XXXII
THE AFFRAY AT THE PALACE
A little before the hour at which Vaughan interviewed Brereton, SirRobert Vermuyden, the arrival of whose travelling carriage at theWhite Lion about the middle of the afternoon had caused someexcitement, walked back to the inn. He was followed by Thomas, theservant who had attended Mary to Bristol, and by another servant. Ashe passed through the streets the signs of the times were not lostupon him; far from it. But the pride of caste was strong upon him, andhe hid his anxiety.
On the threshold of the inn he turned to the servants. "Are you sure,"he asked for the fourth time, "that that was the house at which youleft her?"
"Certain sure, Sir Robert," Thomas answered earnestly.
"And sure--but, ah!" the baronet broke off abruptly, his tone one ofrelief. "Here's Mr. Cooke! Go now, but be within call. Mr. Cooke,"--hestepped, as he spoke, in front of that gentleman, who was about toenter the house--"well met!"
Cooke was hot with haste and ire, but at the unexpected sight of SirRobert he stood still. "God bless my soul!" he cried. "You here, sir?"
"Yes. And you know Bristol well. You can help me."
"I wish I could help myself!" Cooke cried, forgetting himself in hisexcitement.
"My daughter is in Bristol."
"Indeed?" the angry merchant replied. "Then she could not be in aworse place. That is all I can say."
"I am inclined to agree with you."
"This is your Reform!"
Sir Robert stared. "Not my Reform, Mr. Cooke," he said in a tone ofdispleasure.
"I beg your pardon, Sir Robert," Cooke rejoined, speaking more coolly."I beg your pardon. But what I have suffered to-day is beyond telling.By G--d, it's my opinion that there's only one man worthy of the namein Bristol! And that's your cousin, Vaughan!"
Sir Robert struck his stick on the pavement. "Mr. Vaughan?" heexclaimed. "He is here, then? I feared so!"
"Here? You feared? I tell you he's the only man to be called a man,who is here! If it had not been for him and the way he handled theconstables last night we should have been burnt out then instead ofto-night! I don't know that the gain's much, but for what it's worthwe have him to thank!"
Sir Robert frowned. "I am surprised. He behaved well? Indeed!" hesaid.
"D----d well! D----d well! If there had been half a dozen like him,we'd be out of the wood!"
"Where is he staying?" Sir Robert asked after a moment's hesitation."I've lost my daughter in the confusion, and I think it possible thathe may know where she is."
"He is staying here at the Lion," Cooke answered. "But he's been upand down all day trying to put heart into poltroons." And he ran overthe chief events of the last few hours.
He punctuated the story with oaths and bitter complaints, and perhapsit was for this reason that Sir Robert, after he had heard the mainfacts, broke away. He went through the hall to the bar where thelandlord, who knew him well, came forward and greeted himrespectfully. But to Sir Robert's inquiry as to Mr. Vaughan'swhereabouts he shook his head.
"I wish he was in the house, Sir Robert," he said in a low voice. "Forhe's a marked man in Bristol since last night. I was in the Squaremyself, and it was wonderful what spirit he put into his men. But thescum and the riffraff who are uppermost to-day say he handled themcruelly, and my daughter tried to persuade him from going out to-day.But he would go, sir."
Sir Robert reflected with a gloomy face. "Where are Mr. Flixton'squarters?" he asked at last. He might possibly learn something fromhim.
The man told him, and Sir Robert summoned his servants and went out.It was dark by this time, but a faint glare shone overhead and therewas a murmur in the air, as if, in the gloom beneath, the heart of thecity was palpitating, in dread of it knew not what. Sir Robert had notfar to go. He had barely passed into College Green when he met Flixtonunder a lamp. And so it happened that two minutes later, Vaughan, onhis way from Brereton's lodgings in Unity Street, came plump upon thetwo. He might have gone by in ignorance, but as he passed the tallerman looked up, and Vaughan with a shock of surprise recognised SirRobert Vermuyden.
Flixton caught sight of Vaughan at the same moment, and "Here's yourman, Sir Robert," he cried with a little malice in his tone. "Here,Vaughan," he continued, "Here's Sir Robert Vermuyden! He's looking foryou. He wants to know----"
Sir Robert stopped him. "I will speak for myself, Mr. Flixton, if youplease," he said with the dignity which seldom deserted him. "Mr.Vaughan," he continued, with a piercing glance, "where is mydaughter?"
