CHAPTER XXV
The odd and unexpected glimpse of generosity which the King hadallowed to escape him, in his interview with the Duke, somewhatlessened the fears I must otherwise have entertained at that moment.To which must be added that I am one of those who, when violence andphysical danger are not in question, retain a fair mastery of theirminds. Nevertheless, I am free to confess that as I went forward, Iwished myself anywhere else in the world, and would have sacrificedhalf my remaining economies to be seated, pen in hand, and obscurelysafe, in Mr. Brome's room.
But the thing took a turn which relieved me when I least expected it.As I approached, the chagrin in the King's face gave place to a lookof surprise; and that again, but more slowly, to one of intelligence."Ah! _Je me trompais!_" he muttered rapidly. "What did you say hisname was?"
"Price," the Duke answered, continuing to glower at me.
"Price? _Ah, cela va sans dire!_ But--he is a cadet--a dependent? Heis in some way connected--how do you say it--related to your family!"
"To mine, sir!" the Duke exclaimed in a voice of the utmostastonishment; and he drew himself up as if the King had pricked him.
"_N'est-ce pas ca?_" his Majesty replied, looking from one to theother of us. "Yet he has so much a look of you that it might bepossible in some lights to take him for your grace, were hedifferently dressed!"
The Duke looked purely offended. "Your Majesty is under a strangemisapprehension," he said, very stiffly. "If this person resemblesme--of which I was not aware--I know nothing of the cause; and thelikeness for what it is worth, must be accidental. As a fact, I neversaw him but once before in my life, sir, and that perfectly bychance." And he very briefly related the circumstances under which wecame together.
The King listened to the story, but as if he scarcely believed it; andhe smiled when the Duke came to tell how he allowed me to escape.Then, "And you have never seen him from that day to this?" he saidincredulously.
"Never!" said the Duke, positively. "But it is not my intention tolose sight of him again."
"Ah?" the King said.
"I have not told you, sir, all that happened," the Duke continued,reading, I think, the King's thoughts, "But briefly. Mr. Ferguson, whohas come to be little short of a madman, drew a pistol on me at theclose of our interview; and but for his friend here--who had beenplaced to listen, but at that broke from his place of hiding andknocked up the muzzle, so that it exploded harmlessly--I should havecome off ill."
"And I not much better," the King said, nodding and looking grave."You are unhurt."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, that puts another face on it; and if you are retaining himbeside you, what he has now heard will be of the less importance. Harkyou, my friend," he continued, addressing me, "can you keep your mouthshut?"
I said humbly that I could and would.
"Then, _Taisez! Taisez!_" he answered emphatically. "And take thisletter to Hogsden Gardens to Bishop Lloyd's. See Bishop Lloyd and putit in his hands. Say nothing, give no message, but go to your master'sin St. James's Square. Will you seal it, Duke, with a plain seal?Good. And go you out, man, by the way you came in, and answer noquestions. And now for the council and the warrants, my lord. We havelost too much time already!"
To say that I went from the presence without knowing how I did it, andwhen I reached the courtyard had no more idea how I had gained it, orby what staircase I had descended, than if I had been blind, is butthe truth; nor is it to be wondered at when the amazing thing whichhad happened to me is in the least degree taken into consideration. Intruth I walked on air and saw nothing, I was so deeply overjoyed; andthough it is certain that as I went out I met one and another, passedthe sentries, and ran the gauntlet of curious eyes--for who that quitsa court escapes that ordeal?--I was no more conscious of theobservations made upon me, or the surprise I excited as I went by,than if I had really walked in the clouds. Issuing from the gates Itook by instinct rather than design the road to London, and hugging tomy breast the letter which the King--the King!--had entrusted to me,made the best of my way towards Tyburn.
I had been wiser had I gone by the other road through the village andtaken the first coach I found; there are commonly one or two atKensington waiting to carry passengers to London. But in the flusterof my spirits, I did not measure the distance I had to go, or the timeI should consume in walking. My main anxiety for the moment was to bealone; alone, and at leisure to probe my fortune and success, andappreciate both the relief and the good luck I had compassed. I couldhave sung as I walked; I could have skipped and danced; and a gleam ofsunshine breaking the March sky, and gilding the leafless arms of thetrees and the flat green pastures that border the road north of HydePark, I was moved to raise my hat and look upwards and reverentlythank Providence for this wonderful instance of its goodness, which Ihad not had the heart to do for some time.
