PERPLEXITIES OF CAPTAIN McBEAN
Captain McBean and Mr. O'Connor halted steaming horses before the door of
Tetherdown. The butler announced that Mr. Waverton had gone out, and then
impressed by the evidence of haste and the martial elegance of McBean,
suggested that my lady might receive the gentleman.
"How? The animal has a mother?" says McBean in French, and shrugged and
beckoned the butler closer. "Now, my friend, could you make a guess where
I should look for Mr. Waverton?" and money passed.
"Sir, Mr. Waverton rides over sometimes to the Hall at Highgate. Miss
Lam--Mrs. Boyce's house;" the butler looked knowing.
"Mrs. Boyce? Eh, is that Colonel Boyce's lady?"
The butler smiled discreetly. "No, sir, to be sure. Young Boyce--young
Mr. Boyce, sir."
Captain McBean wheeled round in such a hurry that the butler was almost
overthrown. They clattered off.
It was not till they were riding through the wood that McBean spoke:
"Patrick, my man, would you say that Harry Boyce is the man to marry
wisely and well?"
"Faith, I believe he would not be doing anything wisely. That same is
his charm."
"_Tiens_, it begins now to be ugly. Why must the boy be married at all,
_mordieu_?"
"It will be in his nature," says O'Connor. "And likely to a shrew."
"If that were all! Ah, bah, they shall have no satisfaction in it. But no
more will I..."
There were at the Hall two women who had almost become calm by mingling
their distress and their tears. It's believed that they slept in each
other's arms, and slept well enough. In the morning another messenger was
sent off to the Long Acre tavern. If he came back with no news it was
agreed they should move into town. They said no more of their fears. Each
had some fancy that she was putting on a brave face for the other's sake.
There is no doubt that they found the stress easier to bear for
consciousness of each other's endurance.
So Mr. Hadley and his Susan were received by an atmosphere of gentle
peace. Much to Mr. Hadley's surprise, who would complain that venture
into Alison's house was much like a post over against the Irish Brigade;
for a man never knew how she would break out upon him, but could count
upon it that she would be harassing.
"We are so glad," says Susan.
"She loves to march her prisoner through the town. It's a simple,
brutish taste."
"Oh. I am so, I believe," says Susan, and contemplated Mr. Hadley with
placid satisfaction.
"She is too honest for you, Mr. Hadley," Alison said.
"Oh Lud, yes, ma'am. The mass of her overwhelms me, and it's all plain
virtue--a heavy, solemn thing. Look you, Susan, you embarrass madame with
your revelations."
"It is curious. He is always ill at ease when I am with him."
"Because you make me tedious, child."
"That's your vanity, Mr. Hadley." Alison tried to keep in tune with them.
"Look you, Susan, I am cashiered by marriage. Once I was Charles. Now I
am without honour."
"Mr. Geoffrey Waverton," quoth the butler.
Alison's hand went to her breast and she was white.
"Dear Geoffrey!" Mr. Hadley murmured. "I do not know when last I saw dear
Geoffrey," and he turned a sardonic face to the door.
Susan leaned forward. "Alison, dear--if you choose--" she began in
a whisper.
"Sit still," Alison muttered. "Stay, stay."
Mr. Waverton came in with measured pomp, stopped short and surveyed the
company and at last made his bow. "Madame, your most obedient. I fear
that I come untimely."
Alison could not find her voice, so it was Mr. Hadley who answered, "Lud,
Geoffrey dear, you're never out of season: like mutton."
"I give Mrs. Hadley joy," says Geoffrey. "Such wit must be rare company."
Alison was staring at him. "You have something to say to me? You may
speak out. There are no secrets here."
"Is it so, faith? Egad, what friendship! But you have always been
fortunate. And in fact I bring you news of more fortune. You are free
of your Mr. Boyce, ma'am. You are done with him. He has been picked up
dead." He smiled at Alison, Alison white and still and dumb. Mrs.
Weston gave a cry and fell back in her chair and her fingers plucked at
her dress.
Mr. Hadley strode across and stood very close to Geoffrey. "Take care,"
says he in a low voice.
"Well. Tell all your story," Alison said.
"They found him lying in the kennel in Long Acre," Geoffrey smiled. "Oh,
there was some brawl, it seems. He was set upon by his tavern cronies in
a quarrel about a wench he had. A very proper end."
"Geoffrey, you are a cur," says Mr. Hadley in his ear.
"You are lying," Alison cried.
Mr. Waverton laughed and waved his hand. "Oh, ma'am, you are a chameleon.
The other day you desired nothing better than monsieur's demise. Now at
the news of it you grow venomous. I vow I cannot keep pace with your
changes. I must withdraw from your intimacy. 'Tis too exacting for my
poor vigour. Madame, your most humble."
"Not yet," Alison cried.