Vaughan returned his look, frowning. Since the parting in MissSibson's parlour, the remembrance of which still set his blood in aflame, Sir Robert and he had not met. Now, in the wet gloom of CollegeGreen, under a rare gaslamp, with turmoil about them, and the murmurof fresh trouble drawing near through the streets, Sir Robert askedhim for his daughter! He could have laughed. As it was, "I knownothing, sir, of your daughter," he replied, in a tone betweencontempt and anger.
"But," Sir Robert retorted, "you travelled with her, from London!"
"How do you know that I did?"
"The servants, sir, have told me that you did."
"Then they must also have told you," Vaughan rejoined keenly, "that Idid not take the liberty of speaking to Miss Vermuyden. And that Ileft the coach at Chippenham. That being so, I can only refer you," hecontinued with a sneer, raising his hat and preparing to move on, "toMr. Flixton, who went with her the rest of the way to Bristol."
He turned away. But he had not taken two paces before Sir Roberttouched his shoulder, and with that habit of command which fewquestioned. "Wait, sir," he said, "Wait, if you please. You do notescape me so easily. You will attend to me one moment, if you please.Mr. Flixton accompanied Miss Vermuyden, as did her man and maid, toMiss Sibson's house. She gave that address to Lady Worcester, in whosecare she was; and I sought her there this afternoon. But she is notthere." Sir Robert continued, striving to read Vaughan's face. "Thehouse is empty. So is the house on either side. I can make no onehear."
"And you come to me for news of her?" Vaughan asked in the tone he hadused throughout. He was very sore.
"I do."
"You do not think that I am the last person of whom you should asktidings of your daughter?"
"She came here," Sir Robert answered sternly, "to see Lady Sybil."
Vaughan stared. The answer seemed to be irrelevant. Then heunderstood. "Oh," he said, "I see. You are still under the impressionthat your wife and I are in a conspiracy to delude you? Your daughteralso? You think that she is in the plot? And that she gave theschoolmistress's address to deceive you?"
"No!" Sir Robert cried. But, after all, that was what he did think.Had he not told himself, more than once, that she was her mother'sdaughter? Had he not told himself that it could not have been bychance that Vaughan and she met a second time on the coach? He knewthat she had left London and gone to her mother in defiance of him. Heknew that. And though she had entwined herself about his heart, thoughshe had seemed to him all gentleness, goodness, truth--she was stillher mother's daughter! Nevertheless, he said "No!"--and said itangrily.
"Then I do not know what you mean!" Vaughan retorted.
"I believe that you can tell me something, if you will."
Vaughan looked at him. "I have nothing to tell you," he said.
"You mean, sir, that you will tell me nothing!"
"That, if you like."
For nearly half a century the old man had found few to oppose him; andnow by good luck he had not time to reply. A man running out of thedarkness in the direction of Unity Street--the open space was full ofmoving groups, of alarms and confusion--caught sight of Vaughan'sface, checked himself and addressed him.
"Mr. Vaughan!" he said. "They are coming! They are making for thePalace! The Bishop must be got away, if he's not gone! I am fetchingthe Colonel! The Mayor is following with all he can get together. Ifyou will give warning at the Palace, there will be time for hislor
dship to escape."
"Right!" Vaughan cried, glad to leave his company. And he startedwithout the loss of a moment. Even so, he had not gone twenty pacesdown the Green before the head of the mob entered it from St.Augustine's, and passed, with hoarse shouts, along the south side,towards the ancient Archway which led to the Lower Green. It was aquestion whether he or they reached the Archway first; but he won therace by a score of yards.
The view from the Lower Green, which embraced the burning gaol, aswell as all Queen's Square and the Floating Basin that islanded it,had drawn together a number of gazers. These impeded Vaughan'sprogress, but he got through them at last, and as the mob burst intothe Lower Green he entered the paved passage leading to the Precincts,hurried along it, turned the dark elbow near the inner end, and haltedbefore the high gates which shut off the Cloisters. The Palace doorwas in the innermost or southeast corner of the Cloisters.
