The first person that entered the room after the lady quitted it was
Monsieur Plessis himself, who, with a light in his hand, came quickly
on before the rest, and gave a rapid glance round, as if to insure
that no little articles belonging to its last tenant remained
scattered about, to betray the fact of her dwelling in his house.
He was followed soon after by a tall, thin, gloomy-looking personage,
dressed in dark clothing, and somewhat heavily armed, for a period of
internal peace. His complexion was saturnine, his features sharp and
angular, his eyes keen and sunk deep under the overhanging brows; and
across one cheek, not far below the eye, was a deep gash, which drew
down the inner corners of the eyelid, and gave a still more sinister
expression to the countenance than it originally possessed. He was
followed by two others, both of whom were much younger men than
himself. One was gaily dressed, and had a fat and somewhat heavy
countenance, which indeed seemed unmeaning, till suddenly a quick
fierce glance of the eye and a movement of the large massy lower jaw,
like that which is seen in the jaws of a dog eager to bite, showed
that under that dull exterior there were passions strong and quick,
and a spirit not so slow and heavy as a casual observer might
imagine.
Besides these, there were one or two other persons whose dress
denoted them of some rank and station in society, though those who
had seen them in other circumstances might now have remarked that
various devices had been employed to disguise their persons in some
degree.
One of these, however, has been before introduced to the reader,
being no other than that Sir John Fenwick whom we have more than once
had occasion to mention. He was now no longer dressed with the
somewhat affected neatness and coxcombry which had marked his
appearance in London, but, on the contrary, was clad in garments
comparatively coarse, and bore the aspect of a military man no longer
in active service, and enduring some reverses. He also was heavily
armed, though many of the others there present bore apparently
nothing but the ordinary sword which was carried by every gentleman
in that day.
The first of the personages we have mentioned approached with a slow
step towards the fire, saying to Plessis as he advanced, "So the
Colonel has not come, I see?"
"No, Sir George," replied Plessis with a lowly inclination of the
head, "he has not arrived yet; but I had a messenger from him at noon
to-day, saying that he would be here to-night."
"Ha!" exclaimed Sir George Barkley, "that is more than I
expected--But he will not come, he will not come! Make us a bowl of
punch, good Plessis--make us a bowl of punch--the night is very
cold.--But he will not come, I feel very sure he will not come."
"I think I hear his horse's feet even now," replied Plessis--"at all
events, there is some one arrived."
"Keep him some minutes down below, good Plessis," exclaimed Sir
George Barkley hastily. "Run down and meet him. Make up some story,
and delay him as long as possible; for I have got something to
consult with these gentlemen upon before we see him."
Plessis hastened away; and as soon as the door was closed, Barkley
turned to the gaily dressed man we have mentioned, saying, "Charnock,
tell Sir John Friend and Captain Rookwood what we were saying as we
came along; and all that has happened in London."
The dull countenance of Charnock was lighted up in a moment by one of
those quick looks we have mentioned. "Listen, Parkyns, too," he
said, "for you have not heard the whole."
"Be quick, be quick, Charnock," said Sir George Barkley.
"Well, thus it is then, gentlemen," said Charnock--"matters do not
go so favourably as we could have wished. Sir John Fenwick, here,
the most active of us all, had got the Duke of Gaveston to join us
heartily, to concur in the rising, or, at all events, to hear all
that we propose, with a promise of perfect secrecy; but most
unfortunately, at the meeting at the Old King's Head, some one
unwisely suffered it to slip out that we were to have thirty thousand
French troops, forgetting that what is good to tell the lower classes
and those who are timid and fearful of not having means enough, does
not do to be told to the bold and high-minded, who are apt to be
foolishly confident. The Duke cried out at that, and vowed that if
his opinion were to have any weight, or if his co-operation was of
any import, not a foreign soldier should come into the land. This was
bad enough; but we might have smoothed that down, had not Lowick
chanced to hint the plan for getting rid of this Prince of Orange as
the first step. Thereupon both the Duke and the Earl of Aylesbury,
who were present, flew out like fire; and the Duke, vowing he would
hear no more, took up his hat and sword and walked away, in spite of
all that could be said. The Earl, for his part, stayed the business
out, saying, that he would have nothing to do with the affair, but
that he remained to show us that he would not betray anything."
"That is to say," exclaimed one of the others, "that the Duke will
betray all."
