M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS
Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves
from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness
and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet
bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M.
de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of
paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh
group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth
and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The
King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a
man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of
the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who
had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face
scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes,
firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent
and caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to
suspect him?
There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party
of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I
recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who
had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have
come on Phineas.
"We found the two together," he was saying, "this man and Mr Dale's
servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with
pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in
front of the house that I have named----"
"Yes, yes, enough of the house," interrupted the King impatiently.
"In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once,
the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving
to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed
ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough,
and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found
that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers
with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the
stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him,
but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had
got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now."
I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves
on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came
from behind my chair.
"That man must be pursued," said M. de Perrencourt. "Who knows that
there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned
to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there
not have been others in the wicked scheme?"
"True, true," said the King uneasily. "We must lay this Jonah Wall by
the heels. What's known of him?"
Thinking the appeal was made to me, I strove to rise. M. de
Perrencourt's arm reached over the back of my chair and kept me down. I
heard Darrell take up the story and tell what he knew--and it was as
much as I knew--of Jonah Wall, and what he knew of Phineas Tate also.
"It is a devilish plot," said the King, who was still greatly shaken and
perturbed.
Then Phineas spoke loudly, boldly, and with a voice full of the
rapturous fanaticism which drowned conscience and usurped in him
religion's place.
"Here," he cried, "are the plots, here are the devilish plots! What do
you here? Aye, what do you plot here? Is this man's life more than God's
Truth? Is God's Word to be lost that the sins and debauchery of this man
may continue?"
His long lean forefinger pointed at the King. A mute consternation fell
for an instant on them all, and none interrupted him. They had no answer
ready for his question; men do not count on such questions being asked
at Court, the manners are too good there.
"Here are the plots! I count myself blessed to die in the effort to
thwart them! I have failed, but others shall not fail! God's Judgment is
sure. What do you here, Charles Stuart?"
M. de Perrencourt walked suddenly and briskly round to where the King
sat and whispered in his ear. The King nodded, and said,
"I think this fellow is mad, but it's a dangerous madness."
Phineas did not heed him, but cried aloud,
"And you here--are you all with him? Are you all apostates from God? Are
you all given over to the superstitions of Rome? Are you all here to
barter God's word and----"
The King sprang to his feet.
"I won't listen," he cried. "Stop his cursed mouth. I won't listen." He
looked round with fear and alarm in his eyes. I perceived his gaze
turned towards his son and Buckingham. Following it, I saw their faces
alight with eagerness, excitement, and curiosity. Arlington looked down
at the table; Clifford leant his head on his hand. At the other end the
Duke of York had sprung up like his brother, and was glaring angrily at
the bold prisoner. Darrell did not wait to be bidden twice, but whipped
a silk handkerchief from his pocket.
"Here and now the deed is being done!" cried Phineas. "Here and now----"
He could say no more; in spite of his desperate struggles, he was gagged
and stood silent, his eyes still burning with the message which his lips
were not suffered to utter. The King sank back in his seat, and cast a
furtive glance round the table. Then he sighed, as though in relief, and
wiped his brow. Monmouth's voice came clear, careless, confident.
"What's this madness?" he asked. "Who here is bartering God's Word? And
for what, pray?"
No answer was given to him; he glanced in insolent amusement at
Arlington and Clifford, then in insolent defiance at the Duke of York.
"Is not the religion of the country safe with the King?" he asked,
bowing to his father.
"So safe, James, that it does not need you to champion it," said the
King dryly; yet his voice trembled a little. Phineas raised that lean
forefinger at him again, and pointed. "Tie the fellow's arms to his
side," the King commanded in hasty irritation; he sighed again when the
finger could no longer point at him, and his eyes again furtively sought
Monmouth's face. The young Duke leant back with a scornful smile, and
the consciousness of the King's regard did not lead him to school his
face to any more seemly expression. My wits had come back now, although
my head ached fiercely and my body was full of acute pain; but I
watched all that passed, and I knew that, come what might, they would
not let Phineas speak. Yet Phineas could know nothing. Nay, but the
shafts of madness, often wide, may once hit the mark. The paper that had
lain between the King and M. de Perrencourt was hidden.
