CHAPTER X
TELLS HOW A MYSTERY WAS RESOLVED
I opened my eyes on a bleak dawn full of a pallid, stealthy mist, tofind myself cramped in my chair before the open lattice and withAnthony bending over me, his comely features haggard in the sicklylight.
"Ha, you didn't go to bed then?"
"Evidently not!" I answered, shivering. "But I slept--"
"Well, I did--and never a wink, confound it! And here's you baskingbefore an open window--and on such a perfectly damned morning--haveyou ill again!" and, shivering in his turn, he proceeded to close thelattice and light the candles.
"Pray what o'clock is it, Anthony?"
"A quarter to four. I have ordered a chaise to be ready in half anhour; seems this 'Anchor' Inn is some eight miles away--and better bea little early than late."
After a somewhat hasty toilet, during which Anthony contrived to cuthimself, we descended to find a goodly breakfast and a cheerful fire;but scarcely were we at table than Anthony tugged at the bell rope.
"Good morrow to thee, Thomas!" quoth he to the portly and somnolentlandlord who responded to the summons. "Chaise will be round soon, Ihope?"
"Whenever ye do so wish, Mr. Anthony, sir."
"Excellent! Then pray, Tom, take hence this stuff!" And he pointed toa bottle at his elbow.
"Stuff, sir! Oh, Mr. Anthony--stuff?" exclaimed the landlord insorrowful reproach, his somnolence forgotten in surprise. "It bebrandy, sir--best French--your very own particular--"
"Aye, Tom, I know it is, and begad, I'm lusting for a mouthful--that'swhy I bid you take it away--drink coffee instead, confound it! Sohence with it, Thomas--away!"
Very round of eye, the landlord took up the bottle and wandered offwith it like one in a dream.
Anthony gulped his coffee, but, though the fare was excellent, atelittle, fidgeted with his stock, shuffled in his chair, glancedfrequently and stealthily at his watch and, in fine, discovered allthose symptoms that indicated an extreme perturbation of mind.
"Devil take it, Perry--how you eat!" he exclaimed at last.
"The ham is delicious, Anthony--".
"Dooced stuff would choke me! Oh, by heaven, I'd giveanything--everything, to take your place for the next hour!"
"But then, Anthony, it would probably be I who could not eat!"
"Tush, man, I'll hit you the ace of spades six times out of seven attwelve paces! Four o'clock, by heaven! I wonder if that confoundedchaise will be ready yet!" And up he sprang and hasted away into theyard and almost immediately came hurrying back to tell me the vehiclewas at the door.
Outside the mist seemed thick as ever, though the east was brighteningto day; so I entered the chaise, followed by Anthony growling disgust,the door slammed, and through the open window came the round head ofTom the landlord to bob at us in turn.
"'T will grow finer mayhap by an' by, sirs," quoth he, "hows'ever,good luck an' good fortun' to ye, gentlemen--all right, Peter!" hecalled to the postillion. Whereupon a whip cracked, the chaise lurchedforward and landlord and inn vanished in the swirling mist.
For a while we rode without talking, Anthony scowling out of hiswindow, I staring out of mine at an eddying haze which, thinning outever and anon, showed vague shapes that peeped forth only to be lostagain, spectral trees, barns and ricks, looming unearthly in thehalf-light.
"Perry, you--you are confoundedly silent!"
"You are not particularly loquacious either," I retorted, slipping myhand within his arm.
"Why, no--no, b'gad--I'm not, Perry. But then, it's such a peculiarlydamnable morning, d'ye see."
"Well, it will mayhap grow finer later on, remember."
"Hope to heaven it does!"
"It would make things--a little pleasanter, Anthony."
"Peregrine, if--should anything--anything--er--dooced happen to you,I'll--aye, by God, I'll fight the fellow myself."
"I beg you will do no such thing--I implore you Anthony."
"Oh? Damme and why not?"
"For the sake of Barbara--your Loveliness--your future happiness--"
"Tush, man!" he exclaimed bitterly. "That dream is over!"
"And I tell you Happiness is awaiting you--will come seeking you verysoon, I feel sure."
"How should you know this?"
"You may have heard, Anthony, that people in such a position asmine--people who are facing the possibility of speedy dissolution, aresometimes gifted with a clearer vision--an intuition--call it what youwill. However, I repeat my assurance that Happiness is awaiting you,coming to you with arms outstretched, if you will but have faith andpatience--a happiness greater, fuller, richer than you have everknown."
