and passed on towards the house.
"Hum! So yonder is her messenger," mused the corporal. "Well, let him
pass, he'll lime our bird for us."
Then he arose, and cautiously resuming his post of observation within
the laurel bush he tossed the note back into the garden. Scarcely had
he done so when Barbara came down the garden, searching eagerly for the
missing paper. Presently she espied it where it lay on the lawn, and
picking it up she placed it carefully in her pocket and returned to the
house, while the corporal chuckled again over his success.
Ten minutes later Peter Drew came into sight round a corner of the
building. He led a sturdy pony by the bridle, and his right arm was
firmly linked in the arm of the unfortunate hawker, who was helpless in
the grip of the powerful smith, and with rage in his heart was forced to
walk along apparently on terms of the greatest friendship with his
companion. For behind them marched the wolfhound, and the hawker knew
that at the least attempt to escape he would be given over at once to
the mercy of this relentless foe. They turned in the direction of the
smithy and soon disappeared from sight. Then all was quiet once more
and the corporal, again extricating himself from the sheltering laurel,
set off for the village to collect his men and make his dispositions for
the evening.
He proceeded with the utmost caution. Two of his men he posted on the
main road to Cannington, where a path turned off over the hill to the
river, and two more some distance up the stream, that they might watch
and follow Sir Rupert should he by chance elect not to visit the Manor
House itself. These he instructed not to interfere with Sir Rupert,
unless he showed signs of scenting a trap, but to allow him to reach his
house unmolested. The remainder he ordered to conceal themselves in the
plantation near the house, and after dusk at a signal from him quietly
to surround the building. He enjoined on all the greatest caution in
concealing themselves, and bade them take good note of all who entered
or left the mansion, but not to prevent any or show themselves until he
gave the signal.
This done he returned to the Winslow Arms and proceeded to fortify his
spirits and strengthen his wits by a hearty meal, thanking his stars the
while that Captain Protheroe's absence gave him the opportunity to
direct the operations in his own way.
"If the matter were but left to the captain, there would be but little
fear for Sir Rupert; he hath neither wit nor stomach for such a job.
Like as not he would have left the women alone, to harbour what rebels
they choose. I marvel how he hath already risen so high in favour, save
that the general is always easy tempered. If the business had been in my
hands alone, the fellow had been laid by the heels long since."
So mused the worthy corporal, as he devoured his dinner and complacently
reviewed his crafty proceedings of the morning.
His meal and his meditations were alike presently cut short by the
entrance of the host, who announced that a man stood without clamouring
for instant permission to speak with the captain, or if that might not
be, with the corporal of the troop.
"'Tis a most persistent fellow. He saith he hath information of great
moment for your honour, but I'll not vouch for the truth of it; he is a
pedlar by trade, and such have ever glib tongues," continued the host
with some scorn.
The corporal started on hearing the man's message; but remembering that
a part of Mistress Barbara's plan was to send a messenger to the captain
he smiled cunningly and ordered that the pedlar be instantly admitted.
"'Tis some traitorous rogue she hath employed, I doubt not," he
muttered, "and a daring fellow withal to venture thus into the net.
'Twere well that such an one be speedily laid by the heels."
Then the door opened and in hurried Simon, the Pedlar.
Breathless and eager, and glancing nervously over his shoulder the
while, he ignored the curt greeting of the corporal and broke at once
roughly into his story.
"'Tis concerning Sir Rupert Winslow," he began. "I have certain
information to sell. I know where he lies hid and likewise whither he
purposes to ride this very night. An it be not so, you may hang me for
a lying rogue. Give me my price and I will deliver him over to you
within three hours. But first I must see my reward."
Had the hawker's mind been in a less agitated condition, had he been
less nervous of pursuit and interruption he had assuredly gone about his
business in a more cautious manner; but so fearful was he lest even at
the eleventh hour he might be prevented from driving his bargain that he
failed entirely to note the effect of his words upon the corporal.
As for that self-complacent mortal, ever since the unceremonious
entrance of the pedlar whom he instantly recognized as the smith's
companion of that morning, his indignation had increased, until at the
final rough demand for money, it overflowed in a furious burst of anger.