Again the French gentleman bent and whispered in the King's ear. He
spoke long this time, and all kept silence while he spoke--Phineas
because he must, the lieutenant with surprised eyes, the rest in that
seeming indifference which, as I knew, masked their real deference. At
last the King looked up, nodded, and smiled. His air grew calmer and
more assured, and the trembling was gone from his voice as he spoke.
"Come, gentlemen," said he, "while we talk this ruffian who has escaped
us makes good pace from Dover. Let the Duke of Monmouth and the Duke of
Buckingham each take a dozen men and scour the country for him. I shall
be greatly in the debt of either who brings him to me."
The two Dukes started. The service which the King demanded of them
entailed an absence of several hours from the Castle. It might be that
they, or one of them, would learn something from Jonah Wall; but it was
far more likely that they would not find him, or that he would not
suffer himself to be taken alive. Why were they sent, and not a couple
of the officers on duty? But if the King's object were to secure their
absence, the scheme was well laid. I thought now that I could guess
what M. de Perrencourt had said in that whispered conference. Buckingham
had the discretion to recognise when the game went against him. He rose
at once with a bow, declaring that he hastened to obey the King's
command, and would bring the fellow in, dead or alive. Monmouth had less
self-control. He rose indeed, but reluctantly and with a sullen frown on
his handsome face.
"It's poor work looking for a single man over the countryside," he
grumbled.
"Your devotion to me will inspire and guide you, James," observed the
King. A chance of mocking another made him himself again as no other
cure could. "Come, lose no time." Then the King added: "Take this fellow
away, and lock him up. Mr Darrell, see that you guard him well, and let
nobody come near him."
M. de Perrencourt whispered.
"Above all, let him speak to nobody. He must tell what he knows only at
the right time," added the King.
"When will that be?" asked Monmouth audibly, yet so low that the King
could feign not to hear and smiled pleasantly at his son. But still the
Duke lingered, although Buckingham was gone and Phineas Tate had been
led out between his custodians. His eyes sought mine, and I read an
appeal in them. That he desired to take me with him in pursuit of Jonah
Wall, I did not think; but he desired above all things to get me out of
that room, to have speech with me, to know that I was free to work out
the scheme which Buckingham had disclosed to me. Nay, it was not
unlikely that his search for Jonah Wall would lead him to the hostelry
of the Merry Mariners at Deal. And for my plan too, which differed so
little yet so much from his, for that also I must be free. I rose to my
feet, delighted to find that I could stand well and that my pains grew
no more severe with movement.
"I am at your Grace's orders," said I. "May I ride with you, sir?"
The King looked at me doubtfully.
"I should be glad of your company," said the Duke, "if your health
allows."
"Most fully, sir," I answered, and turning to the King I begged his
leave to depart. And that leave I should, as I think, have obtained, but
for the fact that once again M. de Perrencourt whispered to the King.
The King rose from his seat, took M. de Perrencourt's arm and walked
with him to where his Grace stood. I watched them, till a little stifled
laugh caught my attention. Madame's face was merry, and hers the laugh.
She saw my look on her and laughed again, raising her finger to her lips
in a swift stealthy motion. She glanced round apprehensively, but her
action had passed unnoticed; the Duke of York seemed sunk in a dull
apathy, Clifford and Arlington were busy in conversation. What did she
mean? Did she confess that I held their secret and impose silence on me
by a more than royal command, by the behest of bright eyes and red lips
which dared me to betray their confidence? On the moment's impulse I
bowed assent; Madame nodded merrily and waved a kiss with her dainty
hand; no word passed, but I felt that I, being a gentleman, could tell
no man alive what I suspected, aye, what I knew, concerning M. de
Perrencourt. Thus lightly are pledges given when ladies ask them.