When I descended a little to earth--a step which was hastened by aflash of recollection that showed me Ferguson's niece waiting atClerkenwell Gate, a little figure, forlorn and desolate, yet with eyesof wrath and a face puckered with determination--when I came I say alittle to myself and to think of Hogsden Gardens, and remembered thatit lay on the farther side of town by Bunhill Fields, I was already atTyburn turning; and it seemed to be no longer worth while to ride. Theday was on the wane, and the road thence to St. Giles's Pound waslively with persons come out to take the air, through whom I threadedmy way at a good pace, and coming to Holborn without mishap, turned upCow Lane, and so got speedily to Smithfield, and across the market toLong Lane, knowing my way so far without having need to ask.
Here, however, I took sudden fright. My mind, which as I walked hadbeen busy with the girl and the steps I should take to find her--ifindeed I wished to find her, about which I was puzzled, thesurrounding circumstances being so different--was invaded by thenotion that I had been long on the road. To this was added next momentthe reflection that messengers sent to arrest the Duke could by takinga coach forestall me. The thought threw me into a hot fit, whichincreased on me when I considered that I did not know the remainder ofthe road, and might waste much time in tracing it. Naturally my firstimpulse in this strait was to seek a guide; but Long Lane bySmithfield is only one degree better than Whetstone Park, and I shrankfrom applying to the sots and drabs who stood at the doors andcorners, or lounged out of the patched windows, and, lazily or rudely,watched me go by.
In this difficulty, and growing the more diffident and alarmed themore slowly I walked, I looked about eagerly for some person, ofpassable aspect, of whom I could enquire. I saw none, and my uncertainglances and loitering steps were beginning to draw on me advancesand an attention that were anything but welcome, when, reaching acorner where an alley, now removed--I think it was then called DogAlley--runs out of Long Lane, I saw a man, decently habited, come outof a house a little way down the alley. He closed the door sharplybehind him, and, as I looked, went off in the opposite direction.
Here was my opportunity. Without losing a moment I ran after him, andhe, hearing my steps, turned; and we came face to face. Then, when itwas too late to retreat, I saw with unutterable dismay that the man Ihad stopped was no stranger, but the person who had dressed me up thenight before and taken me to the mysterious house in the suburbs; theman called Smith whom I had first seen under the Piazza in CoventGarden, and again in Ferguson's room.
To come face to face with anyone of the gang with the knowledge that Ihad but now left the palace after informing against them was of itselfenough to make my knees tremble under me. But of this man, though hiscivil treatment had been in pleasant contrast to Ferguson's brutality,I had conceived an instinctive dread, based as much on his silence andreserve and a sort of strict power with which I credited him, as onhis contemptuous treatment of my tyrant. In a word, had I come onFerguson himself I could scarcely have been more overcome.
On hearing my footsteps he had turned on me very sharply, with the airof a man who had no mind to be followed, and no tast
e for followers.But on seeing who it was his face grew light and he whistled hissurprise. "I was on my way to you," he said, "and here you are. Thatis good luck. I suppose Ferguson sent you?"
"No," I stammered, avoiding his eyes, and wondering, with inwardquakings, what was going to happen to me. "I--I lost my road."
"Oh!" said he, and looked keenly at me. "Lost your road, did you?Well, it was very much to the purpose, as it happened. May I ask whereyou were going?"
I shifted my feet uneasily. "To Bunhill Fields," I said, naming thefirst place of which I could think.
"Ah!" he answered, with apparent carelessness, and though it seemedscarcely possible he should fail to observe the heat and disorder intowhich his presence had thrown me, he made no sign. "Well, you are notfar out," he continued, "and I will come with you. When you have doneyour errand we will talk over my business. This way. I know this endof the town well. And so it was not Ferguson," he added with a sharplook at me, "who sent you after me?"
"No," I said.
"Nor his errand that brought you here?"
"No," I said again, my mouth dry. "And I need not give you the troubleto come with me. I shall be taking you----"
"Out of my way? Not at all," he answered briskly. "And it is notrouble. Come along, my friend."
I dared say no more, nor show farther reluctance; and so, with feetlike lead and eyes roving furtively for a way of escape, I turned andwent with him. Nay, it was not my feet only that were weighted; theletter, and my consciousness of it, lay so heavy on my mind that itwas like lead in the pocket.