"Not exactly," said Sir John Fenwick, with a grim smile. "We have
taken care of that, and perhaps may compel the Duke to join us
whether he likes it or not, when once the matter's done. However, Sir
George and I have determined that it is absolutely necessary and
needful for us all to understand, that we, who take the deeper part
in the matter, must keep our own counsel better for the future. Of
course, we must still endeavour to enrol as many names as possible;
but to all ordinary supporters we must tell nothing more, than that
the general rising is to take place, and that we have the most
perfect certainty of success by means which we cannot divulge."
"You will remark, gentlemen," said Sir George Barkley, "that the
assistance of the French troops is to be mentioned to no one at all,
without the general consent of the persons here present."
"And the execution, or putting to death, or call it what you will, of
the Prince of Orange," added Charnock, "is to be told to nobody on
any account whatever. We have quite sufficient hands to do it
ourselves without any more help; and if you and your men will take
care of the guards, I will undertake the pistoling work with my own
hand."
"But the Colonel," said one of the others, "you forgot to mention
about the Colonel, Charnock."
"Why, that is the worst spot in the whole business," said Sir George
Barkley. "No one expected his stomach to be queasy; but by heavens
he's worse than either the Duke or the Earl. He did not so much seem
to dislike the idea of foreign troops--though that did not please
him--but one would have thought him a madman to hear how he talked
about that very necessary first step, the getting rid of the usurper.
He said, not only that he would have nothing to do with it, but that
it should not be done; and he used very high and threatening language
even towards me--at present his Majesty's representative. He used
words most injurious to us all, and which I would have resented to
the death if it had not been for consideration of the high cause in
which we are all here engaged."
"What did he say? What did he say?" demanded two or three voices.
"In the first instance," answered Sir George Barkley, "he would not
come to the last meeting at the King's Head; and his first question,
when I went to seek him, was, whether the King knew of what we were
about to do? I said, certainly not; that I had a general commission,
which was quite enough, and that we had not told the King of an act
which was very necessary, but might not be pleasant for him to hear.
With that he tossed up his head and laughed, in his way, saying that
he thought so; and that the King did not know what bloody-minded
villains he had got in his service.--Bloody minded villains was the
word.--It is rather impudent, too, and somewhat strange, that he, of
all men, should talk thus--he who, for many a year now, has lived by
taking toll upon the King's Highway."
"Ay; but I insist say, Sir George," replied one of the others, "he
has always been very particular. I, who have been with him now these
many years, can answer for it, that in all that time he has never
taken a gold piece from any one but the King's enemies, nor I either:
and he vows that the King's commission which he still has, justifies
him in stripping them."
"Ay, so it does," replied Sir George Barkley, "and the King's
commission, too, justifies us in killing them. This gentleman only
makes nice distinctions when it suits him. However, we are taking
means to get all his people away from him. Byerly won't be such a
stickler, no doubt, and five or six of the others we can bribe."
"Ay, but will he not betray us," said Sir William Parkyns.
"I think not," said Sir George Barkley; and unwittingly he paid the
person he spoke of the highest compliment in his power, saying, "I
rather fancy the same sort of humour that prevents him from going on
in the business with us will keep him from betraying what he knows.
But we shall soon see that; and now having said all we have to say,
you had better go down, Fenwick, and see if he be come or not."
During the time that this conversation had been going on, there had
been various sounds of different descriptions in the house; and when
Sir John Fenwick rose and opened the door to seek the person last
spoken of, he was met face to face by Monsieur Plessis, and a
maid-servant, carrying an immense bowl of punch, at that time the
favourite beverage of a great part of the English nation.
"Was that the Colonel?" demanded Fenwick, as soon as he beheld
Plessis.
"Yes," replied the Frenchman; "but he is busy about his horses and
things, and said he would be up immediately."
"Has he got anybody with him?" demanded Sir John Fenwick in a low
voice, for Plessis had left the door partly open behind him.
"Only two," rejoined the other.
"Put down the punch, Plessis," said Sir George Barkley--"run down
and see if you cannot stop the others from coming up with him."
Before Plessis could do as he was bid, however, the door was flung
farther open, and our old acquaintance Green entered the room alone.
He was dressed as upon the first occasion of his meeting with Wilton
Brown, except that he had a sort of cloak cast over his other
garments, and a much heavier sword by his side. Plessis, who did not
seem very much to like the aspect of affairs, made his exit with all
speed, and closed the door; and Green, with a firm step and a
somewhat frowning brow, advanced to the table, saying, "I give you
good evening, gentlemen."
Sir John Fenwick, who was nearest to him, held out his hand as to an
old friend; but Green thrust his hands behind his back, and made him
a low bow, saying, "I must do nothing, Sir John, that may make you
believe me your comrade when I am not."