It was very dark at the end of the passage; and fortunately! For thegates were fast closed, and before he could, groping, find theknocker, the rabble had entered the passage behind him and cut off hisretreat. The high wall which rose on either side made escapeimpossible. Nor was this all. As he awoke to the trap in which he hadplaced himself, a voice at his elbow muttered, "My God, we shall bemurdered!" And he learned that Sir Robert had followed him.
He had no time to remonstrate, nor thought of remonstrance. "Standflat against the wall!" he muttered, his fingers closing upon thestaff in his pocket. "It is our only chance!"
He had basely spoken before the leaders of the mob swept round theelbow. They had one light, a flare borne above them, which shone ontheir tarpaulins and white smocks, and on the huge ship-hammers theycarried. There was a single moment of great peril, and instinctivelyVaughan stepped before the older man. He could not have made a happiermovement, for it seemed--to the crowd who caught a glimpse of the twoand took them for some of their own party--as if he advanced againstthe gates along with their leaders.
The peril indeed, or the worst of it, was over the moment they fellinto the ranks. "Hammers to the front!" was the cry. And Sir Robertand Vaughan were thrust back into the second line, that those whowielded the hammers might have room. Vaughan tipped his hat over hisface, and the villains who pressed upon the two and jostled them, andwhose cries of "Burn him out! Burn the old devil out!" were dictatedby greed rather than by hate, were too full of the work in hand toregard their neighbours closely. In three or four minutes--longminutes they seemed to the two inclosed in that unsavoury company--thebars gave way, the gates were thrown open, and Vaughan and Sir Robert,hardly keeping their feet in the rush, were borne into the Cloisters.
The rabble, with cries of triumph, raced across the dark court to thePalace door and began to use their hammers on that. Vaughan hoped thatthe Bishop had had warning--as a fact he had escaped some hoursearlier. At any rate he and his companion could do no more, and undercover of the darkness they retreated to the porch of a smaller housewhich opened on the Cloisters. Here they were safe for the time; and,his heart opened and his tongue loosed by the danger through whichthey had passed, he turned to his companion and remonstrated with him.
"Sir Robert," he said, "this is no place for a man of your years."
"England will soon be no place for any man of my years," the Baronetanswered bitterly. "I would your leaders, sir, were here to see theirwork! I would Lord Grey were here to see how well his friends carryout his hints!"
"I doubt if he would be more pleased than you or I!" Vaughan answered."In the meantime----"
"The soldiers! Have a care!" The alarm came from the gate by whichthey had entered, and Vaughan broke off, with an exclamation of joy."We have them now!" he said. "And red-handed! Brereton has only toclose the passage, and he must take them all!"
But the rioters took that view also, and the alarm. And they streamedout panic-stricken. When the soldiers rode in, Brereton at their head,not more than twenty or thirty remained in the Precincts. And on thatfollowed the most remarkable of all the scenes that disgraced Bristolthat night; the scene which beyond others convinced many of thecomplicity of the troops, if not of the Government, in the outrage.
Not a man could leave the Palace except with the troops' good-will.Yet they let the rascals pass. In vain a handful of constables--whohad arrived on the heels of the military--exerted themselves to seizethe worst offenders, and such as passed with plunder in their hands.The soldiers discouraged the attempt, and even beat back theconstables. "Let them go! Let them go!" was the cry. And thenimbleness of the scamps in effecting their escape was greeted withlaughter and applause.
Vaughan and the companion whom fate had so strangely joined saw itwith indignation. But Vaughan had made up his mind that he would notapproach Brereton again; and he controlled himself, until a blackguardbolting from the Palace with his arms full of spoil was seized, closeto him, by an elderly man, who seemed to be one of the Bishop'sservants. The two wrestled fiercely, the servant calling for help, thesoldiers looking on and laughing. A moment and the two fell to theground, the servant undermost. He uttered a cry of pain.
That was too much for Vaughan. He sprang forward, dragged the ruffianfrom his prey, and with his other hand he drew his staff. He wasabout to strike his prisoner--for the man continued to struggledesperately--when a voice above them shouted "Put that up! Put thatup!" And a trooper urged his horse almost on the top of them, at thesame time threatening him with his naked sword.
Vaughan lost his temper at that. "You blackguard!" he cried. "Standback. The man is my prisoner!"
