The Castle Inn

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXXII

  CHANCE MEDLEY

  By this time the arrival of a second pair of travellers hard on theheels of the first had roused the inn to full activity. Half-dressedservants flitted this way and that through the narrow passages, settingnight-caps in the chambers, or bringing up clean snuffers and snufftrays. One was away to the buttery, to draw ale for the driver, anotherto the kitchen with William's orders to the cook. Lights began to shinein the hall and behind the diamond panes of the low-browed windows; apleasant hum, a subdued bustle, filled the hospitable house.

  On entering the Yarmouth, however, the landlord was surprised to findonly the clergyman awaiting him. Mr. Pomeroy, irritated by his longabsence, had gone to the stables to learn what he could from thepostboy. The landlord was nearer indeed than he knew to finding no one;for when he entered, Mr. Thomasson, unable to suppress his fears, was onhis feet; another ten seconds, and the tutor would have fledpanic-stricken from the house.

  The host did not suspect this, but Mr. Thomasson thought he did; and thethought added to his confusion. 'I--I was coming to ask what hadhappened to you,' he stammered. 'You will understand, I am very anxiousto get news.'

  'To be sure, sir,' the landlord answered comfortably. 'Will you stepthis way, and I think we shall be able to ascertain somethingfor certain?'

  But the tutor did not like his tone; moreover, he felt safer in theroom than in the public hall. He shrank back. 'I--I think I will waithere until Mr. Pomeroy returns,' he said.

  The landlord raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you were anxious, sir,' heretorted, 'to get news?'

  'So I am, very anxious!' Mr. Thomasson replied, with a touch of thestiffness that marked his manner to those below him. 'Still, I think Ihad better wait here. Or, no, no!' he cried, afraid to stand out, 'Iwill come with you. But, you see, if she is not here, I am anxious to goin search of her as quickly as possible, where--wherever she is.'

  'To be sure, that is natural,' the landlord answered, holding the dooropen that the clergyman might pass out, 'seeing that you are her father,sir. I think you said you were her father?' he continued, as Mr.Thomasson, with a scared look round the hall, emerged from the room.

  'Ye--yes,' the tutor faltered; and wished himself in the street. 'Atleast--I am her step-father.'

  'Oh, her step-father!'

  'Yes,' Mr. Thomasson answered, faintly. How he cursed the folly that hadput him in this false position! How much more strongly he would havecursed it, had he known what it was cast that dark shadow, as of alurking man, on the upper part of the stairs!

  'Just so,' the landlord answered, as he paused at the foot of thestaircase. 'And, if you please--what might your name be, sir?'

  A cold sweat rose on the tutor's brow; he looked helplessly towards thedoor. If he gave his name and the matter were followed up, he would betraced, and it was impossible to say what might not come of it. At last,'Mr. Thomas,' he said, with a sneaking guilty look.

  'Mr. Thomas, your reverence?'

  'Yes.'

  'And the young lady's name would be Thomas, then?'

  'N-no,' Mr. Thomasson faltered. 'No. Her name--you see,' he continued,with a sickly smile, 'she is my step-daughter.'

  'To be sure, your reverence. So I understood. And her name?'

  The tutor glowered at his persecutor. 'I protest, you are monstrousinquisitive,' he said, with a sudden sorry air of offence. 'But, if youmust know, her name is Masterson; and she has left her friends tojoin--to join a--an Irish adventurer.'

  It was unfortunately said; the more as the tutor in order to keep hiseye on the door, by which he expected Mr. Pomeroy to re-enter, hadturned his back on the staircase. The lie was scarcely off his lips whena heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and, twisting him round with a jerk,brought him face to face with an old friend. The tutor's eyes met thoseof Mr. Dunborough, he uttered one low shriek, and turned as white aspaper. He knew that Nemesis had overtaken him.

  But not how heavy a Nemesis! For he could not know that the landlord ofthe Angel owned a restive colt, and no farther back than the last fairhad bought a new whip; nor that that very whip lay at this moment wherethe landlord had dropped it, on a chest so near to Mr. Dunborough's handthat the tutor never knew how he became possessed of it. Only he saw itimminent, and would have fallen in sheer terror, his coward's kneesgiving way under him, if Mr. Dunborough had not driven him back againstthe wall with a violence that jarred the teeth in his head.

  'You liar!' the infuriated listener cried; 'you lying toad!' and shookhim afresh with each sentence. 'She has run away from her friends, hasshe? With an Irish adventurer, eh? And you are her father? And your nameis Thomas? Thomas, eh! Well, if you do not this instant tell me whereshe is, I'll Thomas you! Now, come! One! Two! Three!'