At this, he turned to scowl out of the window again and I out of mine,and thus we came to an end of the rutted by-lanes we had beentraversing and turned into the smoother going of the main road.
We had gone but a mile, as I judge, when, borne to our ears came thefaint, rhythmic beat of fast-galloping hoofs growing momentarilylouder.
"Someone in the devil's own hurry!" exclaimed Anthony, letting downhis window. "No man would gallop his horse so without reason!Hark--hark, he must be riding like a madman--and in this fog! What thedevil? Nobody to lay us by the heels--eh, Perry?"
"God forbid!" I exclaimed fervently, as Anthony leaned from thewindow.
"Nothing to see--mist too thick!" said he. "But road's dooced narrowhereabouts, yet hark--hark how the fellow rides!" And indeed it seemedto me that there was something terrible in the relentless beat ofthese wildly galloping hoofs that were coming up with us so rapidly.Anthony was peering from the window again; I heard him shout, felt thechaise swing jolting towards the hedge and the horseman was by--ablurred vision that flashed upon my sight and was gone.
"Missed by inches--dooced reckless, by Gad!" exclaimed Anthony, and Isaw that his frown had vanished.
"What kind of a person was he?" I demanded.
"Muffled up to the ears, Perry, hat over his eyes--big horse--powerfulbeast. Going to clear up and be a fine day after all, I fancy."
"And it is nearly five o'clock!" said I, glancing at my watch.
"Hum!" sighed Anthony. "And here you sit as serenely untroubled, asplacidly assured, as if you were the best shot in the world instead ofthe worst."
"Listen, Anthony!" I cried suddenly. "Do you hear anything--listen,man!" A faint throbbing upon the air, a pulsing beat growing louderand louder. "Do you hear it, Anthony, do you hear it?"
"No--yes--begad, Perry, it sounds like--"
"Another horse at full gallop, Anthony--and coming up behind us.Another horseman--from the same direction!"
"Dev'lish strange, Perry. How many more of 'em?"
"There will be no more!" I exclaimed bitterly, and then, the chaisebeginning to slow up, I thrust my head from the window to demand whywe were stopping.
"Turnpike, sir!" answered the postboy. And peering through the hazebefore us I saw the tollgate, sure enough, and I turned to stare backdown the road towards the second hard-riding horseman, and presentlybeheld a vague blur that resolved itself into a rapidly oncoming shapethat swept down upon us through the swirling mist; the flutter of along cloak, a spurred boot, a shadowy form bowed low in thesaddle--all this I saw in one brief moment; then rose a hoarse shoutfrom the eddying mist ahead; the jingle of flung coins and, liftinghis animal at the tollgate, the horseman cleared it at a bound and,plunging into the haze beyond, had vanished like a phantom.
And now I was seized with a passion of haste and began to shoutfevered orders at our postboy.
"Hurry--hurry! A guinea--ten guineas for your best speed! Drive, man,drive like the devil. Whip--spur!"
I remember tossing money to a hoarse-voiced toll-keeper in a fur cap,and we were off in full career, the light chaise rocking and swaying.I remember Anthony's look of surprise and my answering hishalf-hearted questions at random or not at all, for now I rode, myhead out-thrust from the window, hearkening for the sound of gallopinghoofs ahead of us.
And so at last, afte
r an eternity as it seemed, the chaise slowedagain and came to an abrupt standstill before a dimly-seen buildingand, peering out, I made out the sign:
THE ANCHOR INN.
Next moment I had sprung out into the road and, not waiting forAnthony, hastened into the place, opened a door at random, and foundmyself in a small room where smoked a miserable fire over whichlounged two languid gentlemen well coated and muffled against thechill of dawn.
"Sirs," said I, acknowledging their bows, "pray have you seen twohorsemen pass lately?"
"Horsemen, sir?" repeated a dashing gentleman who seemed all whiskers,teeth and greatcoat. "'Pon my honour, no--stop a bit--yes, I did! Theyrode towards Maidstone, I fancy, sir."
"Did they stop to make any enquiries--either of them?"
"Stop, sir? No, sir--devil a bit!" answered the gentleman, flashinghis teeth and shaking his whiskers to such a degree that I doubted himon the spot. At this moment Anthony appeared, whereupon ensued morepolite bows and flourishes; and now the other gentleman addressed us,a plethoric, red-faced man in a furred, blue frock.
"Our friend Trenchard desired us to await you, gentlemen, to informyou that he has changed the ground. The--the--ah--affair will not takeplace behind the inn here as first intended, but in a place somewhatmore secluded. If you will pray have the goodness to accompany us, wewill--ah--show you the way."