I was indeed in a strait now! And in one so difficult I could discernno way out of it; for though I could in part, and in part only,command my countenance, I failed absolutely to command my thoughts,which did nothing but revolve tumultuously about the words, "What am Ito do? What am I to do?" words that seemed written in red letters onmy brain. Only one thing was clear to me in the confusion, and thatwas the urgent necessity I lay under of hiding my errand, thedisclosure of which must carry with it the disclosure of the placewhence I came and the company I had been keeping. With time to thinkand coolness to distinguish I should doubtless have seen thepossibility of announcing my errand to the Duke, yet laying it onFerguson's shoulders; but pushed for time and unable at a pinch toweigh all the issues, I could form no determination, much less oneleading to so daring a step. After one denial, that is.
In the meantime we moved on; and at first my companion seemed to beunconscious of my sluggish pace and my perturbation. But presently Ifelt rather than saw that from minute to minute he glanced at measkance, and that after each of these inspections he laughed silently.The knowledge that I lay under this observation immeasurably increasedmy embarrassment. I could no longer put a fair face on the matter, butevery time he looked at me looked away guiltily, unable to support hiseyes. This presently grew so insupportable that to escape from myembarrassment I coughed and affected to choke.
"You have a cold, I am afraid," he said, scarcely concealing the sneerin his tone. "And yet you look warm. You must have walked fast, myfriend?"
I muttered that I had.
"To overtake me, perhaps! It was good of you," he said in the sametone of secret badinage. "But we are here. What part of the Fields doyou want? Whitecross Street?"
"No," I muttered.
"Then it must be Baxter's Rents."
"No."
"Bunhill Row?"
"No."
"No? Well, there is not much else here," he said; and he shrugged hisshoulders, "except the Fields and the burial-ground. Your businessdoes not lie with the latter, I suppose?"
"No," I said faintly. And we stood.
At another time I must have shuddered at the dreary expanse on thisuttermost fringe of the town that stretched before us under a waninglight; an expanse of waste land broken only by the wall of theburial-ground, or the chimney of a brick-kiln, and bordered, where itslimits were visible, by half-built houses, and squatter huts, and vastpiles of refuse. Ugly as the prospect was, however, and far fromreassuring to the timorous, I asked nothing better than to look at it.and look at it, and continue to look at it. But Mr. Smith, who did notunderstand this mood, turned with an impatient laugh.
"I suppose that you did not come here to look at that," said he.
Like a fool I jumped at the absurd, the flimsy pretext.
"Yes," I said. "I--I merely came to take the air."
The moment the words were spoken I trembled at my audacity. But hetook it better than I expected, for he merely paused to stare at me,and then chuckled grimly.
"Well," he said, "then, now that you have taken the air let us goback. Have you anything to object to that, Mr. Taylor?"
I could find nothing.
"I will come with you," he continued. "I want to see Ferguson, and wecan settle my business there."
But this only presented to me a dreadful vision of Ferguson, releasedfrom his bonds, and mad with rage and the desire to avenge himself;and I stopped short.
"I am not going there," I said.
"No? Then where, may I ask, are you going?" he answered, watching mewith a placid amusement, which made it as clear as the daylight, thathe saw through my evasions. "Where is it my lord's pleasure to go?"
"To Brome's, in Fleet Street," I said hoarsely. And if he had had hisback to me at that instant, and I a knife in my hand, I could have runhim through! For as I said it, and he with mocking suavity assented,and we stepped out together to return the way we had come through LongLane--over which the sky hung low in a dull yellow haze, the last ofthe western light--I had a swift and stinging recollection of the Kingand my lord, and the letter, and the passage of time; and could havesprung from his side, and poured out curses on him in the impotence ofmy rage and impatience. For the hour of grace which the King hadgranted was gone, and a second was passing, and still the letter thatshould warn the Duke of Berwick lay in my pocket, and I saw no chanceof delivering it.
That Smith discerned the chagrin which this enforced companionshipcaused me--though not the ground of it--was as plain as that the factgave him pleasure of no common kind. I had no longer such a command ofmy features that I could trust myself to look at him; but I wasconscious, using some other sense, that he frequently looked at me,and always after these inspections, smiled like a man who findssomething to his taste. And I hated him.