"Nay, nay, Colonel," said Sir John Fenwick, still holding out his
hand to him, "at least as your friend of twenty years' standing."
"That as you please, sir," replied Green, giving him his hand coldly.
"We have requested your presence here, Colonel," said Charnock, "to
speak over various matters--"
"Mr. Charnock," interrupted Green, "I have nothing to do with you. It
is with this gentleman I wish to have a word or two more than we
could have the other afternoon," and he walked directly up to Sir
George Barkley.
"Well, sir, what is it that you want with me?" said Sir George. "I
hope you have thought better of what you said that night."
"Thought, sir," answered Green, "has only served to confirm
everything that I then felt. In the first place, Sir George Barkley,
you have dealt with me in this business uncandidly; and if I had not
had better information than that which you gave me, pretending to be
a friend, I should have been smuggled into a transaction which I
abhor and detest."
"How mean you, sir? How mean you? I was perfectly candid with you,"
said Sir George Barkley.
"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed Green, laughing scornfully. "Perfectly
candid! Yes, when you could not be otherwise. You told me, sir, that
you wanted my assistance with ten men well armed for a service of
great honour and danger; but until I put the question straightforward
to you--having already obtained a knowledge of your proceedings--you
did not tell me that the service you required was the cold-blooded
murder of William, wrongly called King of England."
"That, sir, was to be explained to you afterwards," said Sir George
Barkley.
"Afterwards!" exclaimed Green: "ay, sir, how soon afterwards? After
the deed was done, ha? or after I was so far committed that I could
not retract? And let me ask you, why it was that I was not to be
informed till afterwards, when every other person here present knew
it long before--I, who remained by the bloody waters of the Boyne
when you acted as the King's running footman, and heralded him back
to France? Nay, nay, you shall hear me out, sir, now. I believe not
that you would ever have told me, had it not been that this
intercepted letter fell into my hands, and informed me of all your
proceedings, when you thought I knew them not."
And as he spoke he held the letter out before him, and struck his
hand fiercely upon the paper.
The others looked round, each in his neighbour's face, with a
doubtful, and disconcerted look, and Green went on before any one
could answer.
"Why was all this, Sir George Barkley?" he said. "Why was this
concealment? I will tell you why: because you dared not for your life
propose such a thing to me, till you thought I was so far committed
that I could not escape you; and if I had not asked you myself the
question, I should never have heard the truth till this day."
Dark and darker shades of passion had come over the countenance of
Sir George Barkley while Green had been speaking; and he, Charnock,
and one of the others, during the latter part of their new
companion's somewhat vituperative address, had been exchanging looks
very significant and menacing. At length, however, Sir George Barkley
exclaimed, "Come, come, Colonel--this language is too much. You have
been asking questions and answering them yourself. We have now one
or two to ask you, and we hope you will answer them as much to our
satisfaction as you have answered the others to your own."
"What are your questions, sir?" demanded Green, fixing his eye upon
him sternly. "Let me hear them, and if it suits me I will reply; if
not, you must do without an answer."
"To one question, at least," replied Sir George Barkley, "to one
question, at least, we must compel an answer!"
"Compel!" exclaimed Green, "compel!" and he took a step back towards
the door.
"Look to the door, Fenwick!" exclaimed Sir George Barkley. "Parkyns,
help Sir John! I should be sorry to take severe measures with you,
Colonel; but before you stir a step from this room you must pledge
yourself by all you hold sacred that you will not betray us."
Green heard him to an end without any further movement than the step
back which he had taken, and which placed him in such a position that
he could front either Barkley and the rest on the one side, or those
who were at the door upon the other, without the possibility of any
one coming upon him from behind without being seen. The moment the
other had done, however, he shook back the cloak from his shoulders,
and took from the broad horseman's girdle which girt him round the
middle, a pistol, the barrel of which was fully eighteen inches long,
while its counterpart appeared on the other side of the belt, in
which also were two more weapons of the same kind, but of less
dimensions. He leaned the muzzle calmly upon his hand for a moment,
and looking tranquilly in the face of Sir John Fenwick he said, in a
quiet tone, "Sir John Fenwick, you are in my way. You will do wisely
to retire from the door, and take your friend with you."