Even had he believed the man honest, it is doubtful whether he would
have listened long to one so utterly wanting in all the obsequious
attentions which he considered due to his dignity, but convinced as he
was that the fellow was no more than an impudent impostor, his rage knew
no bounds.
Springing from his chair, and banging furiously with his fist upon the
table he roared at the astonished pedlar, pouring forth upon him such a
torrent of abuse and threats that Simon was terrified. In vain did the
unfortunate pedlar attempt to remonstrate, in vain did he plead that his
tale might be put to the proof, the corporal would hear no more, and
before he could grasp the reason of this unexpected anger he found
himself marched away between two troopers and securely locked into an
upper chamber of the inn, where he was left to meditate in solitude upon
his second unsuccessful attempt at bargain driving, and to curse the ill
fate that had led him so to over-reach himself.
Then, with a pleasing sense of duty done and villainy outwitted, the
corporal soothed his ruffled feelings with a cooling draught of cider,
finished his dinner in peace, and departed once more to take up a
position behind his well-tried laurel bush, whence he could survey at
once the stream, the lawn, and the entrance to the house itself.
Ten minutes after his departure an anonymous note was left at the Inn
for Captain Protheroe. The note lay unheeded on the table, but
Barbara's mission had already been unwittingly fulfilled by the very man
who sought to betray her.
*CHAPTER VI*
Time passed slowly for the corporal as he crouched wearily at his post.
The garden remained deserted. Late in the afternoon three maid-servants
chattering gaily, he supposed at the prospect of an evening holiday,
came out and set off for the village, calling back saucy messages to
Phoebe Marlow, who, from the doorway disconsolately watched them depart.
Then again all was silent.
The bright promise of the early morning hours was not fulfilled. The
evening sky was heavy with clouds and dusk fell early. The corporal had
changed his position a hundred times, had yawned and sighed, and even
nodded once or twice before the longed-for hour arrived.
But at length, about ten o'clock, a light twinkled in one of the windows
of the dark and silent house, and presently the soft swish of a paddle
up the stream was audible.
The corporal held his breath and craned forward, looking and listening
eagerly. He heard the dull thud of the boat against the bank, a paddle
drop, soft footfalls on the lawn, and presently the dark figure of a man
loomed into sight, and passed quickly toward the house.
But ere he reached the building, the door was flung wide and a woman
appeared on the lintel with outstretched arms, crying loud, "Rupert! At
last! At last!"
For an instant the figures stood revealed in the glare of light from the
doorway, and the corporal noted a tall, slender youth with bright
complexion and dark, curling hair, falling in love-locks to his
shoulders, as Barbara had described him, herself in form and feature.
Taking the woman into his arms, they passed into the house together, and
the door was closed.
For a few moments the corporal waited cautiously, then as all remained
quiet, he crept from his hiding-place and, cracking his fingers with
delight at the success of his enterprise, gave the signal for his men to
surround the house.
In five minutes they were posted to his satisfaction, so carefully that
not a cat could escape unobserved, and having ordered them to let any
enter who would (for he had as lief catch a dozen rebels as one), but to
allow none to leave the building without his express command, he
approached the entrance and delivered a thundering blow upon the door.
There was no answer. The echoes died away in the distance and the house
remained silent as night.
He raised his arm for a second blow, when a light touch on the shoulder
caused him to spring round in astonishment and fear, for his heart was
already in his mouth with excitement and self-importance.
Behind him stood Captain Protheroe, regarding him grimly.
"How now, corporal?" demanded the captain sharply, "What is the meaning
of this? I came riding down the lane when I find three troopers
crouching by the gate yonder, for all the world like conies in their
burrow, and I learn, forsooth, that you have surrounded this house and
were even about to force an entrance. What warrant have you for this,
and why was I not informed sooner of the matter? Must I again teach
you, sirrah, that you take too much upon yourself?"
The corporal regarded him sulkily.
"There is a traitor within, captain," he muttered.
"Bah! another of your mare's nests, I make no doubt. What proof have
you?"
"Proof enough and to spare," answered the corporal stoutly. "Witness my
own eyes and ears," and he rapidly reported all that had passed. The
captain's face hardened as he listened and he glanced sharply up at the
house.
