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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17434-8.txt b/17434-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4814a2c --- /dev/null +++ b/17434-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15282 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood, by Arthur +Griffiths + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood + + +Author: Arthur Griffiths + + + +Release Date: December 31, 2005 [eBook #17434] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE +BLOOD*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +by + +ARTHUR GRIFFITHS, + +Author of "The Chronicles of Newgate," "Fast and Loose," +etc., etc. + +In Two Volumes. + + + + + + + +London: Chapman and Hall +Limited +1886 + + + + +VOL. I + +CONTENTS OF VOL. I. + + CHAPTER I. + THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED + + CHAPTER II. + ARREST AND INTERROGATION + + CHAPTER III. + THE MOUSETRAP + + CHAPTER IV. + A SPIDER'S WEB + + CHAPTER V. + THE WAR FEVER + + CHAPTER VI. + ON DANGEROUS GROUND + + CHAPTER VII. + AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE + + CHAPTER VIII. + A SOUTHERN PEARL + + CHAPTER IX. + OFF TO THE WARS + + CHAPTER X. + A GENERAL ACTION + + CHAPTER XI. + AFTER THE BATTLE + + CHAPTER XII. + CATCHING A TARTAR + + CHAPTER XIII. + "NOT WAR" + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE GOLDEN HORN + + CHAPTER XV. + THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE + + CHAPTER XVI. + HARD POUNDING + + CHAPTER XVII. + A COSTLY VICTORY + + CHAPTER XVIII. + A NOVEMBER GALE + + CHAPTER XIX. + UNCLE AND NEPHEW + + CHAPTER XX. + RED TAPE + + CHAPTER XXI. + AGAIN ON THE ROCK + + CHAPTER XXII. + MR. HOBSON CALLS + + CHAPTER XXIII. + WAR TO THE KNIFE + + CHAPTER XXIV. + MOTHER CHARCOAL'S + + +VOL. II. + +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. + + + CHAPTER I. + SECRET SERVICE + + CHAPTER II. + AMONG THE COSSACKS + + CHAPTER III. + A PURVEYOR OF NEWS + + CHAPTER IV. + IN WHITEHALL + + CHAPTER V. + MR. FAULKS TALKS + + CHAPTER VI. + MARIQUITA'S QUEST + + CHAPTER VII. + INSIDE THE FORTRESS + + CHAPTER VIII. + FROM THE DEAD + + CHAPTER IX. + IN PARIS + + CHAPTER X. + SUSPENSE + + CHAPTER XI. + AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN + + CHAPTER XII. + IN LINCOLN'S INN + + CHAPTER XIII. + HUSBAND AND WIFE + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE SCALES REMOVED + + CHAPTER XV. + L'ENVOI + + +BLUE BLOOD + + + * * * * * + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +VOLUME I + +CHAPTER I. + +THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED. + + +In the Paris of the first half of this century there was no darker, +dingier, or more forbidding quarter than that which lay north of the +Rue de Rivoli, round about the great central market, commonly called +the Halles. + +The worst part of it, perhaps, was the Rue Assiette d'Etain, or +Tinplate Street. All day evil-looking loafers lounged about its +doorways, nodding lazily to the passing workmen, who, blue-bloused, +with silk cap on head, each with his loa under his arm, came to take +their meals at the wine-shop at the corner; or gossiping with the +porters, male and female, while the one followed closely his usual +trade as a cobbler, and the other attended to her soup. + +By day there was little traffic. Occasionally a long dray, on a +gigantic pair of wheels, drawn by a long string of white Normandy +horses in single file, with blue harness and jangling bells, filled up +the roadway. Costermongers trundled their barrows along with strange, +unmusical cries. Now and again an empty cab returning to its stable, +with weary horse and semi-somnolent coachman, crawled through the +street. + +But at night it was otherwise. Many vehicles came dashing down +Tinplate Street: carriages, public and private, of every variety, from +the rattletrap cab hired off the stand, or the decent coach from the +livery stable, to the smart spick-and-span brougham, with its +well-appointed horses and servants in neat livery. They all set down +at the same door, and took up from it at any hour between midnight and +dawn, waiting patiently in file in the wide street round the corner, +till the summons came as each carriage was required. + +As seen in the daytime, there was nothing strange about the door, or +the house to which it gave access. The place purported to be an +hotel--a seedy, out-at-elbows, seemingly little-frequented hotel, +rejoicing in the altogether inappropriate name of the Hôtel Paradis, +or the Paradise Hotel. Its outward appearance was calculated to repel +rather than invite customers; no one would be likely to lodge there +who could go elsewhere. It had habitually a deserted look, with all +its blinds and casements close shut, as though its lodgers slept +through the day, or had gone away, never to return. + +But this was only by day. At night the street-door stood wide open, +and a porter was on duty at the foot of the staircase within. He was +on the inner side of a stout oaken door, in which was a small window, +opening with a trap. Through this he reconnoitred all arrivals, +taking stock of their appearance, and only giving admission when +satisfied as to what he saw. + +The Hôtel Paradis, in plain English, was a gambling-house, largely +patronised, yet with an evil reputation. It was well known to, and +constantly watched by, the police, who were always at hand, although +they seldom interfered with the hotel. + +But when the porter's wife came shrieking into the street early one +summer's morning, with wildest terror depicted in her face, and +shaking like a jelly, the police felt bound to come to the front. + +"Has madame seen a ghost?" asked a stern official in a cocked hat and +sword, accosting her abruptly. + +"No, no! Fetch the commissary, quick! A crime has been committed--a +terrible crime!" she gasped. + +This was business, and the police-officer knew what he had to do. + +"Run, Jules," he said to a colleague. "You know where M. Bontoux +lives. Tell him he is wanted at the Hôtel Paradis." Then, turning to +the woman, he said, "Now, madame, explain yourself." + +"It is a murder, I am afraid. A gentleman has been stabbed." + +"What gentleman? Where?" + +"In the drawing-room, upstairs. I don't know his name, but he came +here frequently. My husband will perhaps be able to tell you; he is +there." + +"Lead on," said the police-officer; "take me to the place. I will see +to it myself." + +They passed into the hotel through the inner portal, and up the stairs +to the first floor, where the principal rooms were situated--three of +them furnished and decorated magnificently, altogether out of keeping +with the miserable exterior of the house, having enormous mirrors from +ceiling to floor, gilt cornices, damask hangings, marble console +tables, and chairs and sofas in marqueterie and buhl. The first room +evidently served for reception; there was a sideboard in one corner, +on which were the remains of a succulent repast, and dozens of empty +bottles. The second and third rooms were more especially devoted to +the business of the establishment. Long tables, covered with green +cloth, filled up the centre of each, and were strewed with cards, dice +and their boxes, croupier's rakes, and other implements of gaming. + +The third room had been the scene of the crime. There upon the floor +lay the body of a man, a well-dressed man, wearing the white +kerseymere trousers, the light waistcoat, and long-tailed green coat +which were then in vogue. His clothes were all spotted and bedrabbled +with gore; his shirt was torn open, and plainly revealed the great +gaping wound from which his life's blood was quickly ebbing away. + +The wounded man's head rested on the knee of the night porter, a +personage wearing a kind of livery, a strongly built, truculent-looking +villain, whose duties, no doubt, comprised the putting of people out as +well as the letting them into the house. + +"Oh, Anatole! my cherished one!" began the porter's wife. "Here are +the police. Tell us then, how this occurred." + +"I will tell all I know," replied her husband, looking at the +police-officer. "This morning, when the clients had nearly all gone, +and I was sitting half asleep in the lodge, I heard--" + +"Stop," said the police-officer, "not another word. Keep all you have +to say for the commissary. He is already on the stairs." + +The next minute M. Bontoux entered, accompanied by his clerk and the +official doctor of the quarter. + +"A crime," said the commissary, slowly, and with as much dignity as +was possible in a middle-aged gentleman pulled from his bed at +daybreak, and compelled to dress in a hurry. "A crime," he repeated. +"Of that there can be no doubt. But let us establish the fact +formally. Where are the witnesses?" + +The porter, having relinquished the care of the wounded man to the +doctor, stood up slowly and saluted the commissary. + +"Very well; tell us what you know. Sit down"--this to the clerk. +"Produce your writing-materials and prepare the report." + +"It must have been about four this morning, but I was very drowsy, and +the gentlemen had nearly all gone," said the night porter, speaking +fluently, "when I was disturbed by the noise of a quarrel, a fight, up +here in the principal drawing-room. While I was still rubbing my eyes, +for I was very drowsy, and fancied I was dreaming, I heard a scream, a +second, and a third, followed by a heavy fall on the floor. I rushed +upstairs then, and found this poor gentleman as you see him." + +"Alone?" + +"Quite alone." + +"But there must have been other people here. Did they come down the +stairs past you?" + +"No, sir; they must have escaped by that window. It was open--" + +The commissary looked at the police-officer, who nodded intelligently. + +"I had already noticed it, Mr. Commissary. The window gives upon a low +roof, which communicates with the back street. Escape would be quite +easy from that side." + +"Well," said the commissary, "and you found this gentleman? Do you +know him? His name? Have you ever seen him before?" + +"He is M. le Baron d'Enot; he is a constant visitor at the house. Very +fortunate, I believe, and I heard he won largely last night." + +"Ah!" said the commissary. This fact was important, as affording a +reason for the crime. "And do you suspect any one? Have you any idea +who was here at the last?" + +"I scarcely noticed the gentlemen as they went away; it would be +impossible for me, therefore, to say who remained." + +"Then there is no clue--" + +"Hush! Mr. Commissary." It was the doctor's exclamation. "The victim +is still alive, and is trying, I think, to speak." Evidence given at +the point of death has extreme value in every country, under every +kind of law. The commissary therefore bent his head, closely attentive +to catch any words the dying man might utter. + +"Water! water!" he gasped out. "Revenge me; it was a foul and cowardly +blow." + +"Who struck you, can you tell us? Do you know him?" inquired the +commissary, eagerly. + +"Yes. I--know--" The voice grew visibly weaker; it sank into a +whisper, and could speak only in monosyllables. + +"His name--quick!" + +"There--were--three--I had no chance--Gas--coigne--" + +"Strange name--not French?" + +The dying man shook his head. + +"Gasc--tell--Engl--" + +It was the last supreme effort. With a long, deep groan, the poor +fellow fell back dead. + +"How unfortunate!" cried the commissary, "to die just when he would +have told us all. These few words will scarcely suffice to identify +the murderers. Can any one help us?" + +M. Bontoux looked round. + +"The name he mentioned I know," said the night-porter, quickly. "This +M. Gascoigne came here frequently. He is an Englishman." + +"So I gathered from the dead man's words. Do you know his domicile in +Paris?" + +"Rue St. Honoré, Hôtel Versailles and St. Cloud. I have seen him enter +it more than once, with his wife. He has lived there some months." + +"We must, if possible, lay hands on him at once. You, Jules, hasten +with another police-agent to the Rue St. Honoré; he may have gone +straight to his hotel." + +"And if we find him?" + +"Arrest him and take him straight to the Préfecture. I will follow. +There, there! lose no time." + +"I am already gone," said the police-officer as he ran downstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ARREST AND INTERROGATION. + + +The Hôtel Versailles and St. Cloud was one of the best hotels of Paris +at this time, a time long antecedent to the opening of such vast +caravansaries as the Louvre, the Continental, the Athenée, or the +Grand. It occupied four sides of a courtyard, to which access was had +by the usual gateway. The porter's lodge was in the latter, and this +functionary, in sabots and shirt-sleeves, was sweeping out the +entrance when the police arrived in a cab, which they ordered to wait +at the door. + +"M. Gascoigne?" asked the agent. + +"On the first floor, number forty-three," replied the porter, without +looking up. "Monsieur has but just returned," he went on. "Knock +gently, or you may disturb him in his first sleep." + +"We shall disturb him in any case," said the police-officer, gruffly. +"Justice cannot wait." + +"The police!" cried the porter, now recognising his visitors for the +first time. "What has happened, in Heaven's name?" + +"Stand aside; we have no time to gossip," replied the agent, as he +passed on. + +The occupant of No. 43 upon the first floor was pacing his room with +agitated steps--a young man with fair complexion and light curly hair; +but his blue eyes were clouded, and his fresh, youthful face was drawn +and haggard. His attire, too--English, like his aspect--was torn and +dishevelled, his voluminous neckcloth was disarranged, his waistcoat +had lost several buttons, and there were stains--dark purple +stains--upon sleeves and smallclothes. + +"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she +has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the +door of the Vaudeville--the bed has not been slept in. Can she have +gone? Is it possible that she has left me?" + +He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands. + +"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just +when I--Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at +the door. + +"Open, in the name of the law!" + +"The police here already! What shall I do?" + +"Open at once, or we shall force the door." + +The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two +police-agents. + +"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal--we +arrest you." + +"On what charge?" + +"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough. +Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?" + +"Of what am I accused?" + +"You will hear in good time. Isidore, where is your rope?" + +His colleague produced the long thin cord that serves instead of +handcuffs in France. + +"Must we tie you?" + +"No, no! I am ready to submit, but under protest. You shall answer for +this outrage. I am an Englishman. I will appeal to our ambassador." + +"With all my heart! We are not afraid. But enough said. Come." + +The three--police-agents and their prisoner--went out together. On the +threshold of No. 43 the officer named Jules said-- + +"Your key, monsieur--the key of your room. I will take charge of it. +Monsieur the Judge will no doubt make a searching perquisition, and no +one must enter it till then." + +The door was locked, M. Jules put the key in his pocket, and the party +went down to the cab, which was driven off rapidly to the depôt of the +Préfecture. + +Here the usual formalities were gone through. Rupert Gascoigne, as the +Englishman was called, was interrogated, searched, deprived of money, +watch, penknife, and pencil-case; his description was noted down, and +then he was asked whether he would go into the common prison, or pay +for the accommodation of the _pistole_ or private "side." + +For sixteen sous daily they gave him a room to himself, with a little +iron cot, a chair, and a table. Another franc or two got him his +breakfast and dinner, and he was allowed to enjoy them with such +appetite as he could command. + +No one came near him till next morning, when he was roused from the +heavy sleep that had only come to him after dawn by a summons to +appear before the _Juge d'instruction_. + +He was led by two policemen to a little room, barely furnished, with +one great bureau, or desk, in the centre, at which sat the judge, his +back to the window. On one side of him was a smaller desk for the +clerk, and exactly opposite a chair for the accused, so arranged that +the light beat full upon his face. + +"Sit down," said the judge, abruptly. + +He was a stern-looking man, dressed all in black, still young, with a +cold and impassive face, the extreme pallor of which was heightened by +his close-cut, coal-black hair, and his small, piercing, beady black +eyes. + +"Your name and nationality?" + +"Rupert Gascoigne. I am an Englishman, and as such I must at once +protest against the treatment I have received." + +"You have been treated in accordance with the law--of France. You must +abide by it, since you choose to live here. I do not owe you this +explanation, but I give it to uphold the majesty of the law." + +"I shall appeal to our ambassador." + +The judge waved his hand, as though the threat did not affect him. + +"I must ask you to keep silence. You are here to be interrogated; you +will only speak in reply to my questions." + +There was a pause, during which judge and accused looked hard at each +other; the former seeking to read the other's inmost thoughts, the +latter meeting the gaze with resolute and unflinching eyes. + +"What is your age?" + +"Twenty-six." + +"Are you married?" + +"Yes." + +"But your wife has left you." + +Gascoigne started in spite of himself. + +"How do you know that?" he asked, nervously. + +"It is for me to question. But I know it: that is enough. Your +occupation and position in life?" + +"I am a gentleman, living on my means." + +"It is false." An angry flush rose to Gascoigne's face as the judge +thus gave him the lie. "It is false--you are a professional gambler--a +Greek--a sharper, with no ostensible means!" + +"Pardon me, monsieur; you are quite misinformed. I could prove to you--" + +"It would be useless; the police have long known and watched you." + +"Such espionage is below contempt," cried Gascoigne, indignantly. + +"Silence! Do not dare to question the conduct of the authorities. It +is the visit of persons of your stamp to Paris that renders such +precautions necessary." + +"If you believe all you hear from your low agents, with their lying, +scandalous reports--" + +"Be careful, prisoner; your demeanour will get you into trouble. Our +information about you is accurate and trustworthy. Judge for +yourself." + +Gascoigne looked incredulous. + +"Listen; you arrived in Paris three months ago, accompanied by a young +demoiselle whom you had decoyed from her home." + +"She was my wife." + +"Yes; you married her after your arrival here. The official records of +the 21st arrondisement prove that--married her without her parents' +consent." + +"That is not so. They approved." + +"How could they? Your wife's father is French vice-consul at +Gibraltar. Her mother is dead. Neither was present at your marriage; +how, then, could they approve?" + +Gascoigne did not answer. + +"On your first arrival you were well provided with funds--the +proceeds, no doubt, of some nefarious scheme; a run of luck at the +tables; the plunder of some pigeon--" + +"The price of my commission in the English Army." + +"Bah! You never were in the English Army." + +"I can prove it." + +"I shall not believe you. Being in funds, I say, you lived riotously, +stayed at one of the best hotels, kept a landau and pair, dined at the +Trois Frères and the Rocher de Cancale, frequented the theatres; +madame wore the most expensive toilettes. But you presently ran short +of cash." + +"It's not surprising. But I presume I was at liberty to do what I +liked with my own." + +"Coming to the end of your resources," went on the judge, coldly +ignoring the sneer, "you tried the gaming-table again, with varying +success. You went constantly to the Hôtel Paradis--" + +"On the contrary, occasionally, not often." + +"You were there last night; it is useless to deny it. We have the +deposition of the proprietor, who is well known to the police--M. +Hippolyte Ledantec; you shall be confronted with him." + +"Is he in custody?" asked Gascoigne, eagerly. + +"I tell you it is not your place to question." + +"He ought to be. It was he who committed the murder." + +"You know there was a murder, then? Curious. When the body was +discovered by the porter there was no one present. How could you know +of the crime unless you had a hand in it?" + +"I saw it committed. I tried my best to save the Baron, but Ledantec +stabbed him before I could interpose." + +"An ingenious attempt to shift the guilt; but it will not serve. We +know better." + +"I am prepared to swear it was Ledantec. Why should I attack the +Baron? I owed him no grudge." + +"Why? I will tell you. For some time past, as I have reminded you, +your funds have been running low, fortune has been against you at the +tables, and you could not correct it at the Hôtel Paradis as you do +with less clever players--" + +"You are taking an unfair advantage of your position, Monsieur le +Juge. Any one else who dared accuse me of cheating--" + +"Bah! no heroics. You could not correct fortune, I say; yet money you +must have. The hotel-keeper was pressing for his long-unpaid account. +Madame, your smart wife, was dissatisfied; she made you scenes because +you refused her money; in return, you ill-used her." + +"It is false! My wife has always received proper consideration at my +hands." + +"You ill-used her, ill-treated her; we have it from herself." + +"Do you know, then, where she is?" interrupted Gascoigne, with so +much eagerness that it was plain he had taken his wife's defection +greatly to heart. "Why has she left me? With whom? I have always +suspected that villain Ledantec; he is an arch scoundrel, a very +devil!" + +"The reasons for your wife's disappearance are sufficiently explained +by this letter." + +"To me?" said Gascoigne, stretching out his hand for it. + +"To you, but impounded by us. It was found, in our search of your +apartments yesterday, placed in a prominent place upon your +dressing-table." + +"Give it me--it is mine!" + +"No! but you shall hear what it says. Listen:-- + +"'I could have borne with resignation the miserable part you have +imposed upon me. After luring me from my home with dazzling offers, +after promising me a life of luxury and splendid ease, you rudely, +cruelly dispelled the illusion, and made it plain to me that I had +shared the lot of a pauper. All this I could have borne--poverty, +however distasteful, but not the infamy, the degradation, of being the +partner and associate of your evil deeds. Sooner than fall so low I +prefer to leave you for ever. Do not seek for me. I have done with +you. All is at an end between us!'" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MOUSETRAP. + + +"Well," said the judge, when he had finished reading, "you see what +your wife thinks of you. What do you say now?" + +"There is not a word of truth in that letter. It is a tissue of +misstatements from beginning to end. You must place no reliance upon +it." + +"There you must allow me to differ from you. This letter is, in my +belief, perfectly genuine. It supplies a most important link in the +chain of evidence, and I shall give it the weight it deserves. But +enough--will you still deny your guilt?" + +"It is Ledantec's doing," said Gascoigne, following out a line of +thought of his own. "She was nothing loth, perhaps, for he has been +instilling insidious poison into her ears for these weeks past. I had +my suspicions, but could prove nothing; now I know. It was for this, +to put money in his purse for her extravagance, that he first robbed, +then struck down the baron." + +"Why do you still persist in this shallow line of defence? You cannot +deceive me; it would be far better to make a clean breast of it at +once." + +"I have already told you all I know. I repeat, I saw Ledantec strike +the blow." + +"Psha! this is puerile. I will be frank with you. We have the fullest +and strongest evidence of your guilt--why, then, will you not confess +it?" + +"I have nothing to confess; I am perfectly innocent. I was the poor +man's friend, not his murderer. I tried hard to save him, but, +unhappily, I was too late." + +"You will not confess?" + +A flush of anger rose to Gascoigne's cheek; his eyes flashed with the +indignation he felt at being thus bullied and browbeaten; his lips +quivered, but still he made no reply. + +"Come! you have played this comedy long enough," said the judge, his +manner growing more insolent, his look more threatening. "Will you, or +will you not, confess?" + +Gascoigne met his gaze resolutely, but with a dogged, obstinate +silence, the result of a firm determination not to utter a word. + +"This is unbearable," said the judge, angrily, after having repeated +his question several times without eliciting any reply. "Take him +away! Let him be kept in complete isolation, in one of the separate +cells of the Mousetrap--the Souricière." + +At a signal from within the police entered, resumed charge of the +prisoner, and escorted him, by many winding passages, down a steep +staircase to an underground passage, ending in a dungeon-like room, +badly lighted by one small, heavily-barred window, through which no +glimpse of the sky was seen. + +Here he was left alone, and for a long time utterly neglected. No one +came near him till late in the day, when he was brought a basin of +thin soup and a hunch of coarse ammunition bread. He spoke to his +jailers, asking for more and better food, but obtained no reply. He +asked them for paper, pens, and ink; he wished, he said, to make a +full statement of his case to the British Embassy, and demand its +protection. Still no reply. Maddened by this contemptuous treatment, +and despairing almost of justice, he begged, entreated the warder to +take pity on him, to tell him at least how long they meant to keep him +there in such terrible solitude, cut off altogether from the advice +and assistance of friends. The warder shook his head stolidly, and at +length broke silence, but only to say, "It is by superior order," then +left him. + +Gascoigne passed a terrible night, the second night in durance, but +far worse than the first. He was torn now with apprehensions as to his +fate; circumstances seemed so much against him; the facts, as stated +by the judge, might be grossly misrepresented; but how was he to +dispute them? There was no justice in this miserable country, with +such a partial and one-sided system of law. He began to fear that his +life was in their hands; already he felt his head on the block, under +the shadow of the awful guillotine. + +Nor were his personal terrors the only nightmare that visited and oppressed +him. He was harassed, tortured, by the shameless conduct of his wife; of +the woman for whom he had sacrificed everything--profession, fortune, name, +the affection of relatives, the respect of friends. With base, +black-hearted perfidy, she had deserted him for another, had plotted +against him, had helped to bring him into his present terrible straits. + +Once again they awoke him, unrefreshed, from the deep sleep haunted by +such hideous dreams. He was told to dress himself and come out. At the +door of his cell the same escort--two police-agents--awaited him. + +"Where are you taking me? Again before that hateful judge?" + +"Monsieur had better speak more respectfully," replied one of them, in +a warning voice. + +"It is no use, I tell you, his interrogating me. I have nothing more +to say." + +"Silence!" cried the other, "and march." + +They led him along the passage and upstairs, but not, as before, to +the judge's cabinet. Turning aside, they passed on one side of it, and +out into the open air. There was a cab drawn up close to the door, the +prisoner was ordered to get in, one police-agent taking his seat +alongside, the other mounting on the box. The glasses were drawn up, +and the cab drove rapidly away. + +"Where are you taking me?" asked Gascoigne. + +"You will see," replied his conductor, coldly. + +"To another prison?" + +"Silence! A prisoner is not permitted to enter into conversation with +his guard." + +Thus rebuffed, Gascoigne resigned himself to gazing mournfully through +the windows as the cab rattled along. He did not know this quarter of +Paris well, but he could see that they were passing along one of the +quays of the Ile de la Cité. He could see the houses on the opposite +bank, and knew from the narrowness of the river that it was not the +main stream of the Seine. It was still early morning; the streets were +not as yet very crowded, but as the cab entered a wide square it came +upon a throng issuing from the portals of a large church, the +congregation that had been attending some celebration at Notre Dame. +He recognised the church as he passed it, still driving, however, by +the quays. Then they came to a low building, with a dirty, ill-kept, +unpretentious doorway. The cab passed through into an inner court, +stopped, and Gascoigne was ordered to alight. + +The police-agents, one on each side of him, took him to a rather large +but dirty, squalid-looking room, which might have been part of an +old-clothes shop. All round, hanging from pegs, each neatly ticketed +with its own number, were sets of garments, male and female, of every +description: rags and velvets, a common blouse and good broadcloth, +side by side. + +At a small common table in the centre of the room sat Gascoigne's +judge, with the same cold face, only darkened now by a frown. + +"Once more," he said, abruptly--"will you confess your crime?" + +Gascoigne looked at him contemptuously, but held his tongue. + +"Do you still refuse? Do you still obstinately persist in remaining +dumb? Very well, we shall see." + +The judge got up from his chair, and disappeared through a side-door. + +After a short pause, Gascoigne's escort bade him march, and the three +followed through the same door. + +They entered a second chamber, smaller than the first, the uses of +which were at once obvious to Gascoigne, although he had never been +there before. It was like a low shed or workroom, lighted from above, +perfectly plain--even bald--in its decoration, but in the centre, +occupying the greater part of the space, and leaving room only for a +passage around, was a large flat slab of marble, something like that +seen in fishmongers' shops. The similarity was maintained by the sound +of water constantly flowing and falling upon the marble slab, as +though to keep it and its burden always fresh and cool. + +But that burden! Three corpses, stark naked but for a decent +waistband, were laid out upon the marble table. One was that of a +child who had been fished up from the Seine that morning; the second +that of a stonemason who had fallen from a scaffolding and broken his +neck and both legs; the third was the murdered man of the Hôtel +Paradis, the Baron d'Enot, stripped of his well-made clothes, lying +stark and stiff on his back, with the great knife-wound gaping red and +festering in his breast. + +"There!" cried the judge, triumphantly, leaning forward to scrutinise +narrowly the effect of this hideous confrontation upon the prisoner. + +To his bitter disappointment, this carefully prepared theatrical +effect, so frequently practised and so often successful with French +criminals, altogether failed with Gascoigne. The Englishman certainly +had started at the first sight of the corpse, but it was a natural +movement of horror which might have escaped any unconcerned spectator +at being brought into the presence of death in such a hideous form. +After betraying this first and not unnatural sign of emotion, +Gascoigne remained perfectly cool, self-possessed, and unperturbed. + +"You see your victim there; now will you confess?" cried the judge, +almost passionately. + +"Ledantec's victim, not mine," replied Gascoigne, quietly. Then, as if +in apology to himself, he added, "I could not help speaking, but I +shall say nothing more." + +"He is very strong, extraordinarily strong!" cried the judge, his rage +giving place to admiration at the obstinate fortitude of his +prisoner. "In all my experience"--this was to the police and the chief +custodian of the Morgue--"I have never come across a more +cold-blooded, cynical wretch; but he shall not beat me; he shall not +outrage and set the law at defiance; we will bend his spirit yet. Take +him back to the Mousetrap; he shall stay there until he chooses to +speak." + +With this unfair threat, which was tantamount to a sentence of +unlimited imprisonment, the judge dismissed his prisoner. + +Gascoigne was marched back to the cab; the police-agents ordered him +to re-enter it; one of them took his seat by his side as before, the +other remounted the box. Then the cab started on its journey back to +the Préfecture. + +Gascoigne, silent, pre-occupied, and outwardly calm, was yet inwardly +consumed with a fierce though impotent rage. He was indignant at the +shameful treatment he had received. To be arraigned as a criminal +prematurely, his guilt taken for granted on the testimony of unseen +witnesses whose evidence he had no chance of rebutting--all this, so +intolerable to the spirit of British justice, revolted him and +outraged his sense of fair play. + +Yet what could he do? He was without redress. They had denied him his +right of appeal to his ambassador; he was forbidden to communicate +with his friends. There seemed no hope for him, no chance of justice, +no loophole of escape. + +Stay! Escape? + +As the thought flashed quickly across his brain it lingered, taking +practical shape. Surely it was worth his while to make an effort, to +strike one bold blow for liberty now, before it was too late! + +He quickly cast up the chances for and against. The cab was following +the line of quays as before, but along the northern bank of the +island, that bordering the main stream. It was going at little better +than a foot's pace; the door next which he sat was on the side of the +river. What if he knocked his guardian senseless, striking him a +couple of British blows--one, two, straight from the shoulder--then, +flinging open the door, spring out, and over the parapet into the +swift-flowing Seine? He was an excellent swimmer; once in the water, +surely he might trust to his luck! + +These were the arguments in his favour. Against him were the chances +that his companion might show fight; that he might check his +prisoner's exit until his comrade on the box could come to the rescue; +or that some officious bystander might act on the side of the law; or +that a shot might drop him as he fled; or, finally, and most probably +of all, that he might be drowned in the turbulent stream. + +Gascoigne was not long in coming to a decision. "Nothing venture, +nothing have," was his watchword. At this moment the cab was near the +end of the Quai aux Fleurs, near the Pont d'Arcole. There was no time +to be lost; at any moment it might turn down from the river, taking +one of the cross streets. Setting his teeth firmly, and nerving +himself for a supreme effort, Gascoigne sprang suddenly upon the +police-agent, twisted his hands inside the stiff stock, and, having +thus nearly throttled him, felled him with two tremendous blows. + +With a groan, the man fell to the bottom of the cab; the next instant +Gascoigne had opened the door and dropped into the roadway. + +The escape was observed by one or two passers-by; but they were +evidently people who owed the police no good-will, for, although they +stood still to watch the fugitive, they did not give the alarm. This +came first from the policeman who had been assaulted, who, recovering +quickly from the attack, roared lustily to his fellow for help. The +cab stopped, the officials alighted hurriedly, and looking to right +and left caught sight of Gascoigne as he stood upon the parapet and +made his plunge into the river. Both rushed to the spot, pistol in +hand. + +Down below was the figure of their escaped prisoner battling with the +rapid stream. Both fired, almost simultaneously, and one at least must +have hit the mark. + +Gascoigne's body turned over and then sank, leaving a small crimson +stain upon the water. + +Was he killed? Drowned? That is what no one could tell; but it was +certain that no corpse answering the Englishman's description was ever +recovered from the river; nor, on the other hand, did the police, in +spite of an active pursuit, lay hands on their prisoner again alive. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A SPIDER'S WEB. + + +Some half a dozen years after the occurrences just recorded there was +a great gathering one night at Essendine House, a palatial mansion +occupying the whole angle of a great London square. The +reception-rooms upon the first floor, five of them, and all _en +suite_, and gorgeously decorated in white and gold, were brilliantly +lighted and thrown open to the best of London society. Lady Essendine +was at home to her friends, and seemingly she had plenty of them, for +the place was thronged. + +The party was by way of being musical--that is to say, a famous +pianist had been engaged to let off a lot of rockets from his +finger-tips, and a buffo singer from the opera roared out his "Figaro +la, Figaro quà," with all the strength of his brazen lungs; while one +or two gifted amateurs sang glees in washed-out, apologetical +accents, which were nearly lost in the din of the room. + +But there was yet another singer, whose performance was attended with +rather more display. It was preluded by a good deal of whispering and +nodding of heads. Lady Essendine posed as a charitable person, always +anxious to do good, and this singer was a _protégée_ of hers--an +interesting but unfortunate foreigner in very reduced circumstances, +whom she had discovered by accident, and to whom she was most anxious +to give a helping hand. + +"A sweet creature," she had said quite audibly that evening, although +the object of her remarks was at her elbow. "A most engaging person; +poor thing, when I found her she was almost destitute. Wasn't it sad?" + +"Quite pretty, too," her friends had remarked, also ignoring the near +neighbourhood of the singer. + +It did not seem to matter much. The stranger sat there calmly, proudly +unconscious of all that was said about her. Pretty!--the epithet was +well within the mark. Beautiful, rather--magnificently, splendidly +beautiful, with a noble presence and almost queenly air. Her small, +exquisitely-proportioned head, crowned with a coronet of deep chestnut +hair, was well poised upon a long, slender neck; she had a refined, +aristocratic face, with clear-cut features, a well-shaped, aquiline +nose, with slender nostrils; a perfect mouth, great lustrous dark +eyes, with brows and lashes rather darker than her hair. Her teeth +were perfect--perhaps she knew it, for her lower lip hung down a +little, constantly displaying their pearly whiteness, and adding +somewhat to the decided outline of the firm well-rounded chin. + +Seated, her beauty claimed attention; but her appearance was still +more attractive when she stood up and moved across the room, to take +her seat at the piano. Her figure was tall and commanding, full, yet +faultless in outline, as that of one in the prime of ripe, rich +womanhood, and its perfect proportions were fully set off by her +close-fitting but perfectly plain black dress. + +A little hum of approval greeted her from this well-bred audience as +she sat down and swept her fingers with a flourish over the keys. +Then, without further prelude, she sang a little French song in a +pleasing, musical voice, without much compass, but well trained; +before the applause ended she broke into a Spanish ballad, tender and +passionate, which gained her still greater success; and thus accepted +and approved amidst continual cries of "Brava!" and "Encore!" she was +not allowed to leave her seat until she had sung at least a dozen +times. + +When she arose from the piano Lady Essendine went up to her, +patronising and gracious. + +"Oh! thank you so much. I don't know when I have heard anything so +charming." + +Other ladies followed suit, and, amidst the general cries of approval, +the beautiful singer was engaged a dozen deep to sing at other great +houses in the town. + +Presently they pressed her to perform again. Was she not paid for it? +No one, Lady Essendine least of all, thought for one moment of her +_protégée's_ fatigue, and the poor singer might have worked on till +she fainted from exhaustion had not the son of the house interposed. + +"You must be tired, mademoiselle," said Lord Lydstone, coming up to +the piano. "Surely you would like a little refreshment? Let me take +you to the tea-room," and, offering his arm, he led her away, despite +his mother's black looks and frowns of displeasure. + +"Lydstone is so impulsive," she whispered to the first confidant she +could find. It was Colonel Wilders, one of the family--a poor +relation, in fact, commonly called by them "Cousin Bill"--a hale, +hearty, middle-aged man, with grey hair he was not ashamed of, but +erect and vigorous, with a soldierly air. "I wish he would not +advertise himself with such a person in this way." + +"A monstrously handsome person!" cried the blunt soldier, evidently +cordially endorsing Lord Lydstone's taste. + +"That's not the question, Colonel Wilders; it was not my son's place +to take her to the tea-room, and I am much annoyed. Will you, to +oblige me, go and tell Lydstone I want to speak to him?" + +Cousin Bill, docile and obsequious, hurried off to execute her +ladyship's commission. He found the pair chatting pleasantly together +in a corner of the deserted tea-room, and delivered his message. + +"Oh, bother!" cried Lord Lydstone undutifully. "What can mother want +with me?" + +"You had better go to her," said the colonel, who was a little afraid +of his cousin, the female head of the house. "I will take your place +here--that is to say, if mademoiselle will permit me." + +"Madame," corrected Lord Lydstone, who had been already put right +himself. "Let me introduce you. Madame Cyprienne--my cousin, Colonel +Wilders, of the Royal Rangers. I hope we shall hear you sing again +to-night, unless you are too tired." + +"I shall do whatever _miladi_ wishes," said Madame Cyprienne, in a +deep but musical voice, with a slight foreign accent. "It is for her +to command, me to obey. She has been very kind, you know," she went on +to Colonel Wilders, who had taken Lydstone's seat by her side. "But +for her I should have starved." + +"Dear me! how sad," said the colonel. "Was it so bad as that? How did +it happen. Was M. Cyprienne unlucky?" + +She did not answer; and the colonel, wondering, looked up, to find her +fine eyes filled with tears. + +"How stupid of me! What an idiot I am! Of course, your husband is--" + +She pointed to her black dress, edged with crape, but said nothing. + +"Yes, yes! I quite understand. Pray forgive me," stammered the +colonel, and there followed an awkward pause. + +"Mine is a sad story," she said at length, in a sorrowful tone. "I was +left suddenly alone, unprotected, without resources, in this strange +country--to fight my own battle, to earn a crust of bread by my own +exertions, or starve." + +"Dear, dear!" said the colonel, his sympathies fully aroused. + +"I should have starved, but for Lady Essendine. She heard of me. I was +trying to dispose of some lace--some very old Spanish point. You are a +judge of lace, monsieur?" + +"Of course, of course!" said the colonel, although, as a matter of +fact, he did not know Spanish point from common _écru_. + +"This was some lace that had been in our family for generations. You +must understand we were not always as you see me--poor; we belong to +the old nobility. My husband was highly born, but when he died I +dropped the title and became Madame Cyprienne. It was better, don't +you think?" + +"Perhaps so; I am not sure," replied the colonel, hardly knowing what +to say. + +"It was. The idea of a countess a pauper, begging her bread!" + +"What was your title, may I ask?" inquired the colonel, eagerly. These +tender confidences, accompanied by an occasional encouraging glance +from her bright eyes, were rapidly increasing the interest he took in +her. + +"I am the Countess de Saint Clair," replied Madame Cyprienne, proudly; +"but I do not assume the title now. I do not choose it to be known +that I live by singing, and by selling the remnants of our family +lace." + +"I hope Lady Essendine paid you a decent price," said the colonel, +pleasantly. + +Madame Cyprienne shook her head, with a little laugh-- + +"She has been very kind--exceedingly kind--but she knows how to drive +a bargain: all women do." + +"What a shame! And have you sold it all? You had better entrust me +with the disposal of the rest." + +"Oh! Colonel Wilders, I could not think of giving you so much +trouble." + +"But I will; I should like to. Send it to me. My chambers are in Ryder +Street; or, better still, I will call for it if you will tell me +where," said the colonel, artfully. + +"I am lodging in a very poor place, not at all such as the Countess de +Saint Clair should receive in. But I am not ashamed of it; it is in +Frith Street, Soho, NO. 29A; but I do not think you ought to +come there." + +"A most delightful part of the town," said the colonel, who at the +moment would have approved of Whitechapel or the New Cut. "When shall +I call?" + +"In the afternoon. In the morning I am engaged in giving lessons. But +come, we have lingered here long enough. _Miladi_ will expect me to +sing again." + +Lady Essendine frowned at Cousin Bill when he brought back her singer; +but whether it was at the length of the talk, or the withdrawal of her +_protégée_ from the duties for which she was paid, her ladyship did +not condescend to explain. It was a little of both. She was pleased to +have hindered her son from paying marked attention to a person in +Madame Cyprienne's doubtful position. Now she found that person +exercising her fascinations upon Colonel Wilders, and it annoyed her, +although Cousin Bill was surely old enough to take care of himself. +Already she was changing her opinion concerning the fair singer she +had introduced into the London world. She could not fail to notice the +admiration Madame Cyprienne generally received, especially from the +men, and she doubted whether she had done wisely in taking her by the +hand. + +A few days later she had no doubt at all. To her disgust, all the old +Spanish point-lace was gone; and Madame Cyprienne had told her plainly +that it was her own fault for haggling over the price. Her ladyship's +disgust was heightened when she found the best piece of all--a +magnificent white mantilla--in the possession of a rival leader of +fashion, who refused to say where she had got it, or how. + +She set her emissaries at work, however--for every great London lady +has a dozen devoted, unpaid _attachés_, ready to do any little +commission of this kind--and the lace was traced back to Colonel +Wilders. + +"My dear," she said, one morning, to her lord, "I am afraid Colonel +Wilders is very intimate with that Madame Cyprienne." + +"Our eccentric Cousin Bill! You don't say so? Well, there's no fool +like an old fool," said Lord Essendine, who was a very matter-of-fact, +plain-spoken peer. + +"I always thought she was an adventuress," cried Lady Essendine, +angrily. + +"Then why did you take her up so hotly? But for you, no one would ever +have heard of the woman, least of all Cousin Bill." + +"Well, I have done with her now. I shall drop her." + +"The mischief's done. Unless I am much mistaken, she won't drop Cousin +Bill." + +Lord Essendine, who was, perhaps, behind the scenes, was not wrong in +his estimate of the influence Madame Cyprienne exercised. Before six +months were out, Colonel Wilders came, with rather a sheepish air, to +the head of the house, and informed him of his approaching marriage to +the Countess de Saint Clair. + +"That's a new title to me, Bill. Foreign, I suppose?" Lord Essendine +had the usual contempt of the respectable Briton for titles not +mentioned in Debrett or Burke. + +"It's French, I fancy; and for the moment it is in abeyance. Madame +Cyprienne tells me--" + +"Gracious powers, William Wilders! have you fallen into that woman's +clutches?" + +"I must ask you, Lord Essendine, to speak more respectfully of the +lady I propose to make my wife." + +"You had better not! I warn you while there is yet time." + +"What do you know against her?" asked the colonel, hotly. + +"What do you know of or for her?" replied the peer, quickly. "I tell +you, man, it's a disgrace to the family. Lady Essendine will be +furious. If I had any authority over you I would forbid the marriage. +In any case," he went on, "do not look for any countenance or support +from me." + +"I hope we shall be able to get on without your assistance, Lord +Essendine. I thought it my duty to inform you of my marriage, and I +think I might have been better received." + +"Stay, you idiot; don't go off in a huff. I don't like the match, I +tell you frankly; but I don't want to quarrel. Is there anything I can +do for you, except attending the wedding? I won't do that." + +Colonel Wilders could not bring himself to ask any favours of his +unsympathetic kinsman. Nevertheless, it was through Lord Essendine's +interest that he obtained a snug staff appointment in one of the large +garrison towns; and he did not return indignantly the very handsome +cheque paid in by his cousin to his account as a wedding present. + +He was still serving at Chatsmouth, his young and beautiful wife the +life of the gay garrison, when the war-clouds gathered dark upon the +horizon, and, thanks again to the Essendine interest, he found himself +transferred, still on the staff, to the expeditionary army under +orders for the East. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE WAR FEVER. + + +They were stirring times, those early days of '54. After half a +century of peace the shadow of a great contest loomed dark and near. +The whole British nation, sick and tired of Russian double-dealing, +was eager to cut the knot of political difficulty with the sword. +Everyone was mad to fight; only a few optimists, statesmen mostly, +still relying on the sedative processes of diplomacy, had any hopes of +averting war. A race reputed peace-loving, but most pugnacious when +roused, was stirred now to its very depths. British hearts beat high +throughout the length and breadth of the land, proudly mindful of +their former prowess and manfully hopeful of emulating former glorious +deeds. + +It was the same wherever Englishmen gathered under the old flag; in +every corner of the world peopled by offshoots from the old stock, +most of all in those strongholds and dependencies beyond sea captured +in the old wars, and still held by our arms. + +It was so upon the great Rock, the commonly counted impregnable +fortress, one of the ancient pillars of Hercules that still stands +silently strong and watchful at the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea. + +Nowhere did the war fever rage higher than at Gibraltar. Before +everything, a garrison town, battlemented and fortified on every side, +resonant from morning gunfire till watch-setting with martial sounds, +its principal pageants military, with soldiers filling its streets, +and sentinels at every corner, the prospect of active service was +naturally the one theme and topic of the place. + +As spring advanced, one of those balmy-scented Southern springs when +flowers highly prized with us blossomed wild everywhere, even in the +fissures of the rock--when the days are already long and bright, under +ever-blue and cloudless skies, Gibraltar realised more fully that war +was close at hand. Lying in the high road to the East, it saw daily +the armed strength of England sweep proudly by. Now a squadron of +men-of-war: not the hideous, shapeless ironclad of to-day, but the +traditional three-decker, with its tiers of snarling teeth and its +beauty of white-bellying canvas and majestic spar. Now a troopship +with its consorts, two, or three, or more, tightly packed with their +living cargo--whole regiments of red-coated soldiers on their way to +Malta and beyond. + +Such sights as these kept the garrison--friends and comrades of those +bound eastward--in a state of constant high-pitched excitement. At +first, forbidden by strict quarantine, there was no communication +between the sea and the shore, but all day long there were crowds of +idlers ready to line the sea-wall and greet every ship that came in +close enough with hearty repeated cheers. When the vexatious +health-rules were relaxed, and troopships landed some of their +passengers, there was endless fraternisation, eager discussion of +coming operations, and unlimited denunciation of the common foe. + +Members of the garrison itself were, of course, frantically jealous of +all who had the better luck to belong to the expeditionary force. That +they were not under orders for the East was the daily burden of +complaint in every barrack-room and guard-house upon the Rock. The +British soldier is an inveterate grumbler; he quarrels perpetually +with his quarters, his food, his clothing, and his general want of +luck. Just now the bad luck of being refused a share in an arduous +campaign, with its attendant chances of hardships, sufferings, perhaps +a violent death, made every soldier condemned to remain in safety at +Gibraltar discontented and sore at heart. + +"No orders for us by the last mail, Hyde," said a young sergeant of +the Royal Picts, as he walked briskly up to the entrance of the +Waterport Guard. + +A tall, well-grown, clean-limbed young fellow of twenty-four or five: +one who prided himself on being a smart soldier, and fully deserved +the name. He was admirably turned out; his coatee with wings, showing +that he belonged to one of the flank companies, fitted him to +perfection; the pale blue trousers, the hideous fashion of the day, +for which Prince Albert was said to be responsible, were carefully +cut; his white belts were beautifully pipe-clayed, and the use of +pipe-clay was at that time an art; you could see your face in the +polish of his boots. A smart soldier, and as fine-looking a young +fellow as wore the Queen's uniform in 1854. He had an open, honest +face, handsome withal; clear bright grey eyes, broad forehead, and a +firm mouth and chin. + +"Worrying yourself, as usual, for permission to have your throat cut. +Can't you bide your time, Sergeant McKay?" + +The answer came from another sergeant of the same regiment, an elder, +sterner man--a veteran evidently, for he wore two medals for Indian +campaigns, and his bronzed, weather-beaten face showed that he had +seen service in many climes. As a soldier he was in no wise inferior +to his comrade: his uniform and appointments were as clean and +correct, but he lacked the extra polish--the military dandyism, so to +speak--of the younger man. + +"War is our regular trade. Isn't it natural we should want to be at +it?" said Sergeant McKay. + +"You talk like a youngster who doesn't know what it's like," replied +Sergeant Hyde. "I've seen something of campaigning, and it's rough +work at the best, even in India, where soldiers are as well off as +officers here." + +"Officers!" said McKay, rather bitterly. "They have the best of it +everywhere." + +"Hush! don't be an insubordinate young idiot," interposed his comrade, +hastily. "Here come two of them." + +The sergeants sprang hastily to their feet, and, standing strictly to +attention, saluted their superiors in proper military form. + +"That's what I hate," went on McKay. + +"Then you are no true soldier, and don't know what proper discipline +means. They are as much bound to salute us as we them." + +"Yes, but they don't." + +"That's their want of manners; so much the worse for them. Besides, I +am quite sure Mr. Wilders didn't mean it; he is far too good an +officer--always civil-spoken, too, and considerate to the men." + +"I object to saluting him more than any one else." + +"Why, McKay! what's the matter with you? What particular fault have +you to find with Mr. Wilders?" + +"I am just as good as he is." + +"In your own opinion, perhaps; not in that of this garrison--certainly +not under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War." + +"I am just as good. I am his cousin--" + +Sergeant McKay stopped suddenly, bit his lip, and flushed very red. + +"So you have let the cat out of the bag at last, my young friend," +said Sergeant Hyde, quietly. "I always thought this--that you were a +gentleman--" + +"Superior to my station, in fact." + +"By no means, Sergeant McKay. I should be sorry to admit that any man, +however highly born, had lost his right to be deemed a gentleman +because he is a sergeant in the Royal Picts." + +"You, Hyde, are a gentleman too. I am sure of that." + +"I am a sergeant in the Royal Picts. That is enough for me and for +you." + +"Why did you enlist?" + +Hyde shook his head gravely. + +"There are pages in every man's life," he said, "which he does not +care to lift again when they are once turned down. I have not asked +you for your secret; respect mine." + +"But I have nothing to conceal," said McKay, quickly. "I am ready +enough to tell you why I enlisted." + +"As you please; but, mind, I have not asked you." + +There was little encouragement in this speech; but McKay ignored it, +and went on-- + +"I enlisted because I could not enter the army in any other way. My +friends could not afford to purchase me a commission." + +"Why were you so wild to become a soldier?" + +"It was my father's profession. He was a captain in--" + +"That should have given you a claim for an ensigncy, as an officer's +son." + +"But my father was not in the English service. He was only half an +Englishman, really." + +"Indeed! How so?" + +"Although Scotch by extraction, as our name will tell you, my father +was born in Poland. He was a Russian subject, and as such was +compelled to serve in the Russian army." + +"For long?" + +"Until he was mixed in an unfortunate national movement, and only +escaped execution by flight. He lived afterwards at Geneva. It was +there he met my mother." + +"Is it through him or her that you are related to the Wilders?" + +"Through my mother. She was daughter of the Honourable Anastasius, son +of the twelfth earl." + +"And what might be the distinguishing numeral of the present Essendine +potentate?" + +"He is fourteenth earl." + +"Then he and your mother are first cousins?" + +"Quite so; and I am his first cousin once removed." + +"Ah! that is very nice for you," said old Hyde, with a tinge of +contempt in his tone. "They're not much use to you though, these fine +relations. Surely Lord Essendine could have got you a commission by +holding up his hand?" + +"That's just what he would not do, and why I hate him and the whole of +the Wilders family. Lord Essendine has never recognised us." + +"Why? Is there any reason?" + +"The Honourable Anastasius made a poor match, married against his +father's wish, and was cut off with a shilling. His brother, the next +earl, was disposed to make it up, but my grandfather died, and my +grandmother married again--an honest sea-captain--and the noble peer +cut her dead." + +"And so you joined the Royal Picts. But I wonder you came to this +regiment to serve with your cousin." + +"I enlisted, you know, a couple of years before he was gazetted to the +corps." + +"Do they know you took the shilling?--that you are now a +colour-sergeant in the Royal Picts?" + +"I don't think they are aware of my existence even." + +"Well, never mind. Don't be cast down. The time may come when they +will be proud to recognise you. It all depends upon yourself?" + +"I will do all I know to force them, you may be sure." + +"And you will have your chance, in a great war like this which is +coming. Everything is possible to a man whose heart is in the right +place. You have pluck and spirit." + +The young fellow's eyes flashed. + +"Trust me, Hyde; I sha'n't flinch, if I only get the chance." + +"You are well educated; you can draw; you have picked up Spanish since +you have been here; and I suppose you inherit a taste for languages +from your Polish father?" + +"I don't know; at any rate, I can talk French fluently, and I speak +Russian of course." + +"Why, man! the game is positively in your own hands. You are bound to +get on: mark my words." + +"Not if we stay here, Hyde, keeping guard upon this old Rock and +losing all the fun. Can you wonder why I am so anxious the regiment +should get the route?" + +"It will come, never fear. They will want every soldier that carries a +musket before this war is over, or I'm a much-mistaken man. Only have +patience." + +"How can I? I am eating my heart out, Hyde." + +"Was it to tell me this you came down here? What brings you to +Waterport this morning? Only to gossip with me?" + +"That, and something more. I am on duty, detailed as orderly sergeant +to one of the Expeditionary Generals; he is just going to land from a +yacht in the bay." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes, Wilders--another of my fine cousins. You can understand now why +I am so bitter against my relations to-day: there are too many of them +about." + +"I suppose that is what's brought our Mr. Wilders here to-day--to meet +his cousin." + +"And his brother; for they are on board Lord Lydstone's yacht." + +"They! How many of them?" + +"General Wilders has his wife with him, I believe, accompanying him to +the East." + +"Old idiot! Why couldn't he leave her at home? Women are in the way at +these times. Soldiers have no business with wives." + +"That's why you never married, I suppose?" + +Hyde did not answer his question, but got up and left his comrade +abruptly, to re-enter the guard-room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ON DANGEROUS GROUND. + + +The _Arcadia_, Lord Lydstone's yacht, was a fine three-masted schooner +of a couple of hundred tons. She was lying far out in the bay, amidst +a crowd of shipping of every kind--coal-hulks, black and grimy; H.M.S. +_Samarang_, receiving-ship, and home of the captain of the port; +British vessels, steamers and sailing-ships, of every rig; foreign +craft of every aspect native to its waters: zebecques, faluchas, and +polaccas, with their curved spars and heavy lateen sails. + +A fleet of small boats surrounded the yacht, native boats of curious +build, and manned by dark-skinned natives of the Rock, in nondescript +attire--a noisy, pushing, quarrelsome lot, eager to do business, +gesticulating wildly, and jabbering loudly in many strange tongues. +Here was a pure Spaniard, with a red sash round his waist, and a +velvet cap, round as a cartwheel, on his head, with a boatful of +vegetables and early fruit. There was a grave and sedate Moor, in +green turban and white flowing robes, with an assortment of +gold-braided slippers and large brass trays. Next a Maltese +milk-seller, in scanty garments, nothing but short canvas trousers and +a shirt, who had come with cans full of goats'-milk from the herds he +kept on the barren slopes of the Rock. Not far off was the galley of +the health-officer, with a crew of "scorpion" boatmen in neat white +jackets and straw hats. + +On the deck of the yacht, under an awning--for the spring sun already +beat down hotly at noon--were the owner and his guests. Lord Lydstone, +cigar in mouth, lounged lazily upon a heap of rugs and cushions at the +feet of Mrs. Wilders, who took her ease luxuriantly in a comfortable +cane arm-chair. + +Blanche Cyprienne, Countess of St. Clair, had changed little since her +marriage. Her beauty had gained rather than lost; her manner was more +commanding, her look more haughty. Her fine eyes flashed insolently, +or were veiled in lazy disdain, and her voice spoke scornfully or +drawled with careless contempt, according to her mood. + +"So that is the Rock--the great Rock of Gibraltar," she was saying. +"What an extraordinary-looking place!" + +"You will say so, Countess, when you get on shore," said Lord +Lydstone. + +"Is there anything really to see?" she asked. "Is it worth the trouble +of landing?" + +"Why, of course! I thought it was all settled. The general sent some +hours ago to say he proposed to pay his respect to the Governor. You +cannot help yourself now." + +"Oh! the general," remarked Mrs. Wilders, as she was generally +styled--the title Countess was only used by intimate friends--in a +tone that implied she was not at all bound by her husband's plans. + +"Where is the good man just now?" inquired Lord Lydstone, in much the +same tone. + +"There, forward," said Mrs. Wilders, pointing to the part of the deck +beyond the awning. "Trying to get a sunstroke by walking about with +his head bare." + +"He does that on principle, Countess, don't you know. He wants to +harden his cranium, in case he loses his hat some day in action." + +"I hope he may never go into action. If he does, I should be sorry for +his men." + +"Not for him?" + +"That may be taken for granted," she replied, in a matter-of-fact way. + +"How fond you are of him! What devoted affection! It's lucky you have +little to spare!" + +"I keep it for the proper person." + +"Is there none for his relatives?" asked Lydstone, with a meaning +look. + +"Do any of them deserve my affection?" + +"I try very hard, Countess; and I should so value the smallest crumb." + +"Don't be foolish, Lord Lydstone! you must not try to make love to me; +it would be wrong. Besides, we are too nearly connected now." + +"You never throw me a single kind word, Blanche." + +"Certainly not. I won't have it on my conscience that I led you +astray, poor innocent lamb! A fine thing! What would your people say? +They're bitter enough against me as it is!" + +The Essendines had never properly acknowledged Colonel Wilders's +marriage, or treated his wife, the foreign countess, other than with +the coldest contempt. Lord Lydstone knew this, and knew too that his +mother was right; yet he could not defend her when this woman, whom he +admired still--too much, indeed, for his peace of mind--resented her +treatment. + +"Your mother has behaved disgracefully to me--that you must admit, +Lord Lydstone." + +"She is an old-fashioned, old-world lady, with peculiar straitlaced +notions of her own. But, if you please, we won't talk about her." + +"Why not? You cannot pretend that she was right in ignoring me, +flouting me, insulting me! Am I not your near relative's wife? Why, +Bill is only four off the title now." + +"One of them being your humble servant, who devoutly hopes that all +four will long interpose between him and the succession," said Lord +Lydstone, with a pleasant laugh. + +"I don't wish you any harm, of course; still it is as I say, and my +son--" + +"Aged two, and at present in England at nurse." + +"--May be the future Earl of Essendine." + +"He shan't be, if I can prevent it!" cried Lord Lydstone, gaily; "you +may rely on that. But, I say, here is a smart gig coming off from the +shore. I believe the Governor has sent his own barge for you. Here, +Bill! I say, Bill!" + +General Wilders came aft. + +"You had better put on your best clothes, general; they are coming to +fetch you in state." + +"I suppose, on this occasion only, you will wear a hat, Bill?" said +Mrs. Wilders. + +"I wish you would go down and get ready, my dear; we ought not to keep +the gig," said the general, as he himself went below to dress. + +"I am not so sure I shall go on shore at all," replied his wife. + +"No!" cried Lord Lydstone. "Throw the general over, and stay on board +with me." + +"That would be too great penance," said Mrs. Wilders, as she moved +towards the companion-ladder. "I've had enough of your lordship for +one day." + +Lydstone got up, looking rather vexed, and followed her across the +deck. When he was quite close to her side he whispered with suppressed +but manifest feeling-- + +"Why do you torture me so? Sometimes I think you care for me; +sometimes that you hate and detest me. What am I think?" + +"What you choose," she answered, in a low, quick voice, evidently much +displeased. "I have given you no right to speak to me in this way. Let +me pass, or I shall appeal to my lawful protector!" + +Presently Mrs. Wilders reappeared, dressed to perfection in some cool +light fabric, serene and smiling to everyone but Lord Lydstone. She +was especially gracious to young Mr. Wilders, who had come off in the +Governor's gig, and had been cordially welcomed by his brother. + +"Another cousin," said the general, introducing him. He was now in +uniform--the general--in uniform to suit his own fancy rather than the +regulations. The only orthodox articles of apparel were his twisted +general's scimitar and a forage-cap with a broad gold band. His coat +and waistcoat were of white cloth; he had a wide crimson sash round +his waist, and his lower limbs were encased in hunting-breeches and +long boots. "Anastasius, one of the Royal Picts." + +"All soldiers, you Wilders, all--except one." This was specially +intended to annoy Lydstone. "The future head of the house is kept in +cotton-wool; he is too precious, I suppose, to be risked." + +"It is not my fault," began Lydstone. It was a sore point with him +that he had not been permitted--in deference to his mother's fond +protests--to enter the army. + +"Are you not coming with us, Lydstone?" said his young brother, +greatly disappointed. "I did want to show you our mess." + +"I know Gibraltar by heart, and I have letters to write. I hope you +will enjoy yourself, Countess," he added, sarcastically, as they went +down the side. + +"There's no fear of that, now we have left you behind," replied Mrs. +Wilders, sharply. + +"Why can't you and Lydstone keep better friends?" said General +Wilders, a little shocked at this remark. + +"It's his fault, not mine, and that's enough about it," replied Mrs. +Wilders, rather petulantly. "Did you ever quarrel with your brother," +she went on to Anastasius, "when you were boys?" + +"I would not have dared. Not that I wanted to: we three brothers were +always the best of friends." + +"You are an affectionate family, Mr. Wilders; I have long been +convinced of that," said Mrs. Wilders, who could not leave the subject +alone. + +But now the gig, impelled by six stout oarsmen, was nearing the +Waterport Guard, and was already under the shadow of the frowning +batteries of the Devil's Tongue. High above them rose the sheer +straight wall of the rock, bristling with frowning fortifications, +line above line, and countless embrasures armed with heavy artillery. + +The wharf itself was crowded with the usual motley polyglot +gathering--sailors of all nations, soldiers of the garrison, Spanish +peasants from the neighbouring villages, native scorpions, policemen, +and inspectors of strangers. + +"How amusing! How interesting! It's like a scene in a play!" cried +Mrs. Wilders, as she stepped ashore. + +Escorted by her husband and cousin, they pushed their way through the +crowd towards the Waterport gateway, and under it into the main ditch. +As they approached there was a cry of "Guard, turn out!" and the +Waterport Guard, under its officer, fell in with open ranks to give +the general a salute. General Wilders acknowledged the compliment, +and, while he stood there with two fingers to his hat, Sergeant McKay +advanced and reported himself. + +"Your orderly, sir." + +"Eh! what?" said the general, a little surprised. "My orderly! Very +considerate of Sir Thomas," he went on. "One of the Royal Picts, too, +and a guard from the same regiment! Most attentive, I'm sure!" + +The general went up at once to the front rank of the guard, and +proceeded to inspect the men carefully. With his own hands he altered +the hang of the knapsacks and the position of the belts; he measured +in the regular way, with two fingers, the length of the pouch below +the elbow, grumbling to himself as he went along. + +"So you use harness-blacking for your pouches. I don't approve of +that. And your pipe-clay; it's got too blue a tinge." + +While he lingered thus fondly over the trifling details that, to his +mind, summed up the whole duty of a general officer, his wife's voice +was heard impatiently calling him to her side. + +"Come, general, don't be all day! How can you waste time over such +nonsense!" + +"My dear," said her husband, gravely, as he rejoined her, "this +regiment is to form part of my brigade"--McKay pricked up his +ears--"it is the first time I have seen any of it. You must allow +me--" + +"I am going on into the town; inspecting guards doesn't amuse me," and +the general discreetly abandoned his professional duties and walked on +by her side. + +The guard was dismissed by its commander; the men "lodged arms" and +went back to the guard-room. Only Sergeant Hyde remained outside, +watching the retreating figures of the Wilders' party. + +"I should have known her voice again amongst a thousand," said the old +sergeant, shaking his head; "and from the glimpse I caught of her she +seemed but little changed. I wonder whether she saw me. Not that she +would have recognised me; I am not what I was. No one here has made me +out, although a dozen years ago I was well known all over the Rock. +Besides, how could she see me? I was on the other flank, and, +fortunately, she left the general to inspect us by himself. Poor man! +I had rather be a sergeant--a private even--than stand in that +general's shoes." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. + + +The Wilders' party, after leaving the Waterport, passed through the +Casemate Barrack Square and entered Waterport Street, the chief +thoroughfare of the town. It was a narrow, unpretending street, very +foreign in aspect; the houses tall and overhanging with balconies +filled with flowers; the lattice-shutters gaily painted, having +outside blinds of brilliantly striped stuffs. + +The shop fronts were small, the wares common-place; the best show was +at the drapers, where they sold British calicoes and piece-goods in +flaunting colours, calculated to suit the local taste. + +The street, both pavement and roadway, was crowded. In the former were +long strings of pack-horses bringing in straw and charcoal from +Spain; small stout donkeys laden with water-barrels; officers, some in +undress uniform, many more in plain clothes, riding long-tailed barbs; +occasionally a commissariat wagon drawn by a pair of sleek mules, or a +high-hooded _calêche_, with its driver seated on the shafts, cut +through the throng. Detachments of troops, too, marched by: recruits +returning from drill upon the North Front, armed parties, guards +coming off duty, and others going on fatigue--all these cleared the +street before them. On the pavement the crowd was as diverse as might +be expected, from the mixed population. Stately Moors rubbed elbows +with stalwart British soldiers; Barbary Jews, dejected in mien, but +with shrewd, cunning eyes, chaffered with the itinerant vendors of +freshly caught sardines, or the newly-picked fruit of the prickly +pear. Now and again, quite out of keeping with her surroundings, a +rosy-cheeked British nursemaid passed by escorting her charges--the +blue-eyed, flaxen-haired children of the dominant race. + +General Wilders walked along with head erect, returning punctiliously +the innumerable salutes he received, quite happy, and in his element +in this essentially military post and stronghold. Mrs. Wilders seemed +also to enjoy the busy, animated scene: it was all so new to her, so +different from anything she had expected, as she was at great pains to +explain. The sight of this foreign town held by British bayonets +pleased her, she said; she was proud to think that she was now an +Englishwoman. + +"It is your first visit to Gibraltar, then?" said young Mr. Wilders, +anxious to be civil. + +"Oh, yes!" she replied; "that is why I am so interested--so amused by +all I see." + +Was this absolutely true? She seemed, as she led the way across the +casemate square and up Waterport Street, to know the road without +guidance, and once or twice a passer-by paused to look at her. Were +they only paying tribute to her radiant beauty, or was her's not +altogether an unfamiliar face? + +It was evident that there were those at Gibraltar who knew her, or +mistook her for some one else. + +As the party reached the Commercial Square, and the main guard, like +that at Waterport, turned out to do honour to the general, a man +pushed forward from a little group that stood respectfully behind the +party, and whispered hoarsely in Mrs. Wilders's ear-- + +"_Dios mio! Cypriana! Es usted?_" (Gracious Heavens! Cyprienne! Is it +you?) + +Mrs. Wilders stopped and looked round. At that moment, too, young +Wilders turned angrily on the man--a black-muzzled, Spanish-looking +fellow, dressed in a suit of coarse brown cloth, short jacket, +knee-breeches, and leather gaiters--the dress, in fact, of a +well-to-do Spanish peasant--and said, sharply, "How dare you speak to +this lady? What did he say to you, Mrs. Wilders--anything rude?" + +Mrs. Wilders had recovered herself sufficiently to reply in an +unconcerned tone-- + +"I did not understand his jargon; but it does not matter in the least; +don't make any fuss, I beg." + +The incident had been unobserved by any but these two, and it must +have been speedily forgotten by young Wilders, for he said nothing +more. But Mrs. Wilders, as they passed on, and for the rest of their +walk to the Convent, as the Governor's residence is still styled, +looked anxiously behind to see if the man who had claimed acquaintance +with her was still in sight. + +Yes; he was following her. What did he mean? + +Half an hour later, when the Wilders had made their bow to the +Governor, and it had been arranged that the general should attend an +inspection of troops upon the North Front, Mrs. Wilders declined to +accept the seat in the carriage offered her. She preferred, she said, +to explore the quaint old town. Mr. Wilders and one of the Governor's +aides-de-camps eagerly volunteered to escort, but she declined. + +"Many thanks, but I'd rather go alone. I shall be more independent." + +"You'll lose your way; or be arrested by the garrison police and taken +before the town major as a suspicious character, loitering too near +the fortifications," said the Governor, who thought it a capital joke. + +"No one will interfere with me, I think," she replied, quietly. "I am +quite able to take care of myself." + +She looked it just then, with her firm-set lips and flashing eyes. + +"Mrs. Wilders will have her own way," said her husband. "It's best to +give in to her. That's what I've found," he added, with a laugh, in +which all joined. + +When the horses were brought out for the parade, Mrs. Wilders, still +persisting in her intention of walking alone, said, gaily-- + +"Well, gentlemen, while you are playing at soldiers I shall go off on +my own devices. If I get tired, Bill, I shall go back to the yacht." + +And with this Mrs. Wilders walked off. + +"Here, sergeant!" cried the general to his orderly, McKay. "I don't +want you; you may be of use to Mrs. Wilders. Go after her." + +"Shall I report myself to her, sir?" + +"I don't advise you, my man. She'd send you about your business +double-quick. But you can keep your eye on her, and see she comes to +no harm." + +Sergeant McKay saluted and hastened out of the courtyard. Mrs. Wilders +had already disappeared down Convent Lane, and was just turning into +the main street. McKay followed quickly, keeping her in sight. + +It was evident that the best part of Gibraltar had no charms for Mrs. +Wilders; she did not want to look into the shop windows, such as they were; +nor did she pause to admire the architectural beauties of the Garrison +Library or other severely plain masterpieces of our military engineers. Her +course was towards the upper town, and she pressed on with quick, +unfaltering steps, as though she knew every inch of the ground. + +Ten minutes' sharp walking, sometimes by steep lanes, sometimes up +long flights of stone steps, brought her to the upper road leading to +the Moorish castle. This was essentially a native quarter; Spanish was +the only language heard from the children who swarmed about the +doorways, or their slatternly mothers quarreling over their washtubs, +or combing out and cleansing, in a manner that will not bear +description, their children's hair. Spanish colour prevailed, and +Spanish smells. + +Still pursuing her way without hesitation, Mrs. Wilders presently +turned up another steep alley bearing the historic name of "Red Hot +Shot Ramp," and paused opposite a gateway leading into a dirty +courtyard. The place was a kind of livery or bait stable patronised by +muleteers and gipsy dealers, who brought in horses from Spain. + +Picking her steps carefully, Mrs. Wilders entered the stable-yard. + +"Benito Villegas?" she asked in fluent Spanish, of the ostler, who +stared with open-mouthed surprise at this apparition of a fine lady in +such a dirty locality. + +"Benito, the commission agent and guide? Yes, señora, he is with his +horses inside," replied the ostler, pointing to the stable-door. + +"Call him, then!" cried Mrs. Wilders, imperiously. "Think you that I +will cross the threshold of your piggery?" and she waited, stamping +her foot impatiently whilst the man did her bidding. + +In another minute he came out with Benito Villegas, the man in the +brown suit, who had spoken to Mrs. Wilders in the Commercial Square. + +"Cypriana," he began at once, in a half-coaxing, half-apologetic tone. + +"Silence! Answer my questions, or I will thrash you with your own +whip. How dared you intrude yourself upon me to-day?" + +"Forgive me! I was so utterly amazed. I thought some bright vision had +descended from above, sent, perhaps, by the Holy Virgin"--he crossed +himself devoutly--"I could not believe it was you." + +"Thanks! I am not an angel from heaven, I know, but let that pass. +Answer me! How dared you speak to me to-day?" + +"The sight of you awoke old memories; once again I worshipped +you--your shadow--the ground on which you trod. I thought of how you +once returned my love." + +"Miserable cur! I never stooped so low." + +"You would have been mine but for that cursed Englishman who came +between us, and whom you preferred. What did you gain by listening to +him? He lured you from your home--" + +"No more! The villain met with his deserts. He is dead--dead these +years--and with him all my old life. That is what brings me here. +Attend now, Benito Villegas, to what I say!" + +"I am listening," he answered, cowering before her, and in a tone of +mingled fear and passion. It was evident this strange woman exercised +an extraordinary influence over him. + +"Never again must you presume to recognise me--to address me, +anywhere. If you do, take care! I am a great lady now--the wife of an +English general. I have great influence, much power, and can do what I +please with such scum as you. I have been with my husband just now to +the Convent, the palace of the Governor, and I have but to ask to +obtain your immediate expulsion from the Rock. Do not anger or oppose +me, man, or beware!" + +Benito looked at her with increasing awe. + +"Obey my behests, on the other hand, and I will reward you. Ask any +favour! Money?"--she quickly took out a little purse and handed him a +ten-pound note--"here is an earnest of what I will give you. Interest? +Do you want the good-will of the authorities--a snug appointment in +the Custom-house, or under the police? They are yours." + +"I am your slave; I will do your bidding, and ask nothing in return +but your approval." + +"Nothing! You grow singularly self-denying, Señor Benito." + +"The señora will really help me?" said Benito, now cringing and +obsequious. "One small favour, then. I am tired of this wandering +life. Here to-day in Cadiz; Ronda, Malaga, to-morrow. At everybody's +beck and call--never my own master, not for an hour. I want to settle +down." + +"To marry?" inquired Mrs. Wilders, contemptuously. "In your own +station? That is better." + +"I have not forgotten you, señora. But the wound was beginning to +heal--" + +She held up her hand with a menacing gesture. + +"I will not deny that I have cast my eyes upon a maiden that pleases +me," Benito confessed. "I have known her from childhood. Her friends +approve of my suit, and would accept me; but what lot can I offer a +wife?" + +"Well, how is it to be mended?" + +"For a small sum--five hundred dollars--I could purchase a share in +these stables." + +"You shall have the money at once as a gift." + +"I will promise in return never to trouble you again." + +"I make no conditions; only I warn you if you ever offend, if you ever +presume--" + +"I shall fully merit your displeasure." + +"Enough said!" she cut him short. "You know my wishes; see that they +are fulfilled. You shall hear from me again. For the present, +good-day." + +She gathered up the skirts of her dress, turned on her heel, and swept +out of the place. + +In the gateway she ran up against Serjeant McKay, who had been +hovering about the stables from the moment he saw Mrs. Wilders enter +the courtyard. He had seen nothing of what passed inside, and as the +interview with Benito occupied some time he had grown uneasy. Fearing +something had happened to the general's wife, he was on the point of +going in to look after her when he met her coming out. + +"You have been following me," said Mrs. Wilders, sharply, and jumping +with all a woman's quickness at the right conclusion. "Who set you to +spy on me?" + +"I beg your pardon, madam; I am not a spy," said the young serjeant, +formally saluting. + +"Don't bandy words with me. Tell me, I insist!" + +"The general was afraid something might happen to you. He thought you +might need assistance--perhaps lose your way." + +She looked at him very keenly as he said these last words, watching +whether there was any covert satire in them. + +But McKay's face betrayed nothing. + +"How long have you been at my heels? How much have you seen?" + +"I followed you from the Convent, madam, to this door. I have seen +nothing since you went in here." + +"I daresay you are wondering what brought me to such a place. A person +in whom I take a great interest, an old woman, lives here. I knew her +years ago. Psha! why should I condescend to explain? Look here, Mr. +Sergeant"--she took out her purse and produced a sovereign--"take +this, and drink my health!" + +The sergeant flushed crimson, and drew himself up stiffly, as he said, +with another formal salute, "Madam, you mistake!" + +"Strange!" she exclaimed, scornfully. "I thought all soldiers liked +drink. Well, keep the money; spend it as you like." + +"I cannot take it, madam; I am paid by the Queen to do my duty." + +"And you will not take a bribe to neglect it? Very fine, truly! +General Wilders shall know how well you executed his commands. But +there!--I have had enough of this; I wish to return to the yacht. Show +me the shortest way back to the water side. Lead on; I will follow +you." + +Sergeant McKay took a short cut down the steep steps, and soon +regained the Waterport. There Mrs. Wilders hailed a native boat, and, +without condescending to notice the orderly further, she seated +herself in the stern-sheets and was rowed off to the _Arcadia_. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A SOUTHERN PEARL. + + +"Mariquita! Ma--ri--kee--tah!" + +A woman's voice, shrill and quavering, with an accent of anger that +increased each time the summons was repeated. + +"What's come of the young vixen?" went on the speaker, addressing her +husband, the Tio Pedro, who sat with her behind the counter of a small +tobacconist's shop--an ugly beldame, shrank and shrivelled, with grey +elf-locks, sunk cheeks, and parchment complexion, looking ninety, yet +little more than half that age. Women ripen early, are soon at their +prime, and fade prematurely, under this quickening Southern sun. + +The husband was older, yet better preserved, than his wife--a large, +stout man, with a fierce face and black, baleful eyes. All cowered +before him except La Zandunga, as they called his wife here in +Bombardier Lane. He was at her mercy--a Spaniard resident on the Rock +by permit granted to his wife--a native of Gibraltar, and liable to be +expelled at any time unless she answered for him. + +The shop and stock-in-trade were hers, not his, and she ruled him and +the whole place. + +"Mariquita!" she called again and again, till at length, overflowing +with passion, she rushed from behind the counter into the premises at +the back of the shop. + +She entered a small but well-lighted room, communicating with a few +square feet of garden. At the end was a low fence; beyond this the +roadway intervening between the garden and the Line wall, or seaward +fortifications. + +La Zandunga looked hastily round the room. It contained half-a-dozen +small low tables, drawn near the window and open door, and at these +sat a posse of girls, busy with deft, nimble fingers, making +cigarettes and cigars. These workpeople were under the immediate +control of Mariquita, the mistress's niece. She was popular with them, +evidently, for no one would answer when La Zandunga shrieked out an +angry inquiry to each. + +No answer was needed. There was Mariquita at the end of the garden, +gossiping across the fence with young Sergeant McKay. + +It was quite an accident, of course. The serjeant, returning to his +quarters from Waterport, had seen Mariquita within, and made her a +signal she could not mistake. + +"I knew you would come out," he said, pleasantly, when she appeared, +shy and shrinking, yet with a glad light in her eyes. + +"_Vaya!_ what conceit! I was seeking a flower in the garden," she +answered demurely; but her low voice and heightened colour plainly +showed that she was ready to come to him whenever he called--to follow +him, indeed, all over the world. + +She spoke in Spanish, with its high-flown epithets and exaggerated +metaphor, a language in which Stanislas McKay, from his natural +aptitude and this charming tutorship, had made excellent progress. + +"My life, my jewel, my pearl!" he cried. + +A pearl, indeed, incomparable and above price for all who could +appreciate the charms and graces of bright blooming girlhood. + +Mariquita Hidalgo was still in her teens--a woman full grown, but with +the frank, innocent face of a child. A slender figure, tall, but +well-rounded and beautifully poised, having the free, elastic movement +of her Spanish ancestors, whose women are the best walkers in the +world. She had, too, the olive complexion as clear and transparent as +wax, the full crimson lips, the magnificent eyes, dark and lustrous, +the indices of an ardent temperament capable of the deepest passion, +the strongest love, or fiercest hate. + +A very gracious figure indeed was this splendid specimen of a handsome +race, as she stood there coyly talking to the man of her choice. + +The contrast was strongly marked between them. She, with raven hair, +dark skin, and soft brown eyes, was a perfect Southern brunette: +quick, impatient, impulsive, easily moved. He, fresh-coloured, +blue-eyed, with flaxen moustache, stalwart in frame, self-possessed, +reserved, almost cold and impassive in demeanour, was as excellent a +type of a native of the North. + +"What brings you this way, Señor don Sargento, at this time of day?" +said Mariquita. "Was it to see me? It was unwise, indiscreet; my +aunt--" + +"I have been on duty at Waterport," replied McKay, with a rather +ungallant frankness that made Mariquita pout. + +"It is plain I am only second in your thoughts. Duty--always duty. Why +did not you come last night to the Alameda when the band played?" + +"I could not, star of my soul! I was on guard." + +"Did I not say so?--duty again! And to-morrow? It is Sunday; you +promised to take me to Europa to see the great cave. Is that, too, +impossible?" + +McKay shook his head laughingly, and said-- + +"You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be +deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly--" + +"I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pettishly. "Go about +your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas. +Benito will take me where I want to go." + +"I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company," +said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was +obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my +fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember, +I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive." + +"I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and +serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march--to India, +Constantinople, Russia--where can any one say?--and I shall never see +you more." + +This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and +half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East. + +"Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win +promotion, fame--a better, higher, more honourable position for you to +share." + +It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her +resonant, unpleasant voice. + +"My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's +name!" + +The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse +of his retreating figure. + +"With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-nothing?" cried La +Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I +thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever +philandering and following you about--Who was it, I say?" + +Mariquita would not answer. + +"In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in +my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my +bounty--the home I give you--the bread you eat? Go in, jade, and earn +it, or I'll put you into the street." + +The girl, bending submissively under this storm of invective and +bitter reproach, walked slowly towards the house. Her aunt followed, +growling fiercely. + +"Cursed red-coat!--common, beggarly soldier! How can you, an Hidalgo +of the best blue blood, whose ancestors were settled here before the +English robbers stole the fortress--before the English?--before the +Moors! You, an Hidalgo, to take up with a base-born hireling +cut-throat--" + +"No more, aunt!" Mariquita turned on her with flashing eyes. "Call me +what you like, you shall not abuse him--my affianced lover--the man to +whom I have given my troth!" + +"What!" screamed the old crone, now furious with rage. "Do you dare +tell me that--to my face? Never, impudent huzzy--never, while I have +strength and spirit and power to say you no--shall you wed this hated +English mercenary--" + +"I will wed no one else." + +"That will we see. Is not your hand promised--" + +"Not with my consent." + +"--Promised, formally, to Benito Villegas--my husband's cousin?" + +"I have not consented. Never shall I agree. Benito is a villain. I +hate and detest him!" + +"Tell him so to his face, evil-tongued slut!--tell him if you dare! He +is now in the house. That is why I came to fetch you. I saw him +approaching." + +"He knows my opinion of him, but if you wish it, aunt, he shall hear +it again," said the young girl, undaunted; and she walked on through +the workroom, straight into the little shop. + +Benito was seated at the counter, talking confidentially, and in a +very low voice, with Tio Pedro. + +"Are the bales ready, uncle? In two days from now we can run them +through like oil in a tube." + +"Have you settled the terms?" + +"On both sides. Here the inspectors were difficult, but I oiled their +palms. On the other side the Custom-house officers are my friends. All +is straight and easy. The tobacco must be shipped to-morrow--" + +"In the same _falucha_?" + +"Yes; for Estepona. Be ready, then, at gunfire--" + +He stopped suddenly as Mariquita came in. + +"Beautiful as a star!" was his greeting; and in a fulsome, familiar +tone he went on--"You are like the sun at noon, my beauty, and burn +my heart with your bright eyes." + +"Insolent!" retorted Mariquita. "Hold your tongue." + +"What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest? Come, sit here on my +knee and listen, while I whisper some good news." + +"Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not +speak to you at all." + +"Good news! what then?" put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice. + +"My fortune is made. I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock. +Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la +Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please." + +"Fortunate girl!" said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita. + +"It does not affect me," replied the girl, with chilling contempt. +"Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to +offer, you should never call me yours." + +Benito's face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply. + +"Don't mind her, my son," said the old man. "She has lost her senses: +the evil one has bitten her." + +"Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats," interposed his wife, +"who has cast a spell over her. I thought I saw him at the garden just +now. If I was only certain--" + +"Silly girl, beware!" cried Benito, with bitter meaning. "I know him: +hateful, despicable hound! He is only trifling with you. He cares +nothing for you; you are not to his taste. What! He, a Northern +pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair! +Never! I know better. Only to-day I saw him with the woman he +prefers--a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself." + +He had touched the Southern woman's most sensitive chord. Jealousy +flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, +though she calmly answered-- + +"It is not true." + +"Ask him yourself. I tell you I saw them together: first near our +stables, and then down by Waterport--a splendid woman!" + +Waterport! McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the +Rock. There was something in it, then. Was he playing her false? No. +She would trust him still. + +"I do not believe you, Benito. Such suspicions are worthy only of a +place in your false, black heart!" and with these words Mariquita +rushed away. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +OFF TO THE WARS. + + +Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, +where "lay" the Royal Picts--to use a soldier's phrase. The few words +let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay, had been +verified. "The route had come," and the regiment was under orders to +join the expeditionary army in the East. + +A splendid body, standing eight hundred strong on parade: strong, +stalwart fellows, all of them, bronzed and bearded, admirably +appointed, perfectly drilled--one of many such magnificent battalions, +the flower of the British army, worthily maintaining the reputation of +the finest infantry in the world. + +Alas! that long years of peace should have rusted administrative +machinery! That so many of these and other brave men should be +sacrificed before the year was out for want of food, fuel, and +clothing--the commonest supplies. + +There seemed little need to improve a military machine so perfect at +all its points. But the fastidious eye of Colonel Blythe, who +commanded the Royal Picts, saw many blemishes in his regiment, and he +was determined to make the most of the time still intervening before +embarkation. Parades were perpetual; for the inspection of arms and +accoutrements, for developing manual dexterity, and efficiency in +drill. Still he was not satisfied. + +"We must have a new sergeant-major," said the old martinet to his +adjutant in the orderly-room. + +The post was vacant for the moment through the promotion of its late +holder to be quartermaster. + +"Yes, sir; the sooner the better. The difficulty is to choose." + +"I have been thinking it over, Smallfield, and have decided to promote +Hyde. Send for him." + +Colour-sergeant Hyde, erect, self-possessed--a pattern soldier in +appearance and propriety--presently marched in and stood respectfully +at "attention" before his superior. + +"Sergeant Hyde!" said the colonel, abruptly, "I am going to make you a +sergeant-major." + +"Thank you, sir," said Hyde, saluting; "I had rather not take it." + +"Heavens above!" cried the colonel, fiercely. He was of the old +school, and used expletives freely. "You must be an idiot!" + +"I am sensible, sir, of the honour you would do me, but--" + +"Nonsense, man! I insist. I must have you." + +"No, sir," said Hyde, firmly, "I must decline the honour." + +"Was there ever such an extraordinary fellow? Why, man alive! it will +reinstate you--" + +"I must beg, sir," said Hyde, hastily interrupting, and looking with +intention towards the adjutant. + +"Yes, yes! I understand," said the colonel. "Leave us, Mr. Smallfield; +I wish to speak to Sergeant Hyde alone." + +"You have my secret, Colonel Blythe," said Hyde, when the adjutant had +left the room, "but I have your promise." + +"I was near forgetting it, I confess; but I was so upset, so put out, +at your cursed obstinacy. Why will you persist in keeping in the +background? Accept this promotion, and you shall have a commission +before the year is out." + +"I do not want a commission; I am perfectly happy as I am." + +"Was there ever such a pig-headed fellow? Come, Hyde, be persuaded." +The colonel got up from his seat and walked round to where the +sergeant stood, still erect and motionless. "Come, Rupert, old +comrade, old friend," and he put his hand affectionately on the +sergeant's shoulder. + +The muscles of the sergeant's face worked visibly. + +"It's no use, Blythe; I am dead to the world. I have no desire to +rise." + +"But it's so aggravating; it puts me in such a hole," said the +colonel, striding up and down the office. "You're just the man we +want--superior in every way. You would hold your own so well with the +other non-commissioned officers. I do wish--Where am I to find +another?" + +"I can tell you, if you will listen to my advice." + +"Yes? Speak out." + +"Young McKay; he would make an excellent sergeant-major." + +"I know him--a smart, sensible, intelligent young fellow. But has he +ballast--education?" + +"He is better born than you or me, colonel. A lad of excellent parts +and first-rate education. Bring him on, and he will do you and the +regiment credit yet." + +The colonel sat down again at his desk, and seemed lost in thought. + +"I must ask Smallfield. Call in the adjutant, will you?" he added, in +a voice that implied their conventional relations as superior officer +and sergeant were resumed. + +Half an hour later McKay was standing in Hyde's place, receiving the +same offer, but accepting, although diffidently. + +"I am not fit for the post, sir," he protested. + +"That's my affair. I have selected you for reasons of my own, and the +responsibility is mine." + +"I will try my best, sir; that is all I can say." + +"It's quite enough. Do your best, and you will satisfy me." + +"I can't think why he chose me," confided Stanislas to his friend +Hyde, later on, in the sergeants' mess. + +"Can't you?" replied his friend, drily. "It's a case of hidden merit +receiving its right reward." + +"I have never thought that the colonel noticed me, or distinguished me +from any of the other sergeants," said Stanislas. + +"Probably your good qualities were pointed out to him," replied Hyde, +still in the same tone. "Or your fine friends and relations have used +their influence." + +"It is little likely; and, as I tell you, I don't understand it in the +least." + +"Leave it so. No doubt you will find out some day. In the meantime do +justice to your recommendation, whoever gave it. You have got your +foot on the ladder now, but no one can help you to climb; that must +depend upon your own exertions." + +"Yes, but you can help me, Hyde, with your advice, encouragement, +support. I am very young to be put up so high, and over men of +standing and experience like yourself." + +"You will have no more loyal subordinate than me, Sergeant-major +McKay. Come to me whenever you are in trouble or doubt. I will do all +I can, you may depend. I like you, boy, and that's enough said." + +The old sergeant seized McKay's hand, shook it warmly, and then +abruptly quitted the room. + +Stanislas was eager to tell this pleasing news of his promotion to +Mariquita; but she was the last person to hear it, notwithstanding. +McKay entered at once upon his new duties, and they kept him close +from morning till night. A good sergeant-major allows himself no +leisure. He is the first on parade, the last to leave it. He is +perpetually on the move; now inspecting guards and pickets, now +superintending drills, while all day long he has his eye upon the +conduct of the non-commissioned officers, and the demeanour and dress +of the private men. + +There was no time to hang about the tobacconist's shop in Bombardier +Lane, waiting furtively for a chance of seeing Mariquita alone. They +kept their eye upon her, too; and when at last he tore himself away +from his new and absorbing duties he paid two or three visits to the +place before he could speak to her. + +Mariquita received him coldly--distantly. + +They were standing, as usual, on each side of the low fence at the end +of the garden. + +"What's wrong, little star? How have I offended you?" + +"I wonder that you trouble to come here at all, Don Stanislas. It's +more than a week since I you." + +"I have been so busy. My new duties: they have made me, you know--" + +"Throw that bone to some other dog," interrupted Mariquita, abruptly. +"I am to be no longer deceived by your pretended duties. I know the +truth: you prefer some other girl." + +"Mariquita!" protested McKay. + +"I have heard all. Do not try to deny it. She is tall and fair; one of +your compatriots. You were seen together." + +"Where, pray? Who has told you this nonsense?" + +"At Waterport. Benito saw you." + +McKay laughed merrily. + +"I see it all. Why, you foolish, jealous Mariquita, that was my +general's wife--a great lady. I was attending and following her about +like a lackey. I would not dare to lift my eyes to her even if I +wished, which is certainly not the case." + +Mariquita was beginning to relent. Her big eyes filled with tear, and +she said in a broken voice, as though this quarrel with her lover had +pained her greatly-- + +"Oh, oily-tongued! if only I could believe you!" + +"Why, of course it's true. Surely you would not let that villain +Benito make mischief between us? But, there; time is too precious to +waste in silly squabbles. I can't stay long; I can't tell when I shall +come again." + +"Is your love beginning to cool, Stanislas? If so, we had better part +before--" + +"Listen, dearest," interrupted McKay; "I have good news for you," and +he told her of his unexpected promotion, and of the excellent +prospects it held forth. + +"I am nearly certain to win a commission before very long. Now that we +are going to the war--" + +"The war!" Mariquita's face turned ghastly white; she put her hand +upon her heart, and was on the point of falling to the ground when +McKay vaulted lightly over the fence and saved her by putting his arm +round her waist. + +"Idiot that I was to blurt it out like that, after thinking all the +week how best to break the news! Mariquita! Mariquita! speak to me, I +implore you!" + +But the poor child was too much overcome to reply, and he led her, +dazed and half-fainting, to a little seat near the house, where, with +soft caresses and endearing words, he sought to restore her to +herself. + +"The war!" she said, at length. "It has come, then, the terrible news +that I have so dreaded. We are to part, and I shall never, never see +you again." + +"What nonsense, Mariquita! Be brave! Remember you are to be a +soldier's wife. Be brave, I say." + +"They will kill you! Oh! if they only dared, I would be revenged!" + +"Bravo, my pet! that is the proper spirit. You would fight the +Russians, wouldn't you?" + +"I would do anything, Stanislas, to help you, to shield you from harm. Why +can't I go with you? Who knows! I might save you. I, a weak, helpless girl, +would be strong if you were in danger. I am ready, Stanislas, to sacrifice +my life for yours." + +Greatly touched by the deep devotion displayed by these sweet words, +McKay bent his head and kissed her on the lips. + +But at this moment the tender scene was abruptly ended by the shrill, +strident tones of La Zandunga's voice. + +"So I have caught you, shameless girl, philandering again with this +rascally red-coat. May he die in a dog-kennel! Here, in my very house! +But, I promise you, it is for the last time. _Hola!_ Benito! Pedro! +help!" and, screaming wildly, the old crone tore Mariquita from +McKay's side and dragged her into the house. + +The young sergeant, eager to protect his love from ill-usage, would +have followed, but he was confronted by Benito, who now stood in the +doorway, black and menacing, with a great two-edged Albacete knife in +his hand. + +"Stand back, miscreant, hated Englishman, or I will stab you to the +heart." + +Nothing daunted by the threat, McKay advanced boldly on Benito; with +one hand he caught his would-be assailant by the throat; with the +other the wrist that was lifted to strike. A few seconds more, and +Benito had measured his length on the ground, while his murderous +weapon had passed into the possession of McKay. + +Having thus disposed of one opponent, McKay met a second, in the +person of Tio Pedro, who, slower in his movements, had also come out +in answer to his wife's appeal. + +"Who are you that dares to intrude here?" asked Pedro, roughly. "I +will complain to the town major, and have you punished for this." + +"Look to yourself, rather!" replied McKay, hotly. "I stand too high to +fear your threats. But you, thief and smuggler, I will bring the +police upon you and your accomplice, who has just tried to murder me +with his knife." + +Tio Pedro turned ghastly pale at the sergeant-major's words. He had +evidently no wish for a domiciliary visit, and would have been glad to +be well rid of McKay. + +"Let him be! Let him be!" he said, attempting to pacify Benito, who, +smarting from his recent overthrow, seemed ready to renew the +struggle. "Let him be! It is all a mistake. The gentleman has +explained his business here, and nothing more need be said." + +"Nothing more!" hissed Benito, between his teeth. "Not when he has +insulted me--struck me! Nothing more! We shall have to settle accounts +together, he and I. Look to yourself Señor Englishman. There is no +bond that does not some day run out; no debt that is never paid." + +McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little +longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house. + +It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again +before his departure. The few short days intervening before +embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost +wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and +visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible, +and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one +good-bye. + +But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart. As the +regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down +to the New Mole, where the transport-ship awaited it, an excited +throng of spectators lined the way. Colonel Blythe headed his +regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation, +marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head +high, proudly conscious of his honourable position. The colonel and +the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as +they passed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream. + +He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared +face and streaming eyes. + +What could he do? It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible +to emotion. But this was more than mortal man could do. He paused, +lingering irresolutely, when the colonel noticed his agitation, and +quickly guessed the exact state of the case. + +"'The girl I left behind me,' eh, sergeant-major? Well, fall out for a +minute or two, if you like"--and, with this kindly and considerate +permission, McKay took Mariquita aside to make his last _adieux_. + +"_Adios! vida mia_" [good-bye, my life], he was saying, when the poor +girl almost fainted in his arms. + +He looked round, greatly perplexed, and happily his eye fell upon +Sergeant Hyde. + +"Here, Hyde," he said, "take charge of this dear girl." + +"What! sergeant-major, have you been caught in the toils of one of +these bright-eyed damsels? It is well we have got the route. They are +dangerous cattle, these women; and, if you let them, will hang like a +mill-stone round a soldier's neck." + +"Pshaw! man, don't moralise. This girl is my heart's choice. Please +Heaven I may return to console her for present sorrow. But I can't +wait. Help me: I can trust you. See Mariquita safely back to her home, +and then join us on board." + +"I shall be taken up as a deserter." + +"Nonsense! I will see to that with the adjutant. We do not sail for +two hours at least; you will have plenty of time." + +Sergeant Hyde, although unwillingly, accepted the trust, and thus met +Mariquita for the first time. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A GENERAL ACTION. + + +A long low line of coast trending along north and south as far as the +eye could reach; nearest at hand a strip of beach, smooth shingle cast +up by the surf of westerly gales; next, a swelling upland, dotted with +grazing cattle, snug homesteads, and stacks of hay and corn; beyond, a +range of low hills, steep-faced and reddish-hued. + +The Crimea! The land of promise; the great goal to which the thoughts +of every man in two vast hosts had been turned for many months past. +On the furze-clad common of Chobham camp, on the long voyage out, at +Gallipoli, while eating out their hearts at irritating inaction; on +the sweltering, malarious Bulgarian plains, fever-stricken and +cholera-cursed; at Varna, waiting impatiently, almost hopelessly, for +orders to sail, twenty thousand British soldiers of all ranks had +longed to look upon this Crimean shore. It was here, so ran the common +rumour, that the chief power of the mighty Czar was concentrated; here +stood Sebastopol, the famous fortress, the great stronghold and +arsenal of Southern Russia; here, at length, the opposing forces would +join issue, and the allies, after months of tedious expectation, would +find themselves face to face with their foe. + +No wonder, then, that hearts beat high as our men gazed eagerly upon +the Crimea. The prospect southward was still more calculated to stir +emotion. The whole surface of that Eastern sea was covered with the +navies of the Western Powers. The long array stretched north and south +for many a mile; it extended westward, far back to the distant +horizon, and beyond: a countless forest of masts, a jumble of sails +and smoke-stacks, a crowd of fighting-ships and transports, +three-deckers, frigates, great troopers, ocean steamers, full-rigged +ships--an Armada such as the world had never seen before. A grand +display of naval power, a magnificent expedition marshalled with +perfect precision, moving by day in well-kept parallel lines; at +night, motionless, and studding the sea with a "second heaven of +stars." + +Day dawned propitious on the morning of the landing: a bright, and +soon fierce, sun rose on a cloudless sky. At a given signal the boats +were lowered--a nearly countless flotilla; the troops went overboard +silently and with admirable despatch, and all again, by signal, +started in one long perfect line for the shore. Within an hour the +boats were beached, the troops sprang eagerly to land, and the +invasion was completed without accident, and unopposed. + +The Royal Picts, coming straight from Gibraltar, had joined the +expedition at Varna without disembarking. The regiment had thus been +long on ship-board, but it had lost none of its smartness, and formed +up on the beach with as much precision as on the South Barracks +parade. It fell into its place at once, upon the right of General +Wilders's brigade, and that gallant officer was not long in welcoming +it to his command. + +Everyone was in the highest health and spirits, overflowing with +excitement and enthusiasm. At the appearance of their general, the +men, greatly to his annoyance, set up a wild, irregular cheer. + +"Silence, men, silence! It is most unsoldierlike. Keep your shouting +till you charge. Here, Colonel Blythe, we will get rid of a little of +this superfluous energy. Advance, in skirmishing order, to the +plateau, and hold it. There are Cossacks about, and the landing is not +yet completed. But do not advance beyond the plateau. You understand?" + +The regiment promptly executed the manoeuvre indicated, and gained +the rising ground. The view thence inland was more extended, and at no +great distance a road crossed, along which was seen a long line of +native carts, toiling painfully, and escorted by a few of the enemy's +horse. + +"We must have those carts." The speaker was a staff-officer, the +quartermaster-general, an eagle-eyed, decisive-speaking, short, +slender man, who was riding a splendid charger, which he sat to +perfection. "Colonel Blythe! send forward your right company at the +double, and capture them." + +"My brigadier ordered me not to advance," replied the old colonel, +rather stolidly. + +"Do as I tell you; I will take the responsibility. But look sharp!" + +Already, no doubt under orders from the escort, the drivers were +unharnessing their teams, with the idea of making off with the cattle. +The skirmishers of the Royal Picts advanced quickly within range, and +opened fire--the first shots these upon Russian soil--and some of them +took effect. The carts were abandoned, and speedily changed masters. + +"We shall want those carts," said old Hyde, abruptly, to his friend +the sergeant-major. They had watched this little episode together. + +"Yes, I suppose they will come in useful." + +"I should think so. Are you aware that this fine force of ours is +quite without transport? At least, I have seen none. Do you know what +that means?" + +"That we shall have to be our own beasts of burden," said McKay, +laughing, as he touched his havresack. It was comfortably lined with +biscuit and cold salt pork--three days' rations, and the only food +that he or his comrades were likely to get for some time. + +"I'm not afraid of roughing it," said the old soldier. "I have done +that often enough. We have got our greatcoats and blankets, and I +daresay we shan't hurt; but I have seen something of campaigning, and +I tell you honestly I don't like the way in which we have started on +this job." + +"What an inveterate old grumbler you are, Hyde! Besides, what right +have you to criticise the general and his plans?" + +"We have entered into this business a great deal too lightly, I am +quite convinced of that," said Hyde, positively. "There has been no +sufficient preparation." + +"Nonsense, man! They have been months getting the expedition ready." + +"And still it is wanting in the most necessary things. It has to trust +to luck for its transport," and the old sergeant pointed with his +thumb to the captured carts. "We may, perhaps, get as many more; but, +even then, there won't be enough to supply us with food if we go much +further inland; we may never see our knapsacks again, or our tents." + +"We shan't want them; it won't do us any harm to sleep in the open. +Napoleon always said that the bivouac was the finest training for +troops." + +"You will be glad enough of shelter, sergeant-major, before to-night's +out, mark my words! The French are better off than we are; they have +got everything to their hands--their shelter-tents, knapsacks, and +all. They understand campaigning; I think we have forgotten the art." + +"As if we have anything to learn from the French!" said the +self-satisfied young Briton, by way of ending the conversation. + +But Sergeant Hyde was right, so far as the need for shelter was +concerned. As evening closed in, heavy clouds came up from the sea, +and it rained in torrents all night. + +A miserable night it was! The whole army lay exposed to the fury of +the elements on the bleak hillside, drenched to the skin, in pools and +watercourses, under saturated blankets, without fuel, or the chance of +lighting a bivouac fire. It was the same for all; the generals of +division, high staff-officers, colonels, captains, and private men. +The first night on Crimean soil was no bad precursor of the dreadful +winter still to come. + +Next day the prospect brightened a little. The sun came out and dried +damp clothes; tents were landed, only to be re-embarked when the army +commenced its march. This was on the third day after disembarkation, +when, with all the pomp and circumstance of a parade movement, the +allied generals advanced southward along the coast. They were in +search of an enemy which had shown a strange reluctance to come to +blows, and had already missed a splendid opportunity of interfering +with the landing. + +The place of honour in the order of march was assigned to the English, +who were on the left, with that flank unprotected and "in the air"; on +their right marched the French; on whose right, again, the Turks; then +came the sea. Moving parallel with the land-forces, the allied fleets +held undisputed dominion of the waters. A competent critic could +detect no brilliant strategy in the operations so far; no astute, +carefully calculated plan directed the march. One simple and primitive +idea possessed the minds of the allied commanders, and that was to +come to close quarters, and fight the Russians wherever they could be +found. + +There could be only one termination to such a military policy as this +when every hour lessened the distance between the opposing forces. At +the end of the first day's march, most toilsome and trying to troops +still harassed by fell disease, it was plain that the enemy were close +at hand. Large bodies of their cavalry hung black and menacing along +our front--the advance guards these of a large force in position +behind. Any moment might bring on a collision. It was nearly +precipitated, and prematurely, by the action of our horse--a small +handful of cavalry, led by a fiery impatient soldier, eager, like all +under his command, to cross swords with the enemy. + +A couple of English cavalry regiments had been pushed forward to +reconnoitre the strength of the Russians. The horsemen rode out in +gallant style, but were checked by artillery fire; a British battery +galloped up and replied. Presently the round-shot bounded like cricket +balls, but at murderous pace, across the plain. More cavalry went +forward on our side, and two whole infantry divisions, in one of which +was the Royal Picts, followed in support. + +Surely a battle was close at hand. But nothing came of this +demonstration. Why, was not quite clear, till Hugo Wilders, who was a +captain in the Royal Lancers, came galloping by, and exchanged a few +hasty words with the general, his cousin Bill. + +"What's up, Hugo?" The general was riding just in front of the Royal +Picts, and his words were heard by many of the regiment. + +"Just fancy! we were on the point of having a brush with the Cossacks, +when Lord Raglan came up and spoiled the fun." + +"Do you know why?" + +"Yes; I heard him talking to our general--I am galloping, you know, +for Lord Cardigan, who was mad to be at them, I can tell you, but he +wasn't allowed." + +"They were far too strong for you; I could see that myself." + +"That's what Lord Raglan said. As if any one of us was not good enough +for twenty Russians! But he was particularly anxious, so I heard him +say, not to be drawn into an action to-day." + +"No doubt he was right," replied old Wilders. "Only it can't be put +off much longer. Unless I am greatly mistaken, to-morrow we shall be +at it hammer and tongs." + +"I hope I shall be somewhere near!" cried Hugo, gaily. "But where are +the Royal Picts? Oh! here! I want to give Anastasius good-day." + +He found his younger brother was carrying the regimental colours, and +the two young fellows exchanged pleasant greetings. It was quite a +little family party, for just behind, in the centre of the line, stood +Sergeant-major McKay, the unacknowledged cousin. How many of these +four Wilders would be alive next night? + +No doubt a battle was imminent. It was more than possible that there +would be a night attack, so both armies bivouacked in order of battle, +ready to stand up in their places and fight at the first alarm. + +But the night passed uneventfully. At daybreak the march was resumed, +and the day was still young when the allies came upon what seemed a +position of immense strength, occupied in force by the Russian troops. + +It was a broad barrier of hills, at right angles with the coast, lying +straight athwart our line of march. The hills, highest and steepest +near the water's edge, were still difficult in the centre, where the +great high road to Sebastopol pierced the position by a deep defile; +beyond the road, slopes more gentle ended on the outer flank in the +tall buttresslike Kourgané Hill. All along the front ran a rapid +river, the Alma, in a deep channel. Villages nestled on its banks--one +near the sea, one midway, one on the extreme right; and all about the +low ground rich vegetation flourished, in garden, vineyard, and copse. + +These were the heights of the Alma--historic ground, hallowed by many +memories of grim contest, vain prowess, glorious deeds, fell carnage, +and hideous death. + +"We are in for it now, my boy," whispered Sergeant Hyde, who was one +of the colour-party, and stood in the centre of the column, near +McKay. + +"What is it?" asked the young sergeant-major eagerly. "A fight?" + +"More than that--a general action. In another hour or two we shall be +engaged hotly along the whole line. Some of us will lose the number of +our mess before the day is done." + +The Royal Picts formed part of the second division, under the command +of Sir de Lacy Evans, a fine old soldier, who had seen service for +half a century. This division was on the right of the English army. On +the left of Sir de Lacy Evans was the Light Division, beyond that the +Highlanders and Guards. The Third Division was in reserve behind the +Second, the Fourth far in the rear, still near the sea-shore. + +The march had hitherto been in columns, a disposition that lent +itself readily to deployment into line--the traditional formation, +peculiar to the British arms, and the inevitable prelude to an attack. + +The order now given to form line was, therefore, promptly recognised +as the signal for the approaching struggle. It was rendered the more +necessary by the galling fire opened upon our troops by the enemy's +batteries, which crowned every point of vantage on the hills in front. + +Grandly, and with admirable precision, the three leading divisions of +the British army formed themselves into the historic "Thin Red Line," +renowned in the annals of European warfare, from Blenheim to Waterloo. + +This beautiful line, so slender, yet so imposing in its simple, +unsupported strength, was more than two miles long, and faced the +right half of the Russian position. As the divisions stood, the Guards +and Highlanders confronted the Kourgané Hill, with its greater and +lesser redoubts, armed with heavy guns and held by dense columns of +the enemy. Next them was the Light Division, facing the vineyards and +hamlets to the left of the great high road; before them were other +earth-works, manned by a no less formidable garrison and artillery. +The Second Division lay across the high road, opposite the village of +Bourliouk, high above which was an eighteen-gun battery and great +masses of Russian troops. + +General Wilders's brigade was on the extreme right of the British +front; its right regiment was the Royal Picts, the very centre this of +the battle-field, midway between the sea and the far left; and here +the allied generals had their last meeting before the combat +commenced. + +A single figure, sitting straight and soldier-like in his saddle, with +white hair blanched in the service of his country--a service fraught +with the perils and penalties of war, as the empty sleeve bore +witness--this single figure rode a little in advance of the British +staff. It was Fitzroy Somerset, now Lord Raglan, the close comrade and +trusted friend of the Iron Duke, by whose side he had ridden in every +action in Spain. His face was passive and serene. Contentment shone in +every feature. His martial spirit was stirred by the sights and sounds +of battle, once so familiar to him, but now for forty years unheard. +But the calm demeanour, the quiet voice, the steady, unflinching gaze, +all indicating a noble unconsciousness of danger, were those of the +chance rider in Rotten Row, not of a great commander carrying his own +life and that of thousands in his hand. + +The man who came to meet him was a soldier too, but of a different +type, cast in another mould--a Frenchman, emotional, easily excited, +quick in gesture, rapid-speaking, with a restless, fiery eye. St. +Arnaud, too, had long tried the fortunes of war. His was an intrepid, +eager spirit, but he was torn and convulsed with the tortures of a +mortal sickness, and at times, even at this triumphant hour, his face +was drawn and pale with inward agony. + +They were near enough, these supreme chiefs, for their conversation, +or parts of it, to be heard around. But they spoke in French, and few +but McKay understood the purport of all they said. + +"I am ready to advance at any moment," said Lord Raglan. "I am only +waiting for the development of your attack." + +"Bosquet started an hour ago, but he has a tremendous climb up those +cliffs." + +It was General Bosquet's business to assault the left of the Russian +position, strong in natural obstacles, and almost inaccessible to +troops. + +At this moment an aide-de-camp ventured to ride forward to his +general's side, and said-- + +"Do you hear that firing, my lord? I think the French on the right are +warmly engaged." + +"Are they?" replied Lord Raglan, doubtfully; "I can't catch any return +fire." + +"In any case," observed St. Arnaud, quickly, "it is time to lend him a +hand. The Prince Napoleon and Canrobert shall now advance." + +"The sooner the better," said Lord Raglan, simply; "I must wait till +their attack is developed before I can move." + +"You shall not wait long, my friend." + +The next instant the French mounted messengers were scouring the +plain. St. Arnaud paused a moment, then, gathering up his reins, he +put spurs to his horse and galloped away, saluted as he went by a loud +and hearty cheer. + +The sound must have gladdened the heart of the gallant Frenchman, for +he promptly reined in his horse, and, rising in his stirrups, +responded with a loud "Hurrah for Old England!" given in ringing +tones, and in excellent English. Then, still followed by cheers, he +went on his way. + +It is but poor fun waiting while others begin a great game--poor fun +and dangerous too, as the English line presently realised, while they +looked impatiently for the order to advance. The Russian gunners had +got their range, and were already plying them with shot and shell. At +the first gun, fired evidently at the British staff, Lord Raglan, as +cool and self-possessed as ever, turned to General Wilders, and said, +briefly-- + +"Your men had better lie down." + +"May I not cast loose cartridges first, my lord?" said the old +soldier, anxious to prepare for the serious business of the day. + +"With all my heart! But be quick; they must not stand up here to be +shot at for nothing." Then Lord Raglan himself, erect and fearless, +resumed his observation of the advancing French columns. + +"Dear, dear! how slow they are!" cried the eager voice of Airey, the +quartermaster-general. + +"Look! they are checked!" said another; "they can't stomach the +climb." + +"They have a tough job before them," said a third. "It will try them +hard." + +That the French were in difficulties was evident, for now an +aide-de-camp came galloping from Bosquet with the grave news that the +division was in danger. He was followed by another prominent person on +St. Arnaud's staff, bringing an earnest entreaty that the English +should not delay their advance. A fierce storm of iron hail, moreover, +made inaction more and more intolerable. + +The time was come! Lord Raglan turned and spoke five words to General +Airey. The next minute staff-officers were galloping to each division +with the glad tidings: "The line will advance!" + +All along it men rose from the ground with a resolute air, fell into +their ranks, and then the "Thin Red Line," having a front of two miles +and a depth of two men, marched grandly to the fight. + +It is with the doings of the Second Division, or more exactly with +Wilders's brigade of that body, that we are now principally concerned. + +The task before it was arduous and full of danger, demanding devoted +courage and unflinching hearts. + +At the moment of the advance the village immediately in front of them +burst into flames--a fierce conflagration, lighted by the retreating +foe. The dense columns of smoke hid the batteries beyond, and +magnified the dangers of attack; the fierce fire narrowed the path of +progress and squeezed in the advancing line. On the left, the Light +Division, moving forward with equal determination, still further +limited the ground for action; and, thus straitened and compressed, +the division marched upon a small front swept by a converging fire. So +cruelly hampered was the Second Division, so stinted in breathing +space, that a portion of General Wilders's command was shut out of the +advancing line, and circled round the right of the burning village. + +In this way the Royal Picts got divided; part went with the right of +the brigade, still under the personal direction of its brigadier; part +stuck to the main body, and followed on with the general tide of +advance. With the latter went the headquarters of the regiment; its +colonel, colours, and sergeant-major. + +They were travelling into the very jaws of death, as it seemed. +Progress was slow, and hindered by many vexatious obstacles--low walls +and brushwood, ruined cottages, and many dangerous pitfalls on the +vine-clad slopes--obstacles that forbade all speed, yet gave no cover +from the pitiless fire that searched every corner, and mowed men down +like grass. + +Casualties were terribly numerous; yet still the line, undaunted but +with sadly decreasing numbers, kept on its perilous way. Presently, +having won through the broken ground, a new barrier interposed. They +came upon the rapid river, rushing between steep banks, and deep +enough to drown all who risked the fords. But there was no pause or +hesitation; the men plunged bravely into the water, and, battling +with the torrent, crossed, not without difficulty and serious loss. + +Colonel Blythe, with the Royal Picts, was one of the first men over. +He rode a snow-white charger, which he put bravely at the steep bank, +and clambered up with the coolness of one who rode well to hounds. He +gained the top, and served as a rallying-point for the shattered +remnant of his regiment, which there quickly re-formed with as much +coolness and fastidious nicety as on a barrack-square at home. + +They were under shelter here, and, pausing to recover breath, could +look round and watch how the fight fared towards the left. + +At this moment the Light Division had effected a lodgment in the great +redoubt; but, even while they gazed, the Russian reserves were forcing +back the too-presumptuous few. Behind, a portion of the brigade of +Guards was advancing to reinforce the wavering line and renew the +attack. Beyond, further on the left, in an échelon, advanced three +lines, one behind the other, the Highlanders and their stout leader, +Sir Colin Campbell. + +It was only a passing glimpse, however, that our friends obtained. +Their leader knew that the fortunes of the day were still in doubt, +and that every man must throw his weight into the scale if victory was +to be assured. + +The line was again ordered to advance. The slope was steeper now; they +were scaling, really, the heights themselves. Just above them yawned +the mouths of the heavy guns that had been dealing such havoc while +they were painfully threading the intricacies of the low ground. + +"We must drive them out of that!" shouted old Blythe. "That battery +has been playing the mischief with us all along. Now, lads, shoulder +to shoulder; reserve your fire till we are at close quarters, then +give them the cold steel!" + +The Royal Picts set up a ringing cheer in cordial response to their +chieftain's call. The cheer passed quickly along the line, and all +again pressed forward in hot haste, with set teeth, and bayonets at +the charge. + +A withering fire of small arms met the Royal Picts as they approached +the battery; it was followed by the deafening roar of artillery; and +the murderous fire of the guns, great and small, nearly annihilated +the gallant band. Small wonder, then, that the survivors halted +irresolute, half disposed to turn back. Colonel Blythe was down. They +missed his encouraging voice; his noble figure was no more visible, +while his fine old white charger, riderless, his flanks streaming with +gore, was galloping madly down the hill. Many more officers were laid +low by this murderous discharge; amongst others, Anastasius Wilders +had fallen, severely wounded, and his blood had spurted out in a great +pool upon the colour he carried. + +All this happened in less time than it takes to describe. It was one +of those moments of dire emergency, of great opportunity--suddenly +arising, gone as swiftly beyond recall, unless snatched up and dealt +with by a prompt, audacious spirit. + +Young McKay saw it with the unerring instinct of a true soldier. He +acted instantaneously, and with bold decision. + +Stooping over his prostrate cousin, who lay entangled amidst the folds +of the now crimson silk, he gently detached the colour, and, raising +it aloft, cried-- + +"Come on, Royal Picts!" + +The men knew his voice, and, weakened, though not dispirited, they +gallantly responded to the appeal. Once more the line pressed forward. +The short space between them and the earthwork was quickly traversed. +Before the artillery could deal out a second salvo, the Royal Picts +were over the parapet and in the thick of the Russians, bayoneting +them as they stood at their guns. + +The battery was won. + +"Well done, sergeant-major--right well done! I saw it all. It shan't +be forgotten if we two come out of this alive!" + +The speaker was Colonel Blythe, who, happily, although dismounted by +the shot that wounded his horse, had so far escaped unhurt. + +"But this is no time for compliments; we must look to ourselves. The +enemy is still in great strength. They are bringing up the reserves." + +Above the battery a second line of columns loomed large and menacing. +Was this gallant handful of Englishmen, which had so courageously +gained a footing in the enemy's works, to bear the brunt of a fresh +conflict with a new and perfectly fresh foe? The situation was +critical. To advance would be madness; retreat was not to be thought +of; yet it might cost them their lives to maintain the ground they +held. + +While they paused in anxious debate, there came sounds of firing from +their right, aimed evidently at the Russians in front of them, for the +shot and shell ploughed through the ranks of the foe. + +"What guns can those be?" asked Colonel Blythe. "They are catching +them nicely in flank." + +"French, sir, I expect," replied McKay. "That is the side of their +attack." + +"Those are English guns, I feel sure. I know the crack they make." + +He was right; the guns belonged to Turner's battery, brought up at the +most opportune juncture by Lord Raglan's express commands. To +understand their appearance, and the important part they played in +deciding the battle on this portion of the field, we must follow the +other wing of the Royal Picts, which, when separated from the rest of +the brigade, passed round the right flank of the village. + +Hyde was with this detachment, and, as he afterwards told McKay, he +saw Lord Raglan and his staff ride forward, alone and unprotected, +across the river, straight into the enemy's position. In the river +two of his staff were shot down, and the commander-in-chief promptly +realised the meaning of this fire. + +"Ah!" he cried. "If they can enfilade us here, we can certainly +enfilade them on the rising ground above. Bring up some guns!" + +It was not easy travelling for artillery, but Turner was a man whom no +difficulties dismayed. Within an hour a couple of his guns had been +dragged up the steep gradient, were unlimbered, and served by the +officers themselves. + +It was the fire of this artillery that relieved the Royal Picts of +their most serious apprehensions. It tided them over the last critical +phase of the hotly-contested action, and completed the discomfiture of +the enemy on this side. + +Matters had gone no less prosperously on the left. The renewed attack +of the Light Division, supported by the Guards, had ended in the +capture of the great redoubt; while Sir Colin Campbell, a veteran +warrior, at the head of his "bare-legged savages," as they were +christened by their affrighted foe, had made himself master of the +Kourgané Hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AFTER THE BATTLE. + + +The Battle of the Alma was won! Three short hours had sufficed to +finish it, and by four o'clock the enemy was in full retreat. It was a +flight rather than a retreat--a headlong, ignominious stampede, in +which the fugitives cast aside their arms, accoutrements, knapsacks, +everything that could hinder them as they ran. Pursuit, if promptly +and vigorously carried out, would assuredly have cost them dear. But +the allies were short of cavalry; the British, greatly weakened by +their losses in this hard-fought field, could spare no fresh troops to +follow; the French, although they had scarcely suffered, and had a +large force available, would do nothing more; St. Arnaud declared +pursuit impossible, and this, the first fatal error in the campaign, +allowed the beaten general to draw off his shattered battalions. + +But, if the allied leaders rejected the more abiding and substantial +fruits of victory, they did not disdain the intoxicating but empty +glories of an ovation from their troops. The generals were everywhere +received with loud acclaims. + +Deafening cheers greeted Lord Raglan as he rode slowly down the line. +The cry was taken up by battalion after battalion, and went echoing +along--the splendid, hearty applause of men who were glorifying their +own achievements as well. + +There was joy on the face of every man who had come out of the fight +unscathed--the keen satisfaction of success, gloriously but hardly +earned. Warm greetings were interchanged by all who met and talked +together. Thus Lord Raglan and Sir Colin Campbell, both Peninsular +veterans, shook hands in memory of comradeship on earlier fields. Few +indeed had thus fought together before; but none were less cordial in +their expressions of thankfulness and cordial good-will. They told +each other of their adventures in the day--its episodes, perils, +narrow, hair-breadth escapes! they inquired eagerly for friends; and +then, as they learnt gradually the whole terrible truth, the awful +price at which victory had been secured, moments that had been radiant +grew overcast, and short-lived gladness fled. + +"Next to a battle lost, nothing is so dreadful as a battle won," said +Wellington, at the end, too, of his most triumphant day. The +slaughter is a sad set-off against the glory; groans of anguish are +the converse of exulting cheers. The field of conquest was stained +with the life's blood of thousands. The dead lay all around; some on +their backs, calmly sleeping as though death had inflicted no pangs; +the bodies of others were writhed and twisted with the excruciating +agony of their last hour. The wounded in every stage of suffering +strewed the ground, mutilated by round shot and shell, shattered by +grape, cut and slashed and stabbed by bayonet and sword. + +Their cries, the loud shriek of acute pain, the long-drawn moan of +the dying, the piercing appeal of those conscious, but unable to move, +filled every echo, and one of the first and most pressing duties for +all who could be spared was to afford help and succour. + +Now the incompleteness of the subsidiary services of the English army +became more strikingly apparent. It possessed no carefully organised, +well-appointed ambulance trains, no minutely perfect field-hospitals, +easily set up and ready to work at a moment's notice; medicines were +wanting; there was little or no chloroform; the only surgical +instruments were those the surgeons carried, while these indispensable +assistants were by no means too numerous, and already worked off their +legs. + +Parties were organised by every regiment, with stretchers and +water-bottles, to go over the field, to carry back the wounded to the +coast, and afford what help they could. The Royal Picts, like the +rest, hasten to send assistance to their stricken comrades. The +bandsmen, who had taken no part in the action, were detailed for the +duty, and the sergeant-major, at his own earnest request, was put in +charge. + +As they were on the point of marching off, General Wilders rode up. He +had been separated, it will be remembered, from part of his brigade, +and had still but a vague idea of how it had fared in the fight. + +"I saw nothing of you, colonel, during the action. Worse luck I went +with the wrong lot, on the right of the village." + +"It is well some of the regiment escaped what we went through," said +Colonel Blythe, sadly. "My left wing was nearly cut to pieces. I was +never under such a fire." + +"How many have you lost, do you suppose?" + +"We are now mustering the regiment: a sorrowful business enough. Seven +officers are missing." + +"What are their names?" + +"Popham, Smart, Drybergh, Arrowsmith--" + +"Anastasius--my young cousin--is he safe?" hastily interrupted the +general. + +Colonel Blythe shook his head. + +"I missed him half way up the hill; he was carrying the regimental colour, +but when we got into the battery it was in the sergeant-major's hands. I +wish to bring his--the sergeant-major's--conduct especially before your +notice, general." + +"The sergeant-major's? Very good. But if he took the colour he must +know what happened to Anastasius. Call him, will you?" + +Sergeant-major McKay came up and saluted. + +"Mr. Wilders, sir," he told the general, "was wounded as we were +breasting the slope." + +"You saw him go down? Where was he hit?" + +"I hadn't time to wait, sir." + +"I should think not," interrupted Colonel Blythe; "but for him, +general, we should never have carried the battery. I was dismounted, +the men were checked, and just at the right moment the sergeant-major +led them on." + +"Bravely done, my lad! You shall hear of this again; I will make a +special report to the commander of the forces. But there, that will +keep. We must see after this poor boy." + +"I was just sending off a party for the purpose," said the colonel. + +"That's right. You have some idea, I suppose"--this was to McKay--"of +the place where Mr. Wilders fell?" + +"Certainly, sir. I think I can easily find it." + +"Very well; show us the way. And you, Powys"--this was to the +aide-de-camp--"ride over to the Royal Lancers and tell Hugo Wilders +what has happened." + +Then the little band of Good Samaritans set out upon its painful +mission. The autumn evening was already closing in; the night air blew +chill across the desolate plain; already numbers of men were busy +amongst the wounded, assuaging their thirst from water-bottles, +covering the prostrate forms with blankets, and lending the surgeons a +helping hand. + +Half an hour brought the searchers of the Royal Picts to where young +Anastasius Wilders lay. McKay was the first to find him, and he raised +a shout of recognition as he ran forward to the wounded officer. +Unslinging his water-bottle, he put it to his cousin's lips; but young +Wilders waved the precious liquid aside, saying, although in a feeble +voice-- + +"Thank you; but I can wait. Give it to that poor chap over there; he +is far worse hit than I am." + +It was a private of the regiment, whose breast a bullet had pierced, +and whose tortures seemed terrible. + +But now the rest of the party came up. General Wilders dismounted, +flask in hand, and the wounded lad was rewarded for his self-denial. + +A surgeon, too, had arrived, and he was anxiously questioned as to the +nature of young Wilders's wound. + +The right leg had been shattered below the knee by a round shot; the +wound had bled profusely, but the poor lad managed to stanch it with +his shirt. + +"Can you save it?" whispered the general. + +"Impossible!" replied the surgeon, in the same tone. + +"We must amputate above the knee at once," and he turned up his +sleeves and gave instructions to an assistant to get ready the +instruments. + +The operation, performed without chloroform, and borne with heroic +fortitude, was over when Hugo Wilders rode up to the spot. Anastasius +recognised his brother, and answered his anxious, sorrowful greeting +with a faint smile. + +"What is to be done with him now?" asked the general. + +"We must get him on board ship--to-night, if possible; but how?" + +"We will carry him every inch of the way," said one of the bandsmen of +the Royal Picts. Young Wilders was idolised by the men. + +"It is three miles to the sea-shore: a long journey." + +"They can march in two reliefs, four carrying, four resting," said +McKay. + +"You must be very careful," said the surgeon. + +"Never fear! We will carry him as easy as a baby in its cot," replied +one of the soldiers. + +"Yes, yes! you can trust us," added McKay. + +"Are you going with them?" asked the general. + +"I should like to do so, sir." + +"And of course I shall go too," added Captain Wilders; and the +procession, thus formed, wended its way to the shore. + +It was midnight before McKay and the stretcher-party were relieved of +their precious charge, and when they had seen the wounded officer +embarked in one of the ship's boats, accompanied by his brother, they +laid down where they were to rest and await the daylight. + +Soon after dawn they were again on the move making once more for the +heights above the river, where they had left their regiment. Once +more, too, they traversed the battle-field, with its ghastly sights +and distressing sounds. It was still covered with the bodies of the +dead and dying, their numbers greatly increased, for many of the +wounded had succumbed to the tortures of the night. The figures of +ministering comrades still moved to and fro, and men of all ranks were +busily engaged in the good work. + +There were others whose action was more open to +question--camp-followers and sutlers, dropped from no one knew where, +who lurked in secret hiding-places, and issued forth, when the coast +seemed clear, to follow their loathsome trade of robbing the dead. + +McKay's little party, as they trudged along, suddenly put up one of +these evil birds of prey almost at their feet. The man rose and ran +for his life, pursued by the maledictions of the Royal Picts. + +"Stop him! Stop him!" they cried, and the fugitive was met and turned +at every point. But he doubled like a hare, and had nearly made his +escape when he fell almost into the arms of Sergeant Hyde. + +"Stick to him!" cried McKay. "We will hand him over to the +provost-marshal, who will give him a short shrift." + +A fierce struggle ensued between the fugitive and his captor, the +result of which seemed uncertain; but the former suddenly broke loose, +and again took to his heels. He made towards the French lines, and +disappeared amongst the clefts of the steep rocks. + +When McKay joined Hyde, he said to him, rather angrily-- + +"Why did you let the fellow go?" + +"I did my best, but he was like an eel. I had far rather have kept +him. I have wanted the scoundrel these dozen years." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes," replied Hyde, sternly. "I know him well, but I thought that he +was dead. It is better so; we have a long account to settle, and the +day of reckoning will certainly come." + +Thus ended the first collision between the opposing armies: the first +great conflict between European troops since Waterloo. The credit +gained by the victors, whose prowess echoed through the civilised +world, was greater, perhaps, than the results achieved. The Alma, as +we shall see, might have paved the way, under more skilful leadership, +to a prompt and glorious termination of the war. But, if it exercised +no sufficient influence upon the larger interests of the campaign, the +battle greatly affected the prospects of the principal character in +this story. + +Sergeant-major McKay was presently informed that, in recognition of +the signal bravery he had displayed at the storming of the Causeway +battery, his name had been submitted to the Queen for an ensign's +commission in the Royal Picts. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CATCHING A TARTAR. + + +After their victory at the Alma the allies tarried long on the ground +they had gained. There were many excuses, but no sound reasons, for +thus wasting precious moments that would never return. It was alleged +that more troops had to be landed; that the removal of the sick and +wounded to ship-board consumed much time; that further progress must +be postponed until the safest method of approaching Sebastopol had +been discussed in many and lengthy councils of war. + +Yet at this moment the great fortress and arsenal lay at their mercy. +They had but to put out their hands to capture it. Menschikoff's +beaten army was long in rallying, and when at last it resumed the +coherence of a fighting force its leader withdrew it altogether from +Sebastopol, thus abandoning the fortress to its fate. + +Its chief fortifications now were on the northern side, that nearest +the allies, and within a short day's march. Only one redoubt--the +so-called Star Fort--was of any formidable strength, and as this was +close to the sea-shore it was exposed to the bombardment of the fleets. +But the Star Port lay before the French, supposing that the original +order of march was preserved; and the French, exaggerating its powers +of resistance, could not be persuaded to face the risks of assault. +The fact was, St. Arnaud lay dying, and for the moment all vigour was +gone from the conduct of the French arms. + +Little doubt exists to-day that the northern fortifications could not +have resisted a determined attack. That it was not attempted was +another grave error; to be followed by yet another, when, after a +hazardous detour--the well-known "flank march"--the allies transferred +themselves to the southern side of Sebastopol, and again neglected a +palpable opportunity. The north side might be fairly well protected; +the south was practically defenceless; a few weak earth-works, +incomplete, and without artillery, were its only bulwarks; its only +garrison were a few militia battalions and some hastily-formed +regiments of sailors from the now sunken Russian ships of war. + +It must undoubtedly have fallen by a _coup de main_. But generals +hesitated and differed, bolder spirits were overruled, undue weight +was given to the too-cautious counsels of scientific soldiers, and it +was decided to sit down before and slowly besiege the place. + +The chance on which the allies turned their backs was quickly seized +by the enemy. One of the brightest pages in modern military annals is +that which records how the genius and indomitable energy of one man +improvised a resolute and protracted defence; and none have done +fuller justice to Todleben than the foes he so long and gallantly kept +at bay. + +The allies now entered, almost with light hearts, upon a siege that +was to last for eleven weary months and prove the source of unnumbered +woes. In a comfortable leisurely fashion they proceeded to break +ground, to open trenches, and approach the enemy's still unfinished +works by parallel and sap. The siege-train--the British War Minister's +fatal gift, encouraging as it did the policy of delay--was landed, as +were vast supplies of ammunition and warlike stores. Tents, too, were +brought up to the front, and the allied encampment soon covered the +plateau from the Tchernaya to the sea. The troops soon settled down in +their new quarters, and the heights before Sebastopol grew gradually a +hive of military industry, instinct with warlike sounds, teeming with +soldier life. + +The Royal Picts found themselves posted on the uplands above the +Tchernaya valley, very near the extreme right of the British front, +and here they took their share of the duties that now fell upon the +army, furnishing fatigue-parties to dig at the trenches, and armed +parties to cover them as they worked, and pickets by day and night to +watch the movements of the enemy. + +Since McKay's official recommendation for a commission, he had been +entrusted with duties above his position as sergeant-major. The +adjutant had been badly wounded at the Alma, and it was generally +understood that when promoted McKay would succeed him. Meanwhile he +was entrusted with various special missions appertaining to the rank +he soon expected to receive. + +One of these was his despatch to Balaclava to make inquiries for the +knapsacks of the regiment. They had been left on board ship, and the +transport had been expected daily in Balaclava harbour. The men were +sadly in want of a change of clothes, and neither these nor the little +odds and ends that go to make up a soldier's comfort were available +until they got their packs. McKay was directed to take a small party +with him to land the much-needed baggage and have it conveyed by hook +or crook to the front. + +He left the camp late in the afternoon, and, striking the great +Woronzoff Road just where it pierced the Fediukine Heights, descended +it until he reached the Balaclava plain. A few miles beyond, the +little town itself was visible, or, more exactly, the forest of masts +that already crowded its little land-locked port. + +Here, on the right of the communications between the English army and +its base, a long range of redoubts had been thrown up and garrisoned +by the Turks. These crowned the summit of a range of low hillocks, +and, in marching to his point, McKay paused on the level ground +between two hills. The Turks on sentry gave him a "Bono Johnny!" as he +passed, by way of greeting; but they were far too lazy and too sleepy +to do more. + +It was evident they kept a poor look-out, and doubtful strangers were +as free to pass as British friends. Just upon the rear of No. 3 +Redoubt McKay and his men came upon a fellow crouching low amongst the +broken ground. McKay would have passed by without remark, but his +first look at the stranger, who wore no uniform and seemed a harmless, +unoffending Tartar peasant, was followed by a second and keener gaze. +He thought he recognised the man; he certainly had seen his face +before. Directing his men to seize him, he made a longer and closer +inspection, and found that it was the ruffian whom they had surprised +and chased on the heights above the Alma the morning after the battle. + +"He is up to no good," said McKay. "We must take him along with us." + +But where? The job they were on was a definite one; not the capture of +chance prisoners, which would certainly delay them on the road. + +Still, remembering the last occasion on which he had seen this man, +and the mysterious remarks that Hyde had let fall concerning him, +McKay felt sure the fellow was not what he seemed. This Tartar dress +must be a disguise: how could Hyde have made the acquaintance years +before of a Tartar peasant in the Crimea? + +Certainly the man must go with them, and therefore, placing him +securely in the midst of his party, McKay marched on. If nothing +better offered, he would hand his prisoner over to the Commandant of +Balaclava on arrival there. + +But as they trudged along, and, leaving the cavalry-encampment on +their right, approached the ground occupied by the Highland brigade, +they encountered its general--McKay had seen him at the Alma--riding +out, accompanied by his staff. + +The quick eye of Sir Colin Campbell promptly detected the prisoner. He +rode up at once to the party, and said, in a sharp, angry tone-- + +"What are you doing with that peasant? Don't you know that the orders +are positive against molesting the inhabitants? Who is in command of +this party?" + +McKay stood forth and saluted. + +"You? A sergeant-major? Of the Royal Picts, too! You ought to know +better. Let the man go!" + +"I beg your pardon, Sir Colin," began McKay; "but--" + +"Don't argue with me, sir; do as I tell you. I have a great mind to +put you in arrest." + +McKay still stood in an attitude of mute but firm protest. + +"What does the fellow mean? Ask him, Shadwell. I suppose he must have +some reason, or he would not defy a general officer like this." + +Captain Shadwell, one of Sir Colin's staff, took McKay aside, and, +questioning him, learnt all the particulars of the capture. McKay told +him, too, what had occurred at the Alma. + +"The fellow must be a spy," said Sir Colin, abruptly, when the whole +of the facts were repeated to him. "We must cross-question him. I +wonder what language he speaks." + +The general himself tried him with French; but the prisoner shook his +head stupidly. Shadwell followed with German, but with like result. + +"I'll go bail he knows both, and English too, probably. He ought to be +tried in Russian now: that's the language of the country. He is +undoubtedly an impostor if he can't speak that. I wish we could try +him in Russian. If he failed, the provost-marshal should hang him on +the nearest post." + +This conversation passed in the full hearing of McKay, and when Sir +Colin stopped the sergeant-major stepped forward, again saluted, and +said modestly-- + +"I can speak Russian, sir." + +"You? An English soldier? In the ranks, too? Extraordinary! How on +earth--but that will keep. We will put this fellow through his +facings at once. Ask him his name, where he comes from, and all about +him. Tell him he must answer; that his silence will be taken as a +proof he is not what he pretends. No real Tartar peasant could fail to +understand Russian." + +"Who and what are you?" asked McKay. And this first question was +answered by the prisoner with an alacrity that indicated his +comprehension of every word that had been said. He evidently wished to +save his neck. + +"My name is Michaelis Baidarjee. Baidar is my home; but I have been +driven out by the Cossacks to-day." + +It was a lie, no doubt. Hyde had recognised him as a very different +person. + +"Ask him what brings him into our lines?" said Sir Colin, when this +answer had been duly interpreted. + +"I came to give valuable information to the Lords of the Universe," he +replied. "The Russians are on the move." + +"Ha!" Sir Colin's interest was aroused. "Go on; make him speak out. +Say he shall go free if he tells us truly all he knows." + +"Where are the Russians moving?" asked McKay. + +"This way"--the man pointed back beyond Tchorgorum. "They are +collecting over yonder, many, many thousands, and are marching this +way." + +"Do you mean that they intend to attack us?" + +"I think so. Why else do they come? Yesterday there were none. All +last night they were marching; to-morrow, at dawn, they will be here." + +"Who commands them?" + +"Liprandi. I saw him, and they told me his name." + +"This is most important," said Sir Colin; "we must know more. Find +out, sergeant-major, whether he can go back safely." + +"Back within the Russian lines?" + +"Exactly. He might go and return with the latest news." + +"You would never see the fellow again, Sir Colin. He is only +humbugging us--" + +"Put the question as I direct you," interrupted the general, abruptly. +"What we want is information; it must be got by any means." + +"Yes, I will go," the prisoner promised, joining his hands with a +gesture as if taking an oath; "and I would return this very night; you +shall have the exact numbers; shall know the road they are coming, +when to expect them--all." + +"Let him loose, then," said the general; "but warn him, if he plays us +false, that he had better not fall into our clutches again." + +"You may trust him not to do that, sir," said McKay, rather +discontented at seeing his prisoner so easily set free. + +The general ignored the remark, but he was evidently displeased at its +tone, for he now turned sharply on McKay, saying-- + +"As regards you--how comes it you speak Russian?" + +"I was born in Moscow." + +"Of Russian parents?" + +"My father was a Pole by birth, but by extraction a Scotchman." + +"What is your name?" + +"McKay--Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"Ah! Stanislas; I understand that. But how is it you were christened +Wilders? And Anastasius, too--that is a family name, I think. Are you +related to Lord Essendine?--a Wilders, in fact?" + +"Yes, sir, by my mother's side." + +"And yet you have taken the Queen's shilling! Strange! But it is no +business of mine. Young scapegrace, I suppose--" + +"My character is as good as--" "yours," McKay would have said, but +his reverence for the general's rank restrained him. "I enlisted +because I could not enter the British army and be a soldier in any +other way." + +"With your friends'--your relatives'--approval?" + +"With my mother's, certainly; and of those nearest me." + +"Do you know General Wilders--here in the Crimea, I mean?" + +"My regiment is in his brigade." + +"Yes, yes! I am aware of that. But have you made yourself known to +him, I mean?" + +The young sergeant-major knew that his gallantry at the Alma had won +him his general's approval, but he was too modest to refer to that +episode. + +"I have never claimed the relationship, sir," he answered, simply, but +with proud reticence; "it would not have beseemed my position." + +"Your sentiments do you credit, young man. That will do; you can +continue your march. Good-day!" + +They parted; McKay and his men went on to Balaclava, the general +towards the Second Division camp. + +"Curious meeting, that, Shadwell," said Sir Colin. "If I come across +Wilders I shall tell him the story. He might like to do his young +relative--a smart soldier evidently, or he would not be a +sergeant-major so early--a good turn." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"NOT WAR!" + + +The spy, whatever his nationality, and however questionable his +antecedents, was right in the intelligence he had communicated. A +large Russian force was even then on the march from Tchorgorum, +pointing straight for the Balaclava plain. The enemy had regained +heart; emboldened by the constant influx of reinforcements, and the +inactivity of the allies, he had grown audacious, and was ready to try +a vigorous offensive. A blow well aimed at our communications and +delivered with intention might drive us back on our ships, perhaps +into the sea. + +McKay had passed the night at Balaclava. The transport with the +knapsacks was not yet in port, and he was loth to return to camp +empty-handed. But next morning, soon after daylight, news came back +to the little seaside town that another battle was imminent, on the +plains outside. + +The handful of Royal Picts were promptly mustered by their young +commander, and marched in the direction of the firing, which was +already heard, hot and heavy, towards the east. + +As they left Balaclava, they encountered a crowd of Turkish soldiers +in full flight, making madly for the haven, and shouting, "Ship! +ship!" as they ran. McKay, gathering from this stampede that already +some serious conflict had begun, hurried forward to where he found a +line of red-coats drawn up behind a narrow ridge which barred the +approaches to Balaclava. + +This was the famous 93rd, in its now historic formation--another "Thin +Red Line," which received undaunted, and only two deep, the onslaught +of the Russian horse. + +The regiment was under the personal control of its brigadier, stout +old Sir Colin, who, with his staff, stood a little withdrawn, but +closely observing all that passed. He recognised McKay, and called out +abruptly-- + +"Halloa! where have you dropped from?" + +"I heard the firing, sir, met the Turks retreating, and brought up my +party to reinforce and act as might be ordered." + +"It was well done, man. But, enough; get yourselves up into line there +on the left, and take the word from the colonel of the 93rd." + +"We have our work cut out for us, sir," said one of his staff to Sir +Colin. + +"We have, but we'll do it. This gorge must be held to the death. You +understand that, Colonel Ainslie--to the death?" + +"You can trust us, Sir Colin." + +"I think so; but I'll say just one word to the men," and, while the +enemy's cavalry were still some distance off, the general rode slowly +down the line, speaking his last solemn injunction-- + +"Remember, men, there is no retreat from here. You must die where you +stand." + +One and the same answer rose readily to every lip-- + +"Ay! ay! Sir Colin; we'll do that!" shouted the gallant Scots.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Historical. _cf._ Kinglake's "Crimea," v. 80.] + +Their veteran leader's head was clear; his temper cool and +self-possessed. He held these brave hearts in hand like the rider of a +high-couraged horse, and knew well when to restrain, when to let go. + +As the Russians approached, a few eager spirits would have rushed +forward from their ranks to encounter their foe in the open plain; but +Sir Colin's trumpet voice checked them with a fierce-- + +"Ninety-third! Ninety-third! None of that eagerness!" + +And then a minute or two later came the signal for the whole line to +advance. The Highlanders, and those with them, swiftly mounted to the +crest of the ridge, and met the charging cavalry with a withering +volley. A second followed. The enemy had no stomach for more; reining +in their horses, they wheeled round and fell back as they had come. + +This, however, was only the beginning of the action. Heavy columns of +the enemy now appeared in sight, cavalry and infantry, with numerous +artillery crowning the eastern hills. A portion occupied the redoubts +abandoned by the Turks, and the attitude of the Russians was so +menacing that it seemed unlikely we could stay their onward progress. + +For the moment no troops could be interposed but the British +cavalry--the two brigades, Light and Heavy--which had their encampment +in the plain, and had been under arms, commanded by Lord Lucan, since +daybreak. + +"We must have up the First and Fourth Divisions," Lord Raglan had +said, when he arrived on the battle-field soon after eight in the +morning; at first he had treated the news of the Russian advance +lightly. Many such moves had been reported on previous days, and all +had ended in nothing. "Let the Duke of Cambridge and Sir George +Cathcart have their orders at once. We must trust to the cavalry till +the infantry come up. Tell Scarlett to support the Turks." + +But the Turks had given way before General Scarlett could stiffen +their courage, and as his brigade, that of heavy cavalry, trotted +towards the redoubts, other and more stirring work offered itself. The +head of a great column of Russian horse, three thousand sabres, came +over the crest of the hill and invited attack. + +Scarlett saw his opportunity, and, with true soldierly promptitude, +seized it. He wheeled his squadrons into line and charged. Three went +against the front, five against the right flank, one against the left. + +The intrepid "Heavies," outnumbered fivefold, dashed forward at a hand +gallop, and were soon swallowed up in the solid mass. But it could not +digest the terrible dose. Just eight minutes more and the Russian +column wavered, broke, and turned. + +It was a fine feat of arms, richly meriting its meed of praise. + +"Well done! well done!" was the message that came direct from Lord +Raglan, on the hills above. + +"Greys! Gallant Greys!" cried Sir Colin Campbell, galloping up to one +of the regiments that had made this charge. "I am sixty-one years old, +but if I were young I should be proud to be in your ranks!" + +"What luck those Heavies have!" shouted another and a bitterly +discontented spectator of their prowess. + +It was Lord Cardigan who, at the head of the Light Brigade, sat still +in his saddle, looking on. + +Yet it was no one's fault but his own that he had not been also +engaged. His men were within striking distance; they were bound, +moreover, by the clearest canons of the military art to throw their +weight upon the exposed flank of the discomfited foe. + +But Lord Cardigan had strangely--obstinately, indeed--misunderstood +his orders, and, although chafing angrily at inaction, conceived that +it was his bounden but distasteful duty to halt where he was. + +"Why don't he let us loose at them? Was there ever such a chance?" +muttered Hugo Wilders, audibly, and within earshot of his chief. He +was again riding as extra aide to Lord Cardigan, who turned fiercely +on the speaker. + +"How dare you, sir, question my conduct? You shall answer for your +insubordination--" + +"Let me implore you, my lord, to advance," said another voice, +entreating earnestly, that of Captain Morris, a cavalry officer who +knew war well, and who was, for the moment, in command of a +magnificent regiment of Lancers. + +"It is not your business to give me advice," replied the general, +haughtily. "Wait till I ask for it." + +"But, my lord, see! the Russians are reeling from the charge of the +Heavies. Now if ever--" + +"Enough, Captain Morris. My orders were to defend this position; and +here I shall stay. I was told to attack nothing unless they came +within reach. The enemy has not yet done that." + +So the chance of annihilating the Russian cavalry was lost, and the +Light Brigade thought that its chances of distinction were also gone +for the day. Alas! the hour of its trial was very close at hand. + +Lord Raglan had waited anxiously for the infantry divisions he had +ordered up. The first, under the Duke of Cambridge, was now close at +hand, and the fourth, led by Sir George Cathcart, had arrived at a +point whence it might easily have reached out a hand to recover the +redoubts. But Cathcart's advance was so leisurely that Lord Raglan +feared he would be too late to prevent the Russians from carrying off +the guns they had captured from the Turks. The enemy, it must be +understood, were showing manifest signs of despondency: their +shattered cavalry had gone rapidly to the rear, and their infantry had +halted irresolute, inclined also to retreat. + +"This is the moment to strike them," decided Lord Raglan. "They are +evidently losing heart, and we ought to get back the redoubts easily. +I will send the cavalry. They are almost on the spot, and at any rate +can get quickly over the ground. Ride, sir," to an aide-de-camp, "and +tell Lord Lucan to recover the heights. Tell him he will have +infantry, two whole divisions, in support." + +They watched the aide-de-camp deliver his message; but still Lord +Lucan, who was in supreme command of the cavalry, made no move. + +"What is he at?" cried Lord Raglan, testily. "He is very long about +it." + +"There is no time to lose, my lord," interposed the +quartermaster-general, who had been intently watching the redoubts +with his field-glasses. "I can see them bringing teams of horses into +the redoubts. They evidently mean to carry off our guns." + +The necessity for action was more than ever urgent and immediate. + +"Lord Lucan must be made to move. Here, Airey! send him a peremptory +order in writing." + +The quartermaster-general produced pencil and paper from his +sabretash, and wrote as follows:-- + +"Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, and +try to prevent the enemy from carrying away the guns. Immediate." + +"That will do," said Lord Raglan. "Let your own aide-de-camp carry the +order. He is a cavalry officer, and can explain, if required." + +It was Nolan, the enthusiastic, ardent, devoted cavalry soldier, heart +and soul, and overflowing now with joy at his mission, and the chances +of distinction it offered the cavalry. A fine, fearless horseman, he +galloped at a breakneck pace down the steep and rocky sides of the +plateau, and quickly reached Lord Lucan's side. + +The general read his orders, with lips compressed and lowering brow. + +"You come straight from Lord Raglan? But, surely, you are General +Airey's aide-de-camp?" + +"Lord Raglan himself entrusted me with the message." + +"I can't believe it. It is utterly impracticable: for any useful +purpose. Quite unequal, quite inadequate, to the risks and frightful +loss it must entail." + +The impetuous aide-de-camp showed visible signs of impatience. While +the general debated and discussed his orders, instead of executing +them with instant, unquestioning despatch, a great opportunity was +flitting quickly by. + +"Lord Raglan's orders are"--Nolan spoke with an irritation that was +disrespectful, almost insubordinate--"his lordship's orders are that +the cavalry should attack immediately." + +"Attack, sir!" replied Lord Lucan, petulantly; "attack what? What +guns?" + +"There, my lord, is your enemy," replied Nolan, with an excited wave +of his arm; "there are your guns!" + +The exact meaning of the gesture no man survived to tell, but its +direction was unhappily towards a formidable Russian battery which +closed the gorge of the north valley, and not to the heights crowned +by the captured redoubts. + +Lord Lucan, heated by the irritating language of his junior officer, +must have lost his power of discrimination, for although his first +instructions clearly indicated the guns in the redoubt, and his +second, brought by Nolan, obviously referred to the same guns, the +cavalry general was misled--by his own rage, or Nolan's sweeping +gesture, who shall say?--misled into a terrible error. + +He conceived it to be his duty to send a portion of his cavalry +against a formidable battery of Russian guns, well posted as they +were, and already sweeping the valley with a well-directed, murderous +fire. + +Of the two cavalry brigades, the Light was still fresh and untouched +by the events of the day. The Heavy Brigade, as we have seen, had +already done splendid service in routing the Russian cavalry. The turn +of the Light Brigade had come, although, unhappily, the task entrusted +to it was hopeless, foredoomed to failure from the first. + +It stood close by, proudly impatient, its brigadier, Lord Cardigan, at +its head. + +To him the divisional general imparted Lord Raglan's order. + +"You are to advance, Lord Cardigan, along the valley, and attack the +Russians at the far end," was the order he gave. + +"Certainly, sir," replied Lord Cardigan, without hesitation. "But +allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the +valley in our front, and batteries and riflemen on each flank." + +"I can't help that," said Lord Lucan; "Lord Raglan will have it so. +You have no choice but to obey." + +Lord Cardigan saluted with his sword; then, rising in his stirrups, he +turned to his men, and cried aloud in a full, firm voice-- + +"The brigade will advance!"--to certain death, he might have added, +for he knew it, although he never quailed. But, settling himself in +his saddle, as though starting on a promising run with hounds, and not +on a journey from which there was no return, he said, with splendid +resignation, as he prepared to lead the charge-- + +"Here goes for the last of the Brudenells!"[2] + +[Footnote 2: The family name of the Earls of Cardigan was Brudenell.] + +All this had passed in a few minutes, and then three lines of +dauntless horsemen--in the first line, Dragoons and Lancers; in the +second, Hussars; in the third, Hussars and more Dragoons--galloped +down the north valley on their perilous and mistaken errand. + +They were already going at full speed, when a single horseman, with +uplifted arm and excited gesture, as though addressing the brigade, +crossed their front. It was Nolan, who thus seemed to be braving the +anger of Lord Cardigan by interfering with the leadership of his men. + +What brought Nolan there? The inference is only fair and reasonable +that at the very outset he had recognised the misinterpretation of +Lord Raglan's orders, and was seeking to change the direction of the +charging horsemen, diverting them from the Russian battery towards the +redoubts, their proper goal. + +Fate decreed that this last chance of correcting the terrible error +should be denied to the Light Brigade. A Russian shell struck Nolan +full in the chest, and "tore a way to his heart." By his untimely +death the doom of the light cavalry was sealed. + +As the devoted band galloped forward to destruction, all who observed +them stood horror-stricken at the amazing folly of this mad, mistaken +charge. + +"Great heavens!" cried Lord Raglan. "Why, they will be destroyed! Go +down, Calthorpe, and you, Burghersh, and find out who is responsible +for this frightful mistake!" + +"Magnificent!" was the verdict of Bosquet, a friendly but experienced +French critic. "But it is not war." + +Not war--murder, rather, and sudden death. + +The ceaseless fire of the guns they faced wrought fearful havoc in the +ranks of the horsemen as they galloped on. Still the survivors went +forward, unappalled; but it was with sadly diminished numbers that they +reached the object of their attack. The few that got to the guns did +splendid service with their swords. The gunners were cut down as they +stood, and for the moment the battery was ours. But it was impossible to +hold it; the Light Brigade had almost ceased to exist. Presently its +shattered remnants fell slowly back, covered by the Heavies against the +pursuit of the once more audacious Russian cavalry. + +Barely half an hour had sufficed for the annihilation of nearly six +hundred soldiers, the flower of the British Light Horse. The northern +valley was like a shambles, strewn with the dead and dying, while all +about galloped riderless horses, and dismounted troopers seeking to +regain their lines on foot. Quite half of the whole force had been +struck down, among the rest Hugo Wilders, whose forehead a grape-shot +had pierced. + +The muster of regiments after such a fight was but a mournful +ceremony. When at length the now decimated line was re-formed, the +horror of the action was plainly seen. + +"It was a mad-brained trick," said Lord Cardigan, who had marvellously +escaped--"a monstrous blunder, but it was no fault of mine." + +"Never mind, my lord!" cried many gallant spirits. "We are ready to +charge again!" + +"No, no, men," replied Lord Cardigan, hastily; "you have done enough." + +It was at this moment that Lord Raglan rode up, and angrily called +Lord Cardigan to account. + +"What did you mean, sir, by attacking guns in front with cavalry, +contrary to the usages of war?" + +"You must not blame me, my lord," replied Lord Cardigan. "I only +obeyed the orders of my superior officer," and he pointed to Lord +Lucan, whom Lord Raglan then addressed with the severe reproof-- + +"You have sacrificed the Light Brigade, Lord Lucan. You should have +used more discretion." + +"I never approved of the charge," protested Lord Lucan. + +"Then you should not have allowed it to be made." + +The battle of Balaclava was practically over, and, although they had +suffered no reverse, its results were decidedly disadvantageous to the +allies. The massacre of the Light Brigade encouraged the Russian +general to advance again; his columns once more crossed the Woronzoff +road, and re-occupied the redoubts in force. The immediate result was +the narrowing of the communications between the front and the base. +The use of a great length of this Woronzoff road was forbidden, and +the British were restricted to the insufficient tracks through +Kadikoi. A principal cause this of the difficulties of supply during +the dread winter now close at hand. + +Another lesser result of the Russian advance was that McKay and his +men that afternoon were unable to rejoin their regiment by the road +they had travelled the day before. He returned to camp by a long and +circuitous route, through Kadikoi, instead of by the direct Woronzoff +road. + +It was late in the day, therefore, when he was once more at his +headquarters. He had much to tell of his strange adventures on these +two eventful days, and the colonel, who had at once sent for him, kept +him in close colloquy, plying him with questions about the battle, for +more than an hour. It was not till he had heard everything that +Colonel Blythe handed the sergeant-major a bundle of letters and +papers, arrived that morning by the English mail. + +"There is good news for you, McKay," said he. "I was so interested in +your description that I had forgotten to tell you. Let me congratulate +you; your name is in the _Gazette_," and the Colonel, taking McKay's +hand, shook it warmly. + +McKay carried off his precious bundle to his tent, and, first untying +the newspaper, hunted out the _Gazette_. + +There it was-- + +"The Royal Picts--Sergeant-Major Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay to +be Ensign, _vice_ Arrowsmith, killed in action." + +They had lost no time; the reward had followed quickly upon the +gallant deed that deserved it. Barely a month had elapsed since the +Alma, yet already he was an officer, bearing the Queen's commission, +which he had won with his own right arm. + +His letters were from home--from his darling mother, who, in simple, +loving language, poured forth her joy and pride. + +"My dearest, bravest boy," she said, "how nobly you have justified the +choice you made; you were right, and we were wrong in opposing your +earnest wish to follow in your poor father's footsteps--would that he +had lived to see this day! It was his spirit that moved you when, in +spite of us all, of your uncles' protests and my tears, you persisted +in your resolve to enlist. They said you had disgraced yourself and +us. It was cruel of them; but now they are the first to come round. I +have heard from both your uncles; they are, of course, delighted, and +beg me to give you their heartiest good wishes. Uncle Ralph said +perhaps he would write himself; but he is so overwhelmed with work at +the Munitions Office he may not have time. Uncle Barto you will, +perhaps, see out in the Crimea; he has got command of the _Burlington +Castle_, one of the steamers chartered from his Company, and is going +at once to Balaclava. + +"Oh, my sweet son be careful of yourself!" went on the fond mother, +her deep anxiety welling forth. "You are my only, only joy. I pray God +hourly that He may spare your precious life. May He have you in His +safe keeping!" + +The reading of these pleasant letters occupied Stanislas till +nightfall. Then, utterly wearied, but with a thankful, contented +heart, he threw himself upon the ground, and slept till morning. + +When he issued forth from his tent it was to receive the cordial +congratulations of his brother officers. Sergeant Hyde came up, too, a +little doubtfully, but McKay seized his hand, saying-- + +"You do not grudge me my good luck, I hope, old friend?" + +"I, sir?"--the address was formal, but the tone was full of heartfelt +emotion. "You have no heartier well-wisher than Colour-Sergeant Hyde. +Our relative positions have changed--" + +"Nothing can change them, or me, Hyde. You have always been my best +and staunchest friend. It is to your advice and teachings that I owe +all this." + +"Go on as you have begun, my boy; the road is open before you. Who +knows? That field-marshal's baton may have been in your pack after +all!" + +While they still talked a message was brought to McKay from General +Wilders; the brigadier wished to see him at once. + +"How is this, Mr. McKay?" said the general. "So you pretend to be a +cousin of mine? Sir Colin Campbell has told me of his meeting with +you, and now I find your name in full in the _Gazette_." + +"It is no pretence, sir," replied Stanislas, with dignity. + +"What! You call yourself a Wilders! By what right?" + +"My mother is first cousin to the present Lord Essendine." + +"Through whom?" + +"Her father, Anastasius Wilders." + +"I know--my father's brother. Then you belong to the elder branch. But +I never heard that he married." + +"He married Priscilla Coxon in 1805." + +"Privately?" + +"I believe not. But it was much against his father's wish, and his +wife was never recognised by the family. His widow--you know my +grandfather died early--married a second time, and thus increased the +breach between the families." + +"It's a strange story. I don't know what to think of it. These +statements of yours--can they be substantiated?" + +"Most certainly, sir, by the fullest proof. Besides, the present Lord +Essendine is quite aware of my existence, and has acknowledged my +relationship." + +"Never openly: you must admit that." + +"No, we were simple people; not grand enough, I suppose, for his +lordship. At any rate, we were too proud to be patronised, and +preferred to go our own way." + +"I acknowledge you, Mr. McKay, without hesitation, and am proud to own +so gallant a young man as my relative. You have indeed maintained the +soldierly reputation of our family. Shake hands!" + +"You are very kind, sir; I hope to continue to deserve your good +opinion," and McKay rose to take his leave. + +"Stay, Cousin McKay, I have more to say to you. What is this Sir Colin +tells me about your speaking Russian?" + +Stanislas explained. + +"It may prove extremely useful; we have not too many interpreters in +the army. I shall write to headquarters and report your +qualifications. Do you speak any other languages?" + +"French, Spanish, and a little Turkish." + +"By Jove! you ought to be on the staff; they want such men as you. Can +you sit on a horse?" + +"I have ridden bare-backed many a dozen miles across the moors at +home." + +"Faith! I will take you myself. I want an extra aide-de-camp, and my +cousin shall have the preference. I will send to Colonel Blythe at +once; be ready to join me. But how about your kit? You will want +horses, uniform, and--Forgive me, my young cousin: but how are you +off for cash? You must let me be your banker." + +McKay shook his head, gratefully. + +"Thank you, sir; but I have been supplied from home. One of my +uncles--my mother's half-brother--is well-to-do, and he sent me a +remittance on hearing of my promotion." + +"Well, well, as you please; but mind you come to me if you want +anything. I shall expect you to take up your duties to-morrow." They +were interrupted by all the bugles in the brigade sounding the +assembly. "What is it? The alarm?" + +"I can hear file-firing, sir, from the front." + +"An attack, evidently. Hurry back to your camp; the regiment will be +turned out by the time you get there!" + +As McKay left the general's tent he met Captain Powys. + +"The outposts have been driven in on Shell Hill and the enemy is +advancing in force," said the aide-decamp. "We shall have another +battle, I expect. It is our turn to-day." + +This was Colonel Fedeoroff's forlorn hope against our extreme right: +the sequel to Balaclava, the prelude of Inkerman--a sharp fight while +it lasted, but promptly repulsed by our men. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE GOLDEN HORN. + + +Since the English and French armies had established themselves in the +Crimea and the magnitude of their undertaking grew more and more apparent, +they had found their true base of operations at Constantinople. Here were +collected vast masses of supplies and stores, waiting to be forwarded to +the front; here the reinforcements--horse, foot, and guns--paused ere they +joined their respective armies; here hospitals, extensive, but still +ill-organised and incomplete, received the sick and wounded sent back from +the Crimea; here also lingered, crowding the tortuous streets of Mussulman +Stamboul and filling to overflowing the French-like suburb of Pera, a +strange medley of people, a motley crew of various faiths and many +nationalities, polyglot in tongue and curiously different in attire, drawn +together by such various motives as duty, mere curiosity, self-interest, +and greed. Jews, infidels, and Turks were met at every corner: the first +engaged in every occupation that could help them to make money, from +touting at the bazaars to undertaking large contracts and selling bottled +beer; the second, representatives going or coming from the forces now +devoted to upholding the Crescent; the third, mostly apathetic, +self-indulgent, corpulent old Mussulmans riding in state, accompanied by +their pipe-bearers, or sitting half-asleep in coffee-houses or at the doors +of their shops. Now and again a bevy of Turkish ladies glided by: mere +peripatetic bundles of white linen, closely-veiled and yellow-slippered; or +a Greek in his white petticoat, fierce in aspect and armed to the teeth; or +an Armenian merchant, Arnauts, Bashi-Bazouks, French Spahis, the Bedouins +of the desert, but half-disguised as civilised troops, while occasionally +there appeared, amidst the heterogeneous throng, the plain suit of grey +dittoes worn by the travelling Englishman, or the more or less simple +female costumes that hailed from London or Paris. + +Misseri's hotel did a roaring trade. It was crowded from roof-tree to +cellar. Rooms cost a fabulous price. Mrs. Wilders managed to be very +comfortably lodged there notwithstanding. + +She still lingered in Constantinople. Her anxiety for her husband +forbade her to leave the East, although she told her friends it was +misery for her to be separated from her infant boy. She might have +had a passage home in a dozen different steamers returning empty, all +of them in search of fresh freights of men or material; or there was +Lord Lydstone's yacht still lying in the Golden Horn and ready to take +her anywhere if only she said the word. But that, of course, was out +of the question, as she had laughingly told her husband's cousin more +than once when he had placed the _Arcadia_ at her disposal. + +They met sometimes, but never on board the yacht, for that would have +outraged Mrs. Wilders's nice sense of propriety. It was generally at +Scutari, where poor young Anastasius Wilders lay hovering between life +and death, for Mrs. Wilders, with cousinly kindliness, came frequently +to the wounded lad's bedside. + +She was bound for the other side of the Bosphorus as she went +downstairs one fine morning towards the end of October, dressed, as +usual, to perfection. + +A man met her as she crossed the threshold, a man dressed like, and +with the air of, an Englishman--a pale-faced, sandy-haired man, with +white eyebrows, rather prominent cheek-bones, and a retreating chin. + +"Good morning, my dear madam." He spoke with just the faintest accent, +betraying that English was not his native tongue. "Like a good Sister, +going to the hospital again?" + +Mrs. Wilders bowed, and, with heightened colour, sought to pass +hastily on. + +"What! not one word for so old a friend?" He spoke now in +French--perfect Parisian French. + +"I wish you would not address me in public: you know you promised me +that," replied Mrs. Wilders, in a tone of much vexation, tinged with +the respect that is born of fear. + +"Forgive me, madam, if I have presumed. But I thought you would wish +to hear the news." + +"News! Of what?" + +"Another battle, a fierce, terrible fight, in which, thank Heaven! the +English have suffered defeat!" He spoke with an exultation that proved +him to be a traitor, or no Englishman. + +"A battle? The English defeated?" + +"Yes; thank Heaven, beaten, massacred, disastrously defeated! It is +only the beginning of the end. We shall hear soon of far worse. The +Czar is gathering together all his strength; what can the puny forces +of the allies do against him? They will be outnumbered thousands to +one--annihilated before they can escape to their ships." + +"Pshaw! What do I care! Whether they are driven away from the Crimea, +or remain, is much the same to me. But, after all, this is mere talk; +you can't terrify me by such vapourings." + +"I tell you I know this for a fact. The Russian forces in the Crimea +have been continually reinforced for weeks past. I know it; I saw +them. I was there, in their midst, not many days ago. Besides, I am +behind the scenes, deep in their counsels. Rely upon it, the allies +are in imminent danger. You will hear soon of another and far greater +fight, after which it will be all over with your friends!" + +"Well, well! my friends, as you call them, must look to themselves. +Still, this is mere talk of what may be. Tell me what has actually +occurred. There has been a battle: are many slain? General Wilders--is +he safe?" + +"You need have no apprehensions for your dear husband, madam; his +command was not engaged. The chief brunt of the fight fell upon the +cavalry, who were cut to pieces." + +"What of young Wilders? Hugo Wilders, I mean--Lord Lydstone's +brother." + +"His name is returned amongst the killed. It will be a blow for the +noble house of Essendine, and not the only one." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The other brother, young Anastasius, whom you are going to see, +cannot survive, I hear." + +"Poor young fellows!" said Mrs. Wilders, with a well-assumed show of +feeling. + +"You pity them? I honour your sentiments, madam; but, nevertheless, +they can be spared, especially by you." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, quickly. + +"I mean that after they are gone only one obstacle intervenes between +you and all the Essendine wealth. If Lord Lydstone were out of the +way, the title and its possession would come, perhaps, to your +husband, certainly to your son." + +"Silence! Do not put thoughts into my head. You must be the very +fiend, I think." + +"I know you, Cyprienne, and every move of your mind. We are such old +friends, you see," he said, with a sneering, cynical smile. "And now, +as before, I offer you my help." + +"Devil! Do not tempt me!" + +He laughed--a cold, cruel, truculent laugh. + +"I know you, I repeat, and am ready to serve you as before. Come, or +send, if you want me. I am living here in this hotel; Mr. Hobson they +call me--Mr. Joseph Hobson, of London. My number is 73. Shall I hear +from you?" + +"No, no! I will not listen to you. Let me go!" And Mrs. Wilders, +breaking away from him, hurried down the street. + +It was not a long walk to the waterside. There she took a caique, or +local boat, with two rowers in red fezzes, and was conveyed across the +Bosphorus to the Asiatic side. + +Landing at Scutari, Mrs. Wilders went straight to the great palace, +which was now a hospital, and treading its long passages with the +facility of one who had travelled the road before, she presently +found herself in a spacious, lofty chamber filled with truckle-beds, +and converted now into a hospital-ward. + +"How is he?" she asked, going up at once to a sergeant who acted as +superintendent and head nurse. + +"Mr. Wilders, ma'am?" replied the sergeant, with a shake of the head. + +"No improvement?" + +"Far worse, ma'am, poor young chap! He died this morning, soon after +daylight." + +"And my lord--was his brother present?" + +"Lord Lydstone watched with him through the night, and was here by the +bedside when he died." + +"Where is he now? Lord Lydstone, I mean." + +"He went back on board his yacht, ma'am, I think. He said he should +like a little sleep. But he is to be here again this afternoon, for +the funeral." + +"So soon?" + +"Oh, yes! ma'am. It must take place at once, the doctors say." + +Mrs. Wilders left the hospital, hesitating greatly what she should do. +She would have liked to see and speak with Lydstone, but she had +enough good feeling not to intrude by following him on board the +yacht. + +Then she resolved to attend the funeral too. It would show her +sympathy, and Lord Lydstone would be bound to notice her. + +He did see her, and came up after the ceremony to shake her hand. + +"I am so sorry for you," she began. + +"It is too terrible!" he exclaimed. "Both in one day." + +He had heard of Balaclava, then. + +"But I can't talk about it to-day. I will call on you to-morrow, if I +may, in the morning. I am going back to England almost at once." + +He came next day, and she received him in her little sitting-room at +Misseri's. + +"You know how I feel for you," she said, giving him both her hands, +her fine eyes full of tears. "They were such splendid young fellows, +too. It is so sad--so very sad." + +"I am very grateful for your sympathy. But we will not talk about +them, please," interrupted Lord Lydstone. + +"You have my warmest and most affectionate sympathy. Is there anything +I can do to console you, to prove to you how deeply, how sincerely, I +feel for you?" + +Her voice faltered, and she seemed on the point of breaking down. + +"What news have you of the general?" asked Lord Lydstone, rather +abruptly, as though to change the conversation. + +"Good enough. He is all right," said Mrs. Wilders, dismissing inquiry +for her husband in these few brusque words. + +"I can't think of him just now," she went on. "It is you and your +great sorrow that fill all my heart. Oh, Lydstone! dear Lord Lydstone, +the pity of it!" + +This tender commiseration was very captivating. But the low, sweet +voice seemed to have lost its charm. + +"I think I told you yesterday, Mrs. Wilders, that I intended to return +to England," said Lord Lydstone, in a cold, hard voice. + +"Yes; when do you start?" + +"To-morrow, I think. Have you any commands?" + +"You do not offer me a passage home?" + +"Well, you see, I am travelling post haste," he answered. "I shall +only go in the yacht as far as Trieste, and then on overland. I fear +that would not suit you?" + +"I should be perfectly satisfied"--she was not to be put off--"with +any route, provided I go with you." + +"You are very kind, Mrs. Wilders," he said, more stiffly, but visibly +embarrassed. "I think, however, that as I shall travel day and night I +had better--" + +"In other words, you decline the pleasure of my company," she said, in +a voice of much pique. + +It was very plain that she had no longer any influence over him. + +"But why are you in such a desperate hurry, Lord Lydstone?" she went +on. + +"I have had letters, urging me to hurry home. My father and mother are +most anxious to see me; and now, after what has happened, it is right +that I should be at their side." + +"You are a good son, Lord Lydstone," she said, but there was the +slightest sneer concealed beneath her simple words. + +"I have not been what I ought, but now that I am the only one left I +feel that I must defer to my dear parents' wishes in every respect." +He said this with marked emphasis. + +"They have views for you, I presume?" Mrs. Wilders asked, catching +quickly at his meaning. + +"My mother has always wanted me to settle down in life, and my father +has urged me--" + +"To marry. I understand. It is time, they think, for you to have sown +your wild oats?" + +"Precisely. I have liked my freedom, I confess. Now there are the +strongest reasons why I should marry." + +"To secure the succession, I suppose." + +"We have surely a right to look to that!" said Lord Lydstone, rather +haughtily. + +"Oh! of course. Everyone is bound to look after his own. And the +young lady--has she been found?" + +Lord Lydstone coloured at this point-blank question. + +"I have been long paying my addresses to Lady Grizel Banquo," he said. + +"Oh! she is your choice? I have often seen her and you together." + +"We have been friends almost from childhood; and it seems quite +natural--" + +"That you should tie yourself for life to a red-headed, raw-boned +Scotch girl." + +"To an English lady of my own rank in life," interrupted Lord +Lydstone, sternly, "who will make me an honest, faithful helpmate, as +I have every reason to hope and believe." + +"You are just cut out for domestic felicity, Lord Lydstone. I can see +you a staid, sober English peer, a pattern of respectability, the stay +and support of your country, obeyed with reverent devotion by a fond +wife, bringing up a large family--" + +"As young people should be brought up, I hope--the girls as modest, +God-fearing maidens; the boys to behave like gentlemen, and to tell +the truth." + +"A very admirable system of education, I'm sure. By-and-bye we shall +see how nearly you have achieved your aim." + +She was disappointed and bitterly angry, feeling that he had rebuffed +and flouted her. + +"We part as friends, I hope?" said Lord Lydstone, rising to go. + +"Oh, certainly! why not?" she answered carelessly. + +"I trust you will continue to get good news from Cousin Bill." + +"And I that you will have a speedy voyage home. It would be provoking +to be delayed when bound on such a mission." + +Then they parted, never to meet again. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE. + + +The mixed population of Constantinople in these busy, stirring times +was ripe for any great surprise. It was much moved and excited by a +startling bit of news that spread very rapidly next day. + +An atrocious murder had been committed on the Stamboul side, near the +Bridge of Boats. + +Certainly, murders were not unknown in this hive of complex life, +harbouring as it did the very scum and refuse of European rascality. +But the victims were mostly vile, nameless vagabonds, low Greeks, +Maltese suttlers, Italian sailors, or one or other of the hybrid +mongrel ruffians following in the track of our armies, any of whom +might be sent to their long account without being greatly missed. + +It was otherwise now: the murdered man was a prominent personage, an +Englishman of high rank, a rich and powerful representative of a great +people. No wonder that Constantinople was agitated and disturbed. + +On this occasion Lord Lydstone was the murdered man. + +He had been found at daybreak by the Turkish patrol, lying in a +doorway just where he had fallen dead, stabbed to the heart. + +The body was taken to the nearest guard, and inquiries were +instituted. A card-case found on the body led to identification, and a +report made to the British Embassy set in motion the law and justice +of the peace. + +Nothing satisfactory or conclusive was brought to light. No one could +account for his lordship's presence in that, the lowest quarter of the +city; the only clue to his movements was furnished by his steward and +body-servant on board the yacht. + +The valet came on shore and gave his evidence before the informal +court, which was dealing with the case at the British Embassy, +presided over by the _attachés_. + +"When did you see his lordship last?" + +"Last night. My lord dined on board alone. He appeared depressed, and +altogether low. He told me he should go to bed early." + +"And did he?" + +"No. Late in the evening a shore-boat came off--one of those caiques, +I think they called them--with a letter, very urgent." + +"For Lord Lydstone?" + +"For his lordship. He seemed much disturbed on reading it." + +"Well?" + +"My lord called me and said he would dress to go on shore. I gave him +out the suit which he was wearing when the body was found." + +"He said nothing about the letter, or its contents?" + +"Oh, no! My lord was never given to talking much, although I was his +confidential valet since he left college. He never spoke to me of his +affairs. My lord always kept his distance, as it was proper he +should." + +"Could you tell at all what became of this letter?" + +"My lord put it in his pocket when he was dressed." + +"You are certain of this?" + +"Most positive." + +"Was any such letter found in the pockets of the deceased?" asked the +_attaché_ of the Turkish police, through the dragoman of the Embassy. + +Nothing of the kind had been found. + +"The letter was no doubt removed purposely. This would destroy all +trace of its origin. It was evidently a snare, a bait to lure the +poor lord on shore," said one _attaché_ to another. + +"It is curious that he should have been so ready to swallow it." + +"There must have been something peculiarly persuasive in the letter." + +"But we have heard that he was much distressed, or annoyed, at +receiving it." + +"Persuasive in a good or bad sense--probably the latter. At any rate, +it was sufficient to lure him on shore." + +"Of course there is something beneath all this: some intrigue, +perhaps." + +"The old story, 'who is she?' I suppose." + +"But I thought he was devoted to his cousin, the fair Mrs. Wilders." + +"Is she still in Constantinople?" + +"Yes, I think so. Still at Misseri's, I believe." + +"I wonder whether she has yet heard about this horrible affair. Some +one ought to break it to her." + +But no one was needed for a task from which all shrank, with not +unnatural hesitation. While they still talked, a message was brought +in to the effect that Mrs. Wilders was in the antechamber, and her +first words, when one of the _attachés_ joined her, plainly showed +that she had heard of Lord Lydstone's death. + +"What a horrible, frightful business!" she said, in a voice broken +with emotion. "Oh! this wicked, accursed town! How did it happen? Do +tell me all you know." + +"We are completely in the dark. We know nothing more than that Lord +Lydstone was found stabbed at daylight this morning in the streets of +Stamboul." + +"What could have taken him there?" + +The _attaché_ shrugged his shoulders. + +"There is nothing to show, except that he was inveigled by some +mysterious communication--a letter sent on board the yacht." + +"Inveigled for some base purpose--robbery, perhaps?" + +"Very probably. When the body was found, it had been rifled of +everything--watch, money, rings: everything had gone." + +Mrs. Wilders sighed deeply. It might have been a sigh of relief, but +to the _attaché_ it seemed a new symptom of horror. + +"But how imprudent--how frightfully imprudent--of the poor dear lord +to venture alone, and so late at night, into that vile quarter. What +could have tempted him?" + +"That's what we are all asking. Some unusually powerful motive must +have influenced him, we may be sure, and that I hope we may still +ascertain. It will be the first step towards detecting the authors of +the crime." + +"They will be discovered, you think?" + +"No efforts will be spared, you may be sure. The means at our disposal +are not very first-rate, perhaps, but we have been promised the +fullest help by the Turkish Minister of Police, and we shall leave no +stone unturned." + +"Oh! I do so hope that the villains will be discovered. Is there +anything I can do?" + +"Hardly, Mrs. Wilders. But, as you are the only representative of the +family, it would be well perhaps for you to go on board the yacht. +Poor Lord Lydstone's papers and effects should be sealed up. One of us +will accompany you." + +"I shall be delighted to be of any use. When shall we start?" + +"The sooner the better," said the _attaché_, Mr. Loftus by name; and, +leaving the inquiry, the two took boat, and were presently alongside +the _Arcadia_. + +They were received by the captain, a fine specimen of a west-country +sailor, a hardy seaman, well schooled in his profession, who had long +commanded a vessel in the Mediterranean trade, and was thus well +qualified to act as sailing-master in the _Arcadia's_ present cruise. + +But Captain Trejago was soft-hearted, easily led, especially by any +daughter of Eve, and he had long since succumbed to the fascinations +of Mrs. Wilders's charms. From the day she first trod the deck of the +yacht he had become her humblest, perhaps, but most devoted, admirer +and slave. + +They exchanged a few words of sympathy and condolence. + +"You have lost a good friend, Captain Trejago," said the lady. + +"He was that, ma'am. My lord was one of the finest, noblest men that +ever trod in shoe-leather. And you, ma'am--it must be very terrible +for you." + +"Losing him in such a way, it is that which embitters my grief. But +this gentleman"--she turned to Mr. Loftus--"comes from the Embassy to +seal up his lordship's papers." + +"Quite right, ma'am. That ought to be done without delay." + +"We can go down into the cabin, then?" said Mrs. Wilders. + +"Why! surely, ma'am, you ought to know the way. Mr. Hemmings"--this +was the valet--"is not on board, as you know: but I will send the +second steward if you want any help." + +Assisted by the steward, Mr. Loftus proceeded in a business-like +manner to place the seals of the Embassy upon the desk, drawers, and +other receptacles in Lord Lydstone's cabin. While they were thus +employed, Mrs. Wilders sat at the cabin-table under the skylight, her +head resting on one hand, and in an attitude that indicated the +prostration of great sorrow. The other hand was on the table, +fingering idly the various objects that strewed it. There were an +inkstand, a pen-tray, a seal, a blotting-book or portfolio, and many +other odds and ends. + +This blotting-book, with the same listless, aimless action, Mrs. +Wilders presently turned to, and turned over the leaves one by one. + +Between two of them she came upon a letter, left there by accident, or +to be answered perhaps that day. + +The feminine instinct of curiosity Mrs. Wilders possessed in no common +degree. To look at the letter thus exposed, however unworthy the +action, was a temptation such a woman could not resist. She began to +read it, almost as a matter of course, but carelessly, and with no set +purpose, as though it was little likely to contain matter that would +interest her. But after the first few lines its perusal deeply +absorbed her. A few lines more, and she closed the book, leaving her +hand inside, and looked round the cabin. + +Mr. Loftus and his assistants were still busily engaged upon their +official task. Neither of them was paying the slightest attention to +her. + +With the hand still concealed inside the blotter, she folded up this +missive which seemed so interesting and important, and, having thus +got it into a small compass, easily and quickly transferred it to her +pocket. + +She looked anxiously round, fearing she might have been observed. But +no one had noticed her, and presently, when Mr. Loftus had completed +his work, they again left the yacht for the shore. + +So soon as Mrs. Wilders regained the privacy of her own room at +Misseri's, which was not till late in the day, she took out the letter +she had laid hands on in the cabin of the yacht, and read it through +slowly and carefully. + +It was from Lord Lydstone's father, dated at Essendine Towers, the +principal family-seat. + +"My dear boy," so it ran, "your mother and I are very grateful to you +for your very full and deeply interesting letter, with its ample, but +most distressing, account of our dear Anastasius. It is a proud, but +melancholy, satisfaction to know that he has maintained the traditions +of the family, and bled, like many a Wilders before him, for his +country's cause. His condition must, however, be a constant and trying +anxiety, and I beseech you, more particularly on your mother's +account, to keep us speedily informed of his progress. It is some +consolation to think that you are by his side, and it is only right +that you should remain at Constantinople so long as your brother is in +any danger. + +"But do not, my dear boy, linger long in the East. We want you back +with us at home. This is your proper place--you who are our eldest +born, heir to the title and estates--you should be here at my side. +There are other urgent reasons why you should return. You know how +anxious we are that you should marry and settle in life. We are doubly +so now. Your brothers before this hateful war broke out made the +succession, humanly speaking, almost secure. But the chances of a +campaign are unhappily most uncertain. Anastasius has been struck +down; we may lose him, which Heaven forbid; a Russian bullet may rob +us any day of dear Hugo too. In such a dire and grievous calamity, you +alone--only one single, precious life--would remain to keep the title +in our line. Do not, I beseech you, suffer it to continue thus. Come +home; marry, my son; give us another generation of descendants, and +assure the succession. + +"I have never made any secret of my wishes in this respect; but I have +never told you the real reasons for my deep anxiety. It was my +father's earnest hope--he inherited it from his father, as I have from +mine--that the title might never be suffered to pass to his brother +Anastasius's heirs. My uncle had married in direct opposition to his +father's orders, in an age when filial disobedience was deemed a very +heinous offence, and he was cut off with a shilling. I might say that +he deserved no better; but he did not long survive to bear the penalty +of his fault. He left a child--a daughter, however--to whom I would +willingly have lent a helping hand, but she spurned all my overtures +in a way that grieved me greatly, although I never openly complained. +That branch of the family has continued estranged from us; and I am +certainly indisposed to reopen communications with them. + +"Yet the existence of that branch cannot be ignored. It might, at any +time, through any series of mishaps of a kind I hardly like to +contemplate, but, nevertheless, quite possible in this world of +cross-purposes and sudden surprises, become of paramount importance in +the family; for in point of seniority it stands next to ourselves. The +next heir to the title, after you and your brothers, is the grandson +of Anastasius Wilders, a lad of whom I know nothing, except that he is +quite unfitted to assume the dignity of an Earl of Essendine, should +fate ever will it that he should succeed. This unfitness you will +readily appreciate when I tell you that he is at present a private +soldier in a marching-regiment in the East. Stranger still, this +regiment is the same as that in which poor Anastasius is serving--the +Royal Picts. The young man's name is McKay--Stanislas Anastasius +Wilders McKay. I have never seen him; but I am satisfied of his +existence, and of the absolute validity of his claims. My agents have +long had their eye on him, and through them I have full information of +his movements and disposition. He appears a decent, good sort of +youth. But I feel satisfied that we ought, as far as is possible by +human endeavour, to prevent his becoming the head of the family. + +"You are now in possession of the whole of the facts, my dear +Lydstone, and I need scarcely insist upon the way in which you are +affected by them. You will not hesitate, I am sure, after reading +this letter, to return to England the moment you can leave your poor +brother." + +There was more in the letter, but it dealt with purely business +matters, which did not interest the person who had become +clandestinely possessed of it. + +To say that Mrs. Wilders read this letter with surprise would +inadequately express its effect upon her. She was altogether taken +aback, dismayed, horror-stricken at its contents. + +Now, when chance, or something worse, had cleared the way towards the +great end, after which she had always eagerly, but almost hopelessly, +hankered, a new and entirely unexpected obstacle suddenly supervened. + +Another life was thrust in between her and the proximate enjoyment of +high rank and great wealth. + +Who was this interloper--this McKay--this private soldier serving in +the ranks of the Royal Picts? What sort of man? What were his +prospects--his age? Was it likely that he would stand permanently in +her way? + +These were facts which she must speedily ascertain. The regiment to +which he belonged was in the Crimea, part of her uncle's brigade. +Surely through him she might discover all she wanted to know. But how +could this be best accomplished? + +The more she thought over it, the more convinced she was that she +ought to go in person to the Crimea, to prosecute her inquiries on the +spot. While still doubtful as to the best means of reaching the +theatre of war, it occurred to her that she could not do better than +make use of Lord Lydstone's yacht. + +It would have to go home eventually--to be paid off and disposed of by +Lord Lydstone's heirs. But there was surely no immediate hurry for +this, and Mrs. Wilders thought she had sufficient influence with +Captain Trejago to persuade him, not only to postpone his departure, +but to take a trip to the Crimea. + +In this she was perfectly successful, and the day after Lord +Lydstone's funeral the _Arcadia_, with a fine breeze aft, steered +northward across the Black Sea. + +It reached Balaclava on the morning of the 5th of November, and Mrs. +Wilders immediately despatched a messenger on shore to inform the +general of her arrival. That day, however, the general and his brigade +were very busily employed. It was the day of Inkerman! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"HARD POUNDING." + + +Mr. Hobson, as he called himself, had been perfectly right when he +gleefully assured Mrs. Wilders that the Russians were gathering up +their strength for a supreme effort against the allies. Reinforcements +had been steadily pouring into the Crimea for weeks past--two of the +Czar's sons had arrived to stir up the enthusiasm of the soldiers. +Menschikoff, who still commanded, counted confidently upon inflicting +exemplary chastisement upon the invaders. He looked for nothing less, +according to an intercepted despatch, than the destruction or capture +of the whole allied army. + +No doubt the enemy had now an overwhelming superiority in numbers. The +total land forces under Prince Menschikoff's command, including the +garrison of Sebastopol, were 120,000 strong. Those numbers included a +large body of cavalry and a formidable field artillery. + +The entire allied army was barely half that strength. It was called +upon, moreover, to occupy an immense front--a front which extended +from the sea at Kamiesch to the Tchernaya, and from the Tchernaya, by +a long and circuitous route, back to the sea at Balaclava. This line, +offensive as regards the siege-works, but defensive along the unduly +extended and exposed right flank at Balaclava, was close on twenty +miles. The great length of front made severe demands upon the allied +troops; it could only be manned by dangerously splitting up their +whole strength into many weak units, none of which could be very +easily or rapidly reinforced by the rest. + +Perhaps the weakest part of the whole line was the extreme right, held +at this moment by the British Second Division. Here, on an exposed and +vitally important flank, the whole available force was barely 3,000 +men. For some time past it had been intended to fortify this flank by +field-works, armed with heavy artillery. But, although the necessity +for protecting it was thus admitted, the urgency was not exactly +understood, or at least was subordinated to other operations; as a +matter of fact, this flank was "in the air," to use a military phrase, +lying quite open and exposed, with only an insufficient, greatly +harassed garrison on the spot, and no supports or reserves near at +hand. + +The utmost assistance on which this small body could count, as was +afterwards shown, under stress, too, of most imminent danger, was +14,000 men. Not that all these numbers were fully available at any one +time; they were constantly affected and diminished by casualties in +the height and heat of the action; so that never were there more than +13,000, French and English, actually engaged. + +On the other hand, the Russian attacking force was 70,000 strong, and +they had with them 235 guns. + +It was in truth another battle of giants, like Waterloo. "Hard +pounding," as the great duke said of that other fight; a fierce trial +of strength; a protracted, seemingly unequal, struggle between the +dead weight of the aggregate many and the individual prowess of the +undaunted, indomitable few. + +The enemy's plan of action had been minutely and carefully prepared. +We know it now. He meant to use his whole strength along his entire +front--in part with feigned and deceiving demonstrations to "contain" +or hold inactive the troops that faced him, in part with determined +onslaught, delivered with countless thousands, in massive columns, +against the reputed weakest point of our line. + +This plan Menschikoff hastened to put into execution. Time pressed: +the enemy had learnt through spies that an assault on Sebastopol was +close at hand. Besides, the Grand Dukes had arrived, and the troops, +worked up to the highest pitch of loyal fanatic fervour, were mad to +fight under the eyes of the sons of their father, the holy Czar. + +Dawn broke late on that drear November morning: November the 5th--a +day destined to be ever memorable in the annals of British arms: a +dawn that was delayed and darkened by dense, driving mists, and +rain-clouds, black and lowering. + +Nothing, however, had broken the repose of the British camp, or hinted +at the near approach of countless foes. + +The night had been tranquil; the enemy quiet; only, in the valley +beneath our pickets on the Inkerman heights, some sentries had heard +the constant rumbling of wheels, but their officers to whom they +reported did not interpret the same aright, as the movement of +artillery. + +An hour or more before daylight the church-bells of Sebastopol rang +out a joyous peal. Why not? It was the Sabbath morning. But these +chimes, alas! ushered in a Sunday of struggle and bloodshed, not of +peaceful devotion and prayer. + +The outlying pickets had been relieved, and were marching campwards; +the Second Division had had its customary "daylight parade"; the men +had stood to their arms for half-an-hour, and, as nothing was +stirring, had been dismissed to their tents; the fatigue-parties had +been despatched for rations, water, fuel--in a word, the ordinary +daily duties of the camp had commenced, when the sharp rattle of +musketry rang out angrily, and well sustained in the direction of our +foremost picket on Shell Hill. + +"That means mischief!" The speaker was General Codrington, who, +according to invariable rule, had ridden out before daylight to +reconnoitre and watch the enemy. "Halt the off-going pickets; we may +want all the men we can lay hands on." + +Then this prompt and judicious commander proceeded to line the +Victoria ridge, which faced Mount Inkerman, with the troops he had +thus impounded, and galloped off to put the rest of his brigade under +arms. + +The firing reached and roused another energetic general officer, +Pennefather, who now commanded the Second Division in place of De Lacy +Evans. + +"Sound the assembly!" he cried. "Let the division stand to its arms. +Every man must turn out: every mother's son of them. We shall be +engaged hot and strong in less than half-an-hour." + +As pugnacious as any terrier, Pennefather, with unerring instinct, +smelt the coming fight. + +His division was quickly formed on what was afterwards called the +"Home Ridge," and which was its regular parade-ground. But the general +had no idea of awaiting attack in this position. It was his plan +rather to push forward and fight the enemy wherever he could be found. +With this idea he sent a portion of his strength down the slope to +"feed the pickets," as he himself called it, whilst another was +advanced to the right front under General Wilders, and with this body +went the Royal Picts. The Second Division benefited greatly by this +advance, for the Russians were now absolute masters of the crest of +the Inkerman hill, where they established their batteries, and poured +forth volley after volley, all of which passed harmlessly over the +heads of our men. Meanwhile the alarm spread. A continuous firing, +momentarily increasing in vigour, showed that this was no affair of +outposts, but the beginning of a great battle. The bulk of the allied +forces were under arms, and notice of the attack had been despatched +to Lord Raglan at the English headquarters. + +In less than a quarter-of-an-hour, long before 7 a.m., Lord Raglan was +in his saddle, ready to ride wherever he might be required most. + +But whither should he go? The battle, as it seemed, was waging all +around him, on every side of the allied position. A vigorous fire was +kept up from Sebastopol; down in the Tchernaya valley the army, +supposed to be still under Liprandi, but really commanded by +Gortschakoff, had advanced towards the Woronzoff road, and threatened +to repeat the tactics of Balaclava by attacking with still greater +force the right rear of our position; last of all, around Mount +Inkerman, the unceasing sound of musketry and big guns betrayed the +development of a serious attack. + +Lord Raglan was not long in doubt. He knew the weakest point of the +British position, and rightly guessed that the enemy would know it +too. + +"I shall go to Inkerman," he said. "That is their real point, I feel +sure. And we must have up all the reinforcements we can muster. You, +Burghersh, tell Sir George Cathcart to move up his division and +support Pennefather and Brown. You, Steele, beg General Bosquet to +lend me all the men he can spare." + +Pennefather had his hands full by the time Lord Raglan arrived. With a +paltry 3,000 odd men he was confronting 25,000; but, happily, the +morning was so dark and the brushwood so thick that his men were +hardly conscious that they were thus outnumbered. + +Not that they would have greatly cared; they were manifestly animated +with a dogged determination to deny the enemy every inch of the +ground, and with unflagging courage they disputed his advance, +although they were so few. Once more it was the "Thin Red Line" +against the heavy column: hundreds against thousands, a task which for +any other troops would have been both hopeless and absurd. + +But Pennefather's people stoutly held their own. On his left front, +one wing of the 49th Regiment routed a whole Russian column, and drove +it back at the point of the bayonet down the hill; to give way in +turn, but not till it was threatened by 9,000 men. Next, four +companies of the Connaught Rangers stoutly engaged twenty times their +number, and only yielded after a stubborn fight. General Buller came +up next, with a wing of the 77th, which was faced by a solid mass five +times as strong. + +"There are the Russians," cried Egerton, who commanded the 77th. "What +shall we do, general?" + +"Charge them!" was Buller's prompt reply. + +The next instant the slender line, with a joyous hurrah, was engulfed +in a giant column. The effect was instantaneous. The Russian column +reeled before the fiery charge, wavered, then broke and fled. + +More to the right, Mauleverer prolonged the line with the 30th, and +gave so good an account of the Russians in his front that they, too, +fell back in disorder; and Bellairs, with a party of the 49th, was +equally triumphant. + +Beyond these forces, General Wilders, with whom young McKay now rode +as extra aide, led a fraction of his brigade, including the Royal +Picts, against the Sandbag Battery, a point deemed important because +it commanded the extreme right of the position. + +On the far sides of the slopes, beyond the battery were 4,000 Russian +troops, and the mere sight of Wilders with his deployed line sufficed +to shake the steadiness of the foe. The Russian bugles sounded a +retreat, the leading companies faced about, and, communicating the +panic to those behind the hill, the whole mass gave way and ran down +the slope, followed by a destructive fire from the British line. + +Thus ended the first phase of this unequal contest. Pennefather had +triumphed to an extent of which neither he nor his heroes were fully +aware. Barely 1,200 men had routed 15,000! The few had achieved a +decisive victory over the many. + +But the struggle had only just begun. Many more and still severer +trials awaited our starving, weary, sorely-beset soldiers that day. + +The enemy had numberless fresh and still untried troops at hand. +Column after column had been moving steadily forward, some from the +town, some from the eastern side of the Tchernaya, and already the +Russian generals were in a position to renew the fight. A new +onslaught was now organised, to be made by 19,000 men under cover of +ninety guns. + +So far in those early days of the battle the brunt of it had fallen +upon the Second Division, supported by a portion of the Light. Stout +old General Pennefather had had the supreme control throughout. + +"I will not interfere with you," Lord Raglan said, as, standing by his +staff, he watched the progress of the fight from the ridge. "You know +your ground, as you have occupied it so long with your camp. I'm sure +I can trust you." + +"Thank you, my lord. I'll do my best, never fear," replied +Pennefather. + +"Their artillery fire is very troublesome, and must be over-mastered. +If I could only get up some of the siege-train guns to help you. Let +some one go back to the artillery park, and tell them I want a couple +of eighteen pounders." + +An aide-de-camp at once galloped off with the order, but two or three +eventful hours elapsed before these guns were brought to bear upon the +action. + +Pennefather's men, although for the moment triumphant, had their hands +full. They showed an undaunted front or "knotted line" of +fighting-men: the remnants of the pickets, fragments, and +odds-and-ends of many regiments, mixed up and intermingled, still in +contact with the enemy, and so far still without supports. + +Officers came back rather despondingly to ask for help. + +"I cannot send you a single man," was the firm reply to one applicant. +"You must stand your ground somehow." + +"We should be all right, sir, but the men have run out of ammunition." + +"It's no use. I can't give you a round. What does it matter? Don't +make difficulties. Stick to your bayonets. And remember you've got to +hold on where you are, or we shall be driven into the sea." + +The want of cartridges was what the troops felt most direly. They +growled savagely and grumbled at the mismanagement that kept back +these indispensable supplies. + +Only here and there the energetic action of a few shrewd officers did +something to mend the mischief. + +Thus the Royal Picts benefited by the astute promptitude of +long-headed Sergeant Hyde. He was acting as quartermaster, and as such +had been left behind in camp, although sorely against his will, when +the rest of the regiment went out to fight. But he had heard the long, +well-sustained roll of musketry-fire, and it satisfied one not new to +war that a very close contest had begun. + +"They'll soon fire away their cartridges at this rate," he said to +himself. "If I could only get the ammunition-reserves up to them! I'll +do it." And on his own responsibility he laid hands on all the beasts +in camp: spare chargers, officers' ponies, and other animals, and +quickly loaded them with the cartridge-boxes. Then, leading the +cavalcade, he hurried to the front, asking as he went for the Royal +Picts. + +He found his regiment in the Sandbag Battery, and they received him, +so soon as his errand was known, with a wild cheer. + +"Excellently done!" cried Colonel Blythe. "You have a good head on +your shoulders, Hyde: ammunition was the one thing we needed." + +"Yes," shouted a brawny soldier, "we were just killed for want of +cartridges." + +"And want of food," grumbled another; "sorra bite nor sup since +yesterday." + +"Sergeant darling," said a third, "won't you sound the +breakfast-bugle? Fighting on an empty stomach is but a poor pastime." + +Thus, in the interval between two combats, but always under a galling +and destructive fire, they joked and bandied words with a freedom that +discipline would not have tolerated at any other time. + +"I think, colonel, I could bring up the rations: biscuits and cold +pork, anyhow," suggested Hyde. + +"And the grog-tub: don't forget that, sergeant" cried a fresh voice. + +"By all means, Hyde, get us what you can," replied Blythe; "the men +are all fasting, and some sort of a meal would be very good for them, +only you must keep a sharp look-out for us. We may not be still here +when you return." + +This Sandbag Battery, which for the moment the Royal Picts still held, +was the object of ceaseless contention that day. Although at best but +an empty prize, useful to neither side, because its parapet was too +high to be fired over, the battery was lost and won, captured and +recaptured, constantly during the battle. + +Even now the Russians, regaining heart, had made it the first aim of +their fresh attack. + +General Dannenberg, who was now in chief command, had a twofold +object: he was resolved to press the centre of the English position +and at the same time vigorously attack the right, throwing all his +weight first upon the Sandbag Battery. + +The small force under General Wilders, which included the Royal Picts, +soon began to feel the stress of this renewed onslaught. + +"They are coming on again and in great numbers, sir," said McKay to +his general. + +"I see, and menacing both our flanks. We shall be surrounded and +swallowed up if we don't take care." + +"Some support ought to be near by this time, sir," replied McKay. + +"Ride back, and see. I don't want to be outflanked." + +McKay retired and presently came upon two battalions of Guards, +Grenadiers and Fusiliers, advancing under the command of the Duke of +Cambridge. + +"General Wilders, sir, is very hard pressed in the Sandbag Battery," +said McKay, briefly. + +"I'll march at once to his aid," replied the duke, promptly. + +"Sir George Cathcart and part of the Fourth Division are coming up, +and not far off," added one of the staff; "we won't wait for any one. +Ride on ahead, sir,"--this was to McKay,--"and let your general know +he is about to be supported by her Majesty's Guards." