with pipes and a jar of tobacco standing
between them.
"This is a tidy little crib," John said, as he seated himself and
began to fill a pipe. "There is no fear of being disturbed here.
There has been many a voyage talked over and arranged in this 'ere
room. They say that Blake himself, when the Fleet was in the river,
would drop in here sometimes, with one of his captains, for a quiet
talk."
A minute later a boy entered and placed two steaming glasses of grog
on the table. The door closed after him, and John said,--
"Now you can get under way, Master Cyril. You have got a fair course
now, and nothing to bring you up."
"It is a serious matter, John. And before I begin, I must tell you
that I rely on your keeping absolute silence as to what I am going to
tell you."
"That in course," John said, as he lifted his glass to his lips. "You
showed yourself a first-rate pilot in that last job, and I am content
to sail under you this time without asking any questions as to the
ship's course, and to steer according to orders."
Cyril told the story, interrupted frequently by angry ejaculations on
the part of the old bo'swain.
"Dash my wig!" he exclaimed, when Cyril came to an end. "But this is
a bad business altogether, Master Cyril. One can engage a pirate and
beat him off if the crew is staunch, but when there is treason on
board ship, it makes it an awkward job for those in command."
"The question is this, John: ought we to tell the Captain, or shall
we try to take the affair into our own hands, and so to manage it
that he shall never know anything about it?"
The sailor was silent for a minute or two, puffing his pipe
meditatively.
"I see it is an awkward business to decide," he said. "On one side,
it would pretty nigh kill Captain Dave to know that Mistress Nellie
has been steering wild and has got out of hand. She is just the apple
of his eye. Then, on the other hand, if we undertook the job without
telling him, and one fine morning we was to find out she was gone, we
should be in a mighty bad fix, for the Captain would turn round and
say, 'Why didn't you tell me? If you had done so, I would have locked
her up under hatches, and there she would be, safe now.'"
"That is just what I see, and it is for that reason I come to you. I
could not be always on the watch, but I think that you and I together
would keep so sharp a look-out that we might feel pretty sure that
she could not get away without our knowledge."
"We could watch sharply enough at night, Master Cyril. There would be
no fear of her getting away then without our knowing it. But how
would it be during the day? There am I in the shop or store from
seven in the morning until we lock up before supper-time. You are out
most of your time, and when you are not away, you are in the office
at the books, and she is free to go in and out of the front door
without either of us being any the wiser."
"I don't think he would venture to carry her off by daylight," Cyril
said. "She never goes out alone now, and could scarcely steal away
unnoticed. Besides, she would know that she would be missed directly,
and a hue and cry set up. I should think she would certainly choose
the evening, when we are all supposed to be in bed. He would have a
chair waiting somewhere near; and there are so often chairs going
about late, after city entertainments, that they would get off
unnoticed. I should say the most dangerous time is between nine
o'clock and midnight. She generally goes off to bed at nine or soon
after, and she might very well put on her hood and cloak and steal
downstairs at once, knowing that she would not be missed till
morning. Another dangerous time would be when she goes out to a
neighbour's. The Captain always takes her, and goes to fetch her at
nine o'clock, but she might make some excuse to leave quite early,
and go off in that way."
"That would be awkward, Mr. Cyril, for neither you nor I could be
away at supper-time without questions being asked. It seems to me
that I had better take Matthew into the secret. As he don't live in
the house he could very well watch wherever she is, till I slip round
after supper to relieve him, and he could watch outside here in the
evening till either you or I could steal downstairs and take his
place. You can count on him keeping his mouth shut just as you can on
me. The only thing is, how is he to stop her if he finds her coming
out from a neighbour's before the Captain has come for her?"
"If he saw her coming straight home he could follow her to the door
without being noticed, John, but if he found her going some other way
he must follow her till he sees someone speak to her, and must then
go straight up and say, 'Mistress Dowsett, I am ready to escort you
home.' If she orders him off, or the man she meets threatens him, as
is like enough, he must say, 'Unless you come I shall shout for aid,
and call upon passers-by to assist me'; and, rather than risk the
exposure, she would most likely return with him. Of course, he would
carry with him a good heavy cudgel, and choose a thoroughfare where
there are people about to speak to her, and not an unfrequented
passage, for you may be sure the fellow would have no hesitation in
running him through if he could do so without being observed."