How long with these feelings I could have borne to go with him, orwhat I should have done in the last resort had he continued the sametactics, remains unproved; for at the same corner half-way down LongLane, where I had first espied him, he paused. "I want to go in here,"he said coolly. "I need only detain you a moment, Mr. Taylor."
"I will wait for you," I muttered, tingling all over with sudden hope.While he was inside I could run for it.
"Very well," he said. "This way."
I fancied that he suspected nothing, and that perhaps I had been wrongthroughout; and overjoyed I went with him to the door of the housefrom which I had seen him emerge; my intention being to begone hotfootthe instant his back was turned. The house was three-storied high,narrow and commonplace, one of a row not long built, and but partiallyinhabited. Apparently he was at home there, for taking a key from hispocket, he opened the door; and stood aside for me to enter.
"I will wait," I muttered.
"Very well. Yon can wait inside," he answered.
If I had been wise I should have turned there and then, in the openstreet, and taking to my heels have run for my life and stayed fornothing. But, partly fool and partly craven, clinging to a hope whichwas scarcely a belief, that when he went upstairs or into anotherroom, I might stealthily unlatch the door and begone, I let myself bepersuaded; and I entered. The moment I had done so, he whipped out thekey and thrusting the door to with his shoulder, locked it on theinside.
Then the man threw off all disguise. He turned with a laugh of triumphto where I stood trembling in the half-dark passage. "Now," he said,"we will have that letter, if you please, Mr. Taylor. I have a fancyto
see what is in it."
"The letter!" I faltered.
"Yes, the letter!"
"I have no letter," I said.
"Tut-tut, letter or no letter, out with it! Do you think I could notsee you touching your breast every half minute, to make sure that youhad it safe--and not know what was in the wind! You are a poorplotter, Mr. Taylor, and I doubt if you will ever be of any use to me.But come, out with it! Unless you want me to be rough with you. Outwith whatever it is you have there, and no tricks!"
He had a way with him when he spoke in that tone, not loudly butbetween his teeth, his eyes at the same time growing towards oneanother, that was worse than Ferguson's pistol; and I was alone withhim in an empty house. Some, who would have done what I did, may blameme; but in the main the world is sensible, and I shall forfeit noprudent man's esteem when I confess that, after one attempt at evasionwhich he met by wrenching my coat open, and thrusting me against thewail so violently that my head spun again, I gave up the letter.
"I warn you! I warn you!" I cried, in a paroxysm of rage and grief."It is for the Duke of Berwick, and if you open it----"
"For the Duke of Berwick?" he answered, pausing and gazing at me withhis finger on the seal. "Why, you fool, why did you not tell me thatbefore? From whom? From that scum, Ferguson?"
"From the Duke of Shrewsbury," I cried, rendered reckless by my rage.
"What?" he cried, in a voice of extraordinary surprise.
"NOW WE WILL HAVE THAT LETTER, IF YOU PLEASE"]
"From the Duke of Shrewsbury," I repeated; thinking that he had notunderstood me.
"My God!" he said, with a deep breath. "And have I caught the fox atlast!"
"You are more likely to be caught yourself!" I answered, furiously.
Nevertheless, his words were a puzzle to me; but his tone of slowgrowing, almost incredulous triumph told something. Taking very littleheed of me, and merely signing to me to follow him, he sprang up thestairs, and opening a door led the way into a back-room bare andmiserable, but lighted by the last yellow glow of the western sky. Itwas possible to read here, and without a moment's hesitation he brokethe seal of the letter, and tearing the packet open, read thecontents.
That the perusal gave him immense satisfaction his face, which in thelevel light, cast by the window, seemed to gleam with unholy joy, waswitness, no less than his movements. Flourishing the letter inuncontrollable excitement he twice strode the floor, mutteringunformed sentences. Then he looked at the paper again and his jawfell. "But it is not his hand!" he cried, staring at it in very plaindismay. And then recovering himself afresh, "No matter," he said. "Itis his name, and the veriest fool would have used another hand. Is ityours? Did you write it, blockhead?"
"No," I said.
"No! But now I think of it--thousand devils, how came you by it? Bythis--eh?" he rapped out. "This letter? What d----d hocus pocus ishere? What have you to do with the Duke of Shrewsbury, that he makesyou his messenger?"