The Duke of Monmouth started back with a sudden angry motion. The King
smiled at him; M. de Perrencourt laid a hand, decked with rich rings, on
his lace cuff. Madame rose, laughing still, and joined the three. I
cannot tell what passed--alas, that the matters of highest interest are
always elusive!--but a moment later Monmouth fell back with as sour a
look as I have ever seen on a man's face, bowed slightly and not
over-courteously, faced round and strode through the doorway, opening
the door for himself. I heard Madame's gay laugh, again the King spoke,
Madame cried, "Fie," and hid her face with her hand. M. de Perrencourt
advanced towards me; the King caught his arm. "Pooh, he knows already,"
muttered Perrencourt, half under his breath, but he gave way, and the
King came to me first.
"Sir," said he, "the Duke of Monmouth has had the dutiful kindness to
release his claim on your present services, and to set you free to serve
me."
I bowed very low, answering,
"His Grace is bountiful of kindness to me, and has given the greatest
proof of it in enabling me to serve Your Majesty."
"My pleasure is," pursued the King, "that you attach yourself to my
friend M. de Perrencourt here, and accompany him and hold yourself at
his disposal until further commands from me reach you."
M. de Perrencourt stepped forward and addressed me.
"In two hours' time, sir," said he, "I beg you to be ready to accompany
me. A ship lies yonder at the pier, waiting to carry His Excellency M.
Colbert de Croissy and myself to Calais to-night on business of moment.
Since the King gives you to me, I pray your company."
"Till then, Mr Dale, adieu," said the King. "Not a word of what has
passed here to-night to any man--or any woman. Be in readiness. You know
enough, I think, to tell you that you receive a great honour in M. de
Perrencourt's request. Your discretion will show your worthiness. Kiss
Madame's hand and leave us."
They both smiled at me, and I stood half-bewildered. "Go," said M. de
Perrencourt with a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. The two turned
away. Madame held out her hand towards me; I bent and kissed it.
"Mr Dale," said she, "you have all the virtues."
"Alas, Madame, I fear you don't mean to commend me."
"Yes, for a rarity, at least. But you have one vice."
"It shall be mended, if your Royal Highness will tell its name."
"Nay, I shall increase it by naming it. But here it is; your eyes are
too wide open, Mr Dale."
"My mother, Madame, used to accuse me of a trick of keeping them
half-shut."
"Your mother had not seen you at Court, sir."
"True, Madame, nor had my eyes beheld your Royal Highness."
She laughed, pleased with a compliment which was well in the mode then,
though my sons may ridicule it; but as she turned away she added,
"I shall not be with you to-night, and M. de Perrencourt hates a staring
eye."
I was warned and I was grateful. But there I stopped. Since Heaven had
given me my eyes, nothing on earth could prevent them opening when
matter worth the looking was presented. And perhaps they might be open,
and yet seem shut to M. de Perrencourt. With a final salute to the
exalted company I went out; as I went they resumed their places at the
table, M. de Perrencourt saying, "Come, let us finish. I must be away
before dawn."
I returned to my quarters in no small turmoil; yet my head, though it
still ached sorely from the effect of tasting that draught so
fortunately dashed from my hand, was clear enough, and I could put
together all the pieces of the puzzle save one. But that one chanced to
be of some moment to me, for it was myself. The business with the King
which had brought M. de Perrencourt so stealthily to Dover was finished,
or was even now being accomplished; his presence and authority had
reinforced Madame's persuasions, and the treaty was made. But in these
high affairs I had no place. If I would find my work I must look
elsewhere, to the struggle that had arisen between M. de Perrencourt and
his Grace the Duke of Monmouth, in which the stakes were not wars or
religions, and the quarrel of simpler nature. In that fight Louis (for I
did not trouble to maintain his disguise in my thoughts) had won, as he
was certain to win if he put forth his strength. My heart was sore for
Mistress Barbara. I knew that she was to be the spoil of the French
King's victory, and that the loss to the beauty of his Court caused by
the departure of Mlle. de Quérouaille was to find compensation. But,
still, where was my part? I saw only one thing: that Louis had taken a
liking for me, and might well choose me as his instrument, if an
instrument were needed. But for what and where it was needed I could not
conceive; since all France was under his feet, and a thousand men would
spring up to do his bidding at a word--aye, let the bidding be what it
might, and the task as disgraceful as you will. What were the qualities
in me or in my condition that dictated his choice baffled conjecture.