"Rush upon him!" cried a man named Cranburne; and as he spoke he
sprang forward himself, while Sir George Barkley and the rest came
somewhat more slowly after. The pistol was in a moment transferred
to Green's left hand, and with a back-handed blow of the right, which
seemed in fact but a mere touch, Cranburne was laid prostrate on the
ground, with his whole face and neck swimming in blood from his mouth
and nose. In his fall he nearly knocked down Sir George Barkley, who
took it as a signal for retreat towards the fire-place, and at the
same moment Green, who had not moved a step from the spot where he
stood, repeated in a louder voice, "You are in my way, Sir John
Fenwick! Move from the door!" and at the same instant, in the
silence which had followed the overthrow of Cranburne, the ringing
sound occasioned by a pistol being suddenly cocked made itself
distinctly heard.
"Move, move, Sir John Fenwick!" cried one of the others, a Captain
Porter--"this is all very silly: we risk a great deal more by making
a fracas here, than in trusting to the honour of a gentleman, such as
the Colonel."
Sir John Fenwick did not require two recommendations to follow this
suggestion, but he and Parkyns drew back simultaneously, leaving the
way free for Green to go out. He advanced, in consequence, as if to
take advantage of this movement; but before he quitted the room, he
turned and fronted the party assembled.
"Sir George Barkley," he said, looking at him with a scornful smile,
"you are, all of you, afraid of my telling what I know; but now that
the way is clear, I will so far relieve you as to say, that nothing
which any of you have told me shall ever pass my lips again. The
knowledge that I have gained or may gain by other means is my own
property, with which I shall do as I like; but there are one or two
pieces of information which I carry under my doublet, and which you
may not be sorry to hear. As for you. Sir George Barkley, the secret
I have to reveal to you is, that you are a white-livered coward. This
I shall tell to nobody but yourself--Ha, ha, ha!--because your
friends know it already, and to your enemies you will never do any
harm. Fenwick, you are just sufficient of a fool to get yourself into
a scrape, and sufficient of a knave to drag your friends in too, in
the hopes of getting out yourself. Sir William Parkyns and Sir John
Friend, knights and gentlemen of good repute, with full purses and
with empty heads, you are paving a golden road to the gallows.
Charnock, you are a butcher; but depend upon it, you were not made to
slaughter any better beast than a bullock. The rest of you,
gentlemen, good night. As for you, Porter, I wish you were out of
this business. You are too honest a man to be in it; but take care
that you do not make a knave of yourself in trying to shake yourself
free from a cloak that you should never have put on."
It may easily be conceived that this speech was not particularly
palatable to any of the parties present. But Sir George Barkley was
the only one who answered, and he only did it by a sneer.
"Oh! we know very well," he said, "my good Colonel, that you can turn
your coat as well as any man. We have heard of certain visits to
Kensington, and interviews with the usurper; and, doubtless, we shall
soon see a long list of our names furnished by you, and stuck up
against Whitehall."
"He who insinuates a falsehood, sir," replied Green, turning sharply
upon him, "is worse than he who tells a lie, for a lie is a bolder
sort of cowardice than a covered falsehood. I have never been but
once to Kensington in my life, and that was to see Bentinck, Lord
Portland--whom I did not see. William of Nassau I have never spoken
to in my life, and never seen, that I know of, except once through a
pocket-glass, upon the banks of the Boyne. All that you have said,
sir, you know to be false; and as to my giving a list of your names,
that you know to be false also. What I may do to prevent evil actions
I do not know, and shall hold it over your heads. But of one thing
you may be quite sure, that no man's name would ever be compromised
by me, however much he may deserve it."
Thus saying, he turned upon his heel and quitted the room, still
holding the pistol in his hand. After closing the door, he paused for
an instant and meditated, then thrust the pistol back into his belt,
and walked along one of the many passages of the house, with the
intricacies of which he seemed perfectly well acquainted.
The scene of dismay and confusion, however, which he left behind is
almost indescribable. Every person talked at once, some addressing
the general number, not one of whom was attending; some speaking
vehemently to another individual, who in turn was speaking as
vehemently to some one else. The great majority of those present,
however, seemed perfectly convinced that their late companion would
betray them, or, at all events, take such measures for frustrating
their schemes, as to render it perilous in the extreme to proceed in
them. Sir John Friend was for giving it all up at once, and Parkyns
seemed much of the same opinion. Rookwood, Fenwick, and others
hesitated, but evidently leaned to the safer course.