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A COSTLY VICTORY. + + +Now followed one of the fiercest and bloodiest episodes of the day. + +Wilders had made the best show with his little band and clung +tenaciously to the battery yet. The Russians came on and on, with +stubborn insistence, and all along the line a hand-to-hand fight +ensued. Numbers told at length, and the small garrison was slowly +forced back, after enduring serious loss. + +It was in this retreat that General Wilders received a dangerous +wound: a fragment of a shell tore away the left leg below the knee. + +"Will some one kindly lift me from my horse?" he said quietly, +schooling his face to continue calm, in spite of the agony he +endured. + +McKay was on the ground in an instant and by his general's side. + +"Don't mind me, my boy" said the general. "Leave me with the doctors." + +"On no account, sir; I should not think of it." "Yes, yes. They want +every man. Attach yourself to Blythe; he will command the brigade now. +Do not stay with me: I insist." + +McKay yielded to the general's entreaties, but first saw the wounded +man bestowed in a litter and carried to the rear. + +Then he joined Colonel Blythe. + +But now fortune smiled again. Our artillery had stayed the Russian +advance; and the Grenadier Guards, followed by the Fusiliers, once +more regained the coveted but worthless stronghold. + +They could not hold it permanently, however: the tide of battle ebbed +and flowed across it, and the victory leant alternately to either +side. The Guards fought like giants, outnumbered but never outmatched, +wielding their weapons with murderous prowess, and, when iron missiles +failed them, hurling rocks--Titan-like--at their foes. + +Even when won this Sandbag Battery was a perilous prize: tempting the +English leaders to adventure too far to the front and to leave a great +gap in the general line of defence unoccupied and undefended. + +Lord Raglan saw the error and would have skilfully averted the +impending evil. + +"That opening leaves the left of the Guards exposed," he said to +Airey. "Tell Cathcart to fill it." + +"You are to move to the left and support the Guards," was the message +conveyed to Cathcart, "but not to descend or leave the plateau. Those +are Lord Raglan's orders." + +But Sir George chose to interpret them his own way, and already--with +Torrens's brigade and a weak body at best--he had gone down the hill +to join the Guards. In the sharp but misdirected encounter which +followed, the general lost his life, and his force, with the Guards, +were for a time cut off from their friends. + +A Russian column had wedged in at the gap and for a time forbade +retreat, but it was at length sheered off by the first of the French +reinforcements; and the intercepted British, in greatly diminished +numbers, by degrees won their way home. + +This fighting around the Sandbag Battery had cost us very dear: +Cathcart was killed, the Guards were decimated, and Wilders's brigade, +now commanded by Colonel Blythe, had fallen back, spent and +disorganised. So serious indeed were these losses that for the next +hour the brigade possessed no coherent shape, and only by dint of the +unwearied exertions of its officers was it rallied sufficiently to +share in the later phases of the fight. + +Meanwhile the centre of our line, where Pennefather stood posted on +the Home Ridge, had been furiously assailed. Gathering their forces +under shelter of a deep ravine, the Russian general sent up column +after column, first against the left and then against the right of the +Ridge. Gravely weakened by his early encounter, Pennefather had only a +handful of his own men to meet this attack. They were now pressed back +indeed, although their general was beginning to wield detachments from +other commands. A portion of the Fourth Division had been put under +his orders. + +General Cathcart, just before his death, had come to him with a +battalion of the Rifle Brigade. + +"They can do anything," he had said. "Where are they wanted most?" + +"Everywhere!" had been old Pennefather's reply. + +But now, having at hand this splendid body of infantry, of whom their +leader had been so pardonably proud, he hurled them at the flank of a +column that was forcing back its own men. + +The effect of the charge was instantaneous: the Russians could not +withstand it; and, the men of the Second Division again advancing, the +foe was pressed as far as the Barrier, where he was held at bay. + +But the left of the ridge was still menaced, although the centre was +cleared. On this flank Pennefather disposed of some new troops, also +of the Fourth Division: the 63rd and part of the 21st. + +He rode up to their head and made them a short but stirring address. + +"Now, Sixty-third, let's see what metal you are made of! The enemy is +close upon you: directly you see them, fire a volley and charge!" + +His answer was a vehement cheer. The 63rd fired as it was ordered, and +then drove the Russians down the hill. + +One more trial awaited Pennefather at this period of the battle. His +right, on the Home Ridge, was now assailed; but here again the 20th, +with their famous Minden yell--an old historical war-cry, always +cherished and secretly practised in the corps--met and overcame the +enemy. They were actively supported by the 57th, the gallant +"Diehards," a title they had earned at Albuera, one of the bloodiest +of the Peninsular fights. + +Thus, for the second time, Pennefather stood victorious on the ground +he so obstinately held. After two hours of incessant fighting the +Russians had made no headway. But although twice repulsed they had +inflicted terrible losses on our people. They had still in hand +substantial supports untouched; they had brought up more and more +guns; they were as yet far from despondent, and their generals might +still count upon making an impression by sheer weight of numbers +alone. + +As for ourselves, the English were almost at the end of their +resources. There were no fresh troops to bring up; only the Third +Division remained in reserve, and it was fully occupied in guarding +the trenches. + +The French, it is true, could have thrown the weight of many +thousands into the scale; but General Canrobert had not set his more +distant divisions in motion, and the only troops that could affect the +struggle--Bosquet's--were still far to the rear. + +In the contest that was now to be renewed the balance between the +offensive forces was more than ever unequal. + +Dannenberg gathered together upon the northern slopes of Mount +Inkerman some 17,000 men, partly those who had been already defeated, +but were by no means disheartened, and partly perfectly fresh troops. +On the other hand, Pennefather's force was reduced to a little over +3,000, to which a couple of French regiments might now be added, 1,600 +strong. The Russians had a hundred guns in position; the allies barely +half that number. + +Yet in the struggle that was imminent the battle of Inkerman was +practically to be decided. + +The Russian general had now resolved to make a concentrated attack in +column upon Pennefather's Ridge. He sent up another great mass from +the quarry ravine, flanked and covered by crowds of skirmishers. In +the centre, the vanguard pressed forward swiftly, drove back the +slender garrison of the Barrier, and advanced unchecked towards the +Ridge. There were no English troops to oppose their advance; a French +battalion only was close at hand, and they seemed to shrink from the +task of opposing the foe. + +"They do not seem very firm, these Frenchmen," said Lord Raglan, who +was closely watching events. "Why, gracious goodness, they are giving +way! We must strengthen them by some of our own men. Bring up the +55th--they have re-formed, I see. Stay! what is that?" + +As he spoke, an English staff officer was seen to ride up to the +wavering French battalion. From his raised hand and impassioned +gestures he was evidently addressing them. He was speaking in French, +too, it was clear, for his harangue had the effect of restoring +confidence in the shaken body. The battalion no longer stood +irresolute, but advanced to meet the foe. + +"Excellently done!" cried Lord Raglan. "Find out for me at once who +that staff-officer is." + +An aide-de-camp galloped quickly to the spot, and returned with the +answer-- + +"Mr. McKay, my lord, aide-de-camp to General Wilders." + +"Remember that name, Airey, and see after the young fellow. But where +is his general?" + +"Wounded, and gone to the rear, my lord," was the reply. + +The bold demeanour of the French battalion restrained the advancing +enemy until some British troops could reach the threatened point. Then +together they met the advance. The Russian attack was now fully +developed, and his great column was well up the slopes of the ridge. +While the French, animated by the warm language of Pennefather, +stopped its head, a mad charge delivered by a small portion of the +55th broke into its flank. + +The Russians halted, hesitating under this unexpected attack. +Pennefather instantly saw the check, and gave voice to a loud +"hurrah." The cry was taken up by his men, and the French drums came +to the front and sounded the _pas de charge_. With a wild burst of +enthusiasm, the allies, intermingled, raced forward, and once again +the foe was driven down the hill. At the same time his flanking +columns were met and forced back on the left by the 21st and the 63rd. + +The Barrier was again re-occupied by our troops, and the third, the +chief and most destructive Russian onslaught, had also failed. + +The day was still young; it was little past 9 a.m., and the battle as +yet was neither lost nor won. + +The Russians had been three times discomfited and driven back, but +they still held the ground they had first seized upon the crests of +the Inkerman hill, and, seemingly, defied the allies to dislodge them. + +The English were far too weak to do this. Our whole efforts were +concentrated upon keeping the enemy at bay at the Barrier, where +Blythe, now in chief command, managed with difficulty, and with a very +mixed force, to beat off assailants still pertinacious and tormenting. + +The French were now coming up in support, but of their troops already +on the ground two battalions had gone astray, wandering off on a +fool's errand towards the pernicious Sandbag Battery, where they, too, +were destined to meet repulse. + +Indeed, the Russians, despite their last discomfiture, were regaining +the ascendant. + +But now the sagacious forethought of Lord Raglan was to bear +astonishing fruit. It has been told in the previous chapter how he was +bent upon bringing up some of the siege-train guns, and how he had +despatched a messenger for them. His aide-de-camp had found the +colonel of the siege-park artillery anticipating the order. Two +18-pounders, which since Balaclava had been kept ready for instant +service, were waiting to be moved. There were no teams of horses at +hand to drag them up to the front, but the man-harness was brought +out, and the willing gunners cheerily entered the shafts, and threw +themselves with fierce energy into the collars. Officers willingly +lent a hand, and thus the much-needed ordnance was got up a long and +toilsome incline. + +It was a slow job, however, and two full hours elapsed before they +were placed in position on the right flank of the Home Ridge. + +"At last!" was Lord Raglan's greeting; "now, my lads, load and fire as +fast as you can." + +The artillery officers themselves laid their guns, which were served +and fired with promptitude and precision. + +Now followed a short but sanguinary duel. The Russian guns answered +shot for shot, and at first worked terrible havoc in our ranks. + +Colonel Gambier of the artillery was struck down: other officers were +wounded, and many of the men. + +Still Lord Raglan stood his ground, watching the action with keen +interest and the most admirable self-possession. He was perfectly +unmoved by the heavy fire and the carnage it occasioned. + +One or two of his staff besought him to move a little further to the +rear, but he met the suggestion with good-natured contempt. + +"My lord rather likes being under fire than otherwise," whispered one +aide-de-camp to another. + +He certainly took it uncommonly cool, and in the thick of it could +unbend with kindly condescension when a sergeant who was passing had +his forage-cap knocked off by the wind of a passing shot. + +"A near thing that, my man," he said, smiling. + +The sergeant--it was Hyde, returning from the Barrier, where he had +been with more ammunition--coolly dusted his cap on his knee, replaced +it on his head, and then, formally saluting the Commander-in-Chief, +replied with a self-possession that delighted Lord Raglan-- + +"A miss is as good as a mile, my lord." + +Through all this the 18-pounders kept up a ceaseless and effective +fire. They were clearly of a heavier calibre than any the Russians +owned, and soon the weight of their metal and our gunners' unerring +aim began to tell upon the enemy's ranks. + +The Russian guns were frequently shifted from spot to spot, but they +could not escape the murderous fire. + +At last, in truth, the Russian hold on Inkerman hill was shaken to the +core. + +Victory at last was in our grasp, and, but for the old and fatal +drawback of insufficient numbers, the battle must have ended in a +complete disaster for the Russian arms. A vigorous offensive, +undertaken by fresh troops, must have ended in the speedy overthrow, +possibly annihilation, of the enemy. + +But the only troops available for the purpose were the French. Bosquet +had now come up with his brigade, and D'Autemarre, released by +Gortschakoff's retreat, had followed with a second. There were thus +some seven or eight thousand French available. Still Canrobert was +disinclined to move. + +He was now with Lord Raglan on the Ridge, with his arm in a sling, for +he had just been struck by a shrapnel-shell. + +He was downcast and dejected, for Bosquet had gone off on a wild-goose +chase after two errant battalions, and had shared in their repulse. +Just now, indeed, so far from proving the saviours of the hard-pressed +English, our French allies were themselves in retreat. + +Lord Raglan strove to reassure his colleague. + +"All is going well, my general," he said; "we are winning the day." + +"I wish I could think so," replied Canrobert. + +"Well, but listen to the message my aide-de-camp has brought from +General Pennefather. What did he say, Calthorpe?" + +"General Pennefather, my lord, says he only wants a few fresh troops +to follow the enemy up now, and lick them to the devil. These are his +very words, my lord." + +Lord Raglan laughed heartily, and translated his stout-hearted +lieutenant's language literally for Canrobert. + +"Ah! what a brave man!" cried the French general, lighting up. "A +splendid general, a most valiant man." + +"You see now, general; one more effort and the day is ours. Won't you +help?" + +"But, my lord, what can I do? The Russians are all round us still, and +in great strength. See there, there, and there," he cried, pointing +with his unwounded arm. + +"Tell General Pennefather to come and speak to me at once," Lord +Raglan now said to the aide-de-camp, hoping that the gallant bearing +of the victorious veteran would infuse fresh hope in Canrobert. + +Now General Pennefather galloped up, as radiantly happy as any +schoolboy who has just finished his fifteenth round. + +"I should like to press them, my lord. They are retreating already, +and we could give a fine account of them." + +"What have you left to pursue with?" asked Lord Raglan, still hoping +to encourage the French to undertake the offensive. + +"Seven or eight hundred now, in the first brigade alone." + +"To pursue thousands!" exclaimed Canrobert, when this was interpreted +to him; "you must be mad! I will have nothing to do with this; we have +done enough for one day." + +Now again, as on the Alma, when the heights had been carried by storm, +the fruits of victory were lost by our unenterprising, over-cautious +allies. + +This, indeed, is the true story of Inkerman, as told on incontestable +evidence of the great historian of the war. The French did not rescue +the English from disaster; they were themselves repulsed. At the close +of the action, when they might have actively pursued, their +irresolution robbed the victory of its most decisive results. + +It was a terrible and far too costly victory, after all. The English +army, already terribly weak, suffered such serious losses in the fight +that there were those who would have at once re-embarked the remnants +and raised the siege. Retreat on the morrow of victory would have been +craven indeed, but to stand firm with such shattered forces was a bold +and hazardous resolve, for which Lord Raglan deserves the fullest +credit, and the coming winter, with its terrible trials, was destined +to put his self-reliance to the proof. + +It is time to return more particularly to our friends, who took part +in this hard-fought, glorious action. + +By midday the worse part of the battle was over, and although Colonel +Blythe still clung to his Barrier, whence he launched forth small +parties to harass the retreating foe, McKay was released of his +attendance upon the acting brigadier, and suffered to follow his own +general to the rear. + +They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital +marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp +found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side. + +McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief. + +"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager +interest. + +"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line." + +"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow. + +"How are you, sir?" + +"Very weak. My fighting days are done." + +"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round. +Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face. + +"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet, +and--" + +"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be +close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the +tent. + +Outside the surgeon ended the sentence he had left incomplete. + +"The general," he said, "will be in no immediate danger if we could +count upon his having proper care. With that, I think we could promise +to save his life." + +"He shall have the most devoted attention from me," began McKay. + +"We know that. But he wants more: the very best hospital treatment, +with all its comforts and appliances; and how can we possibly secure +these here on this bleak plateau?" + +Just then one of the general's orderlies came in sight and approached +McKay. + +"A letter, sir, for the general, marked 'Immediate.'" + +"The general can attend to no correspondence. You know he has been +desperately wounded." + +"Yes, sir, but the messenger would not take that for an answer." + +"Who is he?" + +"A seaman from Balaclava, belonging to some yacht that has just +arrived." + +"Lord Lydstone's perhaps. That would indeed be fortunate," went on +McKay, turning to the doctor. "It is the general's cousin, you know; +and on board the yacht--if we could get him there?" + +"That is not impossible, I think. In fact, it would have to be done." + +"Well, on board the yacht he would get the careful nursing you speak +of. Is he well enough, do you think, to read this letter?" + +"Under the circumstances, yes. Give it me, and I will take it in to +the general." + +A few minutes later McKay was again called in to the marquee. + +"Oh, McKay, I wish you would be so good--" began the wounded man. +"This letter, I mean, is from Mrs. Wilders; she has just arrived." + +"Here, in the Crimea, sir?" + +"Yes, she has come up in Lord Lydstone's yacht, and I want you to be +so good as to go to her and break the news." He pointed sadly down the +bed towards his shattered limb. + +"Of course, sir, as soon as I can order out a fresh horse I will go to +Balaclava. Perhaps I had better stay on board for a time, and make +arrangements to receive you; if Lord Lydstone will allow me, that is +to say." + +"Lord Lydstone is not there. Mrs. Wilders tells me she has come up +alone, and in the very nick of time. But now be off, McKay, and lose +no time. Be gentle with her: it will be a great shock, I am afraid." + +The aide-de-camp galloped off on his errand, and finding a boat from +the yacht waiting by the wharf in Balaclava harbour he put up his +horse and went off to the _Arcadia_. She was still lying outside. + +McKay's appearance was not exactly presentable. He had been turned out +at daybreak with the rest of the division at the first alarm, and had +had no time to attend to his toilette, such as it was in these rough +campaigning days. Since then he had been in his saddle for several +hours and constantly in the heat and turmoil of the fight. His clothes +were torn, mud-encrusted, and bloodstained; his face was black and +grimy with gunpowder smoke. + +But he had no thought of his looks as he sprang on to the white, +trimly-kept deck of the yacht. + +Captain Trejago met him. + +"Who are you?" asked the sailing-master, rather abruptly. + +"I wish to see Mrs. Wilders," replied McKay, still more curtly. + +"You had better wash your face first," said Captain Trejago, very +jealous of the proper respect due to Mrs. Wilders. "It is uncommonly +dirty." + +"And so would yours be if you had been doing what I have." + +"What might that be?" + +"Fighting." + +"Perhaps you are ready to begin again? If so, I'm your man. But you +will have to wait till we get on shore." + +"Pshaw! don't be an idiot. We have been engaged with the Russians ever +since daybreak. But there, this is mere waste of breath. I tell you I +want to see Mrs. Wilders. I come from the general. I am his +aide-de-camp. Show the way, will you?" + +"It may be as you say," muttered Trejago, not half satisfied. "But you +will have to wait till Mrs. Wilders says she will receive you." + +"What's the matter? Who is this person?" + +It was the voice of Mrs. Wilders, who now advanced from the stern of +the yacht, having seen but not overheard the latter part of the +altercation. + +McKay stepped forward. + +"I have brought you a message from the general." + +"Why did he not come himself?" + +"It was quite impossible." + +"I particularly begged him to come. Who, pray, are you? Stay!" she +went on, "I ought to know your face. We have met before: at Gibraltar, +was it not?" + +"Yes, at Gibraltar. I was the general's orderly sergeant." + +"And do you still hold the same distinguished position?" + +"No, Mrs. Wilders," said McKay, simply; "I am now a commissioned +officer, and have the honour to be the general's aide-de-camp." + +"Rapid promotion that: I hope you deserved it. May I ask your name?" + +"McKay--Stanislas McKay." + +Could it be possible? The very man she was in search of the first to +speak to her on arrival here at Balaclava! Surely there must be some +mistake! Mastering her emotion at the suddenness of this news, she +said-- + +"You will forgive my curiosity, but have you any other Christian +names?" + +"My name in full is Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"That answer is my best excuse for asking you the question. You are, +then, our cousin?" + +McKay bowed. + +"I have heard of you," said Mrs. Wilders. "Allow me to congratulate +you," and she held out her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A NOVEMBER GALE. + + +"Will you not come down into the cabin?" said Mrs. Wilders, civilly; +"the lunch is still on the table, and I daresay you will be glad of +something to eat." + +"I have not touched food all day, Mrs. Wilders." + +"You must have been very busy, then?" + +"Surely you have heard what has happened this morning?" + +Mrs. Wilders looked at him amazed. + +"A desperate battle has been fought." + +"Another!" She thought of what Mr. Hobson had told her. "How has it +ended? In whose favour? Are we safe here?" + +"There is no cause for alarm. The Russians have been handsomely beaten +again; but we have suffered considerable loss," he said, hesitating a +little, fearing to be too brusque with his bad news. + +"Is that why the general could not come?" + +"Exactly. He has had a great deal to do." + +"Nothing should have prevented him from coming here." + +It never seemed to have occurred to her that he had been in any +danger; nor, as McKay noticed, had she asked whether he was safe and +well. + +"It was quite impossible for him to come. He--he--" + +"Pray go on! You are very tantalising." + +"The general has been badly wounded," McKay now blurted out abruptly. + +"Dear! dear!" she said, rather coolly. "I am very sorry to hear it. +When and how did it occur?" + +McKay explained. + +"Poor dear!" This was the first word of sympathy she had spoken, and +even now she made no offer to go to him. + +"The doctors think there is no great danger if--" + +"Danger!" This seemed to rouse her. "I trust not." + +"No danger," went on McKay, "if only he can be properly nursed. They +were glad to hear of the arrival of the yacht, and think he ought to +be moved on board." + +"Oh, of course this will be the best place for him. When can he be +brought? I suppose I ought to go to him. Will it be possible to get a +conveyance to the front?" + +"Nothing but an ambulance, I fear. And you know there is no road." + +"Upon my word I hardly know what to say." + +"We could manage a saddle-horse for you, I daresay." + +"I'm a very poor horsewoman: you see I'm half a foreigner. No; the +best plan will be to stay on board and get everything ready for the +poor dear man. When may we expect him?" + +"The doctors seem to wish the removal might not be delayed. You may +see us in the morning." + +"So, then, I am to have the pleasure of meeting you again, Mr. McKay?" + +"I should be sorry to leave the general while I can be of any use. He +has been a kind friend to me." + +"And you are a relation. Of course it is very natural you should wish +to be at his side. I am sure I shall be delighted to have your +assistance in nursing him," said Mrs. Wilders, very graciously; and +soon afterwards McKay took his leave. + +"So that is the last stumbling-block in my son's way: a sturdy, +self-reliant sort of gentleman, likely to be able to take care of +himself. I should like to get him into my power: but how, I wonder, +how?" + +Next day they moved the wounded general to Balaclava, and got him +safely on board the _Arcadia_. He was accompanied by a doctor and +McKay. + +Mrs. Wilders received her husband with the tenderest solicitude. + +"How truly fortunate I came here!" she said, with the tears in her +eyes. + +"Lydstone made no objection, then? Has he remained at Constantinople?" +the general asked, feebly. + +"Lydstone? Don't you know? He--" But why should she tell him? It +would only distress him greatly, and, in his present precarious +condition, he should be spared all kind of emotion. With this idea she +had begged Captain Trejago to say nothing as yet of the sad end of his +noble owner. + +"Will it not be best to get the general down to Scutari?" she asked +the doctor. + +"In a day or two, yes. When he has recovered the shaking of the move +on board." + +"The captain wanted to know. He has no wish to go inside the harbour, +as it is so crowded; but he would not like to remain long off this +coast. It might be dangerous, he says." + +"A lee-shore, you know," added Captain Trejago, for himself. "Look at +those straight cliffs; fancy our grinding on to them, with a +southerly, or rather a south-westerly, gale!" + +"Is there any immediate prospect of bad weather?" asked McKay. He and +the sailing-master were by this time pretty good friends. + +"I don't much like the look of the glass. It's rather jumpy; if +anything, inclined to go back." + +"What should you do if it came on dirty?" the skipper was asked. + +"Up stick, and run out to get an offing. It would be our only chance, +with this coast to leeward." + +Three or four days later the skipper came with a long face to the +doctor. + +"I like the look of it less and less. The glass has dropped suddenly: +such a drop as I've never seen out of the tropics. Is there anything +against our putting to sea this afternoon?" + +It so happened that General Wilders was not quite so well. + +"I'd rather you waited a day or two," replied the surgeon. "It might +make all the difference to the patient." + +"Well, if it must be," replied the captain, very discontentedly. + +"It's his life that's in question." + +"Against all of ours. But let it be so. We'll try and weather the +storm." + +Next morning, about dawn, it burst upon them--the memorable hurricane +of the 14th November, which did such appalling damage on shore and at +sea. Not a tent remained standing on the plateau. The tornado swept +the whole surface clean. + +At sea the sight as daylight grew stronger was enough to make the +stoutest heart, ignorant landsman's or practised seaman's, quail. A +whole fleet--great line-of-battle ships, a crowd of transports under +sail and steam--lay at the mercy of the gale, which increased every +moment in force and fury. The waves rose with the wind, and the white +foam of "stupendous" breakers angrily lashed the rock-bound shore. + +"Will you ride it out?" asked McKay of the captain, as the two stood +with the doctor crouched under the gunwale of the yacht and holding on +to the shrouds. + +"Why shouldn't we?" replied Trejago, shortly, as though the question +was an insult to himself and his ship. + +"That's more than some can say!" cried the doctor, pointing to one +great ship, the ill-fated _Prince_, which had evidently dragged her +anchors and was drifting perilously towards the cliffs. + +"Our tackle is sound and the holding is good," said Trejago, +hopefully. "But we ought not to speak so loud. It may alarm Mrs. +Wilders." + +"Does she not know our danger? Some one ought to tell her. You had +better go, McKay." + +The aide-de-camp made rather a wry face. He was not fond of Mrs. +Wilders, whose manner, sometimes oily, sometimes supercilious, was too +changeable to please him, and he felt that the woman was not true. + +However, he went down to the cabin, where he found Mrs. Wilders, with +a white, scared face, cowering in a corner as she listened to the +howling of the storm. + +"Is there anything the matter?" she cried, springing up as he +appeared. "Is there any danger?" + +"I trust not; still, it is well to be prepared." + +"For what? Do you mean that we may be lost, drowned--here, in sight of +port--all of us--my dear general and myself? It is too dreadful! Why +does not the captain run inside the harbour and put us on dry ground?" + +"I fear it would be too great a risk to try and make the mouth of the +harbour in this gale." + +"Then why don't you seek help from some of the other ships--the +men-of-war? There are plenty of them all around." + +"Every ship outside Balaclava is in the same stress as ourselves. They +could spare us no help, even if we asked for it." + +"What, then, are we to do?--in Heaven's name!" + +"Trust in Providence and hope for the best! But I think--if I might +suggest--it would be as well to keep the general in ignorance of our +condition, which is not so very desperate after all." + +"How do you mean?" + +"'Our cables are stout,' Captain Trejago says, and we ought to be able +to ride out the storm." + +And the _Arcadia_ did so gallantly all that day, in the teeth of the +hurricane, which blew with unabated fury for many more hours, and in +spite of the tempest-torn sea, which now ran mountains high. + +All through that anxious day Trejago kept the deck, watching the sky +and the storm. It was late in the afternoon when he said, with a sigh +of relief-- + +"The wind is hauling round to the westward; I expect the gale will +abate before long." + +He was right, although to eyes less keen there was small comfort yet +in the signs of the weather. + +It was an awful scene--ships everywhere in distress: some on the point +of foundering, others being dashed to pieces on the rocks. The great +waves, as they raged past in fearful haste, bore upon their foaming +crests great masses of wreck, the dread vestiges of terrible +disasters. Amongst the floating timbers and spars, encumbered with +tangles of cordage, floated great bundles of hay, the lost cargo of +heavily-laden transports that had gone down. + +Still, as Trejago said, there was hope at last. The gale had spent its +chief force and was no longer directly on shore. The more pressing and +immediate danger was over. + +"It won't do to stop here, though," he went on, "not one second longer +than we can help. Now that there is a slant in the wind we can run +south under a close-reefed trysail and storm-jib. What say you, +doctor?" + +"I'll step down and see the general." + +"Don't lose any time. I should like to slip my cable this next +half-hour. I shan't be happy till we've got sea-room." + +McKay went below with the doctor, and, while the latter sat with his +patient, the aide-de-camp had a short talk with Mrs. Wilders. + +"The captain wants to put to sea." + +"Never! not in this storm!" + +"It is abating fast. Besides, he says it will be far safer to be +running snug under storm-canvas than remaining here on this wild +coast." + +"I hope he will do no such thing. It will be madness. I must speak to +him at once." + +She seized a shawl, and, throwing it over her head, ran up on deck. + +McKay followed her and was by her side before she had left the +companion-ladder. + +"Take care, pray. There is a heavy sea on still and the deck is very +slippery. I will call Captain Trejago if you will wait here." + +"One moment; do not leave me, Mr. McKay. What an exciting, +extraordinary scene! But how terrible!" + +The yacht rode the waves gallantly: now on their crest, now in the +trough between two giant rollers, and always wet with spray. Fragments +of wreck still came racing by, borne swiftly by the waters and adding +greatly to the horrors of the dread story they told. + +"There must have been immense loss among the shipping," said McKay. +"It is a mercy and a marvel how we escaped." + +"The poor things! To be lost--cast away on this cruel, inhospitable +land. How very, very sad!" + +"It is safer, you see, to leave this dangerous anchorage. Do you still +want the captain? He is busy there forward." + +For the moment everyone was forward: they were all intent on the +straining cables and the muddle of gear that would have to be cleared +or cut away when they got up sail. + +So Mrs. Wilders and McKay stood at the cabin companion +alone--absolutely alone--with the raging elements, the whistling wind +still three parts of a gale, and the cruel, driving sea. + +"Shall I fetch the captain?" McKay repeated. + +"No, no! Don't disturb him; no doubt he is right. I will go below +again. This is no place for me." She took one long, last survey of the +really terrifying scene, but then, quite suddenly, there burst from +her an exclamation of horror. + +"There! there! Mr. McKay, look: on that piece of timber--a figure, +surely--some poor shipwrecked soul! Don't you see?" + +McKay, shading his eyes, gazed intently. + +"No. I can make nothing out," he said at length, shaking his head. + +"How strange! I can distinguish the figure quite plainly. But never +mind, Mr. McKay; only do something. Give him some help. Try to save +him. Throw him a rope." + +McKay obediently seized a coil of rope, and, approaching the gunwale, +said, quickly-- + +"Only you must show me where to throw." + +"There, towards that mast; it's coming close alongside." + +In her eagerness she had followed him, and was close behind as he +gathered up the rope in a coil to cast it. + +Once, twice, thrice, he whirled it round his head, then threw it with +so vigorous an action that his body bent over and his balance was +lost. + +He might have regained it, but at this supreme moment a distinct and +unmistakeable push in the back from his companion completed his +discomfiture. + +He clutched wildly at the shrouds with one hand--the other still held +the rope; but fruitlessly, and in an instant he fell down--far down +into the vortex of the seething, swirling sea. + +"Ah, traitress!" he cried, as he sank, fully conscious, as it seemed, +of the foul part she had played. + +Had she really wished to drown him? Her conduct after he had +disappeared bore out this conclusion. + +One hasty glance around satisfied her that McKay's fall had been +unobserved. If she gave the alarm at once he might still be saved. + +"Not yet!" she hissed between her teeth. "In five minutes it will be +too late to help him. The waters have closed over him--let him go +down, to the very bottom of the sea." + +But she was wise in her fiendish wickedness, and knew that as they had +been seen last together she must account for McKay's disappearance. At +the end of an interval long enough to make rescue impossible she +startled the whole yacht with her screams. + +"Help! Help! Mr. McKay! He has fallen overboard!" + +They came rushing aft to where she stood once more holding on to the +top of the companion, and plied her with questions. + +"There! there! make haste!" she cried--"for Heaven's sake make haste!" + +"A boat could hardly live in this sea," said Captain Trejago, gravely. +"Still, we must make the attempt. Who will go with me?" he asked, and +volunteers soon sprang to his side. + +It was a service of immense danger, but the boat was lowered, and for +more than half-an-hour made such diligent search as was possible in +the weather and in the sea. + +After that time the boat was brought back to the yacht by its brave +but disappointed crew. + +"No chance for the poor chap," said Captain Trejago, shaking his head +despondingly in reply to Mrs. Wilders's mute but eager appeal. + +Soon afterwards they got up the anchor, and the yacht sped southward +under a few rags of sail. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +UNCLE AND NEPHEW. + + +It will be well to relieve at once the anxiety which the reader must +feel--unless I have altogether failed to interest him--in the fate of +my hero, Stanislas McKay. + +He was not drowned when, through the fiendish intervention of Mrs. +Wilders, he fell from the deck of the _Arcadia_, and was, as it +seemed, swallowed up in the all-devouring sea. + +He went under, it is true, but only for a moment, and, coming once +more to the surface, by a few strong strokes swam to a drifting spar. +To this he clung desperately, hoping against hope that he might yet be +picked up from the yacht. Unhappily for him, the waves ran so high +that the boat under Trejago's guidance failed to catch sight of him, +and, as we know, returned presently to the _Arcadia_, after a +fruitless errand, as was thought. + +Very shortly the yacht and the half-submerged man parted company. The +former was steered for the open sea; the latter drifted and tossed +helplessly to and fro, growing hourly weaker and more and more +benumbed, but always hanging on with convulsive tenacity to the +friendly timber that buoyed him up, and was his last frail chance of +life. + +All night long he was in the water, and when day dawned it seemed all +over with him, so overpowering was his despair. Consciousness had +quite abandoned him, and he was almost at the last gasp when he was +seen and picked up by a passing steamship, the _Burlington Castle_. + +"Where am I?" he asked, faintly, on coming to himself. He was in a +snug cot, in a small but cosy cabin. + +"Where you'd never have been but for the smartness of our look-out +man," said a steward at his bedside. "Cast away, I suppose, in the +gale?" + +"No: washed overboard," replied McKay, "last evening." + +"Thunder! and in the water all those hours! But what was your craft? +Who and what are you?" + +"I was on board the yacht _Arcadia_. My name is Stanislas McKay. I am +an officer of the Royal Picts--aide-de-camp to General Wilders. Where +am I?" he repeated. + +"You'll learn that fast enough; with friends, anyhow. Doctor said you +weren't to talk. But just drink this, while I tell the captain you've +come to. He hasn't had sight of you yet; we hauled you aboard while it +was his watch below." + +Five minutes more and the captain, a jolly English tar, red in face +and round in figure, came down, with a loud voice and cheering manner, +to welcome his treasure-trove. + +"Well, my hearty, so this is how I find you, eh? Soused in brine. Why, +I hear they had to hang you up by the heels to let the water run out +of your mouth. Come, Stanny, my boy, this won't do." + +"Uncle Barto!" + +"The same: master of the steamship _Burlington Castle_, deep in +deals--timbers for huts--and other sundries, now lying in Balaclava, +waiting to be discharged. But, my dearest lad, you've had a narrow +squeak. Tell me, how did it happen, and when?" + +"I fell overboard, and I've been all night in the water: that's all." + +He did not choose as yet to make public his suspicions as to the real +origin of his nearly fatal accident. + +"I always said you had nine lives, Stanny, only don't go using them up +like this. There's not a tom-cat could stand it." + +"Were you out in the gale, uncle?" + +"Ay; and weathered it. At dawn, after the first puff, I knew we'd have +a twister, so I got up steam and regularly worked against it. Made a +good offing that way, and when the storm abated came back here. We +were close in when we picked you up on a log." + +"It was a providential escape," said Stanislas, thankfully. "I thought +it was all over with me." + +"We'll set you up in no time, never fear. But tell more about +yourself. Jove! you are a fine chap, Stanny. Why, you'll die a general +yet, if the Russians 'll let you off a little longer, and you're not +wanted for the House of Peers." + +"What do you mean, uncle?" + +"Why, of course, you haven't heard. There's trouble among your fine +relations. Lord Essendine has lost all his sons." + +"All?" + +"Yes; all. Hugo was killed, as you know; Anastasius died at Scutari; +and Lord Lydstone, two days later, was found dead in the streets of +Stamboul." + +"Dead? How? What did he die of, uncle?" + +"A stab in the heart. He was murdered." + +"And I--" + +He understood now the cause of the foul blow struck at him, and the +base attempt to get him also out of the way. + +"You are now next heir to the peerage, in spite of all they may say. +But you'll find my lord civil enough soon. He'll be wanting you to go +straight home." + +"And leave the army? Not while there's fighting to be done, Uncle +Barto. I may not be much good as I am, but I'll do all I can, trust +me. I ought to be getting on shore and back to the front." + +"My doctor will have a word to say to that. He won't let you be moved +till you're well and strong." + +But on the second day McKay, thanks to kindly care and plenty of +nourishment, was able to leave his cot, and on the third morning he +was determined to return to his duty. + +"I won't baulk you, Stanny," said his uncle; "good soldiers, like good +sailors, never turn their backs on their work. But mind, this ship is +your home whenever and wherever you like to come on board; and if you +want anything you have only to ask for it, d'ye hear?" + +McKay promised readily to draw upon his uncle when needful, and then, +his horse being still at Balaclava, he once more got into the saddle +and rode up to camp. + +The journey prepared him a little for what he found. All the way from +Balaclava his horse struggled knee-deep in mud: a very quagmire of +black, sticky slush. Yet this was the great highway--the only road +between the base of supply and an army engaged eight miles distant in +an arduous siege. Along it the whole of the food, ammunition, and +material had to be carried on pony-back, or in a few ponderous carts +drawn by gaunt, over-worked teams, which too often left their wheels +fast-caught in the mire. + +At the front--it had been raining in torrents for hours--the mud was +thicker, blacker, and more tenacious. Tents stood in pools of water; +their occupants, harassed by trench duty, lay shivering within, +half-starved and wet. + +McKay made his way at once to the colonel and reported his return. + +"Oh! so you've thought fit to come back," said Colonel Blythe, rather +grumpily. Since war and sickness had decimated his battalion he looked +upon every absentee, from whatever cause, right or wrong, as a +recreant deserter. + +"I was with my general, sir," expostulated Stanislas. + +"The general has no need of an aide-de-camp now. _We_ want every man +that can stand upright in his boots. I have given up the command of +the brigade myself so as to look the better after my men." + +McKay accepted the reproof without a murmur, and only said-- + +"Well, sir, I am here now, and ready to do whatever I may be called +upon. I feel my first duty is to my own colonel and my own corps." + +"Do you mean that, young fellow?" said the colonel, thawing a little. + +"Certainly, sir." + +"Because they want to inveigle you away--on the staff. Lord Raglan has +sent to inquire for you." + +"I have no desire to go, sir," said McKay, simply; although his face +flushed red at the compliment implied by the Commander-in-Chief's +message. + +"It seems he was pleased with the way you rallied those Frenchmen, and +he has heard you are a good linguist, and he wants to put you on the +staff." + +"I had much rather stay with the regiment, sir," said McKay. + +"Are you quite sure? You must not stand in your own light. This is a +fine chance for you to get on in the service." The colonel's voice had +become very friendly. + +"I know where my true duty lies, sir; I owe everything to you and to +the regiment. I should not hesitate to refuse an appointment on the +general staff if it were offered me now." McKay did not add that his +future prospects were now materially changed, and that it was no +longer of supreme importance to him to rise in his profession. + +"Give me your hand, my boy," said Colonel Blythe, visibly touched at +McKay's disinterestedness. "You are proving your gratitude in a way I +shall never forget. But let us talk business. You know I want you as +adjutant." + +"I shall be only too proud to act, sir." + +"I must have a good staff about me. We are in great straits; the +regiment will go from bad to worse. There are barely 200 'duty' men +now, and it will soon be a mere skeleton, unless we can take good care +of the rest." + +"Yes, sir," said McKay, feeling constrained to say something. + +"They are suffering--we all are, but the men most of all--from +exposure, cold, want of proper clothing, and, above all, from want of +proper food. This is what I wish to remedy. They are dying of +dysentery, fever, cholera--I don't know what." + +"The doctor, sir?" + +"Can do nothing. He has few drugs; but, as he says, that would hardly +matter if the men could have warmth and nourishment." + +"Something might be done, sir, with system; the quartermaster--" + +"You are right. Let us consult him. Hyde is still acting, and he has +already proved himself a shrewd, hard-headed old soldier." + +Quartermaster-sergeant Hyde--for he had accepted the grade, although +unwillingly--came and stood "at attention" before his superiors. + +"As to food, sir," he said, "the men might be provided with hot +coffee, and, I think, hot soup, on coming off duty. I am only doubtful +as to the sufficiency of fuel." + +"There is any quantity of drift-wood just now--wreckage--floating in +Balaclava Harbour," suggested McKay. + +"We must have it sir, somehow," said Hyde, eagerly. "But can we get it +up to the front?" + +"We'll lay an embargo on all the baggage-animals in camp. Take the +whole lot down to Balaclava, and lay hands on every scrap of timber." + +"As to clothing, sir, an uncle of mine has come up with a +heavily-laden ship--hutting-timbers mostly, but he may have some spare +blankets, sailors' pea-jackets, jerseys, and so forth." + +"And boots, long boots or short--all kinds will be acceptable. Get +anything and everything that is warm. I'll pay out of my own pocket +sooner than not have them. When can you start, Hyde?" + +"Now, sir, if that will suit Mr. McKay, and I can have the horses." + +The matter was speedily arranged, and in the early afternoon our hero +and Hyde were jogging back to Balaclava, at the head of a string of +animals led and ridden by a small selected fatigue-party of regimental +batmen and grooms. + +It was the first occasion on which the two friends had conversed +freely together for months. + +McKay had most to tell. He spoke first of the offer to go on the +headquarter-staff which he had refused. Then of the strange accidents +by which he had become heir presumptive to the earldom of Essendine. +Last of all, of the narrow escape he had of his life. + +Hyde pressed him on this point. + +"You fell overboard--lost your balance, eh? Entirely your own doing? +Mrs. Wilders did not help you at all?" + +"How on earth, Hyde, did you guess that? I never hinted at such a +thing." + +"I know her--do not look surprised--I know her, and have done so +intimately for years. There is nothing she would stick at if she saw +her advantage therefrom. You were in her way; she sought to remove +you, as, no doubt, she, or some one acting for her, had removed Lord +Lydstone, and--and--for all I know, ever so many more." + +"Can she be such a fiendish wretch?" + +"She is a demon, Stanislas McKay. Beware how you cross her path. But +let her also take heed how she tries to injure you again. She will +have to do with me then." + +"Why, Hyde! what extraordinary language is this? What do you know of +Mrs. Wilders? What can you mean?" + +"Some day you shall hear everything, but not now. It is too long a +story. Besides, here we are at Balaclava. Do you know where your +uncle's ship lies?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +RED TAPE. + + +"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as +McKay stepped on board the _Burlington Castle_. "I am right glad to +see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome +too. What brings you to Balaclava?" + +McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come. + +"Drift-wood--is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can +help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send +the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for +you, and load up your horses." + +Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply +of fuel, intending to return next morning to take up any other +supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this +subject that same evening. + +"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay +we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's +boots." + +"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are +being frozen to death." + +"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought +up--_greggos_, I think they call them--what those Tartar chaps wear in +Bulgaria.'" + +"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle." + +"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store." + +"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning." + +"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat +officer, as you'll see." + +Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of +long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of +professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave +to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the +narrow grooves in which he had been trained. + +The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable +chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so +he did nothing to it at all. + +When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber was being interviewed +by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown +rather serious. + +"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must +have the stoves." + +"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition +properly signed." + +"By whom?" + +"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you +refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be +complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of +the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the +senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of +division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have +the stoves." + +"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a +week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying." + +"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule." + +"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious. + +"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark, +and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards. + +"I have come for six bags of coffee." + +"Where is your requisition?" + +The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with +printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate +calculations. + +Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took +him half-an-hour. + +"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly +filled in. But you shall have the coffee--if we can find it." + +Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant +rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at +last he produced five bags, saying-- + +"You will have to do with this." + +"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are +we to roast it?" + +"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green +berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted +just before use." + +"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it," +said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away +grumbling, leaving the bags behind him. + +McKay followed him out of the store. + +"You won't take the coffee, then?" + +"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such +stuff." + +"May I have it?" + +"If you like. It's all one to me." + +"Give me the requisition, then." + +Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. +Dawber. + +"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I +will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition." + +The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags +according to form. + +McKay next attacked him about the _greggos_. Despairing, after all he +had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a +stratagem. + +"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the _Burlington +Castle_?" + +"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least +idea what's inside." + +"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?" + +"Certainly." + +"May I look at it? I come from the _Burlington Castle_, and the +captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing +the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters." + +"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's +signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?" + +"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until +the proper formalities have been observed." + +"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to +you for your suggestion." + +A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help +of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where +he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up +the _greggos_ on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph. + +From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their +condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than +the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea. + +Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they +were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a +sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with +rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde. + +He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the +Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips +of sound brandy, brought straight from the _Burlington Castle_, freely +imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of +the Royal Picts. + +"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was +trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could +make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe." + +"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That +stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork. +There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?" + +Old Hyde winked gravely. + +"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch +it." + +"You can trust me. Out with it." + +"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know +where to look for it. Anatole"--this was his French friend--"put me up +to it." + +"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?" + +"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon +horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it +is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get." + +"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will +be as well, I think, to keep your secret." + +But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts +throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury +stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its +numbers in a marvellous way--it even returned more men for duty than +corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others +in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over +and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command. + +"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we +had a few more regiments like the Picts." + +"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of +ours--that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital +quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant." + +"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan. + +McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the +Commander-in-Chief. + +"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I +have just had a letter, too, about you from England." + +"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished. + +"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less +than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on +the headquarter staff." + +McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head. + +"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment." + +"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan. +"We want him, and more of his stamp." + +"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but +I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him +so much now that everything is in good working order." + +McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by +saying-- + +"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General +Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to +Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see." + +"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster." + +"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once." + +"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde. + +"He has refused it several times," added Blythe. + +"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the +service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan +rode off. + +Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached +to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely +examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief, +General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd +judge of character. + +"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the +conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian? +German? Russian?--" + +"Yes, sir, Russian." + +"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard, +Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here." + +McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at +headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the +stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to +possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands +upon their strength. + +"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General Airey, +coming out one morning to the room in which his staff-assistants worked and +waited for special instructions. There was no one there but McKay, and he +had that instant returned from Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning, +Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it can't be helped; you must go again." + +"I am only too ready, sir." + +"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you." + +"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the +London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!" + +"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this +morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments +and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without +intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into +everything with his own eyes." + +"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow +his example," said McKay, as he hurried away. + +This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new +chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the +common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss +with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour. + +There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on +the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by +perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating +between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by +thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued +supreme. Roads, mere spongy sloughs of despond, were nearly +impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon +few would remain. + +To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance. + +"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey, +talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done +sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to +Constantinople, Italy--" + +"Spain," suggested McKay. + +"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?" + +"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses." + +"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the +quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the +subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?" + +"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well." + +"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send +you." + +This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to +be taken by Lord Raglan. + +Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the +Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward +baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +AGAIN ON THE ROCK. + + +McKay travelled as far as Constantinople in one of the man-of-war +despatch-boats used for the postal service. There he changed into a +transport homeward bound, and proceeded on his voyage without delay. + +But half-an-hour at Constantinople was enough to gain tidings of the +_Arcadia_ and her passengers. + +The yacht, he learnt, had left only a week or two before. It had +lingered a couple of months at the Golden Horn, during which time +General Wilders lay between life and death. + +Mortification at last set in, and then all hope was gone. The general +died, and was buried at Scutari, after which Mrs. Wilders, still +utilising the _Arcadia_, started for England. + +The yacht, a fast sailer, made good progress, and was already at +anchor in Gibraltar Bay on the morning that McKay arrived. + +"Shall I go on board and tax her with her misdeeds?" McKay asked +himself. "No; she can wait. I have more pressing and more pleasant +business on hand." + +His first visit was to the Convent. "You shall have every assistance +from us," said the Governor, Sir Thomas Drummond. "But what do you +propose to do, and how can I help?" + +"My object, sir, is to collect all the animals I can in the shortest +possible time. I propose, first, to set the purchase going here--under +your auspices, if you agree--then visit Alicante, Valencia, Barcelona, +and ship off all I can secure." + +"An excellent plan. Well, you shall have my hearty co-operation. If +there is anything else--" + +An aide-de-camp came in at this moment and whispered a few words in +his general's ear. + +"What! on shore? Here in the Convent, too? Poor soul! of course we +will see her. Let some one tell Lady Drummond. Forgive me, Mr. McKay: +a lady has just called whom I am bound by every principle of courtesy, +consideration, and compassion to see at once. Perhaps you will return +later?" + +McKay bowed and passed out into the antechamber. On the threshold he +met Mrs. Wilders face to face. + +"You--!" she gasped out, but instantly checked the exclamation of +chagrin and dismay that rose to her lips. + +"You hardly expected to see me, perhaps; but I was miraculously +saved." + +McKay spoke slowly, and the delay gave Mrs. Wilders time to collect +herself. + +"I am most thankful. It has lifted a load off my mind. I feared you +were lost." + +"Yes; the sea seldom gives up its prey. But enough about myself. You +are going in to see the general, I think; do not let me detain you." + +"I shall be very pleased to see you on board the yacht." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Wilders; I am sure you will. But to me such a visit +would be very painful. My last recollections of the _Arcadia_ are not +too agreeable." + +"Of course not. You were so devoted to my poor dear husband." + +Mrs. Wilders would not acknowledge his meaning. + +"But I shall see you again before I leave, I trust." + +"My stay here is very short. I am only on a special mission, and I +must return to the Crimea without delay. But we shall certainly meet +again some day, Mrs. Wilders; you may rely on that." + +There was meaning, menace even, in this last speech, and it gave Mrs. +Wilders food for serious thought. + +McKay did not pause to say more. He was too eager to go elsewhere. + +His first visit, as in duty bound, had been to report his arrival and +set on foot the business that had brought him. His second was to see +sweet Mariquita, the girl of his choice. + +They had exchanged several letters. His had been brief, hurried +accounts of his doings, assuring her of his safety after every action +and of his unalterable affection; hers were the artless outpourings of +a warm, passionate nature tortured by ever-present heartrending +anxiety for the man she loved best in the world. There had been no +time to warn her of his visit to Gibraltar, and his appearance was +entirely unexpected there. + +Things were much the same at the cigar-shop. McKay walked boldly in +and found La Zandunga, as usual, behind the counter, but alone. She +got up, and, not recognising him, bowed obsequiously. Officers were +rare visitors in Bombardier Lane and McKay's staff-uniform inspired +respect. + +"You are welcome, sir. In what can we serve you? Our tobacco is +greatly esteemed. We import our cigars--the finest--direct from La +Havanna; our cigarettes are made in the house." + +"You do not seem to remember me," said McKay, quietly. "I hope +Mariquita is well?" + +"Heaven protect me! It is the Sergeant--" + +"Lieutenant, you mean." + +"An officer! already! You have been fortunate, sir." La Zandunga spoke +without cordiality and was evidently hesitating how to receive him. +"What brings you here?" + +"I want to see Mariquita." The old crone stared at him with stony +disapproval. "I have but just arrived from the Crimea to buy horses +and mules for the army." + +"Many?" Her manner instantly changed. This was business for her +husband, who dealt much in horseflesh. + +"Thousands." + +"Won't you be seated, sir? Let me take your hat. Mariqui--ta!" she +cried, with remarkable volubility. The guest was clearly entitled to +be treated with honour. + +Mariquita entered hastily, expecting to be chidden, then paused shyly, +seeing who was there. + +"Shamefaced, come; don't you know this gentleman?" said her aunt, +encouragingly. "Entertain him, little one, while I fetch your uncle." + +"What does it mean?" asked Mariquita, in amazement, as soon as she +could release herself from her lover's embrace. "You here, Stanislas: +my aunt approving! Am I mad or asleep?" + +"Neither, dearest. She sees a chance of profit out of me--that's all. +I will not baulk her. She deserves it for leaving us alone," and he +would have taken her again into his arms. + +"No, no! Enough, Stanislas!" said the sweet girl, blushing a rosy red. +"Sit there and be quiet. Tell me of yourself: why you are here. The +war, then, is over? The Holy Saints be praised! How I hated that +war!" + +"Do not say that, love! It has been the making of me." + +"Nothing would compensate me for all that I have suffered these last +few months." + +"But I have gained my promotion and much more. I can offer you now a +far higher position. You will be a lady, a great lady, some day!" + +"It matters little, my Stanislas, so long as I am with you. I would +have been content to share your lot, however humble, anywhere." + +This was her simple, unquestioning faith. Her love filled all her +being. She belonged, heart and soul, to this man. + +"You will not leave me again, Stanislas?" she went on, with tender +insistence. + +"My sweet, I must go back. My duty is there, in the Crimea, with my +comrades--with the army of my Queen." + +"But if anything should happen to you--they may hurt you, kill you!" + +"Darling, there is no fear. Be brave." + +"Oh, Stanislas! Suppose I should lose you--life would be an utter +blank after that; I have no one in the world but you." + +McKay was greatly touched by this proof of her deep-seated affection. + +"It is only for a little while longer, my sweetest girl! Be patient +and hopeful to the end. By-and-by we shall come together, never to +part again." + +"I am weak, foolish--too loving, perhaps. But, Stanislas, I cannot +bear to part with you. Let me go too!" + +"Dearest, that is quite impossible." + +"If I was only near you--" + +"What! you--a tender woman--in that wild land, amidst all its dangers +and trials!" + +"I should fear nothing if it was for you, Stanislas. I would give you +my life; I would lay it down freely for you." + +He could find no words to thank her for such un-selfish devotion, but +he pressed her to his heart again and again. + +He still held Mariquita's hand, and was soothing her with many +endearing expressions, when La Zandunga, accompanied by Tio Pedro, +returned. + +The lovers flew apart, abashed at being surprised. + +McKay expected nothing less than coarse abuse, but no honey could be +sweeter than the old people's accents and words. + +"Do not mind us," said La Zandunga, coaxingly. + +"A pair of turtle-doves," said Tio Pedro: "bashful and timid as +birds." + +"Sit down, good sir," went on the old woman: "you can see Mariquita +again. Let us talk first of this business." + +"You want horses, I believe?" said Tio Pedro. "I can get you any +number. What price will you pay?" + +"What they are worth." + +"And a little more, which we will divide between ourselves," added the +old man, with a knowing wink. + +"That's not the way with British officers," said McKay, sternly. + +"It's the way with ours in Spain." + +"That may be. However, I will take five hundred from you, at twenty +pounds apiece, if they are delivered within three days." + +Tio Pedro got up and walked towards the door. + +"I go to fetch them. I am the key of Southern Spain. When I will, +every stable-door shall be unlocked. You shall have the horses, and +more, if you choose, in the stated time." + +"One moment, Señor Pedro; I want something else from you, and you, +señora." + +They looked at him with well-disguised astonishment. + +"I have long loved your niece; will you give her to me in marriage?" + +"Oh! sir, it is too great an honour for our house. We--she--are all +unworthy. But if you insist, and are prepared to take her as she is, +dowerless, uncultured, with only her natural gifts, she is yours." + +"I want only herself. I have sufficient means for both. They may still +be modest, but I have good prospects--the very best. Some day I shall +inherit a great fortune." + +"Oh! sir, you overwhelm us. We can make you no sufficient return for +your great condescension. Only command us, and we will faithfully +execute your wishes." + +"My only desire is that you should treat Mariquita well. Take every +care of her until I can return. It will not be long, I trust, before +this war is ended, and then I will make her my wife." + +McKay's last words were overheard by a man who at this moment entered +the shop. + +It was Benito, who advanced with flaming face and fierce, angry eyes +towards the group at the counter. + +"What is this--and your promise to me? The girl is mine; you gave her +to me months ago." + +"Our promise was conditional on Mariquita's consent," said La +Zandunga, with clever evasion. "That you have never been able to +obtain." + +"I should have secured it in time but for this scoundrel who has come +between me and my affianced bride. He'll have to settle with me, +whoever he is," and so saying, Benito came closer to McKay, whom +hitherto he had not recognised. "The Englishman!" he cried, starting +back. + +"Very much at your service," replied McKay, shortly. "I am not afraid +of your threats. I think I can hold my own with you as I have done +before." + +"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and +malice, he rushed from the place. + +When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot +Shell Ramp, she found him in a mood fit for any desperate deed. But, +with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked +him for his help. + +"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said. +"And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within +reach of the English law." + +"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently +return to the Crimea." + +"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed +with a wild hope of revenge. + +"McKay--Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts." + +It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark +eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast. + +"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of +hate. + +"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito. + +"Do so, and claim your own reward." + +"But how? When? Where?" + +"That is for you to settle. Watch him, stick to him, dog his +footsteps, follow him wherever he goes. Some day he must give you a +chance." + +"Leave it to me. The moment will come when I shall sheathe my knife in +his heart." + +"I think I can trust you. Only do it well, and never let me see him +again." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MR. HOBSON CALLS. + + +The _Arcadia_ went direct from Gibraltar to Southampton, where Mrs. +Wilders left it and returned to London. + +It was necessary for her to review her position and look things in the +face. Her circumstances were undoubtedly straitened since her +husband's death. She had her pension as the widow of a general +officer--but this was a mere pittance at best--and the interest of the +small private fortune settled, at the time of the marriage, on her and +her children, should she have any. Her income from both these sources +amounted to barely £300 a year--far too meagre an amount according to +her present ideas, burdened as she was, moreover, with the care and +education of a child. + +But how was she to increase it? The reversion of the great Wilders +estates still eluded her grasp; they might never come her way, +whatever lengths she might go to secure them. + +"Lord Essendine ought to do something for me," she told herself, as +soon as she was settled in town. "It was not fair to keep the +existence of this hateful young man secret; my boy suffers by it, poor +little orphan! Surely I can make a good case of this to his lordship; +and, after all, the child comes next." + +She wrote accordingly to the family lawyers, Messrs. Burt and Benham, +asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior +partner, Mr. Burt. + +He was blandly sympathetic, but distant. + +"Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I +presume, a business visit, may I ask--" + +"I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine." + +"On what grounds?" + +"My infant son is the next heir." + +"Nay; surely you know--there is another before him?" + +"Before my boy! Who? What can you mean? Impossible! I have never heard +a syllable of this. I shall contest it." + +It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her +position. + +"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are +perfectly sound." + +"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see +Lord Essendine myself." + +"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in +Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed +greatly under recent afflictions." + +"He must and shall know how I am situated." + +"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no +right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will +meet you in a liberal spirit." + +So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to +Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a +handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a +house and make herself a home. + +Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not +only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort +and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way--a +small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing +from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she +kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook. + +There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or +Benito's Spanish knife might yet rid her of the one obstacle that +still stood between her son and the inheritance of great wealth. + +It was with a distinct annoyance, then, while leading this tranquil +but luxurious life, that her man-servant brought in a card one +afternoon, bearing the name of Hobson, and said, "The gentleman hopes +you will be able to see him at once." + +"How did you find me out?" she asked, angrily, when her visitor--the +same Mr. Hobson we saw at Constantinople--was introduced. + +"Ah! How do I find everything and everybody out? That's my affair--my +business, I may say." + +"And what do you want?" went on Mrs. Wilders, in the same key. + +"First of all, to condole with you on the loss of so many near +relatives. I missed you at Constantinople after Lord Lydstone's sad +and dreadful death." + +Mrs. Wilders shuddered in spite of herself. + +"You suffer remorse?" he said, mockingly. + +She made a gesture of protest. + +"Sorrow, I should say. Yet you benefited greatly." + +"On the contrary, not at all. Another life still intervenes." + +"Another! and you knew nothing of it! Impossible!" + +"It is too true. I am as far as ever from the accomplishment of my +hopes." + +"Who is this unknown interloper?" + +"An English officer, at present serving in the Crimea. His name is +McKay: Stanislas McKay." + +"The name is familiar; the Christian name is suggestive. Do you know +whether he is of Polish origin?" + +"Yes, I have heard so. His father was once in the Russian army." + +"It is the same, then. There can be no doubt of it. And you would like +to see him out of the way? I might help you, perhaps." + +"How? I have my own agents at work." + +"He is in the Crimea, you say?" + +"Yes, or will be within a few weeks." + +"If we could inveigle him into the Russian lines he would be shot or +hanged as a traitor. He is a Russian subject in arms against his +Czar." + +"It would be difficult, I fear, to get him into Russian hands." + +"Some stratagem might accomplish it. You have agents at work, you say, +in the Crimea?" + +"They can go there." + +"Put me in communication with them, and leave it all to me." + +"You will place me under another onerous obligation, Hippolyte." + +"No, thanks. I am about to ask a favour in return. You can help me, I +think." + +"Yes? Command me." + +"You have many acquaintances in London; your late husband's friends +were military men. I want a little information at times." + +Mrs. Wilders looked at him curiously. + +"Why don't you call things by their right names? You would like to +employ me as a spy--is that what you mean?" + +"Well, if you like to put it so, yes. I suppose I can count upon you?" + +"I am sorry not to be able to oblige you, but I am afraid I must say +no." + +"You are growing squeamish, Cyprienne, in your old age. To think of +your having scruples!" + +"I despise your sneers. It does not suit me to do what you wish, +that's all; it would be unsafe." + +"What have you to lose?" + +"All this." She waved her hand round the prettily-furnished room. +"Lord Essendine has been very kind to me, and if there were any +suspicions--if any rumour got about that I was employed by or for +you--he would certainly withdraw the income he gives me." + +Mr. Hobson laughed quietly. + +"You have given yourself away, as they say in America; you have put +yourself in my hands, Cyprienne. I insist now upon your doing what I +wish." + +"You shall not browbeat me!" She rose from her seat, with indignation +in her face. "Leave me, or I will call the servants." + +"I shall go straight to Lord Essendine, then, and tell him all I know. +How would you like that? How about your allowance, and the protection +of that great family? Don't you know, foolish woman, that you are +absolutely and completely in my power?" + +Mrs. Wilders made no reply. Her face was a study; many emotions +struggled for mastery--fear, sullen obstinacy, and impotent rage. + +"Come, be more reasonable," went on Mr. Hobson, "Our partnership is of +long standing; it cannot easily be dissolved; certainly not now. After +all, what is it I ask you? A few questions put adroitly to the right +person, an occasional visit to some official friend; to keep your eyes +and ears open, and be always on the watch. Surely, there is no great +trouble, no danger, in that?" + +"If you will have it so, I suppose I must agree. But where and how am +I to begin?" + +"I leave it all to you, my dear madam; you are much more at home in +this great town than I am. I can only indicate the lines on which you +should proceed." + +"How shall I communicate with you?" + +"Only by word of mouth. When you have anything to say, write to +me--there is my address"--he pointed to his card--"Duke Street, St. +James's. Write just three lines, asking me to lunch, nothing more; I +shall understand." + +"And about this hated McKay?" + +"Let me know when he returns to the Crimea. We shall be able to hit +upon a plan then. But it will require some thought, and a reckless, +unscrupulous tool." + +"I know the very man. He is devoted to my interests, and a bitter +enemy of McKay's." + +"We shall succeed then, never fear," and with these words Mr. Hobson +took his leave. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +WAR TO THE KNIFE. + + +Since we left him at Gibraltar McKay had led a busy life. The "Horse +Purchase" was in full swing upon the north front, where, in a short +space of time, many hundreds of animals were picketed ready for +shipment to the East. Having set this part of his enterprise on foot, +he had proceeded to the Spanish ports on the Eastern coast and +repeated the process. + +Alicante was the great centre of his operations on this side, and +there, by means of dealers and contractors, he speedily collected a +large supply of mules. They were kept in the bull-ring and the grounds +adjoining, a little way out of the town. A number of native muleteers +were engaged to look after them, and McKay succeeded in giving the +whole body of men and mules some sort of military organisation. + +They were a rough lot, these local muleteers, the scum and riff-raff +of Valencia--black-muzzled, dark-skinned mongrels, half Moors, half +Spaniards, lawless, turbulent, and quarrelsome. + +Fights were frequent amongst them--sanguinary struggles, in which the +murderous native knife played a prominent part, and both antagonists +were often stabbed and slashed to death. + +The local authorities looked askance at this gathering of rascaldom, +and gave them a wide berth. But McKay went fearlessly amongst his +reprobate followers, administering a rough-and-ready sort of +discipline, and keeping them as far as possible within bounds. + +It was his custom to pay a nightly visit to his charge. He went +through the lines, saw that the night-patrols were on the alert, and +the rest of the men quiet. + +Repeatedly the overseers next him in authority cautioned him against +venturing out of the town so late. + +"There are evil people about," said his head man, a worthy "scorpion," +whom he had brought with him from Gibraltar. "Your worship would do +better to stay at home at night." + +"What have I to fear?" replied McKay, stoutly. "I have my revolver; I +can take care of myself." + +They evidently did not think so, for it became the rule for a couple +of them to escort him back to town without his knowledge. + +They followed at a little distance behind him, carrying lanterns, and +keeping him always in sight. + +One night McKay discovered their kind intentions, and civilly, but +firmly, put an end to the practice. + +Next night he was attacked on his way back to the hotel. A man rushed +out on him from a dark corner, and made a blow at his breast with a +knife. It missed him, although his coat was cut through. + +A short encounter followed. McKay was stronger than his assailant, +whom he speedily disarmed; but he was not so active. The fellow +managed to slip through his fingers and run; all that McKay could do +was to send three shots after him, fired quickly from his revolver, +and without good aim. + +"Scoundrel! he has got clear away," said McKay, as he put up his +weapon. "Who was it, I wonder? Not one of my own men; and yet I seemed +to know him. If I did not think he was still at Gibraltar, I should +say it was that miscreant Benito. I shall have to get him hanged, or +he will do for me one of these days." + +The pistol-shots attracted no particular attention in this deserted, +dead-alive Spanish town, and McKay got back to his hotel without +challenge or inquiry. + +A day or two later, as the organisation of his mule-train was now +complete, and transports were already arriving to embark their +four-footed freight, he returned to Gibraltar, meaning to go on to the +Crimea without delay. + +Of course he went to Bombardier Lane, where he was received by the old +people like a favourite son. + +Mariquita, blushing and diffident, was scarcely able to realise that +her Stanislas was now at liberty to make love to her, openly and +without question. + +The time, however, for their tender intercourse was all too short. +McKay expected hourly the steamer that was to take him eastward, and +his heart ached at the prospect of parting. As for Mariquita, she had +alternated between blithe joyousness and plaintive, despairing sorrow. + +"I shall never see you again, Stanislas," she went on repeating, when +the last mood was on her. + +"Nonsense! I have come out harmless so far; I shall do so to the end. +The Russians can't hurt me." + +"But you have other enemies, dearest--pitiless, vindictive, and +implacable." + +"Whom do you mean? Benito?" + +"You know without my telling you. He has shown his enmity, then? How? +Oh, Stanislas! be on your guard against that black-hearted man." + +Should he tell her of his suspicions that it was Benito who had +attacked him at Alicante? No; it would only aggravate her fears. But +he tried, nevertheless, to verify these suspicions without letting +Mariquita know the secret. + +"Is Benito at Gibraltar?" he asked, quietly, + +"We have not seen him for weeks. Since--since--you know, my +life!--since you came to our house he has kept away. But I heard my +uncle say that he had left the Rock to buy mules. He was going, I +believe, to Alicante. Did you see him there?" + +"I saw many ruffians of his stamp, but I did not distinguish our +friend." + +"You must never let him come near you, Stanislas. Remember what I say. +He is treacherous, truculent--a very fiend." + +"If he comes across my path I will put my heel upon him like a toad. +But let us talk of something more pleasant--of you--of our future +life. Shall you like to live in England, and never see the sun?" + +"You will be my sun, Stanislas." + +"Then you will have to learn English." + +"It will be easy enough if you teach me." + +"Some day you will be a great lady--one of the greatest in London, +perhaps. You'll have a grand house, carriages, magnificent dresses, +diamonds--" + +"I only want you," she said, as she nestled closer to his side. + +It was sad that stern duty should put an end to these pretty love +passages, but the moment of separation arrived inexorably, and, after +a sad, passionate leave-taking, McKay tore himself away. + +Mariquita for days was inconsolable. She brooded constantly in a +corner, weeping silent tears, utterly absorbed in her grief. They +considerately left her alone. Since she had become the affianced wife +of a man of McKay's rank and position, both the termagant aunt and +cross-grained uncle had treated her with unbounded respect. They would +not allow her to be vexed or worried by any one, least of all by +Benito, who, as soon as the English officer was out of the way, again +began to haunt the house. + +It was about her that they were having high words a day or two after +McKay's departure. + +Mariquita overheard them. + +"You shall not see her, I tell you!" said La Zandunga, with shrill +determination. "The sweet child is sad and sick at heart." + +"She has broken mine, as you have your word to me. I shall never be +happy more." + +He spoke as though he was in great distress, and his grief, if false, +was certainly well feigned. + +"Bah!" said old Pedro. "No man ever died of unrequited love. There are +as good fish in the sea." + +"I wanted this one," said Benito, in deep dejection. "No matter; I am +going away. There is a fine chance yonder, and I may perhaps forget +her." + +"Where, then?" asked the old woman. + +"In the Crimea. I start to-morrow." + +"Go, in Heaven's keeping," said Tio Pedro. + +"And never let us see you again," added La Zandunga, whose sentiments +towards Benito had undergone an entire change in the last few months. + +"May I not see her to say good-bye?" + +"No, you would only agitate her." + +"Do not be so cruel. I implore you to let me speak to her." + +"Be off!" said the old woman, angrily. "You are importunate and +ill-bred." + +"I will not go; I will see her first." + +"Put him out, Pedro; by force, if he will not go quietly." + +Tio Pedro rose rather reluctantly and advanced towards Benito. + +"Hands off!" cried the young man, savagely striking at Pedro. + +"What! You dare!" said the other furiously. "I am not too old to deal +with such a stripling. Begone, I say, quicker than that!" and Tio +Pedro pushed Benito towards the door. + +There was a struggle, but it was of short duration. Within a few +seconds Benito was ejected into the street. + +By-and-by, when the coast was clear, and Mariquita felt safe from the +intrusion of the man she loathed, she came out into the shop. + +By this time the place was quiet. Tio Pedro had gone off to a +neighbouring wine-shop to exaggerate his recent prowess, and La +Zandunga sat alone behind the counter. + +"Where is Benito? Has he gone?" asked Mariquita, nervously. + +"Yes. Did he frighten my sweet bird?" said her aunt, soothing her. +"He is an indecent, ill-mannered rogue, and we shall be well rid of +him." + +"Well rid of him? He really leaves us, then? For the Crimea?" + +"You have guessed it. Yes. He thinks there is a chance of finding +fortune there." + +Was that his only reason? Mariquita put her hand upon her heart, which +had almost ceased beating. She was sick with apprehension. Did not +Benito's departure forebode evil for her lover? + +Just then her eye fell upon a piece of crumpled paper lying on the +floor--part of a letter, it seemed. Almost mechanically--with no +special intention at least--she stooped to pick it up. + +"What have you got there?" asked her aunt. + +"A letter." + +"It must be Benito's; he probably dropped it in the scuffle. Do you +know that he dared to raise his hand against my worthy husband?" + +"If it is Benito's I have no desire to touch it," said Mariquita, +disdainfully. + +"Throw it into the yard, then," said her aunt. + +Mariquita accordingly went to the back door and out into the garden, +round which she walked listlessly, once or twice, forgetting what she +held in her hand. + +Then she looked at it in an aimless, absent way, and began to read +some of the words. + +The letter was in Spanish, written in a female hand. It said-- + +"Wait till he goes back to the Crimea, then follow him instantly. On +arrival at Balaclava go at once to the Maltese baker whose shop is at +the head of the bay near Kadikoi; he will give you employment. This +will explain and cover your presence in the camp. You will visit all +parts of it, selling bread. You must hang about the English +headquarters; he is most often there; and remember that he is the sole +object of your errand. You must know at all times where he is and what +he is doing. + +"Further instructions will reach you through the baker in the Crimea. +Obey them to the letter, and you will receive a double reward. Money +to any amount shall be yours, and you will have had your revenge upon +the man who has robbed you of your love." + +After reading this carefully there was no doubt in Mariquita's mind +that Benito's mission was directed against McKay. Her first thought +was the urgency of the danger that threatened her lover; the second, +an eager desire to put him on his guard. But how was she to do this? +By letter? There was no time. By a trusty messenger? But whom could +she send? There was no one from whom she could seek advice or +assistance save the old people; and in her heart, notwithstanding +their present extreme civility, she mistrusted both. + +She was sorely puzzled what to do, but yet resolved to save her lover +somehow, even at the risk of her own life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +AT MOTHER CHARCOAL'S. + + +With the return of spring brighter days dawned for the British troops +in the East. The worst troubles were ended; supplies of all kinds were +now flowing in in great profusion; the means of transport to the front +were enormously increased and improved, not only by the opportune +arrival of great drafts of baggage-animals, through the exertions of +men like McKay, but by the construction of a railway for goods +traffic. + +The chief difficulty, however, still remained unsolved: the siege +still slowly dragged itself along. Sebastopol refused to fall, and, +with its gallant garrison under the indomitable Todleben, still +obstinately kept the Allies at bay. + +The besiegers' lines were, however, slowly but surely tightening +round the place. Many miles of trenches were now open and innumerable +batteries had been built and armed. The struggle daily became closer +and more strenuously maintained. The opposing forces--besiegers and +besieged--were in constant collision. Sharpshooters interchanged shots +all day long, and guns answered guns. The Russians made frequent +sorties by night; and every day there were hand-to-hand conflicts for +the possession of rifle-pits and the more advanced posts. + +It was a dreary, disappointing season. This siege seemed interminable. +No one saw the end of it. All alike--from generals to common men--were +despondent and dispirited with the weariness of hope long deferred. + +Why did we not attack the place? This was the burden of every song. +The attack--always imminent, always postponed--was the one topic of +conversation wherever soldiers met and talked together. + +It was debated and discussed seriously, and from every point of view, +in the council-chamber, where Lord Raglan met his colleagues and the +great officers of the staff. It was the gossip round the camp-fire, +where men beguiled the weary hours of trench-duty. It was tossed from +mouth to mouth by thoughtless subalterns as they galloped on their +Tartar ponies for a day's outing to Kamiesch, when released from +sterner toil. + +The attack! To-morrow--next day--some day--never! So it went on, with +a wearisome, monotonous sameness that was perfectly exasperating. + +"I give you Good-day, my friend. Well, you see the summer is now close +at hand, and still we are on the wrong side of the wall." + +The speaker was M. Anatole Belhomme, Hyde's French friend. They had +met outside a drinking-booth in the hut-town of Kadikoi. Hyde was +riding a pony; the other was on foot. + +"Ah! my gallant Gaul, is it you?" replied Hyde. "Let's go in and +jingle glasses together, hey?" + +"A little tear of cognac would not be amiss," replied the Frenchman, +whose excessive fondness for the fermented liquor of his country was +the chief cause of his finding himself a sergeant in the Voltigeurs +instead of chief cook to a Parisian restaurant or an English duke. + +Hyde hitched up his pony at the door, and they entered the booth, +seating themselves at one of the tables, if the two inverted +wine-boxes used for the purpose deserved the name. There were other +soldiers about, mostly British: a couple of sergeants of the Guards, +an assistant of the provost-marshal, some of the new Land Transport +Corps, and one or two Sardinians, in their picturesque green tunics +and cocked hats with great plumes of black feathers. + +The demand for drink was incessant and kept the attendants busy. There +were only two of them: the proprietress, a dark-skinned lady, +familiarly termed Mother Charcoal, and a mite of a boy whom the +English customers called the "imp" and the French _polisson_ (rogue). + +Mother Charcoal was a stout but comely negress, hailing originally +from Jamaica, who had come to Constantinople as stewardess in one of +the transport-ships. Being of an enterprising nature, she had hastened +to the seat of war and sunk all her ready-money in opening a canteen. +She was soon very popular with the allied troops of every nationality +and did a roaring trade. + +"Some brandy--your best, my black Venus!" shouted Hyde. + +"Who you call names? Me no Venus." + +"Well, Mrs. Charcoal, then; that name suits your colour." + +"What colour? You call me coloured? I no common nigger, let me tell +you, sah; I a Georgetown lady. Me wash for officers' wives and give +dignity-balls in my own home. Black Venus! Charcoal! You call me my +right name. Sophimisby Cleopatra Plantagenet Sprotts: that my right +name." + +"Well, Mrs. S.C.P.S., I can't get my tongue round them all; fetch the +brandy or send it. We will talk about your pedigree and Christian +names some other time." + +This chaffing colloquy had raised a general laugh and put Hyde on good +terms with the company. + +"What news from the front, sergeant?" asked one of the Land Transport +Corps, a new comer. + +"Nothing much on our side, except that they say there will be a new +bombardment in a few days. But the French, were pretty busy last +night, to judge from the firing." + +"What was it?" + +"Perhaps our friend here can tell you" and he turned to Anatole, +asking the question in French. + +"A glorious affair, truly!" replied the Frenchman, delighted to have +an opportunity of launching out. + +"I was there--I, who speak to you." + +"Tell us about it," said Hyde; "I will interpret it to these +gentlemen." + +"The Russians, you must understand, have been forming ambuscades in +front of our bastion Du Mât, which have given us infinite trouble. +Last night we attacked them in three columns, 10,000 strong, and drove +them out." + +"Well done!" + +"It was splendidly done!" went on Anatole, bombastically. "Three times +the enemy tried to retake their ambuscades; three times we beat them +back at the point of the bayonet, so!" + +And the excitable Frenchman jumped from his seat and went through the +pantomime of charging with the bayonet. + +"You lost many men?" + +"Thousands. What matter? we have many more to come. The Imperial Guard +has landed, and the reserve, are at Constantinople." + +"Yes, and there are the 'Sardines,'" said another pointing to the new +uniform. + +"Plenty of new arrivals. M. Soyer, the great cook, landed yesterday." + +"What on earth brings him?" + +"He is going to teach the troops to make omelettes and biscuit-soup." + +"We were ahead of him in that, I think," said Hyde, winking at +Anatole. + +"He is with Miss Nightingale, you know, who has come out as head +nurse." + +"Heaven bless her!" + +"Well, for all the new arrivals, we don't get on very fast with the +siege." + +"Why don't they go into the place, without all this shilly-shallying?" +cried an impetuous Briton. "We'd take the place--we, the rank and +file--if the generals only would let us do the work alone." + +"They are a poor lot, the generals, I say." + +"Halt, there! not a word against Lord Raglan," cried Hyde. + +"He is so slow." + +"Yes, but he is uncommon sure. Have you ever seen him in action? I +have. He knows how to command: so quiet and self-possessed. Such a +different man from the French generals, who always shout and swear and +make such a confounded row. What do you think of your generals, +Anatole?" + +"Canrobert is an imbecile; he never knows his own mind." + +"Well, we shan't be troubled with him much longer," said a fresh +arrival. "Canrobert has just resigned the chief command." + +"Impossible!" said Anatole, when the news was interpreted to him. + +"It is perfectly true, I assure you," replied the last speaker. "I +have just come from the English headquarters, and saw the new French +commander-in-chief there. Palliser, I think they call him." + +"Pélissier," said the French sergeant, correcting him. "That is good +news. A rare old dog of war that. We shan't wait long to attack if he +has the ordering." + +"They say the Russian generals have changed lately. Gortschakoff has +succeeded Mentschikoff." + +"Confound those koffs! They are worse than a cold in the head." + +"And just as difficult to get rid of. I'd like to wring their necks, +and every Russian's at Sebastopol." + +"Mentschikoff could not have been a bad fellow, anyway." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Why, one of our officers who was taken prisoner at Inkerman has just +come back to camp. I heard him say that while he was in Sebastopol he +got a letter from his young woman at home. She said she hoped he would +take Mentschikoff prisoner, and send her home a button off his coat." + +"Well?" + +"The letter was read by the Russian authorities before they gave it +him, and some one told the general what the English girl had said." + +"He got mad, I suppose?" + +"Not at all. He sent on the letter to its destination, with a note of +his own, presenting his compliments, and regrets that he could not +allow himself to be taken prisoner, but saying that he had much +pleasure in inclosing the button, for transmission to England." + +"A regular old brick, and no mistake! We'll drink his health." + +It was drunk with full honours, after which Hyde, finding the party +inclined to be rather too noisy, got up to go. + +"Here!" he cried out, "some of you. What have I got to pay? Hurry up, +my dusky duchess; I want to be off. Come, don't keep me waiting all +day," and he struck the table impatiently with his riding-whip. + +Mother Charcoal's assistant, "the imp," ran up. + +"How much?" + +"One dollar: four shilling," said the lad, in broken English. + +"There's your money!" cried Hyde, throwing it down, "and a 'bob' for +yourself. Stop!" he added. "Who and what are you? I have seen you +before." + +The lad, a mere boy, frail-looking and slightly built, but with a +handsome, rather effeminate-looking face, tried to slink away. + +"What's your name?" went on Hyde. + +"Pongo," replied the boy. + +"That's no real name. Smacks of the West Coast of Africa. Who gave it +you?" + +"Mother Charcoal." + +"What's your country? What language do you talk?" + +"English." + +"Monstrous little of that, my boy. What's your native lingo, I mean? +Greek, Turkish, Italian, Coptic--what?" + +"Spanish," the boy confessed, in a low voice. + +Hyde looked at him very intently for a few seconds; then, without +further remark, walked out with his French friend. + +But he did not do more than say good-bye outside the shanty; and, +leaving his horse still hitched up near the door, he presently +re-entered the canteen. + +The place had emptied considerably, and he was able to take his seat +again in a corner without attracting much attention. For half-an-half +or more he watched this boy, who seemed to interest him so much. + +"There's not a doubt of it. I must know what it means," and he +beckoned the "imp" towards him. + +"How did you get to the Crimea?" he asked, abruptly, speaking in +excellent Spanish, when the lad, shyly and most reluctantly, came up +to him. "What brings you here? I must and will know. It is very wrong. +This is no place for you." + +"I came to save him; he is in pressing danger," said the boy, whose +large eyes were now filled with tears. + +"Does he know you are in the Crimea?" + +"I have been unable to find him. I lost all my money; it was stolen +from me directly I landed, and, if I had not found this place with the +black woman, I should have starved." + +"Poor child! Alone and unprotected in this terrible place. It was +sheer madness your coming." + +"But I could tell him in no other way." + +"Tell him what?" + +"He has two bitter and implacable enemies, who are sworn to take his +life." + +Hyde shook his head gravely. + +"It is true, as Heaven is my witness--perfectly true. But read this if +you doubt me," and the boy, who was no other than Mariquita in +disguise, produced the scrap of paper she had picked up in the shop in +Bombardier Lane. + +"I did not doubt your words. I was thinking of those enemies--one of +them, at least--and wondering why she is permitted to live." + +He took the letter, and read it slowly. + +"Her handwriting! I was sure of it. To whom was this addressed?" + +"Benito Villegas. Perhaps you know him--he is a native of the Rock." + +"I remember him years ago. And has he carried out these instructions? +Is he here?" + +"I cannot make out. I have looked for him, but have been unable to +find him." + +"Not at the address stated here? You have been to it?" + +"Several times, but have never seen him." + +"He is probably in some disguise; that would suit his purpose best. We +will hunt him up, never fear. But Stanislas must first be warned." + +"You will go to him--at once?" + +"This very day. And you--won't you come too?" + +"No, no! I cannot." Mariquita blushed crimson. "He would chide me. It +is wrong, I know; I have no right to be here, but he was in such +danger. I risked everything: his displeasure, my life, my good name." + +"Yes," said Hyde, thoughtfully; "this is no place for you; it is a +pity you came to it. Still, we should not have known but for you; as +it is, you had better stay here." + +"With Mother Charcoal?" + +"Just so. She is a worthy old soul, and can be trusted. It will be +best, I think, to tell her the exact state of the case. Leave that to +me." + +"You will not delay in warning Stanislas?" said Mariquita, placing her +hand on his arm. + +"No; I will go directly after I have spoken to our black friend. Be +easy in your mind, little woman, or Señor Pongo, or whatever you like +to be called, and expect to see me again, and perhaps some one else +you know, within a day or two from now." + +Fate, however, decreed that Hyde should be unavoidably delayed in his +errand of warning. + +On leaving Mother Charcoal's shanty the second time, he found that his +horse had disappeared. It had been hitched up to a hook near the +doorway, in company with several others, and all were now gone. + +"Some mistake? Scarcely that. One of those rascally sailor thieves, +rather; not a four-footed beast is safe from them. What a nuisance it +is! I suppose I must walk back to camp." + +What chafed Hyde most was the delay in getting to headquarters. He had +already made up his mind to find McKay as soon as he could, and tell +him exactly what had occurred. + +"He will, of course, think first of Mariquita; but that matter can be +easily settled. We will send her on board one of the hospital-ships, +where she will be with nurses of her own sex. What is really urgent is +that McKay should look to himself. We must manage, through his +interest and authority, to make a thorough search for this villain +Benito, and get him expelled from the Crimea. That would make McKay +safe, if only for a time, although I suppose Cyprienne would soon +devise some new and more diabolical scheme. If I could only get on a +little faster! It is most annoying about the horse. I will go straight +to headquarters on foot, taking the camp of the Naval Brigade on my +way." + +There was wisdom in this last resolution. The sailors' camp was the +Crimean pound. All animals lost or strayed, or, more exactly, stolen, +if the truth is to be told, found their way to it. Jack did a large +business in horseflesh. Often enough a man, having traced his missing +property, was obliged to buy it back for a few shillings, or a glass +or two of grog. + +It was a general joke in the Crimea that the infantry were better +mounted than the cavalry, and that the sailors had the pick of the +infantry horses. + +"I suppose I must go to the sailors' camp, but it's rather out of my +road," said Hyde, as he trudged along under the hot sun. + +Many more fortunate comrades, all mounted, overtook and passed him on +the way. Each time he heard the sound of hoofs his rage increased +against the dishonest rogue who had robbed him of his pony. + +"Like a lift, guv'ner?" said a voice behind him. "You shall have this +tit chape. Half a sov., money down." + +Hyde turned, and saw a blue-jacket astride of the missing pony. + +"Buy it, you rascal! why it belongs to me! Where did you get it?" + +"I found it, yer honour." + +"Stole it, you mean. Get off this instant, or I'll give you up to the +provost!" And, so saying, Hyde put out his hand to seize the reins. + +"Avast heaving there, commodore," said Jack, digging his heels into +the horse, and lifting it cleverly just out of Hyde's reach. "Who +finds keeps. Pay up, or you shan't have him. Why, I deserve a pound +for looking after the dumb baste." + +Hyde looked around for help, but no one was in sight. He was not to be +baulked, however, and made a fresh attempt to get alongside the pony. +But each time the sailor forged a little ahead, and this tantalising +game continued for half-an-hour. + +At last, disgusted and despairing, Hyde thought it better to make +terms. He was losing valuable time. + +"I give in, you rogue! Pull up, and you shall have your money." + +"Honour bright, guv'ner?" + +"Here it is," said Hyde, taking out the money. + +"It's a fair swap. Hand over the money." + +"No; you give up the pony first." + +"I shan't. That's not my way of doing business." + +"You shall!" cried Hyde, who had been edging up towards the sailor, +and now suddenly made a grab at his leg. + +He caught it, and held it with an iron grip. But Jack was not disposed +to yield quietly. With a loud oath, he struck viciously at the pony's +side with his disengaged foot. + +It was a lively little beast, and went off at once, Hyde still +clinging tenaciously to his prey. + +But Jack was determined not to be beaten. With one hand he tried to +beat off Hyde, and with the other incited the pony to increase its +pace. + +In the end Hyde was thrown to the ground, and received two nasty +kicks--one in the forehead, the other in the breast--from the heels of +the excited horse. + +The sailor got clear away, and our friend Hyde was picked up senseless +half-an-hour later by a passing ambulance-cart, and carried back to +camp. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SECRET SERVICE. + + +McKay, on returning to the Crimea, had resumed his duties at +headquarters. He was complimented by Lord Raglan and General Airey on +the manner in which he had performed his mission. + +"Matters have improved considerably in the month or two you were +absent," said the latter to him one day. "Thanks to the animals you +got us, we have been able to bring up sufficient shot and shell." + +"When is the new bombardment to take place, sir?" + +"At once." + +"And the attack?" + +"I cannot tell you. Some of the French generals are altogether against +assaulting the fortress. They would prefer operations in the open +field." + +"What do they want, sir?" + +"They would like to divide the whole allied forces into three distinct +armies: one to remain and guard the trenches, another to go round by +sea, so as to cut the Russian communications; and the third, when this +is completed, to attack the Mackenzie heights, and get in at the back +of the fortress." + +"It seems rather a wild plan, sir." + +"I agree with you--wild and impossible." + +"Does the French commander-in-chief approve of it, sir?" + +"General Canrobert does; but I think we have nearly seen the last of +him. I expect any day to hear that he has given up the command." + +"Who will succeed him, sir?" + +"Pélissier, I believe--a very different sort of man, as we shall see." + +A few days later the change which has already been referred to took +place, and Marshal Pélissier came over to the English headquarters to +take part in a council of war. All the principal general officers of +both armies were present, and so was McKay, whose perfect acquaintance +with French made him useful in interpreting and facilitating the free +interchange of ideas. + +The new French commander-in-chief was a prominent figure at the +council--a short, stout, hard-featured man, brusque in movements and +abrupt in speech; a man of much decision of character, one who made up +his mind quickly, was intolerant of all opposition, and doggedly +determined to force his will upon others. + +When it came to the turn of the French generals to speak, one of them +began a long protest against the attack as too hazardous. Several +others brought forward pet schemes of their own for reducing the +place. + +"Enough!" said Pélissier, peremptorily. "You are not brought here to +discuss whether or how we should attack. That point is already settled +by my lord and myself." + +He looked at Lord Raglan, who bowed assent. + +"We have decided to attack the outworks on the 7th of the month." + +"But I dissent," began General Bosquet. + +"Did you not hear me? I tell you we have decided to attack. You are +only called together to arrange how it can best be carried out." + +"I have a paper here in which I have argued out the principles on +which an attack should be conducted," said another, General Niel, an +engineer. + +"Ah!" said Pélissier, "you gentlemen are very clever--I admit your +scientific knowledge--but when I want your advice I will ask for it." + +While this conversation was in progress, the English officers present +were whispering amongst themselves with undisguised satisfaction at +finding that the new commander-in-chief of the French, unlike his +predecessor, was well able to keep his subordinates in order; and, +all useless discussion having been cut short, the plan of attack was +soon arranged. + +"Well," said Lord Raglan, "it is all clear. We shall begin by a heavy +cannonade." + +"To last four-and-twenty-hours," said Pélissier, "and then the +assault." + +"At what hour?" asked Lord Raglan. + +"Daylight, of course!" cried two or three French generals in a breath. + +"One moment," interposed General Airey. "Day-break is the time of all +others that the enemy would expect an attack; they would therefore be +best prepared for it then." + +A sharp argument followed, and lasted several minutes, each side +clinging tenaciously to its own opinion. + +"Do not waste your energies, gentlemen," said Marshal Pélissier, again +interfering decidedly. "Lord Raglan and I have settled that matter for +ourselves. The attack will take place at five o'clock in the +afternoon. That will allow time for us to get established in the +enemy's works in the night after we have carried them." + +"Of course, gentlemen," said Lord Raglan, in breaking up the council, +"you will all understand the importance of secrecy. Not a word of what +has passed here must be repeated outside. It would be fatal to success +if the enemy got any inkling of our intentions." + +"It's quite extraordinary," said General Airey to McKay and a few +more, as they passed out from the council-chamber, "how the enemy gets +his information." + +"Those newspaper correspondents, I suspect, are responsible," said +another general. "They let out everything, and the news, directly it +is printed, is telegraphed to Russia." + +"That does not entirely explain it. They must be always several weeks +behind. I am referring more particularly to what happens at the +moment. Everything appears to be immediately known." + +"Why, only the other day a Russian spy walked coolly through our +second parallel," said a French officer, "and counted the number of +the guns. He passed himself off as an English traveller." + +"Great impudence, but great pluck. I wish we had men who would do the +same. That's what I complain of. We want a better organised secret +service, and men like Wellington's famous Captain Grant in the +Peninsular War, bold, adroit, and quick-witted, ready to run any +risks, but bound to get information in the long run. I wish I could +lay my hands on a few Captain Grants." + +McKay smarted under the sting of these reproaches, feeling they +applied, although scarcely so intended, to him. But there was no man, +after all, on the headquarter staff better fitted to remove them. With +his enterprising spirit and intimate acquaintance with many tongues, +he ought to be able to secure information that would be useful to his +chiefs. + +Full of this idea, he rode down that afternoon to Balaclava, the +centre of all the rascaldom that had gathered around the base of the +Crimean army. He was in search of agents whom he could employ as +emissaries into the enemy's lines. + +Putting up his horse, he mixed amongst the motley crowd that thronged +the "sutlers' town," as it was called, which had sprung up half-a-mile +outside Balaclava, to accommodate the swarms of strangers who, under +the strict rule of Colonel Harding, had been expelled from the port +itself. + +The place was like a fair--a jumble of huts and shanties and ragged +canvas tents, with narrow, irregular lanes between them, in which the +polyglot traders bought and sold. Here were grave Armenians, scampish +Greeks from the Levant, wild-eyed Bedouins, Tartars from Asia Minor, +evil-visaged Italians, scowling Spaniards, hoarse-voiced, slouching +Whitechapel ruffians, with a well-developed talent for dealing in +stolen goods. + +As McKay stood watching the curious scene, and replying rather curtly +to the eager salesmen, who pestered him perpetually to buy anything +and everything--food, saddlery, pocket-knives, horse-shoes, fire-arms, +and swords--he became conscious of a stir and flutter among the crowd. +It presently became strangely silent, and parted obsequiously, to +give passage to some great personage who approached. + +This was Major Shervinton, the provost-marshal, supreme master and +autocrat of all camp-followers, whom he ruled with an iron hand. Close +behind him came two sturdy assistants--men who had once been drummers, +and were specially selected in an army where flogging was the chief +punishment for their prowess with the cat-o'-nine-tales. + +Woe to the sutler, whatever his rank or nation, who fell foul of the +terrible provost! Summary arrest, the briefest trial, and a sharp +sentence peremptorily executed, in the shape of four dozen, was the +certain treatment of all who offended against martial law. + +"Hullo, McKay!" cried Shervinton, a big, burly, pleasant-faced man, +whose cheery manner was in curious contrast with his formidable +functions. "What brings a swell from headquarters into this den of +iniquity? Lost your servant, or looking out for one? Don't engage any +one without asking me. They are an abominable lot, and deserve to be +hanged, all of them." + +"You are the very fellow to help me, Shervinton," and McKay, taking +the provost-marshal aside, told him his errand. + +"I firmly believe every second man here is a spy, or would be if he +had the pluck." + +"Are any of them, do you think, in communication with the Russians?" + +"Lots. They come and go through the lines, I believe, as they please." + +"I wish I could find a few fellows of this sort." + +"Perhaps I can put you in the way; only I doubt whether you can trust +to a single word that they will tell you." + +"But where shall we come upon them?" + +"The best plan will be to consult Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at +the end of the lines. I have always suspected him of being a Russian +spy; but I dare say we could buy him over if you want him. If he tries +to play us false we will hang him the same day." + +Valetta Joe was in his bread-store--a small shed communicating with +the dark, dirty, semi-subterranean cellar behind, in which the dough +was kneaded and baked. The shed was encumbered with barrels of +inferior flour, and all around upon shelves lay the small short rolls, +dark-looking and sour-tasting, which were sold in the camp for a +shilling a piece. + +"Well, Joe, what's the news from Sebastopol to-day?" asked Shervinton. + +"Why you ask me, sare? I a poor Maltee baker--sell bread, make money. +Have nothing to do with fight." + +"You rascal! You know you're in league with the Russians. I have had +my eye on you this long time. Some of these days we'll be down upon +you like a cart-load of bricks." + +"You a very hard man, Major Shervinton, sare--very unkind to poor Joe. +I offer you bread every day for nothing; you say No. Why not take +Joe's bread?" + +"Because Joe's a scoundrel to offer it. Do you suppose I am to be +bribed in that way? But here: I tell you what we are after. This +gentleman," pointing to McKay, "wants news from the other side." + +"Why you come to me? I nothing to do with other side." + +"You can help him, you know that, and you must; or we will bundle you +out of this and send you back to Constantinople." + +The provost-marshal's manner was not to be mistaken. + +"What can I do, sare?" + +"Find out some one who can pass through the lines and bring or send +him to my friend." + +"Who is this gentleman?" + +"He is one of Lord Raglan's staff; his name is Mr. McKay." + +A close observer would have seen that the baker started slightly at +the name and that he bent an eager, inquisitive look upon McKay. + +"Will the gentleman give promise to do no harm to me or my people?" + +"So long as you behave properly,--yes." + +"I think I know some one, then." + +"Produce him at once." + +"He not here to-day; out selling bread. Where he find you, sare, +to-morrow, or any time he have anything to tell?" + +"Let him come to the headquarters and ask for my tent," said McKay. +"There is my name on a piece of paper; if he shows that to the sentry +they will let him through." + +"Very good, sare; you wait and see." + +"No humbug, mind, Joe; or I'll be down on you!" added the +provost-marshal. "Is that all you want, McKay?" + +Our hero expressed himself quite satisfied, and, with many thanks to +the provost-marshal, he remounted and rode away. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +AMONG THE COSSACKS. + + +McKay was in His tent next morning finishing dressing when his servant +brought him a piece of crumpled paper and said there was a messenger +waiting to see him. The paper was the pass given the day before to +Valetta Joe; its bearer was a nondescript-looking ruffian, in a long +shaggy cloak of camel's hair, whose open throat and bare legs hinted +at a great scantiness of wardrobe beneath. He wore an old red fez, +stained purple, on the back of his bullet-head; he had a red, freckled +face, red eyebrows, red eyes, red hair, and a pointed red beard, both +of which were very ragged and unkempt. + +"Have you got anything to tell me?" asked McKay, sharply, in English; +and when the other shook his head he tried him in French, Spanish, +and last of all in Italian. + +"News," replied the visitor, at length, laconically; "ten dollars." + +McKay put the money in his hand and was told briefly-- + +"To-morrow--sortie--Woronzoff Road." + +And this was all the fellow would say. + +McKay passed on this information to his chief, but rather doubtfully, +declining to vouch for it, or say whence it had come. + +It was felt, however, that no harm could be done in accepting the news +as true and preparing for a Russian attack. The event proved the +wisdom of this course. The sortie was made next night. A Russian +column of considerable strength advanced some distance along the +Woronzoff Road, but finding the English on the alert immediately +retired. + +The next piece of information that reached McKay from the same source, +but by a different messenger, was more readily credited. He learnt +this time that the Russians intended to establish a new kind of +battery in front of the Karabel suburb. + +"What kind?" asked McKay. + +The messenger, a hungry-looking Tartar who spoke broken English, but +when encouraged explained himself freely in Russian, said-- + +"Big guns; they sink one end deep into the ground, the other point +very high." + +"I understand. They want to give great elevation, so as to increase +the range." + +"Yes, you see. They will reach right into your camp." + +Again the information proved correct. Within a couple of days the +camps of the Third and Fourth Divisions, hitherto deemed safe from the +fire of the fortress, were disturbed by the whistling of round-shot in +their midst. The fact was reported in due course to headquarters. + +"You see, sir, it is just what I was told," said McKay to General +Airey. + +"Upon my word, you deserve great credit. You seem to have organised an +intelligence department of your own, and, what is more to the purpose, +your fellow seems always right." + +McKay was greatly gratified at this encouragement, and eager to be +still more useful. He visited the Maltese baker again, and urged him +to continue supplying him with news. + +"Trust to Joe. Wait one little bit; you know plenty more." + +Several days passed, however, without any fresh news. Then a new +messenger came, another Tartar, a very old man with a flowing grey +beard, wearing a long caftan like a dressing-gown to his heels, and an +enormous sheepskin cap that came far down over his eyes, and almost +hid his face. He seemed very decrepit, and was excessively stupid, +probably from old age. He looked terribly frightened when brought to +McKay's tent, stooping his shoulders and hanging his head in the +cowering, deprecating attitude of one who expects, but would not dare +to ward off, a blow. + +He was tongue-tied, for he made no attempt to speak, but merely thrust +forward one hand, making a deep obeisance with the other. There was a +scrap of paper in the extended hand, which McKay took and opened +curiously. A few lines in Italian were scrawled on it. + +"The Russians are collecting large forces beyond the Tchernaya," ran +the message. "Expect a new attack on that side." + +"Who gave you this?" asked McKay, in Russian. + +The old fellow bowed low, but made no answer. + +He repeated the question in Italian and every other language of which +he was master, but obtained no reply. The man remained stupidly, +idiotically dumb, only grovelling lower and more abjectly each time. + +"What an old jackass he is! I shall get nothing out of him, I'm +afraid. But it won't do to despise the message, wherever it comes +from. Take him outside," he said to his orderly, "while I go and see +the general." "You have no idea where this news comes from?" was +General Airey's first inquiry. + +"The same source, I don't doubt; but of course I can't vouch for its +accuracy." + +"It might be very important," the general was musing. "I am not sure +whether you know what we contemplate in these next few days?" + +"In the direction of the Tchernaya, sir?" + +"Precisely. Now that the Sardinian troops have all arrived, Lord +Raglan thinks we are strong enough to extend our position as far as +the river." + +"I had heard nothing of it, sir?" + +"If this news be true, the Russians appear to be better informed than +you are, McKay." + +"And are preparing to oppose our movement?" + +"That's just what I should like to know, and what gives so much +importance to these tidings. I only wish we could verify them. Where +is your messenger? Who is he?" + +"A half-witted old Tartar; you will get nothing out of him, sir. I +have been trying hard this half-hour." + +"But you know where the news comes from. Could you not follow it up to +its source?" + +"I will do so at once, sir;" and within half-an-hour McKay was in his +saddle, riding down to Balaclava. + +Valetta Joe was in his shop, distributing a batch of newly-baked bread +to a number of itinerant vendors, each bound to retail the loaves in +the various camps. + +McKay waited until the place was clear, then accosted the baker +sharply. + +"What was the good of your sending that old numbskull to me?" + +"He give you letter. You not understand?" + +"Yes, yes, I understand; but I want to be certain it is true." + +"When Joe tell lies? You believe him before; if you like, believe him +again." + +"But can't you tell me more about it? How many troops have the +Russians collected? Since when? What do they mean to do?" + +"You ask Russian general, not me; I only know what I hear." + +"But it would be possible to tell, from the position of the enemy, +something of their intentions. I could directly if I saw them." + +"Then why you not go and look for yourself?" asked Joe, carelessly; +but there was a glitter in his eyes which gave a deep meaning to the +simple question. + +"Why not?" said McKay, whom the look had escaped. "It is well worth +the risk." + +"I'll help you, if you like," went on Joe, with the same outwardly +unconcerned manner. + +"Can you? How?" + +"Very easy to pass lines. You put on Tartar clothes same as that old +man go to you to-day. He live near Tchorgaun; he take you right into +middle of Russian camp." + +"When can he start?" asked McKay eagerly, accepting without hesitation +all the risks of this perilous undertaking. + +"To-night, if you choose. Come down here by-and-by; I have everything +ready." + +McKay agreed, and returned to headquarters in all haste, where he +sought out his chief and confided to him his intentions. + +"You are really prepared to penetrate the enemy's lines? It will be a +daring, dangerous job, McKay. I should be wrong to encourage you." + +"It is of vital importance, you say, that we should really know what +the enemy is doing beyond the Tchernaya. I am quite ready to go, sir." + +"Lord Raglan--all of us--indeed, will be greatly indebted to you if +you can find out. But I do not like this idea of the disguise, McKay. +You ought not to go under false colours." + +"I should probably learn more." + +"Yes; but do you know what your fate would be if you were discovered?" + +"I suppose I should be hanged, sir," said McKay, simply. + +"Hanged or shot. Spies--everyone out of uniform is a spy--get a very +short shrift at an enemy's hand. No; you must stick to your legitimate +dress. I am sure Lord Raglan would allow you to go under no other +conditions." + +"As you wish, sir. Only I fear I should not be so useful as if I were +disguised." + +"It is my order," said the general, briefly; and after that there was +nothing more to be said. + +McKay spent the rest of the afternoon at his usual duties, and towards +evening, having carefully reloaded his revolver, and filled his +pockets with Russian rouble notes, which he obtained on purpose from +the military chest, he mounted a tough little Tartar pony, used +generally by his servant, and trotted down to the hut-town. + +Valetta Joe heard with marked disapprobation McKay's intention of +carrying out his enterprise without assuming disguise. + +"You better stay at home: not go very far like that." + +"Lend me a _greggo_ to throw over my coat, and a sheepskin cap, and I +shall easily pass the Cossack sentries. Where is my guide?" + +"Seelim--Jee!" shouted Joe, and the old gentleman who had visited +McKay that morning came ambling up from the cellar below. + +"Is that old idiot to go with me? Why, he speaks no known tongue!" +cried McKay. + +"Only Tartar. You know no Tartar? Well, he understand the stick. Show +it him--so," and Joe made a motion of striking the old man, who bent +submissively to receive the blow. + +"Does he know where he is to take me? What we are going to do?" + +"All right. You trust him: he take you past Cossacks." Joe muttered a +few unintelligible instructions to the guide, who received them with +deep respect, making a low bow, first to Joe and then to McKay. + +"I give him _greggo_ and cap: you put them on when you like." + +McKay knew that he could only pass the British sentries openly, +showing his uniform as a staff officer, so he made the guide carry the +clothes, and the two pressed forward together through Kadikoi, towards +the formidable line of works that now covered Balaclava. + +He skirted the flank of one of the redoubts, and, passing beyond the +intrenchments, came at length to our most advanced posts, a line of +cavalry vedettes, stationed at a considerable distance apart. + +"I am one of the headquarter staff," he said, briefly, to the sergeant +commanding the picket, "and have to make a short reconnaissance +towards Kamara. You understand?" + +"Are we to support you, sir?" + +"No; but look out for my coming back. It may not be till daybreak, but +it will be as well, perhaps, to tell your men who I am, and to expect +me. I don't want to be shot on re-entering our own lines." + +"Never fear, sir, so long as we know. I will tell the officer, and +make it all right." + +McKay now rode slowly on, his guide at his horse's head. They kept in +the valleys, already, as night was now advancing, deep in shade, and +their figures, which could have been clearly made out against the sky +if on the upper slopes, were nearly invisible on the lower ground. + +It was a splendid summer's evening, perfectly still and peaceful, with +no sounds abroad but the ceaseless chirp of innumerable grasshoppers, +and the faint hum of buzzing insects ever on the wing. Only at +intervals were strange sounds wafted on the breeze, and told their own +story; the distant blare of trumpets, and the occasional "thud" of +heavy cannon, gun answering gun between besiegers and besieged. As +they fared along, McKay once or twice inquired, more by gesture than +by voice, how far they had to go. + +Each time the guide replied by a single word--"Cossack"--spoken almost +in a whisper, and following by his placing finger on lip. + +Half-a-mile further, the guide motioned to McKay to dismount and leave +his horse, repeating the caution "Cossack!" in the same low tone of +voice. + +McKay, who had now put on the _greggo_ and sheepskin cap, did as he +was asked, and the two crept forward together, having left the horse +tethered to a bush, the guide explaining by signs that they would +presently come back to it. + +A little farther and he placed his hand upon McKay's arms, with a +motion to halt. + +"H--sh!" said the old man, using a sound which has the same meaning in +all tongues, and held up a finger. + +McKay listened attentively, and heard voices approaching them. +Instinctively he drew his revolver and waited events. The voices grew +plainer and plainer, then gradually faded away. + +"Cossack!" repeated the guide, and McKay gathered that these were a +couple of Cossack sentries, from whose clutches he had narrowly +escaped. + +Again our hero was urged forward, and this time with all speed. The +guide ran, followed by McKay, for a couple of hundred yards, then +halted suddenly. What next? He had thrown himself on the ground, and +seemed closely examining it; in this attitude he crept forward +cautiously. + +The movement was presently explained. A slight splash told of water +encountered. He had been in search of the river, and had found it. +This was the Tchernaya--a slow sluggish stream, hidden amidst long +marshy grass, and everywhere fordable, as McKay had heard, at this +season of the year. + +The guide now stood up and pointed to the river, motioning McKay to +enter it and cross. + +Our hero stepped in boldly, and in all good faith, expecting his guide +to follow. But he was half-way towards the other bank, and still the +old man had made no move. + +Why this hesitation? + +McKay beckoned to him to come on. The guide advanced a step or two, +then halted irresolute. + +McKay grew impatient, and repeated his motion more peremptorily. The +guide advanced another step and again halted. He seemed to suffer from +an invincible dislike to cold water. + +"Is he a cur or a traitor?" McKay asked himself, and drew his +revolver to quicken the old man's movements, whichever he was. + +The sight of the weapon seemed to throw the guide into a paroxysm of +fear. He fell flat on the ground, and obstinately refused to move. + +All this time McKay was in the river, up to his knees, a position not +particularly comfortable. Besides, valuable time was being wasted--the +night was not too long for what he had to do. Hastily regaining the +bank, he rejoined the guide where he lay, and kicked him till he stood +erect. + +"You old scoundrel!" cried McKay, putting his revolver to his head. +"Come on! do you understand? Come on, or you are a dead man!" + +The gesture was threatening, not that McKay had any thought of firing. +He knew a pistol-shot would raise a general alarm. Still the old man, +although trembling in every limb, would not move. + +"Come on!" repeated McKay, and with the idea of dragging him forward +he seized him fiercely by the beard. + +To his intense surprise, it came off in his hand. + +"Cursed Englishman!" cried a voice with which he was perfectly +familiar, and in Spanish. "You are at my mercy now. You dare not fire; +your life is forfeited. The enemy is all around you. I have betrayed +you into their hands." + +"Benito! Can it be possible?" But McKay did not suffer his +astonishment to interfere with his just revenge. + +"On your knees, dog! Say your prayers. I will shoot you first, +whatever happens to me." + +"You are too late!" cried Benito, wrenching himself from his grasp, +and whistling shrilly as he ran away. + +McKay fired three shots at him in succession, one of which must have +told, for the scoundrel gave a great yell of pain. + +The next instant McKay was surrounded by a mob of Cossacks and quickly +made prisoner. + +They had evidently been waiting for him, and the whole enterprise was +a piece of premeditated treachery, as boldly executed as it had been +craftily planned. + +McKay's captors having searched his pockets with the nimbleness of +London thieves, and deprived him of money, watch, and all his +possessions, proceeded to handle him very roughly. He had fought and +struggled desperately, but was easily overpowered. They were twenty to +one, and their wild blood was aroused by his resistance. He was +beaten, badly mauled, and thrown to the ground, where a number of them +held him hand and foot, whilst others produced ropes to bind him fast. +The brutal indignities to which he was subjected made McKay wild with +rage. He addressed them in their own language, protesting vainly +against such shameful ill-usage. + +"Hounds! Miscreants! Sons of burnt mothers! Do you dare to treat an +English officer thus? Take me before your superior. Is there no one +here in authority? I claim his protection." + +"Which you don't deserve, scurvy rogue," said a quiet voice. "You are +no officer--only a vile, disreputable spy." + +"I can prove to you--" + +"Bah! how well you speak Russian. We know all about you; we expected +you. But enough: we must be going on." + +"I don't know who you may be," began McKay, hotly, "but I shall +complain of you to your superior officer." + +"Silence!" replied the other, haughtily. "Have I not told you to hold +your tongue? Fill his mouth with clay, some of you, and bring him +along." + +This fresh outrage nearly maddened McKay. + +"You shall carry me, then," he spluttered out, from where he still lay +upon the ground. + +"Ah! we'll see. Get up, will you! Prick him with the point of your +lance, Ivanovich. Come, move yourself," added the officer, as McKay +slowly yielded to this painful persuasion, "move yourself, or you +shall feel this," and the officer cracked the long lash of his +riding-whip. + +"You shall answer for this barbarity," said McKay "I demand to be +taken before the General at once." + +"You shall see him, never fear, sooner than you might wish, perhaps." + +"Take me at once before him; I am not afraid." + +"You will wait till it suits us, dog; meanwhile, lie there." + +They had reached a rough shelter built of mud and long reeds. It was +the picket-house, the headquarters of the troop of Cossacks, and a +number of them were lying and hanging about, their horses tethered +close by. + +The officer pointed to a corner of the hut, and, giving peremptory +instructions to a couple of sentries to watch the prisoner, for whom +they would have to answer with their lives, he disappeared. + +Greatly dejected and cast down at the failure of his enterprise, and +in acute physical pain from his recent ill-usage and the tightness of +his bonds, McKay passed the rest of the night very miserably. + +Dawn came at length, but with it no relief. On the contrary, daylight +aggravated his sufferings. He could see now the cruel scowling visages +of his captors, and the indescribable filth and squalor of the den in +which he lay. + +"Get up!" cried a voice; but McKay was too much dazed and distracted +by all he had endured to understand that the command was addressed to +him. + +It was repeated more arrogantly, and accompanied by a brutal kick. + +He rose slowly and reluctantly, and asked in a sullen voice-- + +"Where are you taking me?" + +"Before his Excellency. Step out, or must we prick you along?" + +A march of half-an-hour under a strong escort brought them to a large +camp. They passed through many lines of tents, and halted presently +before a smart marquee. + +The Cossack officer in charge entered it, and presently returned with +the order-- + +"March him in!" + +McKay found himself in the presence of a broadly-built, middle-aged +man, in the long grey great-coat worn by all ranks of the Russian +army, from highest to lowest, and the flat, circular-topped cap +carried also by all. There was nothing to indicate the rank of this +personage but a small silver ornament on each shoulder-strap, and +another in the centre of the cap. At a button-hole on his breast, +however, was a small parti-coloured rosette, the simple record of +orders and insignia too precious to carry in the field. + +There was unbounded arrogance and contempt in his voice and manner as +he addressed the prisoner, who might have been the vilest of created +things. + +"So"--he spoke in French, like most well-educated Russians of that +day, to show their aristocratic superiority--"you have dared, wretch, +to thrust yourself into the bear's mouth! You shall be hanged in +half-an-hour." + +"I claim to be treated as a prisoner of war," said McKay, boldly. + +"You! impudent rogue! A low camp-follower! A sneaking, skulking +spy--taken in the very act! You!" + +"I am a British officer!" went on McKay, stoutly. He was not to be +browbeaten or abashed. + +"Where is your uniform?" + +"Here!" replied McKay, throwing open the _greggo_, which he still +wore, and showing the red waistcoat beneath, and the black breeches +with their broad red stripe. + +"You said he was a civilian in Tartar disguise," said the +general,--for such was the officer's rank,--turning to one of his +staff and seeming rather staggered at McKay's announcement. He spoke +in Russian. + +"Take care, Excellency; the prisoner speaks Russian." + +"Is that so?" said the general to McKay. "An unusual accomplishment +that, in English officers, I expect." + +"Yes, I am acquainted with Russian," said McKay. Why should he deny +it? They had heard him use that language at the time of his capture. + +"How and when did you learn it?" + +"I do not choose to say. What can that matter?" + +Again the staff-officer interposed and whispered something in the +general's ear. + +"Of course; I had forgotten." Then, turning to McKay, he went on: +"What is your name?" + +"McKay." + +"Your Christian names in full?" + +"Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"Exactly. Stanislas Alexandrovich McKay. I knew your father when he +was a captain in the Polish Lancers; was he not?" + +"I cannot deny it." + +"He was a Russian, in the service of our holy Czar, and you, his son, +are a Russian too." + +"It is false! I am an Englishman. I have never yielded allegiance to +the Czar." + +"You will find it hard to evade your responsibility. It is not to be +put on or off like a coat. You were born a Russian subject, and a +Russian subject you remain!" + +"I bear a commission in the army of the British Queen. I dare you to +treat me as a Russian now!" + +"We will treat you as we find you, Mr. McKay: as an interloper +disguised for an improper purpose within our lines." + +"What shall you do with me?" asked McKay, in a firm voice, but with a +sinking heart. + +"Hang you like a dog to the nearest tree. Or, stay! out of respect for +your father, whom I knew, and if you prefer it, you shall be shot." + +"I am in your power. But I warn you that, if you execute me, the +merciless act will be remembered throughout Europe as an eternal +disgrace to the Russian arms." + +This bold speech was not without its effect. The general consulted +with his staff, and a rather animated discussion followed, at the end +of which he said-- + +"I am not to be deterred by any such threats: still, it will be better +to refer your case to my superiors. I shall send you into Sebastopol, +to be dealt with as Prince Gortschakoff may think fit, only do not +expect more at his hands than at mine. Rope or rifle--one of them will +be your fate. See he is sent off, Colonel Golopine, will you? And now +take him away." + +McKay was marched out of the marquee, still under the escort of +Cossacks. But outside he was presently handed over to a fresh party; +they brought up a shaggy pony--it might have been the fellow of the +one he had left behind the previous night--and curtly bade him mount. +When, with hands still tied, he scrambled with difficulty into his +saddle, they tied his legs together by a long rope under the pony's +belly, and, placing him in the centre of the escort, they started off +at a jog-trot in the direction of the town. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A PURVEYOR OF NEWS. + + +Mr. Hobson gave his address at Duke Street, St. James's, a +lodging-house frequented by gentlemen from the neighbouring clubs. But +he was never there except asleep. There was nothing strange in this as +none of the occupants of the house were much there, except at +night-time--they lived at their clubs. + +So, for all the landlady knew, did Mr. Hobson. But we know better. He +had no club, and his daily absence from breakfast--simply a cup of +coffee and a roll, which he took in the French fashion, early--till +late at night was to be accounted for by his constant presence at his +office or place of business, although it was both and neither. This +was in a little street off Bloomsbury, the first floor over a +newspaper shop. + +Mr. Hobson passed here as an agent for a country paper. It was +supposed to be his business to collect and transmit news to his +principals at a large seaport town on the East Coast. These were days +before the present development of newspaper enterprise, when leading +provincial journals have their own London offices and a private wire. +Mr. Hobson's principles were very liberal according to the idea of +that time; they seemed to grudge no expense with regard to the +transmission of news. + +Telegrams were costly things in those days, but Mr. Hobson sometimes +sent off half-a-dozen in the course of a morning. He was served too, +and exceedingly well, by special agents of his own, who came to him at +all hours--in cabs driven recklessly, or on foot, in a stealthy, +apologetic way, as though doubtful whether the news they brought would +be acceptable. + +The office upstairs bore out the notion of the news-agency. Its chief +furniture consisted of two long, sloping tables, on which lay files of +daily papers. There was one big book-case handy near the fireplace, +and over the desk at which Mr. Hobson sat. On the shelves of this were +ranged a couple of dozen volumes, each bearing a label on which were +various letters and numerals. + +On the desk itself were the usual writing appliances, a large pair of +scissors, and a wide-mouthed bottle of gum. + +Let us look in at Mr. Hobson on his first arrival at his office, soon +after eight o'clock. + +His first business was to ring his bell, which communicated with the +shop below. + +"My papers! It is past eight." + +"Here they are, sir, the whole lot--_Times_, _'Tizer_, _Morning +Chronicle_, and _Morning Post_." + +"Why do you oblige me to ask for them? Can't you bring them as I have +told you? It makes me so late with my work." And, having delivered +himself of these testy remarks, he threw himself into an arm-chair +and proceeded to devour the morning's news. + +"Nothing fresh from the East?" As he now talked to himself, this +smooth-shaven, typical Englishman spoke, strange to say, in French. +"Have Messieurs the correspondents no news? No letter in the _Post_? +None in the _Morning Chronicle_? How disappointing! Ha! what's this? +Two columns in the _Times_. How admirably that excellent paper is +served! Let's see what it says." + +He hastily ran his eye down the columns, muttering to himself: "Ha! +mostly strong language--finding fault. How kind of you to be +dissatisfied with the administration, and to tell us why. The siege +practically suspended, eh? Fuses won't fit the shells--so much the +better, then the mortars can't fire. + +"But that's no news: my friends and good masters will have found that +out for themselves. Anything else? 'Our new battery, which is only +seven hundred yards from the enemy's guns, is nearly completed.' +Which battery does he mean? Has he referred to it before?" + +And Mr. Hobson, as we shall still call him, got up from his seat and +took a volume down from the shelf. It was labelled "T. 14, M. 55." +These expressions expanded meant that it contained extracts from the +_Times_, the 14th volume, for May, 1855. + +After referring to an alphabetical index, he quickly turned over the +leaves of the book till he found a certain page. + +"Ah! here it is," he said. "'We have commenced another battery just in +front of the quarries, the nearest to the enemy's works. It will be +armed with the heaviest ordnance,' &c. &c. And now it is nearly ready. +That must be passed on without delay." + +Mr. Hobson turned to his desk and indited a telegram. It was addressed +to Arrowsmith, Hull, and said-- + +"New shop, as already indicated, will be opened at once. Let our +Gothenburg correspondent know." + +"I will take it over myself. But let me first see whether there is +anything to add." + +He resumed his reading, and presently came to the following passage:-- + +"'Lord Lyons had just returned from a cruise in the Black Sea. This +confirms my impression that some new movement is contemplated. +Regiments have been placed under orders, and there is great stir among +the fleet. A secret expedition is on the point of being despatched +somewhere, but the real destination no one as yet knows. Camp-gossip +is, of course, busy; but I will not repeat the idle and misleading +rumours that are on every lip.' + +"Another expedition planned! I must know more of this. Where can it be +going? Is it meant for the Sea of Azof and Kertch, like the last, +which alarmed us so, and never got so far? + +"What a business that was! We heard of it long beforehand; +preparations for transport, and the embarkation of the troops. The +fleet left Kamiesch, steering northward, past Sebastopol, and we +thought the latter would be attacked. But lo! next morning the enemy +were not in sight; the fleet had returned to Kamiesch Bay. What did it +mean? It was weeks before I learnt the right story, and then it came +from Paris. General Canrobert had changed his mind. The Emperor had +told him not to send away any troops, but to keep all concentrated +before Sebastopol. So the expedition to Kertch--for it was directed +against Kertch, and the northward move was only intended to deceive +us--all ended in smoke. Can they be going again to Kertch? It is +hardly likely. They have some deeper designs, I feel sure. This would +tally with my latest advice. Let me read once more what the Prince +says." + +He took a key from his pocket, opened his desk, and unlocked an inner +receptacle, from which he took a letter in cypher. + +"'We have learnt,' he read, fluently, without using any key, 'that the +enemy contemplate a great change in their plan of operations. It is +reported that they propose to raise the siege, or at least reduce it +to a mere blockade. The great bulk of the allied army would then be +transferred to sea to another point where it would take the field +against our line of communications. It is essential that we should +know at the earliest date whether there is any foundation in this +report. Use every endeavour to this end.' + +"Yes; there can be no doubt that this surmise is corroborated by the +latest news. But I must have more precise and correct information +without delay. How is it to be obtained? Which of my agents can help +me best? Lavitsky? He works in Woolwich Arsenal--he might know if more +wheeled transport had been ordered. Or Bauer, at Portsmouth--he would +know of any movements in the fleet. Or-- + +"Of course!" and he slapped his forehead, despising his own stupidity. +"Cyprienne--she can, and must, manage this." + +He proceeded to put back the papers into the secret drawer; he +replaced the volume on the shelf, and, taking the telegram he had +written in his hand, left the office, carefully locking the door +behind him. + +Hailing a cab, he was driven first to a telegraph-station, where he +sent off his despatch, only adding the words:-- + +"Other important transactions in the shipping interest will shortly +be undertaken; more precise details will speedily follow." + +Then he directed the cabman to drive to Thistle Grove, Brompton. + +"Is Mrs. Wilders visible yet?" he asked the servant, on reaching her +house. + +"Madame does not receive so early," replied the man, a foreigner, +speaking broken English, who was new to the establishment, and had +never seen Mr. Hobson before. + +"Take in my name!" said Mr. Hobson, peremptorily. "It is urgent, say. +I must see her at once." + +"I will tell madame's maid." + +"Do so, and look sharp about it. Don't trouble about me--be off and +tell the maid. I know my way;" and Mr. Hobson marched himself into the +morning-room. + +This room, in the forenoon, was on the shady side of the house--it +looked on to a pretty garden, a small, level lawn of intensely green +grass, jewelled with flowers. The windows, reaching to the ground, +were wide open, and near one was drawn a small round table, on which +was set a dainty breakfast-service of pink-and-white china, glistening +plate, and crimson roses, standing out in pleasant relief upon the +snowy damask. + +"Beyond question, madame has a knack of making herself comfortable. I +have seldom seen a cosier retreat on a broiling summer's day, and in +this dusty, dirty town. She has not breakfasted yet, nor, except for +my cup of coffee, have I. I will do myself the pleasure of joining +her. A cutlet and a glass of cool claret will suit me admirably just +now, and we can talk as we eat." + +While he stood there, admiring cynically, Mrs. Wilders came in. + +She was in a loose morning wrapper of pale pink, and had seemingly +taken little trouble with her day's toilette as yet. Her _negligé_ +dress hinted at hurry in leaving her room, and she addressed her +visitor in a hasty, impatient way. + +"What is this so urgent that you come intruding at such an unseemly +hour?" + +"You grow indolent, my dear madame. Why, it is half-past eleven." + +"I have not yet breakfasted." + +"So I see. I am delighted. No more have I." + +"Was it to ask yourself to breakfast that you came here this morning?" + +"Not entirely; another little matter brought me; but we can deal with +the two at the same time. Pray order them to serve: I am excessively +hungry." + +Mrs. Wilders, without answering, pettishly pulled the bell. + +"Lay another cover," she told the man, "and bring wine with the +breakfast. You will want it, I suppose," she said to her guest; "I +never touch it in the morning." + +"How charmingly you manage! You have a special gift as a housewife. +What a delightful meal! I have seen nothing more refined in Paris." + +There was a delicious lobster-salad, a dish of cold cutlets and jelly, +and a great heap of strawberries with cream. + +"Now get to business," said Mrs. Wilders, in a snarling, ill-tempered +way; "let's have it out." + +"It's a pity you are out of humour this morning," observed Mr. Hobson, +with a provoking forbearance. "I have come to find fault." + +Mrs. Wilders shrugged her shoulders, implying that she did not care. + +"It may seem ungracious, but I must take you to task seriously. How is +it you give me no news?" + +"I tell you all I hear; what more do you want?" + +"A great deal. Look here, Cyprienne, I am not to be put off with +stale, second-hand gossip--the echoes of the Clubs; vague, empty +rumours that are on everybody's tongue long before they come to me. I +must have fresh, brand-new intelligence, straight from the +fountain-head. You must get it for me, or--" + +The old frightened look which we have seen on Mrs. Wilders's face +before when brought into antagonism with this man returned to it, and +her voice was less firm, her manner less defiant, as she said-- + +"Spare me your threats. You know I am most anxious to oblige you--to +help you." + +"You have put me off too long with these vague promises. I must have +something more tangible at once." + +"It is so difficult to find out anything." + +"Not if you go the right way to work. A woman of your attractions, +your cleverness, ought to be able to twist any man round her finger. +You have done it often enough already, goodness knows. Now, there's +old Faulks; when did you see him last?" + +"Not a week ago." + +"And you got nothing out of him? I thought he was devoted to you." + +"He is most attentive, most obliging, but still exceedingly wary. He +will talk about anything rather than business. I have tried him +repeatedly. I have introduced the subject of his nephew, of whom he is +now so proud." + +"Your enemy, you mean--that young McKay." + +"Exactly. I thought that by bringing the conversation to the Crimea I +might squeeze out something important. But no! he is always as close +as an oyster." + +"He will be ready enough to talk about his dear nephew before long. +You may look out for some startling news about McKay." + +"Really?" said Mrs. Wilders, growing suddenly excited. "Your plan has +succeeded, then?" + +"Any day you may hear that he has been removed effectually, and for +ever, from your path. But for the moment that will keep. What presses +is that you should squeeze old Faulks. There is something that I must +know to-day, or to-morrow at latest. You must go and see him at once." + +"At his office?" + +"Why not?" + +"But on what pretence? I have never been there as yet. He has always +come here to lunch or dine. He is fond of a good dinner." + +"Ask him again." + +"But I could do that by letter. He may suspect me if I go to him +without some plausible excuse." + +"Trump up some story about his nephew. Only get to him; he will soon +give you an opening you can turn to account. I trust to your +cleverness for that; only lose no time." + +"Must I go to-day?" + +"This very afternoon; directly you leave the house." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +IN WHITEHALL. + + +The Military Munitions' department was one of a dozen or more seated +at that period in and about Whitehall. Its ostensible functions, as +its title implied, were to supply warlike and other stores to the +British army when actively engaged. But as wars had been rare for +nearly half-a-century it had done more during that time towards +providing a number of worthy gentlemen with comfortable incomes than +in ministering to the wants of troops in the field. + +It was an office of good traditions: highly respectable, very +old-fashioned, slow moving, not to say dilatory, but tenacious of its +dignity as regards other departments, and obstinately wedded to its +own way of conducting the business of the country. + +The most prominent personage in the department for some little time +before the outbreak of hostilities with Russia, and during the war, +was Mr. Rufus Faulks, brother to the Captain Faulks we met on board +the _Burlington Castle_, and also uncle to Stanislas McKay. + +Mr. Faulks had entered the office as a lad, and, after long years of +patient service, had worked his way up through all the grades to the +very top of the permanent staff. He had no one over him now but the +statesman who, for the time being, was responsible for the department +in Parliament--a mere politician, perfectly raw in official routine, +who had the good taste and better sense to surrender himself blindly +to the guidance of Mr. Faulks. What could a bird of passage know of +the deep mysteries of procedure it took a life-time to learn? + +He was the true type and pattern of a Government official. A prim, +plethoric, middle-aged little man; always dressed very carefully; +walking on the tips of his toes; speaking precisely, with a priggish, +self-satisfied smirk, and giving his opinion, even on the weather, +with the air of a man who was secretly better informed than the rest +of the world. + +He was very punctual in his attendance at the office, passing the +threshold of the private house in a side-street near Whitehall, where +the department was lodged all by itself, every morning at eleven, and +doing the same thing every day at the same time with the most +praiseworthy, methodical precision. His first step was to deposit his +umbrella in one corner, his second to hang his hat in another, his +third to take an old office-coat out of a bottom drawer in his desk, +substituting it for the shiny black frock-coat he invariably wore; +then he looked through his letters, selected all of a private and +confidential nature, and placing the morning's _Times_ across his +knees deposited himself in an arm-chair near the fire. He was supposed +to be digesting the morning's correspondence, and no one during this +the first half-hour of his attendance would have ventured to intrude +upon him unsummoned. + +It was with a very black face, therefore, that when thus occupied upon +the morning that Mr. Hobson visited Mrs. Wilders he saw his own +private messenger enter the room. + +"What is it, Lightowlar? I have forbidden you to disturb me till +twelve." + +"Beg pardon, sir; very sorry, sir!" replied the messenger, who had +been confidential valet to a Cabinet Minister, and prided himself on +the extreme polish of his language and demeanour. "I am aware that you +have intimidated your disapprobation of unseasonable interruption, +but--" + +"Well, well! out with it, or take yourself off." + +"Sir 'Umphry, sir; he have just come to the office quite unforseen." + +Sir Humphrey Fothergill was the Parliamentary head of the office at +this time. + +"Sir Humphrey here! What an extraordinary thing!" + +The proper time for the appearance of this great functionary was at 4 +p.m., on his way to the House and Mr. Faulks felt quite annoyed at the +departure from the ordinary rule. + +"Sir 'Umphry 'ave took us all aback, sir. His own messenger, Mr. +Sprott, was not in the way for the moment, and Sir 'Umphry expressed +himself in rather strong terms." + +"Serve Sprott right. But what has all that to do with me?" + +"Sir 'Umphry, sir, 'ave sent, sir"--the man could hardly bring himself +to convey the message; "he 'ave sent, sir, to say he wishes to see you +at once." + +"Me? At this hour? Impossible!" + +This pestilent Sir Humphrey was upsetting every tradition of the +office. + +Mr. Faulks again settled himself in his arm-chair, with the air of a +man who refused to move--out of his proper groove. + +"Mr. Faulks! Mr. Faulks!" Another unseemly intrusion. This time it was +Sprott, the chief messenger, flurried and frightened, no doubt, by +recent reproof. "Sir Humphrey's going on awful, sir; he's rung his +bell three times, and asked how long it took you to go upstairs." + +Sullenly, and sorely against his will, Mr. Faulks rose and joined his +chief. + +"I have asked for you several times," said Sir Humphrey Fothergill, a +much younger man than Mr. Faulks, new to official life, but a +promising party politician, with a great belief in himself and his +importance as a member of the House of Commons; "you must have come +late." + +"Pardon me, I was here at my usual time; but in the thirty-five years +that I have had the honour to serve in the Military Munition +Department I never remember a Parliamentary chief who came so early as +you." + +"I shall come when I choose--in the middle of the night, if it suits +me or is necessary, as is more than probable in these busy times." + +Mr. Faulks waved his hands and bowed stiffly, as much as to say that +Sir Humphrey was master of his actions, but that he need not expect to +see him. + +"You all want stirring up here," said Sir Humphrey abruptly. "It is +high time to give you a fillip." + +"I am not aware--" Mr. Faulks began, in indignant protest, but his +chief cut him short. + +"Did you read what happened in the House last night?" + +"I have only just glanced at the _Times_," replied Mr. Faulks, in a +melancholy voice, thinking how rudely his regular perusal of the great +journal had been interrupted that morning. + +"It's not pleasant reading. There was a set attack upon this +department, and they handled us very roughly, let me tell you. It made +my ears tingle." + +"We have been abused cruelly--unfairly abused for the last twelve +months," said Mr. Faulks with a most injured air. + +"You richly deserved it. Amongst you the troops in the Crimea have +been dying from starvation, perishing from cold." + +"I can assure you that is distinctly unjust. I can assure you great +quantities of warm clothing were dispatched in due course." + +"Ay, but when?" + +"I can't give you the exact dates, but we have been advised of their +arrival these last few weeks." + +"Warm clothing in May? A very seasonable provision! But it's all of a +piece. How about those fuzes?" + +"To what do you refer, may I ask?" said Mr. Faulks very blandly; but +his blood was boiling at the indignity of being lectured thus by a +young man altogether new to the office. + +"It is all in this morning's _Times_. The siege is at a standstill; +the fuzes won't fit the shells. There are plenty of 10-inch fuzes, but +only 13-inch shells. Who is to blame for that?" + +"Our ordnance branch, I fear. But it shall be seen to: I will address +a communication to the head, calling his attention to the error." + +"And when will he get the letter?" + +"In the course of the next two or three days." + +"And his reply will take about the same time to reach you, I suppose?" + +"Probably: more or less." + +"Where is the office of the ordnance branch? In this house?" + +"Oh, no!" replied Mr. Faulks, in a voice full of profound pity for the +lamentable ignorance of his chief. "It is at No. 14." + +"Just round the corner--in fact, half-a-dozen yards off?" + +"Yes, about that." + +"Well, look here, Mr. Faulks: you just put on your hat and go round +the corner and see the head of the ordnance branch, and settle all +this with him in the next five minutes, d'ye hear?" + +"What, I? personally? That would be altogether against precedent and +contrary to the rules of the office. I really must decline to +introduce such a radical change." + +"You will obey my order, this very instant! It is utterly preposterous +to waste six days sending letters backwards and forwards about a +paltry matter that can be settled by word of mouth in as many minutes. +No wonder the troops have died like rotten sheep!" + +"I have been five-and-thirty years in this office--" began Mr. +Faulks. + +"Oh! don't bother me with your historical reminiscences," said Sir +Humphrey, cutting him short. + +"And never, during all that period--" went on Mr. Faulks, manfully. + +"--Have you done anything to-day that could be put off till +to-morrow? But now go and see about this at once--do you +understand?--and then come back to me; I have other matters to +arrange. We have news that a fresh expedition will shortly start for +Kertch, and we are requested to send out with all dispatch +considerable supplies of salt rations." + +"It will be necessary to refer to the Admiralty: they will require +proper notice." + +"You will get the rations within twenty-four hours, notice or no +notice. But we will discuss that by-and-by. Meanwhile, hurry off to +the ordnance branch." + +Mr. Faulks went to the door, protesting and muttering to himself. + +"Stay! one word more! It is wrong of me, perhaps, to hint that your +zeal requires any stimulus, Mr. Faulks." + +"Hardly, I hope. I have endeavoured for the last five-and-thirty +years--" + +"Yes, yes, we know all about that. But I have been told that you +looked for some special recognition of your services--a decoration, +the Order of the Bath--from the last Administration. Now, unless you +bestir yourself, don't expect anything of the kind from us." + +"I do not pretend to say that I have earned the favour of my +Sovereign; but in any case it would depend upon her most gracious +Majesty whether--" + +"Don't make any mistake about it. You can only get the Bath through +the recommendation of your immediate superiors. There's stimulus, if +you want it. But don't let me detain you any more." + +Mr. Faulks went slowly downstairs, and still more slowly resumed his +out-of-door frock-coat; he took up his hat and stick in the same +deliberate fashion, and started at a snail's pace for round the +corner. + +He drawled and dawdled through the business, which five minutes' sharp +talk could have ended, and it was nearly lunch-time before he returned +to his chief. + +"Well, you might have been to the Crimea and back!" said Sir Humphrey, +impatiently. + +"Matters of such moment are not to be disposed of out of hand. Haste +is certain to produce dangerous confusion, and it has been my unvaried +experience during five-and-thirty years--" + +"Which it has taken you to find the shortest way next door. But there! +let us get on with our work. Now, about this expedition to Kertch?" + +And Sir Humphrey proceeded to discuss and dispose of great questions +of supply in a prompt, off-hand way that both silenced and terrified +Mr. Faulks. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MR. FAULKS TALKS. + + +Mr. Faulks was rather fond of good living, and, as a rule, he never +allowed official cares to interfere with his lunch, a meal brought in +on a tray from an eating-house in the Strand. To make a proper +selection from the bill of fare sent in every morning was a weighty +matter, taking precedence over any other work, however pressing. + +But to-day he scarcely enjoyed the haricot of lamb with new potatoes +and young peas that he found waiting, and slightly cold, when he went +downstairs to his own room. + +"For two pins I'd take my retirement; I can claim it; where would they +be then?" + +This estimable personage shared with thousands the strange +superstition that the world cannot do without them. + +"This cook is falling off most terribly. The lamb is uneatable, the +potatoes are waxy, and the peas like pills. Ugh! I never made a worse +lunch!" + +A large cigar and the perusal of the long-neglected _Times_ did not +pacify him much, and he was still fretting and fuming when his +messenger brought in a three-cornered note and asked if there was any +reply. + +"The lady, sir--a real lady, I should think--'ave brought it in her +own bruffam, and was most particular, sir, as you should 'ave it at +once." + +Mr. Faulks took the letter and examined it carefully. + +"From that charming woman, Mrs. Wilders, my cousin, or rather Stanny's +cousin; but his relations are mine. I am his uncle; some day, if he +lives, I shall be uncle to an earl. They will treat me better perhaps +when I have all the Essendine interest at my back. Whippersnappers +like this Fothergill will scarcely dare to snub me then. A good lad +Stanislas; I always liked him. I wish he was back amongst us, and not +at that horrid war." + +"The lady, sir, is most anxious, sir, to have a answer," put in the +messenger, recalling Mr. Faulks's attention to the letter. + +"Ah! to be sure. One moment," and he read the note:-- + + "Cannot I see you?" it said. "I am oppressed with fears for + our dear Stanislas. Do please spare me a few minutes of your + valuable time. + + "CYPRIENNE W." + +"I will go down to her at once, say." And, seizing his hat, Mr. Faulks +followed the messenger into the street, where he found Mrs. Wilders in +her tiny brougham, at the door of the office. + +"Oh, how good of you!" she said, putting out a little hand in a +perfectly-fitting grey glove. "I would not disturb you for worlds, but +I was so anxious." + +"What has happened? Nothing serious, I trust?" + +"I do not know. I cannot say. I am terribly upset." + +"Do tell me all about it." + +"Of course; that is why I came. But it will take some time. Will you +get into the carriage? Are you going anywhere? I can take you, and +tell you upon the road." + +"I am afraid I cannot leave just at present." He had misgivings as to +his arbitrary young chief. "But if I might suggest, and if you will +honour me so far, will you not come upstairs to my room?" + +"Oh! willingly, if you will allow me." + +This was all that she wished. Very soon, escorted by her obsequious +friend, she found herself in his arm-chair, pouring forth a long and +intricate, not to say incomprehensible, story about Stanislas McKay. +She had heard, she said--it was not necessary to say how--that they +meant to send him on some secret expedition, full of danger, she +understood, and she thought it such a pity--so wrong, so unfair! + +"He ought really to return to England and take up his proper +position," she went on. "Lord Essendine wishes it, and so, I am sure, +must you." + +"No one will be more pleased to welcome him back than myself," said +Mr. Faulks. "I should be glad indeed of his countenance and support +just now. They do not treat me too well here." + +"Can it be possible!" she exclaimed, in a voice of tenderest interest. +"You whom I have always thought one of the most useful, estimable men +in the public service." + +"Things are not what they were, my dear lady; they do not appreciate +me here. They deny me the smallest, the most trifling recognition. +Would you believe it that, after five-and-thirty years of +uninterrupted service, they still hesitate to give me a decoration? I +ought to have had the Companionship of the Bath at the last change of +Ministry." + +"Of course you ought; I have often heard Lord Essendine say so." + +"Has he now, really?" asked Mr. Faulks, much flattered. + +"Frequently," went on Mrs. Wilders, fluently, availing herself readily +of the opening he had given her. "I am sure he has only to know that +you are disappointed in this matter and he will give you the warmest +support. You know he belongs to the party now in power, and a word +from him--" + +"If he will deign to interest himself on my behalf the matter is, of +course, settled." + +"And he shall, rely on me for that." + +"How can I ever thank you sufficiently, dear lady, for your most +gracious, most generous encouragement? If I can serve you in any way, +command me." + +"Well, you can oblige me in a little matter I have much at heart." + +"Only name it," he cried, earnestly. + +"Come and dine with me to-night in Thistle Grove." + +"Is that all? I accept with enthusiasm." + +"Only a small party: four at the most. You know I am still in deepest +mourning. My poor dear general--" she dropped her voice and her +eyes. + +"Ah!" said Mr. Faulks, sympathetically; "you have known great sorrows. +But you must not brood, dear lady: we should struggle with grief." He +took her hand, and looked at her in a kindly, pitying way. + +The moment was ill-timed for interruption, but the blame was Sir +Humphrey's, who now sent the messenger with a fresh and more imperious +summons for the attendance of Mr. Faulks. + +He got up hurriedly, nervously, saying-- + +"I must leave you, dear lady; there are matters of great urgency to be +dealt with to-day." + +"No apologies: it's my fault for trespassing here. I will run away. +To-night--do not forget me, at eight," and Mrs. Wilders took her +departure. + +The little house in Thistle Grove wore its most smiling aspect at +evening, with its soft-shaded lamps, pretty hangings, and quantities +of variegated, sweet-smelling flowers; it was radiant with light, full +of perfume, bright in colour. + +Mrs. Wilders's guests were three--Mrs. Jones, a staid, hard-featured, +middle-aged lady in deep black, an officer's widow like herself, as +she explained, who lived a few doors down, and was an acquaintance of +the last month or two, Mr. Hobson, and Mr. Faulks. + +The dinner was almost studied in simplicity, but absolutely perfect of +its kind. Clear soup, salmon cutlets, a little joint, salad, and quail +in vine-leaves. The only wine was a sound medium claret, except at +dessert, when, after the French fashion, Mrs. Wilders gave champagne. + +Through dinner the talk had been light and trivial, but with dessert +and coffee it gradually grew more serious, and touched upon the topics +of the day. + +"These must be trying times for you Government officials," said Mr. +Hobson, carelessly. + +"Yes, indeed," replied Mr. Faulks, with a deep sigh. "I often feel +that life is hardly worth having." + +"The public service is no bed of roses," remarked Mrs. Jones. "It +killed my poor dear husband." + +"It is so disheartening to slave day after day as you do," went on +Mrs. Wilders to Mr. Faulks, "and get no thanks." + +"Very much the other thing!" cried Mr. Hobson; "you are about the best +abused people in the world, I should say, just now." + +"It is hard on us, for I assure you we do our best. We are constantly, +uninterruptedly at work. I never know a moment that I may not be +wanted--that some special messenger may not be after me. I have to +leave my address so that they can find me wherever I am, and at any +time." + +"Is it so now?" asked Mrs. Wilders. "Cannot you even give me the +pleasure of your society for an hour or two without its being known?" + +"I do it in this way, dear lady. I leave a sealed envelope on my hall +table, which is only opened in case of urgency." + +"You don't expect to be summoned to-night, I hope?" inquired the fair +hostess. + +"I cannot say; it is quite probable." + +"There are, perhaps, important movements intended in the Crimea?" +asked Mr. Hobson, as he picked his strawberries and prepared himself a +sauce of sugar and cream. + +"You have heard so?" replied Mr. Faulks. + +"There was something in the _Times_ this morning from their special +correspondent. Some new expedition was talked of." + +"They ought to be all shot, these correspondents," said Mr. Faulks, +decisively. "They permit themselves to canvass the conduct and +character of persons of our position with a freedom that is +intolerable." + +"Pardon me," said Mr. Hobson, "but as one of the British public, a +taxpayer and bearer of the public burden, I feel grateful to these +newspaper gentlemen for seeing that our money is properly spent." + +"I am sorry to hear you commend them," said Mr. Faulks, in a way that +implied much resentment. + +"Well, but without them we should hear of nothing that is going on. +This new expedition, for instance, which I have a shrewd suspicion +covers some deep design." + +"You think so, do you? On what ground, pray?" said Mr. Faulks, with +the slight sneer of superior knowledge. + +"The _Times_ man hints as much. There has long been a rumour of some +change in the plan of operations, and he seems to be right in his +conjecture." + +"He knows nothing at all about it--how can he?" said Mr. Faulks, +contemptuously. + +"You must forgive my differing with you. It is not my business to say +how he obtains his information, but I have generally found that he is +right. Now, this great expedition--" + +"Is all moonshine!" cried Mr. Faulks, losing his temper, and thrown +off his guard. "It's quite a small affair--a trip round the Sea of +Azof, and the reduction of Kertch." + +"The old affair revived, in fact." + +"Neither more nor less. There is no intention at the present moment of +drawing any large detachment from the siege. On the contrary, every +effort is being strained to bring it to an end." + +"Quite right too; it ought to be vigorously prosecuted--attack should +follow attack." + +"We shall hear of one or more before long," went on Mr. Faulks, +growing more and more garrulous. "Our advanced trenches are creeping +very near, and I expect any day to hear that the French have stormed +the Mamelon, and our people the Quarries." + +"Indeed? That is very interesting. And we shall take them--do you +think?" + +"We must. The attacking columns will be of great strength, and the +attack will be preceded by a tremendous cannonade." + +"So we may expect great news in the next few days?" said Mrs. Wilders, +eagerly. + +"More bloodshed!" added Mrs. Jones, with a deep sigh. "This terrible +war!" + +"You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs," said Mr. Hobson, +sententiously. "The more terrible a war is, the sooner it is ended." + +"We are getting very ghastly in our talk," said Mrs. Wilders. "Suppose +we go into the drawing-room and have some tea." + +As they passed out of the dining-room, Mr. Hobson managed to whisper a +few words. + +"I have squeezed him dry: that was all I wanted to know. I need not +stay any longer, I think." + +"Who knows? His special messenger may come down with the very latest. +If so, you ought to be able to extract that from him too." + +Mrs. Wilders spoke these words carelessly; but, as often happens, they +correctly foretold what presently occurred. + +When they were all seated cosily around the tea-table, Mrs. Wilders's +man brought in a great dispatch upon a salver. + +"For Mr. Faulks," he said, and with an air of the greatest importance +the hard-worked, indispensable official tore open the cover. + +It contained a few hurried lines from Sir Humphrey Fothergill to the +following effect:-- + +"A telegram has just been received from Lord Raglan. It contains +painful news for you; but I thought it best to let you have it at +once." + +He opened the telegram with trembling hands and read-- + +"Yesterday, Mr. McKay, of the quartermaster-general's staff, ventured +through the enemy's lines in the direction of the Tchernaya to make a +special reconnaissance. He unfortunately was captured. I sent a flag +of truce into Sebastopol, asking that he might be exchanged, but have +been peremptorily refused. Gortschakoff asserts that he is a Russian +subject and was taken red-handed as a spy. He is to be executed +immediately. Will renew request with strong protest, but fear there is +no hope." + +Mr. Faulks groaned heavily and let the telegram fall on the ground. + +"What has happened?" asked Mrs. Wilders, eagerly. + +"You were right--too right. That poor boy--" + +"Stanislas?" + +"Yes; my poor nephew has fallen into the hands of these bloodthirsty +Russians, who are resolved to execute him as a traitor and a spy." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MARIQUITA'S QUEST. + + +Hyde's unfortunate affair with the sailor had ended in a broken rib +and a dislocated arm. He was taken back senseless to the camp of the +Royal Picts, and for some days required the closest care. It was +nearly a week before he so far recovered himself as to be able to give +any account of what had occurred, and longer before he remembered +accurately what was taking him to headquarters at the time of the +accident. + +It flashed across him quite suddenly, and with something of a shock, +that while he lay there helpless his friend McKay was still in danger. + +"When shall I be able to get about again?" he asked the doctor, +anxiously. + +"You won't be fit for duty, if that's what you're driving at, for many +a long day to come." + +"I can go about with my arm in a sling. I am beginning to feel +perfectly well otherwise." + +"What's the good of a soldier with his arm in a sling? No: as soon as +you are fit to move I shall have you sent down to Scutari." + +"But I don't want to go: I had much rather stay here with the old +corps." + +He was thinking of the business he had still in hand. + +"You will have to obey orders, anyhow, so make up your mind to go." + +The regimental surgeon of the Royal Picts was a morose old Scotchman, +very obstinate and intolerant of opposition. What he said he stuck to, +and Hyde knew that he must prepare to leave the Crimea in a short +time, probably before he was strong enough to go in person to +headquarters and find out McKay. + +It would be necessary, therefore, to find some other messenger, and, +after considering what was best to be done, he resolved to beg Colonel +Blythe to come and see him, intending to make him his confidant. + +"Well, Rupert," said the Colonel--they were alone together--"this is a +bad business. Macinlay tells me you won't be fit for duty for months. +He is going to send you at once before a medical board." + +"It is very aggravating, Colonel, as I particularly wished to be here +for the next few weeks. + +"To be in at the death, I suppose? We are bound to take the place at +the next attack." + +"I hope you may. But it is not that. Our friend McKay is in imminent +danger." + +"What is the nature of the danger?" + +"He is pursued by the relentless hate of an infamous woman: one who +has never yet spared any who dared to thwart or oppose her." + +"What on earth do you mean, Hyde?" The colonel thought the old +sergeant was wandering in his mind. "There are no women out here +except Mother Charcoal, and a few French _vivandières_. How can any of +them threaten McKay?" + +"It is as I say, colonel. By-and-by I will tell you everything. But +let me implore you to find out McKay at once and bring him to me. I +cannot, you see, go to him." + +"Is this very urgent?" + +"A matter of life and death, I assure you." + +"I will order a horse at once. It is all very mysterious and +extraordinary; but then you have been a mystery, Rupert Hyde, a riddle +and a puzzle, ever since I have known you." + +"It will all be unravelled some day, colonel, never fear; but lose no +time, let me beg;" and, thus adjured, the colonel presently mounted +his horse and galloped over to headquarters. + +He arrived there the day after McKay's excursion into the Russian +lines. The young staff-officer was still absent, and fears were +already entertained as to his safety, although it was not positively +known as yet that he had come to harm. + +Let us leave Colonel Blythe and other friends exchanging anxious +conjectures as to McKay's fate and return to Mariquita, whose +misgivings had steadily increased from the day she had last seen Hyde. + +He had promised she should see him again, and, perhaps, Stanislas, +without delay. Yet this was more than a week since. What had become of +the old soldier? Had he fulfilled his mission of warning, or had he +been involved in the dire intrigues that threatened her lover? + +Her lover, too; her Stanislas--to save whom she had come so far, +braving so many dangers, and at the peril of her maidenly +self-respect--had anything happened to him? + +The terrible uncertainty was crushing her. She must know something, +even the worst, or her apprehensions, ever present and hourly +increasing, would kill her. + +To whom could she turn in this time of cruel suspense? Hyde had +deserted her, seemingly; in spite of her heartfelt anxiety she could +not bring herself to approach McKay. + +One other man there was; that villain, Benito Villegas--the source, in +truth, of all her trouble--might give her news. Bad news, possibly, +but still news, if only she could lay hands on him. Where and how was +he hiding? Every effort to find him had been fruitless hitherto. + +At Valetta Joe's they knew no such name, so they told her when she +inquired cautiously for Benito from some of the loafers hanging about +the shop. + +Yet that was the place to which he was to proceed on arrival. The +letter she had picked up in Bombardier Lane said so. He must be +hiding, or in disguise; and now, when her anxiety for her beloved +Stanislas was at its highest pitch, she was more than ever resolved to +find out somehow what Benito was doing. + +One afternoon, when business was rather slack at Mother Charcoal's, +she seized a chance of visiting the hut-town. + +"Any work?" she asked, in Spanish, of Valetta Joe himself, whom she +met at the door of his shanty. + +"What can you do? Where do you come from? Spain?" replied the baker in +the same tongue. + +"Yes, from Malaga. I can do anything--try me." + +"Can you sell bread through the camp? I am a man short, and could take +you on, perhaps, until he is better. Come down below, and I will give +you a basketful to hawk about." + +"I shall have to tell them at the canteen--Mother Charcoal's--that I +am going to leave." + +"That won't do. You must come at once if you come at all. Which will +you do?" + +While she still hesitated, a voice from the subterranean regions at +the end of the shop fell upon her ear. Her heart gave a great jump at +the sound--it was Benito's. "Joe! Joe!" he was crying, in feeble +accents. + +"It's take it or leave it. There are plenty of your sort about. Well, +what do you say?" + +"I accept," said Mariquita, eagerly. "When shall I begin work?" + +"Now, this minute. Come down and help me to get a batch of bread out +of the oven." + +They passed down into the cellar by a short ladder, and Mariquita +found herself in a dimly-lighted cavernous den, hot and stifling, at +one end of which glowed the grate below the oven. + +"Joe! Joe!" repeated Benito's voice, and Mariquita, with difficulty, +made out his figure lying on a heap of rags in a corner of the cellar. + +"Well?" answered Joe, roughly, as soon as he had pointed out the +bread-trays and desired her to get them in order. "What's wrong with +you now? You are always groaning and calling out." + +"Water!" asked Benito, piteously. "This place is like a furnace. I am +suffering torments from raging thirst and this cruel wound. Accursed +Englishman! may I live to repay him!" + +"You will have to hurry and get well, or the Russians will save you +the trouble," remarked Joe. + +"That is my only consolation. It was I who gave him to them." + +Although bending busily over her task, Mariquita felt her heart beat +faster and faster. These words, which she now overheard through such a +strange chance, clearly referred to her lover. + +"Will they hang him, do you think?" asked Benito. + +"As sure as the sun breeds flies. We have done our business too well +to give him a chance of escape." + +"Would that I might hold the rope, that I might see his agony, his +last convulsions! That I might myself revenge the tortures he has made +me bear!" + +And Benito sank back upon his miserable bed, groaning with pain. + +"Don't whine like that, you miserable cur!" said Joe, brutally. "It's +bad enough to have you here at all, without your disturbing the whole +place. Why did you come here?" + +"Where else could I go? I never expected to get so far. I was faint +from loss of blood, and in frightful pain. I thought I should die as I +crawled along." + +"Better you had than bring me into trouble, as you will if the +provost-marshal finds you here." + +"It is cowardly of you to ill-treat and upbraid me. Take care! I am +helpless now, but by-and-by, when I am well and strong, you shall +suffer for your cruelty." + +"What! you threaten me? But there, it is idle to waste words on such a +wretched rogue; I have other work to do. Now, young imp!" cried Joe, +turning to Mariquita, "stir yourself, and let us get out this batch of +bread." + +The conversation which she had overheard, conveying as it did the +confirmation of her worst fears, had agitated Mariquita exceedingly, +but she knew that she must control her emotion, and arouse no +suspicions in the minds of these villains. Benito, wounded, and in +desperate case, was in no position to recognise her, and Joe was, of +course, completely in the dark as to whom he had admitted within his +shop. + +The work in the cellar was not completed and the bread carried +upstairs for an hour or more, during which time Mariquita was able to +think over and decide what she would do. She had matured her plan when +they got upstairs. + +"Pay me!" she said, saucily, to Valetta Joe. "I shan't stop here." + +"Pay you, vile imp? Why, I only took you on trial!" + +"Pay me!" she repeated. "You shan't cheat me." + +"I owe you nothing. Be off out of this or you shall feel the weight of +my hand." + +"Pay me, you swindling old rogue!" shouted Mariquita, in a shrill +voice. "I won't go till I get my rights." + +"You won't!" cried Joe, as he seized her roughly by the collar and +dragged her towards the door. + +"Villain! Thief! Murder! Help, help! He is killing me!" cried +Mariquita, now at the top of her voice, and this frenzied appeal had +the exact effect she hoped. A crowd of camp-followers quickly +gathered around the door of the shanty, and with it came a couple of +stalwart assistants of the provost-marshal. + +"What's all this?" asked one of them, in a peremptory tone. "Leave +that lad alone, you old rascal!" + +"What's he doing to you?" asked the other. + +"He won't pay me my wages," said Mariquita, in a whining, piteous +voice. "He owes me three shillings." + +"I don't, you lying little ragamuffin! I only took you on trial." + +"He does; and he was beating me, ill-using me," went on Mariquita. + +"We can't have no disturbance here," said one of the provost-marshal's +men. "You must come before the provost, both of you; he'll settle your +case in a brace of shakes. Bill, you bring the old man; I'll take +charge of the youngster." + +And the two guardians of order marched their prisoners through the +hut-town to a wooden building at the end, where Major Shervinton dealt +out a simple, rough-and-ready justice to the turbulent characters he +ruled. + +This was precisely what Mariquita had hoped for. What she sought at +all hazards was to gain speech of the provost-marshal. + +They had to wait for him half-an-hour, and when he appeared there were +other cases to be dealt with first. + +When it came to Valetta Joe's turn, he stoutly denied the charge of +defrauding and ill-using the lad. + +"I don't know about the wages, sir," said one of the assistants, "but +we caught him in the act of cuffing the boy." + +"What does he owe you, my lad?" asked Major Shervinton. + +"Nothing," replied Mariquita, trembling and in very imperfect English. +"I only wanted to get him here to denounce him as a friend of the +Russians and a spy." + +"There's not a word of truth in what he says!" cried Joe, looking at +her with open-mouthed astonishment. + +"We have long had our eye upon you, my friend, you know that; and I +shall inquire into this more closely." + +"At this moment there is a man--his name is Benito Villegas--in the +bakehouse below the shop," said Mariquita. "He is wounded; you will +find him there. Go and seize him; make him tell you what he has done +with the English officer, Mr. McKay." + +"Mr. McKay!" said the provost-marshal, deeply interested at once. "He +is absent--missing! Have you heard anything of him or his fate?" + +"Make Benito tell you. He has betrayed him into the Russians' hands." + +"This is very important intelligence. What you say shall be verified +at once. See to the prisoners, one of you, and let some one come with +me to Joe's shop." + +Major Shervinton made short work of Benito. + +"Look here, my fine fellow, you had better make a clean breast of it +all. What have you done with Mr. McKay?" + +Benito shook his head, groaned, and pointed to his wounded arm. + +"I see you have been hit; but that won't prevent your talking. Tell me +exactly what happened--it's your only chance; if you don't, we will +wait till your arm is healed, and then hang you here in the middle of +the hut-town. Come, speak out." + +"You will spare my life if I tell you?" + +"Perhaps: if it is the truth. We shall have means of finding out. But +look sharp!" + +In feeble, faltering accents Benito told his story, laying stress on +the villainy of others and making light of the part he had himself +played. + +While the provost-marshal was examining the trembling wretch his +assistants had been making a thorough search of the shop. They came +presently to their chief, laden with a number of papers: letters, +passes signed by Gortschakoff, and other documents of a compromising +character, plainly proving that this place had long been the centre of +a cunningly-devised secret correspondence with the enemy. + +"There's enough to hang you both, and perhaps others too, at home. As +for you," he turned to Benito, "I will have you removed to the +Balaclava hospital. You will be better looked after there, and we +shall have you under our hands when required. Your accomplice, the +commander-in-chief will deal with, I trust, very summarily; we have +overwhelming proofs of his guilt." + +Major Shervinton returned to his office, where the prisoners anxiously +awaited his verdict. + +"Take Joe away, and put a double sentry over him. I shall ride over to +headquarters to report the whole case." + +"Oh, good, kind, beneficent sir," began Joe, wringing his hands, +"spare me! There no word of truth in all this. I done nothing, I +swear. I unjustly accused. I--" + +"March him out," said Shervinton. "Such vermin as you must be +ruthlessly destroyed. + +"And the lad, sir?" asked an assistant. + +"To be sure; I had forgotten. Well, boy, you have behaved uncommonly +well. What shall we do for you?" + +"Nothing," she faltered out, "only save him--save Mr. McKay." + +"Mr. McKay! Do you know him? What--when--?" asked Major Shervinton, +greatly surprised at the agonised accents in which Mariquita spoke, +yet more, seeing that her eyes were filled with tears. "Who are you? +Where do you come from?" he went on, examining the little creature +attentively. + +He noticed now for the first time the delicate skin, the clear-cut, +regular features, the lustrous, eyes; he remarked the fragile form, +the shy, shrinking manner of the lad, who stood diffidently, +deprecatingly, before him, and he said to himself, "What an +exceedingly handsome boy! Boy!" he repeated, and now suddenly a doubt +crossed his mind as to the proper sex of the young person who evinced +such a tender interest in Stanislas McKay. + +"Some secret romance, probably," he went on, smiling at the thought, +but quickly changing his mood as he remembered how tragic its end was +likely to be. + +"I will do all I can to save him, rest assured," he went on aloud, +"and if we recover him from the clutches of the enemy he shall +certainly know how much he owes to you." + +The vivid blush that overspread her cheeks at these words betrayed her +completely. + +"But, my poor child," went on the provost-marshal, in a kindly, +sympathetic voice, "what are we to do with you? It was madness, +surely, for you to venture here. Have you any friends? Let me see you +safe back to them. Where do you live?" + +Mariquita in a low voice explained that she was employed at Mother +Charcoal's. + +"Does she know about you?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Mariquita, in a still lower, almost inaudible +voice. + +"She is a good old soul, and may be trusted to take care of you. +Still, her canteen is no place for such as you. You shall stay with +her, but only till we can send you on to one of the troopships with +female nurses on board." + +Having thus decided, Shervinton himself escorted Mariquita to Mother +Charcoal's, and then rode on to headquarters. + +He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he +brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay. + +"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard +Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle +Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's. + +"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal, +and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion. + +"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We +have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince +Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare +his life." + +"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But, +should McKay be sacrificed, she--his murderess--must not escape," said +Blythe, hotly. + +"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir +Richard. + +"One of my officers--Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe +repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning. + +"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best man to pursue her--to +bring her to judgment for her villanies. There is enough in these +papers to convict her. But he could hardly leave the Crimea just now." + +"He happens at this moment to be going down to Scutari, on sick leave: +he could easily go on." + +"Is he strong enough?" + +"He is gaining strength daily; it is only a wounded arm." + +"That will be best. I will arrange with Lord Raglan to give him leave, +provided he will accept the mission." + +Without further delay Blythe went back to his camp and told Hyde all +that had occurred. + +"Go! Of course I will go. This very day, if the doctor will let me. I +will unmask her; I will spoil her game. If I cannot save Stanislas, at +least she shall not benefit by her crime." + +"You are sure you can find her?" + +"Trust me! People in her position are easily found. The first Court +Guide will give you her address. She holds her head high, and must pay +the penalty of greatness." + +The prospect of starting soon for England on such an errand seemed to +restore Hyde to energy and strength. + +"Not fit to travel!" he said to the doctor, who still expressed some +doubts on that head. "Why, I am fit for anything." + +"Nonsense, man! You won't be able to use your arm for weeks." + +"I shan't want it. My head's sound and clear; that's the chief thing. +The moment I get my leave and my orders, I'm off." + +They gave Hyde a passage home in the _Himalaya_, a man-of-war +transport, and at that time one of the swiftest steamers afloat. At +the most, the journey would not occupy more than twelve days or a +fortnight. He might not be able or in time to do much for Stanislas in +his present peril, but he at least hoped that retribution might follow +fast on the betrayal of his friend. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +INSIDE THE FORTRESS. + + +It is time to return to Stanislas McKay, whose life, forfeited under +the ruthless laws of a semi-barbarous power, still hung by a thread. + +He had been taken into Sebastopol by his escort at a rapid pace. It +was a ride of half-a-dozen miles, no more, and the greater part of it, +when once they regained the Tchernaya, followed the low ground that +margins both sides of the river. + +McKay could see plainly the English cavalry vedettes in the plain; +but, fast bound as he was, it was impossible for him to make any +signal to his friends. It was as well that he could not try, for he +would certainly have paid the penalty with his life. + +They watched him very closely, these wild, unkempt, half-savage +horsemen; watched him as though he were a captive animal--a beast of +prey which might at any time break loose and rend them. + +But the rough uncivilised Cossacks of the Don were not bad fellows +after all. + +Although they at first looked askance at him when he spoke to them, +these simple boors were presently won over by the distress and +sufferings of their prisoner. + +McKay was in great pain; his bonds cut into his flesh, he was +exhausted by the night's work, dejected at the ruin of his enterprise, +uneasy as to his fate. + +No food had crossed his lips for many hours, his throat was parched +and dry under the fierce heat of the sun. + +He begged piteously for water, speaking in Russian, and using the most +familiar style of address. The men who rode on each side of him soon +thawed as he called them "his little fathers," and implored them to +give him a drink. + +"Presently, at the first halt," they said. + +And so he had to battle with his thirst while they still hurried on. + +Suddenly the officer in command called a halt--they had now reached +the picket-house at Tractir Bridge--and rode out to the flank of the +party. He seemed perturbed, anxious in his mind, and raised his hand +to shroud his eyes as he peered eagerly across the plain. + +"Here!" he shouted, rising in his stirrups and turning round. "Bring +up the prisoner." + +McKay was led to his side. + +"What is the meaning of that?" asked the officer haughtily, speaking +in French, as he pointed to a cloud of dust in the distant plain. + +"How can I tell you?" replied McKay, shortly: but in his own mind he +was certain that this was the contemplated extension of the French and +Sardinian lines towards the Tchernaya. For a moment his heart beat +high with the hope that this movement might help him to escape. + +"You know, you rogue! Tell me, or it will be the worse for you." + +"I don't know," replied McKay stoutly; "and if I did I should not tell +you." + +"Dirty spy! You would have sold us for a price, do the same now by the +others. You owe them no allegiance; besides, you are in our power. +Tell me, and I will let you go." + +"Your bribe is wasted on me. I am a British officer--" + +"Pshaw! Officer?" and the fellow raised his whip to strike McKay, but +happily held his hand. + +"Here! take him back," he said angrily, and McKay was again placed in +the midst of the party. + +He renewed his entreaties for a drink, and a Cossack, taking pity on +him, offered him a canteen. + +It was full of _vodkhi_, an ardent spirit beloved by the Russian +peasant, half-a-dozen drops of which McKay managed to gulp down, but +they nearly burned his throat. + +"Water! water!" he asked again. + +And the Cossack, evidently surprised at his want of taste, substituted +the simpler fluid; but the charitable act drew down upon him the +displeasure of his chief. + +"How dare you! without my permission?" cried the officer, as he dashed +the water from McKay's lips, and punished the offending Cossack by a +few sharp strokes with his whip. + +"Come, fall in!" the officer next said. "It won't do to linger here." +And the party resumed their ride, still in the valley, but as far as +possible from the stream. + +Every yard McKay's hopes sank lower and lower; every yard took him +further from his friends, who were advancing, he felt certain, towards +the river. Large bodies of troops, columns of infantry on the march, +covered by cavalry and accompanied by guns, were now perfectly visible +in the distant plain. + +"Look to your front!" cried the Russian officer peremptorily to +Stanislas, as he stole a furtive, lingering glance back. "Faster! Spur +your horses, or we may be picked up or shot." + +All hope was gone now. This was the end of the Tchernaya valley. Up +there opposite were the Inkerman heights, the sloping hills that a few +months before McKay had helped to hold. This paved, much-worn +causeway was the "Sappers' Road," leading round the top of the harbour +into the town. + +No one stopped the Cossacks. + +They passed a picket in a half-ruined guard-house, the roof of which, +its door, walls, and windows, were torn and shattered in the fierce +and frequent bombardments. Even at that moment a round shot crashed +over their heads, took the ground further off, and bounded away. The +sentry asked no questions. Some one looked out and waved his hand in +greeting to the Cossack officer, who replied, pointing ahead, as the +party rode rapidly on. + +Time pressed; it promised to be a warm morning. The besiegers' fire, +intended no doubt to distract attention from the movements in the +Tchernaya, was constantly increasing. + +"What dog's errand is this they sent me on?" growled the Cossack +officer, as a shell burst close to him and killed one of the escort. + +"Faster! faster!" + +And still, harassed by shot and shell, they pushed on. + +All this time the road led by the water's edge; but presently they +left it, and, crossing the head of a creek, mounted a steep hill, +which brought them to the Karabel suburb, as it was called, a detached +part of the main town, now utterly wrecked and ruined by the +besiegers' fire. + +The Cossack officer made his way to a large barrack occupying a +central elevated position, and dismounted at the principal doorway. + +"Is it thou, Stoschberg?" cried a friend who came out to meet him. +"Here, in Sebastopol?" + +"To my sorrow. Where is the general? I have news for him. The enemy +are moving in force upon the Tchernaya." + +"Ha! is it so? And that has brought you here?" + +"That, and the escort of yonder villain--a rascally spy, whom we +caught last night in our lines." + +"Bring him along too; the general may wish to question him." + +McKay was unbound, ordered to dismount, and then, still under escort, +was marched into the building. It was roofless, but an inner chamber +had been constructed--a cellar, so to speak--under the ground-floor, +with a roof of its own of rammed earth many feet thick, supported by +heavy beams. This was one of the famous casemates invented by +Todleben, impervious to shot and shell, and affording a safe shelter +to the troops. + +McKay was halted at the door or aperture, across which hung a common +yellow rug. The officers passed in, and their voices, with others, +were heard in animated discussion, which lasted some minutes; then the +one called Stoschberg came out and fetched McKay. + +He found himself in an underground apartment plainly but comfortably +furnished. In the centre, under a hanging lamp, was a large table +covered with maps and plans, and at the table sat a tall, handsome +man, still in the prime of life. He was dressed in the usual long +plain great-coat of coarse drab cloth, but he had shoulder-straps of +broad gold lace, and his flat muffin cap lying in front of him was +similarly ornamented. This personage, an officer of rank evidently, +looked up sharply, and addressed McKay in French. + +"What is the meaning of this movement in the Tchernaya?" he asked. +"You understand French of course? People of your trade speak all +tongues." + +"I speak French," replied McKay, "but English is my native tongue. I +am a British officer--" + +"I have told you of his pretensions, Excellency," interposed the +Cossack officer. + +"Yes, yes! this is mere waste of time. What is the meaning of this +movement in the Tchernaya, I repeat? Tell me, and I may save your +life." + +"You have no right to ask me that question, and I decline to answer +it, whatever the risk." + +"An obstinate fellow, truly!" said the general, half to himself. "What +do you call yourself?" + +Then followed a conversation very similar to that which had taken +place at Tchorgoun. + +"I, too, knew your father," said the general, shaking his head. "It is +a bad case; I fear you must expect the worst." + +"I shall meet it as a soldier should," replied McKay, stoutly. "But I +shall always protest, even with my dying breath, that I have been +foully and shamefully used. I appeal to you, a Russian officer of +high rank, of whose name I am ignorant--" + +"My name is Todleben, of the Imperial Engineers." + +McKay started, and, notwithstanding the imminent peril of his +position, looked with interest upon the man who was known, even in the +British lines, as the heart and soul of the defence. + +"I appeal to you, sir," he pleaded, "as a general officer, a man of +high honour and known integrity, to protect me from outrage." + +"I can do nothing," replied Todleben, gravely, shrugging his +shoulders. "The Prince himself will decide. Take him away. I cannot +waste time with him if he is not disposed to speak. Let him be kept a +close prisoner until the Prince is ready to see him." + +The general then bent his head over his plans, and took no further +notice of McKay. + +Our hero was again marched into the yard, made to remount, re-bound, +and led off towards the principal part of the town. They now skirted +the ridge of the Karabel suburb, and began to descend. Half way down +they came upon a series of excavations in the side of the hill. These +were old caves that had been enlarged and strengthened with timbers +and earth. Each had its own doorway, a massive piece of palisading. +They were used as barracks, casemated, and practically safe during the +siege. Into one of these McKay was taken; it was empty; the men who +occupied it were on duty just then at the Creek Battery below. In one +corner lay a heap of straw and old blankets, filthy, and infested with +the liveliest vermin. + +One of the escort pointed to this uninviting bed, and told the +prisoner he might rest himself there. McKay, weary and disconsolate, +gladly threw himself upon this loathsome couch. They might shoot him +next morning, but for the time at least he could forget all his cares +in sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +FROM THE DEAD. + + +We have seen how the news of Stanislas McKay's capture by the Russians +was communicated to his uncle, Mr. Faulks. + +Next day the brief telegram announcing it was published in the morning +papers, with many strong comments. Although some blamed the young +officer for his rashness, and others held Lord Raglan directly +responsible for his loss, all agreed in execrating the vindictive +cruelty of the uncompromising foe. + +General sympathy was expressed for Mr. McKay; the most august person +in the land sent a message of condolence to his mother through Lord +Essendine, who added a few kindly words on his own account. + +"What curse lies heavy on our line? It seems fatal to come within +reach of heirship to the family-honours. Ere long there will be no +Wilders left, and the title of Essendine will become extinct," wrote +the old peer to Mrs. McKay. "Your boy, a fine, fearless young fellow, +whom I neglected too long and who deserved a nobler fate, is the +latest victim. Pray Heaven he may yet escape! I will strive hard to +help him in his present dire peril." + +Lord Essendine was as good as his word. He had great influence, +political and diplomatic: great friends in high place at every court +in Europe. Among others, the Russian ambassador at Vienna was under +personal obligations to him of long standing, and did not hesitate +when called upon to acknowledge the debt. + +Telegrams came and went from London to Vienna, from Vienna to St. +Petersburg, backwards and forwards day after day, yet nothing was +effected by Lord Essendine's anxious, energetic advocacy. The Czar +himself was appealed to, but the Autocrat of All the Russias would not +deign to intervene. He was inexorable. The law military must take its +course. Stanislas McKay was a traitor and the son of a traitor; he had +been actually taken red-handed in a new and still deeper treachery, +and he must suffer for his crime. + +At the end of the first fortnight McKay's relations and friends in +England had almost abandoned hope. This was what Mr. Faulks told Mrs. +Wilders, who called every day two or three times, always in the +deepest distress. + +"Poor boy! poor boy!" she said, wringing her hands. "To be cut off +like this! It is too terrible! And nothing--you are sure nothing can +be done to save him?" + +"Lord Essendine is making the most strenuous efforts; so are we. Even +Sir Humphrey Fothergill has been most kind; and the War Minister has +repeatedly telegraphed to Lord Raglan to leave no stone unturned." + +"And all without effect? It is most sad!" She would have feigned the +same excessive grief with the Essendine lawyers, to whom she also paid +several visits, but the senior partner's cold eye and cynical smile +checked her heroics. + +"You will not be the loser by poor McKay's removal," he said, with +brutal frankness, one day when she had rather overdone her part. + +"As if I thought of that!" she replied, with supreme indignation. + +"It is impossible for you not to think of it, my dear madam. It would +not be human nature. Why shouldn't you? Mr. McKay was no relation." + +"He was my dear dead husband's devoted friend. Nursed him after his +wound--" + +"I remember to have heard that, and indeed everything that is good, of +Mr. McKay. I feel sure he would have made an excellent Earl of +Essendine; more's the pity." + +"I trust my son, if he inherits, will worthily maintain the credit of +the house." + +"So do I, my dear madam," said old Mr. Burt, with a bow that made the +speech a less doubtful compliment. + +"When will it be settled? Why do they hesitate? Why delay?" she said +to herself passionately, as she went homewards to Thistle Grove. Her +friend Mr. Hobson was there, waiting for her; and she repeated the +question with a fierce anxiety that proved how closely it concerned +her. + +"How impatient you grow! Like every woman. Everything must be done at +once." + +"I am not safe yet. I begin to doubt." + +"Can't you trust me? I have assured you it will end as you wish. When +have I disappointed you, Lady Lydstone?" + +She started at the sound of this name, once familiar, but surrounded +now by memories at once painful and terrible. + +"It is the rule in your English peerage that when a son becomes a +great peer, and the mother is only a commoner, to give her one of the +titles. Your Queen does it by prerogative." + +"I might have been Lady Lydstone by right, if I had waited," she said +slowly. + +"And you repent it? Bah! it is too late. Be satisfied. You will be +rich, a great lady, respected--" + +She made a gesture of dissent. + +"Yes; respected. Great ladies always are. You can marry again--whom +you please; me, for instance--" + +Again the gesture: dissent mixed with unmistakable disgust. + +"You are not too flattering, Cyprienne. Do not presume on my +good-nature, and remember--" + +"What, pray?" + +"What you owe me. I am entitled to claim my reward. You must repay me +some day." + +"By marrying you?" + +Her voice, as usual, began to tremble when she found herself in +antagonism with this man. + +"If that be the price I ask. Why not? We ought to be happy together. +We have so much in common, so many secrets--" + +"Enough of this!" she said shortly, but not bravely. + +"And to be Lady Lydstone's husband would give me a certain status--a +sufficient income. I could help you to educate the boy, whom, +by-the-way, I have never seen. Yes; the notion pleases me. I will be +your second--I beg your pardon, your third husband, probably your +last." + +"I must beg of you, Hippolyte, to be careful; I hear some one coming." + +It was the Swiss butler, who entered rather timidly to say a gentleman +had called on important business. + +"What business? Surely you have not admitted him? If so, you shall +leave my service. You know it is contrary to my express orders." + +"He said you would see him, madam; that he came on the part of a +friend, a very ancient friend, whose name I had but to tell you--" + +"What name? Go on, François." + +"The name--it is difficult. Ru--" he spoke very slowly, struggling +with the strangeness of the sounds. "Ru--pert--Gas--" + +"Who can this be?" Mrs. Wilders had turned very white and now beckoned +Hobson to step out into the garden. "Is it a message from beyond the +grave?" + +"Coward!" cried her companion contemptuously. "The Seine seldom +surrenders its prey. Rupert Gascoigne is dead--drowned, as you know, +fourteen years ago." + +"But this visitor knew him--he knows of my connection with him. Else +why come in his name? Oh, Hippolyte, I tremble! Help me. Support me in +my interview with this strange man." + +"No; it would not be safe. If he knew Rupert Gascoigne, he may, too, +have known Ledantec. I will not meet him." + +"Who is the coward now?" + +"I do not choose to run unnecessary risks. But I will help you--to +this extent. See the man, if you must see him, in the double +drawing-room. I will be within call." + +"And earshot? I understand." + +"Well, what can I overhear--about you, at least--that I do not know +already? In any case I could help you." + +It was so arranged. Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the +stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room. + +"Mr. Hyde," she began, composedly and very stiffly, "may I inquire the +meaning of this intrusion? You are a perfect stranger--" + +"Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette. Have years so changed me--?" + +"Rupert? Impossible!" she half-shrieked. "Rupert is dead. He died--was +drowned--when--" + +"You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely +accused of a foul crime." + +"I cannot--will not believe it. You are an impostor; you have assumed +a dead man's name." + +"My identity is easily proved, Cyprienne Vergette, and the relation in +which I stand to you." + +"What brings you here to vex me, after all these years? I always hated +you. I left you--Why cannot you leave me in peace?" + +"God knows I had no wish to see or speak to you again. The world was +wide enough for us both. We should have remained for ever apart, but +for your latest and foulest crime." + +"What false, lying charge is this you would trump up against me?" + +"The murder of my dearest friend and comrade. Murder twice attempted. +The first failed; the second, I fear, will prove fatal. If so, look to +yourself, madam." + +"What can you do?" she said, impudently, having regained much of her +old effrontery. + +"Prevent you from reaping the fruits of your iniquity. You know you +were never General Wilders's wife; you were always mine. Worse luck!" + +"You cannot prove it. You are dead. You dare not reappear." + +"Wait and see," he replied, very coolly. + +"You have no proofs, I say, of the marriage." + +"They are safe at the Mairie, in Paris. French archives are carefully +kept. I have only to ask for a certificate; it's easy enough." + +"For any one who could go there. But how will you dare to show +yourself in Paris? You are proscribed; a price is set on your head. +Your life would be forfeited." + +"I will risk all that, and more, to ruin your wicked game." + +"Do so at your peril." + +"You threaten me, vile wretch? Be careful. The measure of your +iniquity is nearly full. Punishment must soon overtake you; your +misdeeds are well known; your complicity with--" + +Why should he tell her? Why warn her of the net that was closing round +her, and thus help her to escape from the toils? + +But she had caught at his words. + +"Complicity?" she repeated, anxiously. "With whom?" + +"No matter. Only look to yourself. It is war, war to the knife, +unquenchable war between us, remember that." + +And with these words he left the house. + +Although she had shown a bold front, Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still +call her, was greatly agitated by this stormy scene, and it was with a +blanched cheek and faltering step that she sought her confederate in +the next room. + +Mr. Hobson was gone. + +"Coward! he has easily taken alarm. To desert me at the moment that I +most need advice and help!" + +But she did her friend injustice, as a letter that came from him in +the course of a few hours fully proved. + +"I heard enough," wrote Mr. Hobson, "to satisfy me that the devil is +unchained and means mischief. I never thought to see R. G. again. We +must watch him now closely, and know all his movements. If he goes to +Paris, as I heard him threaten, he will give himself into our hands. I +shall follow, in spite of the risks I run. One word of warning to the +Prefecture will put the police on his track. Arrest, removal to Mazas, +Cayenne, or by the guillotine--what matter which?--will be his +inevitable fate. The French law is implacable. His _dossier_ (criminal +biography) is in the hands of the authorities, and will be easily +produced. There must be numbers of people still living in Paris who +could identify him at once, in spite of his beard and bronzed face. I +can, if need be, although I would rather not make myself too prominent +just now. Be tranquil; he will not be able to injure us. It is his own +doom that he is preparing." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN PARIS. + + +Years had passed since Hyde--he was Rupert Gascoigne then--had last +been in Paris. The memory of that last sojourn and the horrors of it +still clung to him--his arrest, unjust trial, escape. His bold leap +into the swift Seine, his rescue by a passing river steamer, on which, +thanks to a plausible tale, in which he explained away the slight +flesh-wound he had received from the gendarme's pistol, he found +employment as a stoker, and so got to Rouen, thence to Havre and the +sea. + +Willingly he would never have returned to the place where he had so +nearly fallen a victim. But he was impelled by a stern sense of duty; +he came now as an avenging spirit to unmask and punish those who had +plotted against him and his friend--unscrupulous miscreants who were a +curse to the world. + +He took up his quarters in a large new hotel upon the Boulevards. + +Paris had changed greatly in these years. The Second Empire, with its +swarm of hastily-enriched adventurers, had already done much to +beautify and improve the city. Life was more than ever gay in this the +chief home of pleasure-seekers. Luxury of the showiest kind everywhere +in the ascendant; smart equipages and gaily-dressed crowds, the +shop-fronts glittering with artistic treasures, everyone outwardly +happy, and leading a careless, joyous existence. + +Englishmen, officers especially, were just now welcome guests in +Paris. Mr. Hyde, of the Royal Picts, as he entered himself upon the +hotel register, with his soldierly air, his Crimean beard, and his arm +in a sling, attracted general attention. He was treated with +extraordinary politeness everywhere by the most polite people in the +world. When he asked a question a dozen answers were ready for him--a +dozen officious friends were prepared to escort him anywhere. + +But Rupert Hyde wanted no one to teach him his way about Paris. Within +an hour of his arrival, after he had hastily changed the garments he +had worn on the night journey, had sallied forth, and, entering the +long Rue Lafayette, made straight to the headquarters of the 21st +_arrondissement_. Urgent business of a public nature had brought him +to Paris, but this was a private matter which he desired to dispose of +before he attended to anything else. + +The place he sought was easily found. It was a plain gateway of +yellowish-white stone, over which hung a brand-new tricolour from a +flag-staff fixed at an angle, and on either side a striped sentry-box +containing a _Garde de Paris_. + +The gateway led into a courtyard, in which were half-a-dozen +loungers, clustered chiefly around the entrance to a handsome flight +of stone steps within the building. + +Just within this second entrance was a functionary, half beadle, half +hall-porter, wearing a low-crowned cocked hat and a suit of bright +blue cloth plentifully adorned with buttons, to whom Hyde addressed +himself. + +"The office of M. the Mayor, if you please." + +"Upstairs; take the first turn to the right, and then--" + +"But surely I know that voice!" said some one behind Hyde, who had +turned round quickly. + +"What, you!" went on the speaker; "my excellent English comrade--here +in Paris! Oh, joyful surprise!" + +"Is it you? M. Anatole Belhomme, of the Voltigeurs? You have left the +Crimea? Is Sebastopol taken? the Russians all massacred, then?" + +"It is I who was massacred--almost. I received a ball, here in my +leg, and was invalided last month. But you also have suffered, +comrade." And Anatole pointed to Hyde's arm in a sling. + +"Nothing much. Only the kick of a horse; it does not prevent me moving +about, as you see." + +"But what brings you to Paris, my good friend?" + +"I am seeking some family documents--to substantiate an inheritance. +They are here in the archives of the Mairie." + +"How? You were seeking the office of M. the Mayor? You?" And M. +Anatole proceeded to scrutinise Hyde slowly and minutely from head to +foot. "You, a veteran with your arm in a sling, and that brown +beard--brown mixed with grey. It is strange--most strange." + +"Well, comrade," replied Hyde, laughing a little uneasily, "you ought +to know me again." + +"Lose no time, friend, in getting what you want from the Mairie. Come: +I will go with you. Come: you may be prevented if you delay." + +These words aroused Hyde's suspicions. Had Cyprienne warned the French +police to be on the look-out for him? + +"But, Anatole, explain. Why do you lay such stress on this?" he asked. + +"Do as I tell you--first, the papers. I will explain by-and-by." + +There was no mistaking Anatole, and Hyde accordingly hastened +upstairs. Anatole indicated the door of an antechamber, which Hyde +entered alone. It was a large, bare room, with a long counter--inside +were a couple of desks, and at them sat several clerks--small people +wielding a very brief authority--who looked contemptuously at him over +their ledgers, and allowed him to stand there waiting without the +slightest acknowledgment of his existence for nearly a quarter of an +hour. + +"I have come for a certificated extract from the registers of a civil +marriage contracted here on the 27th April, 184--" he said, at length, +in a loud, indignant voice. + +The inquiry had the effect of an electrical shock. Two clerks at once +jumped from their stools; one went into an inner room, the other came +to the counter where Hyde stood. + +"Your name?" he asked, abruptly. "Your papers, domicile, place of +birth, age. The names of the parties to the contract of marriage." + +Hyde replied without hesitation, producing his passport, a new one +made out in the name of Hyde, describing his appearance, and setting +forth his condition as an officer in Her Britannic Majesty's Regiment +of Royal Picts. + +While he was thus engaged, an elderly, portly personage, wearing a +tricolour sash which was just visible under his waistcoat, came out +from the inner room, and, taking up the passport, looked at it, and +then at Hyde. + +"Is that your name? Yes? It is different," he went on, audibly, but to +himself, "although the description tallies. You are an English +officer, domiciled at the Hôtel Impérial, Boulevard de la Madeleine. I +do not quite understand." + +"Surely it is only a simple matter!" pleaded Hyde. "Monsieur, I seek a +marriage certificate." + +"For what purpose?" + +"As a claim for an inheritance." + +"Nothing more, eh!" said the Mayor, suspiciously. "Have you any one, +any friend, who will answer for you, here?" + +"No one nearer than the British Embassy, except--to be sure--" he +suddenly thought of Anatole, who still waited outside, and who came in +at the summons of his friend. + +"Oh, you are with Monsieur?" The official's face brightened the moment +he saw Anatole. "It is all right, then. Give the gentleman the +certificate. This friend"--he laid the slightest stress on the +word--"will be answerable for him, of course." + +"Now, Anatole, tell me what all this means," said Hyde, as he left the +Mairie with the document he deemed of so much importance in his +pocket. + +"Not here," said the Frenchman, looking over his shoulder, nervously. +"Let us go somewhere out of sight." + +"The nearest wine-shop--I have not breakfasted yet, have you? A bottle +of red seal would suit you, I dare say," said Hyde, remembering +Anatole's little weakness. + +"It is not to be refused. I am with you, comrade. At the sign of the +'Pinched Nose' we shall find the best of everything," replied Anatole, +heartily, and the pair passed into the street. + +It was barely a dozen yards to the wine-shop, and they walked there +arm-in-arm in boisterous good-fellowship, elbowing their way through +the crowd in a manner that was not exactly popular. + +"Take care, imbecile!" cried one hulking fellow whom Anatole had +shouldered off the path. + +"Make room, then," replied our friend, rudely. + +"Would you dare--" began the other, in a menacing voice, adding some +words in a lower tone. + +"Excuse. I was in the wrong," said Anatole, suddenly humbled. + +"You are right to avoid a quarrel," remarked Hyde, when they were +seated at table. He had been quietly amused at his companion's easy +surrender. + +"I could have eaten him raw. But why should I? He is, perhaps, a +father of a family--the support of a widowed mother: if I had +destroyed him they might have come to want. No; let him go." + +"All the same, he does not seem inclined to go. There he is, still +lurking about the front of the shop." + +"Truly? Where?" asked Anatole, in evident perturbation. "Bah! we will +tire him of that. By the time we have finished a second bottle--" + +"Or a third, if you will!" cried Hyde, cheerfully. + +They had their breakfast--the most savoury dishes; ham and sour crout, +tripe after the mode of Caen, rich ripe Roquefort cheese, and had +disposed of three bottles of a rather rough but potent red wine, +before Anatole would speak on any but the most common-place topics. The +Crimea, the dreadful winter, the punishment administered to their +common enemy, occupied him exclusively. + +But with the fourth bottle he became more communicative. + +"You owe a long candle to your saint for your luck to-day in meeting +me," he said, with a slight hiccup. + +"Ah! how so?" + +"Had not I been there to give you protection you would now be under +lock and key in the depôt of the Prefecture." + +Hyde, in spite of himself, shuddered as he thought of his last +detention in that unsavoury prison. + +"What, then, have you done, my English friend?" went on Anatole, with +drunken solemnity. "Why should the police seek your arrest?" + +"But do they? I cannot believe it." + +"It is as I tell you. I myself am in the 'cuisine' (the Prefecture). +Since my return from the war my illustrious services have been +rewarded by an appointment of great trust." + +"In other words, you are now a police-agent, and you were set to watch +for some one like me." + +"Why not you?" asked Anatole, trying, but in vain, to fix him with his +watery eyes. "In any case," he went on, "I wish to serve a comrade--at +risk to myself, perhaps." + +"You shall not suffer for it, never fear, in the long run. Count +always upon me." + +"They may say that I have betrayed my trust; that I put friendship +before duty. That has always been my error; I have too soft a heart." + +Anatole now began to cry with emotion at his own chivalrous +self-sacrifice, which changed quickly into bravado as he cried, +striking the table noisily-- + +"Who cares? I would save you from the Prefect himself." + +At this moment the big man who had been watching at the window +returned, accompanied by two others. He walked straight towards the +door of the wine-shop. + +"_Sacré bleu! le patron_ (chief). You are lost! Quick! take me by the +throat." + +Hyde jumped to his feet and promptly obeyed the curious command. + +"Now struggle; throw me to the ground, bolt through the back door," +whispered Anatole, hastily. + +All which Hyde executed promptly and punctiliously. Anatole suffered +him to do as he pleased, and Hyde escaped through the back entrance +just as the other policemen rushed in at the front. + +"After him! Run! Fifty francs to whoever stops him!" + +But Hyde had the heels of them. He ran out and through a little +courtyard at the back communicating with the street. There he found a +_fiacre_, into which he jumped, shouting to the cabman-- + +"Drive on straight ahead! A napoleon for yourself." + +In this way he distanced his pursuers, and half-an-hour later regained +his hotel by a long detour. + +Rather agitated and exhausted by the events of the morning, Hyde went +upstairs to his own room to rest and review his situation. + +"It is quite evident," he said to himself, "that Cyprienne has tried +to turn the tables on me. I was too open with her. It was incautious +of me to show my hand so soon. Of course the police have been set upon +me--the accused and still unjudged perpetrator of the crime in +Tinplate Street--by her. But has she acted alone in this? + +"I doubt it. I doubt whether she would have come to Paris with that +express purpose, or whether the police would have listened to her if +she had. + +"But who assisted her? Some one from whom she has no secrets. Were it +not that such a woman is likely to have set up the closest relations +with other miscreants in these past years, I should say that her agent +and accomplice was Ledantec. Ledantec is still alive; I know that, for +I saw him myself on the field of the Alma, rifling the dead. + +"Ledantec! We have an old score to settle, he and I. What if he +should be mixed up in this business that brings me to Paris? It is +quite likely. That would explain his presence in the Crimea, which +hitherto has seemed so strange. I never could believe that so daring +and unscrupulous a villain had degenerated into a camp-follower, +hungry for plunder gained in the basest way. It could not have been +merely to prey upon the dead that he followed in the wake of our army. +Far more likely that he was a secret agent of the enemy. If so then, +so still, most probably. What luck if these damaging clues that I hold +should lead me also to him! + +"But it is evident that I shall do very little if I continue to go +about as Rupert Hyde. The police are on the alert: my movements would +soon be interfered with, and, although I have no fear now of being +unable to prove my innocence, arrest and detention of any kind might +altogether spoil my game. + +"I must assume some disguise, and to protect myself and my case I will +do so with the full knowledge of the Embassy. It will do if I go there +within an hour. By this evening at latest the police will certainly be +here after Rupert Hyde." + +It must be mentioned here that the police of Paris are supposed to be +acquainted with the names of all visitors residing in the city. The +rule may be occasionally relaxed, as now, but under the despotism of +Napoleon III. it was enforced with a rigorous exactitude. + +Hyde had been barely half-a-dozen hours in Paris, but already his name +was inscribed upon the hotel-register awaiting the inspection of the +police, who would undoubtedly call that same day to note all new +arrivals. + +Before starting for the Embassy, Hyde sat down and wrote a couple of +rather lengthy letters, both for England, which he addressed, and +himself posted at the corner of the Rue Royale. + +Thence he went on, down the Faubourg St. Honoré, not many hundred +yards, and soon passed under the gateway ornamented with the arms of +Great Britain, and stood upon what, by international agreement, was +deemed a strip of British soil. + +He saw an _attaché_, to whom he quickly explained himself. + +"You wish to pursue the investigation yourself, I gather? Is it worth +while running such a risk? Why not hand over the whole business to the +Prefecture? I believe they have already put a watch upon the persons +suspected." + +"I have no confidence in their doing it as surely as I would myself." + +Hyde, it will be understood, had his own reasons for not wishing to +present himself at the Prefecture. + +"You propose to assume a disguise? As you please; but how can we help +you?" + +"By giving me papers in exchange for my passport, which you can hold, +and by sending after me if I do not reappear within two or three +days." + +"You anticipate trouble, then; danger, perhaps." + +"Not necessarily, but it is as well to take precautions." + +"Is there anything else?" + +"Yes; I should like to bring my disguise and put it on here. In the +porter's lodge, a back office--anywhere." + +The _attaché_ promised to get the ambassador's permission, which was +accorded in due course, and that same afternoon Hyde entered the +Embassy a well-dressed English gentleman, and came out an evil-looking +ruffian, wearing the blue blouse and high silk cap of the working +classes. One sleeve of the blouse hung loose across his chest, as +though he had lost his arm, but his injured limb was safe underneath +the garment. His beard was trimmed close, and on either side of his +forehead were two great curls, plastered flat on the temple, after the +fashion so popular with French roughs. + +In this attire he plunged into the lowest depths of the city. + +Amongst the papers seized at the Maltese baker's in Kadikoi were +several that gave an address in Paris. This place was referred to +constantly as the headquarters of the organisation which supplied the +Russian enemy with intelligence, and at which a certain mysterious +person--the leading spirit evidently of the whole nefarious +company--was to be found. + +"I'll find out all about him and his confederates before I'm many +hours older," said Hyde, confidently, as he presented himself at the +porter's lodge of a tall, six-storied house, of mean and forbidding +aspect, close to the Faubourg St. Martin. It was let out in small +lodgings to tenants as decayed and disreputable as their domicile. + +"M. Sabatier?" asked Hyde, boldly, of the porter. + +"On the fifth floor, the third door to the right," was the reply. + +Hyde mounted the stairs and knocked at the door indicated. + +"Well?" asked an old woman who opened it. + +"The patron--is he here? I must speak to him." + +"Who are you? What brings you?" The old woman still held the door +ajar, and denied him admission. + +"I have news from the Crimea--important news--from the Maltese." + +"Joe?" asked the old woman, still suspicious. + +Hyde nodded, and said sharply-- + +"Be quick! The patron must know at once. You will have to answer for +this delay." + +"He is absent--come again to-morrow," replied the old woman, sulkily. + +"It will be worse for him--for all of us--if he does not see me at +once." + +"I tell you he is absent. You must come again;" and with that the +woman shut the door in his face. + +What was Hyde to do now? Watch outside? That would hardly be safe. The +police, he knew, were on the look-out already, and they would be +suspicious of any one engaged in the same game. + +There was nothing for it but to take the old woman's reply for truth +and wait till the following day. Hyde knew his Paris well enough to +find a third-class hotel or lodging-house suitable for such a man as +he now seemed, and here, after wandering through the streets for +hours, dining at a low restaurant and visiting the gallery of a +theatre, he sought and easily obtained a bed. + +Next day he returned to the Faubourg St. Martin and was met with the +same answer. The patron was still absent. + +Hyde was beginning to despair; but he resolved to wait one more day, +intending, if still unsuccessful, to surrender the business to other +hands. + +But on the third day he was admitted. + +"The patron will see you," said the old woman, as she led him into a +small but well-lighted room communicating with another, into which she +passed, locking the door behind her. + +They kept him waiting ten minutes or more, during which he had an +uncomfortable feeling he was being watched, although he could not tell +exactly how or from where. + +There was really a small eye-hole in the wall opposite, of the kind +called in French a "Judas," and such as is used in prisons to observe +the inmates of the cells. Through this, Hyde had been subjected to a +long and patient examination. + +It was apparently satisfactory; for presently the inner door was +unlocked, and the old woman returned, followed by a man whom we have +seen before. + +It was Mr. Hobson in person; Ledantec really, as Hyde immediately saw, +in spite of the smug, smooth exterior, the British-cut whiskers, and +the unmistakable British garb. + +"Here is the patron," said the old woman; "tell him what you have to +say." + +Hyde, addressing himself to Mr. Hobson, began his story in the most +perfect French he could command. He spoke the language well, and had +no reason to fear that his accent would betray him. + +"The patron speaks no French," put in the old woman. "You ought to +know that. Tell me, and I will interpret." + +Mr. Hobson played his part closely, that was clear. A Frenchman by +birth, he could hardly be ignorant of or have forgotten his own +tongue. + +Hyde, following these instructions, told his story in the briefest +words. How Valetta Joe had been seized, his shop ransacked, and many +compromising papers brought to light. + +"Ask him how he knows this," said Mr. Hobson quietly. + +"My brother has written to me from the Crimea. He was in the camp when +the baker was seized." + +"What is his brother's name?" + +"Eugène Chabot, of the 39th Algerian battalion." + +This was a name given in the papers seized. + +"Was it he who gave this address? How did the fellow come here? Ask +him that." + +"Yes," Hyde said; he had learned the patron's address from his +brother, who had urged him to come and tell what had happened without +a moment's delay. + +Mr. Hobson, _alias_ Ledantec, had listened attentively to this +friendly message as it was interpreted to him bit by bit, but without +betraying the slightest concern. Suddenly he changed his demeanour. + +_"Ecoutez-moi!"_ he cried in excellent French, looking up and darting +a fierce look at the man in front of him. "Listen! You have played a +bold game and lost it. You did not hold a sufficiently strong hand." + +Hyde stood sullenly silent and unconcerned, but he felt he was +discovered. + +"In your charming and for the most part veracious story there is only +one slight mistake, my good friend." + +"I do not understand." + +"I will tell you. Eugène Chabot, your brother?--yes; your brother. +Well, he could not have written to you as you tell me--" + +"But I assure you--" + +"For the simple reason, that, just one week before the seizure of +Valetta Joe, Chabot was killed--in a sortie from the enemy's lines." + +"Impossible! I--" + +"Have been lying throughout and must take the consequences. You have +thrust your head into the lion's jaw. Hold!" + +Seeing that Hyde had thrust his one hand beneath his blouse, seeking, +no doubt, for some concealed weapon, Hobson suddenly struck a bell on +the table before him. + +Four men rushed in. + +"Seize him before he can use his arm! Seize him, and unmask him!" + +The ruffians, laying violent hands on Hyde, tore off his blouse and +dragged the wig with its elaborate curls from his head. In the +struggle he gave a sharp cry of pain. They had touched too roughly the +still helpless arm which hung in its sling beneath the blouse. + +"Ah! I knew I could not be mistaken. It is you, then, Rupert +Gascoigne! I thought I recognised you from the first, although it is +years and years since we met." + +"Not quite, villain! Cowardly traitor, murderer, despoiler of the +dead!" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"That I saw you at your craven work just after the Alma; you ought to +have been shot then. The world would have been well rid of a +miscreant." + +"Pretty language, truly, Mr. Gascoigne! I must strive to deserve it." + +"What are you going to do with me?" + +"I am not sure. Only do not hope for mercy. You know too much. I might +make away with you at once--" + +"But why spill blood?" he went on, musing aloud. "The guillotine will +do your business in due course if I hand you over to the law. That +will be best, safest; the most complete riddance, perhaps." + +There was a pause. + +"You see you are altogether in my power," said Ledantec, "either way. +But I am not unreasonable. I am prepared to spare you--for the +present," he said, with an evil smile--"only for the present, and +according as you may behave." + +"On what conditions will you spare me--for the present?" asked Hyde, +elated at the unexpected chance thus given him. + +"Tell me how you came to know of this address. Who sent you here?" + +"Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at Kadikoi." + +"Describe him to me," asked Ledantec, to try Hyde. + +Hyde had seen Joe more than once in his rides through the hut-town, +and his answer was perfectly satisfactory. + +"Did he send any message?" + +"Just what I have told you. I was to let you know of his arrest and of +the danger you would run." + +Ledantec was deceived by the straightforward and unhesitating way in +which Hyde told his story. + +"It may be so. At any rate, the warning must not be despised. Whether +or not you are to be trusted remains to be seen. But I will keep you +safe for a day or two longer and see what turns up. In any case you +cannot do much mischief to Cyprienne while shut fast here." + +"Cyprienne?" said Hyde, quite innocently. + +"I am quite aware of one reason that brought you to Paris, but, as I +have said, you cannot well execute your threats so long as we hold you +tight." + +Hyde shook his head as though these remarks were completely +unintelligible. But he laughed within himself at the thought that he +had already outwitted both Cyprienne and her accomplice, and that, +wherever he was, a prisoner or at large, events would work out her +discomfiture without him. + +He had no fears for himself. They had promised him at the British +Embassy that he should be sought out if he did not reappear within +three days. Besides, the French police had their eyes on the house. +The tables would presently be turned upon his captors in a way that +they little expected. + +When, therefore, he was led by Ledantec's orders into a little back +room dimly lighted by a window looking on to a blank wall, he went +like a lamb. But physically he was not particularly comfortable; there +were pleasanter ways of spending the day than tied hand and foot to +the legs of a bedstead, and Ledantec's farewell speech was calculated +to disturb his equanimity. + +"Don't make a sound or a move, mind. If you do--" and he produced a +glittering knife, with a look that could not be misunderstood. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SUSPENSE. + + +McKay must have slept for many hours. Daylight was fading, and the den +he occupied was nearly dark, when he was aroused by the voices of his +Russian fellow-lodgers coming off duty for the night. + +They were rough, simple fellows most of them: boorish peasants torn +from their village homes, and forced to fight in their Czar's quarrel, +which he was pleased to call a holy war. Coarse, uncultivated, but not +unkindly, and they gathered around McKay, staring curiously at him, +and plying him with questions. + +His command of their language soon established amicable relations, and +presently, when supper was ready, a nauseous mess of _kasha_, or thick +oatmeal porridge, boiled with salt pork, they hospitably invited him +to partake. He was a prisoner, but an honoured guest, and they freely +pressed their flasks of _vodkhi_ upon him when with great difficulty +he had swallowed a few spoonfulls of the black porridge. + +They talked, too, incessantly, notwithstanding their fatigue, always +on the same subject, this interminable siege. + +"It's weary work," said one. "I long for home." + +"They will never take the place; Father Todleben will see to that. Why +do they not go, and leave us in peace?" + +"It is killing work: in the batteries day and night; always in danger +under this hellish fire. This is the best place. You are better off, +comrade, than we" (this was to McKay); "for you are safe under cover +here, and in the open a man may be killed at any time." + +"He has dangers of his own to face," said the under-officer in charge +of the barrack, grimly. "Do not envy him till after to-morrow." + +McKay heard these words without emotion. He was too wretched, too much +dulled by misfortune and the misery of his present condition, to feel +fresh pain. + +Yet he slept again, and was in a dazed, half-stupid state when they +fetched him out next morning and marched him down to the water's edge, +where he was put into a man-of-war's boat and rowed across to the +north side of the harbour. + +Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian commander-in-chief, had sent for him, +and about noon he was taken before the great man, who had his +headquarters in the Star Fort, well out of reach of the besiegers' +fire. + +The Prince, a portly, imposing figure, of haughty demeanour, and +speaking imperiously, accosted McKay very curtly. + +"I know all about you. Whether you are spy or traitor matters little: +your life is forfeited. But I will spare it on one condition. Tell me +unreservedly what is going on in the enemy's lines." + +"I should indeed deserve your unjust epithets if I replied," was all +McKay's answer. + +"What reinforcements have reached the allies lately?" went on the +Prince, utterly ignoring McKay's refusal, and looking at him fiercely. +"Speak out at once." + +Our hero bore the gaze unflinchingly, and said nothing. + +"We know that the French Imperial Guard have arrived, and that many +new regiments have joined the English. Is an immediate attack +contemplated?" + +McKay was still silent. + +"Ill-conditioned, obstinate fool!" cried the Prince, angrily. "It is +your only chance. Speak, or prepare to die!" + +"You have no right to press me thus. I refuse distinctly to betray my +own side." + +"Your own side! You are a Russian--it is your duty to tell us. But I +will not bandy words with you. Let him be taken back to a place of +safety and await my orders." + +Once more McKay gave himself up for lost. When he regained the +wretched casemate that was his prison he hardly hoped to leave it, +except when summoned for execution. + +But that day passed without incident, a second also, and a third. +Still our hero found himself alive. + +Had they forgotten him? Or were they too busily engaged to attend to +so small a matter as sending him out of the world. + +The latter seemed most probable. Another bombardment, the most +incessant and terrible of any that preceded it, as McKay thought. +Although hidden away, so to speak, in the bowels of the earth, he +plainly heard the continuous cannonade, the roar of the round-shot, +the murderous music of the shells as they sang through the air, and +presently exploded with tremendous noise. + +He was to have a still livelier experience of the terrible mischief +caused by the ceaseless fire of his friends. + +Late in the afternoon of the fourth day he was called forth, always in +imminent peril of his life, and taken round the head of a harbour +which was filled with men-of-war, past the Creek Battery, and up into +the main town. They halted him at the door of a handsome building, +greatly dilapidated by round-shot and shell. This was the naval +library, the highest spot in Sebastopol, a centre and focus of danger, +but just now occupied by the chiefs of the Russian garrison. + +McKay waited, wondering what would happen to him, and in a few +minutes narrowly escaped death more than once. First a shell burst in +the street close to him, and two bystanders were struck down by the +fragments; then another shell struck a house opposite, and covered the +neighbouring space with splinters large and small; next a round-shot +tore down the thoroughfare, carrying everything before it. + +It was no safer inside than out. Yet McKay was glad when they marched +him in before the generals, who were seated at the open window of the +topmost look-out, scanning the besiegers' operations with their +telescopes. + +"What is the meaning of this fire? Have you any idea?" It was Todleben +who asked the question. "Does it prelude a general attack?" + +"I cannot tell you," replied McKay. + +"Was there no talk in the enemy's lines of an expected assault?" asked +another. + +"I do not know." + +"You must know. You are on the headquarter-staff of the British army." + +"Who told you so? You have always denied my claim to be treated as an +English officer." + +"Because you are a traitor to your own country. But it is as I say. We +know as a fact that you belong to Lord Raglan's staff; how we know it +you need not ask." + +The fact was, of course, made patent by the English +commander-in-chief, in his repeated attempts to secure McKay's +release and exchange. But the prisoner had been told nothing of these +efforts, or of the peremptory refusal that had met Lord Raglan's +demands. + +"I told you it would be no use," interrupted a third. "He is as +obstinate as a mule." + +"Stay! what is that?" cried Todleben, suddenly. "Over there, in the +direction of the Green Mamelon." + +Three rockets were seen to shoot up into the evening sky. + +"It is some signal," said another. "Yes; heavy columns are beginning +to climb the slopes away there to our left." + +"And the British troops are collecting in front of the Quarries." + +At this moment the besiegers' fire, which had slackened perceptibly, +was re-opened with redoubled strength. + +"Let everyone return to his station without delay," said Todleben, +briefly. "A serious crisis is at hand. The attack points to the +Malakoff, which, as you all know, is the key of our position." + +"Hush!" said one of the other generals, pointing to McKay. + +"What matter?" replied Todleben. "He can hardly hope to pass on the +intelligence." + +But the words were not lost upon our hero, although he had but little +time then to consider their deep meaning. + +"What shall we do with the prisoner?" asked his escort. + +"Take him back to his place of confinement." + +McKay's heart was lighter that evening than it had been at any time +since his capture. He remembered now that this was the 7th of June, +the day settled for the night attack upon the Mamelon and Quarries, +and he hoped that if these succeeded, as they must, they would +probably be followed by a further assault upon the principal inner +defences of the town. + +He spent the evening and the greater part of the night in the deepest +agitation, hoping hourly, momentarily, for deliverance. + +None came, no news even; but that the struggle was being fought out +strenuously he knew from the absence of the men that occupied his +casemate, all of whom were doubtless engaged. But towards daylight one +or two dropped in who had been wounded and forced to retire from the +batteries. From them he learnt something of what had occurred. + +The French had stormed the works on the left of the Russian front, and +had carried them once, twice, three times. The Russians had returned +again and again to recover their lost redoubts, but had been obliged +to surrender them in the end. + +In the same way the English had attacked the ambuscades--what we call +the Quarries--and between night and dawn the Russians had made four +separate attempts to recover what had been lost at the first +onslaught. + +"And now it is over?" + +"No one can say. We have suffered fearfully; we are almost broken +down. If the enemy presses we shall have to give up the town." + +"Pray God they may come on!" cried McKay, counting the moments till +relief came. + +But bitter disappointment was again his portion. The day grew on, and, +instead of renewed firing, perfect quiet supervened. There was a +truce, he was told, on both sides, to bury the dead. + +Now followed several dreary days, when hope had sunk again to its +lowest ebb, and all his worst apprehensions revived. It was like a +living death; he was a close prisoner, and never a word reached him +that any of his friends were concerning themselves with his miserable +fate. + +Again there came a glimpse of hope. Surely there was good cause: in +the renewal of the bombardment, which, after an interval of a few +days, revived with yet fiercer intention and unwavering persistence. + +Surely this meant another--possibly the final--and supreme attack? + +The firing continued without intermission for four days. It was +increased and intensified by an attack of the allied fleet upon the +seaward batteries. This new bombardment made itself evident from the +direction of the sounds, and the merciless execution of the fiery +rockets that fell raging into the town. + +At length, in the dead of night, McKay was aroused from fitful sleep +by the beating of drums and trumpets sounding the assembly. + +It was a general alarm. Troops were heard hurrying to their stations +from all directions, and in the midst of it all was heard--for a +moment there had been a lull in the cannonade--a sharp, long-sustained +sound of musketry fire. + +Evidently an attack, but on what points it was made, and how it fared, +McKay at first could have no idea. But, as he listened anxiously to +the sounds of conflict, it was clear that the tide of battle was +raging nearer to him now than on any previous occasion. + +He waited anxiously, his heart beating faster and faster, as each +minute the firing grew nearer and nearer. He was in ignorance of the +exact nature of the attack until, as on the last occasion, the Russian +soldiers came back by twos and threes and re-entered the casemate. + +"What is going on in the front?" McKay asked. + +"The enemy are advancing up the ravine. We have been driven out of the +cemetery, and I doubt whether we shall hold our ground." + +"They are coming on in thousands!" cried a new arrival. "This place is +not safe. Let us fall back to the Karabel barrack." + +"You had better come too," said one soldier thoughtfully to McKay, as +he gathered up the long skirts of his grey great-coat to allow of more +expeditious retreat. + +"All right," said McKay, "I will follow." + +And taking advantage of the confusion, during which the sentries on +the casemate had withdrawn, he left his prison-chamber and got out +into the main road. + +The fusilade was now close at hand; bullets whistled continually +around and pinged with a dull thud as they flattened against the rocky +ground. + +The assailants were making good progress. McKay, as he crouched below +a wall on the side of the road, could hear the glad shouts of his +comrades as, with short determined rushes, they charged forward from +point to point. + +His situation was one of imminent peril truly, for he was between two +fires. But what did he care? Only a few minutes more, if he could but +lie close, and he would be once more surrounded by his own men. + +While he waited the dawn broke, and he could watch for himself the +progress the assailants made. They were now climbing along the slopes +of the ravine on both sides of the harbour, occupying house after +house, and maintaining a hot fire on the retreating foe. It was +exciting, maddening; in his eagerness McKay was tempted to emerge from +his shelter and wave encouragement to his comrades. + +Unhappily for him, the gesture was misunderstood. The crack of +half-a-dozen rifles responded promptly, and a couple of them took +fatal effect. Poor Stanislas fell, badly wounded, with one bullet in +his arm and another in his leg. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN. + + +McKay lay where he fell, and it was perhaps well for him that he was +prostrate. The attacking parties soon desisted from firing, and +charged forward at racing-pace, driving all who stood before them at +the point of the bayonet. They swept over and past McKay, trampling +him under foot in their hot haste to demolish the foe. + +But the wave of the advance left McKay behind it, and well within the +shelter of his own people. + +Although badly wounded, he was not disabled, and he took advantage of +the first pause in the fight to appeal for help to some men of the +38th who occupied the wall behind which he fell. + +"You speak English gallows well for a Rooskie," said one of the men, +brusquely, but not without sympathy. "What do you want? Water? Are you +badly hit?" + +"A bullet in my leg and a flesh-wound in my arm." + +"Hold hard! Sawbones will be up soon. Meanwhile, let's try and staunch +the blood. We'll tear up your shirt for a bandage." + +And with rough but real kindness he tore open McKay's old _greggo_ so +as to get at his underlinen. This action betrayed the red cloth +waistcoat he still wore. + +"Why, that's an English staff waistcoat. Quick! How did you come by +it, you murdering rogue?" + +"I am a staff officer." + +"You! What do you call yourself?" + +"Mr. McKay, of the Royal Picts: deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general +at headquarters." + +"Save us alive! This bangs Bannagher. Wait, honey--wait till I call an +officer." + +Presently, when the wounds had been rudely but effectively bound up, a +captain of the 38th came up, and to him McKay made himself known. + +"This is no time or place to ask how you came here. Taken prisoner, I +suppose?" + +"Who are you? What force?" + +"Eyre's Brigade: of the Third Division. Told off to attack the Creek +Battery. We have carried the cemetery, but what else we've done I have +not the least idea." + +"Haven't you? Well, I'll tell you. You've taken Sebastopol." + +"Not quite, I'm afraid." + +"You're well inside the fortress anyway. I can tell you that for +certain. Just above is the place in which I was kept a prisoner." + +"Is that a fact? By Jove! what tremendous luck!" + +"But can you hold your ground?" + +"Eyre will. He'll hold on by his eyelids till reinforcements come up, +never fear. And the French have promised us support." + +"Is yours the only attack?" + +"Dear no! The French have gone in at the Malakoff, and our people at +the Redan." + +"How has it gone--have you any idea?" asked McKay, anxiously. + +"No one knows, except the general, perhaps. Here he comes; and he +don't look over pleased." + +General Eyre, a tall, fierce-looking soldier, strode up with a long +step, talking excitedly to a staff-officer, whom McKay recognised as +one of Lord Raglan's aides-de-camps. + +"Hold our ground!" the general was saying. "Of course we will, to the +last. But if the French could only come up in force we might still +retrieve the day. You see we are well inside, though I cannot say +exactly where." + +At this moment the officer who had been speaking to McKay touched his +hat and said to the general-- + +"There is some one here who can tell you, I think, sir." + +"Who is that? A prisoner?" + +"One of our own people. McKay, of the headquarter staff. A man whom +the Russians took, and whom we have just recovered." + +"McKay!" cried the aide-de-camp, joyfully. "Where is he?" + +Our hero was speedily surrounded by a group of sympathetic friends, to +whom he gave a short account of himself. Then he briefly explained to +the general the position in which they were. + +"It is as I thought," said the general. "We have pierced the Russian +works above the man-of-war harbour, and, if reinforced promptly, can +take the whole of the line in reverse. Will you let Lord Raglan know? +and the attack might then be renewed on this side." + +"I fear there is no hope of that," said the aide-de-camp, gloomily. + +"Have we failed, then?" asked McKay. + +His friend shook his head. + +"Completely. I cannot tell why exactly, but I know that part of the +French started prematurely. There was some mistake about the +signal-rocket. This gave the alarm to the whole garrison." + +"Yes; I heard them turning out in the middle of the night." + +"And the consequence was they were ready for us at all points. Our +attacking parties at the Redan were met with a tremendous fire, and +literally mowed down. Our losses have been frightful. All the +generals--Sir John Campbell, Lacy, yea, and Shadford--are killed, and +ever so many more. It's quite heartbreaking." + +"And will nothing more be tried to-day?" + +"I fear not, although Lord Raglan is quite ready; but the French are +very dispirited. Goodness knows how it will end! The only slice of +luck is Eyre's getting in here; but I doubt if he can remain." + +"Why not?" + +"The enemy's fire is too galling, and it appears to be on the +increase." + +"I fancy they are bringing the ships' broadsides to bear." + +"Yes, and we are bound to suffer severely. But you, McKay; I see you +are wounded. We must try and get you to the rear." + +"Never mind me," said McKay, pluckily; "I will take my chance and wait +my turn." + +The chance did not come for many hours. Eyre's brigade continued to be +terribly harassed; they were not strong enough to advance, yet they +stoutly refused to retire. The enemy's fire continued to deal havoc +amongst them; many officers and men were struck down; General Eyre +himself was wounded severely in the head. + +All this time they waited anxiously for support, but none appeared. At +length, as night fell, Colonel Adams, who had succeeded Eyre in the +command, reluctantly decided to fall back. + +The retreat was carried out slowly and in perfect order, without +molestation from the enemy. Now at last the wounded were removed on +stretchers as carefully and tenderly as was possible. + +McKay's hurts had been seen to early in the day. He was placed as far +as possible out of fire, and his strength maintained by such +stimulants as were available. + +While the excitement lasted his pluck and endurance held out. But +there was a gradual falling-off of fire as the night advanced, and the +pains of his wounds increased. He suffered terribly from the motion as +he was borne back to camp, and when at last they reached the shelter +of a hospital-tent in the Third Division camp he was in a very bad +way: fits of wild delirium alternated with death-like insensibility. + +But he was once more amongst his friends. Next morning Lord Raglan, +notwithstanding his heavy cares and preoccupation, sent over to +inquire after him. + +Many of the headquarter-staff came too, and Colonel Blythe was +constantly at his bedside. + +On the second day the bullet was removed from the leg, and from that +moment the symptoms became more favourable. Fever abated, and the +wounds looked as though they would heal "at the first intention." + +"He will do well enough now," said the doctor in charge of the case; +"but he will want careful nursing--better, I fear, than he can get in +camp." + +"Why not send him on board a hospital ship? Could he bear the journey +to Balaclava?" + +"Undoubtedly. I was going to suggest it." + +"There is the _Burlington Castle_, his own uncle's ship: she is +now fitted up as a hospital, with nurses and every appliance. He will +soon get well on board her." + +There were other and still more potent aids to convalescence on board +the _Burlington Castle_. A band of devoted female nurses tended the +sick; and amongst them, demurely clad in a black dress, her now sad +white face half hidden under an immense coif, was one who answered to +the name of Miss Hidalgo. + +It was Mariquita, placed there by the kindness of the military +authorities, anxious to make all the return possible by helping in the +good work. The relationship of the captain to Stanislas was remembered +by Colonel Blythe, and the _Burlington Castle_ seemed the fittest +place to receive the poor girl. + +Good Captain Faulks had been taken into the secret. + +"Poor child!" he had said. "I will watch over her for dear Stanny's +sake. I was fond of that lad, and she shall be like a daughter to me." + +At first she seemed quite dazed and stupefied by her grief. She gave +up her lover as utterly lost, and would not listen to the consolation +and encouragement offered. + +"He'll turn up, my dear," said Captain Faulks; "you'll see. He was +not saved from drowning to die by a Russian rope. Wait; he'll weather +the storm." + +Mariquita would shake her head hopelessly and go about her appointed +task with an unflagging but despairing diligence that was touching to +see. + +Uncle Barto, as he always wished her to call him, was the first to +tell her the good news. + +"He's found, my dear. What did I tell you? They couldn't keep him; I +knew that." + +"The Holy Virgin be praised!" cried Mariquita. "But is he +well--uninjured? When shall we see him?" + +"Soon, my dear, soon. He will be brought--I mean he will come on board +in a few days now." + +A simple pressure of the hand, a half-whispered exclamation of joy in +her own fluent Spanish, was the only greeting that Mariquita gave her +wounded lover when they lifted him on to the deck of the +hospital-ship. But the vivid blush that mantled in her cheek, and the +glad light that came into her splendid eyes, showed how much she had +suffered, and how great was her emotion at this moment of trial. + +As for Stanislas, he was nearly speechless with surprise. + +"You here, Mariquita! What strange adventure is this? Tell me at +once--" + +"No, no," interposed the doctor; "it is a long story. You are tired +now, and will have plenty of time to hear from Miss Hidalgo all about +herself." + +It was the telling of this story as she sat by the side of his couch, +hand locked in hand, and he learnt by degrees the full measure of her +self-sacrificing devotion, that did McKay so much good. It braced and +strengthened him, giving him a new and stronger desire to live and +enjoy the unspeakable blessing of this true woman's love. + +They would have been altogether happy, these long days of +convalescence, but for his enforced absence from his duties, and the +distressing news that came from the front. + +Lord Raglan had never recovered from the disappointment of the 18th of +June. The failure of the attack, and the loss of many personal +friends, preyed upon his spirits, and he suddenly became seriously +ill. He never rallied, sank rapidly, and died in a couple of days, to +the great grief of the whole army. + +No one felt it more than McKay, to whom the sad news was broken by his +old chief. + +"It is very painful to think," said Sir Richard Airey, "that he passed +away at the moment of failure; that he was not spared to see the +fortress fall--for it must fall." + +"Of course it must, sir," said McKay. "This last attack ought to have +succeeded. The Russians were in sore straits." + +"It was the French who spoiled everything by their premature advance. +I knew we could do nothing until they had taken the Malakoff. That is +the key of the position." + +"You are right, sir. I myself heard Todleben say those very words." + +"Did you? That is important intelligence. It must not be forgotten +when the time comes to organise a fresh attack." + +"I shall be well then, I hope, sir, and able to go in with the first +column. I think I could show the way." + +"At any rate you can say more than most of us, for you have been +actually inside the place." + +"And shall be again, if you will only wait another month!" cried +McKay. + +But the doctors laughed at him when he talked like this. + +"You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for three months +or more, and then you must make up your mind to crutches for another +six." + +"I shall not see the next attack, then?" + +"No; but you will see England before many weeks are gone. We are going +to send you home at once." + +"But I had much rather not go--" began McKay. + +"It's no use talking; everything is settled." + +And so it came to pass. The good ship _Burlington Castle_, Bartholomew +Faulks, master, having filled up its complement of invalids and +wounded men, including Captain Stanislas McKay, steamed westward about +the middle of July. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN LINCOLN'S INN. + + +Ledantec, _alias_ Hobson, had at once reported progress to Mrs. +Wilders. The day after his arrival in Paris she had heard from him. He +wrote-- + +"Have no fears. The police are on his track. They have his exact +description, and are watching at the Mairie. Directly he shows himself +he will be arrested as Rupert Gascoigne, tried, condemned. They do +these things well in France. You will never hear of him again." + +There was much to quiet and console her in these words. After the +dreadful surprise of Rupert's reappearance she had been a prey to the +keenest anxiety. The whole edifice, built up with such patient, +unscrupulous effort, had threatened to crumble away. Bitter +disappointment seemed inevitable just when her highest hopes were +nearest fulfilment. + +But now, thanks to her unscrupulous confederate, the staunch friend +who had stood by her so often before, the last and worst difficulty +was removed, and everything would be well. + +Another day passed without further intelligence from Paris, but +Ledantec's silence aroused no fresh apprehensions. Doubtless there was +nothing special to tell; matters were progressing favourably, of +course; until her husband was actually arrested, she could expect to +hear nothing more. + +On the evening of the third day, however--that, in fact, following +Gascoigne's visit to the Mairie--she had a short letter from Lincoln's +Inn. Lord Essendine's lawyers wrote her, begging she would call on +them early next day, as they had an important communication to make to +her. His lordship himself would be present, and their noble client had +suggested, if that would suit her, an appointment for twelve noon. + +"At last! They mean to do the right thing at last," she said, +exultingly. "The proud old man is humbled; he fears the extinction of +his ancient line, and must make overtures now to me. My boy is the +heir; they cannot resist his rights; his claim is undeniable. He shall +be amply provided for; I shall insist on the most liberal terms." + +Fully satisfied of the cause of her summons to Lincoln's Inn, Mrs. +Wilders presented herself punctually at twelve. Although she still +schooled her face to sorrowful commiseration with the old peer whom +fate had so sorely stricken, the elation she felt was manifest in her +proud, arrogant carriage, and the triumphant glitter of her bold brown +eyes. + +Lord Essendine was with the senior partner, Mr. Burt, when she was +shown in; and although he arose stiffly, but courteously, from his +seat, did not take her outstretched hand, while his greeting was cold +and formal in the extreme. + +There was a long pause, and, as neither of the gentlemen spoke, Mrs. +Wilders began. + +"You sent for me, my lord--" + +His lordship waved his hand toward Mr. Burt, as though she must +address herself to the old lawyer. + +"Mrs. Wilders," said Mr. Burt, gravely and with great +deliberation--"Mrs. Wilders, if that indeed be your correct +appellation--" + +And the doubt thus implied, reviving her worst fears, sent a cold +shock to her heart. + +But she was outwardly brave. + +"How dare you!" she cried with indignant defiance in her tone. "Have +you only brought me here to insult me? I appeal to your lordship. Is +this the treatment I am to expect? I, your cousin's widow--" + +"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyer. "To be a widow it is first +necessary to have been a wife." + +"Do you presume to say I was not General Wilders's wife?" she asked +hotly. + +"Not his lawful wife. Stay, madam," he said, seeing Mrs. Wilders half +rise from her chair. "You must hear me out. We have evidence, the +clearest seemingly; disprove it if you can." + +"What evidence?" + +"The certificate of your other marriage. It is here." + +"How came you by it?" she inquired eagerly. + +"No matter, it is all in proper form; you could not contest it, +understand." + +"Well? I never pretended when I gave my hand to Colonel Wilders that I +had not been married before. He was well aware of it." + +"But not that your first husband was alive at the time." + +"It is false! He was dead--drowned; he drowned himself in the Seine." + +"Your first husband is alive still, and you know it. You have seen him +yourself within these last few days. He is ready to come forward at +any time. It is he in fact who has furnished us with these proofs." + +"I shall protest, dispute, contest this to the uttermost. It is a +base, discreditable plot against a weak, helpless, defenceless woman," +said Mrs. Wilders with effrontery; but despair was in her heart. + +How Ledantec has deceived her! + +"Is that all you have to say to me?" she went on at length after +another pause. "You, Lord Essendine--my husband's relative and friend, +one of the richest and proudest men in this purse-proud land--how +chivalrous, how brave of you, to bring me here to load me with vile +aspersions, to rob me of my character; my child, my little friendless +orphan boy, of the inheritance which is his by right of birth!" + +"Do not let us get into recriminations, madam," said Lord Essendine, +speaking for the first time. "It is to speak of your boy, mainly, that +I wished for this interview." + +"Poor child!" + +"Whatever blot may stain his birth, I cannot forget that he has +Wilders's blood in his veins. He is Cousin Bill's son still." + +"You admit so much? Many thanks," she sneered. "And since these heavy +blows have struck us, blow after blow, he is the sole survivor of the +house. I am willing--nay, anxious--to recognise him." + +"Indeed! How truly generous of you!" There was no telling whether the +speech was genuine, or another sneer. + +"He cannot bear the title, but I can make him my heir. He may succeed +to the position in due course--I hardly care how soon." + +"Are you mocking me, Lord Essendine?" + +"I am in sober earnest. I will do what I say, but only on one +condition." + +"And that is?" + +"That you give up the child, absolutely, and forever." + +"What! part with the only thing left me to love and cherish--" + +"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyers "before your emotion +overpowers you. We happen to be able to judge of the extent of your +affection for your only son." + +"How so?" + +"We know you care so little for him that for month, you never see the +child. It was left in England when you went to the Crimea--" + +"With my husband. Besides, I could not have made a nursery of Lord +Lydstone's yacht." + +"And since you settled in London you have sent it to a nurse in the +country." + +"It was better for the child." + +"No doubt you know best. However, this discussion is unnecessary. Will +you comply with his lordship's conditions, and part with the child?" + +"Never!" + +"Remember, the offer will not be renewed." + +"And what, pray, would become of me? You deprive me of +everything--present joy in my offspring, his affection in coming +years. I shall be alone, friendless--a beggar, perhaps." + +"As to that, you must trust to his lordship's generosity." + +"Little as you deserve it," added Lord Essendine, meaningfully. + +She turned on him at once. + +"Of what do you accuse me?" + +"Of much that I forbear to repeat now. But I will spare you--I will +leave you to your own conscience and--" + +"What else, pray?" + +"The law. It may seize you yet, madam, and it has a tight grip." + +"I shall not remain here to be so grossly insulted. If you have +anything more to say to me, my lord, you must write." + +"And you refuse to give up the child?" + +"You had better put your proposals on paper, Lord Essendine. I may +consider them in my child's interests, although the separation would +be almost too bitter to bear. I may add, however, that I will consent +to nothing that does not include some settlement on myself--" + +"As to that," said the lawyer, "his lordship declines to bind +himself--is it not so, my lord?" + +"Quite; I will make no promises. But she will not find me ungenerous +if she will accept my terms." + +And so the interview ended. There was no further reference made to the +unpleasant facts now brought to light by the letter and documents sent +over by Hyde. Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still call her, knew that she +could not dispute them; that any protest in the shape of law +proceedings would only make more public her own shame and +discomfiture. But if she was beaten she would not confess it yet; and +at least she was resolved that the enemy who had so ruthlessly +betrayed her should not enjoy his triumph. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +HUSBAND AND WIFE. + + +Mrs. Wilders's first and only idea after she left Lincoln's Inn was to +get to Paris as soon as she could. She no longer counted on much +assistance from Ledantec, nor, indeed, had she much belief in him now; +but she yet hoped he might help her to obtain revenge. Whatever it +cost her, Rupert Gascoigne must pay the penalty of thwarting her when +she seemed on the very threshold of success. + +Having desired her maid to pack a few things, she hastily realised all +the money she had at command and started by the night-mail for Paris. + +Paris! Like the husband she had wronged and deserted, she had not +visited the gay city for years. Not since she had thrown in her lot +with an unspeakable villain, joining and abetting him in a vile plot +against the man to whom she was bound by the strongest ties in +life--by loyalty, affection, honour, truth. + +"I hate going back there," she told herself, as the Calais express +whirled her through Abbeville, Amiens, Creil. "Hate it, dread it, more +than I can say." + +And this repugnance might be interpreted into some glimmering remnant +of good feeling were it not due to vague fears of impending evil +rather than to shame and remorse. + +She was landed at an early hour at the hotel she resolved to +patronise: a quiet, old-fashioned house in the best part of the Rue de +Rivoli, overlooking the gardens of the Tuileries. + +She was shown to a room, and proceeded at once to correct the ravages +of the night journey. A handsome woman still, but vain, like all her +sex, and anxious to look her best on every occasion. + +Hastily swallowing a cup of coffee, as soon as her toilette was +completed she issued forth and took the first cab she could find. + +"To the Porte St. Martin," she said; "lose no time." + +Arrived there, she alighted, dismissed the cab, and proceeded on foot +to the Faubourg St. Martin, to the house we have visited already, and +in which our friend Hyde was still a prisoner. + +Simply mentioning her name, she passed by the porter with the air of +one who knew her road, although it was probably the first time she had +come there. On the sixth floor she knocked as Hyde had done, and was +admitted much as he had been. + +There was no disguise about her, however, and she sent in her name as +"Mrs. Wilders, just arrived from England, and most anxious to see Mr. +Hobson." + +"You, Cyprienne!" said the man we know, who answered to the names of +both Hobson and Ledantec. "In Paris! This was quite unnecessary. I am +arranging everything. You had my letter?" + +"Pshaw! Hippolyte, you can't befool me." + +"Why this tone? I tell you I have done everything." + +"You may think so, but in the meantime Rupert has stolen a march on +me. He has got the papers--" + +"Impossible!" + +"It is so. Got them, and placed them, with a full statement, in Lord +Essendine's hands." + +"How do you know this?" + +"From Lord Essendine's own lips?" + +"How can he have done this? He--a prisoner." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"He is fast by the leg. Come and see him. He is in the next room." + +"Here? In our power?" + +"Yes: let us go and see him at once." + +There was a fierce gleam in her eyes, as though she wished to stab +him, wherever she found him, to the heart. + +Hyde was where we had left him, still bound hand and foot to the +bedstead. He had spent a miserable night, he was stiff and sore from +his strange position, and they had given him little or no food. But +his manner was defiant, and his air exulting, as he saw Ledantec and +Cyprienne approach. + +"Have you come to release me? It's about time. You will gain nothing +by keeping me here." + +"Dog! I hate you!" cried Mrs. Wilders, as she struck him a cruel, +cowardly blow on the face. + +"A pleasant greeting from the woman I made my wife." + +"Would that fate had never thrown us together; that I had never heard +your name!" + +"No one can wish it more sincerely than myself," replied Gascoigne. +"It was you who wrecked and ruined my life." + +"And what have you done to me, Rupert Gascoigne? Could you not leave +me in peace? Why follow me to persecute me, to rob me and my son--" + +"Of the proceeds of your infamy?" interrupted Gascoigne, or Hyde, as I +prefer to call him; "I will tell you. Because you dared to plot +against a man I esteem. Whatever has happened to Stanislas McKay, he +owes it, I feel confident, to you. I may never see him again--" + +"You never will, and for a double reason. Do not hope, Rupert +Gascoigne, to leave this place again." + +And she looked capable of taking his life then and there. + +"Come, come! Cyprienne; you are going too far. Mr. Gascoigne has not +behaved very well, perhaps, but it is not for us to call him to +account. We will leave him to the myrmidons of the law. He is wanted, +we know, by the police." + +"Am I?" said Hyde, mockingly; "so are others, as you will find. At +this moment the house is surrounded. The authorities have long had +their eye on Hippolyte Ledantec, _alias_ Hobson, the Russian spy." + +The confederates looked at each other uneasily, and Ledantec said-- + +"It can hardly be so. But it will be well to ascertain and take +precautions. Come! there is a way out of this house known only to me." + +And, so saying, he went towards the door, followed by Mrs. Wilders. +Suddenly he paused, surprised by a loud knocking outside. + +They heard the old woman's voice angrily asking who was there; they +heard the reply, spoken loudly and authoritatively. + +"The police! Open, in the name of the law. Open! or we shall break the +door down." + +Next minute the apartment was invaded by a _posse_ of police, all of +whom were drawn to where Hyde was by his loud cries of "Here! Here!" + +"Let no one move," said the chief of the police, briefly. "What is the +meaning of this? Who are you?" This was to Ledantec. + +"My name is Mr. Hobson, a British subject, and member of the press. I +shall require you to explain this intrusion." + +"His real name is Ledantec!" cried Hyde, interposing. "Ex-gambler, and +now spy in the pay of the Russians. This woman is his accomplice." + +"And who may you be?" said the police-officer, turning to Hyde. + +"I know this gentleman," put in the _attaché_ whom Hyde had seen at +the Embassy. "He is a British officer--Mr. Hyde." + +"I know better!" cried Ledantec, with a scornful laugh. "I denounce +him as Rupert Gascoigne, the perpetrator of the murder in Tinplate +Street, fifteen years ago. The case cannot yet be forgotten at the +Prefecture." + +"Is it possible?" said the chief of the police, looking curiously at +Hyde. "Surely I should recognise you. I was one of those from whom you +escaped by jumping into the Seine." + +"I do not deny that I am the man," replied Hyde, calmly. "But I am +innocent, and only ask a fair trial." + +"We must arrest you, anyway. Keep what you have to say for the judge. +Come! bring them along; it's altogether a fine morning's work." + +And within an hour Hyde found himself in his old quarters--a separate +cell of the depôt of the Prefecture. The other prisoners were lodged +there also, but apart from him and each other. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SCALES REMOVED. + + +The capture made by the police in the Faubourg St. Martin was kept +secret. Under the Second Empire nothing was published except with the +permission of the authorities, and they had their reasons for not +talking too openly of Hyde's arrest. He was a British subject, a +military officer moreover, and these were claims to the consideration +of French justice that would not have been so readily recognised +fifteen years before. + +It was, of course, inevitable that the affair of Tinplate Street +should be re-opened. But a new complexion was given to it by the +recent arrests. Hyde had been interrogated at once by the magistrate +who had examined him before; the same man, but so different; no +longer insolently positive and threatening unjustly, but bland, +considerate, obliging. The fact was he had had a hint from his +superiors to treat the Englishman gently. + +"The truth must come out now," Hyde had said, when asked if he +remembered the circumstances of his former arrest. "You have the real +culprit in custody." + +"This Ledantec, I suppose?" asked the judge. + +"It was he who struck the blow; I saw him with my own eyes, as I told +you years ago. Then he escaped by the window into a back-street; I +followed him, but he was too quick for me. A cab waited for him, +picked him up, and he was driven away." + +While Hyde was speaking the judge had turned over the pages of a +voluminous document in front of him,--a detailed report of the +previous interrogation. + +"Your story does not vary. You have either an excellent memory, +or--" and the stern magistrate smiled quite archly--"or you are +really telling me the truth." + +"The truth! I can swear to it." + +"What is more, your story is in the main corroborated. Shortly after +your escape we laid hands on the very cabman who had helped Ledantec +away. He described the scene as you have, and through him we got upon +the trace of his fare--Ledantec, as you call him." + +"But you never arrested him?" + +"Until now he carefully kept away from Paris." + +"But you have him now on a double charge." + +"Him and his accomplice. Justice will be satisfied, never fear." + +"How long will you keep me here?" + +"I regret that for the present it will be impossible to release you. +We are compelled first to verify the facts before us. But in a few +days at the latest I hope your trouble will be at an end. You have +powerful friends, Monsieur." + +"The British Embassy, I suppose?" said Hyde, complacently. + +"Yes; and his Imperial Majesty has deigned to go personally into your +case." + +"Then I can wait events calmly and without fear." + +Presently, when Hyde had been removed, Ledantec was introduced, and +was received with the brutal harshness which was the judge's habitual +manner towards prisoners. + +"Your name, profession, address?" he asked abruptly. + +"Silas Hobson, an English journalist, residing in Duke Street, St. +James's, London." + +"It is false! You have no right to the name of Hobson. You are not an +Englishman. You may reside in London, but it is only temporarily." + +"Who am I then?" asked Ledantec with a sneer. + +"In Paris, at your last visit, you passed as Hippolyte Ledantec, but +your real name is Serge Michaelovitch Vasilenikoff. You are a Russian +by birth, by profession a gambler, a blackleg, a cheat." + +Ledantec, as I shall still call him, merely shrugged his shoulders in +sarcastic helplessness at this abuse. + +"You are worse. You are a spy in the service of the enemies of the +State; an unconvicted murderer--" + +He bent his eyes upon the prisoner with a piercing gaze, to watch the +effect of this accusation. + +Ledantec never blenched, and the judge presently continued-- + +"You are the real author of the crime in Tinplate Street." + +"M. Rupert Gascoigne is your informant, I presume," said Ledantec +sneering; "it is easy to rebut a charge by throwing it on another. But +you are too clever, M. le Juge, to be imposed upon." + +"You at least cannot hoodwink me. We have the fullest evidence, let me +tell you, of the crime--all the crimes--laid to your charge. Your +accomplice has confessed." + +This was said to try the prisoner, and it succeeded, for he started +slightly at the word "crimes." + +"Accomplice! Of whom do you speak?" + +"There is a woman in custody who has been associated with you for +years. It was she who instigated you to the robbery and murder of the +Baron d'Enot. She joined you when you fled from the gambling-den in +Tinplate Street, and shared your flight from Paris. She was with you +in St. Petersburg till you separated after a violent quarrel--" + +"The blame was hers," interrupted Ledantec. + +"Possibly, but you were equally to blame. In any case she left you to +shift for herself. She entered a great English family by a false +marriage, and, when next you met her, conspired with her to bring the +wealth of that family within her grasp. You again became her guilty +partner, and plotted to take the life of the heir to a noble English +title and great estates." + +He was referring now to McKay, but Ledantec, misled by a guilty +conscience, was thinking of Lord Lydstone, and his mysteriously sudden +death. + +"That was her doing!" he cried remorsefully. "In removing Lord +Lydstone--" + +The judge caught quickly at the new name. + +"You removed, or, more plainly, you murdered Lord Lydstone at the +instigation of your accomplice--is that so?" + +Ledantec would not confess to this, but the judge felt certain that he +had come upon the track of another dreadful crime. + +"There is enough against you," he went on slowly, "to convict you a +dozen times over, enough to send you to the guillotine. Your only hope +will be to make a clean breast of everything. By helping us to convict +your accomplice you may save your forfeited life." + +"But I shall be sent to the galleys; to Toulon or Brest. Life as a +French galley-slave is worse than death." + +"You will not think so when the alternative is put before you," said +the judge, dryly; "and my advice to you is to make a full +confession." + +Ledantec shook his head, but it was with far less assurance than he +had shown at the beginning of his examination. It was clear that he +saw himself fast in the toils; that the law held him tight in its +clutch; that unqualified submission was the only course to pursue. + +He had spoken fully and unreservedly, confessing freely to every +guilty deed in his long career of wickedness, possessing the judge +with every detail of his own and his accomplice's crimes, when that +accomplice was brought up for interrogation in her turn. + +She was ghastly pale: the rough ordeal of imprisonment had robbed her +dress and demeanour of all its coquetry; but she faced the magistrate +with self-possessed, insolent effrontery, and met his stern look with +cold, unflinching eyes. + +"Why am I brought here?" she began, fiercely. "How dare you detain me? +You and your masters shall answer for this ill-usage. I am an English +lady, belonging to one of the proudest families in the country. The +British Embassy, the British nation, will call you to the strictest +account." + +"Ta! ta! ta!" said the judge, with a gesture of the hand essentially +French; "I think you are slightly mistaken; you are no more English than I +am. I know you, and all about you, Cyprienne Vergette--otherwise Gascoigne, +otherwise Wilders. + +"Shall I tell you a little of your early history? How you eloped from +Gibraltar, where your father was Vice-Consul; how you came to Paris +with your lover; your marriage, your life, your desertion of your +husband, your association with Ledantec, your second marriage, your +plots against Milord Essendine and his family, your murder--" + +"It is a lie!" she interrupted him, hastily. "I never committed +murder." + +"You compassed Lord Lydstone's death, although you did not strike the +blow. You would have caused the death of another English officer, but, +happily, he has escaped your murderous intrigues." + +Only that morning the French journals had copied from the English an +account of McKay's almost providential escape on the 18th of June. + +"But your last attempt has failed utterly. Mr.--" he referred to +his papers for the name--"McKay is safe within the British lines. The +agent you employed to inveigle him into danger is dead, but with his +last breath he confessed that he had had his orders from you. Now, +Cyprienne Vergette, what have you to say?" + +"I deny everything. I protest against your jurisdiction." + +"The Assize Court will hear, but scarcely admit, your plea. That +tribunal and its president will deal you as you deserve." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +L'ENVOI. + + +The _Burlington Castle_ made a short halt at Constantinople, and +another, somewhat longer, at Malta; a third was to be made at +Gibraltar, where two of our most important characters proposed to +leave the ship. + +The delay at Malta was to allow Miss Hidalgo to make her appearance in +the Supreme Court as principal witness against the baker, Giuseppe +Pisani, commonly called Valetta Joe. + +The British military authorities in the Crimea had hesitated to deal +summarily with the spy's offence. He might have been hanged out of +hand under the Mutiny Act; but such swift retribution, however richly +merited, was obnoxious to our general's sense of justice. + +He preferred to leave the criminal to the ordinary tribunals of his +native island. It could adjudge and carry out any punishment short of +death, if so inclined. In the Crimea the capital sentence only would +have been possible. + +The trial was short and summary. Mariquita, dressed still in the +sober, quaker-like garb of a hospital-nurse, said what she had to say +in a few simple words. Her sweet face and artless manner were the +admiration of the whole court, and there was a little round of +applause as it came out that she had ventured so far and braved so +much out of love for the gallant soldier who was leaning on his +crutches close by her side. + +Valetta Joe was found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment for four +years, and with his conviction the reader's interest in him will +probably cease. It disposed of the last of McKay's active enemies; +Benito, as we have seen, had died in Balaclava hospital, and Cyprienne +Vergette and her accomplice were in the grip of the French law. + +The enemies had disappeared; friends only remained. When he landed at +Gibraltar numbers came to greet him, from the Governor himself to the +Tio Pedro and the old crone his wife. Letters had already assured them +of Mariquita's safety, and they wept crocodile tears of joy as they +clasped her once more in their arms. + +They were her only relatives, and as such McKay was compelled to +surrender his love to them for a time. But only for the very briefest +time. He measured their affections at its true value, and had no +compunction in asserting his claim over theirs to protect and cherish +her. + +He easily persuaded them and Mariquita, but with some tender +insistence, to hurry on the marriage, and it took place within a few +short weeks of their return to the Rock. Why should he wait? He was +his own master; the only relative whose consent and approval he +coveted--his mother--had already promised gladly to accept the girl of +his choice. + +His great relatives, the Essendines, might question the propriety of +the match, anxious that he should look higher, and find his future +bride amongst the aristocracy to which he now rightly belonged. + +That was a point on which he meant to please himself, and did. + +When, after a short honeymoon at Granada, the young married couple +returned to Gibraltar and travelled leisurely homewards, Lord +Essendine was one of the first to welcome him on arrival, and to +congratulate him on the beauty of his bride. + +By-and-by, when the days of mourning were ended, Lady Essendine came +out of her strict retirement to present Mrs. McKay at Court; and the +handsome Spanish girl with the strange romantic history was one of the +greatest successes of the next London season. Ere long the future +succession of the Essendine title was assured beyond doubt. McKay was +blessed with a numerous family--many sons came to satisfy the head of +the house that the title of Essendine and the family name were in no +danger of extinction. But Lord Essendine lived for many years after +the termination of the Crimean war, and McKay was a general officer +and a Knight of the Bath before he became the fifteenth Earl of +Essendine. + +Having thus disposed of the hero whose early career was so chequered +and eventful, I must add a word as to the fate of the other actors in +this veracious narrative. + +First as to Hyde, who continued to be known by that name to his death, +preferring it greatly to the other, with its painful memories. He +remained a prisoner in the depôt of the Prefecture only a few days. +The confession made by Ledantec and the evidence of other witnesses so +amply attested the innocence of the M. Gascoigne accused of the +Tinplate Street murder that his release followed as a matter of +course. Hyde waited in Paris to hear the issue of the trial of the +real offenders, and, painful as it was to be present at the sentence +of the woman who had once borne his name, he yet listened without +flinching to the whole story. After all, there was a certain relief in +knowing that he was well rid of her. It was little likely that the +Central prison to which she was consigned in perpetual "reclusion" +would ever surrender its prey. + +He heard, too, with lively satisfaction, the sentence of his old foe, +Ledantec, to hard labour at the galleys for twenty years. + +With these trials, and the penalties that followed them, he turned +down for ever the dark page of his life, and presently returned to +England, where he spent the remainder of his leave with his old friend +and comrade, McKay. + +After that had expired he returned to the Crimea, and was present at +the closing scenes of the war. He continued to serve with the Royal +Picts for many years more--the regiment had become his home--and, as +he was in due course promoted to the post of paymaster, his position +and income were materially changed. + +He lived to a green old age, retiring from the service full of rank +and honour. Colonel Hyde was long a notable figure at his club in Pall +Mall, which gained a new and very popular _chef_ when Anatole Belhomme +wrote him that he had been summarily dismissed from the French police. +Hyde spent a great portion of every year at Essendine Castle, after +his friend had succeeded to the estates, and there was no more +honoured guest than he at the coming of age of Rupert, Viscount +Lydstone, his godson. + +The boy whom Mrs. Wilders had hesitated to surrender to old Lord +Essendine, from greed rather than maternal instinct, was not neglected +by the old peer. After the mother had passed out of sight, the son was +brought up decently, given a good education, and eventually started +in life. He adopted the military profession, and was not denied the +support and encouragement of Stanislas McKay. + +Our hero was able to help his uncle, too, the much-aggrieved +functionary of the Military Munition Department, and secured for him +the decoration he had so long coveted in vain. + +Uncle Barto, the worthy captain of the _Burlington Castle_, made a +snug fortune by his commercial ventures during the war, and paid +regular visits to his nephew, Stanny. Mrs. McKay, or Countess of +Essendine as she became, could never forget what she owed for his +generous hospitality on board the _Burlington_. + + +THE END. + + + * * * * * + + +BLUE BLOOD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"The idea is simply preposterous. I decline to entertain it. I cannot +listen to it--not for one moment. Never!" + +The speaker was Mrs. Purling, "heiress of the Purlings"; imperious, +emphatic, self-opinionated, as women become who have had their own way +all their lives through. + +"But, mother," went on Harold, her only son--like herself, large and +broadly built; but, unlike her, quiet and rather submissive in manner, +as one who had been habitually kept under--"I am really in earnest. I +am absolutely sick of doing nothing." + +"Because you won't do what you might. There is plenty for you to do. +Has not the Duchess asked you to Scotland? You refuse--and such a +splendid invitation! I have offered you a yacht. I say you may share a +river in Norway with dear Lord Faro. I implore you to drive a coach, +to keep racehorses, to take your place in the best society, as the +representative of the Purling--" + +"Pills?" put in Harold, with a queer smile. + +His mother's face grew black instantly. + +"Harold, do not dare to speak in that way. My father's memory should +be respected by my only son." + +Old Purling had made all his money by a certain chemical compound +which had been adopted by the world at large as a panacea for every +ill. But the heiress of the Purlings hated any reference to the +Primeval Pills, although she owed to them her wealth. + +"I want a profession," Harold said, returning to his point. "I want +regular employment." + +"Well, I say go into the Guards." + +"I am too old. Besides, peace-soldiering, and in London, would never +suit me, I know." + +"Read law; it is a gentlemanly occupation." + +"But most uninteresting. Now medicine--" + +"Do not let me hear the word; the mere idea is intolerable. My son, +the heir of the Purlings must not condescend so low." + +"Considering my own father was a doctor," cried Harold, rather hotly. + +"Not a mere doctor. A man of science, of world-wide repute, is not like +a general practitioner, with a red lamp and an apothecary's shop, +where he makes up--" + +"Pills?" said Harold, again. He was throwing down the gauntlet indeed. +Mrs. Purling had never known him like this before. + +"Leave the room, Harold. I decline to speak to you further, or again, +unless you appear in a more obedient and decorous frame of mind." + +That Mrs. Purling was what she was, the chances of her life and her +father were principally to blame. He had begun life as an errand-boy, +and ended it as a millionnaire; but long before he ended he had +forgotten the beginning. He had a sort of notion that he belonged to +one of the old families in the county wherein he had bought wide +estates, and he himself styled his only daughter "the heiress of the +Purlings," as if there had been Purlings back for generations, and he +was the last, not the first, of his race. It was he who had +indoctrinated her with ideas of her own importance; and these same +views had taken so strong a hold of him that he found it quite +impossible to mate his daughter according to his mind. He was +ambitious, as was natural to a _nouveau riche_; wide awake, or he +would not have made so much money. Not one of the crowds of suitors +who came forward was exactly to his taste. He would have preferred a +man of title, but the peers who were not penniless were too proud; and +the best baronet was an aged bankrupt, who had been twice through the +courts, and enjoyed an indifferent name. It was strange that Isabel +did not cut the Gordian knot, and choose for herself; but she was a +dutiful daughter, and little less cautious than her father. In the +midst of it all he was called away on some particular business of his +own--to another world--and Isabel was left alone, past thirty, and +unmarried still. + +The _rôle_ of single blessedness may be charming to a man of means, +but it is often extremely irksome to an heiress in her own right. Miss +Purling was like a pigeon that escapes from the inclosure at a +match--an aim for every gun around. Great ladies took her up, as a +kindness to their younger sons; briefless barristers, with visions of +the Woolsack, besought her to help them to the first step--a seat in +the House; clergymen with great views prayed her to join them in some +stupendous charitable work, that must win for them the lawn-sleeves; +more than one impecunious soldier pleaded with her for their tailors, +whose bills without her help they were quite unable to pay. She seemed +a common prey, fair game for every hand. This developed in her an +undue amount of suspicion and a certain hardness of heart. She began +to doubt whether there was one disinterested man in the whole world. + +But before many years had passed she realised that unless she married +there could be no prospect of peace. Already she had quarrelled with a +dozen companions of her own sex; she wished now to try one of the +other. But men seemed tired of proposing to her. She had the character +of being as hard and cold as iron; and no one cared to run his head +against a wall. If she wanted a husband now the proposal must come +from her. Miss Purling in her heart rather liked the notion; it gave +her a chance of posing like a queen in search of a consort, and years +of independence had made her very queenlike and despotic indeed. So +much so, that the only man to suit her must be a mere cipher without a +will of his own; and he was difficult to find. Men of the kind are not +plentiful unless they plainly perceive substantial advantage from +assuming the part. But few guessed what kind of man would exactly +suit Isabel Purling, so there were few pretenders. + +Among those who flocked to her _soirées_--she was fond of entertaining +in spite of her disabilities as a single woman--was a meek little +professor, who lodged in Camden Town, and who came afoot in roomy +goloshes, which now and again, in a fit of abstraction, he carried +upstairs and laid upon the tea-table or at his hostess's feet, as +though the carpet was damp and he feared she might run the risk of +catarrh. He was reputed to be extremely erudite, a ripe scholar, and +of some fame in scientific research. But of all his discoveries--and +he had made many under the microscope and in space--the most +surprising was the discovery that a lady who owned a deer-park and +many thousands a-year desired him to make her his wife. But he was an +obliging little man, always ready to do a kind thing for anybody; and +he obliged Miss Purling in the way she wished--after all, at some cost +to himself. The marriage meant little less than self-effacement for +him; he was to take his wife's name instead of giving her his; he was +to forego his favourite pursuits, and from an independent man of +science pass into a mere appendage to the Purling property--part and +parcel of his wife's goods and chattels as much as the park-palings, +or her last-purchased dinner-service of rare old "blue." + +It was odd that Miss Purling's choice should have fallen where it did; +for her tendencies were decidedly upward, and she would have dearly +loved to be styled "my lady," and to have moved freely in the society +of the "blue-blooded of the land." It was her distrustfulness which +had stood in the way. She feared that in an aristocratic alliance she +could not have made her own terms. And with the results of this +marriage with Dr. Purling--as he was henceforth styled--she had every +reason to be pleased. He proved a most exemplary husband--the chief of +her subjects, nothing more; a loyal, unpretending vassal, who did not +ask to share the purple, but was content to sit upon the steps of the +throne. He continued a shy, reserved, unobtrusive little man to the +end of the chapter; and the chapter was closed without unnecessary +delay as soon as the birth of a son secured the succession of the +Purling estates. Dr. Purling felt there was nothing more required of +him, so he quietly died. + +His widow raised a tremendous tablet to his memory, eulogising his +scientific attainments and domestic worth; but, although she appeared +inconsolable, she was secretly pleased to have the uncontrolled +education of her infant son. An elderly lady with a baby-boy is like a +girl with a doll--just as the little mother dresses and undresses its +counterfeit presentment of a child in wax and rags, crooning over its +tiny cradle, talking to it in baby-language, pretending to watch with +anxious solicitude its every mood, so Mrs. Purling found in Harold a +plaything of which she never tired. She coddled and cosseted him to +her heart's content. If he had cried for the moon some effort would +have been made to obtain for him the loan of that pale planet, or the +best substitute for it that could be got for cash. If his finger +ached, or he had a pain in his big toe, he was physicked with half the +Pharmacopoeia; he underwent divers systems of regimen, was kept out +of draughts, cautioned against chills, cased in red flannel; he might, +to crown all, have been laid by in cotton-wool. His mother's over-much +care ought to have killed him; but he had inherited from her a fine +physique, and the lad was large-limbed, healthy, and well grown. + +And this vigilant supervision was prolonged far beyond the time when +youths are emancipated usually from their mother's control. Long after +he had left college, and was launched out upon the world, she kept +her hands upon the reins, ruling him with a sharp bit, and driving him +the road she decided it was best for him to go. Mrs. Purling had grown +more and more imperious with advancing years, impatient of +contradiction, self-satisfied, very positive that everything she did +was right. She could not brook opposition to her wishes. Those who +dared to thwart her must do it at their peril; no nature but one +entirely subservient would be likely to continue permanently in accord +with hers; and it was easy to predict troubles in the future between +mother and son unless he yielded always a complete and docile +submission to her will. + +For a long time Harold wore his chains without a murmur. Obedient +deference had been a habit with him from childhood, and, however +irksome and galling the slavery, it was not until he had made +practical acquaintance with the actual value of the life she wished +him to lead that there arose in him a disposition to rebel. Mrs. +Purling had all along been chafed with the notion that she did not +enjoy that social distinction to which as a wealthy woman she +considered herself entitled. In her own estimation she ranked very +high; but the best families of the neighbourhood did not accept her +valuation. Some went so far as to call her a vulgar old snob; and +"snobbish," as we understand the word, she certainly was. She +worshipped rank; and it was a very sore point with her that she was +not freely admitted into the best society of the county in which she +lived. She looked to Harold to redress her wrongs. Where she failed, a +handsome young fellow, of engaging presence and heir to a fine estate, +must assuredly succeed. He might, if he chose, be acceptable anywhere. +There was no limit to her dreams. He might mate with a duke's +daughter; and after such an alliance--who would presume to question +the social rights of the Purlings? + +It was therefore her chief and greatest desire to make a man of +fashion of her son. Her purse was long--he might dip into it as deep +as he pleased. Let him but take his proper position, on an equality +with the noblest and best, and all charges would be gladly defrayed by +her. She wanted him to be a dandy, _répandu_ in society, a member of +the Coaching Club, well known at Prince's, at Hurlingham, at Lord's; +sought after by dowagers; intimate with royalties; she would not have +seriously resented a reputation for a little wickedness, provided he +erred in the right direction--with people of the blue blood, that is +to say--and the scandal did not go too far. + +Unhappily, Harold's tastes and inclinations lay all in the opposite +direction. In external appearance he favoured his mother, in +disposition he was his father's son. Like him reserved--he would have +been shy but for his training at school and college, which had rubbed +the sensitive skin off his self-consciousness; like him studious too, +thoughtful, quiet, with scientific tastes and proclivities. His +friends in familiar talk called him "Old Steady"; he had never got +into debt or serious trouble. Even in the midst of the whirling maze +of London life he continued steadfastly sober and sedate. + +Here at once was to be found the germ of discord between mother and +son, the first gap or chink in their friendly relations, which might +widen some day into a yawning breach. But yet Mrs. Purling could find +no fault with her son. She might resent the staid sober-mindedness of +his conduct; but she was perforce compelled to confess that he was a +dear good son, affectionate, devoted, considerate; and there was much +solid comfort in the thought that the good name of the Purlings, as +well as their substantial wealth, could be safely intrusted to his +hands. This she readily allowed; and, had he continued obedient and +tractable until he was grey-haired, Mrs. Purling might have gone down +into her grave without a shadow of excuse for quarreling with her +son. + +It was when he was past five-and-twenty that there arose between them +misunderstanding, at first only a small cloud no bigger than a man's +hand. Harold suddenly declared that he was sick of gallivanting about +the fashionable world; sick of idleness--sick of the silly purposeless +existence he led; and thereupon announced his intention of studying +medicine seriously and as a profession. Mrs. Purling was at first +aghast, then argumentative, finally indignant. But Harold remained +inflexible, and she grew more and more wrathful. It led at length to +something like a rupture between them. She received the news of his +success in the schools with grim contempt, condescending only to ask +once whether he wished her to buy him a practice, or whether he meant +to put up a red lamp at the family-mansion in Berkeley Square. + +Her persistent implacability gave Harold much pain, but he did not +despair of bringing her round in the end; only, to avoid further +dissensions, he wisely resolved to keep out of her way: and as soon as +he had gained his diploma he started for Germany, intending to +prosecute his studies abroad. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was not until he had been absent more than a year that Mrs. Purling +appeared to relent. She began to yearn after her son; she missed him +and was disposed to be reconciled, provided he would but meet her +half-way. At first she sent olive-branches in the shape of munificent +letters of credit over and above his liberal allowance; then came more +distinct overtures in lengthy epistles, which grew daily warmer in +tone and plainly showed that her resentment was passing rapidly away. +These letters of hers were her chief pleasure in life; she prided +herself on her ability to wield the pen. When, instead of a few curt +sentences in brief acknowledgment of his letters, his mother resumed +her old custom of filling several sheets of post with advice, gossip, +odds and ends of news, mixed with stray scraps of wisdom culled from +Martin Tupper, Harold began to hope that the worst was over and that +he would soon be forgiven in set form. + +And he was right. Pardon was soon extended to him, not quite +unconditional, but weighted merely with terms which--Mrs. Purling +thought--no sensible man could hesitate to accept. + +She only asked him to settle in life. He must marry some day--why not +soon? Not to anybody, of course,--he must be on his guard against +foreign intriguing sirens, who would entangle him if they could,--but +to some lady of rank and fashion, fitted by birth and breeding to be +the mother of generations of Purlings yet to be. This was the +condition she annexed to forgiveness of the past; this the text upon +which she preached in her letters week after week. The doctrine of +judicious marriage appeared in all she wrote with the unfailing +regularity of the red thread that runs through all the strands of +Admiralty rope. + +Harold smiled at the reiteration of these sentiments; smiled, but he +had misgivings. Herein might be another source of disagreement between +his mother and himself. Would their respective opinions agree as to +the style of girl most likely to suit him? Then he began to consider +what style of girl his mother would choose; and while he was thus +musing there came a missive which plainly showed Mrs. Purling's hand. + +"I have been at Compton Revel for a week--" + +"I wonder," thought Harold, when he had read thus far, "why they asked +her there? My dear old mother must have been in the seventh heaven of +delight. She always longed to be on more intimate terms with Lady +Calverly." + +"I have been at Compton Revel for a week," his mother said, "and met +there a Miss Fanshawe, one of Lord Fanshawe's daughters, who seemed to +me quite the nicest girl I have ever known. I took to her directly; +and without conceit I may be permitted to say that I think she took +quite as readily to me. We became immense friends. She was at such +pains to be agreeable to an uninteresting old woman like myself that I +feel convinced she has a good heart. I confess I was charmed with her. +It is not only that she is strikingly handsome, but her whole bearing +and her style are so distinguished that she might be descended from a +long line of kings--as I make no doubt she is. + +"Of course she has moved only in the best circles; her mother being +dead, she has been introduced by the Countess of Gayfeather, and goes +with her ladyship everywhere. Just imagine, she has been to +State-balls at the Palace; the Prince has danced with her, and she has +been spoken to by the Princess! You know how I enjoy hearing all the +news of the great world, and Miss Fanshawe has been so obliging as to +amuse me for hours with descriptions of all she has seen and +heard--not a little, I assure you; she is not one of those flighty +girls who have no ears but for flattery, no eyes but for young men; +she is observant, critical perhaps, but strikingly just in her +strictures on what goes on around. I find she has thought out several +of the complex problems of our modern high-pressure life; and really +she gave me very valuable ideas upon my favourite theory of +'lady-helps,' to which I am devoting now so much of my spare time. + +"Miss Fanshawe has promised to pay me a long visit at Purlington some +day soon--a real act of kindness which I fully appreciate. It will +indeed be a treat to a lonely old woman to find so entertaining a +guest and companion. + +"When do you think of returning? Gollop tells me there are plenty of +pheasants this year. Surely, you have had enough of those dry German +_savants_ and that dull university-town?" + +The hook was rather coarsely baited; it would hardly have deceived +the most guileless and unsuspecting. Harold Purling at a glance could +read between the lines; he could trace effect to cause, and readily +understood why his mother was so anxious for his return. + +"One of Lady Gayfeather's girls, is she? I never thought much of that +lot. However--but why on earth should Lady Calverly take my dear +mother up in this way, at the eleventh hour?" + +He would have wondered yet more if he had seen how cordially Mrs. +Purling had been welcomed to Compton Revel. + +"It is so good of you to come to us," Lady Calverly said, with +effusion. "We are so glad to have you here, and have looked forward to +it for so long." + +For about seventeen years, in fact, during which time Lord and Lady +Calverly had completely ignored the existence of their near neighbour, +Mrs. Purling. Compton Revel might have been a paradise, and the +heiress an exiled peri waiting at the gates. + +The party assembled was after Mrs. Purling's own heart. They were all +great people, at least in name; and the heiress of the Purlings was +heard to murmur that she did like to be in such good society--she felt +so perfectly at home. And they all made much of her. One night she +was handed in to dinner by a Duke, another by an ex-Cabinet Minister. +The latter made her feel proud, for the first time in her life, of her +son, and the line he had adopted so sorely against her will. + +"Mr. Purling's paper on toxicology," he said, "is quite the cleverest +thing that has appeared on the subject. My friend, Sir William--," +he mentioned a physician of world-wide repute, "considers that Mr. +Purling will go far." + +Lady Calverly followed suit by declaring that Mr. Purling was a +pattern young man, everyone gave him so good a character. They _did_ +hope to see him at Compton Revel directly he got back to England. + +Then Miss Fanshawe metaphorically prostrated herself before Mrs. +Purling, and by judicious phrases and ready sympathy completely won +her good-will. + +"You certainly made an impression upon her, Phillipa," said Lady +Calverly afterwards. + +"She is a vain and rather silly old woman," Miss Fanshawe replied. +Language that might have opened Mrs. Purling's eyes. + +"But I am very glad you became such good friends. Purlington is a very +desirable place." + +Here, then, was a faint clue to the mystery of Mrs. Purling's tardy +reception at Compton Revel. Intrigue--not necessarily base, but +covered by the harmless phrase, "It would be so very nice"--was at +work to bring about a match between Miss Fanshawe and Harold Purling. +She was one of a large family of girls and her father was an +impoverished peer. Besides, her career so far had not been an unmixed +success. Lady Gayfeather's young ladies had the reputation of being +the "quickest" in the town. + +"I have met the son," went on Lady Calverly. + +"Yes?" Phillipa's tone was one of absolute indifference. + +"He is a gentleman." + +"I have always heard of him as a solemn prig--'Old Steady' he was +named at college. I confess I have no special leaning to these very +proper and decorous youths." + +"Do not say that you are harping still on that old affair. I assure +you Gilly Jillingham is unworthy of you. You are not thinking still of +each other, I sincerely hope?" + +"I may be of him," said Phillipa bitterly. "He is not likely to think +of any one--but himself." + +"I shall never forgive myself for surrendering you to Lady Gayfeather. +Nothing but misery seems to hang about her and her house. This last +affair--" + +There had been a terrible scandal, not many months old, and hardly +forgotten yet, which had roused Lady Calverly to remove her cousin, +Phillipa Fanshawe, from the evil influences of Lady Gayfeather's set. +Whether or not the rescue had come in time it would be difficult to +say. Miss Fanshawe could hardly escape scot-free from her +associations, nor was it to her advantage that rumour had bracketed +her name with that of a successful but not popular man of fashion. +There had been a talk of marriage, but he had next to nothing; no more +had she. + +"We must have an end to all that," said Lady Calverly decisively. "You +must promise me to forget Mr. Jillingham for good and all." + +"Of course," replied Phillipa; but the pale face and that sad look in +her weary eyes belied her words. + +It seemed as if she had shot her bolt at the target of life's +happiness, and that the arrow had fallen very wide of the gold. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +When old Purling bought the ----shire estates there was an ancient +manor-house on the property, a picturesque but inconvenient residence, +which did not at all come up to his ideas of a country gentleman's +place. It was therefore incontinently pulled down, and one of the most +fashionable architects of the day, having _carte blanche_ to build, +erected a Palladian pile of wide frontage and imposing dimensions on +the most prominent site he could find. It ought to have haunted its +author like a crime; but he was spared, and the punishment fell upon +the innocent who dwelt around. There was no escape from Purlington, so +long as you were within a dozen miles of it. Wherever you went and +wherever you looked, down from points of vantage or up from quiet +dells, this great white caravanserai, with its glittering plate-glass +panes and staring stucco, forced itself upon you with the unblushing +effrontery of a brazen beauty, with painted face and bedizened in +flaunting attire. But the heiress thought it was a very splendid +place, with its pineries, conservatories, its acres of glass, and its +army of retainers in liveries of rainbow hues. Mrs. Purling was a +little afraid of her servants, albeit strong-minded in other respects; +but it was natural she should submit to a coachman who had once worn +the royal livery, or quail before a butler who had lived with a duke. + +The butler met Harold on his return, extending to him a gracious +patronising welcome, as if he were doing the honours of his own house. + +"Misterarold," he cried, making one word of the name and title, "this +is a pleasant surprise. You wus not expected, sir; not in the least." + +"My mother is at home?" + +"No, sir; out. In the kerridge. She drove Homersham way." + +"See after my things. Here are my keys." And Harold passed on to the +little morning-room which Mrs. Purling called her own. Having the +choice of half-a-dozen chambers, each as big as Exeter Hall, she +preferred to occupy habitually the smallest den in the house. To his +surprise he found the room not untenanted. A young lady was at the +book-case, and she turned seemingly in trepidation on hearing the door +open. + +"Miss Fanshawe," thought Harold, as he advanced with eyes that were +unmistakably critical. + +"I must introduce myself," he said. "I am Harold." + +"The last of the Saxon kings?" + +"No; the first of the Purling princes. I know you quite well. Has my +mother never mentioned me?" + +"I only arrived yesterday," the young lady replied, rather evading the +question. + +"My mother must be delighted. She told me she was looking forward +eagerly to your promised visit." + +"She really spoke of me?" + +"In her letters; again and again." + +"I hardly thought--" + +"That you had taken her by storm? You have; and I was surprised, for +she is not easily won." + +Not a civil speech, which this girl only resented by placing a pair of +old-fashioned double glasses across her small nose, and looking at him +with a gravity that was quite comical. + +"But now that I have met you I can readily understand." + +The same look through the glasses; sphinx-like, she seemed impervious +both to depreciation and compliment. + +"And she has left you alone all the morning? I am afraid you must have +been bored." + +"Thank you. I had my work." + +It was an exquisite piece of art needlework. Water-lilies and yellow +irises on a purple ground. She confessed it was her own design. + +"And books?" + +He took up Schlegel's _Philosophy of History_ in the original. + +"You read German?" + +"O yes." + +"And Italian? and French? and Sanscrit--without doubt?" + +"Not quite; but I have looked into Max Müller, and know something of +Monier Williams." + +And this was one of Lady Gayfeather's girls! Was this a new process, +the last dodge in the perpetual warfare between maidens and mankind? + +Harold looked at the prodigy. + +In appearance she was quite unlike the conventional type of a London +young lady of fashion. Her fresh dimpled cheeks wore roses and a +pearly bloom that spoke of healthy hours and a tranquil life; her +dress was quiet almost to plainness; there was nothing modern in the +style of her coiffure; Lobb would not have been proud of her boots. +Her fair white hands were innocent of rings; she wore no jewelry; +there was no gold or silver about her, except for the gold-rimmed +glasses that made so curious a contrast to her young face, with its +merry eyes and frame of mutinous curls. + +"You will not be angry," said Harold earnestly, "if I tell you that +you are not in the least what I expected to find you, Miss +Fanshawe--" + +"Miss Fanshawe!" Her gay laugh was infectious. "I'm afraid--" + +But just now the butler came in to say that the carriage was coming up +the drive. Harold went out to meet his mother, without noticing that +the young lady also got up and hurriedly left the room. + +"It's just like you, you stupid boy!" said the heiress. "Why did you +give me no notice?" + +"I meant to have written from Paris. But it's all for the best. You +were quite right. She is perfectly charming." + +"Who?" + +"Miss Fanshawe. I have made her acquaintance." + +"In town?" + +"No, here; in your own morning-room." + +"What!" The ejaculation contained volumes. "Was there ever anything so +annoying! But it is all your fault for coming so unexpectedly." + +"What harm? We introduced ourselves, Miss Fanshawe--" + +"Miss Fiddlesticks! That's Dolly Driver, your father's cousin!" + +"Indeed! Then I wish I had made the acquaintance of my father's +cousins a little earlier in life. Why have I been kept in ignorance of +my relatives? Where do they live?" + +Mrs. Purling, instead of answering him, took him by the arm abruptly, +as if to ask him some searching question; then suddenly checking +herself, she said-- + +"Have you had lunch? It must be ready. Come into the dining-room." + +"Will not Miss Driver join us?" + +"She will go to the housekeeper's room, where she ought to have been +sitting, and not in my boudoir." + +"Mother!" + +"It's as well to be plain-spoken. Dolly Driver is not of our rank in +life. Her parents are miserably poor. Nevertheless,"--as if the crime +hardly deserved such liberal pardon,--"I am not indisposed to help +them. She is going to a situation." + +"Poor girl! Companion or governess? or both?" + +"Neither; she will be either housemaid or undernurse." + +Harold almost jumped off his chair. + +"A girl like that! as a domestic servant! Mother, it's a disgraceful +shame!" + +"The disgrace is in the language you permit yourself to use to me. +Your travels have made you rather boisterous and _gauche_. What +disgrace can there be in honest work? Household work is honourable, +and was once occupation for the daughters of kings. Happily the world +grows more sensible. I look to the day as not far distant when the +wide-spread employment of lady-helps will solve that terrible +problem--the redundancy of girls." + +"My cousin will not continue redundant, I feel sure." + +"She is not your cousin." + +"Whether or no, she should be spared the degradation you propose. She +is a girl of culture, highly educated. You cannot condemn her to the +kitchen." + +"The lady-helps have their own apartment; but I decline to justify +myself." + +And Mrs. Purling lapsed into silence. There was friction between them +already. + +"Where are you going?" she asked, when lunch was over. + +"To the housekeeper's room." + +"Harold, I forbid you. It's highly improper--it's absolutely +indelicate." + +"She is my cousin; besides there is a _chaperone_, Mrs. Haigh, or I'll +call in the cook." + +"Do you mean to set me at defiance?" + +"I mean to do what I consider right, even although my views may not +coincide with yours, mother." + +For the rest of the day, indeed, Harold never left his newly-found +cousin's side. The heiress fumed and fretted, and scolded, but all in +vain. There was a new kind of masterfulness about her son which for +the moment she was powerless to resist. + +"Of course she will dine with us," Harold said. And of course she did, +although Mrs. Purling looked as if she wished every mouthful would +choke her. Of course Harold called her Dolly to her face; was she not +his cousin? Quite as naturally he would have given her a cousinly kiss +when he said good-night, but something in her pure eyes and modest +face restrained him. + +Certainly she was the nicest girl he had ever met in his life. + +"Where's Doll?" he asked next morning at breakfast. "Not down?" + +"Miss Driver is half-way to London, I hope," replied Mrs. Purling, +curtly. She was not a bad general, and had taken prompt measures +already to recover from her temporary reverse. + +"I shall go after her." + +"If you do, you need not trouble to return." + +Nothing more was said, but anger filled the hearts of both mother and +son. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"I expect my dear friend, Miss Fanshawe, in a few days, Harold. I +trust you will treat her becomingly." + +"One would think I was a bear just escaped from the Zoo. Why should +you fear discourtesy from me to any lady?" + +"Because she is a friend of mine. Of late you seemed disposed to run +counter to me in every respect." + +"I have no such desire, I assure you," said Harold, gravely; and there +the matter ended. + +The preparation for Miss Fanshawe's reception could not have been more +ambitious if she had been a royal princess. With much reluctance Mrs. +Purling eschewed triumphal arches and a brass band, but she +redecorated the best bedroom, and sent two carriages to the station, +although her guest could hardly be expected to travel in both. + +"_This_ is Miss Fanshawe," said the heiress, with much emphasis--"the +Honourable Miss Fanshawe." + +"The Honourable Miss Fanshawe is only a very humble personage, not at +all deserving high-sounding titles," said the young lady for herself. +"My name is Phillipa--to my friends, and as such I count you, dear +Mrs. Purling; perhaps some day I may be allowed to say the same of +your son." + +She spoke rapidly, with the fluent ease natural to a well-bred woman. +In the subdued light of the cosy room Harold made out a tall, slight +figure, well set off by the tight-fitting ulster; she carried her head +proudly, and seemed aristocratic to her finger-tips. + +"I should have known you anywhere, Mr. Purling," she went on, without +a pause. "You are so like your dear mother. You have the same eyes." + +It was a wonder she did not use the adjective "sweet"; for her tone +clearly implied that she admired them. + +"I hear you are desperately and astoundingly clever," she continued, +like the brook flowing on for ever. "They tell me your pamphlet on +vivisection was quite masterly. How proud you must be, Mrs. Purling, +to hear such civil things said of his books!" + +"Do you take sugar?" Harold asked, as he put a cup of tea into a hand +exquisitely gloved. + +She looked up at him sharply, but failed to detect any satire behind +his words. + +Harold thought that there was too much sugar and butter about her +altogether. Even thus early he felt antipathetic; yet, when they were +seated at dinner, and had an opportunity of observing her at leisure, +he could not deny that she was handsome, in a striking, queenly sort +of way; but he thought her complexion was too pale, and, at times, +when off her guard, a worn-out, harassed look came over her face, and +a tinge of melancholy clouded her dark eyes. But it was not easy to +find her off her guard. The unceasing strife of several seasons had +taught her to keep all the world at sword-point; she was armed +_cap-à-pie_, and ready always to fight with a clever woman's keenest +weapons--her eyes and tongue. Upon Harold she used both with +consummate skill; it was clear that she wished to please him, +addressing herself principally to him, asking his opinion on +scientific questions, coached up on purpose, and listening attentively +when he replied. + +"How wise you have been to keep away from town these years! One gets +so sick of the perpetual round." + +"I should have thought it truly delightful," said Mrs. Purling, who, +of course, took the unknown for the magnificent. + +"Any honest labour would be preferable." + +"Turn lady-help; that's my mother's common advice." + +"Harold, how dare you suggest such a thing to Miss Fanshawe? Do you +know she is a peer's daughter?" + +"I thought you said housework would do for the daughters of kings; and +you have proposed it to our cousin, Dolly Dri--" + +"Were you at Ryde this year, Phillipa?" asked Mrs. Purling, promptly. + +"No--at Cowes. We were yachting. Dreary business, don't you think, Mr. +Purling?" + +"I rather like it." + +"Yes, if you have a pleasant party and an object. But mere +cruising"--Miss Fanshawe was quick at shifting her ground. + +"And you are going to Scotland?" + +"Probably; and then for a round of visits. Dear, dear, how I loathe +it all! I had far rather stay with you." + +The heiress smiled gratefully. It was, indeed, the dearest wish of her +heart that Phillipa should stay with her for good and all, and she was +at no pains to conceal the fact. To Phillipa she spoke with +diffidence, doubting whether this great personage could condescend to +favour her son. But there was no lack of frankness in the old lady's +speech. + +"If you and he would only make a match of it!" + +Miss Fanshawe squeezed Mrs. Purling's hand affectionately. + +"I like him, I confess. More's the pity. I'm sure he detests me." + +"As if it were possible!" + +"Trust a girl to find out whether she's appreciated. Mr. Purling, for +my sins, positively dislikes me; or else he has seen some one already +to whom he has given his heart." + +Mrs. Purling shook her head sadly, remembering artful Dolly Driver. + +"You do not know all your son's secrets; no mother does." + +"I do know this one, I fear." + +And then Mrs. Purling described the absurd mistake in identity. + +"You are not angry?" she went on. "For my part, I was furious. But +nothing shall come of it, I solemnly declare. Harold will hardly risk +my serious displeasure; but he shall know that, sooner than accept +this creature as my daughter, I would banish him for ever from my +sight." + +"It will not come to that, I trust," said Phillipa, earnestly, and +with every appearance of good faith. + +"Not if you will help me, as I know you will." + +Mrs. Purling was resolved now to issue positive orders for Harold to +marry Miss Fanshawe--out of hand. But next day Phillipa suddenly +announced her intention of returning to town. + +"You promised to stay at least a month." The heiress was in tears. + +"I am heartily sorry; but Cæcilia--Lady Gayfeather--is ill and alone. +I must go to her at once." + +"You have a feeling heart, Phillipa. This is a sacred duty; I cannot +object. But I shall see you again?" + +"As soon as I can return, dear Mrs. Purling--if you will have me, that +is to say." + +The story of Lady Gayfeather's illness was a mere fabrication. What +summoned Phillipa to London was this note: + +"I _must_ see you. Can you be at Cæcilia's on Saturday?--G." + +Phillipa sat alone in Lady Gayfeather's drawing-room, when Mr. +Jillingham was announced. + +"What does this mean?" she asked. + +"I'm broke, simply." + +"You don't look much like it." + +To say the truth, he did not; he never did. He had had his ups and +downs; but if he was down he hid away in outer darkness; if you saw +him at all, he was floating like a jaunty cork on the very top of the +wave. He was a marvel to everyone; it was a mystery how he lasted so +long. Money went away from him as rain runs off the oiled surface of a +shiny mackintosh coat. And yet he had always plenty of it; eclipses he +might know, but they were partial; collapse might threaten, but it was +always delayed. He had still the best dinners, the best cigars, the +best brougham; was _bien vu_ in the best society: had the best +boot-varnish in London, and wore the most curly-brimmed hats, the envy +of every hatter but his own. To all outward seeming there was no more +fortunate prosperous man about town; the hard shifts to which he had +been put at times were known only to himself--and to one other man, +who had caught him tripping once, and found his account in the fact. +The pressure this man excited drove Gilly Jillingham nearly to +despair. He was really on the brink of ruin at this moment, although +he stood before Phillipa as reckless and defiant as when he had first +won her girlish affections, and thrown them carelessly on one side. + +"How can I help you?" asked Phillipa, when he had repeated his news. + +"I never imagined you could; but you take such an interest in me, I +thought you might like to know." + +"And you have dragged me up to London simply to tell me this?" + +"Certainly. You always took a delight in coming when I called." + +It was evident that he had a strong hold over her. She trembled +violently. + +"Are these lies I hear?" he went on, speaking with mocking emphasis. +"Can it be possible you mean to marry that cub?" + +"Who has been telling you this?" + +"Answer my question." + +"What right have you to ask?" + +"The best. You know it. Have you not been promised to me +since--since--" + +"Well, do you wish me to redeem my promise? I am ready to marry you +now--to-day, if you please. Ruined as you are, reckless, unprincipled, +gambler--I know not what--" + +"That's as well. But I am obliged to you; I will not trespass on your +good-nature. I shall have enough to do to keep myself." + +"We might go to a colony." + +"I can fancy you in the bush!" + +"Anything would be preferable to the false, hollow life I lead. I want +rest. I could pray for it. I long to lay my head peacefully where--" + +"Wherever you please. Try Mr. Purling's shoulder. You have my full +permission." + +Phillipa's eyes flashed fire at this heartless _persiflage_. + +"There is no such luck." + +"Can he dare to be indifferent? How you must hate him!" + +"As I did you." + +"And do still? Thank you. But I wish you joy. When is it to be?" + +"I tell you there is absolutely nothing between us. Mr. Purling is, to +the best of my belief, engaged already." + +"Not with his mother's consent, surely? Why, then, has she made so +much of you?" + +"No; not with her consent; indeed, it is quite against her wish. Mrs. +Purling as much as told me that if her son married this cousin he +would be disinherited. They do not agree very well together now." + +"It's all hers--the old woman's--in her own right?" + +"So far as I know." + +Gilly Jillingham lay back in his chair and mused for a while. + +"It's not a bad game if the cards play true." + +His evil genius, had he been present, might have hinted that sometimes +the cards played for Mr. Jillingham a little too true. + +"Not a bad game. Phillipa, how do you stand with this old beldame?" + +"She pretends the most ardent affection for me." + +"There are no other relatives, no one she would take up if this son +gave unpardonable offence?" + +"Not that I know of. Besides, she calls me her dear daughter already." + +"And would adopt you, doubtless, if the cub were got out of the way. +Yes, it can be done, I believe, and you can do it, Phillipa, if you +please. Only persuade the old lady to make you the heiress of the +Purlings, and there will be an end to your troubles--and mine." + +Soon after this conversation Miss Fanshawe returned to Purlington. The +heiress smothered her with caresses. + +"I shall not let you go away again. We have missed you more than I can +say." + +"And you also, Mr. Harold? Are you glad to see me again?" + +Harold bowed courteously. + +"Of course; I have been counting the hours to Miss Fanshawe's return." + +"Fibs! I can't believe it." + +By-and-by she came to him. + +"Why cannot we be friends, Mr. Purling? It pains me to be hated as you +hate me." + +"You are really quite mistaken," Harold began. + +"I am ready to prove my friendship. I know all about Miss +Driver--there!" + +"Do you know where she is at this present moment?" Harold asked, +eagerly. + +"You really wish to know? Your mother will tell me, I daresay. How +hard hit you must be! But there is my hand on it. You shall have all +the help that I can give." + +Next day she told him. + +"Miss Driver is at Harbridge." + +"In service?" + +"No; at home. They live there. Her father is a Custom-house officer." + +That evening Harold informed his mother that important business called +him away. She remonstrated. How could he leave the house while Miss +Fanshawe was still there? What was the business? At least he might +tell his mother; or it might wait. She could not allow him to leave. + +Mere waste of words; Harold was off next morning to Harbridge, and +Phillipa reported progress to her co-conspirator. + +"It promises well," said Gilly. "I may be able to muzzle that +scoundrel after all." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +A quaint old red-sandstone town; the river-harbour crowded with small +craft, but now and again, like a Triton among the minnows, a +timber-brig or a trading-barque driven in by stress of weather. When +the tide went out--as it did seemingly with no intention of coming +back, it went so far--the long level sands were spotted with groups of +fisherfolk, who dug with pitchforks for sand-eels; while in among the +rocks an army of children gleaned great harvests of a kind of seaweed, +which served for food when times were hard. + +These rocks were the seaward barrier and break-water of the little +port, and did their duty well when, as now, they were tried by the +full force of a westerly gale. It is blowing great guns; the hardy +sheep that usually browse upon the upland slopes must starve perforce +to-day--they cannot stand upon the steep incline; the cocks and hens +of the cottagers take refuge to leeward of their homes; every gust is +laden with atoms of sand or stone, which strike like hail or small +shot upon the face. See how the waves dash in at the outlying rocks, +hurrying onward like blood-hounds in full cry, scuffling, struggling, +madly jostling one another in eagerness to be first in the fray; +joining issue with tremendous crash, only to be spent, broken, +dissipated into thin air. Overhead the sky changes almost with the +speed of the blast; sometimes the sun winks from a corner of the +leaden clouds and tinges with glorious light the foam-bladders as they +burst and scatter around their clouds of spray; in between the +headlands the sea is churned into creaming froth, as though the +housewives of the sea-gods with unwearying arms were whipping "trifle" +for some tremendous bridal-feast. + +The houses at Harbridge mostly faced the shore, but all had stone +porches, and the doors stood not in front, but at one side. The modest +cottage which Mr. Driver called his own was like the rest; but as he +enters, for all his care, a keen knife-edged gust of the pushing wind +precedes him and announces his return. Next instant the little lobby +is filled: a bevy of daughters, the good house-mother, one or two +youngsters dragging at his legs, everyone eager to welcome the +breadwinner home. They divest him of his wraps, soothing him the while +with that tender loving solicitude a man finds only at his own happy +hearth. + +He unfolds his budget of news: a lugger driven by stress of weather +upon the Castle Rock; suspicions of smuggling among the rough beyond +Langness Cove; Dr. Holden's new partner arrived last night. + +"I have asked him to come up this evening. A decent sort of chap." + +Forthwith they fired a volley of questions. Was he old or young, +married or single? had he blue eyes or brown? and how was he called? + +To all papa makes shift to reply. The name he had forgotten, also the +colour of his hair; but the fellow had eyes and two arms and two legs; +he did not squint; had a pleasant address and all the appearance of an +unmarried man. + +"How could you see that, wise father?" asked Doll. + +"He looked so sheepish when I mentioned my daughters. Doubtless he had +heard of you, Miss Doll, and of your dangerous wiles." + +She pinched his ear. They were excellent friends, were father and +eldest daughter. Mr. Driver, a scholar and a man of letters, who had +been thankful to exchange an uncertain footing upon the lower rungs of +the ladder of literature for a small post under Government, had for +years devoted his talents to the education of the children. In Dolly, +as his most apt pupil, he took a peculiar pride. + +"Come in, doctor!" cried Mr. Driver that night. "We are all dying, but +only to make your acquaintance." + +The new visitor was checked at the very threshold by Dolly's cry-- + +"Mr. Purling!" + +And Harold stood confessed to his cousins without a chance of further +disguise. + +"Cousin Harold, you mean," he said, as he offered Dolly his hand. + +She tried hard to hide her blushes; and then and there Mrs. Driver, +after the manner of mothers, built up a great castle in the air, which +her husband shook instantly to its foundations by asking +unceremoniously and not without a shade of angry suspicion in his +tone-- + +"Why did you not claim relationship this morning?" + +He disliked the notion of a man stealing into his house under false +colours. + +"I waited for you to speak. You heard my name." + +"I did not catch it clearly. Besides, I had never heard of you. None +of us have. Your mother did not choose to recognise the relationship." + +"She called you a tide-waiter," said his wife indignantly. + +"At least I'm not a white-tied waiter," cried Mr. Driver, with a +laugh, in which all joined. Then in low voice Dolly said-- + +"I met Mr. Purling at Purlington." + +At which her father turned upon her with newly-raised suspicion. Why +had she not mentioned the fact before? But something in Mrs. Driver's +face deterred him. A woman in these matters sees how the land lies, +while the cleverest man is still unable to distinguish it from the +clouds upon the horizon-line. + +"We are pleased to know you, Harold," said Mrs. Driver, a gentle, +soft-voiced motherly person. + +"You have really come to practise here?" went on the father, still +rather on his guard. + +"I wanted sea-air. The change will do me good," replied Harold, rather +evasively. "I like the place, too." + +Not a doubt of it. Harbridge was after his own heart, and so were some +people who lived in it. He found it so much to his taste that he +declared within a week or two that he thought of remaining there +altogether. He would go into partnership with the local doctor; +perhaps he had another partnership also in his eye. + +"Can't you see what's going on under your nose, father?" asked Mrs. +Driver. + +"What do I care? I shall not interfere." + +"Mrs. Purling will never give her consent. Poor Doll!" + +"_That_ for Mrs. Purling and her consent!" said Mr. Driver, snapping +his fingers. "Doll is ever so much too good for them--well, not for +him; he is an honest, straightforward fellow: but as for that selfish, +silly, purse-proud old woman, she may thank Heaven if she gains a +daughter like Doll." + +That this was not Mrs. Purling's view of the question was plainly +evident from a letter which awoke Harold rather rudely from his rosy +dreams. + +"So at length I have found you out, Harold. I never dreamt you could +be so deceitful and double-faced. To talk of clinical lectures in +town, and all the time at Harbridge, philandering with that forward, +intriguing girl! Only with the greatest difficulty have I succeeded in +learning the truth. Phillipa--who, it seems, has known your secret all +along, and to whom, I find, you have constantly written--could not +continue indifferent to my distress of mind. Although she has shielded +you so far with a magnanimity that is truly heroic, she has interposed +at length only to save my life. + +"I desire you will come to me at once. Do not disobey me, Harold. I am +very seriously displeased, and will only consent to forgive the past +when I find you ready to bend your stubborn heart to obey my will." + +Harold started at once for home. He hoped rather against hope that he +might talk his mother over; but her aspect was not encouraging when he +met her face to face. + +No tragedy-queen could have assumed more scorn. Mrs. Purling, having +thrown herself into several attitudes, fell at length into a chair. + +"I never thought it," she said; "not from my own and only child. The +serpent's tooth hath not such fangs, such power to sting, as the base +ingratitude of one undutiful boy. But this fills the cup. I have done +with you--for ever, unless you give me your sacred word of honour now, +at this minute, never to speak to Dolly Driver again." + +"Such a promise would be quite impossible under any circumstances, but +I distinctly refuse to give it--upon compulsion." + +"Then you have fair warning. Not one penny of my money shall you ever +possess. I will never see you again." + +"I sincerely trust the last is only an empty threat, my dearest +mother." + +She made a gesture as though she were not to be beguiled by soft +words. + +"As for the money, it matters little. Thank God, I have my +profession." + +"At which you will starve." + +"By which I shall earn my bread as my father did. Besides, I can fall +back upon the reputation of the Family Pills." + +"I see you wish to goad me beyond endurance, Harold. Go!" + +"For good and all?" + +"Yes; except on the one alternative. Will you give up this idiotic +passion? You refuse. It is on your own head, then. Go--go till I send +for you, which will be never!" + +Harold went without another word--to Harbridge, overcame Dolly's +scruples, secured the practice, and within a month was married and +settled. + +Mrs. Purling, in Phillipa's presence, made a great parade of burning +her will. + +"He has brought it all on himself, unnatural boy! But you, darling +Phillipa, will never treat me thus. _Noblesse oblige._ The bright blue +blood that fills your veins would curdle at a _mésalliance_, I know." + +Mrs. Purling was quite calm and self-possessed, while Miss Fanshawe, +strange to say, seemed agitated enough for both. Her hands trembled, +she looked away; only with positive repugnance she submitted to her +new mother's affectionate embrace. A woman who is capable of the most +cold-blooded calculating intrigue may yet have an access of remorse. +Phillipa's heart was heavy now at the moment of her triumph. It cost +her more than a passing pang to remember that she had robbed Harold +Purling of his birthright, and had turned to her own base purpose the +foolish cravings of the silly mother's heart. + +But she had put aside self-upbraiding when she met her lover in town. + +"Faith, you are a trump, Phillipa; but it's not much too soon. When +will you take your reward?" + +"Meaning Mr. Jillingham? Is the reward worth taking, I wonder?" For a +moment she held him at bay. "Suppose I were to refuse you now at the +eleventh hour? It is for you to sue. I am not what I was. Mrs. Purling +calls me the heiress of the Purlings, and we may not consider Mr. +Gilbert Jillingham a very eligible _parti_." + +"You dare not refuse me, Phillipa," said Gilly very seriously. "I +should expose your schemes, and we should go to the wall together. No, +there is no escape for you now; our interests are identical." + +"How am I to introduce you upon the scene?" + +"Quite naturally; I shall go and stay at Compton Revel. They will have +me, for your sake, if not for my own. I shall begin _de novo_--at the +very beginning: be smitten, pay you court, win over the heiress, and +propose." + +So it fell out, and they also were married before the end of the +year. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Mean as had been their conduct towards Mrs. Purling and her son, +Phillipa and her husband were not to be classed with common +adventurers of the ordinary type. Born in a lower station, Gilly +Jillingham might have taken honours as a "prig"; in his own with less +luck he might have been an Ishmaelite generally shunned. Phillipa also +might have degenerated into a mere soured cackling hanger-on; but they +were not pariahs by caste, but Brahmins, and entitled to all due +honour so long as they floated on top of the wave. Perhaps if near +drowning no finger would have been outstretched to save; but there +were plenty to pat them on the back as they disported themselves on +the sound dry land. Fair-weather friends and needy relatives rallied +round their prosperity, of course; but they were also accepted as +successful social facts by the whole of that great world which judges +for the most part by appearances, being too idle or too much engrossed +by folly to apply more accurate or searching tests. In good society +those who cared to talk twice of the matter blamed Harold; he was +absent; besides, he had gone to the wall, therefore he must be in the +wrong. On the other hand, the Jillinghams deserved the triumph that is +never denied success. To Gilly prosperous were forgiven the sins of +Gilly in social and moral rags. If scandal like an evil gas had been +let loose to crystallise upon Phillipa's good name, the black stains +could not adhere long to so charming a person, who made the Purling +mansion in Berkeley Square one of the best-frequented and most +fashionable in town. + +There were many reasons why the Jillinghams should find their account +in perpetual junketings. Social excitement was as the breath in +Gilly's nostrils; notorious for profuse expenditure even when he was +penniless, he was now absolutely reckless with money that was +plentiful and moreover not his own. Nor was the constant whirl of +gaieties without its charm for Phillipa; it deadened conscience, and +consoled in some measure for the neglect and indifference she soon +encountered at her husband's hands. But the most potent reason was +that it fooled Mrs. Purling to the top of her bent. Self-satisfaction +beamed upon her ample face as she found herself at length in constant +intercourse and on a social equality--as she thought--with the +potentates and powers and great ones of the earth. Gilly Jillingham in +the days of his apogee had been the spoiled favourite of more than one +titled dame; his success must have been great, to measure it by the +envy and hatred he evoked among his fellowmen--even when in the cold +shade there were duchesses who fought for him still; and now, when +once more in full blossom, all his fair friends were ready to pet him +as of old. The form in which their kindness pleased him best--because +it was most to his advantage--was in making much of Mrs. Purling. +Great people have the knack of putting those whom they patronise on +the very best terms with themselves; and Mrs. Purling was so convinced +of her success as a leader of fashion that she would have asked for a +peerage in her own right, taking for arms three pills proper upon a +silver field, if she could have been certain that these honours would +not descend to her recreant son. + +Whether or not, as time passed, she was absolutely happy, she did not +pause to inquire. The devotion of her newly-adopted children was so +unstinting, and they kept her so continually busy, that she had not +time for self-reproach. It was a disappointment to her that the +Jillinghams had no prospect of a family, and her chagrin would have +been increased had she known that already a boy and girl had been born +to the rightful heirs at Harbridge. But such news was carefully kept +from her; she was rigorously cut off from all communication with her +son. There was no safety otherwise against mischance; the strange +processes of the old creature's mind were inscrutable; she might in +one spasm of an awakened conscience undo all. For the Jillinghams were +still absolutely dependent upon her; she could turn them out of house +and home whenever she pleased. A small settlement was all the real +property Phillipa had secured. Although with right royal generosity +Mrs. Purling gave her favourites a liberal allowance, and promised +them everything when she was gone, yet was she like a crustacean in +the tenacity of her grip upon her own. This close-fistedness was +exceedingly distasteful to Mr. Jillingham. He had an appetite for gold +not easily appeased, and four or five thousand a year was to him but a +mouthful to be swallowed at one gulp. + +Openly of course he continued on his best behaviour, but behind the +scenes he permitted himself to grumble loudly at the old lady's +meanness and miserly ways. + +"I cannot understand you, Gilbert. I cannot see what you do with all +the money you get," said Phillipa reproachfully one day when they were +alone, and Gilly was enlarging upon his favourite theme. "You live at +free quarters, you have no expenses and ought to have no debts." + +"Have you no debts, pray?" + +"None that you are ignorant of." + +"Look here, Phillipa; listen to me. I spend what I please, how I +please. I shall give no account of it to you, nor to any one else in +the world." + +"It is not necessary. I had rather not be told. I do not care to +know," said Phillipa, womanlike, forgetting that she had begun by +wishing to be informed. She had her own suspicions, but forbore to +question further, lest she might be brought face to face with the +outrages she feared he put upon her. + +"She will take to counting the potatoes next. It's most contemptible. +A mean old brute--" + +"I shall not listen to you, Gilbert. You owe her everything." + +"Do I? I wonder what my tailor would say to that or Reuben Isaac +Melchisedec? I've more than one creditor; they are a prolific and, I +am sorry to say, a long-lived race." + +"I hope Mrs. Purling may live to be a hundred years at least--" + +"I don't. I'd rather she was choked by one of those pills you tell me +she takes every morning and night." + +There was something in his tone which made Phillipa look at him hard. +Was it possible that he contemplated any terrible wickedness? The mere +apprehension made her blood run cold. + +"O Gilly, swear to me that you will not harbour evil thoughts, that +you will put aside the devil who is prompting and luring you to some +awful crime!" + +"Psha, Phillipa, you ought to have gone into the Church. Moderate your +transports--here comes one of the footmen." + +"A person to see you, sir," said the servant. "He 'aven't got any +card, but his business is very particular." + +"I can't see him; send him away. If he won't go call the police." + +"Says his name, sir, is Shubenacady." + +"Take him to the library; I'll come." + +Jillingham's face was rather pale, and his lips were set firm when he +met his visitor. + +"What the mischief do you want?" + +"Five thou--ten--what you please. I know of a splendid investment." + +"In soap?" + +He was the dirtiest creature that ever was seen. He wore a full suit +of black, but the coat and trousers were white with age and +dust-stains; an open waistcoat, exposing an embroidered shirt which +could not have been washed for months; his hat was napless, and had a +limp brim; no gloves, and the grimiest of hands. But he was decorated, +and wore a ribbon, probably of St. Lucifer. + +"In soap, or shavings, or shoddy; what does it matter to you? When can +I have the money?" + +"Never; not another sixpence." + +"Then I shall publish all I know." + +"No one will believe you." + +"I have proofs." + +"Which are forged. I tell you I'm too strong for you: you will find +yourself in the wrong box. I am sick of this; and I mean to put an end +to your extortion." + +"You dare me. You know the consequences." + +"The first consequence will be that I shall give you in charge. Be +off!" + +"You shall have a week to think better of it." + +Gilly rang the bell. + +"Shall I send for a policeman, or will you go?" + +He went, muttering imprecations intermixed with threats; but Gilly +Jillingham, quite proud of his courage, seemed for the moment callous +to both. He little dreamt how soon the latter would be put into +effect. + +Within a few days of this interview the greatest event of Mrs. +Purling's whole social career was due; she was to entertain royalty +beneath her own roof. This crowning of the edifice of her ambition +filled her with solemn awe; the preparations for the coming ball were +stupendous, her own magnificent costume seemed made up of diamonds and +bullion and five-pound notes. + +Long before the hour of reception she might have been seen pacing to +and fro with stately splendour, contemplating the daïs erected for +royalty at one end of the room, and thinking with a glow of +satisfaction that the representative of the Purlings had at last come +to her own. At this supreme moment she was grateful to dear Phillipa +and to Gilbert little less dear. + +Then guests began to pour in. Where was Phillipa? Very late; she might +have dressed earlier. A servant was sent to call her, and Phillipa, +hurrying down, met Gilly on the upper floor coming out of Mrs. +Purling's bedroom. + +"What have you been doing there?" she asked. + +"Mrs. Purling wanted a fan," said Gilly readily. + +She might want one fan, but hardly two; and had Phillipa been less +flurried she might have noticed that Mrs. Purling had one already in +her hand. But then their Royal Highnesses arrived; the heiress made +her curtsey for the first time in her life, was graciously received, +and the hour of her apotheosis had actually come. Presently the crowd +became so dense that every inch of space was covered; people +overflowed on to the landings, and sat four or five deep upon the +stairs. Dancing was simply impossible; however, hundreds of couples +went through the form. Phillipa, as in duty bound, remained in the +thick of the _mêlée_, but Gilly had very early disappeared. He +preferred the card-room; his waltzing days were over, he said. He was +playing; it was not very good taste, but there were some men who +preferred a quiet rubber to looking at princes or the antics of boys +and girls, and he wished to oblige his friends. + +"Can you give me a moment, Le Grice?" said Lord Camberwell, coming +into the card-room. "I have had a most extraordinary letter. It +accuses Gilly Jillingham--" + +"God bless my soul," cried old Colonel Le Grice, "a letter of the same +sort has been sent to me!" + +"Have you had any suspicion that he played unfairly?" + +"Not the slightest; I know he always holds the most surprising hands, +that he plays for very high stakes, that he nearly always wins--" + +"Is he winning now?" + +Of course. Mr. Jillingham's luck never deserted him. He was trying now +perhaps to make at one coup sufficient to silence for a further space +his enemy's tongue; the bets upon the odd trick alone amounted to a +thousand or more. But he was too late. His hour had come. + +Suddenly Lord Camberwell spoke in a loud peremptory voice: + +"Stop! Mr. Jillingham is cheating. He does it in the deal. I have +watched him now for three rounds." + +"And so have I," added Colonel Le Grice. + +Gilly sprang to his feet. For a moment he seemed disposed to brazen it +out; then he read his sentence in the face of those who had detected +and now judged him. There was no appeal: he was doomed. From +henceforth he was socially and morally dead, and, without a word, he +slunk away from the house. + +The buzz of the ball-room soon caught up the ugly scandal, and tossed +it wildly from lip to lip. "Mr. Jillingham caught cheating at cards!" +Everyone said, of course, they had suspected it all along; now every +one knew it as a fact, except those most nearly concerned. To them it +came last. To Phillipa, whose heart it stabbed as with a knife, cut +through and through; then to Mrs. Purling, who, a little taken aback +by the sudden exodus of her guests, asked innocently what it meant, +upon which some one, without knowing who she was, told her the exact +truth. + +Quite stunned by the terrible shock, dazed, terrified, was the +heiress, scarcely capable of comprehending what had occurred. Then +with a sad, scared face, motioning Phillipa on one side, who, equally +white and grief-stricken, would have helped her, she crept slowly +upstairs, feeling that at one blow the whole fabric of her social +repute was tumbled in the dust. + +The lights were out, the play was over, the house still and silent, +when, with loud shrieks, Mrs. Purling's maid rushed to Phillipa's +room. + +"Mrs. Purling, ma'am!--my mistress, she is dying! Come to her! She is +nearly gone!" + +In truth, the poor old woman was in the extremest agony; it was quite +terrible to see her. She gasped as if for air; her whole frame jerked +and twitched with the violence of her convulsions; gradually her body +was drawn in a curve, like that of a tensely-strung bow. + +The spasms abated, then recommenced; abated, then raged with increased +fury. But through it all she was conscious; she had even the power of +speech, and cried aloud again and again, with a bitter heart-wrung +cry, for "Harold! Harold!" the absent much-wronged son. + +"The symptoms are those of tetanus," said the nearest medical +practitioner, who had been called in. He seemed fairly puzzled. +"Tetanus or--" He did not finish the sentence, because the single +word that was on his lips formed a serious charge against a person or +persons unknown. "But there is nothing to explain lock-jaw; while the +abatement of the symptoms points to--" Again he paused. + +The muscles of the mouth, which had been the last attacked, gradually +resumed their normal condition. The patient appeared altogether more +easy, the writhings subsided; presently, as if utterly exhausted, she +sank off to sleep. + +Harold Purling had come up post-haste from Harbridge; and when the +mother opened her eyes they rested upon her son. + +A hurried consultation passed in whispers between the two doctors. +Phillipa was present; she and the maid had not left Mrs. Purling all +night. + +"Mother," said Harold, "you are out of all danger. Tell me--do you +recollect taking anything likely to make you ill?" + +"Only the pills." She pointed to the family medicine--a box of which +stood always by her bedside. She had some curious notion that it was +her duty to show belief in the Primeval Pills, and she made a practice +of swallowing two morning and night. + +Harold opened the box; examined the pills; finally put one into his +mouth and bit it through. Bitter as gall. + +"They have been tampered with," he said. "These contain strychnia. You +have had a narrow escape of being poisoned, dearest mother--poisoned +by your own Pills!" + +He half smiled at the conceit. + +"There has been foul play, I swear. It shall be sifted to the bottom, +and the guilty called to serious account." + +But the mystery was never solved. If Phillipa had in her heart +misgivings, she kept her suspicions to herself; no one accused her; +there seemed explanation for her cowed and trembling manner in Gilly's +downfall and disgrace. The man himself never reappeared openly; only +now and again he swooped down and robbed Phillipa of all she, +possessed--the thrift of her allowance from Mrs. Purling. + +As for the heiress, surrounded by the real love and warm hearts of her +lineal descendants, she was satisfied to eschew all further +acquaintance with people of the Blue Blood. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE BLOOD*** + + +******* This file should be named 17434-8.txt or 17434-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/4/3/17434 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood</p> +<p>Author: Arthur Griffiths</p> +<p>Release Date: December 31, 2005 [eBook #17434]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE BLOOD***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE THIN RED LINE.</h1> +<p> </p> +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ARTHUR GRIFFITHS,</h2> +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF "THE CHRONICLES OF NEWGATE," "FAST AND LOOSE,"<br /> +ETC., ETC.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><b>IN TWO VOLUMES.</b></p> +<p> </p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><b>LONDON: CHAPMAN <span class="smcap">and</span> HALL<br /> +Limited<br /> +1886</b></p> + + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<h2>VOL. I</h2> + +<h2>CONTENTS OF VOL. I.</h2> + + +<table summary="Contents"> + + +<tr><td > </td><td class="tocpg" >PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#THE_THIN_RED_LINE">THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_II">ARREST AND INTERROGATION</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_III">THE MOUSETRAP</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">A SPIDER'S WEB</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_V">THE WAR FEVER</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">ON DANGEROUS GROUND</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A SOUTHERN PEARL</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">OFF TO THE WARS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A GENERAL ACTION</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">AFTER THE BATTLE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CATCHING A TARTAR</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">"NOT WAR"</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">THE GOLDEN HORN</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">HARD POUNDING</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">A COSTLY VICTORY</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">A NOVEMBER GALE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">UNCLE AND NEPHEW</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">RED TAPE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XXI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">AGAIN ON THE ROCK</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">MR. HOBSON CALLS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">WAR TO THE KNIFE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">MOTHER CHARCOAL'S</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h2>VOL.II.</h2> +<h2>CONTENTS OF VOL. II.</h2> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_I">SECRET SERVICE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_301">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_II">AMONG THE COSSACKS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_311">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_III">A PURVEYOR OF NEWS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_330">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_IV">IN WHITEHALL</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_341">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_V">MR. FAULKS TALKS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_350">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_VI">MARIQUITA'S QUEST</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_361">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_VII">INSIDE THE FORTRESS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_377">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_VIII">FROM THE DEAD</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_386">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_IX">IN PARIS</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_396">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_X">SUSPENSE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_417">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_XI">AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_428">128</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_XII">IN LINCOLN'S INN</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_438">138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_XIII">HUSBAND AND WIFE</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_446">146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_XIV">THE SCALES REMOVED</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_452">152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#CHAPTER_2_XV">L'ENVOI</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_459">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td > </td><td > </td></tr> +<tr><td ><a href="#BLUE_BLOOD">BLUE BLOOD</a></td> +<td class="tocpg" ><a href="#Page_467">167</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_THIN_RED_LINE" id="THE_THIN_RED_LINE"></a>THE THIN RED LINE.</h2> + +<h2>VOLUME I</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED.</h3> + + +<p>In the Paris of the first half of this century there was no darker, +dingier, or more forbidding quarter than that which lay north of the +Rue de Rivoli, round about the great central market, commonly called +the Halles.</p> + +<p>The worst part of it, perhaps, was the Rue Assiette d'Etain, or +Tinplate Street. All day evil-looking loafers lounged about its +doorways, nodding lazily to the passing workmen, who, blue-bloused, +with silk cap on head, each with his loa under his arm, came to take +their meals at the wine-shop at the corner; or gossiping with the +porters, male and female, while the one followed closely his usual +trade as a cobbler, and the other attended to her soup.</p> + +<p>By day there was little traffic. Occasionally a long dray, on a +gigantic pair of wheels, drawn by a long string of white Normandy +horses in single file, with blue harness and jangling bells, filled up +the road<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>way. Costermongers trundled their barrows along with strange, +unmusical cries. Now and again an empty cab returning to its stable, +with weary horse and semi-somnolent coachman, crawled through the +street.</p> + +<p>But at night it was otherwise. Many vehicles came dashing down +Tinplate Street: carriages, public and private, of every variety, from +the rattletrap cab hired off the stand, or the decent coach from the +livery stable, to the smart spick-and-span brougham, with its +well-appointed horses and servants in neat livery. They all set down +at the same door, and took up from it at any hour between midnight and +dawn, waiting patiently in file in the wide street round the corner, +till the summons came as each carriage was required.</p> + +<p>As seen in the daytime, there was nothing strange about the door, or +the house to which it gave access. The place purported to be an +hotel—a seedy, out-at-elbows, seemingly little-frequented hotel, +rejoicing in the altogether inappropriate name of the Hôtel Paradis, +or the Paradise Hotel. Its outward appearance was calculated to repel +rather than invite customers; no one would be likely to lodge there +who could go elsewhere. It had habitually a deserted look, with all +its blinds and casements close shut, as though its lodgers slept +through the day, or had gone away, never to return.