"Matthew is a stout fellow," John Wilkes said, "and was as smart a
sailor as any on board till he had his foot smashed by being jammed
by a spare spar that got adrift in a gale, so that the doctors had to
cut off the leg under the knee, and leave him to stump about on a
timber toe for the rest of his life. I tell you what, Master Cyril:
we might make the thing safer still if I spin the Captain a yarn as
how Matthew has strained his back and ain't fit to work for a bit;
then I can take on another hand to work in the yard, and we can put
him on watch all day. He might come on duty at nine o'clock in the
morning, and stop until I relieve him as soon as supper is over. Of
course, he would not keep opposite the house, but might post himself
a bit up or down the street, so that he could manage to keep an eye
on the door."
"That would be excellent," Cyril said. "Of course, at the supper-hour
he could go off duty, as she could not possibly leave the house
between that time and nine o'clock. You always come in about that
hour, and I hear you go up to bed. When you get there, you should at
once take off your boots, slip downstairs again with them, and go
quietly out. I often sit talking with Captain Dave till half-past
nine or ten, but directly I can get away I will come down and join
you. I think in that way we need feel no uneasiness as to harm coming
from our not telling Captain Dave, for it would be impossible for her
to get off unnoticed. Now that is all arranged I must be going, for I
shall be late at my appointment unless I hurry."
"Shall I go round and begin my watch at once, Master Cyril?".
"No, there is no occasion for that. We know that he missed her
to-day, and therefore can have made no appointment; and I am
convinced by what he said to the fellows he met, that matters are not
settled yet. However, we will begin to-morrow. You can take an
opportunity during the day to tell Matthew about it, and he can
pretend to strain his back in the afternoon, and you can send him
away. He can come round again next morning early, and when the
Captain comes down you can tell him that you find that Matthew will
not be able to work for the present, and ask him to let you take
another man on until he can come back again."
Cyril watched Nellie closely at meal-times and in the evening for the
next few days. He thought that he should be certain to detect some
slight change in her manner, however well she might play her part,
directly she decided on going off with this man. She would not dream
that she was suspected in any way, and would therefore be the less
cautious. Matthew kept watch during the day, and followed if she went
out with her father to a neighbour's, remaining on guard outside the
house until John Wilkes relieved him as soon as he had finished his
supper. If she remained at home in the evening John went out
silently, after his return at his usual hour, and was joined by Cyril
as soon as Captain Dave said good-night and went in to his bedroom.
At midnight they re-entered the house and stole up to their rooms,
leaving their doors open and listening attentively for another hour
before they tried to get to sleep.
On the sixth morning Cyril noticed that Nellie was silent and
abstracted at breakfast-time. She went out marketing with her mother
afterwards, and at dinner her mood had changed. She talked and
laughed more than usual. There was a flush of excitement on her
cheeks, and he drew the conclusion that in the morning she had not
come to an absolute decision, but had probably given an answer to the
man during the time she was out with her mother, and that she felt
the die was now cast.
"Pass the word to Matthew to keep an extra sharp watch this afternoon
and to-morrow, John. I think the time is close at hand," he said, as
they went downstairs together after dinner.
"Do you think so? Well, the sooner the better. It is trying work,
this here spying, and I don't care how soon it is over. I only hope
it will end by our running down this pirate and engaging him."
"I hope so too, John. I feel it very hard to be sitting at table with
her and Captain Dave and her mother, and to know that she is
deceiving them."
"I can't say a word for her," the old sailor said, shaking his head.
"She has as good parents as a girl could want to have. They would
give their lives for her, either of them, cheerful, and there she is
thinking of running away from them with a scamp she knows nothing of
and has probably never spoken with for an hour. I knew her head was a
bit turned with young fellows dangling after her, and by being
noticed by some of the Court gallants at the last City ball, and by
being made the toast by many a young fellow in City taverns--'Pretty
Mistress Nellie Dowsett'; but I did not think her head was so turned
that she would act as she is doing. Well, well, we must hope that
this will be a lesson, Master Cyril, that she will remember all her
life."
"I hope so, John, and I trust that we shall be able to manage it all
so that the matter will never come to her parents' ears."