For answer the soldier struck at him. Fortunately the blade was turnedby his hat and only the flat alighted on his head. But the man, drunkor reckless, repeated the blow, and this time would certainly have cuthim down if Sir Robert, with a quickness beyond his years, had notturned aside the stroke with his walking-cane. At the same time "Areyou mad?" he shouted peremptorily. "Where is your Colonel?"
The tone, rather than the words, sobered the trooper. He sworesulkily, reined in his horse, and moved back to his fellows. SirRobert turned to Vaughan, who, dazed by the blow, was leaning againstthe porch of the house. "I hope you are not wounded?" he said.
"It's thanks to you, sir, he's not killed!" the man whom Vaughan hadrescued, replied; and he hung about him solicitously. "He'd have cuthim to the chin! Ay, to the chin he would!" with quavering gusto.
Vaughan was regaining his coolness. He tried to smile. "I hardlysaw--what happened," he said. "I am only sure I am not hurt. Just--arap on the head!"
"I am glad that it is no worse," Sir Robert said gravely. "Very glad!"Now it was over he had to bite his lower lip to repress its trembling.
"You feel better, sir, now?" the servant asked, addressing Vaughan.
"Yes, yes," Vaughan said. But after that he was silent, thinking. AndSir Robert was silent, too. The soldiers were withdrawing; theconstables, outraged and indignant, were following them, declaringaloud that they were betrayed. And for certain the walls of theCathedral had looked down on few stranger scenes, even in thosetroubled days when the crosslets of the Berkeleys first shone fromtheir casements.
Vaughan thought of the thing which had happened; and what was he tosay? The position was turned upside down. The obligation was on thewrong person; the boot was on the wrong foot. If he, the young, thestrong, and the injured, had saved Sir Robert, that had been wellenough. But this? It required some magnanimity to take it gracefully,to bear it with dignity.
"I owe you sincere thanks," he said at last, but awkwardly and withconstraint.
"The blackguard!" Sir Robert cried.
"You saved me, sir, from a very serious injury."
"It was as much threat as blow!" Sir Robert rejoined.
"I don't think so," Vaughan answered. And then he was silent, findingit hard to say more. But after a pause, "I can only make you onereturn," he said with an effort. "Perhaps you will believe me when Isay, that upon my honour I do not know where your daughter is. I haveneither spoken to her nor communicated with her sinc
e I saw her inQueen's Square in May. And I know nothing of Lady Sybil."
"I am obliged to you," Sir Robert said.
"If you believe me," Vaughan said. "Not otherwise!"
"I do believe you, Mr. Vaughan." And Sir Robert said it as if he meantit.
"Then that is something gained," Vaughan answered, "besides thesoundness of my head." Try as he might he felt the position irksome,and was glad to seek refuge in flippancy.
Sir Robert removed his hat, and stood in perplexity. "But where canshe be then?" he asked. "If you know nothing of her."
Vaughan paused before he answered. Then "I think I should look for herin Queen's Square," he suggested. "In that neighbourhood neither lifenor property will be safe until Bristol comes to its senses. Sheshould be removed, therefore, if she be there."
"I will take your advice and try the house again," Sir Robertanswered. "I think you are right, and I am much obliged to you."
He put his hat on his head, but removed it to salute his cousin."Thank you," he repeated, "I am much obliged to you." And he departedslowly across the court.
Halfway to the entrance, he paused, and fingered his chin. He went onagain--again he paused. He took a step or two, turned, hesitated. Atlast he came slowly back.
"Perhaps you will go with me?" he asked.
"You are very good," Vaughan answered, his voice shaking a little. Wasit possible that Sir Robert meant more than he said? It did seempossible.
But after all they did not go out that way. For, as they approachedthe broken gates, shouts of "Reform!" and "Down with the Lords!"warned them that the rioters were returning. And the Bishop's servant,approaching them anew, insisted on taking them through the Palace, andby way of the garden and a low wall conducted them into TrinityStreet. Here they were close to the Drawbridge which crossed the waterto the foot of Clare Street; and they passed over it, one of themwalking with a lighter heart, notwithstanding Mary's possible danger,than he had borne for weeks. Soon they were in Queen's Square, and,avoiding as far as possible the notice of the mob, were knockingdoggedly at Miss Sibson's door. But by that time the Palace, highabove them on College Green, had burst into flames, and, a mark forall the countryside, had flung the red banner of Reform to the night.
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