Suddenly came a low knock on the door. I opened it and a man slipped in
quickly and covertly. To my amazement, I saw Carford. He had kept much
out of sight lately; I supposed that he had discovered all he wanted
from Monmouth's ready confidence, and had carried his ill-won gains to
his paymaster. But supposing that he would keep up the comedy I said
stiffly,
"You come to me from the Duke of Monmouth, my lord?"
He was in no mood for pretence to-night. He was in a state of great
excitement, and, brushing aside all reserve, made at once for the point.
"I am come," said he, "to speak a word with you. In an hour you're to
sail for France?"
"Yes," said I. "Those are the King's orders."
"But in an hour you could be so far from here that he with whom you go
could not wait for your return."
"Well, my lord?"
"To be brief, what's your price to fly and not to sail?"
We were standing, facing one another. I answered him slowly, trying to
catch his purpose.
"Why are you willing to pay me a price?" said I. "For it's you who
pays?"
"Yes, I pay. Come, man, you know why you go and who goes with you?"
"M. de Perrencourt and M. Colbert go," said I. "Why I go, I don't know."
"Nor who else goes?" he asked, looking in my eyes. I paused for a moment
and then answered,
"Yes, she goes."
"And you know for what purpose?"
"I can guess the purpose."
"Well, I want to go in your place. I have done with that fool Monmouth,
and the French King would suit me well for a master."
"Then ask him to take you also."
"He will not; he'll rather take you."
"Then I'll go," said I.
He drew a step nearer to me. I watched him closely, for, on my life, I
did not know in what mood he was, and his honour was ill to lean on as a
waving reed.
"What will you gain by going?" he asked. "And if you fly he will take
me. Somebody he must take."
"Is not M. Colbert enough?"
He looked at me suspiciously, as though he thought that I assumed
ignorance.
"You know very well that Colbert wouldn't serve his purpose."
"By my faith," I cried, "I don't know what his purpose is."
"You swear it?" he asked in distrust and amazement.
"Most willingly," I answered. "It is simple truth."
He gazed at me still as though but half-convinced.
"Then what's your purpose in going?" he asked.
"I obey my orders. Yet I have a purpose, and one I had rather trust with
myself than with you, my lord."
"Pray, sir, what is it?"
"To serve and guard the lady who goes also."
After a moment of seeming surprise, he broke into a sneering laugh.
"You go to guard her?" he said.
"Her and her honour," I answered steadily. "And I do not desire to
resign that task into your hands, my lord."
"What will you do? How will you serve her?" he asked.
A sudden suspicion of him seized me. His manner had changed to a forced
urbanity; when he was civil he was treacherous.
"That's my secret, my lord," I answered. "I have preparations to make. I
pray you, give me leave." I opened the door and held it for him.
His rage mastered him; he grew red and the veins swelled on his
forehead.
"By heaven, you shan't go," he cried, and clapped his hand to his sword.
"Who says that Mr Dale shall not go?"
A man stood in the doorway, plainly attired, wearing boots, and a cloak
that half-hid his face. Yet I knew him, and Carford knew him. Carford
shrank back, I bowed, and we both bared our heads. M. de Perrencourt
advanced into the room, fixing his eyes on Carford.
"My lord," he said, "when I decline a gentleman's services I am not to
be forced into accepting them, and when I say a gentleman shall go with
me he goes. Have you a quarrel with me on that account?"
Carford found no words in which to answer him, but his eyes told that he
would have given the world to draw his sword against M. de Perrencourt,
or, indeed, against the pair of us. A gesture of the newcomer's arm
motioned him to the door. But he had one sentence more to hear before he
was suffered to slink away.
