CHAPTER XIX
THE QUEEN'S RANGERS
A bullet had struck the hand rail, shattering one of the supports, andthe broad steps were scarred and splintered. The man lay face upward, hisfeet inside the hallway, one side of his head crushed in. He was roughlydressed in woolen shirt and patched smallclothes, and wore gold hoops inhis ears, his complexion dark enough for a mulatto, with hands seared andtwisted. Surely the fellow was no soldier; he appeared more to me likeone who had followed the sea. I stepped over his body, and glanced thelength of the hall. The chandelier was shattered, the glass gleamingunderfoot; the stair rail broken into a jagged splinter, and a secondman, shot through the eye, rested half upright propped against the lowerstep. He was a sandy-bearded fellow, no better dressed than the onewithout, but with a belt about him, containing pistol and knife. Hisyellow teeth protruding gave his ghastly features a fiendish look. Beyondhim a pair of legs stuck out from behind the staircase, clad in longcavalry boots, and above these, barely showing, the green cloth of theQueen's Rangers. Then Grant had not gone when this attack was made, orelse he had left some men behind? I dragged the body out into the lightso I might see the face--it was the Irishman who had helped in mycapture.
I stood staring down at him, and about me into the dismantled room,endeavoring to clear my brain and figure all this out. It was not sodifficult to conceive what had occurred, every bit of evidence pointingto a single conclusion. Grant had searched the house for Eric, anddiscovered no signs of his presence; whatever had subsequently happenedbetween the girl and himself, she had not felt justified in releasing mewhile he and his men remained. They must have departed soon after dark,well provisioned, upon their long march toward the Delaware, leavingElmhurst unoccupied except for its mistress and her servants. The factthat neither the lady nor Peter had opened the entrance to the secretstaircase would seem to show that the attack on the house must havefollowed swiftly. It had been a surprise, giving those within no chanceto seek refuge. There had been a struggle at the front door; some of theassailants had achieved entrance through the window, and that hadpractically ended the affair.
But what had become of Peter? Of the girl? Who composed the attackingparty? The Indian had been despatched to Valley Forge with my memoranda;probably Peter, the Irishman, and a negro or two were alone left todefend the house. As to the identity of the marauders, I had small doubt;their handiwork was too plainly revealed, and those two dead men remainedas evidence. Rough as were British and Hessian foragers, they were seldomguilty of such wanton destruction as this. Besides this was the home of aprominent loyalist, protected from despoliation by high authority. Thehellish work must have been accomplished by one or more bands of those"Pine Robbers" who infested Monmouth County, infamous devils, hiding incaves among sand hills, and coming forth to plunder and rob. Pretendingto be Tories their only purpose of organization was pillage. Even in thearmy the names of their more prominent leaders were known, such as RedFagin, Debow, West, and Carter, and many a tale of horror regarding theirdepredations had I heard told around the camp fire. These came back tomemory as I gazed about those lower rooms, dreading my next discovery,half crazed to think that Claire Mortimer might be helpless in theirruthless grasp. Better death a thousand times than such a fate.
I pushed forward into the rooms of the lower floor, more than everimpressed by their original magnificence. Now, however, they were allconfusion, furniture broken and flung aside, walls hacked, dishes smashedinto fragments. The scene was sickening in its evidence of wanton hate.Yet I found no more bodies, or proof of further resistance. Apparentlythe only serious fighting had occurred when the front door was burstopen. Had the other occupants of the house fled--up the stairs? Or evenout some back way? I climbed the steps only to discover similar scenesabove; every room had been ransacked, beds pulled apart, drawers opened,and the contents scattered about promiscuously. In what must have beenMistress Claire's private apartment I stood with beating heart staringabout at the ruin disclosed. The large closet had been swept clean,garments slashed with knives, and left in rags; drawers turned upsidedown in search after jewels; the very curtains torn from the windows. Itwas a scene of vandalism of which vagabonds alone would be guilty.
I stepped across the pile of things to the window, glancing out at thestill smouldering ruins of the stable. Whatever had occurred, neither thelady nor Peter remained in or about the house. Of this I was satisfied,yet with the realization there came a sudden comprehension of my ownhelplessness to be of any aid. I was alone, unmounted, and with no weaponbut an old pistol. There might be other weapons on those dead men below,but I could conceive of no effective way of making them useful. Theraiders were doubtless on horseback; they would have added to theirpossessions such animals as might have remained on the place, and mostlikely had departed not later than midnight with their booty andprisoners. The hopelessness of the situation left me almost paralyzed. Ipossessed no means of reaching Farrell, no knowledge of the nearestminute man who could act as courier. From the window where I stood not ahouse was visible. Just beyond the orchard the roads forked, awell-travelled branch circling to the left, and disappearing over theedge of a hill. As I traced it with my eyes a considerable body ofmounted men suddenly appeared on the summit. Without fear that they couldsee me at that distance I watched eagerly as they trotted down the longslope. They were plainly a squadron of British Dragoons, their arms andcross-belts shining in the sun, in spite of the dust kicked up by theirhorses' hoofs.