</p> + +<p>But this was only by day. At night the street-door stood wide open, +and a porter was on duty at the foot of the staircase within. He was +on the inner side of a stout oaken door, in which was a small window, +opening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> with a trap. Through this he reconnoitred all arrivals, +taking stock of their appearance, and only giving admission when +satisfied as to what he saw.</p> + +<p>The Hôtel Paradis, in plain English, was a gambling-house, largely +patronised, yet with an evil reputation. It was well known to, and +constantly watched by, the police, who were always at hand, although +they seldom interfered with the hotel.</p> + +<p>But when the porter's wife came shrieking into the street early one +summer's morning, with wildest terror depicted in her face, and +shaking like a jelly, the police felt bound to come to the front.</p> + +<p>"Has madame seen a ghost?" asked a stern official in a cocked hat and +sword, accosting her abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No, no! Fetch the commissary, quick! A crime has been committed—a +terrible crime!" she gasped.</p> + +<p>This was business, and the police-officer knew what he had to do.</p> + +<p>"Run, Jules," he said to a colleague. "You know where M. Bontoux +lives. Tell him he is wanted at the Hôtel Paradis." Then, turning to +the woman, he said, "Now, madame, explain yourself."</p> + +<p>"It is a murder, I am afraid. A gentleman has been stabbed."</p> + +<p>"What gentleman? Where?"</p> + +<p>"In the drawing-room, upstairs. I don't know his name, but he came +here frequently. My husband will perhaps be able to tell you; he is +there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lead on," said the police-officer; "take me to the place. I will see +to it myself."</p> + +<p>They passed into the hotel through the inner portal, and up the stairs +to the first floor, where the principal rooms were situated—three of +them furnished and decorated magnificently, altogether out of keeping +with the miserable exterior of the house, having enormous mirrors from +ceiling to floor, gilt cornices, damask hangings, marble console +tables, and chairs and sofas in marqueterie and buhl. The first room +evidently served for reception; there was a sideboard in one corner, +on which were the remains of a succulent repast, and dozens of empty +bottles. The second and third rooms were more especially devoted to +the business of the establishment. Long tables, covered with green +cloth, filled up the centre of each, and were strewed with cards, dice +and their boxes, croupier's rakes, and other implements of gaming.</p> + +<p>The third room had been the scene of the crime. There upon the floor +lay the body of a man, a well-dressed man, wearing the white +kerseymere trousers, the light waistcoat, and long-tailed green coat +which were then in vogue. His clothes were all spotted and bedrabbled +with gore; his shirt was torn open, and plainly revealed the great +gaping wound from which his life's blood was quickly ebbing away.</p> + +<p>The wounded man's head rested on the knee of the night porter, a +personage wearing a kind of livery, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> strongly built, +truculent-looking villain, whose duties, no doubt, comprised the +putting of people out as well as the letting them into the house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Anatole! my cherished one!" began the porter's wife. "Here are +the police. Tell us then, how this occurred."</p> + +<p>"I will tell all I know," replied her husband, looking at the +police-officer. "This morning, when the clients had nearly all gone, +and I was sitting half asleep in the lodge, I heard—"</p> + +<p>"Stop," said the police-officer, "not another word. Keep all you have +to say for the commissary. He is already on the stairs."</p> + +<p>The next minute M. Bontoux entered, accompanied by his clerk and the +official doctor of the quarter.</p> + +<p>"A crime," said the commissary, slowly, and with as much dignity as +was possible in a middle-aged gentleman pulled from his bed at +daybreak, and compelled to dress in a hurry. "A crime," he repeated. +"Of that there can be no doubt. But let us establish the fact +formally. Where are the witnesses?"</p> + +<p>The porter, having relinquished the care of the wounded man to the +doctor, stood up slowly and saluted the commissary.</p> + +<p>"Very well; tell us what you know. Sit down"—this to the clerk. +"Produce your writing-materials and prepare the report."</p> + +<p>"It must have been about four this morning, but I was very drowsy, and +the gentlemen had nearly all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> gone," said the night porter, speaking +fluently, "when I was disturbed by the noise of a quarrel, a fight, up +here in the principal drawing-room. While I was still rubbing my eyes, +for I was very drowsy, and fancied I was dreaming, I heard a scream, a +second, and a third, followed by a heavy fall on the floor. I rushed +upstairs then, and found this poor gentleman as you see him."</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"Quite alone."</p> + +<p>"But there must have been other people here. Did they come down the +stairs past you?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; they must have escaped by that window. It was open—"</p> + +<p>The commissary looked at the police-officer, who nodded intelligently.</p> + +<p>"I had already noticed it, Mr. Commissary. The window gives upon a low +roof, which communicates with the back street. Escape would be quite +easy from that side."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the commissary, "and you found this gentleman? Do you +know him? His name? Have you ever seen him before?"</p> + +<p>"He is M. le Baron d'Enot; he is a constant visitor at the house. Very +fortunate, I believe, and I heard he won largely last night."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the commissary. This fact was important, as affording a +reason for the crime. "And do you suspect any one? Have you any idea +who was here at the last?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I scarcely noticed the gentlemen as they went away; it would be +impossible for me, therefore, to say who remained."</p> + +<p>"Then there is no clue—"</p> + +<p>"Hush! Mr. Commissary." It was the doctor's exclamation. "The victim +is still alive, and is trying, I think, to speak." Evidence given at +the point of death has extreme value in every country, under every +kind of law. The commissary therefore bent his head, closely attentive +to catch any words the dying man might utter.</p> + +<p>"Water! water!" he gasped out. "Revenge me; it was a foul and cowardly +blow."</p> + +<p>"Who struck you, can you tell us? Do you know him?" inquired the +commissary, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I—know—" The voice grew visibly weaker; it sank into a +whisper, and could speak only in monosyllables.</p> + +<p>"His name—quick!"</p> + +<p>"There—were—three—I had no chance—Gas—coigne—"</p> + +<p>"Strange name—not French?"</p> + +<p>The dying man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Gasc—tell—Engl—"</p> + +<p>It was the last supreme effort. With a long, deep groan, the poor +fellow fell back dead.</p> + +<p>"How unfortunate!" cried the commissary, "to die just when he would +have told us all. These few words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> will scarcely suffice to identify +the murderers. Can any one help us?"</p> + +<p>M. Bontoux looked round.</p> + +<p>"The name he mentioned I know," said the night-porter, quickly. "This +M. Gascoigne came here frequently. He is an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"So I gathered from the dead man's words. Do you know his domicile in +Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Rue St. Honoré, Hôtel Versailles and St. Cloud. I have seen him enter +it more than once, with his wife. He has lived there some months."</p> + +<p>"We must, if possible, lay hands on him at once. You, Jules, hasten +with another police-agent to the Rue St. Honoré; he may have gone +straight to his hotel."</p> + +<p>"And if we find him?"</p> + +<p>"Arrest him and take him straight to the Préfecture. I will follow. +There, there! lose no time."</p> + +<p>"I am already gone," said the police-officer as he ran downstairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>ARREST AND INTERROGATION.</h3> + + +<p>The Hôtel Versailles and St. Cloud was one of the best hotels of Paris +at this time, a time long antecedent to the opening of such vast +caravansaries as the Louvre, the Continental, the Athenée, or the +Grand. It occupied four sides of a courtyard, to which access was had +by the usual gateway. The porter's lodge was in the latter, and this +functionary, in sabots and shirt-sleeves, was sweeping out the +entrance when the police arrived in a cab, which they ordered to wait +at the door.</p> + +<p>"M. Gascoigne?" asked the agent.</p> + +<p>"On the first floor, number forty-three," replied the porter, without +looking up. "Monsieur has but just returned," he went on. "Knock +gently, or you may disturb him in his first sleep."</p> + +<p>"We shall disturb him in any case," said the police-officer, gruffly. +"Justice cannot wait."</p> + +<p>"The police!" cried the porter, now recognising his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> visitors for the +first time. "What has happened, in Heaven's name?"</p> + +<p>"Stand aside; we have no time to gossip," replied the agent, as he +passed on.</p> + +<p>The occupant of No. 43 upon the first floor was pacing his room with +agitated steps—a young man with fair complexion and light curly hair; +but his blue eyes were clouded, and his fresh, youthful face was drawn +and haggard. His attire, too—English, like his aspect—was torn and +dishevelled, his voluminous neckcloth was disarranged, his waistcoat +had lost several buttons, and there were stains—dark purple +stains—upon sleeves and smallclothes.</p> + +<p>"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she +has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the +door of the Vaudeville—the bed has not been slept in. Can she have +gone? Is it possible that she has left me?"</p> + +<p>He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just +when I—Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at +the door.</p> + +<p>"Open, in the name of the law!"</p> + +<p>"The police here already! What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"Open at once, or we shall force the door."</p> + +<p>The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two +police-agents.</p> + +<p>"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal—we +arrest you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On what charge?"</p> + +<p>"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough. +Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?"</p> + +<p>"Of what am I accused?"</p> + +<p>"You will hear in good time. Isidore, where is your rope?"</p> + +<p>His colleague produced the long thin cord that serves instead of +handcuffs in France.</p> + +<p>"Must we tie you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I am ready to submit, but under protest. You shall answer for +this outrage. I am an Englishman. I will appeal to our ambassador."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart! We are not afraid. But enough said. Come."</p> + +<p>The three—police-agents and their prisoner—went out together. On the +threshold of No. 43 the officer named Jules said—</p> + +<p>"Your key, monsieur—the key of your room. I will take charge of it. +Monsieur the Judge will no doubt make a searching perquisition, and no +one must enter it till then."</p> + +<p>The door was locked, M. Jules put the key in his pocket, and the party +went down to the cab, which was driven off rapidly to the depôt of the +Préfecture.</p> + +<p>Here the usual formalities were gone through. Rupert Gascoigne, as the +Englishman was called, was interrogated, searched, deprived of money, +watch, penknife, and pencil-case; his description was noted down, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +then he was asked whether he would go into the common prison, or pay +for the accommodation of the <i>pistole</i> or private "side."</p> + +<p>For sixteen sous daily they gave him a room to himself, with a little +iron cot, a chair, and a table. Another franc or two got him his +breakfast and dinner, and he was allowed to enjoy them with such +appetite as he could command.</p> + +<p>No one came near him till next morning, when he was roused from the +heavy sleep that had only come to him after dawn by a summons to +appear before the <i>Juge d'instruction</i>.</p> + +<p>He was led by two policemen to a little room, barely furnished, with +one great bureau, or desk, in the centre, at which sat the judge, his +back to the window. On one side of him was a smaller desk for the +clerk, and exactly opposite a chair for the accused, so arranged that +the light beat full upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said the judge, abruptly.</p> + +<p>He was a stern-looking man, dressed all in black, still young, with a +cold and impassive face, the extreme pallor of which was heightened by +his close-cut, coal-black hair, and his small, piercing, beady black +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Your name and nationality?"</p> + +<p>"Rupert Gascoigne. I am an Englishman, and as such I must at once +protest against the treatment I have received."</p> + +<p>"You have been treated in accordance with the law—of France. You must +abide by it, since you choose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> to live here. I do not owe you this +explanation, but I give it to uphold the majesty of the law."</p> + +<p>"I shall appeal to our ambassador."</p> + +<p>The judge waved his hand, as though the threat did not affect him.</p> + +<p>"I must ask you to keep silence. You are here to be interrogated; you +will only speak in reply to my questions."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, during which judge and accused looked hard at each +other; the former seeking to read the other's inmost thoughts, the +latter meeting the gaze with resolute and unflinching eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is your age?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-six."</p> + +<p>"Are you married?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But your wife has left you."</p> + +<p>Gascoigne started in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?" he asked, nervously.</p> + +<p>"It is for me to question. But I know it: that is enough. Your +occupation and position in life?"</p> + +<p>"I am a gentleman, living on my means."</p> + +<p>"It is false." An angry flush rose to Gascoigne's face as the judge +thus gave him the lie. "It is false—you are a professional gambler—a +Greek—a sharper, with no ostensible means!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, monsieur; you are quite misinformed. I could prove to you +----"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It would be useless; the police have long known and watched you."</p> + +<p>"Such espionage is below contempt," cried Gascoigne, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Silence! Do not dare to question the conduct of the authorities. It +is the visit of persons of your stamp to Paris that renders such +precautions necessary."</p> + +<p>"If you believe all you hear from your low agents, with their lying, +scandalous reports—"</p> + +<p>"Be careful, prisoner; your demeanour will get you into trouble. Our +information about you is accurate and trustworthy. Judge for +yourself."</p> + +<p>Gascoigne looked incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Listen; you arrived in Paris three months ago, accompanied by a young +demoiselle whom you had decoyed from her home."</p> + +<p>"She was my wife."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you married her after your arrival here. The official records of +the 21st arrondisement prove that—married her without her parents' +consent."</p> + +<p>"That is not so. They approved."</p> + +<p>"How could they? Your wife's father is French vice-consul at +Gibraltar. Her mother is dead. Neither was present at your marriage; +how, then, could they approve?"</p> + +<p>Gascoigne did not answer.</p> + +<p>"On your first arrival you were well provided with funds—the +proceeds, no doubt, of some nefarious scheme;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> a run of luck at the +tables; the plunder of some pigeon—"</p> + +<p>"The price of my commission in the English Army."</p> + +<p>"Bah! You never were in the English Army."</p> + +<p>"I can prove it."</p> + +<p>"I shall not believe you. Being in funds, I say, you lived riotously, +stayed at one of the best hotels, kept a landau and pair, dined at the +Trois Frères and the Rocher de Cancale, frequented the theatres; +madame wore the most expensive toilettes. But you presently ran short +of cash."</p> + +<p>"It's not surprising. But I presume I was at liberty to do what I +liked with my own."</p> + +<p>"Coming to the end of your resources," went on the judge, coldly +ignoring the sneer, "you tried the gaming-table again, with varying +success. You went constantly to the Hôtel Paradis—"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, occasionally, not often."</p> + +<p>"You were there last night; it is useless to deny it. We have the +deposition of the proprietor, who is well known to the police—M. +Hippolyte Ledantec; you shall be confronted with him."</p> + +<p>"Is he in custody?" asked Gascoigne, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is not your place to question."</p> + +<p>"He ought to be. It was he who committed the murder."</p> + +<p>"You know there was a murder, then? Curious. When the body was +discovered by the porter there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> no one present. How could you know +of the crime unless you had a hand in it?"</p> + +<p>"I saw it committed. I tried my best to save the Baron, but Ledantec +stabbed him before I could interpose."</p> + +<p>"An ingenious attempt to shift the guilt; but it will not serve. We +know better."</p> + +<p>"I am prepared to swear it was Ledantec. Why should I attack the +Baron? I owed him no grudge."</p> + +<p>"Why? I will tell you. For some time past, as I have reminded you, +your funds have been running low, fortune has been against you at the +tables, and you could not correct it at the Hôtel Paradis as you do +with less clever players—"</p> + +<p>"You are taking an unfair advantage of your position, Monsieur le +Juge. Any one else who dared accuse me of cheating—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! no heroics. You could not correct fortune, I say; yet money you +must have. The hotel-keeper was pressing for his long-unpaid account. +Madame, your smart wife, was dissatisfied; she made you scenes because +you refused her money; in return, you ill-used her."</p> + +<p>"It is false! My wife has always received proper consideration at my +hands."</p> + +<p>"You ill-used her, ill-treated her; we have it from herself."</p> + +<p>"Do you know, then, where she is?" interrupted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> Gascoigne, with so +much eagerness that it was plain he had taken his wife's defection +greatly to heart. "Why has she left me? With whom? I have always +suspected that villain Ledantec; he is an arch scoundrel, a very +devil!"</p> + +<p>"The reasons for your wife's disappearance are sufficiently explained +by this letter."</p> + +<p>"To me?" said Gascoigne, stretching out his hand for it.</p> + +<p>"To you, but impounded by us. It was found, in our search of your +apartments yesterday, placed in a prominent place upon your +dressing-table."</p> + +<p>"Give it me—it is mine!"</p> + +<p>"No! but you shall hear what it says. Listen:—</p> + +<p>"'I could have borne with resignation the miserable part you have +imposed upon me. After luring me from my home with dazzling offers, +after promising me a life of luxury and splendid ease, you rudely, +cruelly dispelled the illusion, and made it plain to me that I had +shared the lot of a pauper. All this I could have borne—poverty, +however distasteful, but not the infamy, the degradation, of being the +partner and associate of your evil deeds. Sooner than fall so low I +prefer to leave you for ever. Do not seek for me. I have done with +you. All is at an end between us!'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE MOUSETRAP.</h3> + + +<p>"Well," said the judge, when he had finished reading, "you see what +your wife thinks of you. What do you say now?"</p> + +<p>"There is not a word of truth in that letter. It is a tissue of +misstatements from beginning to end. You must place no reliance upon +it."</p> + +<p>"There you must allow me to differ from you. This letter is, in my +belief, perfectly genuine. It supplies a most important link in the +chain of evidence, and I shall give it the weight it deserves. But +enough—will you still deny your guilt?"</p> + +<p>"It is Ledantec's doing," said Gascoigne, following out a line of +thought of his own. "She was nothing loth, perhaps, for he has been +instilling insidious poison into her ears for these weeks past. I had +my sus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>picions, but could prove nothing; now I know. It was for this, +to put money in his purse for her extravagance, that he first robbed, +then struck down the baron."</p> + +<p>"Why do you still persist in this shallow line of defence? You cannot +deceive me; it would be far better to make a clean breast of it at +once."</p> + +<p>"I have already told you all I know. I repeat, I saw Ledantec strike +the blow."</p> + +<p>"Psha! this is puerile. I will be frank with you. We have the fullest +and strongest evidence of your guilt—why, then, will you not confess +it?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to confess; I am perfectly innocent. I was the poor +man's friend, not his murderer. I tried hard to save him, but, +unhappily, I was too late."</p> + +<p>"You will not confess?"</p> + +<p>A flush of anger rose to Gascoigne's cheek; his eyes flashed with the +indignation he felt at being thus bullied and browbeaten; his lips +quivered, but still he made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Come! you have played this comedy long enough," said the judge, his +manner growing more insolent, his look more threatening. "Will you, or +will you not, confess?"</p> + +<p>Gascoigne met his gaze resolutely, but with a dogged, obstinate +silence, the result of a firm determination not to utter a word.</p> + +<p>"This is unbearable," said the judge, angrily, after having repeated +his question several times without eliciting any reply. "Take him +away! Let him be kept in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> complete isolation, in one of the separate +cells of the Mousetrap—the Souricière."</p> + +<p>At a signal from within the police entered, resumed charge of the +prisoner, and escorted him, by many winding passages, down a steep +staircase to an underground passage, ending in a dungeon-like room, +badly lighted by one small, heavily-barred window, through which no +glimpse of the sky was seen.</p> + +<p>Here he was left alone, and for a long time utterly neglected. No one +came near him till late in the day, when he was brought a basin of +thin soup and a hunch of coarse ammunition bread. He spoke to his +jailers, asking for more and better food, but obtained no reply. He +asked them for paper, pens, and ink; he wished, he said, to make a +full statement of his case to the British Embassy, and demand its +protection. Still no reply. Maddened by this contemptuous treatment, +and despairing almost of justice, he begged, entreated the warder to +take pity on him, to tell him at least how long they meant to keep him +there in such terrible solitude, cut off altogether from the advice +and assistance of friends. The warder shook his head stolidly, and at +length broke silence, but only to say, "It is by superior order," then +left him.</p> + +<p>Gascoigne passed a terrible night, the second night in durance, but +far worse than the first. He was torn now with apprehensions as to his +fate; circumstances seemed so much against him; the facts, as stated +by the judge, might be grossly misrepresented; but how was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> he to +dispute them? There was no justice in this miserable country, with +such a partial and one-sided system of law. He began to fear that his +life was in their hands; already he felt his head on the block, under +the shadow of the awful guillotine.</p> + +<p>Nor were his personal terrors the only nightmare that visited and +oppressed him. He was harassed, tortured, by the shameless conduct of +his wife; of the woman for whom he had sacrificed +everything—profession, fortune, name, the affection of relatives, the +respect of friends. With base, black-hearted perfidy, she had deserted +him for another, had plotted against him, had helped to bring him into +his present terrible straits.</p> + +<p>Once again they awoke him, unrefreshed, from the deep sleep haunted by +such hideous dreams. He was told to dress himself and come out. At the +door of his cell the same escort—two police-agents—awaited him.</p> + +<p>"Where are you taking me? Again before that hateful judge?"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur had better speak more respectfully," replied one of them, in +a warning voice.</p> + +<p>"It is no use, I tell you, his interrogating me. I have nothing more +to say."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" cried the other, "and march."</p> + +<p>They led him along the passage and upstairs, but not, as before, to +the judge's cabinet. Turning aside, they passed on one side of it, and +out into the open air. There was a cab drawn up close to the door, the +prisoner was ordered to get in, one police-agent taking his seat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +alongside, the other mounting on the box. The glasses were drawn up, +and the cab drove rapidly away.</p> + +<p>"Where are you taking me?" asked Gascoigne.</p> + +<p>"You will see," replied his conductor, coldly.</p> + +<p>"To another prison?"</p> + +<p>"Silence! A prisoner is not permitted to enter into conversation with +his guard."</p> + +<p>Thus rebuffed, Gascoigne resigned himself to gazing mournfully through +the windows as the cab rattled along. He did not know this quarter of +Paris well, but he could see that they were passing along one of the +quays of the Ile de la Cité. He could see the houses on the opposite +bank, and knew from the narrowness of the river that it was not the +main stream of the Seine. It was still early morning; the streets were +not as yet very crowded, but as the cab entered a wide square it came +upon a throng issuing from the portals of a large church, the +congregation that had been attending some celebration at Notre Dame. +He recognised the church as he passed it, still driving, however, by +the quays. Then they came to a low building, with a dirty, ill-kept, +unpretentious doorway. The cab passed through into an inner court, +stopped, and Gascoigne was ordered to alight.</p> + +<p>The police-agents, one on each side of him, took him to a rather large +but dirty, squalid-looking room, which might have been part of an +old-clothes shop. All round, hanging from pegs, each neatly ticketed +with its own number, were sets of garments, male and female, of every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +description: rags and velvets, a common blouse and good broadcloth, +side by side.</p> + +<p>At a small common table in the centre of the room sat Gascoigne's +judge, with the same cold face, only darkened now by a frown.</p> + +<p>"Once more," he said, abruptly—"will you confess your crime?"</p> + +<p>Gascoigne looked at him contemptuously, but held his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Do you still refuse? Do you still obstinately persist in remaining +dumb? Very well, we shall see."</p> + +<p>The judge got up from his chair, and disappeared through a side-door.</p> + +<p>After a short pause, Gascoigne's escort bade him march, and the three +followed through the same door.</p> + +<p>They entered a second chamber, smaller than the first, the uses of +which were at once obvious to Gascoigne, although he had never been +there before. It was like a low shed or workroom, lighted from above, +perfectly plain—even bald—in its decoration, but in the centre, +occupying the greater part of the space, and leaving room only for a +passage around, was a large flat slab of marble, something like that +seen in fishmongers' shops. The similarity was maintained by the sound +of water constantly flowing and falling upon the marble slab, as +though to keep it and its burden always fresh and cool.</p> + +<p>But that burden! Three corpses, stark naked but for a decent +waistband, were laid out upon the marble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> table. One was that of a +child who had been fished up from the Seine that morning; the second +that of a stonemason who had fallen from a scaffolding and broken his +neck and both legs; the third was the murdered man of the Hôtel +Paradis, the Baron d'Enot, stripped of his well-made clothes, lying +stark and stiff on his back, with the great knife-wound gaping red and +festering in his breast.</p> + +<p>"There!" cried the judge, triumphantly, leaning forward to scrutinise +narrowly the effect of this hideous confrontation upon the prisoner.</p> + +<p>To his bitter disappointment, this carefully prepared theatrical +effect, so frequently practised and so often successful with French +criminals, altogether failed with Gascoigne. The Englishman certainly +had started at the first sight of the corpse, but it was a natural +movement of horror which might have escaped any unconcerned spectator +at being brought into the presence of death in such a hideous form. +After betraying this first and not unnatural sign of emotion, +Gascoigne remained perfectly cool, self-possessed, and unperturbed.</p> + +<p>"You see your victim there; now will you confess?" cried the judge, +almost passionately.</p> + +<p>"Ledantec's victim, not mine," replied Gascoigne, quietly. Then, as if +in apology to himself, he added, "I could not help speaking, but I +shall say nothing more."</p> + +<p>"He is very strong, extraordinarily strong!" cried the judge, his rage +giving place to admiration at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> obstinate fortitude of his +prisoner. "In all my experience"—this was to the police and the chief +custodian of the Morgue—"I have never come across a more +cold-blooded, cynical wretch; but he shall not beat me; he shall not +outrage and set the law at defiance; we will bend his spirit yet. Take +him back to the Mousetrap; he shall stay there until he chooses to +speak."</p> + +<p>With this unfair threat, which was tantamount to a sentence of +unlimited imprisonment, the judge dismissed his prisoner.</p> + +<p>Gascoigne was marched back to the cab; the police-agents ordered him +to re-enter it; one of them took his seat by his side as before, the +other remounted the box. Then the cab started on its journey back to +the Préfecture.</p> + +<p>Gascoigne, silent, pre-occupied, and outwardly calm, was yet inwardly +consumed with a fierce though impotent rage. He was indignant at the +shameful treatment he had received. To be arraigned as a criminal +prematurely, his guilt taken for granted on the testimony of unseen +witnesses whose evidence he had no chance of rebutting—all this, so +intolerable to the spirit of British justice, revolted him and +outraged his sense of fair play.</p> + +<p>Yet what could he do? He was without redress. They had denied him his +right of appeal to his ambassador; he was forbidden to communicate +with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> friends. There seemed no hope for him, no chance of justice, +no loophole of escape.</p> + +<p>Stay! Escape?</p> + +<p>As the thought flashed quickly across his brain it lingered, taking +practical shape. Surely it was worth his while to make an effort, to +strike one bold blow for liberty now, before it was too late!</p> + +<p>He quickly cast up the chances for and against. The cab was following +the line of quays as before, but along the northern bank of the +island, that bordering the main stream. It was going at little better +than a foot's pace; the door next which he sat was on the side of the +river. What if he knocked his guardian senseless, striking him a +couple of British blows—one, two, straight from the shoulder—then, +flinging open the door, spring out, and over the parapet into the +swift-flowing Seine? He was an excellent swimmer; once in the water, +surely he might trust to his luck!</p> + +<p>These were the arguments in his favour. Against him were the chances +that his companion might show fight; that he might check his +prisoner's exit until his comrade on the box could come to the rescue; +or that some officious bystander might act on the side of the law; or +that a shot might drop him as he fled; or, finally, and most probably +of all, that he might be drowned in the turbulent stream.</p> + +<p>Gascoigne was not long in coming to a decision. "Nothing venture, +nothing have," was his watchword.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> At this moment the cab was near the +end of the Quai aux Fleurs, near the Pont d'Arcole. There was no time +to be lost; at any moment it might turn down from the river, taking +one of the cross streets. Setting his teeth firmly, and nerving +himself for a supreme effort, Gascoigne sprang suddenly upon the +police-agent, twisted his hands inside the stiff stock, and, having +thus nearly throttled him, felled him with two tremendous blows.</p> + +<p>With a groan, the man fell to the bottom of the cab; the next instant +Gascoigne had opened the door and dropped into the roadway.</p> + +<p>The escape was observed by one or two passers-by; but they were +evidently people who owed the police no good-will, for, although they +stood still to watch the fugitive, they did not give the alarm. This +came first from the policeman who had been assaulted, who, recovering +quickly from the attack, roared lustily to his fellow for help. The +cab stopped, the officials alighted hurriedly, and looking to right +and left caught sight of Gascoigne as he stood upon the parapet and +made his plunge into the river. Both rushed to the spot, pistol in +hand.</p> + +<p>Down below was the figure of their escaped prisoner battling with the +rapid stream. Both fired, almost simultaneously, and one at least must +have hit the mark.</p> + +<p>Gascoigne's body turned over and then sank, leaving a small crimson +stain upon the water.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>Was he killed? Drowned? That is what no one could tell; but it was +certain that no corpse answering the Englishman's description was ever +recovered from the river; nor, on the other hand, did the police, in +spite of an active pursuit, lay hands on their prisoner again alive.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>A SPIDER'S WEB.</h3> + + +<p>Some half a dozen years after the occurrences just recorded there was +a great gathering one night at Essendine House, a palatial mansion +occupying the whole angle of a great London square. The +reception-rooms upon the first floor, five of them, and all <i>en +suite</i>, and gorgeously decorated in white and gold, were brilliantly +lighted and thrown open to the best of London society. Lady Essendine +was at home to her friends, and seemingly she had plenty of them, for +the place was thronged.</p> + +<p>The party was by way of being musical—that is to say, a famous +pianist had been engaged to let off a lot of rockets from his +finger-tips, and a buffo singer from the opera roared out his "Figaro +la, Figaro quà," with all the strength of his brazen lungs; while one +or two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> gifted amateurs sang glees in washed-out, apologetical +accents, which were nearly lost in the din of the room.</p> + +<p>But there was yet another singer, whose performance was attended with +rather more display. It was preluded by a good deal of whispering and +nodding of heads. Lady Essendine posed as a charitable person, always +anxious to do good, and this singer was a <i>protégée</i> of hers—an +interesting but unfortunate foreigner in very reduced circumstances, +whom she had discovered by accident, and to whom she was most anxious +to give a helping hand.</p> + +<p>"A sweet creature," she had said quite audibly that evening, although +the object of her remarks was at her elbow. "A most engaging person; +poor thing, when I found her she was almost destitute. Wasn't it sad?"</p> + +<p>"Quite pretty, too," her friends had remarked, also ignoring the near +neighbourhood of the singer.</p> + +<p>It did not seem to matter much. The stranger sat there calmly, proudly +unconscious of all that was said about her. Pretty!—the epithet was +well within the mark. Beautiful, rather—magnificently, splendidly +beautiful, with a noble presence and almost queenly air. Her small, +exquisitely-proportioned head, crowned with a coronet of deep chestnut +hair, was well poised upon a long, slender neck; she had a refined, +aristocratic face, with clear-cut features, a well-shaped, aquiline +nose, with slender nostrils; a perfect mouth, great lustrous dark +eyes, with brows and lashes rather darker than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> her hair. Her teeth +were perfect—perhaps she knew it, for her lower lip hung down a +little, constantly displaying their pearly whiteness, and adding +somewhat to the decided outline of the firm well-rounded chin.</p> + +<p>Seated, her beauty claimed attention; but her appearance was still +more attractive when she stood up and moved across the room, to take +her seat at the piano. Her figure was tall and commanding, full, yet +faultless in outline, as that of one in the prime of ripe, rich +womanhood, and its perfect proportions were fully set off by her +close-fitting but perfectly plain black dress.</p> + +<p>A little hum of approval greeted her from this well-bred audience as +she sat down and swept her fingers with a flourish over the keys. +Then, without further prelude, she sang a little French song in a +pleasing, musical voice, without much compass, but well trained; +before the applause ended she broke into a Spanish ballad, tender and +passionate, which gained her still greater success; and thus accepted +and approved amidst continual cries of "Brava!" and "Encore!" she was +not allowed to leave her seat until she had sung at least a dozen +times.</p> + +<p>When she arose from the piano Lady Essendine went up to her, +patronising and gracious.</p> + +<p>"Oh! thank you so much. I don't know when I have heard anything so +charming."</p> + +<p>Other ladies followed suit, and, amidst the general cries of approval, +the beautiful singer was engaged a dozen deep to sing at other great +houses in the town.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Presently they pressed her to perform again. Was she not paid for it? +No one, Lady Essendine least of all, thought for one moment of her +<i>protégée's</i> fatigue, and the poor singer might have worked on till +she fainted from exhaustion had not the son of the house interposed.</p> + +<p>"You must be tired, mademoiselle," said Lord Lydstone, coming up to +the piano. "Surely you would like a little refreshment? Let me take +you to the tea-room," and, offering his arm, he led her away, despite +his mother's black looks and frowns of displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Lydstone is so impulsive," she whispered to the first confidant she +could find. It was Colonel Wilders, one of the family—a poor +relation, in fact, commonly called by them "Cousin Bill"—a hale, +hearty, middle-aged man, with grey hair he was not ashamed of, but +erect and vigorous, with a soldierly air. "I wish he would not +advertise himself with such a person in this way."</p> + +<p>"A monstrously handsome person!" cried the blunt soldier, evidently +cordially endorsing Lord Lydstone's taste.</p> + +<p>"That's not the question, Colonel Wilders; it was not my son's place +to take her to the tea-room, and I am much annoyed. Will you, to +oblige me, go and tell Lydstone I want to speak to him?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Bill, docile and obsequious, hurried off to execute her +ladyship's commission. He found the pair chatting pleasantly together +in a corner of the deserted tea-room, and delivered his message.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, bother!" cried Lord Lydstone undutifully. "What can mother want +with me?"</p> + +<p>"You had better go to her," said the colonel, who was a little afraid +of his cousin, the female head of the house. "I will take your place +here—that is to say, if mademoiselle will permit me."</p> + +<p>"Madame," corrected Lord Lydstone, who had been already put right +himself. "Let me introduce you. Madame Cyprienne—my cousin, Colonel +Wilders, of the Royal Rangers. I hope we shall hear you sing again +to-night, unless you are too tired."</p> + +<p>"I shall do whatever <i>miladi</i> wishes," said Madame Cyprienne, in a +deep but musical voice, with a slight foreign accent. "It is for her +to command, me to obey. She has been very kind, you know," she went on +to Colonel Wilders, who had taken Lydstone's seat by her side. "But +for her I should have starved."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! how sad," said the colonel. "Was it so bad as that? How did +it happen. Was M. Cyprienne unlucky?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer; and the colonel, wondering, looked up, to find her +fine eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"How stupid of me! What an idiot I am! Of course, your husband is +----"</p> + +<p>She pointed to her black dress, edged with crape, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I quite understand. Pray forgive me," stammered the +colonel, and there followed an awkward pause.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mine is a sad story," she said at length, in a sorrowful tone. "I was +left suddenly alone, unprotected, without resources, in this strange +country—to fight my own battle, to earn a crust of bread by my own +exertions, or starve."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" said the colonel, his sympathies fully aroused.</p> + +<p>"I should have starved, but for Lady Essendine. She heard of me. I was +trying to dispose of some lace—some very old Spanish point. You are a +judge of lace, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course!" said the colonel, although, as a matter of +fact, he did not know Spanish point from common <i>écru</i>.</p> + +<p>"This was some lace that had been in our family for generations. You +must understand we were not always as you see me—poor; we belong to +the old nobility. My husband was highly born, but when he died I +dropped the title and became Madame Cyprienne. It was better, don't +you think?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so; I am not sure," replied the colonel, hardly knowing what +to say.</p> + +<p>"It was. The idea of a countess a pauper, begging her bread!"</p> + +<p>"What was your title, may I ask?" inquired the colonel, eagerly. These +tender confidences, accompanied by an occasional encouraging glance +from her bright eyes, were rapidly increasing the interest he took in +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am the Countess de Saint Clair," replied Madame Cyprienne, proudly; +"but I do not assume the title now. I do not choose it to be known +that I live by singing, and by selling the remnants of our family +lace."</p> + +<p>"I hope Lady Essendine paid you a decent price," said the colonel, +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Madame Cyprienne shook her head, with a little laugh—</p> + +<p>"She has been very kind—exceedingly kind—but she knows how to drive +a bargain: all women do."</p> + +<p>"What a shame! And have you sold it all? You had better entrust me +with the disposal of the rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Colonel Wilders, I could not think of giving you so much +trouble."</p> + +<p>"But I will; I should like to. Send it to me. My chambers are in Ryder +Street; or, better still, I will call for it if you will tell me +where," said the colonel, artfully.</p> + +<p>"I am lodging in a very poor place, not at all such as the Countess de +Saint Clair should receive in. But I am not ashamed of it; it is in +Frith Street, Soho, <span class="smcap">No. 29a</span>; but I do not think you ought to +come there."</p> + +<p>"A most delightful part of the town," said the colonel, who at the +moment would have approved of Whitechapel or the New Cut. "When shall +I call?"</p> + +<p>"In the afternoon. In the morning I am engaged in giving lessons. But +come, we have lingered here long enough. <i>Miladi</i> will expect me to +sing again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lady Essendine frowned at Cousin Bill when he brought back her singer; +but whether it was at the length of the talk, or the withdrawal of her +<i>protégée</i> from the duties for which she was paid, her ladyship did +not condescend to explain. It was a little of both. She was pleased to +have hindered her son from paying marked attention to a person in +Madame Cyprienne's doubtful position. Now she found that person +exercising her fascinations upon Colonel Wilders, and it annoyed her, +although Cousin Bill was surely old enough to take care of himself. +Already she was changing her opinion concerning the fair singer she +had introduced into the London world. She could not fail to notice the +admiration Madame Cyprienne generally received, especially from the +men, and she doubted whether she had done wisely in taking her by the +hand.</p> + +<p>A few days later she had no doubt at all. To her disgust, all the old +Spanish point-lace was gone; and Madame Cyprienne had told her plainly +that it was her own fault for haggling over the price. Her ladyship's +disgust was heightened when she found the best piece of all—a +magnificent white mantilla—in the possession of a rival leader of +fashion, who refused to say where she had got it, or how.</p> + +<p>She set her emissaries at work, however—for every great London lady +has a dozen devoted, unpaid <i>attachés</i>, ready to do any little +commission of this kind—and the lace was traced back to Colonel +Wilders.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, one morning, to her lord, "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> am afraid Colonel +Wilders is very intimate with that Madame Cyprienne."</p> + +<p>"Our eccentric Cousin Bill! You don't say so? Well, there's no fool +like an old fool," said Lord Essendine, who was a very matter-of-fact, +plain-spoken peer.</p> + +<p>"I always thought she was an adventuress," cried Lady Essendine, +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you take her up so hotly? But for you, no one would ever +have heard of the woman, least of all Cousin Bill."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have done with her now. I shall drop her."</p> + +<p>"The mischief's done. Unless I am much mistaken, she won't drop Cousin +Bill."</p> + +<p>Lord Essendine, who was, perhaps, behind the scenes, was not wrong in +his estimate of the influence Madame Cyprienne exercised. Before six +months were out, Colonel Wilders came, with rather a sheepish air, to +the head of the house, and informed him of his approaching marriage to +the Countess de Saint Clair.</p> + +<p>"That's a new title to me, Bill. Foreign, I suppose?" Lord Essendine +had the usual contempt of the respectable Briton for titles not +mentioned in Debrett or Burke.</p> + +<p>"It's French, I fancy; and for the moment it is in abeyance. Madame +Cyprienne tells me—"</p> + +<p>"Gracious powers, William Wilders! have you fallen into that woman's +clutches?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must ask you, Lord Essendine, to speak more respectfully of the +lady I propose to make my wife."</p> + +<p>"You had better not! I warn you while there is yet time."</p> + +<p>"What do you know against her?" asked the colonel, hotly.</p> + +<p>"What do you know of or for her?" replied the peer, quickly. "I tell +you, man, it's a disgrace to the family. Lady Essendine will be +furious. If I had any authority over you I would forbid the marriage. +In any case," he went on, "do not look for any countenance or support +from me."</p> + +<p>"I hope we shall be able to get on without your assistance, Lord +Essendine. I thought it my duty to inform you of my marriage, and I +think I might have been better received."</p> + +<p>"Stay, you idiot; don't go off in a huff. I don't like the match, I +tell you frankly; but I don't want to quarrel. Is there anything I can +do for you, except attending the wedding? I won't do that."</p> + +<p>Colonel Wilders could not bring himself to ask any favours of his +unsympathetic kinsman. Nevertheless, it was through Lord Essendine's +interest that he obtained a snug staff appointment in one of the large +garrison towns; and he did not return indignantly the very handsome +cheque paid in by his cousin to his account as a wedding present.</p> + +<p>He was still serving at Chatsmouth, his young and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> beautiful wife the +life of the gay garrison, when the war-clouds gathered dark upon the +horizon, and, thanks again to the Essendine interest, he found himself +transferred, still on the staff, to the expeditionary army under +orders for the East.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE WAR FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>They were stirring times, those early days of '54. After half a +century of peace the shadow of a great contest loomed dark and near. +The whole British nation, sick and tired of Russian double-dealing, +was eager to cut the knot of political difficulty with the sword. +Everyone was mad to fight; only a few optimists, statesmen mostly, +still relying on the sedative processes of diplomacy, had any hopes of +averting war. A race reputed peace-loving, but most pugnacious when +roused, was stirred now to its very depths. British hearts beat high +throughout the length and breadth of the land, proudly mindful of +their former prowess and manfully hopeful of emulating former glorious +deeds.</p> + +<p>It was the same wherever Englishmen gathered under the old flag; in +every corner of the world peopled by offshoots from the old stock, +most of all in those strong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>holds and dependencies beyond sea captured +in the old wars, and still held by our arms.</p> + +<p>It was so upon the great Rock, the commonly counted impregnable +fortress, one of the ancient pillars of Hercules that still stands +silently strong and watchful at the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea.</p> + +<p>Nowhere did the war fever rage higher than at Gibraltar. Before +everything, a garrison town, battlemented and fortified on every side, +resonant from morning gunfire till watch-setting with martial sounds, +its principal pageants military, with soldiers filling its streets, +and sentinels at every corner, the prospect of active service was +naturally the one theme and topic of the place.</p> + +<p>As spring advanced, one of those balmy-scented Southern springs when +flowers highly prized with us blossomed wild everywhere, even in the +fissures of the rock—when the days are already long and bright, under +ever-blue and cloudless skies, Gibraltar realised more fully that war +was close at hand. Lying in the high road to the East, it saw daily +the armed strength of England sweep proudly by. Now a squadron of +men-of-war: not the hideous, shapeless ironclad of to-day, but the +traditional three-decker, with its tiers of snarling teeth and its +beauty of white-bellying canvas and majestic spar. Now a troopship +with its consorts, two, or three, or more, tightly packed with their +living cargo—whole regiments of red-coated soldiers on their way to +Malta and beyond.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such sights as these kept the garrison—friends and comrades of those +bound eastward—in a state of constant high-pitched excitement. At +first, forbidden by strict quarantine, there was no communication +between the sea and the shore, but all day long there were crowds of +idlers ready to line the sea-wall and greet every ship that came in +close enough with hearty repeated cheers. When the vexatious +health-rules were relaxed, and troopships landed some of their +passengers, there was endless fraternisation, eager discussion of +coming operations, and unlimited denunciation of the common foe.</p> + +<p>Members of the garrison itself were, of course, frantically jealous of +all who had the better luck to belong to the expeditionary force. That +they were not under orders for the East was the daily burden of +complaint in every barrack-room and guard-house upon the Rock. The +British soldier is an inveterate grumbler; he quarrels perpetually +with his quarters, his food, his clothing, and his general want of +luck. Just now the bad luck of being refused a share in an arduous +campaign, with its attendant chances of hardships, sufferings, perhaps +a violent death, made every soldier condemned to remain in safety at +Gibraltar discontented and sore at heart.</p> + +<p>"No orders for us by the last mail, Hyde," said a young sergeant of +the Royal Picts, as he walked briskly up to the entrance of the +Waterport Guard.</p> + +<p>A tall, well-grown, clean-limbed young fellow of twenty-four or five: +one who prided himself on being a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> smart soldier, and fully deserved +the name. He was admirably turned out; his coatee with wings, showing +that he belonged to one of the flank companies, fitted him to +perfection; the pale blue trousers, the hideous fashion of the day, +for which Prince Albert was said to be responsible, were carefully +cut; his white belts were beautifully pipe-clayed, and the use of +pipe-clay was at that time an art; you could see your face in the +polish of his boots. A smart soldier, and as fine-looking a young +fellow as wore the Queen's uniform in 1854. He had an open, honest +face, handsome withal; clear bright grey eyes, broad forehead, and a +firm mouth and chin.</p> + +<p>"Worrying yourself, as usual, for permission to have your throat cut. +Can't you bide your time, Sergeant McKay?"</p> + +<p>The answer came from another sergeant of the same regiment, an elder, +sterner man—a veteran evidently, for he wore two medals for Indian +campaigns, and his bronzed, weather-beaten face showed that he had +seen service in many climes. As a soldier he was in no wise inferior +to his comrade: his uniform and appointments were as clean and +correct, but he lacked the extra polish—the military dandyism, so to +speak—of the younger man.</p> + +<p>"War is our regular trade. Isn't it natural we should want to be at +it?" said Sergeant McKay.</p> + +<p>"You talk like a youngster who doesn't know what it's like," replied +Sergeant Hyde. "I've seen some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>thing of campaigning, and it's rough +work at the best, even in India, where soldiers are as well off as +officers here."</p> + +<p>"Officers!" said McKay, rather bitterly. "They have the best of it +everywhere."</p> + +<p>"Hush! don't be an insubordinate young idiot," interposed his comrade, +hastily. "Here come two of them."</p> + +<p>The sergeants sprang hastily to their feet, and, standing strictly to +attention, saluted their superiors in proper military form.</p> + +<p>"That's what I hate," went on McKay.</p> + +<p>"Then you are no true soldier, and don't know what proper discipline +means. They are as much bound to salute us as we them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but they don't."</p> + +<p>"That's their want of manners; so much the worse for them. Besides, I +am quite sure Mr. Wilders didn't mean it; he is far too good an +officer—always civil-spoken, too, and considerate to the men."</p> + +<p>"I object to saluting him more than any one else."</p> + +<p>"Why, McKay! what's the matter with you? What particular fault have +you to find with Mr. Wilders?"</p> + +<p>"I am just as good as he is."</p> + +<p>"In your own opinion, perhaps; not in that of this garrison—certainly +not under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p><p>"I am just as good. I am his cousin—"</p> + +<p>Sergeant McKay stopped suddenly, bit his lip, and flushed very red.</p> + +<p>"So you have let the cat out of the bag at last, my young friend," +said Sergeant Hyde, quietly. "I always thought this—that you were a +gentleman—"</p> + +<p>"Superior to my station, in fact."</p> + +<p>"By no means, Sergeant McKay. I should be sorry to admit that any man, +however highly born, had lost his right to be deemed a gentleman +because he is a sergeant in the Royal Picts."</p> + +<p>"You, Hyde, are a gentleman too. I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"I am a sergeant in the Royal Picts. That is enough for me and for +you."</p> + +<p>"Why did you enlist?"</p> + +<p>Hyde shook his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"There are pages in every man's life," he said, "which he does not +care to lift again when they are once turned down. I have not asked +you for your secret; respect mine."</p> + +<p>"But I have nothing to conceal," said McKay, quickly. "I am ready +enough to tell you why I enlisted."</p> + +<p>"As you please; but, mind, I have not asked you."</p> + +<p>There was little encouragement in this speech; but McKay ignored it, +and went on—</p> + +<p>"I enlisted because I could not enter the army in any other way. My +friends could not afford to purchase me a commission."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why were you so wild to become a soldier?"</p> + +<p>"It was my father's profession. He was a captain in—"</p> + +<p>"That should have given you a claim for an ensigncy, as an officer's +son."</p> + +<p>"But my father was not in the English service. He was only half an +Englishman, really."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! How so?"</p> + +<p>"Although Scotch by extraction, as our name will tell you, my father +was born in Poland. He was a Russian subject, and as such was +compelled to serve in the Russian army."</p> + +<p>"For long?"</p> + +<p>"Until he was mixed in an unfortunate national movement, and only +escaped execution by flight. He lived afterwards at Geneva. It was +there he met my mother."</p> + +<p>"Is it through him or her that you are related to the Wilders?"</p> + +<p>"Through my mother. She was daughter of the Honourable Anastasius, son +of the twelfth earl."</p> + +<p>"And what might be the distinguishing numeral of the present Essendine +potentate?"</p> + +<p>"He is fourteenth earl."</p> + +<p>"Then he and your mother are first cousins?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so; and I am his first cousin once removed."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is very nice for you," said old Hyde, with a tinge of +contempt in his tone. "They're not much use to you though, these fine +relations. Surely Lord Essendine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> could have got you a commission by +holding up his hand?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what he would not do, and why I hate him and the whole of +the Wilders family. Lord Essendine has never recognised us."</p> + +<p>"Why? Is there any reason?"</p> + +<p>"The Honourable Anastasius made a poor match, married against his +father's wish, and was cut off with a shilling. His brother, the next +earl, was disposed to make it up, but my grandfather died, and my +grandmother married again—an honest sea-captain—and the noble peer +cut her dead."</p> + +<p>"And so you joined the Royal Picts. But I wonder you came to this +regiment to serve with your cousin."</p> + +<p>"I enlisted, you know, a couple of years before he was gazetted to the +corps."</p> + +<p>"Do they know you took the shilling?—that you are now a +colour-sergeant in the Royal Picts?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think they are aware of my existence even."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind. Don't be cast down. The time may come when they +will be proud to recognise you. It all depends upon yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I will do all I know to force them, you may be sure."</p> + +<p>"And you will have your chance, in a great war like this which is +coming. Everything is possible to a man whose heart is in the right +place. You have pluck and spirit."</p> + +<p>The young fellow's eyes flashed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Trust me, Hyde; I sha'n't flinch, if I only get the chance."</p> + +<p>"You are well educated; you can draw; you have picked up Spanish since +you have been here; and I suppose you inherit a taste for languages +from your Polish father?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; at any rate, I can talk French fluently, and I speak +Russian of course."</p> + +<p>"Why, man! the game is positively in your own hands. You are bound to +get on: mark my words."</p> + +<p>"Not if we stay here, Hyde, keeping guard upon this old Rock and +losing all the fun. Can you wonder why I am so anxious the regiment +should get the route?"</p> + +<p>"It will come, never fear. They will want every soldier that carries a +musket before this war is over, or I'm a much-mistaken man. Only have +patience."</p> + +<p>"How can I? I am eating my heart out, Hyde."</p> + +<p>"Was it to tell me this you came down here? What brings you to +Waterport this morning? Only to gossip with me?"</p> + +<p>"That, and something more. I am on duty, detailed as orderly sergeant +to one of the Expeditionary Generals; he is just going to land from a +yacht in the bay."</p> + +<p>"Do you know his name?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Wilders—another of my fine cousins. You can understand now why +I am so bitter against my relations to-day: there are too many of them +about."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that is what's brought our Mr. Wilders here to-day—to meet +his cousin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And his brother; for they are on board Lord Lydstone's yacht."</p> + +<p>"They! How many of them?"</p> + +<p>"General Wilders has his wife with him, I believe, accompanying him to +the East."</p> + +<p>"Old idiot! Why couldn't he leave her at home? Women are in the way at +these times. Soldiers have no business with wives."</p> + +<p>"That's why you never married, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Hyde did not answer his question, but got up and left his comrade +abruptly, to re-enter the guard-room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>ON DANGEROUS GROUND.</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Arcadia</i>, Lord Lydstone's yacht, was a fine three-masted schooner +of a couple of hundred tons. She was lying far out in the bay, amidst +a crowd of shipping of every kind—coal-hulks, black and grimy; H.M.S. +<i>Samarang</i>, receiving-ship, and home of the captain of the port; +British vessels, steamers and sailing-ships, of every rig; foreign +craft of every aspect native to its waters: zebecques, faluchas, and +polaccas, with their curved spars and heavy lateen sails.</p> + +<p>A fleet of small boats surrounded the yacht, native boats of curious +build, and manned by dark-skinned natives of the Rock, in nondescript +attire—a noisy, pushing, quarrelsome lot, eager to do business, +gesticulating wildly, and jabbering loudly in many strange tongues. +Here was a pure Spaniard, with a red sash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> round his waist, and a +velvet cap, round as a cartwheel, on his head, with a boatful of +vegetables and early fruit. There was a grave and sedate Moor, in +green turban and white flowing robes, with an assortment of +gold-braided slippers and large brass trays. Next a Maltese +milk-seller, in scanty garments, nothing but short canvas trousers and +a shirt, who had come with cans full of goats'-milk from the herds he +kept on the barren slopes of the Rock. Not far off was the galley of +the health-officer, with a crew of "scorpion" boatmen in neat white +jackets and straw hats.</p> + +<p>On the deck of the yacht, under an awning—for the spring sun already +beat down hotly at noon—were the owner and his guests. Lord Lydstone, +cigar in mouth, lounged lazily upon a heap of rugs and cushions at the +feet of Mrs. Wilders, who took her ease luxuriantly in a comfortable +cane arm-chair.</p> + +<p>Blanche Cyprienne, Countess of St. Clair, had changed little since her +marriage. Her beauty had gained rather than lost; her manner was more +commanding, her look more haughty. Her fine eyes flashed insolently, +or were veiled in lazy disdain, and her voice spoke scornfully or +drawled with careless contempt, according to her mood.</p> + +<p>"So that is the Rock—the great Rock of Gibraltar," she was saying. +"What an extraordinary-looking place!"</p> + +<p>"You will say so, Countess, when you get on shore," said Lord +Lydstone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there anything really to see?" she asked. "Is it worth the trouble +of landing?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! I thought it was all settled. The general sent some +hours ago to say he proposed to pay his respect to the Governor. You +cannot help yourself now."</p> + +<p>"Oh! the general," remarked Mrs. Wilders, as she was generally +styled—the title Countess was only used by intimate friends—in a +tone that implied she was not at all bound by her husband's plans.</p> + +<p>"Where is the good man just now?" inquired Lord Lydstone, in much the +same tone.</p> + +<p>"There, forward," said Mrs. Wilders, pointing to the part of the deck +beyond the awning. "Trying to get a sunstroke by walking about with +his head bare."</p> + +<p>"He does that on principle, Countess, don't you know. He wants to +harden his cranium, in case he loses his hat some day in action."</p> + +<p>"I hope he may never go into action. If he does, I should be sorry for +his men."</p> + +<p>"Not for him?"</p> + +<p>"That may be taken for granted," she replied, in a matter-of-fact way.</p> + +<p>"How fond you are of him! What devoted affection! It's lucky you have +little to spare!"</p> + +<p>"I keep it for the proper person."</p> + +<p>"Is there none for his relatives?" asked Lydstone, with a meaning +look.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do any of them deserve my affection?"</p> + +<p>"I try very hard, Countess; and I should so value the smallest crumb."</p> + +<p>"Don't be foolish, Lord Lydstone! you must not try to make love to me; +it would be wrong. Besides, we are too nearly connected now."</p> + +<p>"You never throw me a single kind word, Blanche."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I won't have it on my conscience that I led you +astray, poor innocent lamb! A fine thing! What would your people say? +They're bitter enough against me as it is!"</p> + +<p>The Essendines had never properly acknowledged Colonel Wilders's +marriage, or treated his wife, the foreign countess, other than with +the coldest contempt. Lord Lydstone knew this, and knew too that his +mother was right; yet he could not defend her when this woman, whom he +admired still—too much, indeed, for his peace of mind—resented her +treatment.</p> + +<p>"Your mother has behaved disgracefully to me—that you must admit, +Lord Lydstone."</p> + +<p>"She is an old-fashioned, old-world lady, with peculiar straitlaced +notions of her own. But, if you please, we won't talk about her."</p> + +<p>"Why not? You cannot pretend that she was right in ignoring me, +flouting me, insulting me! Am I not your near relative's wife? Why, +Bill is only four off the title now."</p> + +<p>"One of them being your humble servant, who devoutly hopes that all +four will long interpose between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> him and the succession," said Lord +Lydstone, with a pleasant laugh.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish you any harm, of course; still it is as I say, and my +son—"</p> + +<p>"Aged two, and at present in England at nurse."</p> + +<p>"—May be the future Earl of Essendine."</p> + +<p>"He shan't be, if I can prevent it!" cried Lord Lydstone, gaily; "you +may rely on that. But, I say, here is a smart gig coming off from the +shore. I believe the Governor has sent his own barge for you. Here, +Bill! I say, Bill!"</p> + +<p>General Wilders came aft.</p> + +<p>"You had better put on your best clothes, general; they are coming to +fetch you in state."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, on this occasion only, you will wear a hat, Bill?" said +Mrs. Wilders.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would go down and get ready, my dear; we ought not to keep +the gig," said the general, as he himself went below to dress.</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure I shall go on shore at all," replied his wife.</p> + +<p>"No!" cried Lord Lydstone. "Throw the general over, and stay on board +with me."</p> + +<p>"That would be too great penance," said Mrs. Wilders, as she moved +towards the companion-ladder. "I've had enough of your lordship for +one day."</p> + +<p>Lydstone got up, looking rather vexed, and followed her across the +deck. When he was quite close to her side he whispered with suppressed +but manifest feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Why do you torture me so? Sometimes I think you care for me; +sometimes that you hate and detest me. What am I think?"</p> + +<p>"What you choose," she answered, in a low, quick voice, evidently much +displeased. "I have given you no right to speak to me in this way. Let +me pass, or I shall appeal to my lawful protector!"</p> + +<p>Presently Mrs. Wilders reappeared, dressed to perfection in some cool +light fabric, serene and smiling to everyone but Lord Lydstone. She +was especially gracious to young Mr. Wilders, who had come off in the +Governor's gig, and had been cordially welcomed by his brother.</p> + +<p>"Another cousin," said the general, introducing him. He was now in +uniform—the general—in uniform to suit his own fancy rather than the +regulations. The only orthodox articles of apparel were his twisted +general's scimitar and a forage-cap with a broad gold band. His coat +and waistcoat were of white cloth; he had a wide crimson sash round +his waist, and his lower limbs were encased in hunting-breeches and +long boots. "Anastasius, one of the Royal Picts."</p> + +<p>"All soldiers, you Wilders, all—except one." This was specially +intended to annoy Lydstone. "The future head of the house is kept in +cotton-wool; he is too precious, I suppose, to be risked."</p> + +<p>"It is not my fault," began Lydstone. It was a sore point with him +that he had not been permitted—in deference to his mother's fond +protests—to enter the army.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you not coming with us, Lydstone?" said his young brother, +greatly disappointed. "I did want to show you our mess."</p> + +<p>"I know Gibraltar by heart, and I have letters to write. I hope you +will enjoy yourself, Countess," he added, sarcastically, as they went +down the side.</p> + +<p>"There's no fear of that, now we have left you behind," replied Mrs. +Wilders, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Why can't you and Lydstone keep better friends?" said General +Wilders, a little shocked at this remark.</p> + +<p>"It's his fault, not mine, and that's enough about it," replied Mrs. +Wilders, rather petulantly. "Did you ever quarrel with your brother," +she went on to Anastasius, "when you were boys?"</p> + +<p>"I would not have dared. Not that I wanted to: we three brothers were +always the best of friends."</p> + +<p>"You are an affectionate family, Mr. Wilders; I have long been +convinced of that," said Mrs. Wilders, who could not leave the subject +alone.</p> + +<p>But now the gig, impelled by six stout oarsmen, was nearing the +Waterport Guard, and was already under the shadow of the frowning +batteries of the Devil's Tongue. High above them rose the sheer +straight wall of the rock, bristling with frowning fortifications, +line above line, and countless embrasures armed with heavy artillery.</p> + +<p>The wharf itself was crowded with the usual motley polyglot +gathering—sailors of all nations, soldiers of the garrison, Spanish +peasants from the neighbouring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> villages, native scorpions, policemen, +and inspectors of strangers.</p> + +<p>"How amusing! How interesting! It's like a scene in a play!" cried +Mrs. Wilders, as she stepped ashore.</p> + +<p>Escorted by her husband and cousin, they pushed their way through the +crowd towards the Waterport gateway, and under it into the main ditch. +As they approached there was a cry of "Guard, turn out!" and the +Waterport Guard, under its officer, fell in with open ranks to give +the general a salute. General Wilders acknowledged the compliment, +and, while he stood there with two fingers to his hat, Sergeant McKay +advanced and reported himself.</p> + +<p>"Your orderly, sir."</p> + +<p>"Eh! what?" said the general, a little surprised. "My orderly! Very +considerate of Sir Thomas," he went on. "One of the Royal Picts, too, +and a guard from the same regiment! Most attentive, I'm sure!"</p> + +<p>The general went up at once to the front rank of the guard, and +proceeded to inspect the men carefully. With his own hands he altered +the hang of the knapsacks and the position of the belts; he measured +in the regular way, with two fingers, the length of the pouch below +the elbow, grumbling to himself as he went along.</p> + +<p>"So you use harness-blacking for your pouches. I don't approve of +that. And your pipe-clay; it's got too blue a tinge."</p> + +<p>While he lingered thus fondly over the trifling details<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> that, to his +mind, summed up the whole duty of a general officer, his wife's voice +was heard impatiently calling him to her side.</p> + +<p>"Come, general, don't be all day! How can you waste time over such +nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"My dear," said her husband, gravely, as he rejoined her, "this +regiment is to form part of my brigade"—McKay pricked up his +ears—"it is the first time I have seen any of it. You must allow +me—"</p> + +<p>"I am going on into the town; inspecting guards doesn't amuse me," and +the general discreetly abandoned his professional duties and walked on +by her side.</p> + +<p>The guard was dismissed by its commander; the men "lodged arms" and +went back to the guard-room. Only Sergeant Hyde remained outside, +watching the retreating figures of the Wilders' party.</p> + +<p>"I should have known her voice again amongst a thousand," said the old +sergeant, shaking his head; "and from the glimpse I caught of her she +seemed but little changed. I wonder whether she saw me. Not that she +would have recognised me; I am not what I was. No one here has made me +out, although a dozen years ago I was well known all over the Rock. +Besides, how could she see me? I was on the other flank, and, +fortunately, she left the general to inspect us by himself. Poor man! +I had rather be a sergeant—a private even—than stand in that +general's shoes."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.</h3> + + +<p>The Wilders' party, after leaving the Waterport, passed through the +Casemate Barrack Square and entered Waterport Street, the chief +thoroughfare of the town. It was a narrow, unpretending street, very +foreign in aspect; the houses tall and overhanging with balconies +filled with flowers; the lattice-shutters gaily painted, having +outside blinds of brilliantly striped stuffs.</p> + +<p>The shop fronts were small, the wares common-place; the best show was +at the drapers, where they sold British calicoes and piece-goods in +flaunting colours, calculated to suit the local taste.</p> + +<p>The street, both pavement and roadway, was crowded. In the former were +long strings of pack-horses bringing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> in straw and charcoal from +Spain; small stout donkeys laden with water-barrels; officers, some in +undress uniform, many more in plain clothes, riding long-tailed barbs; +occasionally a commissariat wagon drawn by a pair of sleek mules, or a +high-hooded <i>calêche</i>, with its driver seated on the shafts, cut +through the throng. Detachments of troops, too, marched by: recruits +returning from drill upon the North Front, armed parties, guards +coming off duty, and others going on fatigue—all these cleared the +street before them. On the pavement the crowd was as diverse as might +be expected, from the mixed population. Stately Moors rubbed elbows +with stalwart British soldiers; Barbary Jews, dejected in mien, but +with shrewd, cunning eyes, chaffered with the itinerant vendors of +freshly caught sardines, or the newly-picked fruit of the prickly +pear. Now and again, quite out of keeping with her surroundings, a +rosy-cheeked British nursemaid passed by escorting her charges—the +blue-eyed, flaxen-haired children of the dominant race.</p> + +<p>General Wilders walked along with head erect, returning punctiliously +the innumerable salutes he received, quite happy, and in his element +in this essentially military post and stronghold. Mrs. Wilders seemed +also to enjoy the busy, animated scene: it was all so new to her, so +different from anything she had expected, as she was at great pains to +explain. The sight of this foreign town held by British bayonets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +pleased her, she said; she was proud to think that she was now an +Englishwoman.</p> + +<p>"It is your first visit to Gibraltar, then?" said young Mr. Wilders, +anxious to be civil.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" she replied; "that is why I am so interested—so amused by +all I see."</p> + +<p>Was this absolutely true? She seemed, as she led the way across the +casemate square and up Waterport Street, to know the road without +guidance, and once or twice a passer-by paused to look at her. Were +they only paying tribute to her radiant beauty, or was her's not +altogether an unfamiliar face?</p> + +<p>It was evident that there were those at Gibraltar who knew her, or +mistook her for some one else.</p> + +<p>As the party reached the Commercial Square, and the main guard, like +that at Waterport, turned out to do honour to the general, a man +pushed forward from a little group that stood respectfully behind the +party, and whispered hoarsely in Mrs. Wilders's ear—</p> + +<p>"<i>Dios mio! Cypriana! Es usted?</i>" (Gracious Heavens! Cyprienne! Is it +you?)</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders stopped and looked round. At that moment, too, young +Wilders turned angrily on the man—a black-muzzled, Spanish-looking +fellow, dressed in a suit of coarse brown cloth, short jacket, +knee-breeches, and leather gaiters—the dress, in fact, of a +well-to-do Spanish peasant—and said, sharply, "How dare you speak to +this lady? What did he say to you, Mrs. Wilders—anything rude?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders had recovered herself sufficiently to reply in an +unconcerned tone—</p> + +<p>"I did not understand his jargon; but it does not matter in the least; +don't make any fuss, I beg."</p> + +<p>The incident had been unobserved by any but these two, and it must +have been speedily forgotten by young Wilders, for he said nothing +more. But Mrs. Wilders, as they passed on, and for the rest of their +walk to the Convent, as the Governor's residence is still styled, +looked anxiously behind to see if the man who had claimed acquaintance +with her was still in sight.</p> + +<p>Yes; he was following her. What did he mean?</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, when the Wilders had made their bow to the +Governor, and it had been arranged that the general should attend an +inspection of troops upon the North Front, Mrs. Wilders declined to +accept the seat in the carriage offered her. She preferred, she said, +to explore the quaint old town. Mr. Wilders and one of the Governor's +aides-de-camps eagerly volunteered to escort, but she declined.</p> + +<p>"Many thanks, but I'd rather go alone. I shall be more independent."</p> + +<p>"You'll lose your way; or be arrested by the garrison police and taken +before the town major as a suspicious character, loitering too near +the fortifications," said the Governor, who thought it a capital joke.</p> + +<p>"No one will interfere with me, I think," she replied, quietly. "I am +quite able to take care of myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked it just then, with her firm-set lips and flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wilders will have her own way," said her husband. "It's best to +give in to her. That's what I've found," he added, with a laugh, in +which all joined.</p> + +<p>When the horses were brought out for the parade, Mrs. Wilders, still +persisting in her intention of walking alone, said, gaily—</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen, while you are playing at soldiers I shall go off on +my own devices. If I get tired, Bill, I shall go back to the yacht."</p> + +<p>And with this Mrs. Wilders walked off.</p> + +<p>"Here, sergeant!" cried the general to his orderly, McKay. "I don't +want you; you may be of use to Mrs. Wilders. Go after her."</p> + +<p>"Shall I report myself to her, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I don't advise you, my man. She'd send you about your business +double-quick. But you can keep your eye on her, and see she comes to +no harm."</p> + +<p>Sergeant McKay saluted and hastened out of the courtyard. Mrs. Wilders +had already disappeared down Convent Lane, and was just turning into +the main street. McKay followed quickly, keeping her in sight.</p> + +<p>It was evident that the best part of Gibraltar had no charms for Mrs. +Wilders; she did not want to look into +the shop windows, such as they were; nor did she pause to admire the +architectural beauties of the Garrison Library or other severely plain +masterpieces of our military engineers. Her course was towards the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +upper town, and she pressed on with quick, unfaltering steps, as +though she knew every inch of the ground.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes' sharp walking, sometimes by steep lanes, sometimes up +long flights of stone steps, brought her to the upper road leading to +the Moorish castle. This was essentially a native quarter; Spanish was +the only language heard from the children who swarmed about the +doorways, or their slatternly mothers quarreling over their washtubs, +or combing out and cleansing, in a manner that will not bear +description, their children's hair. Spanish colour prevailed, and +Spanish smells.</p> + +<p>Still pursuing her way without hesitation, Mrs. Wilders presently +turned up another steep alley bearing the historic name of "Red Hot +Shot Ramp," and paused opposite a gateway leading into a dirty +courtyard. The place was a kind of livery or bait stable patronised by +muleteers and gipsy dealers, who brought in horses from Spain.</p> + +<p>Picking her steps carefully, Mrs. Wilders entered the stable-yard.</p> + +<p>"Benito Villegas?" she asked in fluent Spanish, of the ostler, who +stared with open-mouthed surprise at this apparition of a fine lady in +such a dirty locality.</p> + +<p>"Benito, the commission agent and guide? Yes, señora, he is with his +horses inside," replied the ostler, pointing to the stable-door.</p> + +<p>"Call him, then!" cried Mrs. Wilders, imperiously. "Think you that I +will cross the threshold of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> piggery?" and she waited, stamping +her foot impatiently whilst the man did her bidding.</p> + +<p>In another minute he came out with Benito Villegas, the man in the +brown suit, who had spoken to Mrs. Wilders in the Commercial Square.</p> + +<p>"Cypriana," he began at once, in a half-coaxing, half-apologetic tone.</p> + +<p>"Silence! Answer my questions, or I will thrash you with your own +whip. How dared you intrude yourself upon me to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me! I was so utterly amazed. I thought some bright vision had +descended from above, sent, perhaps, by the Holy Virgin"—he crossed +himself devoutly—"I could not believe it was you."</p> + +<p>"Thanks! I am not an angel from heaven, I know, but let that pass. +Answer me! How dared you speak to me to-day?"</p> + +<p>"The sight of you awoke old memories; once again I worshipped +you—your shadow—the ground on which you trod. I thought of how you +once returned my love."</p> + +<p>"Miserable cur! I never stooped so low."</p> + +<p>"You would have been mine but for that cursed Englishman who came +between us, and whom you preferred. What did you gain by listening to +him? He lured you from your home—"</p> + +<p>"No more! The villain met with his deserts. He is dead—dead these +years—and with him all my old life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> That is what brings me here. +Attend now, Benito Villegas, to what I say!"</p> + +<p>"I am listening," he answered, cowering before her, and in a tone of +mingled fear and passion. It was evident this strange woman exercised +an extraordinary influence over him.</p> + +<p>"Never again must you presume to recognise me—to address me, +anywhere. If you do, take care! I am a great lady now—the wife of an +English general. I have great influence, much power, and can do what I +please with such scum as you. I have been with my husband just now to +the Convent, the palace of the Governor, and I have but to ask to +obtain your immediate expulsion from the Rock. Do not anger or oppose +me, man, or beware!"</p> + +<p>Benito looked at her with increasing awe.</p> + +<p>"Obey my behests, on the other hand, and I will reward you. Ask any +favour! Money?"—she quickly took out a little purse and handed him a +ten-pound note—"here is an earnest of what I will give you. Interest? +Do you want the good-will of the authorities—a snug appointment in +the Custom-house, or under the police? They are yours."</p> + +<p>"I am your slave; I will do your bidding, and ask nothing in return +but your approval."</p> + +<p>"Nothing! You grow singularly self-denying, Señor Benito."</p> + +<p>"The señora will really help me?" said Benito, now cringing and +obsequious. "One small favour, then. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> am tired of this wandering +life. Here to-day in Cadiz; Ronda, Malaga, to-morrow. At everybody's +beck and call—never my own master, not for an hour. I want to settle +down."</p> + +<p>"To marry?" inquired Mrs. Wilders, contemptuously. "In your own +station? That is better."</p> + +<p>"I have not forgotten you, señora. But the wound was beginning to +heal—"</p> + +<p>She held up her hand with a menacing gesture.</p> + +<p>"I will not deny that I have cast my eyes upon a maiden that pleases +me," Benito confessed. "I have known her from childhood. Her friends +approve of my suit, and would accept me; but what lot can I offer a +wife?"</p> + +<p>"Well, how is it to be mended?"</p> + +<p>"For a small sum—five hundred dollars—I could purchase a share in +these stables."</p> + +<p>"You shall have the money at once as a gift."</p> + +<p>"I will promise in return never to trouble you again."</p> + +<p>"I make no conditions; only I warn you if you ever offend, if you ever +presume—"</p> + +<p>"I shall fully merit your displeasure."</p> + +<p>"Enough said!" she cut him short. "You know my wishes; see that they +are fulfilled. You shall hear from me again. For the present, +good-day."</p> + +<p>She gathered up the skirts of her dress, turned on her heel, and swept +out of the place.</p> + +<p>In the gateway she ran up against Serjeant McKay,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> who had been +hovering about the stables from the moment he saw Mrs. Wilders enter +the courtyard. He had seen nothing of what passed inside, and as the +interview with Benito occupied some time he had grown uneasy. Fearing +something had happened to the general's wife, he was on the point of +going in to look after her when he met her coming out.</p> + +<p>"You have been following me," said Mrs. Wilders, sharply, and jumping +with all a woman's quickness at the right conclusion. "Who set you to +spy on me?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, madam; I am not a spy," said the young serjeant, +formally saluting.</p> + +<p>"Don't bandy words with me. Tell me, I insist!"</p> + +<p>"The general was afraid something might happen to you. He thought you +might need assistance—perhaps lose your way."</p> + +<p>She looked at him very keenly as he said these last words, watching +whether there was any covert satire in them.</p> + +<p>But McKay's face betrayed nothing.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been at my heels? How much have you seen?"</p> + +<p>"I followed you from the Convent, madam, to this door. I have seen +nothing since you went in here."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you are wondering what brought me to such a place. A person +in whom I take a great interest, an old woman, lives here. I knew her +years ago. Psha! why should I condescend to explain? Look here, Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +Sergeant"—she took out her purse and produced a sovereign—"take +this, and drink my health!"</p> + +<p>The sergeant flushed crimson, and drew himself up stiffly, as he said, +with another formal salute, "Madam, you mistake!"</p> + +<p>"Strange!" she exclaimed, scornfully. "I thought all soldiers liked +drink. Well, keep the money; spend it as you like."</p> + +<p>"I cannot take it, madam; I am paid by the Queen to do my duty."</p> + +<p>"And you will not take a bribe to neglect it? Very fine, truly! +General Wilders shall know how well you executed his commands. But +there!—I have had enough of this; I wish to return to the yacht. Show +me the shortest way back to the water side. Lead on; I will follow +you."</p> + +<p>Sergeant McKay took a short cut down the steep steps, and soon +regained the Waterport. There Mrs. Wilders hailed a native boat, and, +without condescending to notice the orderly further, she seated +herself in the stern-sheets and was rowed off to the <i>Arcadia</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>A SOUTHERN PEARL.</h3> + + +<p>"Mariquita! Ma—ri—kee—tah!"</p> + +<p>A woman's voice, shrill and quavering, with an accent of anger that +increased each time the summons was repeated.</p> + +<p>"What's come of the young vixen?" went on the speaker, addressing her +husband, the Tio Pedro, who sat with her behind the counter of a small +tobacconist's shop—an ugly beldame, shrank and shrivelled, with grey +elf-locks, sunk cheeks, and parchment complexion, looking ninety, yet +little more than half that age. Women ripen early, are soon at their +prime, and fade prematurely, under this quickening Southern sun.</p> + +<p>The husband was older, yet better preserved, than his wife—a large, +stout man, with a fierce face and black,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> baleful eyes. All cowered +before him except La Zandunga, as they called his wife here in +Bombardier Lane. He was at her mercy—a Spaniard resident on the Rock +by permit granted to his wife—a native of Gibraltar, and liable to be +expelled at any time unless she answered for him.</p> + +<p>The shop and stock-in-trade were hers, not his, and she ruled him and +the whole place.</p> + +<p>"Mariquita!" she called again and again, till at length, overflowing +with passion, she rushed from behind the counter into the premises at +the back of the shop.</p> + +<p>She entered a small but well-lighted room, communicating with a few +square feet of garden. At the end was a low fence; beyond this the +roadway intervening between the garden and the Line wall, or seaward +fortifications.</p> + +<p>La Zandunga looked hastily round the room. It contained half-a-dozen +small low tables, drawn near the window and open door, and at these +sat a posse of girls, busy with deft, nimble fingers, making +cigarettes and cigars. These workpeople were under the immediate +control of Mariquita, the mistress's niece. She was popular with them, +evidently, for no one would answer when La Zandunga shrieked out an +angry inquiry to each.</p> + +<p>No answer was needed. There was Mariquita at the end of the garden, +gossiping across the fence with young Sergeant McKay.</p> + +<p>It was quite an accident, of course. The serjeant,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> returning to his +quarters from Waterport, had seen Mariquita within, and made her a +signal she could not mistake.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would come out," he said, pleasantly, when she appeared, +shy and shrinking, yet with a glad light in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Vaya!</i> what conceit! I was seeking a flower in the garden," she +answered demurely; but her low voice and heightened colour plainly +showed that she was ready to come to him whenever he called—to follow +him, indeed, all over the world.</p> + +<p>She spoke in Spanish, with its high-flown epithets and exaggerated +metaphor, a language in which Stanislas McKay, from his natural +aptitude and this charming tutorship, had made excellent progress.</p> + +<p>"My life, my jewel, my pearl!" he cried.</p> + +<p>A pearl, indeed, incomparable and above price for all who could +appreciate the charms and graces of bright blooming girlhood.</p> + +<p>Mariquita Hidalgo was still in her teens—a woman full grown, but with +the frank, innocent face of a child. A slender figure, tall, but +well-rounded and beautifully poised, having the free, elastic movement +of her Spanish ancestors, whose women are the best walkers in the +world. She had, too, the olive complexion as clear and transparent as +wax, the full crimson lips, the magnificent eyes, dark and lustrous, +the indices of an ardent temperament capable of the deepest passion, +the strongest love, or fiercest hate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>A very gracious figure indeed was this splendid specimen of a handsome +race, as she stood there coyly talking to the man of her choice.</p> + +<p>The contrast was strongly marked between them. She, with raven hair, +dark skin, and soft brown eyes, was a perfect Southern brunette: +quick, impatient, impulsive, easily moved. He, fresh-coloured, +blue-eyed, with flaxen moustache, stalwart in frame, self-possessed, +reserved, almost cold and impassive in demeanour, was as excellent a +type of a native of the North.</p> + +<p>"What brings you this way, Señor don Sargento, at this time of day?" +said Mariquita. "Was it to see me? It was unwise, indiscreet; my +aunt—"</p> + +<p>"I have been on duty at Waterport," replied McKay, with a rather +ungallant frankness that made Mariquita pout.</p> + +<p>"It is plain I am only second in your thoughts. Duty—always duty. Why +did not you come last night to the Alameda when the band played?"</p> + +<p>"I could not, star of my soul! I was on guard."</p> + +<p>"Did I not say so?—duty again! And to-morrow? It is Sunday; you +promised to take me to Europa to see the great cave. Is that, too, +impossible?"</p> + +<p>McKay shook his head laughingly, and said—</p> + +<p>"You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be +deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly—"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>tishly. "Go about +your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas. +Benito will take me where I want to go."</p> + +<p>"I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company," +said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was +obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my +fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember, +I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive."</p> + +<p>"I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and +serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march—to India, +Constantinople, Russia—where can any one say?—and I shall never see +you more."</p> + +<p>This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and +half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win +promotion, fame—a better, higher, more honourable position for you to +share."</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her +resonant, unpleasant voice.</p> + +<p>"My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's +name!"</p> + +<p>The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse +of his retreating figure.</p> + +<p>"With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>nothing?" cried La +Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I +thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever +philandering and following you about—Who was it, I say?"</p> + +<p>Mariquita would not answer.</p> + +<p>"In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in +my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my +bounty—the home I give you—the bread you eat? Go in, jade, and earn +it, or I'll put you into the street."</p> + +<p>The girl, bending submissively under this storm of invective and +bitter reproach, walked slowly towards the house. Her aunt followed, +growling fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Cursed red-coat!—common, beggarly soldier! How can you, an Hidalgo +of the best blue blood, whose ancestors were settled here before the +English robbers stole the fortress—before the English?—before the +Moors! You, an Hidalgo, to take up with a base-born hireling +cut-throat—"</p> + +<p>"No more, aunt!" Mariquita turned on her with flashing eyes. "Call me +what you like, you shall not abuse him—my affianced lover—the man to +whom I have given my troth!"</p> + +<p>"What!" screamed the old crone, now furious with rage. "Do you dare +tell me that—to my face? Never, impudent huzzy—never, while I have +strength and spirit and power to say you no—shall you wed this hated +English mercenary—"</p> + +<p>"I will wed no one else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That will we see. Is not your hand promised—"</p> + +<p>"Not with my consent."</p> + +<p>"—Promised, formally, to Benito Villegas—my husband's cousin?"</p> + +<p>"I have not consented. Never shall I agree. Benito is a villain. I +hate and detest him!"</p> + +<p>"Tell him so to his face, evil-tongued slut!—tell him if you dare! He +is now in the house. That is why I came to fetch you. I saw him +approaching."</p> + +<p>"He knows my opinion of him, but if you wish it, aunt, he shall hear +it again," said the young girl, undaunted; and she walked on through +the workroom, straight into the little shop.</p> + +<p>Benito was seated at the counter, talking confidentially, and in a +very low voice, with Tio Pedro.</p> + +<p>"Are the bales ready, uncle? In two days from now we can run them +through like oil in a tube."</p> + +<p>"Have you settled the terms?"</p> + +<p>"On both sides. Here the inspectors were difficult, but I oiled their +palms. On the other side the Custom-house officers are my friends. All +is straight and easy. The tobacco must be shipped to-morrow—"</p> + +<p>"In the same <i>falucha</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; for Estepona. Be ready, then, at gunfire—"</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly as Mariquita came in.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful as a star!" was his greeting; and in a fulsome, familiar +tone he went on—"You are like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> sun at noon, my beauty, and burn +my heart with your bright eyes."</p> + +<p>"Insolent!" retorted Mariquita. "Hold your tongue."</p> + +<p>"What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest? Come, sit here on my +knee and listen, while I whisper some good news."</p> + +<p>"Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not +speak to you at all."</p> + +<p>"Good news! what then?" put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice.</p> + +<p>"My fortune is made. I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock. +Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la +Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please."</p> + +<p>"Fortunate girl!" said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita.</p> + +<p>"It does not affect me," replied the girl, with chilling contempt. +"Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to +offer, you should never call me yours."</p> + +<p>Benito's face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind her, my son," said the old man. "She has lost her senses: +the evil one has bitten her."</p> + +<p>"Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats," interposed his wife, +"who has cast a spell over her. I thought I saw him at the garden just +now. If I was only certain—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Silly girl, beware!" cried Benito, with bitter meaning. "I know him: +hateful, despicable hound! He is only trifling with you. He cares +nothing for you; you are not to his taste. What! He, a Northern +pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair! +Never! I know better. Only to-day I saw him with the woman he +prefers—a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself."</p> + +<p>He had touched the Southern woman's most sensitive chord. Jealousy +flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, +though she calmly answered—</p> + +<p>"It is not true."</p> + +<p>"Ask him yourself. I tell you I saw them together: first near our +stables, and then down by Waterport—a splendid woman!"</p> + +<p>Waterport! McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the +Rock. There was something in it, then. Was he playing her false? No. +She would trust him still.</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you, Benito. Such suspicions are worthy only of a +place in your false, black heart!" and with these words Mariquita +rushed away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>OFF TO THE WARS.</h3> + + +<p>Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, +where "lay" the Royal Picts—to use a soldier's phrase. The few words +let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay, had been +verified. "The route had come," and the regiment was under orders to +join the expeditionary army in the East.</p> + +<p>A splendid body, standing eight hundred strong on parade: strong, +stalwart fellows, all of them, bronzed and bearded, admirably +appointed, perfectly drilled—one of many such magnificent battalions, +the flower of the British army, worthily maintaining the reputation of +the finest infantry in the world.</p> + +<p>Alas! that long years of peace should have rusted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> administrative +machinery! That so many of these and other brave men should be +sacrificed before the year was out for want of food, fuel, and +clothing—the commonest supplies.</p> + +<p>There seemed little need to improve a military machine so perfect at +all its points. But the fastidious eye of Colonel Blythe, who +commanded the Royal Picts, saw many blemishes in his regiment, and he +was determined to make the most of the time still intervening before +embarkation. Parades were perpetual; for the inspection of arms and +accoutrements, for developing manual dexterity, and efficiency in +drill. Still he was not satisfied.</p> + +<p>"We must have a new sergeant-major," said the old martinet to his +adjutant in the orderly-room.</p> + +<p>The post was vacant for the moment through the promotion of its late +holder to be quartermaster.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; the sooner the better. The difficulty is to choose."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking it over, Smallfield, and have decided to promote +Hyde. Send for him."</p> + +<p>Colour-sergeant Hyde, erect, self-possessed—a pattern soldier in +appearance and propriety—presently marched in and stood respectfully +at "attention" before his superior.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant Hyde!" said the colonel, abruptly, "I am going to make you a +sergeant-major."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Hyde, saluting; "I had rather not take it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Heavens above!" cried the colonel, fiercely. He was of the old +school, and used expletives freely. "You must be an idiot!"</p> + +<p>"I am sensible, sir, of the honour you would do me, but—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man! I insist. I must have you."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Hyde, firmly, "I must decline the honour."</p> + +<p>"Was there ever such an extraordinary fellow? Why, man alive! it will +reinstate you—"</p> + +<p>"I must beg, sir," said Hyde, hastily interrupting, and looking with +intention towards the adjutant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I understand," said the colonel. "Leave us, Mr. Smallfield; +I wish to speak to Sergeant Hyde alone."</p> + +<p>"You have my secret, Colonel Blythe," said Hyde, when the adjutant had +left the room, "but I have your promise."</p> + +<p>"I was near forgetting it, I confess; but I was so upset, so put out, +at your cursed obstinacy. Why will you persist in keeping in the +background? Accept this promotion, and you shall have a commission +before the year is out."</p> + +<p>"I do not want a commission; I am perfectly happy as I am."</p> + +<p>"Was there ever such a pig-headed fellow? Come, Hyde, be persuaded." +The colonel got up from his seat and walked round to where the +sergeant stood, still erect and motionless. "Come, Rupert, old +com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>rade, old friend," and he put his hand affectionately on the +sergeant's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The muscles of the sergeant's face worked visibly.</p> + +<p>"It's no use, Blythe; I am dead to the world. I have no desire to +rise."</p> + +<p>"But it's so aggravating; it puts me in such a hole," said the +colonel, striding up and down the office. "You're just the man we +want—superior in every way. You would hold your own so well with the +other non-commissioned officers. I do wish—Where am I to find +another?"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you, if you will listen to my advice."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Speak out."</p> + +<p>"Young McKay; he would make an excellent sergeant-major."</p> + +<p>"I know him—a smart, sensible, intelligent young fellow. But has he +ballast—education?"</p> + +<p>"He is better born than you or me, colonel. A lad of excellent parts +and first-rate education. Bring him on, and he will do you and the +regiment credit yet."</p> + +<p>The colonel sat down again at his desk, and seemed lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"I must ask Smallfield. Call in the adjutant, will you?" he added, in +a voice that implied their conventional relations as superior officer +and sergeant were resumed.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later McKay was standing in Hyde's place, receiving the +same offer, but accepting, although diffidently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am not fit for the post, sir," he protested.</p> + +<p>"That's my affair. I have selected you for reasons of my own, and the +responsibility is mine."</p> + +<p>"I will try my best, sir; that is all I can say."</p> + +<p>"It's quite enough. Do your best, and you will satisfy me."</p> + +<p>"I can't think why he chose me," confided Stanislas to his friend +Hyde, later on, in the sergeants' mess.</p> + +<p>"Can't you?" replied his friend, drily. "It's a case of hidden merit +receiving its right reward."</p> + +<p>"I have never thought that the colonel noticed me, or distinguished me +from any of the other sergeants," said Stanislas.</p> + +<p>"Probably your good qualities were pointed out to him," replied Hyde, +still in the same tone. "Or your fine friends and relations have used +their influence."</p> + +<p>"It is little likely; and, as I tell you, I don't understand it in the +least."</p> + +<p>"Leave it so. No doubt you will find out some day. In the meantime do +justice to your recommendation, whoever gave it. You have got your +foot on the ladder now, but no one can help you to climb; that must +depend upon your own exertions."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you can help me, Hyde, with your advice, encouragement, +support. I am very young to be put up so high, and over men of +standing and experience like yourself."</p> + +<p>"You will have no more loyal subordinate than me, Sergeant-major +McKay. Come to me whenever you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> are in trouble or doubt. I will do all +I can, you may depend. I like you, boy, and that's enough said."</p> + +<p>The old sergeant seized McKay's hand, shook it warmly, and then +abruptly quitted the room.</p> + +<p>Stanislas was eager to tell this pleasing news of his promotion to +Mariquita; but she was the last person to hear it, notwithstanding. +McKay entered at once upon his new duties, and they kept him close +from morning till night. A good sergeant-major allows himself no +leisure. He is the first on parade, the last to leave it. He is +perpetually on the move; now inspecting guards and pickets, now +superintending drills, while all day long he has his eye upon the +conduct of the non-commissioned officers, and the demeanour and dress +of the private men.</p> + +<p>There was no time to hang about the tobacconist's shop in Bombardier +Lane, waiting furtively for a chance of seeing Mariquita alone. They +kept their eye upon her, too; and when at last he tore himself away +from his new and absorbing duties he paid two or three visits to the +place before he could speak to her.</p> + +<p>Mariquita received him coldly—distantly.</p> + +<p>They were standing, as usual, on each side of the low fence at the end +of the garden.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, little star? How have I offended you?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder that you trouble to come here at all, Don Stanislas. It's +more than a week since I you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have been so busy. My new duties: they have made me, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Throw that bone to some other dog," interrupted Mariquita, abruptly. +"I am to be no longer deceived by your pretended duties. I know the +truth: you prefer some other girl."</p> + +<p>"Mariquita!" protested McKay.</p> + +<p>"I have heard all. Do not try to deny it. She is tall and fair; one of +your compatriots. You were seen together."</p> + +<p>"Where, pray? Who has told you this nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"At Waterport. Benito saw you."</p> + +<p>McKay laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"I see it all. Why, you foolish, jealous Mariquita, that was my +general's wife—a great lady. I was attending and following her about +like a lackey. I would not dare to lift my eyes to her even if I +wished, which is certainly not the case."</p> + +<p>Mariquita was beginning to relent. Her big eyes filled with tear, and +she said in a broken voice, as though this quarrel with her lover had +pained her greatly—</p> + +<p>"Oh, oily-tongued! if only I could believe you!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course it's true. Surely you would not let that villain +Benito make mischief between us? But, there; time is too precious to +waste in silly squabbles. I can't stay long; I can't tell when I shall +come again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is your love beginning to cool, Stanislas? If so, we had better part +before—"</p> + +<p>"Listen, dearest," interrupted McKay; "I have good news for you," and +he told her of his unexpected promotion, and of the excellent +prospects it held forth.</p> + +<p>"I am nearly certain to win a commission before very long. Now that we +are going to the war—"</p> + +<p>"The war!" Mariquita's face turned ghastly white; she put her hand +upon her heart, and was on the point of falling to the ground when +McKay vaulted lightly over the fence and saved her by putting his arm +round her waist.</p> + +<p>"Idiot that I was to blurt it out like that, after thinking all the +week how best to break the news! Mariquita! Mariquita! speak to me, I +implore you!"</p> + +<p>But the poor child was too much overcome to reply, and he led her, +dazed and half-fainting, to a little seat near the house, where, with +soft caresses and endearing words, he sought to restore her to +herself.</p> + +<p>"The war!" she said, at length. "It has come, then, the terrible news +that I have so dreaded. We are to part, and I shall never, never see +you again."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense, Mariquita! Be brave! Remember you are to be a +soldier's wife. Be brave, I say."</p> + +<p>"They will kill you! Oh! if they only dared, I would be revenged!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, my pet! that is the proper spirit. You would fight the +Russians, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I would do anything, Stanislas, to help you, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> shield you from +harm. Why can't I go with you? Who knows! I +might save you. I, a weak, helpless girl, would be strong if you were +in danger. I am ready, Stanislas, to sacrifice my life for yours."</p> + +<p>Greatly touched by the deep devotion displayed by these sweet words, +McKay bent his head and kissed her on the lips.</p> + +<p>But at this moment the tender scene was abruptly ended by the shrill, +strident tones of La Zandunga's voice.</p> + +<p>"So I have caught you, shameless girl, philandering again with this +rascally red-coat. May he die in a dog-kennel! Here, in my very house! +But, I promise you, it is for the last time. <i>Hola!</i> Benito! Pedro! +help!" and, screaming wildly, the old crone tore Mariquita from +McKay's side and dragged her into the house.</p> + +<p>The young sergeant, eager to protect his love from ill-usage, would +have followed, but he was confronted by Benito, who now stood in the +doorway, black and menacing, with a great two-edged Albacete knife in +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Stand back, miscreant, hated Englishman, or I will stab you to the +heart."</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted by the threat, McKay advanced boldly on Benito; with +one hand he caught his would-be assailant by the throat; with the +other the wrist that was lifted to strike. A few seconds more, and +Benito had measured his length on the ground, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> his murderous +weapon had passed into the possession of McKay.</p> + +<p>Having thus disposed of one opponent, McKay met a second, in the +person of Tio Pedro, who, slower in his movements, had also come out +in answer to his wife's appeal.</p> + +<p>"Who are you that dares to intrude here?" asked Pedro, roughly. "I +will complain to the town major, and have you punished for this."</p> + +<p>"Look to yourself, rather!" replied McKay, hotly. "I stand too high to +fear your threats. But you, thief and smuggler, I will bring the +police upon you and your accomplice, who has just tried to murder me +with his knife."</p> + +<p>Tio Pedro turned ghastly pale at the sergeant-major's words. He had +evidently no wish for a domiciliary visit, and would have been glad to +be well rid of McKay.</p> + +<p>"Let him be! Let him be!" he said, attempting to pacify Benito, who, +smarting from his recent overthrow, seemed ready to renew the +struggle. "Let him be! It is all a mistake. The gentleman has +explained his business here, and nothing more need be said."</p> + +<p>"Nothing more!" hissed Benito, between his teeth. "Not when he has +insulted me—struck me! Nothing more! We shall have to settle accounts +together, he and I. Look to yourself Señor Englishman. There is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> no +bond that does not some day run out; no debt that is never paid."</p> + +<p>McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little +longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house.</p> + +<p>It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again +before his departure. The few short days intervening before +embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost +wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and +visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible, +and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one +good-bye.</p> + +<p>But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart. As the +regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down +to the New Mole, where the transport-ship awaited it, an excited +throng of spectators lined the way. Colonel Blythe headed his +regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation, +marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head +high, proudly conscious of his honourable position. The colonel and +the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as +they passed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream.</p> + +<p>He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared +face and streaming eyes.</p> + +<p>What could he do? It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible +to emotion. But this was more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> than mortal man could do. He paused, +lingering irresolutely, when the colonel noticed his agitation, and +quickly guessed the exact state of the case.</p> + +<p>"'The girl I left behind me,' eh, sergeant-major? Well, fall out for a +minute or two, if you like"—and, with this kindly and considerate +permission, McKay took Mariquita aside to make his last <i>adieux</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>Adios! vida mia</i>" [good-bye, my life], he was saying, when the poor +girl almost fainted in his arms.</p> + +<p>He looked round, greatly perplexed, and happily his eye fell upon +Sergeant Hyde.</p> + +<p>"Here, Hyde," he said, "take charge of this dear girl."</p> + +<p>"What! sergeant-major, have you been caught in the toils of one of +these bright-eyed damsels? It is well we have got the route. They are +dangerous cattle, these women; and, if you let them, will hang like a +mill-stone round a soldier's neck."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! man, don't moralise. This girl is my heart's choice. Please +Heaven I may return to console her for present sorrow. But I can't +wait. Help me: I can trust you. See Mariquita safely back to her home, +and then join us on board."</p> + +<p>"I shall be taken up as a deserter."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I will see to that with the adjutant. We do not sail for +two hours at least; you will have plenty of time."</p> + +<p>Sergeant Hyde, although unwillingly, accepted the trust, and thus met +Mariquita for the first time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>A GENERAL ACTION.</h3> + + +<p>A long low line of coast trending along north and south as far as the +eye could reach; nearest at hand a strip of beach, smooth shingle cast +up by the surf of westerly gales; next, a swelling upland, dotted with +grazing cattle, snug homesteads, and stacks of hay and corn; beyond, a +range of low hills, steep-faced and reddish-hued.</p> + +<p>The Crimea! The land of promise; the great goal to which the thoughts +of every man in two vast hosts had been turned for many months past. +On the furze-clad common of Chobham camp, on the long voyage out, at +Gallipoli, while eating out their hearts at irritating inaction; on +the sweltering, malarious Bulgarian plains, fever-stricken and +cholera-cursed; at Varna,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> waiting impatiently, almost hopelessly, for +orders to sail, twenty thousand British soldiers of all ranks had +longed to look upon this Crimean shore. It was here, so ran the common +rumour, that the chief power of the mighty Czar was concentrated; here +stood Sebastopol, the famous fortress, the great stronghold and +arsenal of Southern Russia; here, at length, the opposing forces would +join issue, and the allies, after months of tedious expectation, would +find themselves face to face with their foe.</p> + +<p>No wonder, then, that hearts beat high as our men gazed eagerly upon +the Crimea. The prospect southward was still more calculated to stir +emotion. The whole surface of that Eastern sea was covered with the +navies of the Western Powers. The long array stretched north and south +for many a mile; it extended westward, far back to the distant +horizon, and beyond: a countless forest of masts, a jumble of sails +and smoke-stacks, a crowd of fighting-ships and transports, +three-deckers, frigates, great troopers, ocean steamers, full-rigged +ships—an Armada such as the world had never seen before. A grand +display of naval power, a magnificent expedition marshalled with +perfect precision, moving by day in well-kept parallel lines; at +night, motionless, and studding the sea with a "second heaven of +stars."</p> + +<p>Day dawned propitious on the morning of the landing: a bright, and +soon fierce, sun rose on a cloudless sky. At a given signal the boats +were lowered—a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> nearly countless flotilla; the troops went overboard +silently and with admirable despatch, and all again, by signal, +started in one long perfect line for the shore. Within an hour the +boats were beached, the troops sprang eagerly to land, and the +invasion was completed without accident, and unopposed.</p> + +<p>The Royal Picts, coming straight from Gibraltar, had joined the +expedition at Varna without disembarking. The regiment had thus been +long on ship-board, but it had lost none of its smartness, and formed +up on the beach with as much precision as on the South Barracks +parade. It fell into its place at once, upon the right of General +Wilders's brigade, and that gallant officer was not long in welcoming +it to his command.</p> + +<p>Everyone was in the highest health and spirits, overflowing with +excitement and enthusiasm. At the appearance of their general, the +men, greatly to his annoyance, set up a wild, irregular cheer.</p> + +<p>"Silence, men, silence! It is most unsoldierlike. Keep your shouting +till you charge. Here, Colonel Blythe, we will get rid of a little of +this superfluous energy. Advance, in skirmishing order, to the +plateau, and hold it. There are Cossacks about, and the landing is not +yet completed. But do not advance beyond the plateau. You understand?"</p> + +<p>The regiment promptly executed the manœuvre indicated, and gained +the rising ground. The view thence inland was more extended, and at no +great distance a road crossed, along which was seen a long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> line of +native carts, toiling painfully, and escorted by a few of the enemy's +horse.</p> + +<p>"We must have those carts." The speaker was a staff-officer, the +quartermaster-general, an eagle-eyed, decisive-speaking, short, +slender man, who was riding a splendid charger, which he sat to +perfection. "Colonel Blythe! send forward your right company at the +double, and capture them."</p> + +<p>"My brigadier ordered me not to advance," replied the old colonel, +rather stolidly.</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you; I will take the responsibility. But look sharp!"</p> + +<p>Already, no doubt under orders from the escort, the drivers were +unharnessing their teams, with the idea of making off with the cattle. +The skirmishers of the Royal Picts advanced quickly within range, and +opened fire—the first shots these upon Russian soil—and some of them +took effect. The carts were abandoned, and speedily changed masters.