Dale was in his office, very busy with some writing, when Lyttleton
looked in.
"Excuse the interruption, Mr. Dale," he said, holding out his hand,
"but I did not like to go without saying good-bye to you and the
doctor. He, however, I find is not in."
"Good-bye! you're not going to leave Chillicothe to-night, are you?"
cried Godfrey in surprise, as he laid down his pen and took the
offered hand.
"Yes; immediately, Hans has everything packed, and the horses saddled
and at the door. Had a letter from home to-night, and find I must
tarry no longer. Please give my respects and adieus to the doctor,"
he added, as he hurried away.
"I wonder he's not afraid to risk travelling with only that rascally
looking servant, who might rob and kill him and nobody any the
wiser," thought Dale. "Well," he remarked aloud, resuming his pen, "I
suppose it's no affair of mine."
Was it a haunting doubt of Hans's fidelity or some other motive that
led Lyttleton to turn to him, as they left the town, and bid him ride
by his side instead of behind him?
However that may have been, he kept a sharp watch upon his valet's
movements.
Presently he took him into his confidence in some degree, partially
unfolding a plot to get Clendenin into his power, and securing the
Hessian's co-operation by the promise of a bribe.
They pressed forward all that night and the next day, pausing only
for a short rest when their horses showed signs of exhaustion.
The greater part of the way was very lonely; they had met no one
since early morning, when toward the close of the day they overtook a
man mounted on a sorry nag and jogging along in silence and solitude;
a villainous looking fellow, in whom Lyttleton at once recognized one
of his intended tools; whose acquaintance he had made on the outward
bound journey of some months ago, and whom he had casually discovered
to be an enemy to Dr. Clendenin.
It was in fact Brannon, who had never forgotten or forgiven the part
Kenneth had had in his conviction of the theft of the great-coat,
handkerchief, and shirt, abstracted from the dwelling of the Barbours.
Lyttleton hailed him with, "Hello, Brannon, you're the very man I was
wanting to see."
"And who may you be?" returned the fellow surlily, showing a scowling
face as he glanced back over his shoulder at the speaker; then
suddenly wheeling his horse across the narrow path so as to bar their
further progress, "What do you want with me?" he demanded in a tone
of one who feels himself at enmity with his kind.
"To furnish you with a bit of employment very much to your taste,"
answered Lyttleton.
"And what may that be? Ha, I remember you now, the English gent that
was a goin' out to Chillicothe some months back, and had so many
questions to ask about Dr. Clendenin. Curse him! Well, did ye find it
all out?"
"It?"
"Yes, it, whatever you wanted to know."
"Yes; I found out, what I suspected before, that he is very much in
my way: and--but before I lay my plans open to you I must have your
promise, your oath of secrecy."
"Them's easy given," the fellow answered with an unpleasant laugh;
"I promise and swear never to tell no tales consarnin' what you're
agoin' to say."
"Very well. Clendenin is travelling in this direction, with no
companion but a young negro servant who, I take it, is neither very
brave nor strong."
A malicious gleam of satisfaction shone in Brannon's eyes.
Lyttleton noted it with pleasure.
"We could not have a better opportunity," he went on; "you who have
an old score against him, and I who find him as I just said entirely
too much in my way."
"What are you at, mister, out with it plump and plain," Brannon said
with an impatient gesture and a volley of oaths, as Lyttleton came to
a pause and looked hesitatingly at him. "I ain't no fancy for this
'ere beating about the bush. Is it his life you want, or not?"
"No, no; I'm no murderer!" Lyttleton exclaimed with a shudder and
a fearful glance from side to side. "But patience, man, and I'll
explain in a few words. We'll call this doctor a mad fellow, perhaps
it isn't so very far from the truth, ha, ha, and we'll take him
prisoner, and keep him such somewhere in these woods until I can make
arrangements to remove him to a mad house."
Brannon listened with a grim smile.
"But look ye here, stranger," he interrupted, "what if he should get
free and peach on us?"
"We must take care that he doesn't; and I'll make it worth your while
to take the risk. Can you get help in capturing him?"
Brannon nodded. "Here comes one now that'll bear a hand willingly if
you give him his price;" and as he spoke he waved his hand toward a
tall, burly figure just emerging from the wood a few paces from them.
"Dree of us," muttered Hans, watching its approach; "dat ish pooty
goot; and mynheer, too; dree, four against two. We takes dem brisoner
mitout fail."
The last comer was drawing near with long and rapid strides.
"What's that?" he asked sharply and bringing his rifle to his
shoulder. "Ah, is it you, Jack! what's up?"
"Yes, it's me, Bill Shark," answered Brannon. "Come on; here's a gent
as has a job suited to the likes of us."
As the fellow came near enough for a distinct view of his features,
Lyttleton involuntarily shrank from him, so brutal and forbidding was
their expression.
But recovering himself instantly, he repeated substantially, and
under the same promise of secrecy, what he had been saying to Brannon.
"I'm your man, if we can agree on the terms," was the rejoinder.
"I'll want a pretty stiff price, mind ye, stranger, for it's like to
be a risky business, more so than if ye wanted him put clean out o'
the way; for 'dead men tell no tales,' you know."
Lyttleton shook his head.
"No, no, I can't stain my hands with blood, his or that of any other
man."
The ruffian regarded him with a brutal sneer and a muttered sentence,
of which the only audible words were "white livered coward."
Lyttleton writhed under the charge but dared not resent it. In fact
he began to feel himself in a perilous position; darkness was already
settling down over the forest, he had not full confidence in his
valet, and these others were evidently unscrupulous scoundrels.
"How much ahead are you, did ye say?" queried Shark.
"I think we have the start of him by from six to eight hours,"
replied Lyttleton. "Besides, we have pushed on more rapidly than he
would be likely to, as you may judge by the condition of our horses."
"H'm! then he'll most likely be along here about this time, or a
trifle earlier, to-morrow, stop fur his lodging at Brannon's, just
above here, a little back in the woods, or at my shanty five miles
furder on. 'Twont make much difference; whichever he stops with, the
other'll help entertain him. And, stranger, we kin turn out purty
strong on occasion. I've two strappin' sons and a nevvy, and the old
woman can lend a helpin' hand too, when she's wanted.
"S'posen' you and Brannon and this other feller come over home with
me now, and let's talk it over. We'll determine just what's to be
done, and I'll set my price."
Lyttleton had felt a cold chill running down his spine during this
speech and at the moment would gladly have put many miles between him
and what he began to suspect was an organized band of robbers and
cut-throats.
But evidently it would not do to show fear. Carefully steadying his
voice, he courteously thanked Shark for his invitation, but declined
it on the plea that they all, himself, Hans and both their horses,
were in sore need of rest; for which reason they would stop for the
night with Brannon; his house being so much nearer. This seemed
satisfactory and thither they all went.