The MS. in a Red Box

by John A. Hamilton

  CHAPTER XIV

  "I suppose Vliet will be blotted out of existence, if he be fool enoughto meet you, which I doubt. But, my friend, you are of a charmingsimplicity. We are not an extremely law-abiding people in the Isle,but there is a constable of the wapentake; there are justices of thepeace. Would it have been very troublesome to send the Dutchman toLincoln Castle to await his trial for attempted murder? He would havebeen out of the way for a time, at any rate, and there is just a chancehe might have been hanged. You prefer to give him the opportunity toshoot you, or to devise some other means of killing you more convenientto himself. Or, if you should kill him, the law may be set in motionagainst you, probably by the gentleman who objects to you as ason-in-law. If you will be advised by me, you will retract your cartelof defiance, and take steps to commit Mynherr Vliet to gaol."

  So spoke my friend Drury, when I told him how matters stood with me.One half of my mind held him wise, but that did not in the least quenchmy desire to settle my quarrel with Vliet man to man. I have oftendone things, knowing all the while I was a fool for doing them; mydifficulty not being lack of wisdom (for my friends have always beenready to supply me with the best) so much as want of liking for it.

  While I waited at Belshaw for the answer to my challenge, my friendgave me many particulars of the history of Captain John Smith, whom hethought one of the greatest men in the world, although the captain washis cousin.

  "He is now in London," said John, "and in hope to lead anotherexpedition. He will snap you up at a word. A tall fellow who has morelives than a cat, and relishes fighting better than his victuals, willsuit him to admiration."

  "There, indeed, you mistake me," I protested. "I am no lover ofbrawls, and would go far to avoid one."

  "But not so far as to the house of a justice of the peace--eh?"answered John, with his low, pleasant laugh. "I have been wonderingwhy you hate Lord Sheffield so cordially."

  "Oh! that is a very old story. His younger brother--younger by nine orten years--and I were playmates. He was a tender little chap, and Iwas a big, hulking boy; but I was his squire, ready almost to be hisdog, partly because he was as delicate as a girl, and partly because hewas of so fine a spirit. Child as he was, he could make me laugh orcry by the music he drew out of his fiddle. What was the driesttaskwork to me was play to him, and while I slowly spelled out a storyof Greece or Rome, he was somehow rapt away, and seeing it all enactedbefore his eyes. And he told tales of his own making such as I neverheard or read. But I cannot describe him. His elder brother used totorment him with the devil's own cunning. Edmund was feeble in bodyand timid, but he scorned to be a coward. His chief pride he took inthat his father had received the Garter for his courageous exploitsagainst the Spanish Armada, and he would not own to fear, even when hewas ready to die of it. Sheffield practised on the child's pride andterror, endlessly. An old mastiff, chained in the courtyard, was sosavage (with some kind of pain, poor beast, I doubt not) that thekennel-man feared to deal with it. One day Sheffield dared his littlebrother to go up to the dog, swearing him a coward if he did not.Edmund went within the reach of the mastiff, and fell down in a faint.The dog was nobler than the brother, and did not touch the child. Atanother time, Sheffield tied a rope round Edmund's body and lowered himfar down the deepest well, threatening to let go the rope, and payingit so fast as to terrify the boy into thinking he had done so."

  "But why, in Heaven's name, didn't the little one appeal to his father?"

  "He would have died sooner. He was drawn up from the well more deadthan alive, and was ill for days after, but he never breathed a wordabout the torture he had been put to, except to me."

  "But why didn't you acquaint his lordship with what went on? Youcouldn't be afraid of the big brother."