"Let him go, ma'am," Mr. Hadley broke in sharply. "Go home, sirrah.
You'll not wait long before you hear from me."
"From which hand?" Geoffrey flicked at the empty sleeve. "Nay, faith, it
suits madame well, the left-handed champion."
Mr. Hadley turned on his heel. "Pray, ma'am, leave us. This is become
my affair."
"I have not done with him yet," Alison said.
But the door was opened for the servant to say: "Captain Hector McBean,
Mr. Patrick O'Connor," and with a clank of spurs and something of a
military swagger the little man and the long man marched in.
Captain McBean swept a glance round the room.
"So," says he with satisfaction and made a right guess at Alison. "Mrs.
Boyce, I am necessitated to present myself. Captain McBean."
"What, more champions!" Geoffrey laughed. "Oh, ma'am, you have too
general a charity. My sympathy is in your way," and he made his bow and
was going off.
"_Mordieu_, you relieve me marvellously," says McBean, and O'Connor put
his back against the door.
Mr. Waverton waved O'Connor aside.
"You'll be Mr. Waverton?" said O'Connor.
"Od's life, sir, stand out of my way." But O'Connor laughed and McBean
tapped the magnificent shoulder. Mr. Waverton swung round.
"Hark in your ear," says McBean. "You're a lewd, cowardly scoundrel, Mr.
Waverton."
Mr. Waverton glared at him, stepped back and turned on Alison. "Pray,
ma'am, control your bullies. I desire to leave your house!"
"Let him be, sir," Alison stood up. "Leave us, if you please, I have to
speak with him."
"You have not," McBean frowned. "The affair is out of your hands. Come,
sir, march. There's a pretty piece of turf beyond the gates. Your friend
there may serve you."
"Not I, sir," Mr. Hadley put in. "I have myself a meeting to require of
Mr. Waverton."
"So? I like the air here better and better, _pardieu_. Well, Mr.
Waverton, we'll e'en walk out alone."
"Your bluster won't serve you, sirrah. If you be a gentleman, which you
make incredible, you may proceed in order and I'll consider if I may do
you the honour to meet you."
"Gentleman? Bah, I am Hector McBean, Captain in Bouffiers' regiment.
Come, sir, now are you warmer?" He struck Mr. Waverton across the eyes.
Mr. Waverton, drawing back, turned again upon Alison: "My God, did you
bring your bullies here to murder me?"
"I did not bid you here," Alison said.
"_Lâche_," says Mr. O'Connor with a shrug.
"_En effet_," says McBean and sat down. "Observe, Waverton: I have given
you the chance to take a clean death. You have not the courage for it.
_Tant mieux_. You may now hang."
Mr. Waverton again made a move for the door, but Mr. O'Connor stood
solidly in the way. "Attention, Waverton. You have bungled your business,
as usual. Your fellow Ned Boon hath been taken and lies in Newgate. He
has confessed that he and his gang were hired for this murder by a
certain Geoffrey Waverton."
"It is a lie!"
"Waverton--I have a whip as well as a sword."
"I do not concern myself with you, sir," says Mr. Waverton with
dignity. "You are repeating a lesson, I see. But I advise you, I shall
not permit myself to be slandered. This fellow Ned Bone--Boon--what is
his vulgar name? I know nothing of him. If he pretends to any knowledge
of me, he lies."
"You told me that you had hired men to spy upon Mr. Boyce," Alison said.
Mr. Waverton laughed. "Oh, ma'am, I thank you for a flash of honesty.
Here's the truth then. In madame's interest, I had arranged with her that
a party of fellows should watch her scurvy husband. She suspected him of
various villainies, infidelity, what you will. And, egad, I dare to say
she was right. But I have no more concern in it. So you may his back to
your employers, Captain Mac what's your name, and advise them that I am
not to be bullied. I shall know how to defend myself."
Alison came nearer Captain McBean. "Sir, this is a confection of lies. It
is true the man told me he was planning a watch on Mr. Boyce. But not of
my will. And when I knew I did instantly give Mr. Boyce warning."
"I shall deal with you in good time," McBean frowned. "_Dieu de dieu!_ I
do not excuse you. Attention, Waverton! You lie stupidly. Your bullies,
_mordieu_, blunder in your own style. It would not content them to murder
Mr. Boyce. They must have his father too. They could not do their
business quietly nor finish it. The rogue Ben was caught and the Colonel
has only a hole in his shoulder. You may know that he is not the man to
forgive you for it. So, Waverton. You have suborned murder and furnished
evidence to hang you for it. You must meddle with Colonel Boyce to make
sure that his Whiggish party who hold the government shall not spare you.
You set every Jacobite against you when you struck at Harry. However
things go now there'll be those in power urgent to hang you. Go home and
wait till the runners take you off to Newgate. March!"