"Ah! it seems you are on the right track for once. But zounds, fool," he
continued angrily, "why, in Heaven's name, didn't you trap him before he
entered the house and leave the women-folk in peace? I warrant we'll
have a bad business now. Dolt! Well, there is no other way now. Knock
again and on with the work. 'Twill be a wretched business," he muttered
with a shrug and a wry smile.
The corporal again knocked loudly, and after a considerable interval,
footsteps were heard inside, and a voice demanded timidly who was there.
"Open at once, i' the King's name," roared the corporal.
"Marry, then, which king?" answered the voice, "there be so many kings
nowadays."
"Open in the name of King James," was the angry answer.
"Now wherefore King James? King Monmouth was far better favoured,"
answered the voice.
"Zounds, fellow!" interrupted the captain angrily, "wouldest parley all
day?" Then dealing a furious blow on the door, he shouted angrily:
"An ye open not instantly, I must break in the door."
"Beshrew me! Here's a gentle visitor!" was the answer, and then the
door yielded to their pressure and the captain, followed by the corporal
and three troopers, entered the house.
They paused, however, on the threshold, and Captain Protheroe muttered a
despairing exclamation, for the hall was empty save for Mistress
Barbara, who, dropping them a mocking curtsey, demanded gravely to what
cause she owed the honour of such a visit.
Captain Protheroe quickly recovered his composure and bowed politely,
mentally observing that never before had he done full justice to the
girl's beauty, or fully realised the fascination that may lurk in soft
dark curls trailing over a snowy forehead and nestling into the nape of
a beautifully formed neck.
"It grieves me to be thus forced to intrude upon your privacy, Mistress
Winslow," he began gently, "but I must obey orders. Methinks you need
scarcely pretend ignorance as to the reason of my presence."
"Bless the man!" exclaimed Barbara cheerfully, "does he think his
business is writ large on his brow? I assure you, sir, I know nothing
whatever of the cause of such a visit."
Captain Protheroe raised his eyebrows.
"In that case, madame, I must inform you. I have certain knowledge that
a fugitive has taken refuge in this house, and it is my intention not to
leave the place until I have found him."
"A most laudable intention, sir, though I fear me it means that you will
remain here for the rest of your natural life. But pray tell me, how
long has it been the custom for an honourable gentleman to turn
man-hunter?"
The captain reddened angrily.
"It is not a task I would gladly choose, madame, as you might know. But
I am not here to discuss the virtue of my orders, I am here to search
for this rebel."
"Then in Heaven's name go and search for him elsewhere. I assure you he
is not here," exclaimed Barbara petulantly.
Captain Protheroe looked at her for a moment questioningly.
"Will you swear to me that such is the truth, madame?" he asked.
Barbara hesitated for a moment. Then she turned away impatiently and
walked back into the room.
"Nay, an my word be not enough, I will swear nothing. Yet I assure you
the man you seek is not here."
But even as she spoke the words, she stopped with a stifled cry, for in
the centre of the floor lay a man's hat, stained and draggled, but
serving, with its long plume and jewelled clasp, as an outspoken traitor
to its master.
The captain's glance fell on the hat at the same moment, and he turned
to Barbara with a questioning smile. But she had recovered herself in
an instant. Walking coolly forward, she concealed the treacherous hat
beneath her skirt, until with a dexterous movement she swept it out of
sight under the table, while at the same time she unconcernedly (though
a trifle breathlessly) repeated her former statement that the man they
sought was not in the house.
Captain Protheroe, marvelling greatly at a woman's strangely
discriminating sense of honour, which will permit her to assert a fact
but not to swear to it, smiled at her statement and bowed politely.
"So be it, madame. Then nought remains save for me to order my men to
commence the search at once, since you so resolutely refuse to give up
the traitor. I am distressed to disturb you, but search I must."
"Marry! sir, then search," cried Barbara, with a sudden suspiciously
hysterical laugh. "Perchance he lurks behind this curtain, or cowers
beneath the table. Think you he is concealed in yonder snuff-box, or is
hid beneath my petticoats? Prithee, search well, for there is no
telling where the rogue may lie," and assuming a mock air of importance
closely resembling that of the corporal, she commenced a solemn
burlesque of the search, hurrying about the room, and carefully
examining the most impossible hiding-places, while the captain bit his
lip to prevent a smile, and the troopers watched her mimicry of their
efforts with embarrassed indignation.