</p> + +<p>"We shall want those carts," said old Hyde, abruptly, to his friend +the sergeant-major. They had watched this little episode together.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose they will come in useful."</p> + +<p>"I should think so. Are you aware that this fine force of ours is +quite without transport? At least, I have seen none. Do you know what +that means?"</p> + +<p>"That we shall have to be our own beasts of burden," said McKay, +laughing, as he touched his havresack. It was comfortably lined with +biscuit and cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> salt pork—three days' rations, and the only food +that he or his comrades were likely to get for some time.</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of roughing it," said the old soldier. "I have done +that often enough. We have got our greatcoats and blankets, and I +daresay we shan't hurt; but I have seen something of campaigning, and +I tell you honestly I don't like the way in which we have started on +this job."</p> + +<p>"What an inveterate old grumbler you are, Hyde! Besides, what right +have you to criticise the general and his plans?"</p> + +<p>"We have entered into this business a great deal too lightly, I am +quite convinced of that," said Hyde, positively. "There has been no +sufficient preparation."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man! They have been months getting the expedition ready."</p> + +<p>"And still it is wanting in the most necessary things. It has to trust +to luck for its transport," and the old sergeant pointed with his +thumb to the captured carts. "We may, perhaps, get as many more; but, +even then, there won't be enough to supply us with food if we go much +further inland; we may never see our knapsacks again, or our tents."</p> + +<p>"We shan't want them; it won't do us any harm to sleep in the open. +Napoleon always said that the bivouac was the finest training for +troops."</p> + +<p>"You will be glad enough of shelter, sergeant-major, before to-night's +out, mark my words! The French<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> are better off than we are; they have +got everything to their hands—their shelter-tents, knapsacks, and +all. They understand campaigning; I think we have forgotten the art."</p> + +<p>"As if we have anything to learn from the French!" said the +self-satisfied young Briton, by way of ending the conversation.</p> + +<p>But Sergeant Hyde was right, so far as the need for shelter was +concerned. As evening closed in, heavy clouds came up from the sea, +and it rained in torrents all night.</p> + +<p>A miserable night it was! The whole army lay exposed to the fury of +the elements on the bleak hillside, drenched to the skin, in pools and +watercourses, under saturated blankets, without fuel, or the chance of +lighting a bivouac fire. It was the same for all; the generals of +division, high staff-officers, colonels, captains, and private men. +The first night on Crimean soil was no bad precursor of the dreadful +winter still to come.</p> + +<p>Next day the prospect brightened a little. The sun came out and dried +damp clothes; tents were landed, only to be re-embarked when the army +commenced its march. This was on the third day after disembarkation, +when, with all the pomp and circumstance of a parade movement, the +allied generals advanced southward along the coast. They were in +search of an enemy which had shown a strange reluctance to come to +blows, and had already missed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> splendid opportunity of interfering +with the landing.</p> + +<p>The place of honour in the order of march was assigned to the English, +who were on the left, with that flank unprotected and "in the air"; on +their right marched the French; on whose right, again, the Turks; then +came the sea. Moving parallel with the land-forces, the allied fleets +held undisputed dominion of the waters. A competent critic could +detect no brilliant strategy in the operations so far; no astute, +carefully calculated plan directed the march. One simple and primitive +idea possessed the minds of the allied commanders, and that was to +come to close quarters, and fight the Russians wherever they could be +found.</p> + +<p>There could be only one termination to such a military policy as this +when every hour lessened the distance between the opposing forces. At +the end of the first day's march, most toilsome and trying to troops +still harassed by fell disease, it was plain that the enemy were close +at hand. Large bodies of their cavalry hung black and menacing along +our front—the advance guards these of a large force in position +behind. Any moment might bring on a collision. It was nearly +precipitated, and prematurely, by the action of our horse—a small +handful of cavalry, led by a fiery impatient soldier, eager, like all +under his command, to cross swords with the enemy.</p> + +<p>A couple of English cavalry regiments had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> pushed forward to +reconnoitre the strength of the Russians. The horsemen rode out in +gallant style, but were checked by artillery fire; a British battery +galloped up and replied. Presently the round-shot bounded like cricket +balls, but at murderous pace, across the plain. More cavalry went +forward on our side, and two whole infantry divisions, in one of which +was the Royal Picts, followed in support.</p> + +<p>Surely a battle was close at hand. But nothing came of this +demonstration. Why, was not quite clear, till Hugo Wilders, who was a +captain in the Royal Lancers, came galloping by, and exchanged a few +hasty words with the general, his cousin Bill.</p> + +<p>"What's up, Hugo?" The general was riding just in front of the Royal +Picts, and his words were heard by many of the regiment.</p> + +<p>"Just fancy! we were on the point of having a brush with the Cossacks, +when Lord Raglan came up and spoiled the fun."</p> + +<p>"Do you know why?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I heard him talking to our general—I am galloping, you know, +for Lord Cardigan, who was mad to be at them, I can tell you, but he +wasn't allowed."</p> + +<p>"They were far too strong for you; I could see that myself."</p> + +<p>"That's what Lord Raglan said. As if any one of us was not good enough +for twenty Russians! But he was particularly anxious, so I heard him +say, not to be drawn into an action to-day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No doubt he was right," replied old Wilders. "Only it can't be put +off much longer. Unless I am greatly mistaken, to-morrow we shall be +at it hammer and tongs."</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall be somewhere near!" cried Hugo, gaily. "But where are +the Royal Picts? Oh! here! I want to give Anastasius good-day."</p> + +<p>He found his younger brother was carrying the regimental colours, and +the two young fellows exchanged pleasant greetings. It was quite a +little family party, for just behind, in the centre of the line, stood +Sergeant-major McKay, the unacknowledged cousin. How many of these +four Wilders would be alive next night?</p> + +<p>No doubt a battle was imminent. It was more than possible that there +would be a night attack, so both armies bivouacked in order of battle, +ready to stand up in their places and fight at the first alarm.</p> + +<p>But the night passed uneventfully. At daybreak the march was resumed, +and the day was still young when the allies came upon what seemed a +position of immense strength, occupied in force by the Russian troops.</p> + +<p>It was a broad barrier of hills, at right angles with the coast, lying +straight athwart our line of march. The hills, highest and steepest +near the water's edge, were still difficult in the centre, where the +great high road to Sebastopol pierced the position by a deep defile; +beyond the road, slopes more gentle ended on the outer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> flank in the +tall buttresslike Kourgané Hill. All along the front ran a rapid +river, the Alma, in a deep channel. Villages nestled on its banks—one +near the sea, one midway, one on the extreme right; and all about the +low ground rich vegetation flourished, in garden, vineyard, and copse.</p> + +<p>These were the heights of the Alma—historic ground, hallowed by many +memories of grim contest, vain prowess, glorious deeds, fell carnage, +and hideous death.</p> + +<p>"We are in for it now, my boy," whispered Sergeant Hyde, who was one +of the colour-party, and stood in the centre of the column, near +McKay.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked the young sergeant-major eagerly. "A fight?"</p> + +<p>"More than that—a general action. In another hour or two we shall be +engaged hotly along the whole line. Some of us will lose the number of +our mess before the day is done."</p> + +<p>The Royal Picts formed part of the second division, under the command +of Sir de Lacy Evans, a fine old soldier, who had seen service for +half a century. This division was on the right of the English army. On +the left of Sir de Lacy Evans was the Light Division, beyond that the +Highlanders and Guards. The Third Division was in reserve behind the +Second, the Fourth far in the rear, still near the sea-shore.</p> + +<p>The march had hitherto been in columns, a dispo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>sition that lent +itself readily to deployment into line—the traditional formation, +peculiar to the British arms, and the inevitable prelude to an attack.</p> + +<p>The order now given to form line was, therefore, promptly recognised +as the signal for the approaching struggle. It was rendered the more +necessary by the galling fire opened upon our troops by the enemy's +batteries, which crowned every point of vantage on the hills in front.</p> + +<p>Grandly, and with admirable precision, the three leading divisions of +the British army formed themselves into the historic "Thin Red Line," +renowned in the annals of European warfare, from Blenheim to Waterloo.</p> + +<p>This beautiful line, so slender, yet so imposing in its simple, +unsupported strength, was more than two miles long, and faced the +right half of the Russian position. As the divisions stood, the Guards +and Highlanders confronted the Kourgané Hill, with its greater and +lesser redoubts, armed with heavy guns and held by dense columns of +the enemy. Next them was the Light Division, facing the vineyards and +hamlets to the left of the great high road; before them were other +earth-works, manned by a no less formidable garrison and artillery. +The Second Division lay across the high road, opposite the village of +Bourliouk, high above which was an eighteen-gun battery and great +masses of Russian troops.</p> + +<p>General Wilders's brigade was on the extreme right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> of the British +front; its right regiment was the Royal Picts, the very centre this of +the battle-field, midway between the sea and the far left; and here +the allied generals had their last meeting before the combat +commenced.</p> + +<p>A single figure, sitting straight and soldier-like in his saddle, with +white hair blanched in the service of his country—a service fraught +with the perils and penalties of war, as the empty sleeve bore +witness—this single figure rode a little in advance of the British +staff. It was Fitzroy Somerset, now Lord Raglan, the close comrade and +trusted friend of the Iron Duke, by whose side he had ridden in every +action in Spain. His face was passive and serene. Contentment shone in +every feature. His martial spirit was stirred by the sights and sounds +of battle, once so familiar to him, but now for forty years unheard. +But the calm demeanour, the quiet voice, the steady, unflinching gaze, +all indicating a noble unconsciousness of danger, were those of the +chance rider in Rotten Row, not of a great commander carrying his own +life and that of thousands in his hand.</p> + +<p>The man who came to meet him was a soldier too, but of a different +type, cast in another mould—a Frenchman, emotional, easily excited, +quick in gesture, rapid-speaking, with a restless, fiery eye. St. +Arnaud, too, had long tried the fortunes of war. His was an intrepid, +eager spirit, but he was torn and convulsed with the tortures of a +mortal sickness, and at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> times, even at this triumphant hour, his face +was drawn and pale with inward agony.</p> + +<p>They were near enough, these supreme chiefs, for their conversation, +or parts of it, to be heard around. But they spoke in French, and few +but McKay understood the purport of all they said.</p> + +<p>"I am ready to advance at any moment," said Lord Raglan. "I am only +waiting for the development of your attack."</p> + +<p>"Bosquet started an hour ago, but he has a tremendous climb up those +cliffs."</p> + +<p>It was General Bosquet's business to assault the left of the Russian +position, strong in natural obstacles, and almost inaccessible to +troops.</p> + +<p>At this moment an aide-de-camp ventured to ride forward to his +general's side, and said—</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that firing, my lord? I think the French on the right are +warmly engaged."</p> + +<p>"Are they?" replied Lord Raglan, doubtfully; "I can't catch any return +fire."</p> + +<p>"In any case," observed St. Arnaud, quickly, "it is time to lend him a +hand. The Prince Napoleon and Canrobert shall now advance."</p> + +<p>"The sooner the better," said Lord Raglan, simply; "I must wait till +their attack is developed before I can move."</p> + +<p>"You shall not wait long, my friend."</p> + +<p>The next instant the French mounted messengers were scouring the +plain. St. Arnaud paused a moment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> then, gathering up his reins, he +put spurs to his horse and galloped away, saluted as he went by a loud +and hearty cheer.</p> + +<p>The sound must have gladdened the heart of the gallant Frenchman, for +he promptly reined in his horse, and, rising in his stirrups, +responded with a loud "Hurrah for Old England!" given in ringing +tones, and in excellent English. Then, still followed by cheers, he +went on his way.</p> + +<p>It is but poor fun waiting while others begin a great game—poor fun +and dangerous too, as the English line presently realised, while they +looked impatiently for the order to advance. The Russian gunners had +got their range, and were already plying them with shot and shell. At +the first gun, fired evidently at the British staff, Lord Raglan, as +cool and self-possessed as ever, turned to General Wilders, and said, +briefly—</p> + +<p>"Your men had better lie down."</p> + +<p>"May I not cast loose cartridges first, my lord?" said the old +soldier, anxious to prepare for the serious business of the day.</p> + +<p>"With all my heart! But be quick; they must not stand up here to be +shot at for nothing." Then Lord Raglan himself, erect and fearless, +resumed his observation of the advancing French columns.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! how slow they are!" cried the eager voice of Airey, the +quartermaster-general.</p> + +<p>"Look! they are checked!" said another; "they can't stomach the +climb."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have a tough job before them," said a third. "It will try them +hard."</p> + +<p>That the French were in difficulties was evident, for now an +aide-de-camp came galloping from Bosquet with the grave news that the +division was in danger. He was followed by another prominent person on +St. Arnaud's staff, bringing an earnest entreaty that the English +should not delay their advance. A fierce storm of iron hail, moreover, +made inaction more and more intolerable.</p> + +<p>The time was come! Lord Raglan turned and spoke five words to General +Airey. The next minute staff-officers were galloping to each division +with the glad tidings: "The line will advance!"</p> + +<p>All along it men rose from the ground with a resolute air, fell into +their ranks, and then the "Thin Red Line," having a front of two miles +and a depth of two men, marched grandly to the fight.</p> + +<p>It is with the doings of the Second Division, or more exactly with +Wilders's brigade of that body, that we are now principally concerned.</p> + +<p>The task before it was arduous and full of danger, demanding devoted +courage and unflinching hearts.</p> + +<p>At the moment of the advance the village immediately in front of them +burst into flames—a fierce conflagration, lighted by the retreating +foe. The dense columns of smoke hid the batteries beyond, and +magnified the dangers of attack; the fierce fire narrowed the path of +progress and squeezed in the advancing line.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> On the left, the Light +Division, moving forward with equal determination, still further +limited the ground for action; and, thus straitened and compressed, +the division marched upon a small front swept by a converging fire. So +cruelly hampered was the Second Division, so stinted in breathing +space, that a portion of General Wilders's command was shut out of the +advancing line, and circled round the right of the burning village.</p> + +<p>In this way the Royal Picts got divided; part went with the right of +the brigade, still under the personal direction of its brigadier; part +stuck to the main body, and followed on with the general tide of +advance. With the latter went the headquarters of the regiment; its +colonel, colours, and sergeant-major.</p> + +<p>They were travelling into the very jaws of death, as it seemed. +Progress was slow, and hindered by many vexatious obstacles—low walls +and brushwood, ruined cottages, and many dangerous pitfalls on the +vine-clad slopes—obstacles that forbade all speed, yet gave no cover +from the pitiless fire that searched every corner, and mowed men down +like grass.</p> + +<p>Casualties were terribly numerous; yet still the line, undaunted but +with sadly decreasing numbers, kept on its perilous way. Presently, +having won through the broken ground, a new barrier interposed. They +came upon the rapid river, rushing between steep banks, and deep +enough to drown all who risked the fords. But there was no pause or +hesitation; the men plunged bravely into the water, and, battling +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> the torrent, crossed, not without difficulty and serious loss.</p> + +<p>Colonel Blythe, with the Royal Picts, was one of the first men over. +He rode a snow-white charger, which he put bravely at the steep bank, +and clambered up with the coolness of one who rode well to hounds. He +gained the top, and served as a rallying-point for the shattered +remnant of his regiment, which there quickly re-formed with as much +coolness and fastidious nicety as on a barrack-square at home.</p> + +<p>They were under shelter here, and, pausing to recover breath, could +look round and watch how the fight fared towards the left.</p> + +<p>At this moment the Light Division had effected a lodgment in the great +redoubt; but, even while they gazed, the Russian reserves were forcing +back the too-presumptuous few. Behind, a portion of the brigade of +Guards was advancing to reinforce the wavering line and renew the +attack. Beyond, further on the left, in an échelon, advanced three +lines, one behind the other, the Highlanders and their stout leader, +Sir Colin Campbell.</p> + +<p>It was only a passing glimpse, however, that our friends obtained. +Their leader knew that the fortunes of the day were still in doubt, +and that every man must throw his weight into the scale if victory was +to be assured.</p> + +<p>The line was again ordered to advance. The slope was steeper now; they +were scaling, really, the heights<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> themselves. Just above them yawned +the mouths of the heavy guns that had been dealing such havoc while +they were painfully threading the intricacies of the low ground.</p> + +<p>"We must drive them out of that!" shouted old Blythe. "That battery +has been playing the mischief with us all along. Now, lads, shoulder +to shoulder; reserve your fire till we are at close quarters, then +give them the cold steel!"</p> + +<p>The Royal Picts set up a ringing cheer in cordial response to their +chieftain's call. The cheer passed quickly along the line, and all +again pressed forward in hot haste, with set teeth, and bayonets at +the charge.</p> + +<p>A withering fire of small arms met the Royal Picts as they approached +the battery; it was followed by the deafening roar of artillery; and +the murderous fire of the guns, great and small, nearly annihilated +the gallant band. Small wonder, then, that the survivors halted +irresolute, half disposed to turn back. Colonel Blythe was down. They +missed his encouraging voice; his noble figure was no more visible, +while his fine old white charger, riderless, his flanks streaming with +gore, was galloping madly down the hill. Many more officers were laid +low by this murderous discharge; amongst others, Anastasius Wilders +had fallen, severely wounded, and his blood had spurted out in a great +pool upon the colour he carried.</p> + +<p>All this happened in less time than it takes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> describe. It was one +of those moments of dire emergency, of great opportunity—suddenly +arising, gone as swiftly beyond recall, unless snatched up and dealt +with by a prompt, audacious spirit.</p> + +<p>Young McKay saw it with the unerring instinct of a true soldier. He +acted instantaneously, and with bold decision.</p> + +<p>Stooping over his prostrate cousin, who lay entangled amidst the folds +of the now crimson silk, he gently detached the colour, and, raising +it aloft, cried—</p> + +<p>"Come on, Royal Picts!"</p> + +<p>The men knew his voice, and, weakened, though not dispirited, they +gallantly responded to the appeal. Once more the line pressed forward. +The short space between them and the earthwork was quickly traversed. +Before the artillery could deal out a second salvo, the Royal Picts +were over the parapet and in the thick of the Russians, bayoneting +them as they stood at their guns.</p> + +<p>The battery was won.</p> + +<p>"Well done, sergeant-major—right well done! I saw it all. It shan't +be forgotten if we two come out of this alive!"</p> + +<p>The speaker was Colonel Blythe, who, happily, although dismounted by +the shot that wounded his horse, had so far escaped unhurt.</p> + +<p>"But this is no time for compliments; we must look to ourselves. The +enemy is still in great strength. They are bringing up the reserves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Above the battery a second line of columns loomed large and menacing. +Was this gallant handful of Englishmen, which had so courageously +gained a footing in the enemy's works, to bear the brunt of a fresh +conflict with a new and perfectly fresh foe? The situation was +critical. To advance would be madness; retreat was not to be thought +of; yet it might cost them their lives to maintain the ground they +held.</p> + +<p>While they paused in anxious debate, there came sounds of firing from +their right, aimed evidently at the Russians in front of them, for the +shot and shell ploughed through the ranks of the foe.</p> + +<p>"What guns can those be?" asked Colonel Blythe. "They are catching +them nicely in flank."</p> + +<p>"French, sir, I expect," replied McKay. "That is the side of their +attack."</p> + +<p>"Those are English guns, I feel sure. I know the crack they make."</p> + +<p>He was right; the guns belonged to Turner's battery, brought up at the +most opportune juncture by Lord Raglan's express commands. To +understand their appearance, and the important part they played in +deciding the battle on this portion of the field, we must follow the +other wing of the Royal Picts, which, when separated from the rest of +the brigade, passed round the right flank of the village.</p> + +<p>Hyde was with this detachment, and, as he afterwards told McKay, he +saw Lord Raglan and his staff ride forward, alone and unprotected, +across the river,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> straight into the enemy's position. In the river +two of his staff were shot down, and the commander-in-chief promptly +realised the meaning of this fire.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he cried. "If they can enfilade us here, we can certainly +enfilade them on the rising ground above. Bring up some guns!"</p> + +<p>It was not easy travelling for artillery, but Turner was a man whom no +difficulties dismayed. Within an hour a couple of his guns had been +dragged up the steep gradient, were unlimbered, and served by the +officers themselves.</p> + +<p>It was the fire of this artillery that relieved the Royal Picts of +their most serious apprehensions. It tided them over the last critical +phase of the hotly-contested action, and completed the discomfiture of +the enemy on this side.</p> + +<p>Matters had gone no less prosperously on the left. The renewed attack +of the Light Division, supported by the Guards, had ended in the +capture of the great redoubt; while Sir Colin Campbell, a veteran +warrior, at the head of his "bare-legged savages," as they were +christened by their affrighted foe, had made himself master of the +Kourgané Hill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>AFTER THE BATTLE.</h3> + + +<p>The Battle of the Alma was won! Three short hours had sufficed to +finish it, and by four o'clock the enemy was in full retreat. It was a +flight rather than a retreat—a headlong, ignominious stampede, in +which the fugitives cast aside their arms, accoutrements, knapsacks, +everything that could hinder them as they ran. Pursuit, if promptly +and vigorously carried out, would assuredly have cost them dear. But +the allies were short of cavalry; the British, greatly weakened by +their losses in this hard-fought field, could spare no fresh troops to +follow; the French, although they had scarcely suffered, and had a +large force available, would do nothing more; St. Arnaud declared +pursuit impossible, and this, the first fatal error in the campaign,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +allowed the beaten general to draw off his shattered battalions.</p> + +<p>But, if the allied leaders rejected the more abiding and substantial +fruits of victory, they did not disdain the intoxicating but empty +glories of an ovation from their troops. The generals were everywhere +received with loud acclaims.</p> + +<p>Deafening cheers greeted Lord Raglan as he rode slowly down the line. +The cry was taken up by battalion after battalion, and went echoing +along—the splendid, hearty applause of men who were glorifying their +own achievements as well.</p> + +<p>There was joy on the face of every man who had come out of the fight +unscathed—the keen satisfaction of success, gloriously but hardly +earned. Warm greetings were interchanged by all who met and talked +together. Thus Lord Raglan and Sir Colin Campbell, both Peninsular +veterans, shook hands in memory of comradeship on earlier fields. Few +indeed had thus fought together before; but none were less cordial in +their expressions of thankfulness and cordial good-will. They told +each other of their adventures in the day—its episodes, perils, +narrow, hair-breadth escapes! they inquired eagerly for friends; and +then, as they learnt gradually the whole terrible truth, the awful +price at which victory had been secured, moments that had been radiant +grew overcast, and short-lived gladness fled.</p> + +<p>"Next to a battle lost, nothing is so dreadful as a battle won," said +Wellington, at the end, too, of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> most triumphant day. The +slaughter is a sad set-off against the glory; groans of anguish are +the converse of exulting cheers. The field of conquest was stained +with the life's blood of thousands. The dead lay all around; some on +their backs, calmly sleeping as though death had inflicted no pangs; +the bodies of others were writhed and twisted with the excruciating +agony of their last hour. The wounded in every stage of suffering +strewed the ground, mutilated by round shot and shell, shattered by +grape, cut and slashed and stabbed by bayonet and sword.</p> + +<p>Their cries, the loud shriek of acute pain, the long-drawn moan of +the dying, the piercing appeal of those conscious, but unable to move, +filled every echo, and one of the first and most pressing duties for +all who could be spared was to afford help and succour.</p> + +<p>Now the incompleteness of the subsidiary services of the English army +became more strikingly apparent. It possessed no carefully organised, +well-appointed ambulance trains, no minutely perfect field-hospitals, +easily set up and ready to work at a moment's notice; medicines were +wanting; there was little or no chloroform; the only surgical +instruments were those the surgeons carried, while these indispensable +assistants were by no means too numerous, and already worked off their +legs.</p> + +<p>Parties were organised by every regiment, with stretchers and +water-bottles, to go over the field, to carry back the wounded to the +coast, and afford what help they could. The Royal Picts, like the +rest, hasten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> to send assistance to their stricken comrades. The +bandsmen, who had taken no part in the action, were detailed for the +duty, and the sergeant-major, at his own earnest request, was put in +charge.</p> + +<p>As they were on the point of marching off, General Wilders rode up. He +had been separated, it will be remembered, from part of his brigade, +and had still but a vague idea of how it had fared in the fight.</p> + +<p>"I saw nothing of you, colonel, during the action. Worse luck I went +with the wrong lot, on the right of the village."</p> + +<p>"It is well some of the regiment escaped what we went through," said +Colonel Blythe, sadly. "My left wing was nearly cut to pieces. I was +never under such a fire."</p> + +<p>"How many have you lost, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"We are now mustering the regiment: a sorrowful business enough. Seven +officers are missing."</p> + +<p>"What are their names?"</p> + +<p>"Popham, Smart, Drybergh, Arrowsmith—"</p> + +<p>"Anastasius—my young cousin—is he safe?" hastily interrupted the +general.</p> + +<p>Colonel Blythe shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I missed him half way up the hill; he was carrying the regimental +colour, but when we got into the battery it was in the +sergeant-major's hands. I wish to bring his—the +sergeant-major's—conduct especially before your notice, general."</p> + +<p>"The sergeant-major's? Very good. But if he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> took the colour he must +know what happened to Anastasius. Call him, will you?"</p> + +<p>Sergeant-major McKay came up and saluted.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wilders, sir," he told the general, "was wounded as we were +breasting the slope."</p> + +<p>"You saw him go down? Where was he hit?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't time to wait, sir."</p> + +<p>"I should think not," interrupted Colonel Blythe; "but for him, +general, we should never have carried the battery. I was dismounted, +the men were checked, and just at the right moment the sergeant-major +led them on."</p> + +<p>"Bravely done, my lad! You shall hear of this again; I will make a +special report to the commander of the forces. But there, that will +keep. We must see after this poor boy."</p> + +<p>"I was just sending off a party for the purpose," said the colonel.</p> + +<p>"That's right. You have some idea, I suppose"—this was to McKay—"of +the place where Mr. Wilders fell?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir. I think I can easily find it."</p> + +<p>"Very well; show us the way. And you, Powys"—this was to the +aide-de-camp—"ride over to the Royal Lancers and tell Hugo Wilders +what has happened."</p> + +<p>Then the little band of Good Samaritans set out upon its painful +mission. The autumn evening was already closing in; the night air blew +chill across the desolate plain; already numbers of men were busy +amongst the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> wounded, assuaging their thirst from water-bottles, +covering the prostrate forms with blankets, and lending the surgeons a +helping hand.</p> + +<p>Half an hour brought the searchers of the Royal Picts to where young +Anastasius Wilders lay. McKay was the first to find him, and he raised +a shout of recognition as he ran forward to the wounded officer. +Unslinging his water-bottle, he put it to his cousin's lips; but young +Wilders waved the precious liquid aside, saying, although in a feeble +voice—</p> + +<p>"Thank you; but I can wait. Give it to that poor chap over there; he +is far worse hit than I am."</p> + +<p>It was a private of the regiment, whose breast a bullet had pierced, +and whose tortures seemed terrible.</p> + +<p>But now the rest of the party came up. General Wilders dismounted, +flask in hand, and the wounded lad was rewarded for his self-denial.</p> + +<p>A surgeon, too, had arrived, and he was anxiously questioned as to the +nature of young Wilders's wound.</p> + +<p>The right leg had been shattered below the knee by a round shot; the +wound had bled profusely, but the poor lad managed to stanch it with +his shirt.</p> + +<p>"Can you save it?" whispered the general.</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" replied the surgeon, in the same tone.</p> + +<p>"We must amputate above the knee at once," and he turned up his +sleeves and gave instructions to an assistant to get ready the +instruments.</p> + +<p>The operation, performed without chloroform, and borne with heroic +fortitude, was over when Hugo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> Wilders rode up to the spot. Anastasius +recognised his brother, and answered his anxious, sorrowful greeting +with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"What is to be done with him now?" asked the general.</p> + +<p>"We must get him on board ship—to-night, if possible; but how?"</p> + +<p>"We will carry him every inch of the way," said one of the bandsmen of +the Royal Picts. Young Wilders was idolised by the men.</p> + +<p>"It is three miles to the sea-shore: a long journey."</p> + +<p>"They can march in two reliefs, four carrying, four resting," said +McKay.</p> + +<p>"You must be very careful," said the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"Never fear! We will carry him as easy as a baby in its cot," replied +one of the soldiers.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! you can trust us," added McKay.</p> + +<p>"Are you going with them?" asked the general.</p> + +<p>"I should like to do so, sir."</p> + +<p>"And of course I shall go too," added Captain Wilders; and the +procession, thus formed, wended its way to the shore.</p> + +<p>It was midnight before McKay and the stretcher-party were relieved of +their precious charge, and when they had seen the wounded officer +embarked in one of the ship's boats, accompanied by his brother, they +laid down where they were to rest and await the daylight.</p> + +<p>Soon after dawn they were again on the move<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> making once more for the +heights above the river, where they had left their regiment. Once +more, too, they traversed the battle-field, with its ghastly sights +and distressing sounds. It was still covered with the bodies of the +dead and dying, their numbers greatly increased, for many of the +wounded had succumbed to the tortures of the night. The figures of +ministering comrades still moved to and fro, and men of all ranks were +busily engaged in the good work.</p> + +<p>There were others whose action was more open to +question—camp-followers and sutlers, dropped from no one knew where, +who lurked in secret hiding-places, and issued forth, when the coast +seemed clear, to follow their loathsome trade of robbing the dead.</p> + +<p>McKay's little party, as they trudged along, suddenly put up one of +these evil birds of prey almost at their feet. The man rose and ran +for his life, pursued by the maledictions of the Royal Picts.</p> + +<p>"Stop him! Stop him!" they cried, and the fugitive was met and turned +at every point. But he doubled like a hare, and had nearly made his +escape when he fell almost into the arms of Sergeant Hyde.</p> + +<p>"Stick to him!" cried McKay. "We will hand him over to the +provost-marshal, who will give him a short shrift."</p> + +<p>A fierce struggle ensued between the fugitive and his captor, the +result of which seemed uncertain; but the former suddenly broke loose, +and again took to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> his heels. He made towards the French lines, and +disappeared amongst the clefts of the steep rocks.</p> + +<p>When McKay joined Hyde, he said to him, rather angrily—</p> + +<p>"Why did you let the fellow go?"</p> + +<p>"I did my best, but he was like an eel. I had far rather have kept +him. I have wanted the scoundrel these dozen years."</p> + +<p>"You know him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Hyde, sternly. "I know him well, but I thought that he +was dead. It is better so; we have a long account to settle, and the +day of reckoning will certainly come."</p> + +<p>Thus ended the first collision between the opposing armies: the first +great conflict between European troops since Waterloo. The credit +gained by the victors, whose prowess echoed through the civilised +world, was greater, perhaps, than the results achieved. The Alma, as +we shall see, might have paved the way, under more skilful leadership, +to a prompt and glorious termination of the war. But, if it exercised +no sufficient influence upon the larger interests of the campaign, the +battle greatly affected the prospects of the principal character in +this story.</p> + +<p>Sergeant-major McKay was presently informed that, in recognition of +the signal bravery he had displayed at the storming of the Causeway +battery, his name had been submitted to the Queen for an ensign's +commission in the Royal Picts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>CATCHING A TARTAR.</h3> + + +<p>After their victory at the Alma the allies tarried long on the ground +they had gained. There were many excuses, but no sound reasons, for +thus wasting precious moments that would never return. It was alleged +that more troops had to be landed; that the removal of the sick and +wounded to ship-board consumed much time; that further progress must +be postponed until the safest method of approaching Sebastopol had +been discussed in many and lengthy councils of war.</p> + +<p>Yet at this moment the great fortress and arsenal lay at their mercy. +They had but to put out their hands to capture it. Menschikoff's +beaten army was long in rallying, and when at last it resumed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +coherence of a fighting force its leader withdrew it altogether from +Sebastopol, thus abandoning the fortress to its fate.</p> + +<p>Its chief fortifications now were on the northern side, that nearest +the allies, and within a short day's march. Only one redoubt—the +so-called Star Fort—was of any formidable strength, and as this was +close to the sea-shore it was exposed to the bombardment of the fleets. +But the Star Port lay before the French, supposing that the original +order of march was preserved; and the French, exaggerating its powers +of resistance, could not be persuaded to face the risks of assault. +The fact was, St. Arnaud lay dying, and for the moment all vigour was +gone from the conduct of the French arms.</p> + +<p>Little doubt exists to-day that the northern fortifications could not +have resisted a determined attack. That it was not attempted was +another grave error; to be followed by yet another, when, after a +hazardous detour—the well-known "flank march"—the allies transferred +themselves to the southern side of Sebastopol, and again neglected a +palpable opportunity. The north side might be fairly well protected; +the south was practically defenceless; a few weak earth-works, +incomplete, and without artillery, were its only bulwarks; its only +garrison were a few militia battalions and some hastily-formed +regiments of sailors from the now sunken Russian ships of war.</p> + +<p>It must undoubtedly have fallen by a <i>coup de main</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> But generals +hesitated and differed, bolder spirits were overruled, undue weight +was given to the too-cautious counsels of scientific soldiers, and it +was decided to sit down before and slowly besiege the place.</p> + +<p>The chance on which the allies turned their backs was quickly seized +by the enemy. One of the brightest pages in modern military annals is +that which records how the genius and indomitable energy of one man +improvised a resolute and protracted defence; and none have done +fuller justice to Todleben than the foes he so long and gallantly kept +at bay.</p> + +<p>The allies now entered, almost with light hearts, upon a siege that +was to last for eleven weary months and prove the source of unnumbered +woes. In a comfortable leisurely fashion they proceeded to break +ground, to open trenches, and approach the enemy's still unfinished +works by parallel and sap. The siege-train—the British War Minister's +fatal gift, encouraging as it did the policy of delay—was landed, as +were vast supplies of ammunition and warlike stores. Tents, too, were +brought up to the front, and the allied encampment soon covered the +plateau from the Tchernaya to the sea. The troops soon settled down in +their new quarters, and the heights before Sebastopol grew gradually a +hive of military industry, instinct with warlike sounds, teeming with +soldier life.</p> + +<p>The Royal Picts found themselves posted on the uplands above the +Tchernaya valley, very near the extreme right of the British front, +and here they took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> their share of the duties that now fell upon the +army, furnishing fatigue-parties to dig at the trenches, and armed +parties to cover them as they worked, and pickets by day and night to +watch the movements of the enemy.</p> + +<p>Since McKay's official recommendation for a commission, he had been +entrusted with duties above his position as sergeant-major. The +adjutant had been badly wounded at the Alma, and it was generally +understood that when promoted McKay would succeed him. Meanwhile he +was entrusted with various special missions appertaining to the rank +he soon expected to receive.</p> + +<p>One of these was his despatch to Balaclava to make inquiries for the +knapsacks of the regiment. They had been left on board ship, and the +transport had been expected daily in Balaclava harbour. The men were +sadly in want of a change of clothes, and neither these nor the little +odds and ends that go to make up a soldier's comfort were available +until they got their packs. McKay was directed to take a small party +with him to land the much-needed baggage and have it conveyed by hook +or crook to the front.</p> + +<p>He left the camp late in the afternoon, and, striking the great +Woronzoff Road just where it pierced the Fediukine Heights, descended +it until he reached the Balaclava plain. A few miles beyond, the +little town itself was visible, or, more exactly, the forest of masts +that already crowded its little land-locked port.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here, on the right of the communications between the English army and +its base, a long range of redoubts had been thrown up and garrisoned +by the Turks. These crowned the summit of a range of low hillocks, +and, in marching to his point, McKay paused on the level ground +between two hills. The Turks on sentry gave him a "Bono Johnny!" as he +passed, by way of greeting; but they were far too lazy and too sleepy +to do more.</p> + +<p>It was evident they kept a poor look-out, and doubtful strangers were +as free to pass as British friends. Just upon the rear of No. 3 +Redoubt McKay and his men came upon a fellow crouching low amongst the +broken ground. McKay would have passed by without remark, but his +first look at the stranger, who wore no uniform and seemed a harmless, +unoffending Tartar peasant, was followed by a second and keener gaze. +He thought he recognised the man; he certainly had seen his face +before. Directing his men to seize him, he made a longer and closer +inspection, and found that it was the ruffian whom they had surprised +and chased on the heights above the Alma the morning after the battle.</p> + +<p>"He is up to no good," said McKay. "We must take him along with us."</p> + +<p>But where? The job they were on was a definite one; not the capture of +chance prisoners, which would certainly delay them on the road.</p> + +<p>Still, remembering the last occasion on which he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> seen this man, +and the mysterious remarks that Hyde had let fall concerning him, +McKay felt sure the fellow was not what he seemed. This Tartar dress +must be a disguise: how could Hyde have made the acquaintance years +before of a Tartar peasant in the Crimea?</p> + +<p>Certainly the man must go with them, and therefore, placing him +securely in the midst of his party, McKay marched on. If nothing +better offered, he would hand his prisoner over to the Commandant of +Balaclava on arrival there.</p> + +<p>But as they trudged along, and, leaving the cavalry-encampment on +their right, approached the ground occupied by the Highland brigade, +they encountered its general—McKay had seen him at the Alma—riding +out, accompanied by his staff.</p> + +<p>The quick eye of Sir Colin Campbell promptly detected the prisoner. He +rode up at once to the party, and said, in a sharp, angry tone—</p> + +<p>"What are you doing with that peasant? Don't you know that the orders +are positive against molesting the inhabitants? Who is in command of +this party?"</p> + +<p>McKay stood forth and saluted.</p> + +<p>"You? A sergeant-major? Of the Royal Picts, too! You ought to know +better. Let the man go!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Sir Colin," began McKay; "but—"</p> + +<p>"Don't argue with me, sir; do as I tell you. I have a great mind to +put you in arrest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>McKay still stood in an attitude of mute but firm protest.</p> + +<p>"What does the fellow mean? Ask him, Shadwell. I suppose he must have +some reason, or he would not defy a general officer like this."</p> + +<p>Captain Shadwell, one of Sir Colin's staff, took McKay aside, and, +questioning him, learnt all the particulars of the capture. McKay told +him, too, what had occurred at the Alma.</p> + +<p>"The fellow must be a spy," said Sir Colin, abruptly, when the whole +of the facts were repeated to him. "We must cross-question him. I +wonder what language he speaks."</p> + +<p>The general himself tried him with French; but the prisoner shook his +head stupidly. Shadwell followed with German, but with like result.</p> + +<p>"I'll go bail he knows both, and English too, probably. He ought to be +tried in Russian now: that's the language of the country. He is +undoubtedly an impostor if he can't speak that. I wish we could try +him in Russian. If he failed, the provost-marshal should hang him on +the nearest post."</p> + +<p>This conversation passed in the full hearing of McKay, and when Sir +Colin stopped the sergeant-major stepped forward, again saluted, and +said modestly—</p> + +<p>"I can speak Russian, sir."</p> + +<p>"You? An English soldier? In the ranks, too? Extraordinary! How on +earth—but that will keep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> We will put this fellow through his +facings at once. Ask him his name, where he comes from, and all about +him. Tell him he must answer; that his silence will be taken as a +proof he is not what he pretends. No real Tartar peasant could fail to +understand Russian."</p> + +<p>"Who and what are you?" asked McKay. And this first question was +answered by the prisoner with an alacrity that indicated his +comprehension of every word that had been said. He evidently wished to +save his neck.</p> + +<p>"My name is Michaelis Baidarjee. Baidar is my home; but I have been +driven out by the Cossacks to-day."</p> + +<p>It was a lie, no doubt. Hyde had recognised him as a very different +person.</p> + +<p>"Ask him what brings him into our lines?" said Sir Colin, when this +answer had been duly interpreted.</p> + +<p>"I came to give valuable information to the Lords of the Universe," he +replied. "The Russians are on the move."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Sir Colin's interest was aroused. "Go on; make him speak out. +Say he shall go free if he tells us truly all he knows."</p> + +<p>"Where are the Russians moving?" asked McKay.</p> + +<p>"This way"—the man pointed back beyond Tchorgorum. "They are +collecting over yonder, many, many thousands, and are marching this +way."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that they intend to attack us?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Why else do they come? Yesterday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> there were none. All +last night they were marching; to-morrow, at dawn, they will be here."</p> + +<p>"Who commands them?"</p> + +<p>"Liprandi. I saw him, and they told me his name."</p> + +<p>"This is most important," said Sir Colin; "we must know more. Find +out, sergeant-major, whether he can go back safely."</p> + +<p>"Back within the Russian lines?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. He might go and return with the latest news."</p> + +<p>"You would never see the fellow again, Sir Colin. He is only +humbugging us—"</p> + +<p>"Put the question as I direct you," interrupted the general, abruptly. +"What we want is information; it must be got by any means."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go," the prisoner promised, joining his hands with a +gesture as if taking an oath; "and I would return this very night; you +shall have the exact numbers; shall know the road they are coming, +when to expect them—all."</p> + +<p>"Let him loose, then," said the general; "but warn him, if he plays us +false, that he had better not fall into our clutches again."</p> + +<p>"You may trust him not to do that, sir," said McKay, rather +discontented at seeing his prisoner so easily set free.</p> + +<p>The general ignored the remark, but he was evidently displeased at its +tone, for he now turned sharply on McKay, saying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"As regards you—how comes it you speak Russian?"</p> + +<p>"I was born in Moscow."</p> + +<p>"Of Russian parents?"</p> + +<p>"My father was a Pole by birth, but by extraction a Scotchman."</p> + +<p>"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"McKay—Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Stanislas; I understand that. But how is it you were christened +Wilders? And Anastasius, too—that is a family name, I think. Are you +related to Lord Essendine?—a Wilders, in fact?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, by my mother's side."</p> + +<p>"And yet you have taken the Queen's shilling! Strange! But it is no +business of mine. Young scapegrace, I suppose—"</p> + +<p>"My character is as good as—" "yours," McKay would have said, but +his reverence for the general's rank restrained him. "I enlisted +because I could not enter the British army and be a soldier in any +other way."</p> + +<p>"With your friends'—your relatives'—approval?"</p> + +<p>"With my mother's, certainly; and of those nearest me."</p> + +<p>"Do you know General Wilders—here in the Crimea, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"My regiment is in his brigade."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I am aware of that. But have you made yourself known to +him, I mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young sergeant-major knew that his gallantry at the Alma had won +him his general's approval, but he was too modest to refer to that +episode.</p> + +<p>"I have never claimed the relationship, sir," he answered, simply, but +with proud reticence; "it would not have beseemed my position."</p> + +<p>"Your sentiments do you credit, young man. That will do; you can +continue your march. Good-day!"</p> + +<p>They parted; McKay and his men went on to Balaclava, the general +towards the Second Division camp.</p> + +<p>"Curious meeting, that, Shadwell," said Sir Colin. "If I come across +Wilders I shall tell him the story. He might like to do his young +relative—a smart soldier evidently, or he would not be a +sergeant-major so early—a good turn."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>"NOT WAR!"</h3> + + +<p>The spy, whatever his nationality, and however questionable his +antecedents, was right in the intelligence he had communicated. A +large Russian force was even then on the march from Tchorgorum, +pointing straight for the Balaclava plain. The enemy had regained +heart; emboldened by the constant influx of reinforcements, and the +inactivity of the allies, he had grown audacious, and was ready to try +a vigorous offensive. A blow well aimed at our communications and +delivered with intention might drive us back on our ships, perhaps +into the sea.</p> + +<p>McKay had passed the night at Balaclava. The transport with the +knapsacks was not yet in port, and he was loth to return to camp +empty-handed. But next morning, soon after daylight, news came back +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> the little seaside town that another battle was imminent, on the +plains outside.</p> + +<p>The handful of Royal Picts were promptly mustered by their young +commander, and marched in the direction of the firing, which was +already heard, hot and heavy, towards the east.</p> + +<p>As they left Balaclava, they encountered a crowd of Turkish soldiers +in full flight, making madly for the haven, and shouting, "Ship! +ship!" as they ran. McKay, gathering from this stampede that already +some serious conflict had begun, hurried forward to where he found a +line of red-coats drawn up behind a narrow ridge which barred the +approaches to Balaclava.</p> + +<p>This was the famous 93rd, in its now historic formation—another "Thin +Red Line," which received undaunted, and only two deep, the onslaught +of the Russian horse.</p> + +<p>The regiment was under the personal control of its brigadier, stout +old Sir Colin, who, with his staff, stood a little withdrawn, but +closely observing all that passed. He recognised McKay, and called out +abruptly—</p> + +<p>"Halloa! where have you dropped from?"</p> + +<p>"I heard the firing, sir, met the Turks retreating, and brought up my +party to reinforce and act as might be ordered."</p> + +<p>"It was well done, man. But, enough; get yourselves up into line there +on the left, and take the word from the colonel of the 93rd."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have our work cut out for us, sir," said one of his staff to Sir +Colin.</p> + +<p>"We have, but we'll do it. This gorge must be held to the death. You +understand that, Colonel Ainslie—to the death?"</p> + +<p>"You can trust us, Sir Colin."</p> + +<p>"I think so; but I'll say just one word to the men," and, while the +enemy's cavalry were still some distance off, the general rode slowly +down the line, speaking his last solemn injunction—</p> + +<p>"Remember, men, there is no retreat from here. You must die where you +stand."</p> + +<p>One and the same answer rose readily to every lip—</p> + +<p>"Ay! ay! Sir Colin; we'll do that!" shouted the gallant Scots.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Historical. <i>cf.</i> Kinglake's "Crimea," v. 80.</p></div> + +<p>Their veteran leader's head was clear; his temper cool and +self-possessed. He held these brave hearts in hand like the rider of a +high-couraged horse, and knew well when to restrain, when to let go.</p> + +<p>As the Russians approached, a few eager spirits would have rushed +forward from their ranks to encounter their foe in the open plain; but +Sir Colin's trumpet voice checked them with a fierce—</p> + +<p>"Ninety-third! Ninety-third! None of that eagerness!"</p> + +<p>And then a minute or two later came the signal for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>the whole line to +advance. The Highlanders, and those with them, swiftly mounted to the +crest of the ridge, and met the charging cavalry with a withering +volley. A second followed. The enemy had no stomach for more; reining +in their horses, they wheeled round and fell back as they had come.</p> + +<p>This, however, was only the beginning of the action. Heavy columns of +the enemy now appeared in sight, cavalry and infantry, with numerous +artillery crowning the eastern hills. A portion occupied the redoubts +abandoned by the Turks, and the attitude of the Russians was so +menacing that it seemed unlikely we could stay their onward progress.</p> + +<p>For the moment no troops could be interposed but the British +cavalry—the two brigades, Light and Heavy—which had their encampment +in the plain, and had been under arms, commanded by Lord Lucan, since +daybreak.</p> + +<p>"We must have up the First and Fourth Divisions," Lord Raglan had +said, when he arrived on the battle-field soon after eight in the +morning; at first he had treated the news of the Russian advance +lightly. Many such moves had been reported on previous days, and all +had ended in nothing. "Let the Duke of Cambridge and Sir George +Cathcart have their orders at once. We must trust to the cavalry till +the infantry come up. Tell Scarlett to support the Turks."</p> + +<p>But the Turks had given way before General Scarlett could stiffen +their courage, and as his brigade, that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> heavy cavalry, trotted +towards the redoubts, other and more stirring work offered itself. The +head of a great column of Russian horse, three thousand sabres, came +over the crest of the hill and invited attack.</p> + +<p>Scarlett saw his opportunity, and, with true soldierly promptitude, +seized it. He wheeled his squadrons into line and charged. Three went +against the front, five against the right flank, one against the left.</p> + +<p>The intrepid "Heavies," outnumbered fivefold, dashed forward at a hand +gallop, and were soon swallowed up in the solid mass. But it could not +digest the terrible dose. Just eight minutes more and the Russian +column wavered, broke, and turned.</p> + +<p>It was a fine feat of arms, richly meriting its meed of praise.</p> + +<p>"Well done! well done!" was the message that came direct from Lord +Raglan, on the hills above.</p> + +<p>"Greys! Gallant Greys!" cried Sir Colin Campbell, galloping up to one +of the regiments that had made this charge. "I am sixty-one years old, +but if I were young I should be proud to be in your ranks!"</p> + +<p>"What luck those Heavies have!" shouted another and a bitterly +discontented spectator of their prowess.</p> + +<p>It was Lord Cardigan who, at the head of the Light Brigade, sat still +in his saddle, looking on.</p> + +<p>Yet it was no one's fault but his own that he had not been also +engaged. His men were within striking distance; they were bound, +moreover, by the clearest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> canons of the military art to throw their +weight upon the exposed flank of the discomfited foe.</p> + +<p>But Lord Cardigan had strangely—obstinately, indeed—misunderstood +his orders, and, although chafing angrily at inaction, conceived that +it was his bounden but distasteful duty to halt where he was.</p> + +<p>"Why don't he let us loose at them? Was there ever such a chance?" +muttered Hugo Wilders, audibly, and within earshot of his chief. He +was again riding as extra aide to Lord Cardigan, who turned fiercely +on the speaker.</p> + +<p>"How dare you, sir, question my conduct? You shall answer for your +insubordination—"</p> + +<p>"Let me implore you, my lord, to advance," said another voice, +entreating earnestly, that of Captain Morris, a cavalry officer who +knew war well, and who was, for the moment, in command of a +magnificent regiment of Lancers.</p> + +<p>"It is not your business to give me advice," replied the general, +haughtily. "Wait till I ask for it."</p> + +<p>"But, my lord, see! the Russians are reeling from the charge of the +Heavies. Now if ever—"</p> + +<p>"Enough, Captain Morris. My orders were to defend this position; and +here I shall stay. I was told to attack nothing unless they came +within reach. The enemy has not yet done that."</p> + +<p>So the chance of annihilating the Russian cavalry was lost, and the +Light Brigade thought that its chances of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> distinction were also gone +for the day. Alas! the hour of its trial was very close at hand.</p> + +<p>Lord Raglan had waited anxiously for the infantry divisions he had +ordered up. The first, under the Duke of Cambridge, was now close at +hand, and the fourth, led by Sir George Cathcart, had arrived at a +point whence it might easily have reached out a hand to recover the +redoubts. But Cathcart's advance was so leisurely that Lord Raglan +feared he would be too late to prevent the Russians from carrying off +the guns they had captured from the Turks. The enemy, it must be +understood, were showing manifest signs of despondency: their +shattered cavalry had gone rapidly to the rear, and their infantry had +halted irresolute, inclined also to retreat.</p> + +<p>"This is the moment to strike them," decided Lord Raglan. "They are +evidently losing heart, and we ought to get back the redoubts easily. +I will send the cavalry. They are almost on the spot, and at any rate +can get quickly over the ground. Ride, sir," to an aide-de-camp, "and +tell Lord Lucan to recover the heights. Tell him he will have +infantry, two whole divisions, in support."</p> + +<p>They watched the aide-de-camp deliver his message; but still Lord +Lucan, who was in supreme command of the cavalry, made no move.</p> + +<p>"What is he at?" cried Lord Raglan, testily. "He is very long about +it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is no time to lose, my lord," interposed the +quartermaster-general, who had been intently watching the redoubts +with his field-glasses. "I can see them bringing teams of horses into +the redoubts. They evidently mean to carry off our guns."</p> + +<p>The necessity for action was more than ever urgent and immediate.</p> + +<p>"Lord Lucan must be made to move. Here, Airey! send him a peremptory +order in writing."</p> + +<p>The quartermaster-general produced pencil and paper from his +sabretash, and wrote as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, and +try to prevent the enemy from carrying away the guns. Immediate."</p> + +<p>"That will do," said Lord Raglan. "Let your own aide-de-camp carry the +order. He is a cavalry officer, and can explain, if required."</p> + +<p>It was Nolan, the enthusiastic, ardent, devoted cavalry soldier, heart +and soul, and overflowing now with joy at his mission, and the chances +of distinction it offered the cavalry. A fine, fearless horseman, he +galloped at a breakneck pace down the steep and rocky sides of the +plateau, and quickly reached Lord Lucan's side.</p> + +<p>The general read his orders, with lips compressed and lowering brow.</p> + +<p>"You come straight from Lord Raglan? But, surely, you are General +Airey's aide-de-camp?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lord Raglan himself entrusted me with the message."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it. It is utterly impracticable: for any useful +purpose. Quite unequal, quite inadequate, to the risks and frightful +loss it must entail."</p> + +<p>The impetuous aide-de-camp showed visible signs of impatience. While +the general debated and discussed his orders, instead of executing +them with instant, unquestioning despatch, a great opportunity was +flitting quickly by.</p> + +<p>"Lord Raglan's orders are"—Nolan spoke with an irritation that was +disrespectful, almost insubordinate—"his lordship's orders are that +the cavalry should attack immediately."</p> + +<p>"Attack, sir!" replied Lord Lucan, petulantly; "attack what? What +guns?"</p> + +<p>"There, my lord, is your enemy," replied Nolan, with an excited wave +of his arm; "there are your guns!"</p> + +<p>The exact meaning of the gesture no man survived to tell, but its +direction was unhappily towards a formidable Russian battery which +closed the gorge of the north valley, and not to the heights crowned +by the captured redoubts.</p> + +<p>Lord Lucan, heated by the irritating language of his junior officer, +must have lost his power of discrimination, for although his first +instructions clearly indicated the guns in the redoubt, and his +second, brought by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> Nolan, obviously referred to the same guns, the +cavalry general was misled—by his own rage, or Nolan's sweeping +gesture, who shall say?—misled into a terrible error.</p> + +<p>He conceived it to be his duty to send a portion of his cavalry +against a formidable battery of Russian guns, well posted as they +were, and already sweeping the valley with a well-directed, murderous +fire.</p> + +<p>Of the two cavalry brigades, the Light was still fresh and untouched +by the events of the day. The Heavy Brigade, as we have seen, had +already done splendid service in routing the Russian cavalry. The turn +of the Light Brigade had come, although, unhappily, the task entrusted +to it was hopeless, foredoomed to failure from the first.</p> + +<p>It stood close by, proudly impatient, its brigadier, Lord Cardigan, at +its head.</p> + +<p>To him the divisional general imparted Lord Raglan's order.</p> + +<p>"You are to advance, Lord Cardigan, along the valley, and attack the +Russians at the far end," was the order he gave.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," replied Lord Cardigan, without hesitation. "But +allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the +valley in our front, and batteries and riflemen on each flank."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that," said Lord Lucan; "Lord Raglan will have it so. +You have no choice but to obey."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Cardigan saluted with his sword; then, rising in his stirrups, he +turned to his men, and cried aloud in a full, firm voice—</p> + +<p>"The brigade will advance!"—to certain death, he might have added, +for he knew it, although he never quailed. But, settling himself in +his saddle, as though starting on a promising run with hounds, and not +on a journey from which there was no return, he said, with splendid +resignation, as he prepared to lead the charge—</p> + +<p>"Here goes for the last of the Brudenells!"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The family name of the Earls of Cardigan was Brudenell.</p></div> + +<p>All this had passed in a few minutes, and then three lines of +dauntless horsemen—in the first line, Dragoons and Lancers; in the +second, Hussars; in the third, Hussars and more Dragoons—galloped +down the north valley on their perilous and mistaken errand.</p> + +<p>They were already going at full speed, when a single horseman, with +uplifted arm and excited gesture, as though addressing the brigade, +crossed their front. It was Nolan, who thus seemed to be braving the +anger of Lord Cardigan by interfering with the leadership of his men.</p> + +<p>What brought Nolan there? The inference is only fair and reasonable +that at the very outset he had recognised the misinterpretation of +Lord Raglan's orders, and was seeking to change the direction of the +charging horsemen, diverting them from the Russian battery towards the +redoubts, their proper goal.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p><p>Fate decreed that this last chance of correcting the terrible error +should be denied to the Light Brigade. A Russian shell struck Nolan +full in the chest, and "tore a way to his heart." By his untimely +death the doom of the light cavalry was sealed.</p> + +<p>As the devoted band galloped forward to destruction, all who observed +them stood horror-stricken at the amazing folly of this mad, mistaken +charge.</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" cried Lord Raglan. "Why, they will be destroyed! Go +down, Calthorpe, and you, Burghersh, and find out who is responsible +for this frightful mistake!"</p> + +<p>"Magnificent!" was the verdict of Bosquet, a friendly but experienced +French critic. "But it is not war."</p> + +<p>Not war—murder, rather, and sudden death.</p> + +<p>The ceaseless fire of the guns they faced wrought fearful havoc in the +ranks of the horsemen as they galloped on. Still the survivors went +forward, unappalled; but it was with sadly diminished numbers that +they reached the object of their attack. The few that got to the guns +did splendid service with their swords. The gunners were cut down as +they stood, and for the moment the battery was ours. But it was +impossible to hold it; the Light Brigade had almost ceased to exist. +Presently its shattered remnants fell slowly back, +covered by the Heavies against the pursuit of the once more audacious +Russian cavalry.</p> + +<p>Barely half an hour had sufficed for the annihilation of nearly six +hundred soldiers, the flower of the British<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> Light Horse. The northern +valley was like a shambles, strewn with the dead and dying, while all +about galloped riderless horses, and dismounted troopers seeking to +regain their lines on foot. Quite half of the whole force had been +struck down, among the rest Hugo Wilders, whose forehead a grape-shot +had pierced.</p> + +<p>The muster of regiments after such a fight was but a mournful +ceremony. When at length the now decimated line was re-formed, the +horror of the action was plainly seen.</p> + +<p>"It was a mad-brained trick," said Lord Cardigan, who had marvellously +escaped—"a monstrous blunder, but it was no fault of mine."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, my lord!" cried many gallant spirits. "We are ready to +charge again!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, men," replied Lord Cardigan, hastily; "you have done enough."</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Lord Raglan rode up, and angrily called +Lord Cardigan to account.</p> + +<p>"What did you mean, sir, by attacking guns in front with cavalry, +contrary to the usages of war?"</p> + +<p>"You must not blame me, my lord," replied Lord Cardigan. "I only +obeyed the orders of my superior officer," and he pointed to Lord +Lucan, whom Lord Raglan then addressed with the severe reproof—</p> + +<p>"You have sacrificed the Light Brigade, Lord Lucan. You should have +used more discretion."</p> + +<p>"I never approved of the charge," protested Lord Lucan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you should not have allowed it to be made."</p> + +<p>The battle of Balaclava was practically over, and, although they had +suffered no reverse, its results were decidedly disadvantageous to the +allies. The massacre of the Light Brigade encouraged the Russian +general to advance again; his columns once more crossed the Woronzoff +road, and re-occupied the redoubts in force. The immediate result was +the narrowing of the communications between the front and the base. +The use of a great length of this Woronzoff road was forbidden, and +the British were restricted to the insufficient tracks through +Kadikoi. A principal cause this of the difficulties of supply during +the dread winter now close at hand.</p> + +<p>Another lesser result of the Russian advance was that McKay and his +men that afternoon were unable to rejoin their regiment by the road +they had travelled the day before. He returned to camp by a long and +circuitous route, through Kadikoi, instead of by the direct Woronzoff +road.</p> + +<p>It was late in the day, therefore, when he was once more at his +headquarters. He had much to tell of his strange adventures on these +two eventful days, and the colonel, who had at once sent for him, kept +him in close colloquy, plying him with questions about the battle, for +more than an hour. It was not till he had heard everything that +Colonel Blythe handed the sergeant-major a bundle of letters and +papers, arrived that morning by the English mail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is good news for you, McKay," said he. "I was so interested in +your description that I had forgotten to tell you. Let me congratulate +you; your name is in the <i>Gazette</i>," and the Colonel, taking McKay's +hand, shook it warmly.</p> + +<p>McKay carried off his precious bundle to his tent, and, first untying +the newspaper, hunted out the <i>Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p>There it was—</p> + +<p>"The Royal Picts—Sergeant-Major Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay to +be Ensign, <i>vice</i> Arrowsmith, killed in action."</p> + +<p>They had lost no time; the reward had followed quickly upon the +gallant deed that deserved it. Barely a month had elapsed since the +Alma, yet already he was an officer, bearing the Queen's commission, +which he had won with his own right arm.</p> + +<p>His letters were from home—from his darling mother, who, in simple, +loving language, poured forth her joy and pride.</p> + +<p>"My dearest, bravest boy," she said, "how nobly you have justified the +choice you made; you were right, and we were wrong in opposing your +earnest wish to follow in your poor father's footsteps—would that he +had lived to see this day! It was his spirit that moved you when, in +spite of us all, of your uncles' protests and my tears, you persisted +in your resolve to enlist. They said you had disgraced yourself and +us. It was cruel of them; but now they are the first to come round. I +have heard from both your uncles;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> they are, of course, delighted, and +beg me to give you their heartiest good wishes. Uncle Ralph said +perhaps he would write himself; but he is so overwhelmed with work at +the Munitions Office he may not have time. Uncle Barto you will, +perhaps, see out in the Crimea; he has got command of the <i>Burlington +Castle</i>, one of the steamers chartered from his Company, and is going +at once to Balaclava.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my sweet son be careful of yourself!" went on the fond mother, +her deep anxiety welling forth. "You are my only, only joy. I pray God +hourly that He may spare your precious life. May He have you in His +safe keeping!"</p> + +<p>The reading of these pleasant letters occupied Stanislas till +nightfall. Then, utterly wearied, but with a thankful, contented +heart, he threw himself upon the ground, and slept till morning.</p> + +<p>When he issued forth from his tent it was to receive the cordial +congratulations of his brother officers. Sergeant Hyde came up, too, a +little doubtfully, but McKay seized his hand, saying—</p> + +<p>"You do not grudge me my good luck, I hope, old friend?"</p> + +<p>"I, sir?"—the address was formal, but the tone was full of heartfelt +emotion. "You have no heartier well-wisher than Colour-Sergeant Hyde. +Our relative positions have changed—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing can change them, or me, Hyde. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> have always been my best +and staunchest friend. It is to your advice and teachings that I owe +all this."</p> + +<p>"Go on as you have begun, my boy; the road is open before you. Who +knows? That field-marshal's baton may have been in your pack after +all!"</p> + +<p>While they still talked a message was brought to McKay from General +Wilders; the brigadier wished to see him at once.</p> + +<p>"How is this, Mr. McKay?" said the general. "So you pretend to be a +cousin of mine? Sir Colin Campbell has told me of his meeting with +you, and now I find your name in full in the <i>Gazette</i>."</p> + +<p>"It is no pretence, sir," replied Stanislas, with dignity.</p> + +<p>"What! You call yourself a Wilders! By what right?"</p> + +<p>"My mother is first cousin to the present Lord Essendine."</p> + +<p>"Through whom?"</p> + +<p>"Her father, Anastasius Wilders."</p> + +<p>"I know—my father's brother. Then you belong to the elder branch. But +I never heard that he married."</p> + +<p>"He married Priscilla Coxon in 1805."</p> + +<p>"Privately?"</p> + +<p>"I believe not. But it was much against his father's wish, and his +wife was never recognised by the family. His widow—you know my +grandfather died early--<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>married a second time, and thus increased the +breach between the families."</p> + +<p>"It's a strange story. I don't know what to think of it. These +statements of yours—can they be substantiated?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly, sir, by the fullest proof. Besides, the present Lord +Essendine is quite aware of my existence, and has acknowledged my +relationship."</p> + +<p>"Never openly: you must admit that."</p> + +<p>"No, we were simple people; not grand enough, I suppose, for his +lordship. At any rate, we were too proud to be patronised, and +preferred to go our own way."</p> + +<p>"I acknowledge you, Mr. McKay, without hesitation, and am proud to own +so gallant a young man as my relative. You have indeed maintained the +soldierly reputation of our family. Shake hands!"</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, sir; I hope to continue to deserve your good +opinion," and McKay rose to take his leave.</p> + +<p>"Stay, Cousin McKay, I have more to say to you. What is this Sir Colin +tells me about your speaking Russian?"</p> + +<p>Stanislas explained.</p> + +<p>"It may prove extremely useful; we have not too many interpreters in +the army. I shall write to headquarters and report your +qualifications. Do you speak any other languages?"</p> + +<p>"French, Spanish, and a little Turkish."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By Jove! you ought to be on the staff; they want such men as you. Can +you sit on a horse?"</p> + +<p>"I have ridden bare-backed many a dozen miles across the moors at +home."</p> + +<p>"Faith! I will take you myself. I want an extra aide-de-camp, and my +cousin shall have the preference. I will send to Colonel Blythe at +once; be ready to join me. But how about your kit? You will want +horses, uniform, and—Forgive me, my young cousin: but how are you +off for cash? You must let me be your banker."</p> + +<p>McKay shook his head, gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir; but I have been supplied from home. One of my +uncles—my mother's half-brother—is well-to-do, and he sent me a +remittance on hearing of my promotion."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, as you please; but mind you come to me if you want +anything. I shall expect you to take up your duties to-morrow." They +were interrupted by all the bugles in the brigade sounding the +assembly. "What is it? The alarm?"</p> + +<p>"I can hear file-firing, sir, from the front."</p> + +<p>"An attack, evidently. Hurry back to your camp; the regiment will be +turned out by the time you get there!"</p> + +<p>As McKay left the general's tent he met Captain Powys.</p> + +<p>"The outposts have been driven in on Shell Hill and the enemy is +advancing in force," said the aide-de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>camp. "We shall have another +battle, I expect. It is our turn to-day."</p> + +<p>This was Colonel Fedeoroff's forlorn hope against our extreme right: +the sequel to Balaclava, the prelude of Inkerman—a sharp fight while +it lasted, but promptly repulsed by our men.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN HORN.</h3> + + +<p>Since the English and French armies had established themselves in the +Crimea and the magnitude of their undertaking grew more and more +apparent, they had found their true base of operations at +Constantinople. Here were collected vast masses of supplies and +stores, waiting to be forwarded to the front; here the +reinforcements—horse, foot, and guns—paused ere they joined their +respective armies; here hospitals, extensive, but still ill-organised +and incomplete, received the sick and wounded sent back from the +Crimea; here also lingered, crowding the tortuous streets of Mussulman +Stamboul and filling to overflowing the French-like suburb of Pera, a +strange medley of people, a motley crew of various faiths and many +nationalities, polyglot in tongue and curiously different in attire, +drawn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> together by such various motives as duty, mere curiosity, +self-interest, and greed. Jews, infidels, and Turks were met at every +corner: the first engaged in every occupation that could help them to +make money, from touting at the bazaars to undertaking large contracts +and selling bottled beer; the second, representatives going or coming +from the forces now devoted to upholding the Crescent; the third, +mostly apathetic, self-indulgent, corpulent old Mussulmans riding in +state, accompanied by their pipe-bearers, or sitting half-asleep in +coffee-houses or at the doors of their shops. Now and again a bevy of +Turkish ladies glided by: mere peripatetic bundles of white linen, +closely-veiled and yellow-slippered; or a Greek in his white +petticoat, fierce in aspect and armed to the teeth; or an Armenian +merchant, Arnauts, Bashi-Bazouks, French Spahis, the Bedouins of the +desert, but half-disguised as civilised troops, while occasionally +there appeared, amidst the heterogeneous throng, the plain suit of +grey dittoes worn by the travelling Englishman, or the more or less +simple female costumes that hailed from London or Paris.</p> + +<p>Misseri's hotel did a roaring trade. It was crowded from roof-tree to +cellar. Rooms cost a fabulous price. Mrs. Wilders managed to be very +comfortably lodged there notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>She still lingered in Constantinople. Her anxiety for her husband +forbade her to leave the East, although she told her friends it was +misery for her to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> separated from her infant boy. She might have +had a passage home in a dozen different steamers returning empty, all +of them in search of fresh freights of men or material; or there was +Lord Lydstone's yacht still lying in the Golden Horn and ready to take +her anywhere if only she said the word. But that, of course, was out +of the question, as she had laughingly told her husband's cousin more +than once when he had placed the <i>Arcadia</i> at her disposal.</p> + +<p>They met sometimes, but never on board the yacht, for that would have +outraged Mrs. Wilders's nice sense of propriety. It was generally at +Scutari, where poor young Anastasius Wilders lay hovering between life +and death, for Mrs. Wilders, with cousinly kindliness, came frequently +to the wounded lad's bedside.</p> + +<p>She was bound for the other side of the Bosphorus as she went +downstairs one fine morning towards the end of October, dressed, as +usual, to perfection.</p> + +<p>A man met her as she crossed the threshold, a man dressed like, and +with the air of, an Englishman—a pale-faced, sandy-haired man, with +white eyebrows, rather prominent cheek-bones, and a retreating chin.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, my dear madam." He spoke with just the faintest accent, +betraying that English was not his native tongue. "Like a good Sister, +going to the hospital again?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders bowed, and, with heightened colour, sought to pass +hastily on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What! not one word for so old a friend?" He spoke now in +French—perfect Parisian French.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not address me in public: you know you promised me +that," replied Mrs. Wilders, in a tone of much vexation, tinged with +the respect that is born of fear.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, madam, if I have presumed. But I thought you would wish +to hear the news."</p> + +<p>"News! Of what?"</p> + +<p>"Another battle, a fierce, terrible fight, in which, thank Heaven! the +English have suffered defeat!" He spoke with an exultation that proved +him to be a traitor, or no Englishman.</p> + +<p>"A battle? The English defeated?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; thank Heaven, beaten, massacred, disastrously defeated! It is +only the beginning of the end. We shall hear soon of far worse. The +Czar is gathering together all his strength; what can the puny forces +of the allies do against him? They will be outnumbered thousands to +one—annihilated before they can escape to their ships."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! What do I care! Whether they are driven away from the Crimea, +or remain, is much the same to me. But, after all, this is mere talk; +you can't terrify me by such vapourings."</p> + +<p>"I tell you I know this for a fact. The Russian forces in the Crimea +have been continually reinforced for weeks past. I know it; I saw +them. I was there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> in their midst, not many days ago. Besides, I am +behind the scenes, deep in their counsels. Rely upon it, the allies +are in imminent danger. You will hear soon of another and far greater +fight, after which it will be all over with your friends!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well! my friends, as you call them, must look to themselves. +Still, this is mere talk of what may be. Tell me what has actually +occurred. There has been a battle: are many slain? General Wilders—is +he safe?"</p> + +<p>"You need have no apprehensions for your dear husband, madam; his +command was not engaged. The chief brunt of the fight fell upon the +cavalry, who were cut to pieces."</p> + +<p>"What of young Wilders? Hugo Wilders, I mean—Lord Lydstone's +brother."</p> + +<p>"His name is returned amongst the killed. It will be a blow for the +noble house of Essendine, and not the only one."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The other brother, young Anastasius, whom you are going to see, +cannot survive, I hear."</p> + +<p>"Poor young fellows!" said Mrs. Wilders, with a well-assumed show of +feeling.</p> + +<p>"You pity them? I honour your sentiments, madam; but, nevertheless, +they can be spared, especially by you."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked, quickly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I mean that after they are gone only one obstacle intervenes between +you and all the Essendine wealth. If Lord Lydstone were out of the +way, the title and its possession would come, perhaps, to your +husband, certainly to your son."</p> + +<p>"Silence! Do not put thoughts into my head. You must be the very +fiend, I think."</p> + +<p>"I know you, Cyprienne, and every move of your mind. We are such old +friends, you see," he said, with a sneering, cynical smile. "And now, +as before, I offer you my help."</p> + +<p>"Devil! Do not tempt me!"</p> + +<p>He laughed—a cold, cruel, truculent laugh.</p> + +<p>"I know you, I repeat, and am ready to serve you as before. Come, or +send, if you want me. I am living here in this hotel; Mr. Hobson they +call me—Mr. Joseph Hobson, of London. My number is 73. Shall I hear +from you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I will not listen to you. Let me go!" And Mrs. Wilders, +breaking away from him, hurried down the street.</p> + +<p>It was not a long walk to the waterside. There she took a caique, or +local boat, with two rowers in red fezzes, and was conveyed across the +Bosphorus to the Asiatic side.</p> + +<p>Landing at Scutari, Mrs. Wilders went straight to the great palace, +which was now a hospital, and treading its long passages with the +facility of one who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> travelled the road before, she presently +found herself in a spacious, lofty chamber filled with truckle-beds, +and converted now into a hospital-ward.</p> + +<p>"How is he?" she asked, going up at once to a sergeant who acted as +superintendent and head nurse.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wilders, ma'am?" replied the sergeant, with a shake of the head.</p> + +<p>"No improvement?"</p> + +<p>"Far worse, ma'am, poor young chap! He died this morning, soon after +daylight."</p> + +<p>"And my lord—was his brother present?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Lydstone watched with him through the night, and was here by the +bedside when he died."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now? Lord Lydstone, I mean."</p> + +<p>"He went back on board his yacht, ma'am, I think. He said he should +like a little sleep. But he is to be here again this afternoon, for +the funeral."</p> + +<p>"So soon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! ma'am. It must take place at once, the doctors say."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders left the hospital, hesitating greatly what she should do. +She would have liked to see and speak with Lydstone, but she had +enough good feeling not to intrude by following him on board the +yacht.</p> + +<p>Then she resolved to attend the funeral too. It would show her +sympathy, and Lord Lydstone would be bound to notice her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>He did see her, and came up after the ceremony to shake her hand.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry for you," she began.</p> + +<p>"It is too terrible!" he exclaimed. "Both in one day."</p> + +<p>He had heard of Balaclava, then.</p> + +<p>"But I can't talk about it to-day. I will call on you to-morrow, if I +may, in the morning. I am going back to England almost at once."</p> + +<p>He came next day, and she received him in her little sitting-room at +Misseri's.</p> + +<p>"You know how I feel for you," she said, giving him both her hands, +her fine eyes full of tears. "They were such splendid young fellows, +too. It is so sad—so very sad."</p> + +<p>"I am very grateful for your sympathy. But we will not talk about +them, please," interrupted Lord Lydstone.</p> + +<p>"You have my warmest and most affectionate sympathy. Is there anything +I can do to console you, to prove to you how deeply, how sincerely, I +feel for you?"</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered, and she seemed on the point of breaking down.</p> + +<p>"What news have you of the general?" asked Lord Lydstone, rather +abruptly, as though to change the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Good enough. He is all right," said Mrs. Wilders,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> dismissing inquiry +for her husband in these few brusque words.</p> + +<p>"I can't think of him just now," she went on. "It is you and your +great sorrow that fill all my heart. Oh, Lydstone! dear Lord Lydstone, +the pity of it!"</p> + +<p>This tender commiseration was very captivating. But the low, sweet +voice seemed to have lost its charm.</p> + +<p>"I think I told you yesterday, Mrs. Wilders, that I intended to return +to England," said Lord Lydstone, in a cold, hard voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes; when do you start?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, I think. Have you any commands?"</p> + +<p>"You do not offer me a passage home?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I am travelling post haste," he answered. "I shall +only go in the yacht as far as Trieste, and then on overland. I fear +that would not suit you?"</p> + +<p>"I should be perfectly satisfied"—she was not to be put off—"with +any route, provided I go with you."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, Mrs. Wilders," he said, more stiffly, but visibly +embarrassed. "I think, however, that as I shall travel day and night I +had better—"</p> + +<p>"In other words, you decline the pleasure of my company," she said, in +a voice of much pique.</p> + +<p>It was very plain that she had no longer any influence over him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But why are you in such a desperate hurry, Lord Lydstone?" she went +on.</p> + +<p>"I have had letters, urging me to hurry home. My father and mother are +most anxious to see me; and now, after what has happened, it is right +that I should be at their side."</p> + +<p>"You are a good son, Lord Lydstone," she said, but there was the +slightest sneer concealed beneath her simple words.</p> + +<p>"I have not been what I ought, but now that I am the only one left I +feel that I must defer to my dear parents' wishes in every respect." +He said this with marked emphasis.</p> + +<p>"They have views for you, I presume?" Mrs. Wilders asked, catching +quickly at his meaning.</p> + +<p>"My mother has always wanted me to settle down in life, and my father +has urged me—"</p> + +<p>"To marry. I understand. It is time, they think, for you to have sown +your wild oats?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. I have liked my freedom, I confess. Now there are the +strongest reasons why I should marry."</p> + +<p>"To secure the succession, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"We have surely a right to look to that!" said Lord Lydstone, rather +haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Oh! of course. Everyone is bound to look after his own. And the +young lady—has she been found?"</p> + +<p>Lord Lydstone coloured at this point-blank question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have been long paying my addresses to Lady Grizel Banquo," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh! she is your choice? I have often seen her and you together."</p> + +<p>"We have been friends almost from childhood; and it seems quite +natural—"</p> + +<p>"That you should tie yourself for life to a red-headed, raw-boned +Scotch girl."</p> + +<p>"To an English lady of my own rank in life," interrupted Lord +Lydstone, sternly, "who will make me an honest, faithful helpmate, as +I have every reason to hope and believe."</p> + +<p>"You are just cut out for domestic felicity, Lord Lydstone. I can see +you a staid, sober English peer, a pattern of respectability, the stay +and support of your country, obeyed with reverent devotion by a fond +wife, bringing up a large family—"</p> + +<p>"As young people should be brought up, I hope—the girls as modest, +God-fearing maidens; the boys to behave like gentlemen, and to tell +the truth."</p> + +<p>"A very admirable system of education, I'm sure. By-and-bye we shall +see how nearly you have achieved your aim."</p> + +<p>She was disappointed and bitterly angry, feeling that he had rebuffed +and flouted her.</p> + +<p>"We part as friends, I hope?" said Lord Lydstone, rising to go.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly! why not?" she answered carelessly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I trust you will continue to get good news from Cousin Bill."</p> + +<p>"And I that you will have a speedy voyage home. It would be provoking +to be delayed when bound on such a mission."</p> + +<p>Then they parted, never to meet again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE.</h3> + + +<p>The mixed population of Constantinople in these busy, stirring times +was ripe for any great surprise. It was much moved and excited by a +startling bit of news that spread very rapidly next day.</p> + +<p>An atrocious murder had been committed on the Stamboul side, near the +Bridge of Boats.</p> + +<p>Certainly, murders were not unknown in this hive of complex life, +harbouring as it did the very scum and refuse of European rascality. +But the victims were mostly vile, nameless vagabonds, low Greeks, +Maltese suttlers, Italian sailors, or one or other of the hybrid +mongrel ruffians following in the track of our armies, any of whom +might be sent to their long account without being greatly missed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was otherwise now: the murdered man was a prominent personage, an +Englishman of high rank, a rich and powerful representative of a great +people. No wonder that Constantinople was agitated and disturbed.</p> + +<p>On this occasion Lord Lydstone was the murdered man.</p> + +<p>He had been found at daybreak by the Turkish patrol, lying in a +doorway just where he had fallen dead, stabbed to the heart.</p> + +<p>The body was taken to the nearest guard, and inquiries were +instituted. A card-case found on the body led to identification, and a +report made to the British Embassy set in motion the law and justice +of the peace.</p> + +<p>Nothing satisfactory or conclusive was brought to light. No one could +account for his lordship's presence in that, the lowest quarter of the +city; the only clue to his movements was furnished by his steward and +body-servant on board the yacht.</p> + +<p>The valet came on shore and gave his evidence before the informal +court, which was dealing with the case at the British Embassy, +presided over by the <i>attachés</i>.</p> + +<p>"When did you see his lordship last?"</p> + +<p>"Last night. My lord dined on board alone. He appeared depressed, and +altogether low. He told me he should go to bed early."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And did he?"</p> + +<p>"No. Late in the evening a shore-boat came off—one of those caiques, +I think they called them—with a letter, very urgent."</p> + +<p>"For Lord Lydstone?"</p> + +<p>"For his lordship. He seemed much disturbed on reading it."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"My lord called me and said he would dress to go on shore. I gave him +out the suit which he was wearing when the body was found."</p> + +<p>"He said nothing about the letter, or its contents?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! My lord was never given to talking much, although I was his +confidential valet since he left college. He never spoke to me of his +affairs. My lord always kept his distance, as it was proper he +should."</p> + +<p>"Could you tell at all what became of this letter?"</p> + +<p>"My lord put it in his pocket when he was dressed."</p> + +<p>"You are certain of this?"</p> + +<p>"Most positive."</p> + +<p>"Was any such letter found in the pockets of the deceased?" asked the +<i>attaché</i> of the Turkish police, through the dragoman of the Embassy.</p> + +<p>Nothing of the kind had been found.</p> + +<p>"The letter was no doubt removed purposely. This would destroy all +trace of its origin. It was evidently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> a snare, a bait to lure the +poor lord on shore," said one <i>attaché</i> to another.</p> + +<p>"It is curious that he should have been so ready to swallow it."</p> + +<p>"There must have been something peculiarly persuasive in the letter."</p> + +<p>"But we have heard that he was much distressed, or annoyed, at +receiving it."</p> + +<p>"Persuasive in a good or bad sense—probably the latter. At any rate, +it was sufficient to lure him on shore."</p> + +<p>"Of course there is something beneath all this: some intrigue, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"The old story, 'who is she?' I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But I thought he was devoted to his cousin, the fair Mrs. Wilders."</p> + +<p>"Is she still in Constantinople?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. Still at Misseri's, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether she has yet heard about this horrible affair. Some +one ought to break it to her."</p> + +<p>But no one was needed for a task from which all shrank, with not +unnatural hesitation. While they still talked, a message was brought +in to the effect that Mrs. Wilders was in the antechamber, and her +first words, when one of the <i>attachés</i> joined her, plainly showed +that she had heard of Lord Lydstone's death.</p> + +<p>"What a horrible, frightful business!" she said, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> a voice broken +with emotion. "Oh! this wicked, accursed town! How did it happen? Do +tell me all you know."</p> + +<p>"We are completely in the dark. We know nothing more than that Lord +Lydstone was found stabbed at daylight this morning in the streets of +Stamboul."</p> + +<p>"What could have taken him there?"</p> + +<p>The <i>attaché</i> shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to show, except that he was inveigled by some +mysterious communication—a letter sent on board the yacht."</p> + +<p>"Inveigled for some base purpose—robbery, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Very probably. When the body was found, it had been rifled of +everything—watch, money, rings: everything had gone."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders sighed deeply. It might have been a sigh of relief, but +to the <i>attaché</i> it seemed a new symptom of horror.</p> + +<p>"But how imprudent—how frightfully imprudent—of the poor dear lord +to venture alone, and so late at night, into that vile quarter. What +could have tempted him?"</p> + +<p>"That's what we are all asking. Some unusually powerful motive must +have influenced him, we may be sure, and that I hope we may still +ascertain. It will be the first step towards detecting the authors of +the crime."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They will be discovered, you think?"</p> + +<p>"No efforts will be spared, you may be sure. The means at our disposal +are not very first-rate, perhaps, but we have been promised the +fullest help by the Turkish Minister of Police, and we shall leave no +stone unturned."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I do so hope that the villains will be discovered. Is there +anything I can do?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly, Mrs. Wilders. But, as you are the only representative of the +family, it would be well perhaps for you to go on board the yacht. +Poor Lord Lydstone's papers and effects should be sealed up. One of us +will accompany you."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to be of any use. When shall we start?"</p> + +<p>"The sooner the better," said the <i>attaché</i>, Mr. Loftus by name; and, +leaving the inquiry, the two took boat, and were presently alongside +the <i>Arcadia</i>.</p> + +<p>They were received by the captain, a fine specimen of a west-country +sailor, a hardy seaman, well schooled in his profession, who had long +commanded a vessel in the Mediterranean trade, and was thus well +qualified to act as sailing-master in the <i>Arcadia's</i> present cruise.</p> + +<p>But Captain Trejago was soft-hearted, easily led, especially by any +daughter of Eve, and he had long since succumbed to the fascinations +of Mrs. Wilders's charms. From the day she first trod the deck of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +yacht he had become her humblest, perhaps, but most devoted, admirer +and slave.</p> + +<p>They exchanged a few words of sympathy and condolence.</p> + +<p>"You have lost a good friend, Captain Trejago," said the lady.</p> + +<p>"He was that, ma'am. My lord was one of the finest, noblest men that +ever trod in shoe-leather. And you, ma'am—it must be very terrible +for you."</p> + +<p>"Losing him in such a way, it is that which embitters my grief. But +this gentleman"—she turned to Mr. Loftus—"comes from the Embassy to +seal up his lordship's papers."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, ma'am. That ought to be done without delay."</p> + +<p>"We can go down into the cabin, then?" said Mrs. Wilders.</p> + +<p>"Why! surely, ma'am, you ought to know the way. Mr. Hemmings"—this +was the valet—"is not on board, as you know: but I will send the +second steward if you want any help."</p> + +<p>Assisted by the steward, Mr. Loftus proceeded in a business-like +manner to place the seals of the Embassy upon the desk, drawers, and +other receptacles in Lord Lydstone's cabin. While they were thus +employed, Mrs. Wilders sat at the cabin-table under the skylight, her +head resting on one hand, and in an attitude that indicated the +prostration of great sorrow. The other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> hand was on the table, +fingering idly the various objects that strewed it. There were an +inkstand, a pen-tray, a seal, a blotting-book or portfolio, and many +other odds and ends.</p> + +<p>This blotting-book, with the same listless, aimless action, Mrs. +Wilders presently turned to, and turned over the leaves one by one.</p> + +<p>Between two of them she came upon a letter, left there by accident, or +to be answered perhaps that day.</p> + +<p>The feminine instinct of curiosity Mrs. Wilders possessed in no common +degree. To look at the letter thus exposed, however unworthy the +action, was a temptation such a woman could not resist. She began to +read it, almost as a matter of course, but carelessly, and with no set +purpose, as though it was little likely to contain matter that would +interest her. But after the first few lines its perusal deeply +absorbed her. A few lines more, and she closed the book, leaving her +hand inside, and looked round the cabin.</p> + +<p>Mr. Loftus and his assistants were still busily engaged upon their +official task. Neither of them was paying the slightest attention to +her.</p> + +<p>With the hand still concealed inside the blotter, she folded up this +missive which seemed so interesting and important, and, having thus +got it into a small compass, easily and quickly transferred it to her +pocket.</p> + +<p>She looked anxiously round, fearing she might have been observed. But +no one had noticed her, and pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>sently, when Mr. Loftus had completed +his work, they again left the yacht for the shore.</p> + +<p>So soon as Mrs. Wilders regained the privacy of her own room at +Misseri's, which was not till late in the day, she took out the letter +she had laid hands on in the cabin of the yacht, and read it through +slowly and carefully.</p> + +<p>It was from Lord Lydstone's father, dated at Essendine Towers, the +principal family-seat.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," so it ran, "your mother and I are very grateful to you +for your very full and deeply interesting letter, with its ample, but +most distressing, account of our dear Anastasius. It is a proud, but +melancholy, satisfaction to know that he has maintained the traditions +of the family, and bled, like many a Wilders before him, for his +country's cause. His condition must, however, be a constant and trying +anxiety, and I beseech you, more particularly on your mother's +account, to keep us speedily informed of his progress. It is some +consolation to think that you are by his side, and it is only right +that you should remain at Constantinople so long as your brother is in +any danger.</p> + +<p>"But do not, my dear boy, linger long in the East. We want you back +with us at home. This is your proper place—you who are our eldest +born, heir to the title and estates—you should be here at my side. +There are other urgent reasons why you should return. You know how +anxious we are that you should marry and settle in life. We are doubly +so now. Your brothers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> before this hateful war broke out made the +succession, humanly speaking, almost secure. But the chances of a +campaign are unhappily most uncertain. Anastasius has been struck +down; we may lose him, which Heaven forbid; a Russian bullet may rob +us any day of dear Hugo too. In such a dire and grievous calamity, you +alone—only one single, precious life—would remain to keep the title +in our line. Do not, I beseech you, suffer it to continue thus. Come +home; marry, my son; give us another generation of descendants, and +assure the succession.</p> + +<p>"I have never made any secret of my wishes in this respect; but I have +never told you the real reasons for my deep anxiety. It was my +father's earnest hope—he inherited it from his father, as I have from +mine—that the title might never be suffered to pass to his brother +Anastasius's heirs. My uncle had married in direct opposition to his +father's orders, in an age when filial disobedience was deemed a very +heinous offence, and he was cut off with a shilling. I might say that +he deserved no better; but he did not long survive to bear the penalty +of his fault. He left a child—a daughter, however—to whom I would +willingly have lent a helping hand, but she spurned all my overtures +in a way that grieved me greatly, although I never openly complained. +That branch of the family has continued estranged from us; and I am +certainly indisposed to reopen communications with them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yet the existence of that branch cannot be ignored. It might, at any +time, through any series of mishaps of a kind I hardly like to +contemplate, but, nevertheless, quite possible in this world of +cross-purposes and sudden surprises, become of paramount importance in +the family; for in point of seniority it stands next to ourselves. The +next heir to the title, after you and your brothers, is the grandson +of Anastasius Wilders, a lad of whom I know nothing, except that he is +quite unfitted to assume the dignity of an Earl of Essendine, should +fate ever will it that he should succeed. This unfitness you will +readily appreciate when I tell you that he is at present a private +soldier in a marching-regiment in the East. Stranger still, this +regiment is the same as that in which poor Anastasius is serving—the +Royal Picts. The young man's name is McKay—Stanislas Anastasius +Wilders McKay. I have never seen him; but I am satisfied of his +existence, and of the absolute validity of his claims. My agents have +long had their eye on him, and through them I have full information of +his movements and disposition. He appears a decent, good sort of +youth. But I feel satisfied that we ought, as far as is possible by +human endeavour, to prevent his becoming the head of the family.</p> + +<p>"You are now in possession of the whole of the facts, my dear +Lydstone, and I need scarcely insist upon the way in which you are +affected by them. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> will not hesitate, I am sure, after reading +this letter, to return to England the moment you can leave your poor +brother."</p> + +<p>There was more in the letter, but it dealt with purely business +matters, which did not interest the person who had become +clandestinely possessed of it.</p> + +<p>To say that Mrs. Wilders read this letter with surprise would +inadequately express its effect upon her. She was altogether taken +aback, dismayed, horror-stricken at its contents.</p> + +<p>Now, when chance, or something worse, had cleared the way towards the +great end, after which she had always eagerly, but almost hopelessly, +hankered, a new and entirely unexpected obstacle suddenly supervened.</p> + +<p>Another life was thrust in between her and the proximate enjoyment of +high rank and great wealth.</p> + +<p>Who was this interloper—this McKay—this private soldier serving in +the ranks of the Royal Picts? What sort of man? What were his +prospects—his age? Was it likely that he would stand permanently in +her way?</p> + +<p>These were facts which she must speedily ascertain. The regiment to +which he belonged was in the Crimea, part of her uncle's brigade. +Surely through him she might discover all she wanted to know. But how +could this be best accomplished?</p> + +<p>The more she thought over it, the more convinced she was that she +ought to go in person to the Crimea, to prosecute her inquiries on the +spot. While still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> doubtful as to the best means of reaching the +theatre of war, it occurred to her that she could not do better than +make use of Lord Lydstone's yacht.</p> + +<p>It would have to go home eventually—to be paid off and disposed of by +Lord Lydstone's heirs. But there was surely no immediate hurry for +this, and Mrs. Wilders thought she had sufficient influence with +Captain Trejago to persuade him, not only to postpone his departure, +but to take a trip to the Crimea.</p> + +<p>In this she was perfectly successful, and the day after Lord +Lydstone's funeral the <i>Arcadia</i>, with a fine breeze aft, steered +northward across the Black Sea.</p> + +<p>It reached Balaclava on the morning of the 5th of November, and Mrs. +Wilders immediately despatched a messenger on shore to inform the +general of her arrival. That day, however, the general and his brigade +were very busily employed. It was the day of Inkerman!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>"HARD POUNDING."</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Hobson, as he called himself, had been perfectly right when he +gleefully assured Mrs. Wilders that the Russians were gathering up +their strength for a supreme effort against the allies. Reinforcements +had been steadily pouring into the Crimea for weeks past—two of the +Czar's sons had arrived to stir up the enthusiasm of the soldiers. +Menschikoff, who still commanded, counted confidently upon inflicting +exemplary chastisement upon the invaders. He looked for nothing less, +according to an intercepted despatch, than the destruction or capture +of the whole allied army.</p> + +<p>No doubt the enemy had now an overwhelming superiority in numbers. The +total land forces under Prince Menschikoff's command, including the +garrison of Sebastopol, were 120,000 strong. Those numbers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> included a +large body of cavalry and a formidable field artillery.</p> + +<p>The entire allied army was barely half that strength. It was called +upon, moreover, to occupy an immense front—a front which extended +from the sea at Kamiesch to the Tchernaya, and from the Tchernaya, by +a long and circuitous route, back to the sea at Balaclava. This line, +offensive as regards the siege-works, but defensive along the unduly +extended and exposed right flank at Balaclava, was close on twenty +miles. The great length of front made severe demands upon the allied +troops; it could only be manned by dangerously splitting up their +whole strength into many weak units, none of which could be very +easily or rapidly reinforced by the rest.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the weakest part of the whole line was the extreme right, held +at this moment by the British Second Division. Here, on an exposed and +vitally important flank, the whole available force was barely 3,000 +men. For some time past it had been intended to fortify this flank by +field-works, armed with heavy artillery. But, although the necessity +for protecting it was thus admitted, the urgency was not exactly +understood, or at least was subordinated to other operations; as a +matter of fact, this flank was "in the air," to use a military phrase, +lying quite open and exposed, with only an insufficient, greatly +harassed garrison on the spot, and no supports or reserves near at +hand.</p> + +<p>The utmost assistance on which this small body could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> count, as was +afterwards shown, under stress, too, of most imminent danger, was +14,000 men. Not that all these numbers were fully available at any one +time; they were constantly affected and diminished by casualties in +the height and heat of the action; so that never were there more than +13,000, French and English, actually engaged.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the Russian attacking force was 70,000 strong, and +they had with them 235 guns.</p> + +<p>It was in truth another battle of giants, like Waterloo. "Hard +pounding," as the great duke said of that other fight; a fierce trial +of strength; a protracted, seemingly unequal, struggle between the +dead weight of the aggregate many and the individual prowess of the +undaunted, indomitable few.</p> + +<p>The enemy's plan of action had been minutely and carefully prepared. +We know it now. He meant to use his whole strength along his entire +front—in part with feigned and deceiving demonstrations to "contain" +or hold inactive the troops that faced him, in part with determined +onslaught, delivered with countless thousands, in massive columns, +against the reputed weakest point of our line.</p> + +<p>This plan Menschikoff hastened to put into execution. Time pressed: +the enemy had learnt through spies that an assault on Sebastopol was +close at hand. Besides, the Grand Dukes had arrived, and the troops, +worked up to the highest pitch of loyal fanatic fervour, were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> mad to +fight under the eyes of the sons of their father, the holy Czar.</p> + +<p>Dawn broke late on that drear November morning: November the 5th—a +day destined to be ever memorable in the annals of British arms: a +dawn that was delayed and darkened by dense, driving mists, and +rain-clouds, black and lowering.</p> + +<p>Nothing, however, had broken the repose of the British camp, or hinted +at the near approach of countless foes.</p> + +<p>The night had been tranquil; the enemy quiet; only, in the valley +beneath our pickets on the Inkerman heights, some sentries had heard +the constant rumbling of wheels, but their officers to whom they +reported did not interpret the same aright, as the movement of +artillery.</p> + +<p>An hour or more before daylight the church-bells of Sebastopol rang +out a joyous peal. Why not? It was the Sabbath morning. But these +chimes, alas! ushered in a Sunday of struggle and bloodshed, not of +peaceful devotion and prayer.</p> + +<p>The outlying pickets had been relieved, and were marching campwards; +the Second Division had had its customary "daylight parade"; the men +had stood to their arms for half-an-hour, and, as nothing was +stirring, had been dismissed to their tents; the fatigue-parties had +been despatched for rations, water, fuel—in a word, the ordinary +daily duties of the camp had commenced,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> when the sharp rattle of +musketry rang out angrily, and well sustained in the direction of our +foremost picket on Shell Hill.</p> + +<p>"That means mischief!" The speaker was General Codrington, who, +according to invariable rule, had ridden out before daylight to +reconnoitre and watch the enemy. "Halt the off-going pickets; we may +want all the men we can lay hands on."</p> + +<p>Then this prompt and judicious commander proceeded to line the +Victoria ridge, which faced Mount Inkerman, with the troops he had +thus impounded, and galloped off to put the rest of his brigade under +arms.</p> + +<p>The firing reached and roused another energetic general officer, +Pennefather, who now commanded the Second Division in place of De Lacy +Evans.</p> + +<p>"Sound the assembly!" he cried. "Let the division stand to its arms. +Every man must turn out: every mother's son of them. We shall be +engaged hot and strong in less than half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>As pugnacious as any terrier, Pennefather, with unerring instinct, +smelt the coming fight.</p> + +<p>His division was quickly formed on what was afterwards called the +"Home Ridge," and which was its regular parade-ground. But the general +had no idea of awaiting attack in this position. It was his plan +rather to push forward and fight the enemy wherever he could be found. +With this idea he sent a portion of his strength down the slope to +"feed the pickets," as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> himself called it, whilst another was +advanced to the right front under General Wilders, and with this body +went the Royal Picts. The Second Division benefited greatly by this +advance, for the Russians were now absolute masters of the crest of +the Inkerman hill, where they established their batteries, and poured +forth volley after volley, all of which passed harmlessly over the +heads of our men. Meanwhile the alarm spread. A continuous firing, +momentarily increasing in vigour, showed that this was no affair of +outposts, but the beginning of a great battle. The bulk of the allied +forces were under arms, and notice of the attack had been despatched +to Lord Raglan at the English headquarters.</p> + +<p>In less than a quarter-of-an-hour, long before 7 a.m., Lord Raglan was +in his saddle, ready to ride wherever he might be required most.</p> + +<p>But whither should he go? The battle, as it seemed, was waging all +around him, on every side of the allied position. A vigorous fire was +kept up from Sebastopol; down in the Tchernaya valley the army, +supposed to be still under Liprandi, but really commanded by +Gortschakoff, had advanced towards the Woronzoff road, and threatened +to repeat the tactics of Balaclava by attacking with still greater +force the right rear of our position; last of all, around Mount +Inkerman, the unceasing sound of musketry and big guns betrayed the +development of a serious attack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Raglan was not long in doubt. He knew the weakest point of the +British position, and rightly guessed that the enemy would know it +too.</p> + +<p>"I shall go to Inkerman," he said. "That is their real point, I feel +sure. And we must have up all the reinforcements we can muster. You, +Burghersh, tell Sir George Cathcart to move up his division and +support Pennefather and Brown. You, Steele, beg General Bosquet to +lend me all the men he can spare."</p> + +<p>Pennefather had his hands full by the time Lord Raglan arrived. With a +paltry 3,000 odd men he was confronting 25,000; but, happily, the +morning was so dark and the brushwood so thick that his men were +hardly conscious that they were thus outnumbered.</p> + +<p>Not that they would have greatly cared; they were manifestly animated +with a dogged determination to deny the enemy every inch of the +ground, and with unflagging courage they disputed his advance, +although they were so few. Once more it was the "Thin Red Line" +against the heavy column: hundreds against thousands, a task which for +any other troops would have been both hopeless and absurd.</p> + +<p>But Pennefather's people stoutly held their own. On his left front, +one wing of the 49th Regiment routed a whole Russian column, and drove +it back at the point of the bayonet down the hill; to give way in +turn, but not till it was threatened by 9,000 men. Next, four +companies of the Connaught Rangers stoutly engaged twenty times their +number, and only yielded after a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> stubborn fight. General Buller came +up next, with a wing of the 77th, which was faced by a solid mass five +times as strong.</p> + +<p>"There are the Russians," cried Egerton, who commanded the 77th. "What +shall we do, general?"</p> + +<p>"Charge them!" was Buller's prompt reply.</p> + +<p>The next instant the slender line, with a joyous hurrah, was engulfed +in a giant column. The effect was instantaneous. The Russian column +reeled before the fiery charge, wavered, then broke and fled.</p> + +<p>More to the right, Mauleverer prolonged the line with the 30th, and +gave so good an account of the Russians in his front that they, too, +fell back in disorder; and Bellairs, with a party of the 49th, was +equally triumphant.</p> + +<p>Beyond these forces, General Wilders, with whom young McKay now rode +as extra aide, led a fraction of his brigade, including the Royal +Picts, against the Sandbag Battery, a point deemed important because +it commanded the extreme right of the position.</p> + +<p>On the far sides of the slopes, beyond the battery were 4,000 Russian +troops, and the mere sight of Wilders with his deployed line sufficed +to shake the steadiness of the foe. The Russian bugles sounded a +retreat, the leading companies faced about, and, communicating the +panic to those behind the hill, the whole mass gave way and ran down +the slope, followed by a destructive fire from the British line.