by H. C. Bailey
CHAPTER XXVII
VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD
There is reason to believe that the Earl of Sunderland and Colonel Boycefell out. Sunderland, never an easy man, suspected that he had beenridiculous and was nervously eager to make some one smart for it. ColonelBoyce was in a despondent rage that any one should have heard Marlboroughrate him so. They seem to have had some cat and dog business before theyparted: each, I infer, blaming the other for their ignominy.
But they took it in very different fashions. Colonel Boyce suffered inthe more respectable part of his soul. Sunderland merely fumed and feltvenomous. For it is certain (if absurd) that Colonel Boyce had a sincerereverence for Marlborough. He much desired (one of his few simple humanemotions) that Marlborough should think well of him. If he had tackedMarlborough's name to a dirty business about which Marlborough knewnothing, he had honestly believed that His Grace would be very wellcontent to know nothing of the means, and profit by the end. That hishero should retort upon him disgust and contempt wounded him painfully.Final proof of his devotion--he never thought of questioningMarlborough's judgment. He had no doubt that he had managed the affairwith miserable stupidity, and bowed a humiliated head.
Unfortunately, he was not ready to bow it before Sunderland. If there wasto be scolding between him and Sunderland, he had a mind to give as muchas he took. My lord had been art and part in the whole affair, and couldhave his share, too, in the disaster. But Sunderland had no notion ofaccepting Marlborough's opinion of him. Sunderland had no reverence forany of God's creatures, and with Marlborough safe out of the room,snarled something about an old fellow in his dotage. This much enlivenedthe quarrel, and they parted in some exhaustion, but still raging.
The night brought counsel. Sunderland might tell himself and believe thatMarlborough had become only the shadow of a great name. But the greatname, he knew very well, was valuable to himself and his party, and hehad no notion of throwing it away for the sake of his injured dignity. Inhis way, Colonel Boyce was quite as necessary to my lord. The fellow knewtoo much to be discarded. Moreover, he would still be valuable. Histalents for intrigue and even that weakness of his, his fertility inmultiplying intrigue, much appealed to Sunderland. So before noon on thenext day, Colonel Boyce was reading a civil letter from my lord. Hesneered over it, but it was welcome enough. He did not want to be idle,and could rely on Sunderland to find him agreeable occupation. He walkedout to wait on my lord, and they made it up, which was perhapsunfortunate for Mr. Waverton.
Later in the day my lord heard that a gentleman was asking to speak withhim, a gentleman who professed to have information about the Pretenderwhich he could give only to my lord's private ear. Thereupon my lordreceived a large and imposing young gentleman, who said: "My LordSunderland? My lord, I am Geoffrey Waverton of Tetherdown, a gentleman offamily (as you may know) and sufficient estate. This is to advise youthat I am in need of no private advantage and desire none, but only to domy duty against traitors."
"You are benevolent, sir, but I am busy."
"I believe you will be glad to postpone your business to mine, my lord,"says Mr. Waverton haughtily. "Let me tell you at this moment of anxiousdoubt," Mr. Waverton hesitated like one who forgets a bit of his preparedeloquence,--"let me tell you the Pretender has come to these shores. Hehas come to England, to London. He was in Kensington yesterday."
"You amaze me, Mr. Waverton."
"My lord, I can take you to the house."
"You are very obliging. Is he there now?"
"I believe not, my lord."
"And I believe not too. Mr. Waverton, the world is full of gentlemenwho know where the Pretender was the other day. You are tedious. Whereis he now?"
"My lord, I shall put in your power one who is in all his cunningsecrets: one who is the treasonous mainspring of the plot."
Sunderland, who was something of a purist, made a grimace: "A treasonousmainspring! You may keep it, sir."
"You are pleased to be facetious, my lord. I warn you we have here nomatter for levity. I shall deliver to your hands one who is deep in themost dangerous secrets of the Jacobites, art and part of the designwhich at this moment of peril and dismay brings the Pretender down uponour peace."
"Mr. Waverton, you are as dull as a play. Who is he, this bogey ofyours?"
"He calls himself Boyce," said Mr. Waverton, with an intense sneer."Harry Boyce, a shabby, scrubby trickster to the eye. You would take himfor a starveling usher, a decayed footman. It's a lurker in holes andcorners, indeed, a cringing, grovelling fellow. But with a heart full oftreason and all the cunning of a base, low hypocrisy. Still a youth, butsodden in lying craft."
Sunderland picked up a pen and played with it, and through the flutter ofthe feather he began to look keenly at Mr. Waverton. "Pray spare me therhetoric," says he. "What has he done, your friend, Harry Boyce?"
"He has this long time past been hand and glove with the Jacobites ofSam's. I have evidence of it. Now mark you what follows. Yesterdaybetimes he slunk out to Kensington, using much cunning secrecy. And therehe made his way to a certain house--I wonder if you know it, my lord? Itwas close watched yesterday, and a coach that came from it was beset. Iwonder if you have been asking yourself how the Pretender evaded thatwatch. I can dispel the mystery. This fellow Harry Boyce went in withnews of the guard about the house. It was in his company that thePretender rode away."
"Why do you stop?" said Sunderland.
"Where they went then I cannot tell you. You will please to observe, mylord, that I am precisely honest with you and even to this knave Boycejust. But it is certain that in the evening when Harry Boyce came back tothe low tavern where he lodges--and he came, if you please, in a handsomecoach--he was wearing the very clothes of the Pretender--aye, even to thehat and wig. I believe I have said enough, my lord. It will be plain toyou that the fellow is very dangerous to the peace of the realm and ourgood and lawful king. If you lay hands on him, which I advise you to doswiftly, you will quench a treason which has us all in peril, and welldeserve the favour of King George. For my own part I seek neither favournor reward, desiring only to do my duty as a gentleman." Mr. Wavertonconcluded with a large bow in the flamboyant style.
"Your name is Waverton?" Sunderland said coldly. Mr. Waverton wasstupefied. That such eloquence should not raise a man's temperature! Thathe should not have made his name remembered! He remained dumb. "Pray whendid you turn your coat?"
"Turn my coat?" Mr. Waverton gasped.
"You once professed yourself Jacobite. You went to France with a certainColonel Boyce. You quarrelled with him because he was not Jacobite. Nowyou desire to get his son into trouble. You do not gain upon me, Mr.Waverton."
"I can explain, my lord--"
"Pray, spare me," says Sunderland. "You are not obscure. I see that youhave a private grudge against the family of Boyce. Settle it in private,Mr. Waverton. It is more courageous."
Mr. Waverton stared at him and began several repartees which wereonly begun.
"I find you tiresome," Sunderland said. "I advise you, do not make methink of you again," and he struck his bell. But when Mr. Waverton wasgone: "I fear he has not the spirit of a louse," my lord remarked tohimself with a shrug.
Thus Mr. Waverton's virtue was left to seek its own reward.