When she had concluded her tour of the room, Barbara turned to the
astonished soldiers and remarked with mock solemnity:
"You see, I am correct, he cannot be here."
"We are deeply indebted to you for this entertainment, madame,"
interrupted the captain with grave politeness. "Now we will commence
the search in earnest."
The laughter died from Barbara's face, and a strange hunted look crept
into her eyes. She glanced round helplessly, as though seeking means of
escape, then casting a pleading glance at the captain, she said in a
trembling voice:
"If you still persist in your error, you must e'en do as you list," and
with a low sigh she turned away and sank wearily into a chair.
Captain Protheroe gave the necessary orders and the corporal and
troopers departed on their errand. Then he turned doubtfully towards
the girl.
"I am very sorry for this intrusion, Mistress Barbara," he said gently.
"My corporal, who is but a blundering fellow, made these dispositions
while I was away, otherwise, be assured, I should have taken the fellow
before he entered your house."
"Yes, that would have been far easier for you," she answered calmly.
"For you, madame," he corrected her, smiling. "May I hope I am forgiven
for thus doing my duty?"
Barbara directed upon him a beaming smile.
"Why, as to that, sir, 'tis I who must crave forgiveness for my
inhospitality. I' faith, seeing he is not here, I know not why I should
be so angry at your visit, I should rather pity such a wild-goose chase.
Is it not so?"
"_If_ he were not here, Mistress Barbara, we should deserve no pity, our
intrusion would be quite unpardonable."
"But I have told you that he is not here," she answered eagerly.
"True. And I have told you that he is."
Her lips trembled at his resolute tone, and she turned away her head.
But in a moment she answered brightly:
"'Tis clear, sir, this is a most unprofitable subject for discussion,
seeing we shall never agree. Time must show who is in the right. In
the meantime we will conclude the matter thus: If he be here, the worse
for him; if he be not here--why, the worse for you. What say you now?"
"Madame, your argument is unanswerable."
"Then hence with argument, hither with supper. Come, captain, we'll sign
a truce for the nonce. If I mistake not, you have had a long ride and
spare rations this evening. You are well come. I was about to sup when
you interrupted me, so while your men search the house, you shall bear
me company. You refuse? Why, what fear you? The house is surrounded,
not a creature can escape," she continued bitterly, "and you need not
fear lest the wine be drugged or the meat poisoned, for I, too, intend
to partake of them."
"Ah, madame, those are not the dangers I fear." He shook his head, with
a smile.
"What, then?"
"Look in your mirror, Mistress Barbara, perchance you will understand."
Barbara gave a sudden, laugh of pleased amusement.
"Nay, sir, I protest I have no desire to bewitch you," she answered with
a bright blush.
"Then, madame, why do you look at me?" asked the captain, and his eyes
said more.
Again the dimple deepened and again the lips curved into a smile.
Captain Protheroe detected himself watching for that dimple with a quite
inexplicable and, considering his errand, inexcusable eagerness.
"Methinks the conversation is astray upon a bye-path," she answered
demurely; "let us return to the high-road. I am dying of hunger, and
'tis but dreary to sup alone. Will you not join me?"
As Captain Protheroe had tasted no food since early morning, the offer
was too tempting to be refused.
"Madame, you overwhelm me with kindness," he answered.
She led him to the upper end of the hall, where a table was already laid
with three covers.
"Do you always sup in company with two empty chairs, madame?" he asked
quizzically.
Barbara flushed crimson and hesitated.
"I--I expected friends, sir," she stammered. Then recovering, she
darted a bright glance at him and continued. "And you see my
expectations have been fulfilled, for are you not come?"
"Does not another lady dwell here with you?" he queried indifferently.
"Yes--my cousin, Lady Cicely Winslow. But she--she is out," stammered
Barbara again nervously.
"Ah! so she is sharing the fellow's hiding-place," muttered the captain
to himself. "A piece of folly only possible in a couple of lovers."
