THE SEDAN-CHAIR
His Grace behaved generously, and at the same time with a prudence
which reveals the alert and calculating mind of this gifted man, who
might have been great had he been less of a voluptuary.
He attended with Holles before the Justices early on the morrow,
announcing himself able to confirm out of his own knowledge the truth
of the account which the Colonel gave of his relations with the
attainted Tucker. To that his grace added the assertion that he was
ready--if more were needed--to stand surety for the loyalty of this
suspected man whom he now pronounced his friend. More was not needed.
The sycophantic court bent the knee before this great gentleman who
enjoyed the close friendship of his King, and even professed regret
that certain reckless and malicious statements should have deceived it
into troubling the peace of Colonel Holles, and putting His Grace of
Buckingham to the present inconvenience. The Colonel’s antecedents,
which, without Buckingham’s protection, might have been the gravest
source of trouble, were not so much as touched upon.
There was in all this nothing in the least unreasonable. Had the
offence of which Colonel Holles was suspected been anything less than
treason, it is not to be supposed that the Duke would have been able to
carry matters with quite so high a hand. But it was utterly unthinkable
that His Grace of Buckingham, whose loyalty stood so high, whose whole
life bore witness to his deep attachment to the House of Stuart, and
who was notoriously one of His Majesty’s closest and most intimate
companions, should offer to stand surety for a man against whom the
merest suspicion of disloyalty would be justified.
Thus at the outset was Holles delivered from his worst peril. Next he
was informed that, since service of any distinction in England was
almost out of the question for his father’s son, Buckingham would
supply him with letters to several high-placed friends of his own
in France, where a capable soldier well recommended need never lack
employment. If Colonel Holles made the most of the opportunity thus
afforded him, his future should be assured and his days of adversity at
an end. This Holles clearly perceived for himself, and the reflection
served to stifle any lingering qualms of conscience over the unworthy
nature of the immediate service to which he was committed and to assure
him that he would, indeed, have been a fool had he permitted any
mawkish sentimentality to deprive him of this the greatest opportunity
of all his life.
In this resolve to send Holles out of England the moment the service
required of him should be accomplished, Buckingham again reveals his
astuteness. Further, he reveals it in the fact that to assist the
Colonel he placed at his disposal four of the French lackeys in his
pay. It was his intention to repatriate them, packing them off to
France together with Holles, as soon as the thing were done.
Thus, in the event of any trouble afterwards with the law, he would
have removed the only possible witnesses. The unsupported word of Miss
Farquharson--even in the extreme, and in his grace’s view unlikely,
event of her not accepting the situation--would be the only thing
against him; and in that case he did not think that he need gravely
apprehend the accusations of an actress, which he would have no great
difficulty in answering.
From attendance before the Justices, Colonel Holles repaired straight
to Fenchurch Street to conclude arrangements with the owner of the
house in Knight Ryder Street. Of this he now acquired the tenancy in
his own name for the term of one year. The merchant did not trouble to
conceal the fact that he regarded Colonel Holles as crazy to desire
to take up his residence in an infected city from which all who were
able were making haste to remove themselves. Had the Colonel needed a
reminder of it, he had it in the fact that he was constrained to go on
foot, not only because hackney-coaches were now rare, but because the
use of them was considered highly imprudent, since so many had been
used by infected persons. Doors smeared with the red cross and guarded
by watchmen were becoming commonplaces, and the comparatively few
people met in the streets who still sought to maintain the normal tenor
and business of their lives moved with the listlessness of despondency
or else with the watchfulness of hunted creatures. The pungent smell of
electuaries, and particularly of camphor, was wafted to the Colonel’s
nostrils from the person of almost every man he met.
He may have thought again that--as he had already admirably expressed
it--Buckingham was led by his passion like a blind man by his dog, to
come thrusting himself at such a time into the City, and he may have
taken satisfaction in the thought that he, himself, so soon as this
business should be accomplished, was to shake the poisonous dust of
London from his feet.
Matters concluded with the merchant, the Colonel went to take
possession of the house, and he installed there two of the four French
lackeys the Duke had lent him for myrmidons.
After that there was little to do but wait until Saturday, since, for
reasons which the Duke had given him, the attempt should not be made
before. That evening, however, and the next, the Colonel repaired
to Lincoln’s Inn to watch from a safe distance Miss Farquharson’s
departure from the theatre, and so inform himself precisely of her
habits in the matter. On both occasions she came forth at the same
time--a few minutes after seven, and entered her waiting sedan-chair,
in which she was borne away.