"Kings, my lord," said M. de Perrencourt, "may be compelled to set spies
about the persons of others. They do not need them about their own."
Carford turned suddenly white, and his teeth set. I thought that he
would fly at the man who rebuked him so scornfully; but such an outbreak
meant death; he controlled himself. He passed out, and Louis, with a
careless laugh, seated himself on my bed. I stood respectfully opposite
to him.
"Make your preparations," said he. "In half an hour's time we depart."
I obeyed him, setting about the task of filling my saddle-bags with my
few possessions. He watched me in silence for awhile. At last he spoke.
"I have chosen you to go with me," he said, "because although you know a
thing, you don't speak of it, and although you see a thing, you can
appear blind."
I remembered that Madame thought my blindness deficient, but I received
the compliment in silence.
"These great qualities," he pursued, "make a man's fortune. You shall
come with me to Paris."
"To Paris, sir?"
"Yes. I'll find work for you there, and those who do my work lack
neither reward nor honour. Come, sir, am I not as good a King to serve
as another?"
"Your Majesty is the greatest Prince in Christendom," said I. For such
indeed all the world held him.
"Yet even the greatest Prince in Christendom fears some things," said
he, smiling.
"Surely nothing, sir?"
"Why, yes. A woman's tongue, a woman's tears, a woman's rage, a woman's
jealousy; I say, Mr Dale, a woman's jealousy."
It was well that my preparations were done, or they had never been done.
I was staring at him now with my hands dropped to my side.
"I am married," he pursued. "That is little." And he shrugged his
shoulders.
"Little enough at Courts, in all conscience," thought I; perhaps my face
betrayed something of the thought, for King Louis smiled.
"But I am more than a husband," he pursued. "I am a lover, Mr Dale."
Not knowing what comment to make on this, I made none. I had heard the
talk about his infatuation, but it was not for me to mention the lady's
name. Nor did the King name her. He rose and approached me, looking full
in my face.
"You are neither a husband nor a lover?" he asked.
"Neither, sir."
"You know Mistress Quinton?"
"Yes, sir."
He was close to me now, and he whispered to me as he had whispered to
the King in the Council Chamber.
"With my favour and such a lady for his wife, a gentleman might climb
high."
I heard the words, and I could not repress a start. At last the puzzle
was pieced, and my part plain. I knew now the work I was to do, the
price of the reward I was to gain. Had he said it a month before, when I
was not yet trained to self-control and concealment, King as he was, I
would have drawn my sword on him. For good or evil dissimulation is soon
learnt. With a great effort I repressed my agitation and hid my
disgust. King Louis smiled at me, deeming what he had suggested no
insult.
"Your wedding shall take place at Calais," he said; and I (I wonder now
to think of it) bowed and smiled.
"Be ready in a quarter of an hour," said he, and left me with a gracious
smile.
I stood there where I was for the best part of the time still left to
me. I saw why Carford desired the mission on which I went, why Madame
bade me practise the closing of my eyes, how my fortune was to come from
the hand of King Louis. An English gentleman and his wife would travel
back with the King; the King would give his favour to both; and the lady
was Barbara Quinton.
I turned at last, and made my final preparation. It was simple; I loaded
my pistol and hid it about me, and I buckled on my sword, seeing that it
moved easily in the sheath. By fortune's will, I had to redeem the
pledge which I had given to my lord; his daughter's honour now knew no
safety but in my arm and wits. Alas, how slender the chance was, and how
great the odds!
Then a sudden fear came upon me. I had lived of late in a Court where
honour seemed dead, and women, no less than men, gave everything for
wealth or place. I had seen nothing of her, no word had come from her to
me. She had scorned Monmouth, but might she not be won to smile on M. de
Perrencourt? I drove the thought from me, but it came again and again,
shaming me and yet fastening on me. She went with M. de Perrencourt; did
she go willingly?
With that thought beating in my brain, I stepped forth to my adventure.