So we set out accordingly, I, for one, little heeding or caringwhither we went.
Now it chanced we came to a narrow way where but two might go abreastand I found myself walking beside the whiskered gentleman who prattledto me very pleasantly, I believe, though of what I cannot recall.After a while the path brought us to a rough track hard beside alittle wood and here stood a roomy travelling-chaise and beside thisthe man Trenchard or Devereux, talking and laughing with Captain Danbyand another.
I remember returning their salutes with a perfunctory bow, butrecollect little else, for now that my time was so near, a numbnessseemed to cloud my brain and I could think only that this littlecopse, full of the grey mist of dawn, was perhaps the last object myeyes should ever see.
"I told one of 'em," said Anthony in my ear, "fellow in blue frockyonder, that you were the dooce an' all with a hair trigger--almost asdead a shot as your uncle Jervas or Gronow of the Guards, and begad,it's set 'em all by the ears, Perry, especially that scoundrel Danby."
At this I laughed, I think, wondering the while if Anthony would everknow how much I loved and admired him.
I remember a stretch of green turf screened by trees; a solemn pacingto and fro by various grave-faced persons; a careful measuring ofdistances and selection of ground.
I remember some objection that Anthony made as to the light, whereuponthe solemn measuring and pacing was gravely done all over again. Ialso recall that Anthony, while discussing or overseeing these graveproceedings, would often lift his head and glance hastily round aboutwith a swift, keen-eyed expectancy.
I remember the sun peeping forth at last to make the world gloriousand warm the chill in my bones.
And then Anthony came towards me, carrying a pistol, and I noticedthat his hand shook as he offered it to me.
"God love you, Perry," he said, a little huskily. "You look asunconcerned, as cool as--as a confounded cucumber! And now, Perry,remember to aim low, all pistols are apt to throw high--so, forheaven's sake aim low, old fellow."
"Do I stand here, Anthony?"
"Yes--damned fellow insists on twelve paces!" said he, his voicesounding hoarser than ever, and I saw his glance wandering again, hereand there, to and fro, in almost desperate fashion.
"Mr. Vere-Manville," called Devereux's second, "may I trouble you amoment, pray?"
Left alone, I stood watching the play of sunshine amid the leaves,when I was roused by a touch and found Captain Danby beside me.
"Your flint looks a trifle loose, sir," said he softly, "Suffer me!"
I relinquished the weapon with a murmur of thanks and stood againabsorbed until I felt the pistol thrust into my grasp and heard a loudvoice speaking.
"Pray attention, gentlemen! Take notice, the word will be'one--two--'"
The loud voice faltered suddenly, was lost in the trampling of horse'shoofs and into the grassy level between Devereux and myself rode myuncle Jervas with my uncle George close behind.
My uncle Jervas reined in his horse and sat glancing serenely roundabout him, his lips curling in his bleak, sardonic smile, hisprominent chin something more aggressive than usual.
"Ah, gentlemen," said he gently. "Your humble servant, I bid you goodmorning. Sir Geoffrey Devereux, we are very well met--at last. This isa pleasure I much desired when--we were younger, as you will doubtlessremember, but I imagined, until very recently, that you were dead,sir, and damned, and necessarily out of my reach. You have hiddenyourself surpassingly well, sir."
Very deliberately my uncle Jervas dismounted and proceeded to tetherhis horse to an adjacent tree, while Devereux watched him, head bowedand black brows puckered slightly above his smouldering eyes, hissnowy cravat stained with a small mark of blood from an ugly scratchbeneath his chin and which, despite his icy assurance seemed to worryhim, for he dabbed at it now and then with his handkerchief. And nowmy uncle Jervas approached me, his hand outstretched imperiously, butwhen he spoke his voice was strangely gentle:
"Peregrine, dear boy, oblige me with that pistol."
"God bless you, Uncle Jervas!" said I fervently grasping that hand. "Ithought I recognised you when your horse leapt that tollgate, but fateelected I should arrive here first, as I prayed."
"We were wilfully misdirected and went astray. And now, Peregrine,give me the pistol!"
"No, sir! Indeed you cannot, shall not take my place. This quarrel iswholly mine--a quarrel, sir, of two years' standing--"
"But mine, Peregrine, is of twenty-one years'."