On Friday evening Holles went again, at six o’clock, and he had been
waiting half an hour before the chair that was to convey her home made
its appearance. It was the same chair as before and borne by the same
men.
Holles lounged forward to engage them in talk. Of set purpose and
despite the warm weather, he had donned a well-worn leather jerkin
to cover and conceal his fairly presentable coat. He had removed
the feather from his hat, and all minor ornaments, replacing his
embroidered baldric by one of plain leather. A pair of old boots
completed the studied shabbiness of his appearance, and gave him the
air of a down-at-heel ruffler, ready to make a friend of any man.
He slouched towards the chairmen, pulling at a clay pipe, a man with
time on his hands. And they, sitting on the shafts of the chair--one on
each side, so as to balance each other--were nothing loath to have the
tedium of their waiting beguiled by the thrasonical garrulousness his
appearance led them to expect.
He did not disappoint them. He talked of the pestilence and of the war,
and of the favouritism practised at Court, which bestowed commands
upon all manner of incompetent fops and kept a hardened and stout
old soldier like himself cooling his heels in London’s plague-ridden
streets. In this last respect he made them find him ridiculous, so that
they rallied and covertly mocked him and hugely enjoyed themselves at
his expense, to all of which it appeared to them that his monstrous
ruffler’s vanity made him blind. Finally he invited them to come and
drink with him, and they were nothing reluctant to permit him thus to
add physical to the mental entertainment he had already afforded them.
In their spirit of raillery, and to involve this foolish fellow in
the utmost expense, they would have conducted him to The Grange. But
the foolish fellow had more reasons than one for preferring an obscure
little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row, and it was thither that
he now conducted his newly made friends and guests.
When at last they parted, the chairmen compelled to it by the necessity
to be back at their post by seven o’clock, it was with voluble
protestations of friendship on the part of Holles. He must come and see
them soon again, he vowed. They were fellows after his own heart, he
assured them. Eagerly they returned the compliment, and, as they made
their way back to the theatre, they laughed not a little over the empty
vanity of that silly pigeon, and their own wit and cleverness in having
fooled him to the top of his ridiculous bent.
It might have given their hilarity pause could they have seen the
grimly cunning smile that curled the lips of that same silly pigeon as
he trudged away from the scene of their blithe encounter.
On the following evening--which was that of Saturday--you behold
him there again, at about the same hour, joyously hailed by Miss
Farquharson’s chairmen in a manner impudently blending greeting with
derision.
“Good-evening, Sir John,” cried one, and, “Good-evening, my lord,” the
other.
The Colonel, whose swaggering carriage was suggestive of a mild
intoxication, planted his feet wide, and regarded the twain owlishly.
“I am not Sir John, and I am not my lord,” he reproved them, whereupon
they laughed. “Though, mark you,” he added, more ponderously, “mark
you, I might be both if I had my dues. There’s many a Whitehall pimp is
my lord with less claim to the dignity than I have. Aye, a deal less.”
“Any fool can see that to look at you,” said Jake.
“Aye--any fool,” said Nathaniel, sardonic and ambiguous.
The Colonel evidently chose the meaning that was flattering to himself.
“You’re good fellows,” he commended them. “Very good fellows.” And
abruptly he added: “What should you say, now, to a cup of sack?”
Their eyes gleamed. Had it been ale they would have assented gladly
enough. But sack! That was a nobleman’s drink that did not often come
their lowly way. They looked at each other.
“Eh, Jake?” questioned one.
“A skew o’ bouze’ll never hurt, Nat,” said the other.
“That it won’t,” Nat agreed. “And there’s time to spare this evening.
Her ladyship’ll be packing a while.”
They took the Colonel between them, and with arms linked the three set
a course for the little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row. The
Colonel was more garrulous than ever, and very confidential. He had met
a friend, he insisted upon informing them--an old brother-in-arms who
had come upon fortunate days, from whom he had succeeded in borrowing
a good round sum. Extending his confidence, he told them that probably
it would be many days before he would be perfectly sober again. To this
he added renewed assurances that he found them both very good fellows,
lively companions these plaguy days, when the Town was as dull as a
nunnery, and he swore that he would not be separated from them without
a struggle.