"I hope so, and I don't see why it should. The fellow may bluster,
but he will say nothing about it because he would get into trouble
for trying to carry off a citizen's daughter."
"And besides that, John,--which would be quite as serious in the eyes
of a fellow of this sort,--he would have the laugh against him among
all his companions for having been outwitted in the City. So I think
when he finds the game is up he will be glad enough to make off
without causing trouble."
"Don't you think we might give him a sound thrashing? It would do him
a world of good."
"I don't think it would do a man of that sort much good, John, and he
would be sure to shout, and then there would be trouble, and the
watch might come up, and we should all get hauled off together. In
the morning the whole story would be known, and Mistress Nellie's
name in the mouth of every apprentice in the City. No, no; if he is
disposed to go off quietly, by all means let him go."
"I have no doubt that you are right, Master Cyril, but it goes
mightily against the grain to think that a fellow like that is to get
off with a whole skin. However, if one should fall foul of him some
other time, one might take it out of him."
Captain Dave found Cyril but a bad listener to his stories that
evening, and, soon after nine, said he should turn in.
"I don't know what ails you to-night, Cyril," he said. "Your wits are
wool-gathering, somewhere. I don't believe that you heard half that
last story I was telling you."
"I heard it all, sir; but I do feel a little out of sorts this
evening."
"You do too much writing, lad. My head would be like to go to pieces
if I were to sit half the hours that you do at a desk."
When Captain Dave went into his room, Cyril walked upstairs and
closed his bedroom door with a bang, himself remaining outside. Then
he took off his boots, and, holding them in his hand, went
noiselessly downstairs to the front door. The lock had been carefully
oiled, and, after putting on his boots again, he went out.
"You are right, Master Cyril, sure enough," John Wilkes said when he
joined him, fifty yards away from the house. "It is to-night she is
going to try to make off. I thought I had best keep Matthew at hand,
so I bid him stop till I came out, then sent him round to have a pint
of ale at the tavern, and when he came back told him he had best
cruise about, and look for signs of pirates. He came back ten minutes
ago, and told me that a sedan chair had just been brought to the
other end of the lane. It was set down some thirty yards from
Fenchurch Street. There were the two chairmen and three fellows
wrapped up in cloaks."
"That certainly looks like action, John. Well, I should say that
Matthew had better take up his station at the other end of the lane,
there to remain quiet until he hears an uproar at the chair; then he
can run up to our help if we need it. We will post ourselves near the
door. No doubt Harvey, and perhaps one of his friends, will come and
wait for her. We can't interfere with them here, but must follow and
come up with her just before they reach the chair. The further they
are away from the house the better. Then if there is any trouble
Captain Dave will not hear anything of it."
"That will be a good plan of operations," John agreed. "Matthew is
just round the next corner. I will send him to Fenchurch Street at
once."
He went away, and rejoined Cyril in two or three minutes. They then
went along towards the house, and took post in a doorway on the other
side of the street, some thirty yards from the shop. They had
scarcely done so, when they heard footsteps, and presently saw two
men come along in the middle of the street. They stopped and looked
round.
"There is not a soul stirring," one said. "We can give the signal."
So saying, he sang a bar or two of a song popular at the time, and
they then drew back from the road into a doorway and waited.
Five minutes later, Cyril and his fellow-watcher heard a very slight
sound, and a figure stepped out from Captain Dowsett's door. The two
men crossed at once and joined her. A few low words were spoken, and
they moved away together, and turned up the lane.
As soon as they disappeared from sight, Cyril and John Wilkes issued
out. The latter had produced some long strips of cloth, which he
wound round both their boots, so as, he said, to muffle the oars.
Their steps, therefore, as they followed, were almost noiseless.
Walking fast, they came up to the three persons ahead of them just as
they reached the sedan chair. The two chairmen were standing at the
poles, and a third man was holding the door open with his hat in his
hand.
"Avast heaving, mates!" John Wilkes said. "It seems to me as you are
running this cargo without proper permits."
Nellie gave a slight scream on hearing the voice, while the man
beside her stepped forward, exclaiming furiously:
"S" death, sir! who are you, and what are you interfering about?"
"I am an honest man I hope, master. My name is John Wilkes, and, as
that young lady will tell you, I am in the employ of her father."
