CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE TRAITORS' HEADS.
"Where is Mr Selby's club?" asked Frank, as they started that afternoonto keep their appointment.
"You be patient, and I'll show you," replied Andrew.
"But we are not going by water, are we?"
"To be sure we are. It's the pleasantest way, and we avoid the crowdedstreets. I am to introduce you, so I must be guide."
This silenced Frank, who sank back in his seat when they stepped into awherry without hearing the order given to the waterman; and once morehis attention was taken up by the busy river scene, which so engrossedhis thoughts that he started in surprise on finding that they wereapproaching the stairs where they had landed upon their last visit, buthe made no remark aloud.
"I did not know it was in the city," he said, however, to himself; andwhen they landed, and Andrew began to make his way toward Fleet Street,his suspicion was aroused.
"Is the club anywhere near that court where there was the fight?" hesaid suddenly.
"Eh? Oh yes, very near! This is the part of London where all the wits,beaux, and clever men meet for conversation. You learn more in onenight listening than you do in a month's reading. You'll like it, Ipromise you."
Frank was silent, and in spite of his companion's promise felt a littledoubtful.
"Have you known Mr Selby very long?" he asked.
"Depends upon what you call long."
"Do you like him?"
"Oh yes, he's a splendid fellow. So are his friends splendid fellows.You'll like them too. Thorough gentlemen. Most of them of good birth."
Frank was silent again; but he was becoming very observant now, as henoticed that, though they were going by a different way, they weretending toward the scene of their adventure, and the fight rose vividlybefore his imagination. But all was perfectly quiet and orderly around.There were plenty of people about, but all apparently engaged inbusiness matters, though all disposed to turn and look after thewell-dressed youths, who seemed foreign to their surroundings.
It was a relief to Frank to find that there were no signs of an idlingcrowd, and he was congratulating himself upon that fact when, afterincreasing his pace as if annoyed at being noticed, Andrew said sharply:
"Walk a bit faster. How the oafs do stare!"
"Why, Drew!" cried Frank, suddenly checking himself, as his companion,who had led him to the spot from the opposite side, suddenly turned intothe court where they had been wedged in the crowd.
"What is it?" said his companion impatiently. "Come along, quick!"
"But this is the place where they were fighting."
"Of course; I know it is. What of it? They're not fighting now."
As he spoke he was glancing rapidly up and down the court, and with hisarm well through that of Frank he urged him on toward the door of thelarge house.
Frank was annoyed at having, as he felt, been deceived as to theirdestination, and ready to hang back. But he felt that it would seemcowardly, and that Andrew's silence had been from a feeling that if hehad said where they were coming he would have met with a refusal, whilethe next moment the boy found himself in the passage of the house.
A burly man, in a big snuff-coloured coat, confronted them, arranging avery curly wig as he came, but smiled, bowed, and drew back to allow thevisitors to pass; and with a supercilious nod Andrew led on, apparentlyquite familiar with the place, and turned up a broad, well-wornstaircase, quite half of whose balusters were perfectly new andunpainted, evidently replacing those broken out for weapons during thefight.
The sight of these and their suggestions did not increase Frank's desireto be there, but he went on up.
"For this time only," he said to himself; "but I'm not going to let himcheat me again."
A buzz of voices issued from a partly opened door on the first floor,and Andrew walked straight in without hesitation, Frank finding himselfin the presence of about twenty gentlemen, standing at one end of a longroom, along whose sides were arranged small tables laid for dinner.
The conversation stopped on the instant, and every eye was turned towardthe new-comers, who doffed their hats with the customary formal bows,when, to the great relief of Frank, one gentleman detached himself fromthe group and came to meet them.
"How are you, Mr Selby?" said Andrew loudly.
"The happier for seeing you keep your engagement," said their friend thefeeder of ducks, smiling. "Mr Gowan, I am delighted to find my prayerhas not been vain. Let me introduce you to our friends here of theclub. We look upon this as a home, where we are all perfectly at ourease; and we wish our visitors--our neophytes--to feel the same.Gentlemen, let me introduce my guest, Mr Frank Gowan. I think some ofyou have heard his father's--Sir Robert Gowan's--name."