  "I was afraid of my hero's contempt. He would have thought medastardly, traitorous, I know not what, if I had told tales of thecruelty he was too proud to complain of himself. But there came an endto the business, and I made it. Looking for Edmund one day, I wentinto an outhouse, where Sheffield had the little fellow across hisknee, held fast as in a vice, and the demon was pinching his tenderbody with slow, screwing pinches. Edmund was writhing and moaning. Ididn't stop to think, but struck the tormentor's cheek as hard as Icould with my fist, and the next instant we were going at each otherwith all our might. I was only a lad of fourteen and he a man oftwenty-four, but I was tall and strong for my age. He knocked me downpretty often, but I was up like a cat and flew at him again, until,either in fear lest he should kill me, or in fear for himself, heopened the door and ran. Shortly afterward, as Edmund led me acrossthe courtyard--for both my eyes were puffed up so that I could notsee--it chanced that the earl met us, and would have an account of whatI had been doing. Nothing loth, I answered his questions, and he heardenough to make him careful Edmund suffered no more at the hands of hisbrother. The dear little fellow died a year later. I could tell youmore, but do you wonder I hate my Lord Sheffield?"

  "No," answered John. "I don't wonder at that. I am inclined to wonderthat he is still alive."

  "I have had very little to do with him since Edmund's death. The earl,who used to have a kindness for me, seemed to shun the sight of me fromthat time forward."

  In the afternoon Luke appeared, grinning as he entered the room.

  "What tickles you so much?" I asked.

  "That Dutchman," answered Luke, laughing outright. "Was as scart as if'a'd seen a bogle, when 'a oppened t' letter, and said sommat in 's ownlingo, swearing like. Asked me when you gev it me. So I says, 'Thismorning, when 'a came down to breakfass.' Then 'a stared at me withhis mouth as wide as a church door, and I stared at him as simple as asheep."

  We laughed, and I opened Vliet's letter. He had written in Dutch forsome unimaginable reason, perhaps because he was puzzled and shaken outof his wits.

  Drury reached out his hand. "I have some acquaintance with thetongue," he said.

  Vliet accepted my challenge, and would meet me the next evening at sixo'clock at a spot about three-quarters of a mile from my presentlodging, where we might be free from interruption. He would comealone. He chose the sword as his weapon, and sent me its length.

  From time to time between the coming of Vliet's letter and the hourappointed, Drury expressed apprehension of some treachery on the partof the Dutchman, begging me not to go alone, and to have some otherweapon besides my sword, but I smiled at his fears. As I said againand again, Vliet could not bring accomplices with him without my seeingthem on the fen, and I meant to keep a good look-out. I would not takeLuke with me, for I had other occasion for his service, namely, to gowith a letter to Anna, in which I asked her to meet me on the followingday. John shook his head over what he deemed reckless folly, and Ilaughed the more, though I felt sorry his long confinement to his couchhad made him so timorous.

  About five o'clock on Sunday evening, I ascended the rising groundbehind the tavern, and watched for Vliet's coming, which was not longdelayed. He came alone in a punt, and as far as I could see withoutother arms than his sword. I had pistols in my belt. I met him at thelittle wharf, and after salutations, we walked in silence to theground, he making no remark on my firearms.

  The country had never seemed more lovely to my thinking than it did onthis still August evening. Ridges and islets, purple with ling, stoodout of the green and golden brown of the fen; water-lilies, yellow andwhite, spotted the surface of the water, and patches of the bluetrumpets of the gentian brightened the edges of the marsh. Youngbroods of duck and moorhen were playing and splashing near the shelterof the reed-beds, which swayed gently under the evening breeze, and thesound of Belton church-bells came, now loudly, now softly, with therising and falling of the light wind. 'Twas not a suitable time orplace for killing a man, methought, as I looked at the landscape, but aglance at Vliet changed my feeling. As for being killed myself, thatnever came into my mind. The road wound to the right, and again to theright, out of view of Belshaw, to a sort of na
tural terrace, whichwould fit our business. Above us on one side the ground slopedgradually upward to an oak plantation, thirty yards away; below theterrace there lay a sharp incline which ended at the margin of the fen.