Sir George Barkley and Charnock were the only persons who, on the
contrary, maintained the necessity and the propriety of abandoning
none of their intentions. To this, indeed, after great efforts, they
brought back the judgment of the rest; but it required all their
skill and art to accomplish that object. In regard to the general
question of proceeding, they urged, at first, that they might as well
go on, though cautiously, inasmuch as they were all committed to such
a degree, that they could not be more so, let them do what they
would. They were already amenable to the law of high treason, which
was sure not to be mitigated towards them, and therefore they had
nothing farther to fear but discovery. This having been conceded,
and fear beginning to wear away, after a little consideration, it was
easily shown to some of those present who proposed to abandon the
idea of calling in foreign troops, in the hope of bringing back the
Duke and the Earl of Aylesbury, with others, to their party, that
their great hope of security lay in the actual presence of those
foreign troops, who would, at all events, enable them to effect their
escape, even if they did not insure them success in their design. The
assassination was the next thing touched upon: but here Sir George
Barkley argued, that what had occurred should only be considered as a
motive for urging on their proceedings with the utmost rapidity.
"Let us leave it to be understood," he said, "by the great multitude
of King James's loyal subjects, that the matter of aid from France is
a thing yet to be considered of. In regard to the death of the
usurper, whatever it may be necessary to say to others, none of us
here present can doubt that it is absolutely necessary to our
success. The whole of the information possessed by the man who has
just left us is evidently gained from a letter which I wrote to Sir
John Hubbard in the north, which has somehow unfortunately fallen
into his hands. In that letter, however, I stated that the usurper's
life would come to an end in April next, as we at first proposed. If
the man have any design of betraying us--"
"No, no, he will not betray us," said several voices; "he has
pledged himself not to disclose our names; and when his word is once
given, it is sure."
"But," said Sir John Fenwick, "he straight-forwardly said that he
would frustrate our scheme, and in so doing, it is a thousand chances
to one that he causes the whole to be discovered."
"Then the way," exclaimed Sir George Barkley, "the only way is to
proceed in the business at once. This letter to Hubbard is what he
goes upon; he has no suspicion of our being ready to accomplish the
thing at once. Let us then take him by surprise; and while he is
waiting to see what April will produce, let us, I say, within this
very week, execute boldly that which we have boldly undertaken. We
can easily have sharp spies kept constantly watching this good friend
of ours in the green doublet, who seems to fancy himself a
second-hand sort of Robin Hood. Half of his people are mine already,
and the other half will be so soon. Let the thing be done before the
year be a week older; and let us to-morrow night meet at Mrs.
Mountjoy's in St. James's-street, and send over to hurry the
preparations in France. Gentlemen, it is time for action. Here
several months have slipped by, and nothing is done. It is high time
to do something, lest men should say we promised much and performed
little."
Gradually all those who were present came round to the opinion of Sir
George Barkley, and everything was arranged as he had proposed it.
Some farther time was then spent in desultory conversation; and it
seemed as if every one lingered, under the idea that they were all to
go away together. Sir George Barkley, however, and Fenwick, seemed
somewhat uneasy, and whispered together for a moment or two; and at
length the latter said, "It may be better, gentlemen, for us to go
away by two or three at a time. You, Parkyns, with Sir John Friend,
had better take along the upper road; three others can take the low
road by the waterside; and Sir George with Charnock and myself will
wait here till you are safely on your way."
This proposal was instantly agreed to; but still some of the
gentlemen lingered, evidently to the discomposure of Sir George
Barkley, who at length gave them another hint that it was time to
depart.
"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, as soon as they were all gone, "I thought
they would have hung drivelling on here till the boat came down. The
tide served at ten o'clock, and before one they must be off the end
of the garden. How far is it from Erith?"
"Oh, certainly not four hours' sail," answered Charnock. "But had I
not better now write the letter we talked of to the Duke? I can
conceal my own hand well enough, and then if Fenwick is asked
anything about it, he can swear most positively that it is not his
writing."
"Oh! I care nothing about it," replied Fenwick. "The foolish old man
cannot betray me without betraying himself; and you will see he will
soon come round. In the meantime, however, I will go down and talk to
old Plessis about the ship. I should think it could be got ready two
days sooner easily; and as this that we have in view is a great
object, we must not mind paying a few pounds for speed."
Thus saying, he left the room; and Charnock, taking paper out of a
drawer, proceeded to write a letter according to the suggestions of
Sir George Barkley. Presently after, there was a sound of several
voices speaking, which apparently proceeded from some persons
approaching the front of the house. Both Sir George Barkley and
Charnock started up, the first exclaiming, "Hark! there they are!"
"Yes," exclaimed Charnock, "there's a woman's voice, sure enough! Why
the devil don't they stop her talking so loud?"
"You write out the letter, Charnock," said Sir George. "I must go
down and see that all is right."
Charnock nodded his head, and the other left the room.