Into the alehouse they rolled, to be skilfully piloted by the Colonel
into a quiet corner well away from the windows and the light. He called
noisily, tipsily, for the landlady, banging the table with the hilt of
his sword. And when she made her appearance, he silenced her protests
by his order.
“Three pints of Canary stiffly laced with brandy.”
As she departed, he pulled up a three-legged stool, and sat down facing
the chairmen, who were licking their chops in anticipatory delight.
“’S norrevery day we meet a brother-in-arms whose norronly fortunate,
but willing ... share ’sfortune. The wine, madam! And of your best.”
“Well said, old dog of war!” Nat approved him, whereupon the twain
abandoned themselves to uproarious laughter.
The wine was brought, and the facetious pair swilled it greedily,
whereafter they praised it, with rolling of eyes and resounding
lip-smackings; they even subdued their raillery of the provider of this
nectar. When he proposed a second pint, they actually grew solemn; and
when after that he called for a third, they were almost prepared to
treat him with respect.
There was a vacuousness in the eyes with which he pondered them,
swaying never so slightly on his three-legged stool.
“Why ... you stare at me like tha’?” he challenged them.
They looked up from the replenished but as yet untasted measures. His
manner became suddenly stern. “P’raps you think I haven’t ... money ...
pay for all this swill?”
An awful dread assailed them both. He seemed to read it in their
glances.
“Why, you rogues, d’ye dare ... doubt ... gen’l’man? D’ye think
gen’l’man calls for wine, and can’t pay? Here’s to put your lousy minds
at rest.”
Violently he pulled a hand from his pocket, and violently he flung it
forward under their noses, opening it as he did so. Gold leapt from it,
a half-dozen pieces that rolled and rang upon greasy table and greasier
floor.
In a flash, instinctively, the pair dived after them, and grovelled
there on hands and knees about the table’s legs, hunting the scattered
coins. When at length they came up again, each obsequiously placed two
pieces before the Colonel.
“Your honour should be more careful handling gold,” said Jake.
“Ye might ha’ lost a piece or two,” added Nat.
“In some companies I might,” said the Colonel, looking very wise. “But
I know hones’ fellows; I know how to choose my friends. Trust a cap’n
o’ fortune for that.” He picked up the coins with clumsy, blundering
fingers. “I thank you,” he said, and restored them to his pocket.
Jake winked at Nat, and Nat hid his face in his tankard lest the grin
which he could not suppress should be perceived by the Colonel.
The pair were spending a very pleasant and profitable evening with this
stray and thirsty rodomont.
They drank noisily. And noisily and repeatedly Jake smacked his lips
thereafter, frowning a little as he savoured the draught.
“I don’t think it’s as good as the last,” he complained.
The Colonel picked up his own tankard with solicitude and took a pull
at it.
“I have drunk better,” he boasted. “But ’sgood enough, and just the
same as last. Just the same.”
“May be my fancy,” said Jake, at which his companion nodded.
Then the Colonel fell to talking volubly, boastfully.
The landlady, who began to mislike their looks, drew near. The Colonel
beckoned her nearer still, and thrust a piece of gold into her hand.
“Let that pay the reckoning,” said he, very magnificent.
She gaped at such prodigality, dropped him a curtsy, and withdrew again
at once, reflecting that appearances can be very deceptive.
The Colonel resumed his talk. Whether from the soporific dreariness of
this or from the potency of the libations, Jake’s eyelids were growing
so heavy that he appeared to have a difficulty in keeping them from
closing, whilst Nat was hardly in better case. Presently, surrendering
to the luxurious torpor that pervaded him, Jake folded his arms upon
the table, and laid his sleepy head upon them.
At this, his fellow took alarm, and leaned across in an attempt to
rouse him.
“Hi! Jake! We gotter carry ... ladyship home.”
“Dammer ladyship,” grunted Jake in the very act of falling asleep.
With dazed eyes Nat looked helplessly at the Colonel and shaped his
lips to utterance by a visible effort.
“Too much ... drink,” he said thickly. “Not used ... wine.”
He made a feeble attempt to rise, failed, and then suddenly resigned
himself. Like Jake, who was already snoring, he made on the table a
pillow of his arms, and lowered his head to it.
In a moment both the chairmen were soundly asleep.