  "Dis vill do--dis vill do!" shouted Vliet at the top of his voice; andas I began a remonstrance at the noise he made, three horsemen rodeswiftly out of cover of the plantation, one straight toward us, and theother two in a more curving course, as if to cut off my retreat.

  "Yield, or we fire," said one of them.

  I answered by drawing pistol out of belt, and shooting at the villainwho had laid this ambush for me, but I missed him. Then I flew up thebank to an old tree, the nearest of the plantation. If I could get myback against it, there was a bare chance I might keep them all at bayfor a short time, and the sound of firing might bring me help fromBelshaw. I gained the tree, my pursuers close on my heels, but notfiring. As I turned to face them, my foot slipped on one of the roots,and I fell backward against the tree with some force. With a greatcrunch, the bark gave way, and back I went into the hollow, jammedtight from rump to knees. Before I could work myself free, the menwere on me. They disarmed, bound, and gagged me in no time, and thenfell into great laughter at the ease of the capture. All three woreshort cloaks with high collars, and had pulled their hats down overtheir brows, but I saw that one was Sheffield's big negro. Vliet laydown and roared with glee, and ended by rolling over near to me andspitting in my face. One of the others gave him a kick in the ribs,calling him "dunghill cock" in a voice I did not know. Vliet jumped tohis feet, and drew his sword, but a cudgel fell like lightning on hiswrist, disabling him for the present.

  "No more waste of time," said he who had struck the blow. "You,Mynherr, will go north as far as Belton, and home by your newembankment. If you are questioned, you will say that you met Mr.Vavasour here, intending to fight him, but before you could draw sword,he rushed up the hill, and disappeared in the plantation."

  "Backside first," one of the others threw in, laughing.

  The first speaker continued, "He disappeared, and you could find notrace of him. It is a short story, and can be remembered, even whenone is muddled with strong liquor. If you don't stick to it, you willbe dead meat soon. Now, stir your stumps."

  When Vliet had gone out of hearing, two of the men carried me throughthe plantation, on the other side of which ran the high-road. Herewaited a fourth man in charge of a horse and cart. They bundled meinto the cart, throwing sacks over me. I heard the man who had doneall the talking say, "Two within hail in front, and one behind.Remember, you have nothing to do with me unless I whistle twice." Sothe director was my charioteer. By-and-by the jogging of the cartshook a piece of sacking from my face, and I could see the driver, acommon labourer by his dress, with a fringe of ragged beard all roundhis face. He sat slouching forward, staring vacantly before him, asstupid as any lout in the Isle. As we rumbled through Epworth some oneaccosted him.

  "Cartin' o' Sunday! What hasta getten theer?"

  "Nobbut a half deead mon from Keadby for Doctor Hoggatt," was thereply. "Ah'd keeap ma distance, if ah wor theea, fur 'a smells loiket' plague tu meea."

  The hint sufficed to make the inquirer sheer off quickly.

  When we had passed through Epworth, we rattled on faster, and in halfan hour arrived at the gates opening into the grounds of MelwoodPriory, a house which had had many tenants since the Carthusians weredriven out of it, and all unlucky. It had stood unoccupied now for tenor a dozen years, falling into decay, and was believed to be haunted bythe ghost of Matthew Meekness, the last lord prior. Few persons caredto enter its precincts alone, even by day, and fewer still would dareto enter them by night. My conductors had chosen a very safe place ofconcealment for whatever crime they had in view. We entered theavenue, or rather what had been one, for all the trees had been cutdown long ago, and the cart bumped and joggled along the unkempt roaduntil it came to a stand at the main entrance. My captors pulled meout of the cart, carried me in, and down some steps into a large,vaulted chamber, which, as I saw by the light of a fire of logs blazingon the hearth, showed such signs of occupation as a table, a chair,several stools, a rough couch, pots and pans on a shelf, and other oddsand ends. Here they laid me down on the floor and left me. I heardcoming and going, slamming of doors, shouts of laughter, and supposedmy captors were telling their story to comrades, but I could not think.My head throbbed fearfully, and my limbs were cramped and cut by theropes with which I was bound. In a while, the driver of the cart camein, attended by the Moor, carrying a lamp, which he placed on thetable. The driver knelt down beside me. His fringe of beard had gone,and I knew him. It was Boswell. He took the gag out of my mouth, andsaid--