Throughout the meal Barbara laughed and chatted gaily, evidently
exerting all her efforts to entertain her guest. She led him on to tell
strange stories of his adventures and his travels, to which she listened
with that eager interest and open admiration of his doings, so dear to
the heart of man; she made him laugh heartily at her quick jests and
saucy answers, and ever and anon as she talked she raised her dark
lashes, and turned upon him the full depths of her wonderful eyes.
But Captain Protheroe was not altogether unversed in the ways of women,
and though he enjoyed to the full the pleasant companionship of her
manner, and drank deep of her beauty, he was in no wise mindful to allow
her charms to turn his thoughts from the matter in hand.
And as he watched her carefully, he noted how from time to time she
would break off abruptly in the middle of a sentence and listen
anxiously to some distant sound in the house, while the smile died from
her face, and her eyes widened with fear. She twisted her fingers
nervously together as she talked, and her laugh was high and shrill.
"She plays her part admirably," he muttered to himself, "but she should
not show her eyes."
"'Tis strange how falsely that base churl Rumour reports," he began,
when Barbara paused once to listen anxiously to the movements of the
searchers overhead. "Now concerning you, madame, methinks he hath
totally misspoken."
"Why, what saith Rumour concerning me?" questioned Barbara with
interest.
"In the first place," he continued, eyeing her steadily, "he reports
that you are fearless both of men, mice, and devils."
"And what then?" she asked, her eyes flashing proudly.
"Why, I say he is a lying fellow, for I see you are as timid as--as a
woman."
"I, sir, timid!" she cried indignantly.
"Aye, madame, you start and tremble at every sound."
"Nay--I assure you--I--I do not so," she stammered, trembling with
eagerness. "Why, wherefore should I tremble."
"Nay, I know not, madame. Save as the poet saith--'A guilty
conscience----'"
"I thank you for the suggestion, sir," she answered with a faint smile.
"I will consult my conscience."
There was a pause, the silence broken only by the distant movements of
the searchers.
"Is there a ghost in the room, madame," asked Captain Protheroe
suddenly.
Barbara started violently.
"A ghost, sir?" she exclaimed.
"Aye, a ghost. I saw you staring at the wall behind me with so
horrified an expression, methought you beheld an apparition at least,
peeping over my shoulder."
Barbara dropped her head and bit her lip.
"'Twas but my own thoughts. There is nothing else."
Captain Protheroe wheeled round in his chair, and stared thoughtfully at
the full-length portrait of an old Winslow knight in armour which
confronted him.
"Now what is there in this same old gentleman (for I trust 'twas not my
appearance that had such a horrifying effect upon you), what is there
here to terrify you?"
"Nothing, sir, I assure you," repeated Barbara faintly.
"Yet there is certainly a strange look about this portrait," he mused.
"There is a glint in his eye that mislikes me. One might almost
believe," he continued, turning towards her, "that he hid some secret
behind that fixed countenance."
Barbara stared at him a moment with terrified face, then she rose
abruptly from the table.
"I--I wish you would leave me, sir," she answered curtly.
"That is a hard saying, madame," he exclaimed in mock astonishment.
"Did not yourself bid me to supper?"
"Yes. But I am weary of you and now I bid you go."
He laughed quietly.
"That is easily said, madame, but not so easily answered. I may
not----"
He was interrupted by a hurried knock at the outer door.
Barbara gave a slight scream and ran across the hall, but Captain
Protheroe was at the door before her.
"Pardon me, madame, I must see to this," he said sternly.
He flung the door wide, standing himself in its shadow, and Peter Drew,
the smith, rushed quickly into the hall.
"Ah, Mistress Barbara," he exclaimed breathlessly, not noticing her sign
to him to be cautious, "the villain hath escaaeped me, and I can't faind
no traaece of un anywhere."
"Very much my case, my friend," interrupted the captain, shutting the
door quickly, and confronting the astonished smith with a quiet smile.
"But what may be the name of this same escaped villain?"
Peter gasped at him stupidly.
"Come, fellow, out with it," cried the captain sharply.
The smith glanced at Barbara and shook his head.
"I don't know," he muttered sulkily.
Captain Protheroe turned to Barbara.
"May I--er--advise you, madame, to order this reluctant henchman of
yours to be more speedy in his replies."
"You may tell the captain all you know, Peter," she said after a
moment's hesitation. "Methinks 'twill not greatly enlighten him."