Colonel Holles softly pushed back his stool, and rose. A moment he
stood considering whether he should recover the two or three gold
pieces which he was perfectly aware the rogues had filched from him.
In the end he concluded that this would be an unnecessary additional
cruelty.
He lurched out of the corner, and the hostess hearing him move came
forward. He took her by the arm with one hand, whilst with the other,
to her amazement, he pressed a second gold piece into her palm. He
closed one eye solemnly, and pointed to the sleeping twain.
“Very good fellows ... friends o’ mine,” he informed her. “Very drunk.
Not used ... wine. Lerrem sleep in peace.”
She smirked, clutching that second precious piece. “Indeed, your
honour, they may sleep and welcome. Ye’ve paid for their lodgings.”
Holles considered her critically. “Goo’ woman. Ye’re a goo’ woman.”
He considered her further. “Handsome woman! Lerrem sleep in peace.
Gobbless you.”
She thought a kiss was coming. But he disappointed her. He loosed
her arm, reeled away a little, swung round, and lurched out of the
place and off down the street. Having gone some little way, he halted
unsteadily and looked back. He was not observed. Having assured himself
of this, he resumed his way, and it is noteworthy that he no longer
staggered. His step was now brisk and certain. He flung something from
him as he went, and there was a faint tinkle of shivering glass. It was
the phial that had contained the powerful narcotic which he had added
to his guests’ wine whilst they were grovelling for the money he had
spilled.
“Animals!” he said contemptuously, and upon that dismissed them from
his mind.
The hour of seven was striking from St. Clement’s Danes as he passed
the back door of the playhouse and the untended chair that waited there
for Miss Farquharson. Farther down the narrow street a couple of men
were lounging who at a little distance might have been mistaken for
the very chairmen he had left slumbering in the alehouse. Their plain
liveries at least were very similar, and they were covered with broad
round hats identical with those of Miss Farquharson’s bearers, worn at
an angle that left their faces scarcely visible.
Sauntering casually, Colonel Holles came up with them. The street
thereabouts was practically untenanted.
“Is all well?” he asked them.
“The people have quitted the theatre some ten minutes since,” one of
them answered him in indifferent English.
“To your places, then. You know your tale if there are any questions.”
They nodded, and lounged along, eventually to lean against the theatre
wall in the neighbourhood of the chair, obviously its bearers. The tale
they were to tell at need was that Jake had been taken ill; it was
feared that he was seized with the plague. Nat, who was remaining with
him, had begged these two to take their places with the chair.
Holles took cover in a doorway, whence he could watch the scene of
action, and there disposed himself to wait. The vigil proved a long
one. As Jake had remarked to his companion, Miss Farquharson was likely
to be late in leaving. On this the final evening at the Duke’s Theatre
she would have packing to do, and there would perhaps be protracted
farewells among the players. Of the latter several had already
emerged from that little doorway and had departed on foot. Still Miss
Farquharson did not come, and already the evening shadows began to
deepen in the street.
If Colonel Holles was exercised by a certain impatience on the one
hand, on the other he was comforted by the reflection that there was
gain to his enterprise in delay. The thing he had to do would be better
accomplished in the dusk; best, indeed, in the dark. So he waited, and
Buckingham’s two French lackeys, disguised as chairmen, waited also.
They had the advantage of knowing Miss Farquharson by sight, having
twice seen her at close quarters, once on the occasion of her visit to
Wallingford House and again on the day of her mock-rescue in Paul’s
Yard.
At last, at a little after half-past eight, when already objects
were become indistinctly visible at a little distance, she made her
appearance in the doorway. She came accompanied by Mr. Betterton,
and was followed by the theatre doorkeeper. She paused to deliver to
the latter certain instructions in the matter of her packages, then
Mr. Betterton escorted her gallantly to her chair. The chairmen were
already at their places to which they had sprung immediately upon her
coming forth. One, standing behind the chair, by raising its hinged
roof made of this a screen for himself. The other, by the foreshafts
endeavoured to find cover beside the body of the chair itself.
Gathering her hooded cloak about her, she stepped into the sedan.
Betterton bowed low over her hand in valediction. As he stood back,
the chairman in front closed the apron, whilst the one behind lowered
the roof. Then, taking their places between the shafts, they raised
the chair and began to move away with it. From within Miss Farquharson
waved a delicate hand to Mr. Betterton, who stood bowing, bareheaded.