  "Perhaps I needn't tell you where you are, Mr. Vavasour--on the lowestfloor of Melwood Priory. There is only one door by which you could getout, and it is bolted and barred and well guarded. There are six menat my call, everyone well armed. Resistance is hopeless, and can onlyend in your being baldy mauled. I am going to cut your cords, and Ihope for your own sake you won't try to play any pranks."

  I made no answer, but he released me, and handed the one chair to me.My limbs were so benumbed that I had something to do to get up and seatmyself.

  "Now," Boswell said, "hand me that bundle, Musty." The negro producedit from a corner. "I want your clothes, which you must take off, evento your shirt, and put on these. Leave your pockets as they are."

  I obeyed, for I saw the odds were too great for me to dispute with thefellow, but contrived to hide and keep my love-token, which I woreround my neck. The clothing given to me in place of my own was cleanand decent, but of the commonest homespun.

  "Will you give me your word to make no attempt at escape?" askedBoswell. "If so, I will spare you these things"--picking up manaclesand fetters from underneath the couch.

  "I will give no promise of any kind," I answered.

  "As I expected," he rejoined; and proceeded to fasten the bonds on mywrists and ankles.

  Both handcuffs and fetters were connected by a short, strong chain. Sobound, I was helpless against the weakest man who had the use of hislimbs, and Boswell smiled a grim smile as he marked how clumsy I was inmoving.

  A week of my imprisonment passed without event. Once a day, generallyin the early morning, Boswell or the Moor appeared, placing food andwater and fuel within my reach. When they had gone, I had the freedomof the corridor and the rooms or cells opening into it, and I shuffledabout with a brand from the fire in my hand--the lamp had been carriedoff--rather despairingly seeking to discover some outlet, or what mightbe made into one; but there was not even a crack through which daylightmight be perceived, and the floor everywhere was of solid stone. Thedoor at the end of the corridor was thick and heavy, and strengthenedwith iron bands. I beat on it by the hour together, shouting andyelling as loud as I could, on the chance that some one might comewithin earshot. I searched every nook and corner for a file, or whatmight serve the purpose of a file, but in vain. I attempted to breakmy bonds by jerking and straining, but the only result was hurt tomyself. When too much spent for such efforts, and weary of prowlingand prying, I endeavoured to guess what were the intentions of mygaolers, and what my friends might be doing on my behalf, but got smalllight or comfort by this means. I thought it likely my father wouldgive little heed to what Luke might say to him; he might even imagine Iwas hiding somewhere. If my man went to Dick Portington, there mightbe quest made for me, but it would naturally go after Vliet, and if hestuck to the tale which Boswell had put into his mouth, nothing wouldensue of advantage to me. I grew frantic when I pictured to myselfAnna's perplexity and distress; but in one short week I sank into akind of lethargy, which was broken now and then by fits ofrage--helpless, foolish rage. Used as I was to freedom, light, air,exercise, good food, the confinement in the dark told on my health andspirits greatly. If my gaoler had not given me fire, I think I shouldhave lost my wits. It was, indeed, a friend to me.