  In the last words seemed a faint promise of mercy; alas! it wasfallacious. Mr. Thomasson, the lash impending over him, had time toutter one cry; no more. Then the landlord's supple cutting-whip, wieldedby a vigorous hand, wound round the tenderest part of his legs--for atthe critical instant Mr. Dunborough dragged him from the wall--and witha gasping shriek of pain, pain such as he had not felt since boyhood,Mr. Thomasson leapt into the air. As soon as his breath returned, hestrove frantically to throw himself down; but struggle as he might, pourforth screams, prayers, execrations, as he might, all was vain. The hourof requital had come. The cruel lash fell again and again, raising greatwheals on his pampered body: now he clutched Mr. Dunborough's arm onlyto be shaken off; now he grovelled on the floor; now he was plucked upagain, now an ill-directed cut marked his cheek. Twice the landlord, inpity and fear for the man's life, tried to catch Mr. Dunborough's armand stay the punishment; once William did the same--for ten seconds ofthis had filled the hall with staring servants. But Mr. Dunborough's armand the whirling whip kept all at a distance; nor was it until atender-hearted housemaid ran in at risk of her beauty, and clutched hiswrist and hung on it, that he tossed the whip away, and allowed Mr.Thomasson to drop, a limp moaning rag on the floor.

  'For shame!' the girl cried hysterically. 'You blackguard! You cruelblackguard!'

  ''Tis he's the blackguard, my dear!' the honourable Mr. Dunboroughanswered, panting, but in the best of tempers. 'Bring me a tankard ofsomething; and put that rubbish outside, landlord. He has got no morethan he deserved, my dear.'

  Mr. Thomasson uttered a moan, and one of the waiters stooping over himasked him if he could stand. He answered only by a faint groan, and theman raising his eyebrows, looked gravely at the landlord; who, recoveredfrom the astonishment into which the fury and suddenness of the assaulthad thrown him, turned his indignation on Mr. Dunborough.

  'I am surprised at you, sir,' he cried, rubbing his hands with vexation.'I did not think a gentleman in Sir George's company would act likethis! And in a respectable house! For shame, sir! For shame! Do, some ofyou,' he continued to the servants, 'take this gentleman to his room andput him to bed. And softly with him, do you hear?'

  'I think he has swooned,' the man answered, who had stooped over him.

  The landlord wrung his hands. 'Fie, sir--for shame!' he said. 'Stay,Charles; I'll fetch some brandy.'

  He bustled away to do so, and to acquaint Sir George; who through all,and though from his open door he had gathered what was happening, hadresolutely held aloof. The landlord, as he went out, unconsciouslyevaded Mr. Pomeroy who entered at the same moment from the street.Ignorant of what was forward--for his companion's cries had not reachedthe stables--Pomeroy advanced at his ease and was surprised to find thehall, which he had left empty, occupied by a chattering crowd ofhalf-dressed servants; some bending over the prostrate man with lights,some muttering their pity or suggesting remedies; while others againglanced askance at the victor, who, out of bravado rather than for anybetter reason, maintained his place at the foot of the stairs, and nowand then called to them 'to rub him--they would not rub that off!'

  Mr. Pomeroy did not at first see the fallen man, so thick was the pressround him. Then some one moved, and he did; and the thi
ng that hadhappened bursting on him, his face, gloomy before, grew black as athunder-cloud. He flung the nearest to either side, that he might seethe better; and, as they recoiled, 'Who has done this?' he cried in avoice low but harsh with rage. 'Whose work is this?' And standing overthe tutor he turned himself, looking from one to another.

  But the servants knew his reputation, and shrank panic-stricken from hiseye; and for a moment no one answered. Then Mr. Dunborough, who,whatever his faults, was not a coward, took the word. 'Whose work isit?' he answered with assumed carelessness. 'It is my work. Have you anyfault to find with it?'

  'Twenty, puppy!' the elder man retorted, foaming with rage. And then,'Have I said enough, or do you want me to say more?' he cried.

  'Quite enough,' Mr. Dunborough answered calmly. He had wreaked the worstof his rage on the unlucky tutor. 'When you are sober I'll talk to you.'

  Mr. Pomeroy with a frightful oath cursed his impudence. 'I believe Ihave to pay you for more than this!' he panted. 'Is it you who decoyed agirl from my house to-night?'

  Mr. Dunborough laughed aloud. 'No, but it was I sent her there,' hesaid. He had the advantage of knowledge. 'And if I had brought her awayagain, it would have been nothing to you.'

  The answer staggered Bully Pomeroy in the midst of his rage.

  'Who are you?' he cried.

  'Ask your friend there!' Dunborough retorted with disdain. 'I'vewritten my name on him! It should be pretty plain to read'; and heturned on his heel to go upstairs.

  Pomeroy took two steps forward, laid his hand on the other's shoulder,and, big man as he was, turned him round. 'Will you give mesatisfaction?' he cried.

  Dunborough's eyes met his. 'So that is your tone, is it?' he saidslowly; and he reached for the tankard of ale that had been brought tohim, and that now stood on a chest at the foot of the stairs.