There was a warm murmur of assent, and to a man the party assembledpressed forward to bid the visitors welcome. So pleasantly warm was thereception given to him, and so genuine the efforts made to set him athis ease, that the lad's feeling of diffidence and confusion soon beganto pass away, and with it the feeling of uneasiness; for the boy feltthat these gentlemen could not have been of the party engaged in theriot, and he had nearly persuaded himself that, as this was evidently apublic tavern, quite another class of people had occupied the room onhis previous visit to the place, only he could not make this explanationfit with Andrew's excitement and desire to join in the fight.
But he had little time for thought. His bland and pleasant-spoken hosttook up too much of his attention, chatting fluently about the mostmatter-of-fact occurrences, political business being entirely excluded,and cleverly drawing the lads out in turn to talk about themselves andtheir aspirations, so ably, indeed, that before the agreeable littledinner served to these three at a table close to the window was halfover, Frank found that he was relating some of his country life andschool adventures to his host, and that the gentlemen at the tables oneither side were listening.
The knowledge that he was being overheard acted as an extinguisher tothe light of the boy's oratory, and he stopped short.
"Well?" said his host, with a pleasant smile; while Andrew leaned back,apparently quite satisfied with the impression his companion was making."Pray go on. You drew the great trout close to the river-bank. Don'tsay you lost it after all."
"Oh no, I caught it," said Frank, colouring; "but I am talking toomuch."
"My dear boy," said Mr Selby, "believe me, your fresh, youngexperiences are delightful to us weary men of the town. Cannot you feelhow they revive our recollections of our own boyish days? There, praydon't think we are tired of anecdotes like this. Forbes here used to befond of the country; but he has grown such a lover of town life and thecourt that he hardly mentions it now."
He went on playfully bantering Andrew, till quite a little passage ofgive-and-take ensued, which made Frank think of what a strange mixtureof clever, vain boy and thoughtful man his fellow-page seemed to be,while his own heart sank as he began to make comparisons, and he felthow thoroughly young he seemed to be amongst the clever men by whom hewas surrounded.
But all the time his ears were active, and he listened for remarks thatwould endorse his suspicions of the principles of the members. Still,not a word reached him save such as strengthened Andrew's assurance thatMr Selby was one of a party of clever men who liked to meet for socialintercourse. The fight must have been with other people who occupiedthe room, he thought, and in all probability had nothing to do with thisclub at all.
The evening passed rapidly away, and before Frank realised that it wasnear the time when they ought to be back at Saint James's Mr Selbyturned to him.
"We are early birds here," he said; "so pray excuse what I am about tosay, and believe that I am delighted to have made your acquaintance, onewhich is the beginning, I feel, of a life friendship. Gentlemen," hesaid, rising, "it is time to part till our next meeting. Hands round,please, and then adieu."
He turned to Frank, and held out his hand with a smile.
"Our little p
arting ceremony," he said.
The boy involuntarily held out his, ready to say good-bye; but it wasclasped warmly by Selby in his left and retained, while Andrew with aquick, eager look took his other.
Frank stared, for the rest, who had increased by degrees to nearlyforty, all joined hands till they had formed a ring facing inward.
What did it mean? For a moment the boy felt ready to snatch his handsaway; but as he thought of so doing, he felt the clasp on either sidegrow firmer, and in a clear, low voice their host said:
"Across the water."
"Across the water," was echoed in a low, deep murmur by every one butFrank.
Then hand ceased to clasp hand, people began to leave, and Mr Selbywent quickly to the other end of the room.
"All over," said Andrew, in a quick whisper. "Now then off, or we shallget into trouble for being late."
"Yes, let's go," said Frank, in a bewildered way; and he went downstairswith his companion, and out into the cool, pleasant night air of thestreet.
"We shall have to walk," said Andrew, "so step out."
Frank obeyed in silence, and nothing more was said till, withoutthinking of where they were, they saw Temple Bar before them.