"Then I tell you, John Wilkes, or John the Devil, or whatever your
name maybe, that if you don't at once take yourself off, I will let
daylight into you," and he drew his sword, as did his two companions.
John gave a whistle, and the wooden-legged man was heard hurrying up
from Fenchurch Street.
"Cut the scoundrel down, Penrose," Harvey exclaimed, "while I put the
lady into the chair."
The man addressed sprang at Wilkes, but in a moment his Court sword
was shivered by a blow from the latter's cudgel, which a moment later
fell again on his head, sending him reeling back several paces.
"Stay, sir, or I will run you through," Cyril said, pricking Harvey
sharply in the arm as he was urging Nellie to enter the chair.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" the other exclaimed, in a tone of fury. "My
boy of Cheapside! Well, I can spare a moment to punish you."
"Oh, do not fight with him, my lord!" Nellie exclaimed.
"My lord!" Cyril laughed. "So he has become a lord, eh?"
Then he changed his tone.
"Mistress Nellie, you have been deceived. This fellow is no lord. He
is a hanger-on of the Court, one John Harvey, a disreputable
blackguard whom I heard boasting to his boon-companions of his
conquest. I implore you to return home as quietly as you went. None
will know of this."
He broke off suddenly, for, with an oath, Harvey rushed at him. Their
swords clashed, there was a quick thrust and parry, and then Harvey
staggered back with a sword-wound through the shoulder, dropping his
sword to the ground.
"Your game is up, John Harvey," Cyril said. "Did you have your
deserts I would pass my sword through your body. Now call your
fellows off, or it will be worse for them."
"Oh, it is not true? Surely it cannot be true?" Nellie cried,
addressing Harvey. "You cannot have deceived me?"
The fellow, smarting with pain, and seeing that the game was up,
replied with a savage curse.
"You may think yourself lucky that you are only disabled, you
villain!" Cyril said, taking a step towards him with his sword
menacingly raised. "Begone, sir, before my patience is exhausted, or,
by heaven! it will be your dead body that the chairmen will have to
carry away."
"Disabled or not," John Wilkes exclaimed, "I will have a say in the
matter;" and, with a blow with his cudgel, he stretched Harvey on the
ground, and belaboured him furiously until Cyril dragged him away by
force. Harvey rose slowly to his feet.
"Take yourself off, sir," Cyril said. "One of your brave companions
has long ago bolted; the other is disarmed, and has his head broken.
You may thank your stars that you have escaped with nothing worse
than a sword-thrust through your shoulder, and a sound drubbing.
Hanging would be a fit punishment for knaves like you. I warn you, if
you ever address or in any way molest this lady again, you won't get
off so easily."
Then he turned and offered his arm to Nellie, who was leaning against
the wall in a half-fainting state. Not a word was spoken until they
emerged from the lane.
"No one knows of this but ourselves, Mistress Nellie, and you will
never hear of it from us. Glad indeed I am that I have saved you from
the misery and ruin that must have resulted from your listening to
that plausible scoundrel. Go quietly upstairs. We will wait here till
we are sure that you have gone safely into your room; then we will
follow. I doubt not that you are angry with me now, but in time you
will feel that you have been saved from a great danger."
The door was not locked. He lifted the latch silently, and held the
door open for her to pass in. Then he closed it again, and turned to
the two men who followed them.
"This has been a good night's work, John."
"That has it. I don't think that young spark will be coming after
City maidens again. Well, it has been a narrow escape for her. It
would have broken the Captain's heart if she had gone in that way.
What strange things women are! I have always thought Mistress Nellie
as sensible a girl as one would want to see. Given a little
over-much, perhaps, to thinking of the fashion of her dress, but that
was natural enough, seeing how pretty she is and how much she is made
of; and yet she is led, by a few soft speeches from a man she knows
nothing of, to run away from home, and leave father, and mother, and
all. Well, Matthew, lad, we sha'n't want any more watching. You have
done a big service to the master, though he will never know it. I
know I can trust you to keep a stopper on your jaws. Don't you let a
soul know of this--not even your wife."
"You trust me, mate," the man replied. "My wife is a good soul, but
her tongue runs nineteen to the dozen, and you might as well shout a
thing out at Paul's Cross as drop it into her ear. I think my back
will be well enough for me to come to work again to-morrow," he
added, with a laugh.