  But Mr. Pomeroy's hand was on the pot first; in a second its contentswere in Dunborough's face and dripping from his cravat. 'Now will youfight?' Bully Pomeroy cried; and as if he knew his man, and that he haddone enough, he turned his back on the stairs and strode first intothe Yarmouth.

  Two or three women screamed as they saw the liquor thrown, and a waiterran for the landlord. A second drawer, more courageous, cried,'Gentlemen, gentlemen--for God's sake, gentlemen!' and threw himselfbetween the younger man and the door of the room. But Dunborough, hisface flushed with anger, took him by the shoulder, and sent himspinning; then with an oath he followed the other into the Yarmouth, andslammed the door in the faces of the crowd. They heard the key turned.

  'My God!' the waiter who had interfered cried, his face white, 'therewill be murder done!' And he sped away for the kitchen poker that hemight break in the door. He had known such a case before. Another ran toseek the gentleman upstairs. The others drew round the door and stoopedto listen; a moment, and the sound they feared reached their ears--thegrinding of steel, the trampling of leaping feet, now a yell and now ataunting laugh. The sounds were too much for one of the men who heardthem: he beat on the door with his fists. 'Gentlemen!' he cried, hisvoice quavering, 'for the Lord's sake don't, gentlemen! Don't!' On whichone of the women who had shrieked fell on the floor in wild hysterics.

  That brought to a pitch the horror without the room, where lights shoneon frightened faces and huddled forms. In the height of it the landlordand Sir George appeared. The woman's screams were so violent that it wasrather from the attitude of the group about the door than from anythingthey could hear that the two took in the position. The instant they didso Sir George signed to the servants to stand aside, and drew back tohurl himself against the door. A cry that the poker was come, and thatwith this they could burst the lock with ease, stayed him just intime--and fortunately; for as they went to adjust the point of the toolbetween the lock and the jamb the nearest man cried 'Hush!' and raisedhis hand, the door creaked, and in a moment opened inwards. On thethreshold, supporting himself by the door, stood Mr. Dunborough, hisface damp and pale, his eyes furtive and full of a strange horror. Helooked at Sir George.

  'He's got it!' he muttered in a hoarse whisper. 'You had better--get asurgeon. You'll bear me out,' he continued, looking round eagerly, 'hebegan it. He flung it in my face. By God--it may go near to hanging me!'

  Sir George and the landlord pushed by him and went in. The room waslighted by one candle, burning smokily on the high mantelshelf; theother lay overturned and extinguished in the folds of a tablecloth whichhad been dragged to the floor. On a wooden chair beside the bare tablesat Mr. Pomeroy, huddled chin to breast, his left hand pressed to hisside, his right still resting on the hilt of his small-sword. His facewas the colour of chalk, and a little froth stood on his lips; but hiseyes, turned slightly upwards, still followed his rival with a grimfixed stare. Sir George marked the crimson stain on his lips, andraising his hand for silence--for the servants were beginning to crowdin with exclamations of horror--knelt down beside the chair, ready tosupport him in case of need. "They are fetching a surgeon," he said. "Hewill be here in a minute."

  Mr. Pomeroy's eyes left the door, through which Dunborough haddisappeared, and for a few seconds they dwelt unwinking on Sir George:but for a while he said nothing. At length, "Too late," he whispered."It was my boots--I slipped, or I'd have gone through him. I'm done. PayTamplin--five pounds I owe him."

  Soane saw that it was only a matter of minutes, and he signed to thelandlord, who was beginning to lament, to be silent.

  "If you can tell me where the girl is--in two words," he said gently,"will you try to do so?"

  The dying man's eyes roved over the ring of faces. "I don't know," hewhispered, so faintly that Soane had to bring his ear very near hislips. "The parson--was to have got her to Tamplin's--for me. He put herin the wrong carriage. He's paid. And--I'm paid."

  With the last word the small-sword fell clinking to the floor. The dyingman drew himself up, and seemed to press his hand more and more tightlyto his side. For a brief second a look of horror--as if theconsciousness of his position dawned on his brain--awoke in his eyes.Then he beat it down. "Tamplin's staunch," he muttered. "I must stand byTamplin. I owe--pay him five pounds for--"

  A gush of blood stopped his utterance. He gasped and with a groan but noarticulate word fell forward in Soane's arms. Bully Pomeroy had lost hislast stake!

  Not this time the spare thousands the old squire, good saving man, hadleft on bond and mortgage; not this time the copious thousands he hadraised himself for spendthrift uses: nor the old oaks hisgreat-grand-sire had planted to celebrate His Majesty's gloriousRestoration: nor the Lelys and Knellers that great-grand-sire's son,shrewd old connoisseur, commissioned: not this time the few hundredshardly squeezed of late from charge and jointure, or wrung from theunwilling hands of friends--but life; life, and who shall say whatbesides life!