 
On the eighth day, Boswell paid me a visit in the evening, and broughtme much better fare than had been supplied during the week. He wasattended by several men, who did not enter my dungeon, but made merryin the chamber adjoining mine. He spread the table with decent viands,and produced a bottle of wine, the black man coming and going all thetime on one errand or another, both being weaponed. When supper waslaid, Boswell removed my manacles and fetters, and invited me to eatand drink; and I drew up to table, thinking, as I took knife into myhand, now free, that the best use to which I could put it would be tocut the fellow's throat; but, as I should be all the better of meat andwine, I decided to wait until after supper. He smiled, as if he readmy thoughts, and called out, "Hal, Pete, Robin, have you your toolshandy?" But he did not quite understand my notion, which was that itmight be a good thing to make an end of him, whatever might happen tome afterwards. When I had finished my meal, Boswell said--

  "I have to make you an offer, which will not be made again, if yourefuse it. If you will put yourself into my hands, I will have youconveyed out of this country, and set free with money enough in yourpurse to equip yourself like a gentleman."

  "Is it part of your conditions that I see nobody--speak to nobody--anddisappear without the knowledge of my friends?" I asked.

  "Assuredly."

  "Then I decline your offer."

  "Consider well," he replied. "You will disappear, whether you acceptor refuse. You have disappeared already. If you agree to my proposal,you will find yourself free, with a well-filled purse. You will besome thousands of miles away from England; but there will be nothing tohinder your return, if you desire to return."

  "And what will happen to me if I refuse?"

  "You will find yourself far away from home and friends, penniless,helpless, a hopeless slave."

  "Why should you be at so much trouble in disposing of me? Why not killme here?"

  "Well inquired," said Boswell. "If my advice had been taken, you wouldhave been buried under these stones."

  "I am indebted to you for your kindness," I remarked.

  "You may come to think so," answered Boswell. "My patron wants afuller vengeance than your death would be."

  "Vengeance!" I exclaimed.

  "He has much to say (in his cups, I grant) of how you stole theaffection of a brother, and bred quarrel between him and his father,and alienated friends from him. If the half be true, it is no wonderhe should hate you."

  I sat speechless with astonishment awhile, for I was too young to knowwhat lies men can tell, deluding even themselves into a sort of beliefin their truth.

  "What I say," continued Boswell, as if to himself, "is that revenge iscostly, and death pays all."

  "But, how would my removal to a distant country satisfy Sheffield, ifhe burns for vengeance?" I asked.

  "I did not say that it would. The offer is mine," he answered.

  "Oh, you would play false with your patron, pretending you had carriedme off to the hopeless slavery of which you speak, but setting me atliberty, when we were far enough away? Is that your scheme? And whatdo you stand to gain thereby?"

  "Your bond for five hundred pounds."

  "Which, as you doubtless know, would be worth precisely nothing."

  "If I am willing to take the risk, that is my concern. Look you, Mr.Vavasour, I will be open with you. I have no spite against you, norany great liking for this business, being in it solely for the money tobe made by it--and money I must have. If you agree to my terms, LordSheffield is rid of you for six or nine months, or, it may be, a year.I keep faith with him so far that he has value for his money. But youreturn safe and sound, which is value for yours. Nay, hear me out. Ifyou refuse my offer, Frank Vavasour will be dead and buried and mournedawhile by his friends; and even if you should contrive to return toEngland, nobody--not even your nearest relative--will believe that youare he."

  "Bah! Would you persuade me you are Satan himself, to work suchwonders? And, if you are, I make no compact with the devil."

  I spoke more boldly than my inward feeling warranted, for I began tofear the man. He took no offence, as it seemed, but answered--

  "Sleep on it. Night is a good counsellor."

  A moment later, he asked if I desired more wine, and took up the bottle.

  "You have not emptied this yet, I see."

  He placed bottle and cup near me, made fast the door opening on thecorridor, and joined his comrades in the next chamber, whom hispresence appeared to check, for their talk and laughter became subdued.I drank the remainder of my wine, and began to pace the length of theroom, endeavouring to fathom Boswell's designs; but could make nothingof his strange threats, inclining to think his mysterious language wasmere gipsy rodomontade. In a short time I grew sleepy--extremelyso--and threw myself on the couch, the absence of my bonds enabling meto stretch at my ease, and soon fell asleep.