"All right, mate. I shall be glad to have you again, for the chap who
has been in your place is a landsman, and he don't know a
marling-spike from an anchor. Good-night, mate."
"Well, Master Cyril," he went on, as the sailor walked away, "I don't
think there ever was such a good wind as that which blew you here.
First of all you saved Captain Dave's fortune, and now you save his
daughter. I look on Captain Dave as being pretty nigh the same as
myself, seeing as I have been with him man and boy for over thirty
years, and I feel what you have done for him just as if you had done
it for me. I am only a rough sailor-man, and I don't know how to put
it in words, but I feel just full up with a cargo of thankfulness."
"That is all right," Cyril said, holding out his hand, which John
Wilkes shook with a heartiness that was almost painful. "Captain Dave
offered me a home when I was alone without a friend in London, and I
am glad indeed that I have been able to render him service in return.
I myself have done little enough, though I do not say that the
consequences have not been important. It has been just taking a
little trouble and keeping a few watches--a thing not worth talking
about one way or the other. I hope this will do Mistress Nellie good.
She is a nice girl, but too fond of admiration, and inclined to think
that she is meant for higher things than to marry a London citizen. I
think to-night's work will cure her of that. This fellow evidently
made himself out to her to be a nobleman of the Court. Now she sees
that he is neither a nobleman nor a gentleman, but a ruffian who took
advantage of her vanity and inexperience, and that she would have
done better to have jumped down the well in the yard than to have put
herself in his power. Now we can go up to bed. There is no more
probability of our waking the Captain than there has been on other
nights; but mind, if we should do so, you stick to the story we
agreed on, that you thought there was someone by the gate in the lane
again, and so called me to go down with you to investigate, not
thinking it worth while to rouse up the Captain on what might be a
false alarm."
Everything remained perfectly quiet as they made their way upstairs
to their rooms as silently as possible.
"Where is Nellie?" Captain Dave asked, when they assembled at
breakfast.
"She is not well," his wife replied, "I went to her room just now and
found that she was still a-bed. She said that she had a bad headache,
and I fear that she is going to have a fever, for her face is pale
and her eyes red and swollen, just as if she had been well-nigh
crying them out of her head; her hands are hot and her pulse fast.
Directly I have had breakfast I shall make her some camomile tea, and
if that does not do her good I shall send for the doctor."
"Do so, wife, without delay. Why, the girl has never ailed a day for
years! What can have come to her?"
"She says it is only a bad headache--that all she wants is to be left
alone."
"Yes, yes; that is all very well, but if she does not get better soon
she must be seen to. They say that there were several cases last week
of that plague that has been doing so much harm in foreign parts, and
if that is so it behoves us to be very careful, and see that any
illness is attended to without delay."
"I don't think that there is any cause for alarm," his wife said
quietly. "The child has got a headache and is a little feverish, but
there is no occasion whatever for thinking that it is anything more.
There is nothing unusual in a girl having a headache, but Nellie has
had such good health that if she had a prick in the finger you would
think it was serious."
"By the way, John," Captain Dave said suddenly, "did you hear any
noise in the lane last night? Your room is at the back of the house,
and you were more likely to have heard it than I was. I have just
seen one of the watch, and he tells me that there was a fray there
last night, for there is a patch of blood and marks of a scuffle. It
was up at the other end. There is some mystery about it, he thinks,
for he says that one of his mates last night saw a sedan chair
escorted by three men turn into the lane from Fenchurch Street just
before ten o'clock, and one of the neighbours says that just after
that hour he heard a disturbance and a clashing of swords there. On
looking out, he saw something dark that might have been a chair
standing there, and several men engaged in a scuffle. It seemed soon
over, and directly afterwards three people came down the lane this
way. Then he fancied that someone got into the chair, which was
afterwards carried out into Fenchurch Street."
"I did hear something that sounded like a quarrel or a fray," John
Wilkes said, "but there is nothing unusual about that. As everything
was soon quiet again, I gave no further thought to it."
"Well, it seems a curious affair, John. However, it is the business
of the City watch and not mine, so we need not bother ourselves about
it. I am glad to see you have got Matthew at work again this morning.
He tells me that he thinks he has fairly got over that sprain in his
back."