"None the less, sir, you shall not shield me thus--none other shalltake my place, I am here to meet that scoundrel yonder--"
"Ah, Peregrine," said my uncle, speaking very slowly and distinctly,"the scoundrel yonder, Sir Geoffrey Devereux, is the man who foullymurdered your father and my brother! Give me the pistol, boy!"
As he spoke he grasped my wrist and had possessed himself of theweapon or ever I could prevent. Then he turned and faced Devereux, hiseyes very keen and bright.
"George," said he in his quiet, authoritative voice, "pray give us theword."
My uncle George, still sitting his horse, lifted his right hand and Isaw that he also held a pistol.
"Devereux," said he, his handsome face very fierce and grim, "if--thistime--you fire before the word, even by one fraction of a second, Ishoot you where you stand for the vile murderer you are--by God, Iwill! Now mark me! The word will be 'One--two--three--fire!' Is thisunderstood?"
"Yes, George!" said my uncle; Devereux nodded.
"Ready!" said uncle George distinctly. "One--two--three--fire!"
A single sharp report and my uncle Jervas, lurching slightly, stareddown at his weapon that had merely sparked and, letting it fall,staggered aside to a tree and leaned there.
In an instant uncle George was off his horse and together we ran tohim.
"Aha, George--" he gasped in a horrible, wheezing voice, "it--it wasunprimed--lend me--yours!"
"O God!" groaned my uncle George. "You're hit, Jervas--are you hurt?"
"A little, George--your pistol--quick!"
But even as he spoke and despite all his resolution and indomitablewill, he seemed about to swoon; I saw his knees slowly bending underhim, his stately head sank, and crying out in horror, I reached out toclasp him in my arms.
"No, no, Perry!" he gasped. "Don't touch me--yet--I have sufficientstrength--dear boy." For a moment he closed his eyes and when next hespoke his voice was strangely loud and clear.
"Devereux, if ever you prayed--pray now!" Yet as he uttered thesewords, he sank to his knees and leaned feebly against the tree, hispallid face suddenly contorted by a dreadful spasm, so that I couldsc
arcely bear to look. Then, sweating with the agonising effort,slowly--slowly--he raised his arm, dwelt a moment on his aim, andfired; the smoking weapon dropped from his lax fingers and, swayingsideways, he sank down, his face among the grass.
I remember my uncle George running to aid me lift this heavy head; andglancing from these dreadfully pallid features, the pitifulhelplessness of this once strong form, I saw a group of pale-faced menwho knelt and crouched above a twisted thing that had once answered tothe name of Devereux.
"Dead, George?" questioned my uncle Jervas faintly.
"Dead, Jervas!"
"The right eye, George--I think?"
"Yes, Jervas. How is it with you, dear old fellow?"
"Very well--I'm going on--ahead of you, George. Don't--don't grieve,George--'t is none so terrible. And the great conundrum is answered,the mystery is solved, George--I mean--our Julia--she will--marry you,George, after all--I think she always loved you--best. God blessyou--both! And Peregrine--my dear lad--your gipsy--a strong--angel ofGod--Diana--" and with this word his noble spirit passed.
And thus even death was denied me and I, it seemed, was doomed to beno more than an idle spectator.
I remember helping to bear him back to the "Anchor" Inn--laying himreverently upon a settle. And then, because I could not bear to seehim so pale and still and silent, I covered him with my cloak.
I remember the tears wet upon Anthony's haggard face and my uncleGeorge crouched in a chair, clenched fists beneath square chin,staring wide-eyed on vacancy.
"Dead!" he exclaimed in an agonised half-whisper. "I mean to say he'sdead, d'ye see. Jervas--dead--seems so impossible! If it could onlyhave been me--it wouldn't ha' mattered so much, d'ye see. There neverwas any one like old Jervas. And now he's--dead, my God!" The agonisedwhispering ceased and silence fell that was almost as terrible. Butsuddenly upon this awful hush broke a sound of wheels--quickfootsteps; then the door swung open and Diana stood upon thethreshold.
"Peregrine!" she cried. "Oh, praise God you arealive--Peregrine--speak to me! Ah--dear God in heaven! What is it?"And hasting to me, she caught my hand, clasping it to her bosom. "Oh,what is it, Peregrine?" she whispered.
So I brought her to the settle, and reverently turning back my cloak,showed her what it had hidden.
"This!" said I. "Look upon your handiwork and go--wanton!"
Uttering a soft, inarticulate cry, she cowered away, shrank back andback across the room and out into the road beyond.
Then, treading as softly as I might, I crossed the room also and,closing the door very silently, locked and barred it securely.
Peregrine's Progress Page 52