He bent his brows on me, and I knew that I had never been in greaterdanger in my life. Yet something of evil came to me in this extremity.Comprehending that if I said I came from Kensington I might expect theworst, I lied to him; yet used the truth where it suited me. "The Dukecame to Ferguson's," I said.
"To Ferguson's?" he answered, staring at me.
"Yes, and bade him get that to the Duke, for his lodging was known andwarrants would be out."
Smith clapped his hands together softly. "What!" he cried. "Is he init as deep as that? Oh, the cunning! Oh, the cunning of him! AndI to be going to all this trouble, and close on despair at that!And--Ferguson gave you the letter?"
"They both did."
"That old fox, too! And I was beginning to think him a bygone! Yet hebeats us all! he beats us all! Or he would have beaten us if hehad not trusted this silly. But I am forgetting. The Duke must bewarned--if he has not started. When was this given to you, Mr. TrustyTaylor?"
"Two hours ago," I said, sullenly.
I was pleased to see that that alarmed him. "You fool!" he said, "whydid you not tell me at once what you had got, and whither you weregoing? If the Duke is taken it will lie at your door. And if he issaved, it will be to my credit."
"I will come with you," I said, plucking up a spirit as I saw himabout to leave.
"No, you will not," he answered, drily. "I am much obliged to you, butI prefer to gain the credit and tell the tale my own way. You willstay here, Mr. Taylor, and when the Duke is away I'll come and releaseyou. In the meantime I would advise you to keep quiet. Hoity-toity,what is this?" he continued, as in my despair I tried to push by him,"Go back, you fool, or it will be the worse for you. You are _not_going out."
And, resisting all my appeals and remonstrances, he thrust me forciblyfrom the door; and whipping outside it, locked it on me. In vain Ihammered on it with my fist and called after him, and threatened him.He clattered unheeding down the stair, and I heard the house-doorslammed and locked. I listened a moment, but all remained quiet; andthen, wild with rage, I turned to the window, thinking that by thatway I might still escape. Alas, it looked only into a walled yard, andwas strongly barred to boot.
God knows I thought myself then the most unlucky of men; a man ruinedwhen on the point of a great and seemingly assured success. I flungmyself down in my despair, and could have dashed my head against theboards. But presently, in the midst of my bewailing myself, and whenthe first convulsive fit of rage was abating, a new thought brought meto my feet in a panic. What if Smith, before he returned, fell in withFerguson? The meeting was the more probable, inasmuch as, if Fergusonsucceeded in freeing himself, he was as likely to hasten to the Dukeof Berwick to warn him as to do anything else. At any rate I was notinclined to sit weighing the chances nicely, but hastening franticallyto the door, I tried it with knee and shoulder. To my joy it yieldedsomewhat; on which, throwing caution aside, I drew back and flungmyself against it with all my weight. The lock gave way, and the doorflying open, I came near to falling headlong down the stairs.
Still, I had succeeded. But I soon found that I was little nearerfreedom than before. The passage was now dark, and the house-door,when I found my way to it, resisted all my efforts. This drove me toseek another egress, which it was far from easy to find. At length,and by dint of groping about, I hit on a door which led into adownstairs room; it was unlocked and I entered, feeling before me withmy hands. The darkness, the silence of the empty house, and my hurry,formed a situation to appal the boldest; but I was desperate, andextending my arms I trod cautiously across the room to where thewindow should be, and sought for and found the shutters. I tried thebar, and to my joy felt it swing. I let it down softly and dragged theshutters open, and sweating at every pore, saw through the leadedpanes the dark dull lane outside, with a faint light from aneighbouring window falling on the wall opposite.
I SAW A MAN HAD COME TO A STAND BEFORE THE DOOR]
I was seeking for a part of the window that opened, and wonderingwhether, failing that, I should have the courage to burst the casementand run for it, when a step approaching along the lane set my heartbeating. The step came nearer and paused, and peering out, my facenearer the glass, I saw a man had come to a stand before the door. Ilooked, and then, to say that my knees quivered under me but faintlyexpresses the terror I felt! For as the man moved he brought himselfwithin the circle of light I have mentioned, and at the same time heraised his face, doubtless after searching in his pocket for the key;and through the glass my eyes met those of Ferguson.
Shrewsbury: A Romance Page 26