Mr. O'Connor opened the door with alacrity.
"I am not afraid of you," Waverton cried. "And you, madame, you, the
widow--be sure if I am attacked, your loose treachery shall not win you
off. What I have done--you know well it was done for you and in commerce
with you." Mr. O'Connor took him by the arm. "Don't presume to touch me!"
he called out, trembling with rage. Mr. O'Connor propelled him out.
"I believe Patrick will cut the coat off his back," said McBean pensively
and then laughed a little. He brushed his hand over his face and stood up
and marched on Alison. "Now for you," he said. "I beg leave of the
company." He made them a bow and waved them out of the room.
"Sir, Mr. Boyce?" Mrs. Weston said faintly.
"Madame, Mr. Boyce is not dead. He lies wounded. I make no apology,
_pardieu_! It is imperative to frighten the Waverton out of the
country--since he would not stand up to be killed. You, madame," he
turned frowning upon Alison, "you must have him no more in your
neighbourhood."
Alison bent her head. Mr. Hadley came forward. "Captain McBean, you take
too much upon yourself."
"I'll answer for it at my leisure, sir."
"Pray go, Charles," Alison said gently. So they went out, Mrs.
Weston upon Susan's arm, and Captain McBean and Alison were left
alone, the fierce little lean man stretching every inch of him
against her rich beauty.
"You do me some wrong, sir," Alison said.
"Is it possible?" McBean's chest swelled to the sneer.
"Pray, sir, don't scold. It passes me by. Nay, I cannot answer you. I
have no defence, I believe. Be sure that you can say nothing to make my
hurt worse."
"How long shall we go on talking about you, madame?"
Alison flushed dark, and turned away and muttered something.
"What now?" McBean said. In another moment he saw that she was crying.
Some satisfaction perhaps, no pity, softened his stare....
She turned, making no pretence to hide her tears. "I beg of you--take me
to Mr. Boyce."
"I said, madame, Mr. Boyce is not yet dead." The sharp, precise voice
spared her nothing. "I do not know whether he will live." Alison gave a
choking cry. "I do not now know whether he would desire to live."
"What do you mean?" A madness of fear, of love perhaps, distorted her
face.
"You well know. When I rode out this morning, I had it in mind to kill
the Waverton and conduct you to Mr. Boyce. But I did not guess that
Waverton would refuse to be killed like a gentleman or that I should find
you engaged in the rogue's infamy."
"But that is his lie! Ah, you must know that it is a lie. You heard how
he turned on me, and his vileness."
"_Bien_, you have played fast and loose with him. I allow that. It does
not commend you to me, madame."
"I'll not bear it," Alison cried wildly. "Oh, sir, you have no right. Mr.
Boyce would never endure you should treat me so."
"_Dieu de dieu_! Would you trade upon Harry's gentleness now? Aye,
madame, he would not treat you so, _mordieu_. He would see nothing, know
nothing, believe nothing. And let you make a mock of him again. But if
you please, I stand between him and you."
"You have no right," Alison muttered.
"It is you who have put me there. You, madame, when you played him false
with this Waverton."
"That is a lie--a lie," she cried.
"Oh, content you. You are all chastity. I do not doubt it. But you drove
Harry away from you. You admitted your Waverton to intimacy--you let him
hope--believe--bah, what does it matter? You were in his secrets. You
knew he put bullies upon Harry. Now he has failed and you are in a fright
and want your Harry again. Permit me, madame, not to admire you."
"What do you want of me?" Alison said miserably.
"I cannot tell. I want to know what I am to do with Harry. And you--you
are another wound."
Alison shuddered. "For God's sake take me to him. I will content him."
"Yes. For how long?"
"Oh, I deserve it all. I cannot answer you. And yet you are wrong. I am
not such as you think me. I have never had anything but contempt for Mr.
Waverton. If he were not what he is, he must have known that. He came to
me after I left Harry. He told me that he was having Harry spied upon.
The moment he was gone I wrote to Harry and gave him warning and begged
him come back to me. He has never answered me. And I--oh--am I to speak
of Harry and me?"
"If you could I should not much believe you. From the first, madame, I
have believed you."
"It was I who drove him away from me. I have been miserable for it ever
since. I humbled myself."
Captain McBean held up his hand. "I still believe you. Pray, order
your coach."
"Where is he?"
"He lies at his father's lodging. Observe, madame: I have said--he is
not yet dead. Whether he lives rests, I believe to God, upon what you
may be to him."
"Then he will be well enough," she sobbed as she laughed.
"Oh! I believe in your power," says McBean with a twist of a smile.
She stayed a moment by the door and flung her arms wide. "What I am--it
is all for him."
Captain McBean left alone, took snuff. "A splendid wild cat--and that
mouse of a Harry," says he.