I waited until convinced they were coming to the house, before drawingback out of sight. It was difficult to decide what was best for me to do.Should I wait, trusting to my rough clothing, and pass myself off as acountryman, or take advantage of the brief time left in which to escape?If I essayed the first choice I could explain the situation, and startthese troopers on the trail; if not they might fail to understand andride on thoughtlessly. What such a body of mounted men were doing in theneighborhood I could merely guess at--either they were riding through toNew York on some matter of importance, or else had been sent outhurriedly to discover what had become of Delavan's foragers. Thissupposition was the more likely, and they had taken the wrong road, thusmissing Grant and his men in the darkness.
They must have cut through the orchard, leaping the low fence, for Iheard the thud of hoofs even as I drew back into the upper hall. Then avoice gave a sharp command.
"Circle the men about the house, Simmons. There is something wrong here,and I saw a fellow at that upper window as we came down the hill. Movequick, now!"
I must face them, and went forward to the head of the stairs,anticipating an easy explanation of my presence within. Already quite asquad was inside the front door bending over the bodies and staring aboutcuriously.
"Pine Robbers, eh, Colonel?" said one contemptuously. "That fellow hascutthroat written all over him. Don't see any signs of our men here."
"Queen Ranger lying back of the stairs, sir," reported a soldier briefly;"Irish lookin' mug."
The man addressed as Colonel, a Ranger himself from his green uniform,looked up quickly and saw me. He called out an order, and three or fourmen sprang up the stairs, grasping and leading me down. I made noresistance, not realizing I was in any danger. The Colonel, a tall manwith gray moustache and goatee, and dark, searching eyes, faced mesternly.
"What are you doing here, sir? Come, speak up! What does all this mean?"and he swept his hand about in gesture.
"I came along about thirty minutes ago," I explained, beginning toappreciate my situation, from the suspicious glances cast at me, andrecalling how disreputable my appearance must be. "I found things just asthey are now, sir. There's been a fight and robbery."
"That's plain to be seen; are these all the bodies?"
"Yes, sir, but the house is upside down from end to end."
"You saw no one? No British soldiers?"
I shook my head, conscious of the fierce grip with which I was beingheld. A couple of the men dragged out the body from behind the stairs,and a
s the face came into the light, the Colonel's eyes saw it. I heardthe sharp breath expelled through his lips, as he stared down into thoseghastly features.
"Good Lord! Mike! What in the name of heaven does this mean? He wassupposed to be with Claire!"
"There must be some mistake, Colonel Mortimer," insisted the otherofficer gravely. "Perhaps we can get the truth out of this bumpkin, if wetake the lash to him."
I understood in a flash, and as swiftly chose a course of action. Thisgray-headed Colonel was her father, and I would serve her in thisemergency without thought of my own danger. No threat of a whip wouldopen my lips, but memory would.
"Come, you dog!" burst out the Colonel fiercely. "You know more than youhave told. Speak up, or we'll skin you alive."
"I will, Colonel Mortimer," I said, looking him straight in the eyes."Not because of your threats, but because I wish to serve you. Now I knowwho you are, and I will tell you all I know about this whole affair."
"Was--was my daughter here?" he interrupted.
"Yes, sir."
"My God! and Eric?"
"Not to my knowledge--there was a man called Peter, this fellow, and ablack slave or two. They were all I saw."
"But why should Claire have been here," he asked, as though dazed,"unless she came to meet her brother? I supposed her safe in the city."
"I do not pretend to understand the cause of her presence. But if youlisten to my story you may know what to do." I paused an instant to get agrip on my thoughts. I need not tell all, confess my identity, or mentionmy personal relations with the daughter. "I am a soldier, ColonelMortimer, in Maxwell's Brigade, of Washington's army. What brought mehere has nothing to do with the present story. I was in the fight overyonder near Mount Laurel night before last when we captured Delavan'sforage train--"
"What!" burst in the dragoon officer. "Was Delavan defeated, then? Hadn'tGrant joined him?"
"Yes to both questions, sir. Delavan was killed, and Grant surrendered.He and his men were paroled, and started for Philadelphia last eveningfrom here."
"From here!" incredulously. "That must be a lie, Colonel, for MountLaurel is between here and the city."
"Nevertheless, it is no lie," I retorted promptly, looking the young foolin the eyes. "I was hiding here for reasons of my own when they cametramping in along that road about the middle of the forenoon yesterday.There was near a hundred Hessians and Rangers, with two German officers,and Grant. I heard them tell Mistress Mortimer this was the nearest placewhere they were sure of finding provisions, and that they intended toremain until night. I don't know what happened after that, except thatthe officers went inside, and the men marched around to the back to eattheir breakfast."
"What became of you?"
"Oh, I had other business, and never got back along here until just atdaylight this morning. Then I found things this way."
"You don't know what occurred, then?"
"No more than you do. But I've got my opinion. It's this--Grant and hisfellows must have left as soon as it was dark, taking the west road,which was the cause of your missing them. It is likely from this manMike's body, that your daughter and her party were still in the house. Itcouldn't have been much later when these others got here and made theattack. Mike must have fought them at the front door, but that was allthe fight made; there's no sign of any struggle inside."
"Then they never got Claire," declared Mortimer positively. "That's acertainty, Seldon."
"She would have fought, sir?"
"Like a tiger. I know my little girl. And, besides, Peter would have diedbefore the hand of one of those villains was ever laid upon her."
"But," I protested, "I have searched the house, Colonel."
"I imagine your acquaintance with the house is somewhat limited," hereplied coldly, turning away. "Seldon, place this fellow under guard inthe library here. We will learn later what his business might be in theJerseys."
My Lady of Doubt Page 19