"What did they mean by that?" said Frank suddenly.
"By what?"
"Joining hands together and saying `Across the water.'"
"Oh, nothing. A way of saying good-bye if you live in Surrey."
"Don't treat me as if I were a child," cried Frank passionately. "I'msure it meant more than that."
"Well, suppose it does, what then?"
"What then? Why, you have been tricking and deceiving me. Just too asit seemed that we were going to be the best of friends."
"Nonsense! We are the best of friends, tied more tightly than ever tostand by each other to the end."
"Then there is something in all this?"
"Of course there is. You knew there was when we agreed to come."
"I did not!" cried Frank indignantly; "or if I thought that there mightbe, I felt that it was only a little foolish enthusiasm on your part,and that Mr Selby was only a casual friend."
"Oh no; he is one of my best friends."
"Drew, I shall never forgive you. It was mean and cruel to take methere in ignorance of what these men were."
"Very nice gentlemanly fellows, and you looked as if you enjoyed theirsociety."
"I see it all clearly enough now," continued Frank excitedly, andwithout heeding; "they are Jacobites."
"Not the only ones in London, if they are."
"And `Across the water' means that man--the Pretender."
"Hush! Don't call people names," said Andrew, in a warning whisper."You never know who is next you in the street."
"I don't care who hears me. It is the truth."
"Don't you be peppery now. Why, you were all amiability till we cameaway."
"Because I could not think that there was anything in it. I could notbelieve you would play me such a trick."
"All things are fair in love and war," said Andrew.
"It is a base piece of deception, and I'll never trust you again."
"Oh yes, you will, always. You'll like them more and more every timeyou go."
"I go there again? Never!"
"Oh yes, you will, often, because we all like you, and you are just theboy to grow into the man we want. I had no sooner mentioned your nameto Mr Selby than he said, `Yes, he must join us, of course.'"
"Join you? Why, you are a band of conspirators."
"Silence, I tell you! That man in front heard you and turned his head."
"I don't care."
"Then I must make you. Look here, Frank, whatever we are, you are thesame."
"I!" cried the boy in horror.
"Of course. This is twice you have come to our club, and there is not aman there to-night who does not look upon you as our new brother."
"Then they must be undeceived."
"Impossible! You have joined hands with us, and breathed our prayer forhim across the water."
"I did not; I never opened my lips."
"You seemed to; anyhow, you clasped hands with us, and that is enough."
"I refuse to have any dealings with your club, and for your sake as wellas mine I shall acquaint my father with everything that has takenplace."
"That would not matter," said Andrew coolly. "But you will not. Iintroduced you to Mr Selby, who had come on purpose to see you."
"Then that feeding ducks was a design?"
"Of course it was; the spies and the guard might interfere with astranger hanging about at the water-side, but they can have nothing tosay to a man feeding the ducks."
"Oh, what base treachery and deception! But I will not be tricked likethis. It was the act of a traitor."
"It was the act of a friend to save you in the troubles that are tocome."
"I don't care what you say. I will clear myself from even a suspicionof being an enemy of the King."
"You are a friend of the King," said Andrew, tightening his hold of hiscompanion's arm; "and you cannot draw back now."
"I can, and will. Why can I not? Who is to prevent me?"
"Every man you saw there to-night--every man of the thousand who was notthere. Frank boy, ours is a great and just cause, and the sentence onthe man who has joined us and then turns traitor--"
"I have not joined."
"You have, and I am your voucher. You are one of us now."
"And if I go back, what then?" cried Frank contemptuously.
"The sentence is death."
"Bah! nonsense! But let me tell you this, that the sentence really isdeath for him who, being the King's servant, turns traitor. Who standsworse to-night, you or I?--Oh!" ejaculated the boy quickly, and with asharp ring of horror in his tones; "look there!"
The moon was shining brightly now, full upon the grim-looking old citygateway, and Frank Gowan stood where he had stopped short, as ifparalysed by the sight before him.
"Yes, I know," said Andrew coolly, as he looked up; "I have seen thembefore. Traitors' heads."
In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First Page 8