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the first phase of this unequal contest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> Pennefather had +triumphed to an extent of which neither he nor his heroes were fully +aware. Barely 1,200 men had routed 15,000! The few had achieved a +decisive victory over the many.</p> + +<p>But the struggle had only just begun. Many more and still severer +trials awaited our starving, weary, sorely-beset soldiers that day.</p> + +<p>The enemy had numberless fresh and still untried troops at hand. +Column after column had been moving steadily forward, some from the +town, some from the eastern side of the Tchernaya, and already the +Russian generals were in a position to renew the fight. A new +onslaught was now organised, to be made by 19,000 men under cover of +ninety guns.</p> + +<p>So far in those early days of the battle the brunt of it had fallen +upon the Second Division, supported by a portion of the Light. Stout +old General Pennefather had had the supreme control throughout.</p> + +<p>"I will not interfere with you," Lord Raglan said, as, standing by his +staff, he watched the progress of the fight from the ridge. "You know +your ground, as you have occupied it so long with your camp. I'm sure +I can trust you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my lord. I'll do my best, never fear," replied +Pennefather.</p> + +<p>"Their artillery fire is very troublesome, and must be over-mastered. +If I could only get up some of the siege-train guns to help you. Let +some one go back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> the artillery park, and tell them I want a couple +of eighteen pounders."</p> + +<p>An aide-de-camp at once galloped off with the order, but two or three +eventful hours elapsed before these guns were brought to bear upon the +action.</p> + +<p>Pennefather's men, although for the moment triumphant, had their hands +full. They showed an undaunted front or "knotted line" of +fighting-men: the remnants of the pickets, fragments, and +odds-and-ends of many regiments, mixed up and intermingled, still in +contact with the enemy, and so far still without supports.</p> + +<p>Officers came back rather despondingly to ask for help.</p> + +<p>"I cannot send you a single man," was the firm reply to one applicant. +"You must stand your ground somehow."</p> + +<p>"We should be all right, sir, but the men have run out of ammunition."</p> + +<p>"It's no use. I can't give you a round. What does it matter? Don't +make difficulties. Stick to your bayonets. And remember you've got to +hold on where you are, or we shall be driven into the sea."</p> + +<p>The want of cartridges was what the troops felt most direly. They +growled savagely and grumbled at the mismanagement that kept back +these indispensable supplies.</p> + +<p>Only here and there the energetic action of a few shrewd officers did +something to mend the mischief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus the Royal Picts benefited by the astute promptitude of +long-headed Sergeant Hyde. He was acting as quartermaster, and as such +had been left behind in camp, although sorely against his will, when +the rest of the regiment went out to fight. But he had heard the long, +well-sustained roll of musketry-fire, and it satisfied one not new to +war that a very close contest had begun.</p> + +<p>"They'll soon fire away their cartridges at this rate," he said to +himself. "If I could only get the ammunition-reserves up to them! I'll +do it." And on his own responsibility he laid hands on all the beasts +in camp: spare chargers, officers' ponies, and other animals, and +quickly loaded them with the cartridge-boxes. Then, leading the +cavalcade, he hurried to the front, asking as he went for the Royal +Picts.</p> + +<p>He found his regiment in the Sandbag Battery, and they received him, +so soon as his errand was known, with a wild cheer.</p> + +<p>"Excellently done!" cried Colonel Blythe. "You have a good head on +your shoulders, Hyde: ammunition was the one thing we needed."</p> + +<p>"Yes," shouted a brawny soldier, "we were just killed for want of +cartridges."</p> + +<p>"And want of food," grumbled another; "sorra bite nor sup since +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Sergeant darling," said a third, "won't you sound the +breakfast-bugle? Fighting on an empty stomach is but a poor pastime."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus, in the interval between two combats, but always under a galling +and destructive fire, they joked and bandied words with a freedom that +discipline would not have tolerated at any other time.</p> + +<p>"I think, colonel, I could bring up the rations: biscuits and cold +pork, anyhow," suggested Hyde.</p> + +<p>"And the grog-tub: don't forget that, sergeant" cried a fresh voice.</p> + +<p>"By all means, Hyde, get us what you can," replied Blythe; "the men +are all fasting, and some sort of a meal would be very good for them, +only you must keep a sharp look-out for us. We may not be still here +when you return."</p> + +<p>This Sandbag Battery, which for the moment the Royal Picts still held, +was the object of ceaseless contention that day. Although at best but +an empty prize, useful to neither side, because its parapet was too +high to be fired over, the battery was lost and won, captured and +recaptured, constantly during the battle.</p> + +<p>Even now the Russians, regaining heart, had made it the first aim of +their fresh attack.</p> + +<p>General Dannenberg, who was now in chief command, had a twofold +object: he was resolved to press the centre of the English position +and at the same time vigorously attack the right, throwing all his +weight first upon the Sandbag Battery.</p> + +<p>The small force under General Wilders, which included the Royal Picts, +soon began to feel the stress of this renewed onslaught.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are coming on again and in great numbers, sir," said McKay to +his general.</p> + +<p>"I see, and menacing both our flanks. We shall be surrounded and +swallowed up if we don't take care."</p> + +<p>"Some support ought to be near by this time, sir," replied McKay.</p> + +<p>"Ride back, and see. I don't want to be outflanked."</p> + +<p>McKay retired and presently came upon two battalions of Guards, +Grenadiers and Fusiliers, advancing under the command of the Duke of +Cambridge.</p> + +<p>"General Wilders, sir, is very hard pressed in the Sandbag Battery," +said McKay, briefly.</p> + +<p>"I'll march at once to his aid," replied the duke, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Sir George Cathcart and part of the Fourth Division are coming up, +and not far off," added one of the staff; "we won't wait for any one. +Ride on ahead, sir,"—this was to McKay,—"and let your general know +he is about to be supported by her Majesty's Guards."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>A COSTLY VICTORY.</h3> + + +<p>Now followed one of the fiercest and bloodiest episodes of the day.</p> + +<p>Wilders had made the best show with his little band and clung +tenaciously to the battery yet. The Russians came on and on, with +stubborn insistence, and all along the line a hand-to-hand fight +ensued. Numbers told at length, and the small garrison was slowly +forced back, after enduring serious loss.</p> + +<p>It was in this retreat that General Wilders received a dangerous +wound: a fragment of a shell tore away the left leg below the knee.</p> + +<p>"Will some one kindly lift me from my horse?" he said quietly, +schooling his face to continue calm, in spite of the agony he +endured.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>McKay was on the ground in an instant and by his general's side.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind me, my boy" said the general. "Leave me with the doctors."</p> + +<p>"On no account, sir; I should not think of it." "Yes, yes. They want +every man. Attach yourself to Blythe; he will command the brigade now. +Do not stay with me: I insist."</p> + +<p>McKay yielded to the general's entreaties, but first saw the wounded +man bestowed in a litter and carried to the rear.</p> + +<p>Then he joined Colonel Blythe.</p> + +<p>But now fortune smiled again. Our artillery had stayed the Russian +advance; and the Grenadier Guards, followed by the Fusiliers, once +more regained the coveted but worthless stronghold.</p> + +<p>They could not hold it permanently, however: the tide of battle ebbed +and flowed across it, and the victory leant alternately to either +side. The Guards fought like giants, outnumbered but never outmatched, +wielding their weapons with murderous prowess, and, when iron missiles +failed them, hurling rocks—Titan-like—at their foes.</p> + +<p>Even when won this Sandbag Battery was a perilous prize: tempting the +English leaders to adventure too far to the front and to leave a great +gap in the general line of defence unoccupied and undefended.</p> + +<p>Lord Raglan saw the error and would have skilfully averted the +impending evil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That opening leaves the left of the Guards exposed," he said to +Airey. "Tell Cathcart to fill it."</p> + +<p>"You are to move to the left and support the Guards," was the message +conveyed to Cathcart, "but not to descend or leave the plateau. Those +are Lord Raglan's orders."</p> + +<p>But Sir George chose to interpret them his own way, and already—with +Torrens's brigade and a weak body at best—he had gone down the hill +to join the Guards. In the sharp but misdirected encounter which +followed, the general lost his life, and his force, with the Guards, +were for a time cut off from their friends.</p> + +<p>A Russian column had wedged in at the gap and for a time forbade +retreat, but it was at length sheered off by the first of the French +reinforcements; and the intercepted British, in greatly diminished +numbers, by degrees won their way home.</p> + +<p>This fighting around the Sandbag Battery had cost us very dear: +Cathcart was killed, the Guards were decimated, and Wilders's brigade, +now commanded by Colonel Blythe, had fallen back, spent and +disorganised. So serious indeed were these losses that for the next +hour the brigade possessed no coherent shape, and only by dint of the +unwearied exertions of its officers was it rallied sufficiently to +share in the later phases of the fight.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the centre of our line, where Pennefather stood posted on +the Home Ridge, had been furiously assailed. Gathering their forces +under shelter of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> deep ravine, the Russian general sent up column +after column, first against the left and then against the right of the +Ridge. Gravely weakened by his early encounter, Pennefather had only a +handful of his own men to meet this attack. They were now pressed back +indeed, although their general was beginning to wield detachments from +other commands. A portion of the Fourth Division had been put under +his orders.</p> + +<p>General Cathcart, just before his death, had come to him with a +battalion of the Rifle Brigade.</p> + +<p>"They can do anything," he had said. "Where are they wanted most?"</p> + +<p>"Everywhere!" had been old Pennefather's reply.</p> + +<p>But now, having at hand this splendid body of infantry, of whom their +leader had been so pardonably proud, he hurled them at the flank of a +column that was forcing back its own men.</p> + +<p>The effect of the charge was instantaneous: the Russians could not +withstand it; and, the men of the Second Division again advancing, the +foe was pressed as far as the Barrier, where he was held at bay.</p> + +<p>But the left of the ridge was still menaced, although the centre was +cleared. On this flank Pennefather disposed of some new troops, also +of the Fourth Division: the 63rd and part of the 21st.</p> + +<p>He rode up to their head and made them a short but stirring address.</p> + +<p>"Now, Sixty-third, let's see what metal you are made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> of! The enemy is +close upon you: directly you see them, fire a volley and charge!"</p> + +<p>His answer was a vehement cheer. The 63rd fired as it was ordered, and +then drove the Russians down the hill.</p> + +<p>One more trial awaited Pennefather at this period of the battle. His +right, on the Home Ridge, was now assailed; but here again the 20th, +with their famous Minden yell—an old historical war-cry, always +cherished and secretly practised in the corps—met and overcame the +enemy. They were actively supported by the 57th, the gallant +"Diehards," a title they had earned at Albuera, one of the bloodiest +of the Peninsular fights.</p> + +<p>Thus, for the second time, Pennefather stood victorious on the ground +he so obstinately held. After two hours of incessant fighting the +Russians had made no headway. But although twice repulsed they had +inflicted terrible losses on our people. They had still in hand +substantial supports untouched; they had brought up more and more +guns; they were as yet far from despondent, and their generals might +still count upon making an impression by sheer weight of numbers +alone.</p> + +<p>As for ourselves, the English were almost at the end of their +resources. There were no fresh troops to bring up; only the Third +Division remained in reserve, and it was fully occupied in guarding +the trenches.</p> + +<p>The French, it is true, could have thrown the weight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> of many +thousands into the scale; but General Canrobert had not set his more +distant divisions in motion, and the only troops that could affect the +struggle—Bosquet's—were still far to the rear.</p> + +<p>In the contest that was now to be renewed the balance between the +offensive forces was more than ever unequal.</p> + +<p>Dannenberg gathered together upon the northern slopes of Mount +Inkerman some 17,000 men, partly those who had been already defeated, +but were by no means disheartened, and partly perfectly fresh troops. +On the other hand, Pennefather's force was reduced to a little over +3,000, to which a couple of French regiments might now be added, 1,600 +strong. The Russians had a hundred guns in position; the allies barely +half that number.</p> + +<p>Yet in the struggle that was imminent the battle of Inkerman was +practically to be decided.</p> + +<p>The Russian general had now resolved to make a concentrated attack in +column upon Pennefather's Ridge. He sent up another great mass from +the quarry ravine, flanked and covered by crowds of skirmishers. In +the centre, the vanguard pressed forward swiftly, drove back the +slender garrison of the Barrier, and advanced unchecked towards the +Ridge. There were no English troops to oppose their advance; a French +battalion only was close at hand, and they seemed to shrink from the +task of opposing the foe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They do not seem very firm, these Frenchmen," said Lord Raglan, who +was closely watching events. "Why, gracious goodness, they are giving +way! We must strengthen them by some of our own men. Bring up the +55th—they have re-formed, I see. Stay! what is that?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, an English staff officer was seen to ride up to the +wavering French battalion. From his raised hand and impassioned +gestures he was evidently addressing them. He was speaking in French, +too, it was clear, for his harangue had the effect of restoring +confidence in the shaken body. The battalion no longer stood +irresolute, but advanced to meet the foe.</p> + +<p>"Excellently done!" cried Lord Raglan. "Find out for me at once who +that staff-officer is."</p> + +<p>An aide-de-camp galloped quickly to the spot, and returned with the +answer—</p> + +<p>"Mr. McKay, my lord, aide-de-camp to General Wilders."</p> + +<p>"Remember that name, Airey, and see after the young fellow. But where +is his general?"</p> + +<p>"Wounded, and gone to the rear, my lord," was the reply.</p> + +<p>The bold demeanour of the French battalion restrained the advancing +enemy until some British troops could reach the threatened point. Then +together they met the advance. The Russian attack was now fully +developed, and his great column was well up the slopes of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> the ridge. +While the French, animated by the warm language of Pennefather, +stopped its head, a mad charge delivered by a small portion of the +55th broke into its flank.</p> + +<p>The Russians halted, hesitating under this unexpected attack. +Pennefather instantly saw the check, and gave voice to a loud +"hurrah." The cry was taken up by his men, and the French drums came +to the front and sounded the <i>pas de charge</i>. With a wild burst of +enthusiasm, the allies, intermingled, raced forward, and once again +the foe was driven down the hill. At the same time his flanking +columns were met and forced back on the left by the 21st and the 63rd.</p> + +<p>The Barrier was again re-occupied by our troops, and the third, the +chief and most destructive Russian onslaught, had also failed.</p> + +<p>The day was still young; it was little past 9 a.m., and the battle as +yet was neither lost nor won.</p> + +<p>The Russians had been three times discomfited and driven back, but +they still held the ground they had first seized upon the crests of +the Inkerman hill, and, seemingly, defied the allies to dislodge them.</p> + +<p>The English were far too weak to do this. Our whole efforts were +concentrated upon keeping the enemy at bay at the Barrier, where +Blythe, now in chief command, managed with difficulty, and with a very +mixed force, to beat off assailants still pertinacious and tormenting.</p> + +<p>The French were now coming up in support, but of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> their troops already +on the ground two battalions had gone astray, wandering off on a +fool's errand towards the pernicious Sandbag Battery, where they, too, +were destined to meet repulse.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the Russians, despite their last discomfiture, were regaining +the ascendant.</p> + +<p>But now the sagacious forethought of Lord Raglan was to bear +astonishing fruit. It has been told in the previous chapter how he was +bent upon bringing up some of the siege-train guns, and how he had +despatched a messenger for them. His aide-de-camp had found the +colonel of the siege-park artillery anticipating the order. Two +18-pounders, which since Balaclava had been kept ready for instant +service, were waiting to be moved. There were no teams of horses at +hand to drag them up to the front, but the man-harness was brought +out, and the willing gunners cheerily entered the shafts, and threw +themselves with fierce energy into the collars. Officers willingly +lent a hand, and thus the much-needed ordnance was got up a long and +toilsome incline.</p> + +<p>It was a slow job, however, and two full hours elapsed before they +were placed in position on the right flank of the Home Ridge.</p> + +<p>"At last!" was Lord Raglan's greeting; "now, my lads, load and fire as +fast as you can."</p> + +<p>The artillery officers themselves laid their guns, which were served +and fired with promptitude and precision.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now followed a short but sanguinary duel. The Russian guns answered +shot for shot, and at first worked terrible havoc in our ranks.</p> + +<p>Colonel Gambier of the artillery was struck down: other officers were +wounded, and many of the men.</p> + +<p>Still Lord Raglan stood his ground, watching the action with keen +interest and the most admirable self-possession. He was perfectly +unmoved by the heavy fire and the carnage it occasioned.</p> + +<p>One or two of his staff besought him to move a little further to the +rear, but he met the suggestion with good-natured contempt.</p> + +<p>"My lord rather likes being under fire than otherwise," whispered one +aide-de-camp to another.</p> + +<p>He certainly took it uncommonly cool, and in the thick of it could +unbend with kindly condescension when a sergeant who was passing had +his forage-cap knocked off by the wind of a passing shot.</p> + +<p>"A near thing that, my man," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>The sergeant—it was Hyde, returning from the Barrier, where he had +been with more ammunition—coolly dusted his cap on his knee, replaced +it on his head, and then, formally saluting the Commander-in-Chief, +replied with a self-possession that delighted Lord Raglan—</p> + +<p>"A miss is as good as a mile, my lord."</p> + +<p>Through all this the 18-pounders kept up a ceaseless and effective +fire. They were clearly of a heavier calibre than any the Russians +owned, and soon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> weight of their metal and our gunners' unerring +aim began to tell upon the enemy's ranks.</p> + +<p>The Russian guns were frequently shifted from spot to spot, but they +could not escape the murderous fire.</p> + +<p>At last, in truth, the Russian hold on Inkerman hill was shaken to the +core.</p> + +<p>Victory at last was in our grasp, and, but for the old and fatal +drawback of insufficient numbers, the battle must have ended in a +complete disaster for the Russian arms. A vigorous offensive, +undertaken by fresh troops, must have ended in the speedy overthrow, +possibly annihilation, of the enemy.</p> + +<p>But the only troops available for the purpose were the French. Bosquet +had now come up with his brigade, and D'Autemarre, released by +Gortschakoff's retreat, had followed with a second. There were thus +some seven or eight thousand French available. Still Canrobert was +disinclined to move.</p> + +<p>He was now with Lord Raglan on the Ridge, with his arm in a sling, for +he had just been struck by a shrapnel-shell.</p> + +<p>He was downcast and dejected, for Bosquet had gone off on a wild-goose +chase after two errant battalions, and had shared in their repulse. +Just now, indeed, so far from proving the saviours of the hard-pressed +English, our French allies were themselves in retreat.</p> + +<p>Lord Raglan strove to reassure his colleague.</p> + +<p>"All is going well, my general," he said; "we are winning the day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish I could think so," replied Canrobert.</p> + +<p>"Well, but listen to the message my aide-de-camp has brought from +General Pennefather. What did he say, Calthorpe?"</p> + +<p>"General Pennefather, my lord, says he only wants a few fresh troops +to follow the enemy up now, and lick them to the devil. These are his +very words, my lord."</p> + +<p>Lord Raglan laughed heartily, and translated his stout-hearted +lieutenant's language literally for Canrobert.</p> + +<p>"Ah! what a brave man!" cried the French general, lighting up. "A +splendid general, a most valiant man."</p> + +<p>"You see now, general; one more effort and the day is ours. Won't you +help?"</p> + +<p>"But, my lord, what can I do? The Russians are all round us still, and +in great strength. See there, there, and there," he cried, pointing +with his unwounded arm.</p> + +<p>"Tell General Pennefather to come and speak to me at once," Lord +Raglan now said to the aide-de-camp, hoping that the gallant bearing +of the victorious veteran would infuse fresh hope in Canrobert.</p> + +<p>Now General Pennefather galloped up, as radiantly happy as any +schoolboy who has just finished his fifteenth round.</p> + +<p>"I should like to press them, my lord. They are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> retreating already, +and we could give a fine account of them."</p> + +<p>"What have you left to pursue with?" asked Lord Raglan, still hoping +to encourage the French to undertake the offensive.</p> + +<p>"Seven or eight hundred now, in the first brigade alone."</p> + +<p>"To pursue thousands!" exclaimed Canrobert, when this was interpreted +to him; "you must be mad! I will have nothing to do with this; we have +done enough for one day."</p> + +<p>Now again, as on the Alma, when the heights had been carried by storm, +the fruits of victory were lost by our unenterprising, over-cautious +allies.</p> + +<p>This, indeed, is the true story of Inkerman, as told on incontestable +evidence of the great historian of the war. The French did not rescue +the English from disaster; they were themselves repulsed. At the close +of the action, when they might have actively pursued, their +irresolution robbed the victory of its most decisive results.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible and far too costly victory, after all. The English +army, already terribly weak, suffered such serious losses in the fight +that there were those who would have at once re-embarked the remnants +and raised the siege. Retreat on the morrow of victory would have been +craven indeed, but to stand firm with such shattered forces was a bold +and hazardous resolve, for which Lord Raglan deserves the fullest +credit, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> the coming winter, with its terrible trials, was destined +to put his self-reliance to the proof.</p> + +<p>It is time to return more particularly to our friends, who took part +in this hard-fought, glorious action.</p> + +<p>By midday the worse part of the battle was over, and although Colonel +Blythe still clung to his Barrier, whence he launched forth small +parties to harass the retreating foe, McKay was released of his +attendance upon the acting brigadier, and suffered to follow his own +general to the rear.</p> + +<p>They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital +marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp +found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side.</p> + +<p>McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief.</p> + +<p>"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager +interest.</p> + +<p>"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow.</p> + +<p>"How are you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Very weak. My fighting days are done."</p> + +<p>"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round. +Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face.</p> + +<p>"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>and—"</p> + +<p>"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be +close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the +tent.</p> + +<p>Outside the surgeon ended the sentence he had left incomplete.</p> + +<p>"The general," he said, "will be in no immediate danger if we could +count upon his having proper care. With that, I think we could promise +to save his life."</p> + +<p>"He shall have the most devoted attention from me," began McKay.</p> + +<p>"We know that. But he wants more: the very best hospital treatment, +with all its comforts and appliances; and how can we possibly secure +these here on this bleak plateau?"</p> + +<p>Just then one of the general's orderlies came in sight and approached +McKay.</p> + +<p>"A letter, sir, for the general, marked 'Immediate.'"</p> + +<p>"The general can attend to no correspondence. You know he has been +desperately wounded."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, but the messenger would not take that for an answer."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"A seaman from Balaclava, belonging to some yacht that has just +arrived."</p> + +<p>"Lord Lydstone's perhaps. That would indeed be fortunate," went on +McKay, turning to the doctor. "It is the general's cousin, you know; +and on board the yacht—if we could get him there?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is not impossible, I think. In fact, it would have to be done."</p> + +<p>"Well, on board the yacht he would get the careful nursing you speak +of. Is he well enough, do you think, to read this letter?"</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances, yes. Give it me, and I will take it in to +the general."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later McKay was again called in to the marquee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, McKay, I wish you would be so good—" began the wounded man. +"This letter, I mean, is from Mrs. Wilders; she has just arrived."</p> + +<p>"Here, in the Crimea, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has come up in Lord Lydstone's yacht, and I want you to be +so good as to go to her and break the news." He pointed sadly down the +bed towards his shattered limb.</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir, as soon as I can order out a fresh horse I will go to +Balaclava. Perhaps I had better stay on board for a time, and make +arrangements to receive you; if Lord Lydstone will allow me, that is +to say."</p> + +<p>"Lord Lydstone is not there. Mrs. Wilders tells me she has come up +alone, and in the very nick of time. But now be off, McKay, and lose +no time. Be gentle with her: it will be a great shock, I am afraid."</p> + +<p>The aide-de-camp galloped off on his errand, and finding a boat from +the yacht waiting by the wharf in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> Balaclava harbour he put up his +horse and went off to the <i>Arcadia</i>. She was still lying outside.</p> + +<p>McKay's appearance was not exactly presentable. He had been turned out +at daybreak with the rest of the division at the first alarm, and had +had no time to attend to his toilette, such as it was in these rough +campaigning days. Since then he had been in his saddle for several +hours and constantly in the heat and turmoil of the fight. His clothes +were torn, mud-encrusted, and bloodstained; his face was black and +grimy with gunpowder smoke.</p> + +<p>But he had no thought of his looks as he sprang on to the white, +trimly-kept deck of the yacht.</p> + +<p>Captain Trejago met him.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked the sailing-master, rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see Mrs. Wilders," replied McKay, still more curtly.</p> + +<p>"You had better wash your face first," said Captain Trejago, very +jealous of the proper respect due to Mrs. Wilders. "It is uncommonly +dirty."</p> + +<p>"And so would yours be if you had been doing what I have."</p> + +<p>"What might that be?"</p> + +<p>"Fighting."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are ready to begin again? If so, I'm your man. But you +will have to wait till we get on shore."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pshaw! don't be an idiot. We have been engaged with the Russians ever +since daybreak. But there, this is mere waste of breath. I tell you I +want to see Mrs. Wilders. I come from the general. I am his +aide-de-camp. Show the way, will you?"</p> + +<p>"It may be as you say," muttered Trejago, not half satisfied. "But you +will have to wait till Mrs. Wilders says she will receive you."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? Who is this person?"</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Mrs. Wilders, who now advanced from the stern of +the yacht, having seen but not overheard the latter part of the +altercation.</p> + +<p>McKay stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a message from the general."</p> + +<p>"Why did he not come himself?"</p> + +<p>"It was quite impossible."</p> + +<p>"I particularly begged him to come. Who, pray, are you? Stay!" she +went on, "I ought to know your face. We have met before: at Gibraltar, +was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at Gibraltar. I was the general's orderly sergeant."</p> + +<p>"And do you still hold the same distinguished position?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mrs. Wilders," said McKay, simply; "I am now a commissioned +officer, and have the honour to be the general's aide-de-camp."</p> + +<p>"Rapid promotion that: I hope you deserved it. May I ask your name?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"McKay—Stanislas McKay."</p> + +<p>Could it be possible? The very man she was in search of the first to +speak to her on arrival here at Balaclava! Surely there must be some +mistake! Mastering her emotion at the suddenness of this news, she +said—</p> + +<p>"You will forgive my curiosity, but have you any other Christian +names?"</p> + +<p>"My name in full is Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay."</p> + +<p>"That answer is my best excuse for asking you the question. You are, +then, our cousin?"</p> + +<p>McKay bowed.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of you," said Mrs. Wilders. "Allow me to congratulate +you," and she held out her hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>A NOVEMBER GALE.</h3> + + +<p>"Will you not come down into the cabin?" said Mrs. Wilders, civilly; +"the lunch is still on the table, and I daresay you will be glad of +something to eat."</p> + +<p>"I have not touched food all day, Mrs. Wilders."</p> + +<p>"You must have been very busy, then?"</p> + +<p>"Surely you have heard what has happened this morning?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders looked at him amazed.</p> + +<p>"A desperate battle has been fought."</p> + +<p>"Another!" She thought of what Mr. Hobson had told her. "How has it +ended? In whose favour? Are we safe here?"</p> + +<p>"There is no cause for alarm. The Russians have been handsomely beaten +again; but we have suffered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> considerable loss," he said, hesitating a +little, fearing to be too brusque with his bad news.</p> + +<p>"Is that why the general could not come?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. He has had a great deal to do."</p> + +<p>"Nothing should have prevented him from coming here."</p> + +<p>It never seemed to have occurred to her that he had been in any +danger; nor, as McKay noticed, had she asked whether he was safe and +well.</p> + +<p>"It was quite impossible for him to come. He—he—"</p> + +<p>"Pray go on! You are very tantalising."</p> + +<p>"The general has been badly wounded," McKay now blurted out abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Dear! dear!" she said, rather coolly. "I am very sorry to hear it. +When and how did it occur?"</p> + +<p>McKay explained.</p> + +<p>"Poor dear!" This was the first word of sympathy she had spoken, and +even now she made no offer to go to him.</p> + +<p>"The doctors think there is no great danger if—"</p> + +<p>"Danger!" This seemed to rouse her. "I trust not."</p> + +<p>"No danger," went on McKay, "if only he can be properly nursed. They +were glad to hear of the arrival of the yacht, and think he ought to +be moved on board."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course this will be the best place for him. When can he be +brought? I suppose I ought to go to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> him. Will it be possible to get a +conveyance to the front?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but an ambulance, I fear. And you know there is no road."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I hardly know what to say."</p> + +<p>"We could manage a saddle-horse for you, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"I'm a very poor horsewoman: you see I'm half a foreigner. No; the +best plan will be to stay on board and get everything ready for the +poor dear man. When may we expect him?"</p> + +<p>"The doctors seem to wish the removal might not be delayed. You may +see us in the morning."</p> + +<p>"So, then, I am to have the pleasure of meeting you again, Mr. McKay?"</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to leave the general while I can be of any use. He +has been a kind friend to me."</p> + +<p>"And you are a relation. Of course it is very natural you should wish +to be at his side. I am sure I shall be delighted to have your +assistance in nursing him," said Mrs. Wilders, very graciously; and +soon afterwards McKay took his leave.</p> + +<p>"So that is the last stumbling-block in my son's way: a sturdy, +self-reliant sort of gentleman, likely to be able to take care of +himself. I should like to get him into my power: but how, I wonder, +how?"</p> + +<p>Next day they moved the wounded general to Balaclava, and got him +safely on board the <i>Arcadia</i>. He was accompanied by a doctor and +McKay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders received her husband with the tenderest solicitude.</p> + +<p>"How truly fortunate I came here!" she said, with the tears in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lydstone made no objection, then? Has he remained at Constantinople?" +the general asked, feebly.</p> + +<p>"Lydstone? Don't you know? He—" But why should she tell him? It +would only distress him greatly, and, in his present precarious +condition, he should be spared all kind of emotion. With this idea she +had begged Captain Trejago to say nothing as yet of the sad end of his +noble owner.</p> + +<p>"Will it not be best to get the general down to Scutari?" she asked +the doctor.</p> + +<p>"In a day or two, yes. When he has recovered the shaking of the move +on board."</p> + +<p>"The captain wanted to know. He has no wish to go inside the harbour, +as it is so crowded; but he would not like to remain long off this +coast. It might be dangerous, he says."</p> + +<p>"A lee-shore, you know," added Captain Trejago, for himself. "Look at +those straight cliffs; fancy our grinding on to them, with a +southerly, or rather a south-westerly, gale!"</p> + +<p>"Is there any immediate prospect of bad weather?" asked McKay. He and +the sailing-master were by this time pretty good friends.</p> + +<p>"I don't much like the look of the glass. It's rather jumpy; if +anything, inclined to go back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What should you do if it came on dirty?" the skipper was asked.</p> + +<p>"Up stick, and run out to get an offing. It would be our only chance, +with this coast to leeward."</p> + +<p>Three or four days later the skipper came with a long face to the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"I like the look of it less and less. The glass has dropped suddenly: +such a drop as I've never seen out of the tropics. Is there anything +against our putting to sea this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>It so happened that General Wilders was not quite so well.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather you waited a day or two," replied the surgeon. "It might +make all the difference to the patient."</p> + +<p>"Well, if it must be," replied the captain, very discontentedly.</p> + +<p>"It's his life that's in question."</p> + +<p>"Against all of ours. But let it be so. We'll try and weather the +storm."</p> + +<p>Next morning, about dawn, it burst upon them—the memorable hurricane +of the 14th November, which did such appalling damage on shore and at +sea. Not a tent remained standing on the plateau. The tornado swept +the whole surface clean.</p> + +<p>At sea the sight as daylight grew stronger was enough to make the +stoutest heart, ignorant landsman's or practised seaman's, quail. A +whole fleet—great line-of-battle ships, a crowd of transports under +sail and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> steam—lay at the mercy of the gale, which increased every +moment in force and fury. The waves rose with the wind, and the white +foam of "stupendous" breakers angrily lashed the rock-bound shore.</p> + +<p>"Will you ride it out?" asked McKay of the captain, as the two stood +with the doctor crouched under the gunwale of the yacht and holding on +to the shrouds.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't we?" replied Trejago, shortly, as though the question +was an insult to himself and his ship.</p> + +<p>"That's more than some can say!" cried the doctor, pointing to one +great ship, the ill-fated <i>Prince</i>, which had evidently dragged her +anchors and was drifting perilously towards the cliffs.</p> + +<p>"Our tackle is sound and the holding is good," said Trejago, +hopefully. "But we ought not to speak so loud. It may alarm Mrs. +Wilders."</p> + +<p>"Does she not know our danger? Some one ought to tell her. You had +better go, McKay."</p> + +<p>The aide-de-camp made rather a wry face. He was not fond of Mrs. +Wilders, whose manner, sometimes oily, sometimes supercilious, was too +changeable to please him, and he felt that the woman was not true.</p> + +<p>However, he went down to the cabin, where he found Mrs. Wilders, with +a white, scared face, cowering in a corner as she listened to the +howling of the storm.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything the matter?" she cried, springing up as he +appeared. "Is there any danger?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I trust not; still, it is well to be prepared."</p> + +<p>"For what? Do you mean that we may be lost, drowned—here, in sight of +port—all of us—my dear general and myself? It is too dreadful! Why +does not the captain run inside the harbour and put us on dry ground?"</p> + +<p>"I fear it would be too great a risk to try and make the mouth of the +harbour in this gale."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you seek help from some of the other ships—the +men-of-war? There are plenty of them all around."</p> + +<p>"Every ship outside Balaclava is in the same stress as ourselves. They +could spare us no help, even if we asked for it."</p> + +<p>"What, then, are we to do?—in Heaven's name!"</p> + +<p>"Trust in Providence and hope for the best! But I think—if I might +suggest—it would be as well to keep the general in ignorance of our +condition, which is not so very desperate after all."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"'Our cables are stout,' Captain Trejago says, and we ought to be able +to ride out the storm."</p> + +<p>And the <i>Arcadia</i> did so gallantly all that day, in the teeth of the +hurricane, which blew with unabated fury for many more hours, and in +spite of the tempest-torn sea, which now ran mountains high.</p> + +<p>All through that anxious day Trejago kept the deck, watching the sky +and the storm. It was late in the afternoon when he said, with a sigh +of relief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"The wind is hauling round to the westward; I expect the gale will +abate before long."</p> + +<p>He was right, although to eyes less keen there was small comfort yet +in the signs of the weather.</p> + +<p>It was an awful scene—ships everywhere in distress: some on the point +of foundering, others being dashed to pieces on the rocks. The great +waves, as they raged past in fearful haste, bore upon their foaming +crests great masses of wreck, the dread vestiges of terrible +disasters. Amongst the floating timbers and spars, encumbered with +tangles of cordage, floated great bundles of hay, the lost cargo of +heavily-laden transports that had gone down.</p> + +<p>Still, as Trejago said, there was hope at last. The gale had spent its +chief force and was no longer directly on shore. The more pressing and +immediate danger was over.</p> + +<p>"It won't do to stop here, though," he went on, "not one second longer +than we can help. Now that there is a slant in the wind we can run +south under a close-reefed trysail and storm-jib. What say you, +doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I'll step down and see the general."</p> + +<p>"Don't lose any time. I should like to slip my cable this next +half-hour. I shan't be happy till we've got sea-room."</p> + +<p>McKay went below with the doctor, and, while the latter sat with his +patient, the aide-de-camp had a short talk with Mrs. Wilders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The captain wants to put to sea."</p> + +<p>"Never! not in this storm!"</p> + +<p>"It is abating fast. Besides, he says it will be far safer to be +running snug under storm-canvas than remaining here on this wild +coast."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will do no such thing. It will be madness. I must speak to +him at once."</p> + +<p>She seized a shawl, and, throwing it over her head, ran up on deck.</p> + +<p>McKay followed her and was by her side before she had left the +companion-ladder.</p> + +<p>"Take care, pray. There is a heavy sea on still and the deck is very +slippery. I will call Captain Trejago if you will wait here."</p> + +<p>"One moment; do not leave me, Mr. McKay. What an exciting, +extraordinary scene! But how terrible!"</p> + +<p>The yacht rode the waves gallantly: now on their crest, now in the +trough between two giant rollers, and always wet with spray. Fragments +of wreck still came racing by, borne swiftly by the waters and adding +greatly to the horrors of the dread story they told.</p> + +<p>"There must have been immense loss among the shipping," said McKay. +"It is a mercy and a marvel how we escaped."</p> + +<p>"The poor things! To be lost—cast away on this cruel, inhospitable +land. How very, very sad!"</p> + +<p>"It is safer, you see, to leave this dangerous anchorage. Do you still +want the captain? He is busy there forward."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the moment everyone was forward: they were all intent on the +straining cables and the muddle of gear that would have to be cleared +or cut away when they got up sail.</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Wilders and McKay stood at the cabin companion +alone—absolutely alone—with the raging elements, the whistling wind +still three parts of a gale, and the cruel, driving sea.</p> + +<p>"Shall I fetch the captain?" McKay repeated.</p> + +<p>"No, no! Don't disturb him; no doubt he is right. I will go below +again. This is no place for me." She took one long, last survey of the +really terrifying scene, but then, quite suddenly, there burst from +her an exclamation of horror.</p> + +<p>"There! there! Mr. McKay, look: on that piece of timber—a figure, +surely—some poor shipwrecked soul! Don't you see?"</p> + +<p>McKay, shading his eyes, gazed intently.</p> + +<p>"No. I can make nothing out," he said at length, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"How strange! I can distinguish the figure quite plainly. But never +mind, Mr. McKay; only do something. Give him some help. Try to save +him. Throw him a rope."</p> + +<p>McKay obediently seized a coil of rope, and, approaching the gunwale, +said, quickly—</p> + +<p>"Only you must show me where to throw."</p> + +<p>"There, towards that mast; it's coming close alongside."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>In her eagerness she had followed him, and was close behind as he +gathered up the rope in a coil to cast it.</p> + +<p>Once, twice, thrice, he whirled it round his head, then threw it with +so vigorous an action that his body bent over and his balance was +lost.</p> + +<p>He might have regained it, but at this supreme moment a distinct and +unmistakeable push in the back from his companion completed his +discomfiture.</p> + +<p>He clutched wildly at the shrouds with one hand—the other still held +the rope; but fruitlessly, and in an instant he fell down—far down +into the vortex of the seething, swirling sea.</p> + +<p>"Ah, traitress!" he cried, as he sank, fully conscious, as it seemed, +of the foul part she had played.</p> + +<p>Had she really wished to drown him? Her conduct after he had +disappeared bore out this conclusion.</p> + +<p>One hasty glance around satisfied her that McKay's fall had been +unobserved. If she gave the alarm at once he might still be saved.</p> + +<p>"Not yet!" she hissed between her teeth. "In five minutes it will be +too late to help him. The waters have closed over him—let him go +down, to the very bottom of the sea."</p> + +<p>But she was wise in her fiendish wickedness, and knew that as they had +been seen last together she must account for McKay's disappearance. At +the end of an interval long enough to make rescue impossible she +startled the whole yacht with her screams.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Help! Help! Mr. McKay! He has fallen overboard!"</p> + +<p>They came rushing aft to where she stood once more holding on to the +top of the companion, and plied her with questions.</p> + +<p>"There! there! make haste!" she cried—"for Heaven's sake make haste!"</p> + +<p>"A boat could hardly live in this sea," said Captain Trejago, gravely. +"Still, we must make the attempt. Who will go with me?" he asked, and +volunteers soon sprang to his side.</p> + +<p>It was a service of immense danger, but the boat was lowered, and for +more than half-an-hour made such diligent search as was possible in +the weather and in the sea.</p> + +<p>After that time the boat was brought back to the yacht by its brave +but disappointed crew.</p> + +<p>"No chance for the poor chap," said Captain Trejago, shaking his head +despondingly in reply to Mrs. Wilders's mute but eager appeal.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards they got up the anchor, and the yacht sped southward +under a few rags of sail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>UNCLE AND NEPHEW.</h3> + + +<p>It will be well to relieve at once the anxiety which the reader must +feel—unless I have altogether failed to interest him—in the fate of +my hero, Stanislas McKay.</p> + +<p>He was not drowned when, through the fiendish intervention of Mrs. +Wilders, he fell from the deck of the <i>Arcadia</i>, and was, as it +seemed, swallowed up in the all-devouring sea.</p> + +<p>He went under, it is true, but only for a moment, and, coming once +more to the surface, by a few strong strokes swam to a drifting spar. +To this he clung desperately, hoping against hope that he might yet be +picked up from the yacht. Unhappily for him, the waves ran so high +that the boat under Trejago's guidance failed to catch sight of him, +and, as we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> know, returned presently to the <i>Arcadia</i>, after a +fruitless errand, as was thought.</p> + +<p>Very shortly the yacht and the half-submerged man parted company. The +former was steered for the open sea; the latter drifted and tossed +helplessly to and fro, growing hourly weaker and more and more +benumbed, but always hanging on with convulsive tenacity to the +friendly timber that buoyed him up, and was his last frail chance of +life.</p> + +<p>All night long he was in the water, and when day dawned it seemed all +over with him, so overpowering was his despair. Consciousness had +quite abandoned him, and he was almost at the last gasp when he was +seen and picked up by a passing steamship, the <i>Burlington Castle</i>.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he asked, faintly, on coming to himself. He was in a +snug cot, in a small but cosy cabin.</p> + +<p>"Where you'd never have been but for the smartness of our look-out +man," said a steward at his bedside. "Cast away, I suppose, in the +gale?"</p> + +<p>"No: washed overboard," replied McKay, "last evening."</p> + +<p>"Thunder! and in the water all those hours! But what was your craft? +Who and what are you?"</p> + +<p>"I was on board the yacht <i>Arcadia</i>. My name is Stanislas McKay. I am +an officer of the Royal Picts—aide-de-camp to General Wilders. Where +am I?" he repeated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll learn that fast enough; with friends, anyhow. Doctor said you +weren't to talk. But just drink this, while I tell the captain you've +come to. He hasn't had sight of you yet; we hauled you aboard while it +was his watch below."</p> + +<p>Five minutes more and the captain, a jolly English tar, red in face +and round in figure, came down, with a loud voice and cheering manner, +to welcome his treasure-trove.</p> + +<p>"Well, my hearty, so this is how I find you, eh? Soused in brine. Why, +I hear they had to hang you up by the heels to let the water run out +of your mouth. Come, Stanny, my boy, this won't do."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Barto!"</p> + +<p>"The same: master of the steamship <i>Burlington Castle</i>, deep in +deals—timbers for huts—and other sundries, now lying in Balaclava, +waiting to be discharged. But, my dearest lad, you've had a narrow +squeak. Tell me, how did it happen, and when?"</p> + +<p>"I fell overboard, and I've been all night in the water: that's all."</p> + +<p>He did not choose as yet to make public his suspicions as to the real +origin of his nearly fatal accident.</p> + +<p>"I always said you had nine lives, Stanny, only don't go using them up +like this. There's not a tom-cat could stand it."</p> + +<p>"Were you out in the gale, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; and weathered it. At dawn, after the first puff, I knew we'd have +a twister, so I got up steam and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> regularly worked against it. Made a +good offing that way, and when the storm abated came back here. We +were close in when we picked you up on a log."</p> + +<p>"It was a providential escape," said Stanislas, thankfully. "I thought +it was all over with me."</p> + +<p>"We'll set you up in no time, never fear. But tell more about +yourself. Jove! you are a fine chap, Stanny. Why, you'll die a general +yet, if the Russians'll let you off a little longer, and you're not +wanted for the House of Peers."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, you haven't heard. There's trouble among your fine +relations. Lord Essendine has lost all his sons."</p> + +<p>"All?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; all. Hugo was killed, as you know; Anastasius died at Scutari; +and Lord Lydstone, two days later, was found dead in the streets of +Stamboul."</p> + +<p>"Dead? How? What did he die of, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"A stab in the heart. He was murdered."</p> + +<p>"And I—"</p> + +<p>He understood now the cause of the foul blow struck at him, and the +base attempt to get him also out of the way.</p> + +<p>"You are now next heir to the peerage, in spite of all they may say. +But you'll find my lord civil enough soon. He'll be wanting you to go +straight home."</p> + +<p>"And leave the army? Not while there's fighting to be done, Uncle +Barto. I may not be much good as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> I am, but I'll do all I can, trust +me. I ought to be getting on shore and back to the front."</p> + +<p>"My doctor will have a word to say to that. He won't let you be moved +till you're well and strong."</p> + +<p>But on the second day McKay, thanks to kindly care and plenty of +nourishment, was able to leave his cot, and on the third morning he +was determined to return to his duty.</p> + +<p>"I won't baulk you, Stanny," said his uncle; "good soldiers, like good +sailors, never turn their backs on their work. But mind, this ship is +your home whenever and wherever you like to come on board; and if you +want anything you have only to ask for it, d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>McKay promised readily to draw upon his uncle when needful, and then, +his horse being still at Balaclava, he once more got into the saddle +and rode up to camp.</p> + +<p>The journey prepared him a little for what he found. All the way from +Balaclava his horse struggled knee-deep in mud: a very quagmire of +black, sticky slush. Yet this was the great highway—the only road +between the base of supply and an army engaged eight miles distant in +an arduous siege. Along it the whole of the food, ammunition, and +material had to be carried on pony-back, or in a few ponderous carts +drawn by gaunt, over-worked teams, which too often left their wheels +fast-caught in the mire.</p> + +<p>At the front—it had been raining in torrents for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> hours—the mud was +thicker, blacker, and more tenacious. Tents stood in pools of water; +their occupants, harassed by trench duty, lay shivering within, +half-starved and wet.</p> + +<p>McKay made his way at once to the colonel and reported his return.</p> + +<p>"Oh! so you've thought fit to come back," said Colonel Blythe, rather +grumpily. Since war and sickness had decimated his battalion he looked +upon every absentee, from whatever cause, right or wrong, as a +recreant deserter.</p> + +<p>"I was with my general, sir," expostulated Stanislas.</p> + +<p>"The general has no need of an aide-de-camp now. <i>We</i> want every man +that can stand upright in his boots. I have given up the command of +the brigade myself so as to look the better after my men."</p> + +<p>McKay accepted the reproof without a murmur, and only said—</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I am here now, and ready to do whatever I may be called +upon. I feel my first duty is to my own colonel and my own corps."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that, young fellow?" said the colonel, thawing a little.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir."</p> + +<p>"Because they want to inveigle you away—on the staff. Lord Raglan has +sent to inquire for you."</p> + +<p>"I have no desire to go, sir," said McKay, simply; although his face +flushed red at the compliment implied by the Commander-in-Chief's +message.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It seems he was pleased with the way you rallied those Frenchmen, and +he has heard you are a good linguist, and he wants to put you on the +staff."</p> + +<p>"I had much rather stay with the regiment, sir," said McKay.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure? You must not stand in your own light. This is a +fine chance for you to get on in the service." The colonel's voice had +become very friendly.</p> + +<p>"I know where my true duty lies, sir; I owe everything to you and to +the regiment. I should not hesitate to refuse an appointment on the +general staff if it were offered me now." McKay did not add that his +future prospects were now materially changed, and that it was no +longer of supreme importance to him to rise in his profession.</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand, my boy," said Colonel Blythe, visibly touched at +McKay's disinterestedness. "You are proving your gratitude in a way I +shall never forget. But let us talk business. You know I want you as +adjutant."</p> + +<p>"I shall be only too proud to act, sir."</p> + +<p>"I must have a good staff about me. We are in great straits; the +regiment will go from bad to worse. There are barely 200 'duty' men +now, and it will soon be a mere skeleton, unless we can take good care +of the rest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said McKay, feeling constrained to say something.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are suffering—we all are, but the men most of all—from +exposure, cold, want of proper clothing, and, above all, from want of +proper food. This is what I wish to remedy. They are dying of +dysentery, fever, cholera—I don't know what."</p> + +<p>"The doctor, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Can do nothing. He has few drugs; but, as he says, that would hardly +matter if the men could have warmth and nourishment."</p> + +<p>"Something might be done, sir, with system; the quartermaster—"</p> + +<p>"You are right. Let us consult him. Hyde is still acting, and he has +already proved himself a shrewd, hard-headed old soldier."</p> + +<p>Quartermaster-sergeant Hyde—for he had accepted the grade, although +unwillingly—came and stood "at attention" before his superiors.</p> + +<p>"As to food, sir," he said, "the men might be provided with hot +coffee, and, I think, hot soup, on coming off duty. I am only doubtful +as to the sufficiency of fuel."</p> + +<p>"There is any quantity of drift-wood just now—wreckage—floating in +Balaclava Harbour," suggested McKay.</p> + +<p>"We must have it sir, somehow," said Hyde, eagerly. "But can we get it +up to the front?"</p> + +<p>"We'll lay an embargo on all the baggage-animals in camp. Take the +whole lot down to Balaclava, and lay hands on every scrap of timber."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As to clothing, sir, an uncle of mine has come up with a +heavily-laden ship—hutting-timbers mostly, but he may have some spare +blankets, sailors' pea-jackets, jerseys, and so forth."</p> + +<p>"And boots, long boots or short—all kinds will be acceptable. Get +anything and everything that is warm. I'll pay out of my own pocket +sooner than not have them. When can you start, Hyde?"</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, if that will suit Mr. McKay, and I can have the horses."</p> + +<p>The matter was speedily arranged, and in the early afternoon our hero +and Hyde were jogging back to Balaclava, at the head of a string of +animals led and ridden by a small selected fatigue-party of regimental +batmen and grooms.</p> + +<p>It was the first occasion on which the two friends had conversed +freely together for months.</p> + +<p>McKay had most to tell. He spoke first of the offer to go on the +headquarter-staff which he had refused. Then of the strange accidents +by which he had become heir presumptive to the earldom of Essendine. +Last of all, of the narrow escape he had of his life.</p> + +<p>Hyde pressed him on this point.</p> + +<p>"You fell overboard—lost your balance, eh? Entirely your own doing? +Mrs. Wilders did not help you at all?"</p> + +<p>"How on earth, Hyde, did you guess that? I never hinted at such a +thing."</p> + +<p>"I know her—do not look surprised—I know her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> and have done so +intimately for years. There is nothing she would stick at if she saw +her advantage therefrom. You were in her way; she sought to remove +you, as, no doubt, she, or some one acting for her, had removed Lord +Lydstone, and—and—for all I know, ever so many more."</p> + +<p>"Can she be such a fiendish wretch?"</p> + +<p>"She is a demon, Stanislas McKay. Beware how you cross her path. But +let her also take heed how she tries to injure you again. She will +have to do with me then."</p> + +<p>"Why, Hyde! what extraordinary language is this? What do you know of +Mrs. Wilders? What can you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Some day you shall hear everything, but not now. It is too long a +story. Besides, here we are at Balaclava. Do you know where your +uncle's ship lies?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>RED TAPE.</h3> + + +<p>"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as +McKay stepped on board the <i>Burlington Castle</i>. "I am right glad to +see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome +too. What brings you to Balaclava?"</p> + +<p>McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come.</p> + +<p>"Drift-wood—is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can +help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send +the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for +you, and load up your horses."</p> + +<p>Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply +of fuel, intending to return next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> morning to take up any other +supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this +subject that same evening.</p> + +<p>"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay +we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's +boots."</p> + +<p>"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are +being frozen to death."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought +up—<i>greggos</i>, I think they call them—what those Tartar chaps wear in +Bulgaria.'"</p> + +<p>"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store."</p> + +<p>"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning."</p> + +<p>"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat +officer, as you'll see."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of +long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of +professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave +to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the +narrow grooves in which he had been trained.</p> + +<p>The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable +chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so +he did nothing to it at all.</p> + +<p>When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> was being interviewed +by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown +rather serious.</p> + +<p>"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must +have the stoves."</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition +properly signed."</p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you +refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be +complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of +the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the +senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of +division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have +the stoves."</p> + +<p>"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a +week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying."</p> + +<p>"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule."</p> + +<p>"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious.</p> + +<p>"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark, +and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards.</p> + +<p>"I have come for six bags of coffee."</p> + +<p>"Where is your requisition?"</p> + +<p>The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with +printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate +calculations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took +him half-an-hour.</p> + +<p>"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly +filled in. But you shall have the coffee—if we can find it."</p> + +<p>Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant +rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at +last he produced five bags, saying—</p> + +<p>"You will have to do with this."</p> + +<p>"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are +we to roast it?"</p> + +<p>"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green +berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted +just before use."</p> + +<p>"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it," +said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away +grumbling, leaving the bags behind him.</p> + +<p>McKay followed him out of the store.</p> + +<p>"You won't take the coffee, then?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such +stuff."</p> + +<p>"May I have it?"</p> + +<p>"If you like. It's all one to me."</p> + +<p>"Give me the requisition, then."</p> + +<p>Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. +Dawber.</p> + +<p>"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> can give it to me; I +will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition."</p> + +<p>The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags +according to form.</p> + +<p>McKay next attacked him about the <i>greggos</i>. Despairing, after all he +had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a +stratagem.</p> + +<p>"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the <i>Burlington +Castle</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least +idea what's inside."</p> + +<p>"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"May I look at it? I come from the <i>Burlington Castle</i>, and the +captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing +the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters."</p> + +<p>"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's +signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until +the proper formalities have been observed."</p> + +<p>"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to +you for your suggestion."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help +of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where +he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +the <i>greggos</i> on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph.</p> + +<p>From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their +condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than +the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea.</p> + +<p>Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they +were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a +sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with +rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde.</p> + +<p>He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the +Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips +of sound brandy, brought straight from the <i>Burlington Castle</i>, freely +imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of +the Royal Picts.</p> + +<p>"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was +trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could +make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe."</p> + +<p>"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That +stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork. +There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>Old Hyde winked gravely.</p> + +<p>"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch +it."</p> + +<p>"You can trust me. Out with it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know +where to look for it. Anatole"—this was his French friend—"put me up +to it."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon +horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it +is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get."</p> + +<p>"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will +be as well, I think, to keep your secret."</p> + +<p>But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts +throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury +stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its +numbers in a marvellous way—it even returned more men for duty than +corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others +in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over +and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we +had a few more regiments like the Picts."</p> + +<p>"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of +ours—that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital +quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan.</p> + +<p>McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the +Commander-in-Chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I +have just had a letter, too, about you from England."</p> + +<p>"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished.</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less +than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on +the headquarter staff."</p> + +<p>McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan. +"We want him, and more of his stamp."</p> + +<p>"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but +I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him +so much now that everything is in good working order."</p> + +<p>McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by +saying—</p> + +<p>"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General +Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to +Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once."</p> + +<p>"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde.</p> + +<p>"He has refused it several times," added Blythe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the +service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan +rode off.</p> + +<p>Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached +to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely +examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief, +General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd +judge of character.</p> + +<p>"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the +conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian? +German? Russian?—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, Russian."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard, +Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here."</p> + +<p>McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at +headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the +stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to +possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands +upon their strength.</p> + +<p>"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General +Airey, coming out one morning to the room in which his +staff-assistants worked and waited for special instructions. There was +no one there but McKay, and he had that instant returned from +Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it +can't be helped; you must go again."</p> + +<p>"I am only too ready, sir."</p> + +<p>"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you."</p> + +<p>"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the +London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this +morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments +and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without +intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into +everything with his own eyes."</p> + +<p>"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow +his example," said McKay, as he hurried away.</p> + +<p>This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new +chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the +common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss +with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour.</p> + +<p>There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on +the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by +perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating +between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by +thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued +supreme. Roads, mere spongy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> sloughs of despond, were nearly +impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon +few would remain.</p> + +<p>To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance.</p> + +<p>"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey, +talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done +sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to +Constantinople, Italy—"</p> + +<p>"Spain," suggested McKay.</p> + +<p>"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?"</p> + +<p>"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses."</p> + +<p>"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the +quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the +subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send +you."</p> + +<p>This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to +be taken by Lord Raglan.</p> + +<p>Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the +Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward +baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>AGAIN ON THE ROCK.</h3> + + +<p>McKay travelled as far as Constantinople in one of the man-of-war +despatch-boats used for the postal service. There he changed into a +transport homeward bound, and proceeded on his voyage without delay.</p> + +<p>But half-an-hour at Constantinople was enough to gain tidings of the +<i>Arcadia</i> and her passengers.</p> + +<p>The yacht, he learnt, had left only a week or two before. It had +lingered a couple of months at the Golden Horn, during which time +General Wilders lay between life and death.</p> + +<p>Mortification at last set in, and then all hope was gone. The general +died, and was buried at Scutari, after which Mrs. Wilders, still +utilising the <i>Arcadia</i>, started for England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>The yacht, a fast sailer, made good progress, and was already at +anchor in Gibraltar Bay on the morning that McKay arrived.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go on board and tax her with her misdeeds?" McKay asked +himself. "No; she can wait. I have more pressing and more pleasant +business on hand."</p> + +<p>His first visit was to the Convent. "You shall have every assistance +from us," said the Governor, Sir Thomas Drummond. "But what do you +propose to do, and how can I help?"</p> + +<p>"My object, sir, is to collect all the animals I can in the shortest +possible time. I propose, first, to set the purchase going here—under +your auspices, if you agree—then visit Alicante, Valencia, Barcelona, +and ship off all I can secure."</p> + +<p>"An excellent plan. Well, you shall have my hearty co-operation. If +there is anything else—"</p> + +<p>An aide-de-camp came in at this moment and whispered a few words in +his general's ear.</p> + +<p>"What! on shore? Here in the Convent, too? Poor soul! of course we +will see her. Let some one tell Lady Drummond. Forgive me, Mr. McKay: +a lady has just called whom I am bound by every principle of courtesy, +consideration, and compassion to see at once. Perhaps you will return +later?"</p> + +<p>McKay bowed and passed out into the antechamber. On the threshold he +met Mrs. Wilders face to face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p><p>"You—!" she gasped out, but instantly checked the exclamation of +chagrin and dismay that rose to her lips.</p> + +<p>"You hardly expected to see me, perhaps; but I was miraculously +saved."</p> + +<p>McKay spoke slowly, and the delay gave Mrs. Wilders time to collect +herself.</p> + +<p>"I am most thankful. It has lifted a load off my mind. I feared you +were lost."</p> + +<p>"Yes; the sea seldom gives up its prey. But enough about myself. You +are going in to see the general, I think; do not let me detain you."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very pleased to see you on board the yacht."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Wilders; I am sure you will. But to me such a visit +would be very painful. My last recollections of the <i>Arcadia</i> are not +too agreeable."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. You were so devoted to my poor dear husband."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders would not acknowledge his meaning.</p> + +<p>"But I shall see you again before I leave, I trust."</p> + +<p>"My stay here is very short. I am only on a special mission, and I +must return to the Crimea without delay. But we shall certainly meet +again some day, Mrs. Wilders; you may rely on that."</p> + +<p>There was meaning, menace even, in this last speech, and it gave Mrs. +Wilders food for serious thought.</p> + +<p>McKay did not pause to say more. He was too eager to go elsewhere.</p> + +<p>His first visit, as in duty bound, had been to report<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> his arrival and +set on foot the business that had brought him. His second was to see +sweet Mariquita, the girl of his choice.</p> + +<p>They had exchanged several letters. His had been brief, hurried +accounts of his doings, assuring her of his safety after every action +and of his unalterable affection; hers were the artless outpourings of +a warm, passionate nature tortured by ever-present heartrending +anxiety for the man she loved best in the world. There had been no +time to warn her of his visit to Gibraltar, and his appearance was +entirely unexpected there.</p> + +<p>Things were much the same at the cigar-shop. +McKay walked boldly in and found La Zandunga, as +usual, behind the counter, but alone. She got up, and, not recognising +him, bowed obsequiously. Officers were rare visitors in Bombardier +Lane and McKay's staff-uniform inspired respect.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome, sir. In what can we serve you? Our tobacco is +greatly esteemed. We import our cigars—the finest—direct from La +Havanna; our cigarettes are made in the house."</p> + +<p>"You do not seem to remember me," said McKay, quietly. "I hope +Mariquita is well?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven protect me! It is the Sergeant—"</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, you mean."</p> + +<p>"An officer! already! You have been fortunate, sir." La Zandunga spoke +without cordiality and was evidently hesitating how to receive him. +"What brings you here?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I want to see Mariquita." The old crone stared at him with stony +disapproval. "I have but just arrived from the Crimea to buy horses +and mules for the army."</p> + +<p>"Many?" Her manner instantly changed. This was business for her +husband, who dealt much in horseflesh.</p> + +<p>"Thousands."</p> + +<p>"Won't you be seated, sir? Let me take your hat. Mariqui—ta!" she +cried, with remarkable volubility. The guest was clearly entitled to +be treated with honour.</p> + +<p>Mariquita entered hastily, expecting to be chidden, then paused shyly, +seeing who was there.</p> + +<p>"Shamefaced, come; don't you know this gentleman?" said her aunt, +encouragingly. "Entertain him, little one, while I fetch your uncle."</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" asked Mariquita, in amazement, as soon as she +could release herself from her lover's embrace. "You here, Stanislas: +my aunt approving! Am I mad or asleep?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, dearest. She sees a chance of profit out of me—that's all. +I will not baulk her. She deserves it for leaving us alone," and he +would have taken her again into his arms.</p> + +<p>"No, no! Enough, Stanislas!" said the sweet girl, blushing a rosy red. +"Sit there and be quiet. Tell me of yourself: why you are here. The +war, then, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> over? The Holy Saints be praised! How I hated that +war!"</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, love! It has been the making of me."</p> + +<p>"Nothing would compensate me for all that I have suffered these last +few months."</p> + +<p>"But I have gained my promotion and much more. I can offer you now a +far higher position. You will be a lady, a great lady, some day!"</p> + +<p>"It matters little, my Stanislas, so long as I am with you. I would +have been content to share your lot, however humble, anywhere."</p> + +<p>This was her simple, unquestioning faith. Her love filled all her +being. She belonged, heart and soul, to this man.</p> + +<p>"You will not leave me again, Stanislas?" she went on, with tender +insistence.</p> + +<p>"My sweet, I must go back. My duty is there, in the Crimea, with my +comrades—with the army of my Queen."</p> + +<p>"But if anything should happen to you—they may hurt you, kill you!"</p> + +<p>"Darling, there is no fear. Be brave."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Stanislas! Suppose I should lose you—life would be an utter +blank after that; I have no one in the world but you."</p> + +<p>McKay was greatly touched by this proof of her deep-seated affection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is only for a little while longer, my sweetest girl! Be patient +and hopeful to the end. By-and-by we shall come together, never to +part again."</p> + +<p>"I am weak, foolish—too loving, perhaps. But, Stanislas, I cannot +bear to part with you. Let me go too!"</p> + +<p>"Dearest, that is quite impossible."</p> + +<p>"If I was only near you—"</p> + +<p>"What! you—a tender woman—in that wild land, amidst all its dangers +and trials!"</p> + +<p>"I should fear nothing if it was for you, Stanislas. I would give you +my life; I would lay it down freely for you."</p> + +<p>He could find no words to thank her for such un-selfish devotion, but +he pressed her to his heart again and again.</p> + +<p>He still held Mariquita's hand, and was soothing her with many +endearing expressions, when La Zandunga, accompanied by Tio Pedro, +returned.</p> + +<p>The lovers flew apart, abashed at being surprised.</p> + +<p>McKay expected nothing less than coarse abuse, but no honey could be +sweeter than the old people's accents and words.</p> + +<p>"Do not mind us," said La Zandunga, coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"A pair of turtle-doves," said Tio Pedro: "bashful and timid as +birds."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, good sir," went on the old woman: "you can see Mariquita +again. Let us talk first of this business."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You want horses, I believe?" said Tio Pedro. "I can get you any +number. What price will you pay?"</p> + +<p>"What they are worth."</p> + +<p>"And a little more, which we will divide between ourselves," added the +old man, with a knowing wink.</p> + +<p>"That's not the way with British officers," said McKay, sternly.</p> + +<p>"It's the way with ours in Spain."</p> + +<p>"That may be. However, I will take five hundred from you, at twenty +pounds apiece, if they are delivered within three days."</p> + +<p>Tio Pedro got up and walked towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I go to fetch them. I am the key of Southern Spain. When I will, +every stable-door shall be unlocked. You shall have the horses, and +more, if you choose, in the stated time."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Señor Pedro; I want something else from you, and you, +señora."</p> + +<p>They looked at him with well-disguised astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I have long loved your niece; will you give her to me in marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! sir, it is too great an honour for our house. We—she—are all +unworthy. But if you insist, and are prepared to take her as she is, +dowerless, uncultured, with only her natural gifts, she is yours."</p> + +<p>"I want only herself. I have sufficient means for both. They may still +be modest, but I have good prospects—the very best. Some day I shall +inherit a great fortune."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! sir, you overwhelm us. We can make you no sufficient return for +your great condescension. Only command us, and we will faithfully +execute your wishes."</p> + +<p>"My only desire is that you should treat Mariquita well. Take every +care of her until I can return. It will not be long, I trust, before +this war is ended, and then I will make her my wife."</p> + +<p>McKay's last words were overheard by a man who at this moment entered +the shop.</p> + +<p>It was Benito, who advanced with flaming face and fierce, angry eyes +towards the group at the counter.</p> + +<p>"What is this—and your promise to me? The girl is mine; you gave her +to me months ago."</p> + +<p>"Our promise was conditional on Mariquita's consent," said La +Zandunga, with clever evasion. "That you have never been able to +obtain."</p> + +<p>"I should have secured it in time but for this scoundrel who has come +between me and my affianced bride. He'll have to settle with me, +whoever he is," and so saying, Benito came closer to McKay, whom +hitherto he had not recognised. "The Englishman!" he cried, starting +back.</p> + +<p>"Very much at your service," replied McKay, shortly. "I am not afraid +of your threats. I think I can hold my own with you as I have done +before."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and +malice, he rushed from the place.</p> + +<p>When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot +Shell Ramp, she found him in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> mood fit for any desperate deed. But, +with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked +him for his help.</p> + +<p>"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said. +"And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within +reach of the English law."</p> + +<p>"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently +return to the Crimea."</p> + +<p>"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed +with a wild hope of revenge.</p> + +<p>"McKay—Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts."</p> + +<p>It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark +eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast.</p> + +<p>"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of +hate.</p> + +<p>"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito.</p> + +<p>"Do so, and claim your own reward."</p> + +<p>"But how? When? Where?"</p> + +<p>"That is for you to settle. Watch him, stick to him, dog his +footsteps, follow him wherever he goes. Some day he must give you a +chance."</p> + +<p>"Leave it to me. The moment will come when I shall sheathe my knife in +his heart."</p> + +<p>"I think I can trust you. Only do it well, and never let me see him +again."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>MR. HOBSON CALLS.</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Arcadia</i> went direct from Gibraltar to Southampton, where Mrs. +Wilders left it and returned to London.</p> + +<p>It was necessary for her to review her position and look things in the +face. Her circumstances were undoubtedly straitened since her +husband's death. She had her pension as the widow of a general +officer—but this was a mere pittance at best—and the interest of the +small private fortune settled, at the time of the marriage, on her and +her children, should she have any. Her income from both these sources +amounted to barely £300 a year—far too meagre an amount according to +her present ideas, burdened as she was, moreover, with the care and +education of a child.</p> + +<p>But how was she to increase it? The reversion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> the great Wilders +estates still eluded her grasp; they might never come her way, +whatever lengths she might go to secure them.</p> + +<p>"Lord Essendine ought to do something for me," she told herself, as +soon as she was settled in town. "It was not fair to keep the +existence of this hateful young man secret; my boy suffers by it, poor +little orphan! Surely I can make a good case of this to his lordship; +and, after all, the child comes next."</p> + +<p>She wrote accordingly to the family lawyers, Messrs. Burt and Benham, +asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior +partner, Mr. Burt.</p> + +<p>He was blandly sympathetic, but distant.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I +presume, a business visit, may I ask—"</p> + +<p>"I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine."</p> + +<p>"On what grounds?"</p> + +<p>"My infant son is the next heir."</p> + +<p>"Nay; surely you know—there is another before him?"</p> + +<p>"Before my boy! Who? What can you mean? Impossible! I have never heard +a syllable of this. I shall contest it."</p> + +<p>It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her +position.</p> + +<p>"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are +perfectly sound."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see +Lord Essendine myself."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in +Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed +greatly under recent afflictions."</p> + +<p>"He must and shall know how I am situated."</p> + +<p>"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no +right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will +meet you in a liberal spirit."</p> + +<p>So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to +Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a +handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a +house and make herself a home.</p> + +<p>Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not +only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort +and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way—a +small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing +from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she +kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook.</p> + +<p>There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or +Benito's Spanish knife might yet rid her of the one obstacle that +still stood between her son and the inheritance of great wealth.</p> + +<p>It was with a distinct annoyance, then, while leading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> this tranquil +but luxurious life, that her man-servant brought in a card one +afternoon, bearing the name of Hobson, and said, "The gentleman hopes +you will be able to see him at once."</p> + +<p>"How did you find me out?" she asked, angrily, when her visitor—the +same Mr. Hobson we saw at Constantinople—was introduced.</p> + +<p>"Ah! How do I find everything and everybody out? That's my affair—my +business, I may say."</p> + +<p>"And what do you want?" went on Mrs. Wilders, in the same key.</p> + +<p>"First of all, to condole with you on the loss of so many near +relatives. I missed you at Constantinople after Lord Lydstone's sad +and dreadful death."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders shuddered in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"You suffer remorse?" he said, mockingly.</p> + +<p>She made a gesture of protest.</p> + +<p>"Sorrow, I should say. Yet you benefited greatly."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, not at all. Another life still intervenes."</p> + +<p>"Another! and you knew nothing of it! Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"It is too true. I am as far as ever from the accomplishment of my +hopes."</p> + +<p>"Who is this unknown interloper?"</p> + +<p>"An English officer, at present serving in the Crimea. His name is +McKay: Stanislas McKay."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The name is familiar; the Christian name is suggestive. Do you know +whether he is of Polish origin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard so. His father was once in the Russian army."</p> + +<p>"It is the same, then. There can be no doubt of it. And you would like +to see him out of the way? I might help you, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"How? I have my own agents at work."</p> + +<p>"He is in the Crimea, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, or will be within a few weeks."</p> + +<p>"If we could inveigle him into the Russian lines he would be shot or +hanged as a traitor. He is a Russian subject in arms against his +Czar."</p> + +<p>"It would be difficult, I fear, to get him into Russian hands."</p> + +<p>"Some stratagem might accomplish it. You have agents at work, you say, +in the Crimea?"</p> + +<p>"They can go there."</p> + +<p>"Put me in communication with them, and leave it all to me."</p> + +<p>"You will place me under another onerous obligation, Hippolyte."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks. I am about to ask a favour in return. You can help me, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Command me."</p> + +<p>"You have many acquaintances in London; your late husband's friends +were military men. I want a little information at times."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you call things by their right names? You would like to +employ me as a spy—is that what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you like to put it so, yes. I suppose I can count upon you?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry not to be able to oblige you, but I am afraid I must say +no."</p> + +<p>"You are growing squeamish, Cyprienne, in your old age. To think of +your having scruples!"</p> + +<p>"I despise your sneers. It does not suit me to do what you wish, +that's all; it would be unsafe."</p> + +<p>"What have you to lose?"</p> + +<p>"All this." She waved her hand round the prettily-furnished room. +"Lord Essendine has been very kind to me, and if there were any +suspicions—if any rumour got about that I was employed by or for +you—he would certainly withdraw the income he gives me."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson laughed quietly.</p> + +<p>"You have given yourself away, as they say in America; you have put +yourself in my hands, Cyprienne. I insist now upon your doing what I +wish."</p> + +<p>"You shall not browbeat me!" She rose from her seat, with indignation +in her face. "Leave me, or I will call the servants."</p> + +<p>"I shall go straight to Lord Essendine, then, and tell him all I know. +How would you like that? How about your allowance, and the protection +of that great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> family? Don't you know, foolish woman, that you are +absolutely and completely in my power?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders made no reply. Her face was a study; many emotions +struggled for mastery—fear, sullen obstinacy, and impotent rage.</p> + +<p>"Come, be more reasonable," went on Mr. Hobson, "Our partnership is of +long standing; it cannot easily be dissolved; certainly not now. After +all, what is it I ask you? A few questions put adroitly to the right +person, an occasional visit to some official friend; to keep your eyes +and ears open, and be always on the watch. Surely, there is no great +trouble, no danger, in that?"</p> + +<p>"If you will have it so, I suppose I must agree. But where and how am +I to begin?"</p> + +<p>"I leave it all to you, my dear madam; you are much more at home in +this great town than I am. I can only indicate the lines on which you +should proceed."</p> + +<p>"How shall I communicate with you?"</p> + +<p>"Only by word of mouth. When you have anything to say, write to +me—there is my address"—he pointed to his card—"Duke Street, St. +James's. Write just three lines, asking me to lunch, nothing more; I +shall understand."</p> + +<p>"And about this hated McKay?"</p> + +<p>"Let me know when he returns to the Crimea. We shall be able to hit +upon a plan then. But it will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> require some thought, and a reckless, +unscrupulous tool."</p> + +<p>"I know the very man. He is devoted to my interests, and a bitter +enemy of McKay's."</p> + +<p>"We shall succeed then, never fear," and with these words Mr. Hobson +took his leave.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>WAR TO THE KNIFE.</h3> + + +<p>Since we left him at Gibraltar McKay had led a busy life. The "Horse +Purchase" was in full swing upon the north front, where, in a short +space of time, many hundreds of animals were picketed ready for +shipment to the East. Having set this part of his enterprise on foot, +he had proceeded to the Spanish ports on the Eastern coast and +repeated the process.</p> + +<p>Alicante was the great centre of his operations on this side, and +there, by means of dealers and contractors, he speedily collected a +large supply of mules. They were kept in the bull-ring and the grounds +adjoining, a little way out of the town. A number of native muleteers +were engaged to look after them, and McKay succeeded in giving the +whole body of men and mules some sort of military organisation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were a rough lot, these local muleteers, the scum and riff-raff +of Valencia—black-muzzled, dark-skinned mongrels, half Moors, half +Spaniards, lawless, turbulent, and quarrelsome.</p> + +<p>Fights were frequent amongst them—sanguinary struggles, in which the +murderous native knife played a prominent part, and both antagonists +were often stabbed and slashed to death.</p> + +<p>The local authorities looked askance at this gathering of rascaldom, +and gave them a wide berth. But McKay went fearlessly amongst his +reprobate followers, administering a rough-and-ready sort of +discipline, and keeping them as far as possible within bounds.</p> + +<p>It was his custom to pay a nightly visit to his charge. He went +through the lines, saw that the night-patrols were on the alert, and +the rest of the men quiet.</p> + +<p>Repeatedly the overseers next him in authority cautioned him against +venturing out of the town so late.</p> + +<p>"There are evil people about," said his head man, a worthy "scorpion," +whom he had brought with him from Gibraltar. "Your worship would do +better to stay at home at night."</p> + +<p>"What have I to fear?" replied McKay, stoutly. "I have my revolver; I +can take care of myself."</p> + +<p>They evidently did not think so, for it became the rule for a couple +of them to escort him back to town without his knowledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>They followed at a little distance behind him, carrying lanterns, and +keeping him always in sight.</p> + +<p>One night McKay discovered their kind intentions, and civilly, but +firmly, put an end to the practice.</p> + +<p>Next night he was attacked on his way back to the hotel. A man rushed +out on him from a dark corner, and made a blow at his breast with a +knife. It missed him, although his coat was cut through.</p> + +<p>A short encounter followed. McKay was stronger than his assailant, +whom he speedily disarmed; but he was not so active. The fellow +managed to slip through his fingers and run; all that McKay could do +was to send three shots after him, fired quickly from his revolver, +and without good aim.</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel! he has got clear away," said McKay, as he put up his +weapon. "Who was it, I wonder? Not one of my own men; and yet I seemed +to know him. If I did not think he was still at Gibraltar, I should +say it was that miscreant Benito. I shall have to get him hanged, or +he will do for me one of these days."</p> + +<p>The pistol-shots attracted no particular attention in this deserted, +dead-alive Spanish town, and McKay got back to his hotel without +challenge or inquiry.</p> + +<p>A day or two later, as the organisation of his mule-train was now +complete, and transports were already arriving to embark their +four-footed freight, he returned to Gibraltar, meaning to go on to the +Crimea without delay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course he went to Bombardier Lane, where he was received by the old +people like a favourite son.</p> + +<p>Mariquita, blushing and diffident, was scarcely able to realise that +her Stanislas was now at liberty to make love to her, openly and +without question.</p> + +<p>The time, however, for their tender intercourse was all too short. +McKay expected hourly the steamer that was to take him eastward, and +his heart ached at the prospect of parting. As for Mariquita, she had +alternated between blithe joyousness and plaintive, despairing sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I shall never see you again, Stanislas," she went on repeating, when +the last mood was on her.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I have come out harmless so far; I shall do so to the end. +The Russians can't hurt me."</p> + +<p>"But you have other enemies, dearest—pitiless, vindictive, and +implacable."</p> + +<p>"Whom do you mean? Benito?"</p> + +<p>"You know without my telling you. He has shown his enmity, then? How? +Oh, Stanislas! be on your guard against that black-hearted man."</p> + +<p>Should he tell her of his suspicions that it was Benito who had +attacked him at Alicante? No; it would only aggravate her fears. But +he tried, nevertheless, to verify these suspicions without letting +Mariquita know the secret.</p> + +<p>"Is Benito at Gibraltar?" he asked, quietly,</p> + +<p>"We have not seen him for weeks. Since—since—you know, my +life!—since you came to our house he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> has kept away. But I heard my +uncle say that he had left the Rock to buy mules. He was going, I +believe, to Alicante. Did you see him there?"</p> + +<p>"I saw many ruffians of his stamp, but I did not distinguish our +friend."</p> + +<p>"You must never let him come near you, Stanislas. Remember what I say. +He is treacherous, truculent—a very fiend."</p> + +<p>"If he comes across my path I will put my heel upon him like a toad. +But let us talk of something more pleasant—of you—of our future +life. Shall you like to live in England, and never see the sun?"</p> + +<p>"You will be my sun, Stanislas."</p> + +<p>"Then you will have to learn English."</p> + +<p>"It will be easy enough if you teach me."</p> + +<p>"Some day you will be a great lady—one of the greatest in London, +perhaps. You'll have a grand house, carriages, magnificent dresses, +diamonds—"</p> + +<p>"I only want you," she said, as she nestled closer to his side.</p> + +<p>It was sad that stern duty should put an end to these pretty love +passages, but the moment of separation arrived inexorably, and, after +a sad, passionate leave-taking, McKay tore himself away.</p> + +<p>Mariquita for days was inconsolable. She brooded constantly in a +corner, weeping silent tears, utterly absorbed in her grief. They +considerately left her alone. Since she had become the affianced wife +of a man of McKay's rank and position, both the termagant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> aunt and +cross-grained uncle had treated her with unbounded respect. They would +not allow her to be vexed or worried by any one, least of all by +Benito, who, as soon as the English officer was out of the way, again +began to haunt the house.</p> + +<p>It was about her that they were having high words a day or two after +McKay's departure.</p> + +<p>Mariquita overheard them.</p> + +<p>"You shall not see her, I tell you!" said La Zandunga, with shrill +determination. "The sweet child is sad and sick at heart."</p> + +<p>"She has broken mine, as you have your word to me. I shall never be +happy more."</p> + +<p>He spoke as though he was in great distress, and his grief, if false, +was certainly well feigned.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" said old Pedro. "No man ever died of unrequited love. There are +as good fish in the sea."</p> + +<p>"I wanted this one," said Benito, in deep dejection. "No matter; I am +going away. There is a fine chance yonder, and I may perhaps forget +her."</p> + +<p>"Where, then?" asked the old woman.</p> + +<p>"In the Crimea. I start to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Go, in Heaven's keeping," said Tio Pedro.</p> + +<p>"And never let us see you again," added La Zandunga, whose sentiments +towards Benito had undergone an entire change in the last few months.</p> + +<p>"May I not see her to say good-bye?"</p> + +<p>"No, you would only agitate her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do not be so cruel. I implore you to let me speak to her."</p> + +<p>"Be off!" said the old woman, angrily. "You are importunate and +ill-bred."</p> + +<p>"I will not go; I will see her first."</p> + +<p>"Put him out, Pedro; by force, if he will not go quietly."</p> + +<p>Tio Pedro rose rather reluctantly and advanced towards Benito.</p> + +<p>"Hands off!" cried the young man, savagely striking at Pedro.</p> + +<p>"What! You dare!" said the other furiously. "I am not too old to deal +with such a stripling. Begone, I say, quicker than that!" and Tio +Pedro pushed Benito towards the door.</p> + +<p>There was a struggle, but it was of short duration. Within a few +seconds Benito was ejected into the street.</p> + +<p>By-and-by, when the coast was clear, and Mariquita felt safe from the +intrusion of the man she loathed, she came out into the shop.</p> + +<p>By this time the place was quiet. Tio Pedro had gone off to a +neighbouring wine-shop to exaggerate his recent prowess, and La +Zandunga sat alone behind the counter.</p> + +<p>"Where is Benito? Has he gone?" asked Mariquita, nervously.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Did he frighten my sweet bird?" said her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> aunt, soothing her. +"He is an indecent, ill-mannered rogue, and we shall be well rid of +him."</p> + +<p>"Well rid of him? He really leaves us, then? For the Crimea?"</p> + +<p>"You have guessed it. Yes. He thinks there is a chance of finding +fortune there."</p> + +<p>Was that his only reason? Mariquita put her hand upon her heart, which +had almost ceased beating. She was sick with apprehension. Did not +Benito's departure forebode evil for her lover?</p> + +<p>Just then her eye fell upon a piece of crumpled paper lying on the +floor—part of a letter, it seemed. Almost mechanically—with no +special intention at least—she stooped to pick it up.</p> + +<p>"What have you got there?" asked her aunt.</p> + +<p>"A letter."</p> + +<p>"It must be Benito's; he probably dropped it in the scuffle. Do you +know that he dared to raise his hand against my worthy husband?"</p> + +<p>"If it is Benito's I have no desire to touch it," said Mariquita, +disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Throw it into the yard, then," said her aunt.</p> + +<p>Mariquita accordingly went to the back door and out into the garden, +round which she walked listlessly, once or twice, forgetting what she +held in her hand.</p> + +<p>Then she looked at it in an aimless, absent way, and began to read +some of the words.</p> + +<p>The letter was in Spanish, written in a female hand. It said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Wait till he goes back to the Crimea, then follow him instantly. On +arrival at Balaclava go at once to the Maltese baker whose shop is at +the head of the bay near Kadikoi; he will give you employment. This +will explain and cover your presence in the camp. You will visit all +parts of it, selling bread. You must hang about the English +headquarters; he is most often there; and remember that he is the sole +object of your errand. You must know at all times where he is and what +he is doing.</p> + +<p>"Further instructions will reach you through the baker in the Crimea. +Obey them to the letter, and you will receive a double reward. Money +to any amount shall be yours, and you will have had your revenge upon +the man who has robbed you of your love."</p> + +<p>After reading this carefully there was no doubt in Mariquita's mind +that Benito's mission was directed against McKay. Her first thought +was the urgency of the danger that threatened her lover; the second, +an eager desire to put him on his guard. But how was she to do this? +By letter? There was no time. By a trusty messenger? But whom could +she send? There was no one from whom she could seek advice or +assistance save the old people; and in her heart, notwithstanding +their present extreme civility, she mistrusted both.</p> + +<p>She was sorely puzzled what to do, but yet resolved to save her lover +somehow, even at the risk of her own life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>AT MOTHER CHARCOAL'S.</h3> + + +<p>With the return of spring brighter days dawned for the British troops +in the East. The worst troubles were ended; supplies of all kinds were +now flowing in in great profusion; the means of transport to the front +were enormously increased and improved, not only by the opportune +arrival of great drafts of baggage-animals, through the exertions of +men like McKay, but by the construction of a railway for goods +traffic.</p> + +<p>The chief difficulty, however, still remained unsolved: the siege +still slowly dragged itself along. Sebastopol refused to fall, and, +with its gallant garrison under the indomitable Todleben, still +obstinately kept the Allies at bay.</p> + +<p>The besiegers' lines were, however, slowly but surely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> tightening +round the place. Many miles of trenches were now open and innumerable +batteries had been built and armed. The struggle daily became closer +and more strenuously maintained. The opposing forces—besiegers and +besieged—were in constant collision. Sharpshooters interchanged shots +all day long, and guns answered guns. The Russians made frequent +sorties by night; and every day there were hand-to-hand conflicts for +the possession of rifle-pits and the more advanced posts.</p> + +<p>It was a dreary, disappointing season. This siege seemed interminable. +No one saw the end of it. All alike—from generals to common men—were +despondent and dispirited with the weariness of hope long deferred.</p> + +<p>Why did we not attack the place? This was the burden of every song. +The attack—always imminent, always postponed—was the one topic of +conversation wherever soldiers met and talked together.</p> + +<p>It was debated and discussed seriously, and from every point of view, +in the council-chamber, where Lord Raglan met his colleagues and the +great officers of the staff. It was the gossip round the camp-fire, +where men beguiled the weary hours of trench-duty. It was tossed from +mouth to mouth by thoughtless subalterns as they galloped on their +Tartar ponies for a day's outing to Kamiesch, when released from +sterner toil.</p> + +<p>The attack! To-morrow—next day—some day—never! So it went on, with +a wearisome, monotonous sameness that was perfectly exasperating.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I give you Good-day, my friend. Well, you see the summer is now close +at hand, and still we are on the wrong side of the wall."</p> + +<p>The speaker was M. Anatole Belhomme, Hyde's French friend. They had +met outside a drinking-booth in the hut-town of Kadikoi. Hyde was +riding a pony; the other was on foot.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my gallant Gaul, is it you?" replied Hyde. "Let's go in and +jingle glasses together, hey?"</p> + +<p>"A little tear of cognac would not be amiss," replied the Frenchman, +whose excessive fondness for the fermented liquor of his country was +the chief cause of his finding himself a sergeant in the Voltigeurs +instead of chief cook to a Parisian restaurant or an English duke.</p> + +<p>Hyde hitched up his pony at the door, and they entered the booth, +seating themselves at one of the tables, if the two inverted +wine-boxes used for the purpose deserved the name. There were other +soldiers about, mostly British: a couple of sergeants of the Guards, +an assistant of the provost-marshal, some of the new Land Transport +Corps, and one or two Sardinians, in their picturesque green tunics +and cocked hats with great plumes of black feathers.</p> + +<p>The demand for drink was incessant and kept the attendants busy. There +were only two of them: the proprietress, a dark-skinned lady, +familiarly termed Mother Charcoal, and a mite of a boy whom the +English customers called the "imp" and the French <i>polisson</i> (rogue).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mother Charcoal was a stout but comely negress, hailing originally +from Jamaica, who had come to Constantinople as stewardess in one of +the transport-ships. Being of an enterprising nature, she had hastened +to the seat of war and sunk all her ready-money in opening a canteen. +She was soon very popular with the allied troops of every nationality +and did a roaring trade.</p> + +<p>"Some brandy—your best, my black Venus!" shouted Hyde.</p> + +<p>"Who you call names? Me no Venus."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Charcoal, then; that name suits your colour."</p> + +<p>"What colour? You call me coloured? I no common nigger, let me tell +you, sah; I a Georgetown lady. Me wash for officers' wives and give +dignity-balls in my own home. Black Venus! Charcoal! You call me my +right name. Sophimisby Cleopatra Plantagenet Sprotts: that my right +name."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. S.C.P.S., I can't get my tongue round them all; fetch the +brandy or send it. We will talk about your pedigree and Christian +names some other time."</p> + +<p>This chaffing colloquy had raised a general laugh and put Hyde on good +terms with the company.</p> + +<p>"What news from the front, sergeant?" asked one of the Land Transport +Corps, a new comer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much on our side, except that they say there will be a new +bombardment in a few days. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> the French, were pretty busy last +night, to judge from the firing."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps our friend here can tell you" and he turned to Anatole, +asking the question in French.</p> + +<p>"A glorious affair, truly!" replied the Frenchman, delighted to have +an opportunity of launching out.</p> + +<p>"I was there—I, who speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Tell us about it," said Hyde; "I will interpret it to these +gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"The Russians, you must understand, have been forming ambuscades in +front of our bastion Du Mât, which have given us infinite trouble. +Last night we attacked them in three columns, 10,000 strong, and drove +them out."</p> + +<p>"Well done!"</p> + +<p>"It was splendidly done!" went on Anatole, bombastically. "Three times +the enemy tried to retake their ambuscades; three times we beat them +back at the point of the bayonet, so!"</p> + +<p>And the excitable Frenchman jumped from his seat and went through the +pantomime of charging with the bayonet.</p> + +<p>"You lost many men?"</p> + +<p>"Thousands. What matter? we have many more to come. The Imperial Guard +has landed, and the reserve, are at Constantinople."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and there are the 'Sardines,'" said another pointing to the new +uniform.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Plenty of new arrivals. M. Soyer, the great cook, landed yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What on earth brings him?"</p> + +<p>"He is going to teach the troops to make omelettes and biscuit-soup."</p> + +<p>"We were ahead of him in that, I think," said Hyde, winking at +Anatole.</p> + +<p>"He is with Miss Nightingale, you know, who has come out as head +nurse."</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless her!"</p> + +<p>"Well, for all the new arrivals, we don't get on very fast with the +siege."</p> + +<p>"Why don't they go into the place, without all this shilly-shallying?" +cried an impetuous Briton. "We'd take the place—we, the rank and +file—if the generals only would let us do the work alone."</p> + +<p>"They are a poor lot, the generals, I say."</p> + +<p>"Halt, there! not a word against Lord Raglan," cried Hyde.</p> + +<p>"He is so slow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he is uncommon sure. Have you ever seen him in action? I +have. He knows how to command: so quiet and self-possessed. Such a +different man from the French generals, who always shout and swear and +make such a confounded row. What do you think of your generals, +Anatole?"</p> + +<p>"Canrobert is an imbecile; he never knows his own mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shan't be troubled with him much longer,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> said a fresh +arrival. "Canrobert has just resigned the chief command."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" said Anatole, when the news was interpreted to him.</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly true, I assure you," replied the last speaker. "I +have just come from the English headquarters, and saw the new French +commander-in-chief there. Palliser, I think they call him."</p> + +<p>"Pélissier," said the French sergeant, correcting him. "That is good +news. A rare old dog of war that. We shan't wait long to attack if he +has the ordering."</p> + +<p>"They say the Russian generals have changed lately. Gortschakoff has +succeeded Mentschikoff."</p> + +<p>"Confound those koffs! They are worse than a cold in the head."</p> + +<p>"And just as difficult to get rid of. I'd like to wring their necks, +and every Russian's at Sebastopol."</p> + +<p>"Mentschikoff could not have been a bad fellow, anyway."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, one of our officers who was taken prisoner at Inkerman has just +come back to camp. I heard him say that while he was in Sebastopol he +got a letter from his young woman at home. She said she hoped he would +take Mentschikoff prisoner, and send her home a button off his coat."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"The letter was read by the Russian authorities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> before they gave it +him, and some one told the general what the English girl had said."</p> + +<p>"He got mad, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. He sent on the letter to its destination, with a note of +his own, presenting his compliments, and regrets that he could not +allow himself to be taken prisoner, but saying that he had much +pleasure in inclosing the button, for transmission to England."</p> + +<p>"A regular old brick, and no mistake! We'll drink his health."</p> + +<p>It was drunk with full honours, after which Hyde, finding the party +inclined to be rather too noisy, got up to go.</p> + +<p>"Here!" he cried out, "some of you. What have I got to pay? Hurry up, +my dusky duchess; I want to be off. Come, don't keep me waiting all +day," and he struck the table impatiently with his riding-whip.</p> + +<p>Mother Charcoal's assistant, "the imp," ran up.</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>"One dollar: four shilling," said the lad, in broken English.</p> + +<p>"There's your money!" cried Hyde, throwing it down, "and a 'bob' for +yourself. Stop!" he added. "Who and what are you? I have seen you +before."</p> + +<p>The lad, a mere boy, frail-looking and slightly built, but with a +handsome, rather effeminate-looking face, tried to slink away.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?" went on Hyde.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pongo," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"That's no real name. Smacks of the West Coast of Africa. Who gave it +you?"</p> + +<p>"Mother Charcoal."</p> + +<p>"What's your country? What language do you talk?"</p> + +<p>"English."</p> + +<p>"Monstrous little of that, my boy. What's your native lingo, I mean? +Greek, Turkish, Italian, Coptic—what?"</p> + +<p>"Spanish," the boy confessed, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Hyde looked at him very intently for a few seconds; then, without +further remark, walked out with his French friend.</p> + +<p>But he did not do more than say good-bye outside the shanty; and, +leaving his horse still hitched up near the door, he presently +re-entered the canteen.</p> + +<p>The place had emptied considerably, and he was able to take his seat +again in a corner without attracting much attention. For half-an-half +or more he watched this boy, who seemed to interest him so much.</p> + +<p>"There's not a doubt of it. I must know what it means," and he +beckoned the "imp" towards him.</p> + +<p>"How did you get to the Crimea?" he asked, abruptly, speaking in +excellent Spanish, when the lad, shyly and most reluctantly, came up +to him. "What brings you here? I must and will know. It is very wrong. +This is no place for you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I came to save him; he is in pressing danger," said the boy, whose +large eyes were now filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Does he know you are in the Crimea?"</p> + +<p>"I have been unable to find him. I lost all my money; it was stolen +from me directly I landed, and, if I had not found this place with the +black woman, I should have starved."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! Alone and unprotected in this terrible place. It was +sheer madness your coming."</p> + +<p>"But I could tell him in no other way."</p> + +<p>"Tell him what?"</p> + +<p>"He has two bitter and implacable enemies, who are sworn to take his +life."</p> + +<p>Hyde shook his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"It is true, as Heaven is my witness—perfectly true. But read this if +you doubt me," and the boy, who was no other than Mariquita in +disguise, produced the scrap of paper she had picked up in the shop in +Bombardier Lane.</p> + +<p>"I did not doubt your words. I was thinking of those enemies—one of +them, at least—and wondering why she is permitted to live."</p> + +<p>He took the letter, and read it slowly.</p> + +<p>"Her handwriting! I was sure of it. To whom was this addressed?"</p> + +<p>"Benito Villegas. Perhaps you know him—he is a native of the Rock."</p> + +<p>"I remember him years ago. And has he carried out these instructions? +Is he here?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I cannot make out. I have looked for him, but have been unable to +find him."</p> + +<p>"Not at the address stated here? You have been to it?"</p> + +<p>"Several times, but have never seen him."</p> + +<p>"He is probably in some disguise; that would suit his purpose best. We +will hunt him up, never fear. But Stanislas must first be warned."</p> + +<p>"You will go to him—at once?"</p> + +<p>"This very day. And you—won't you come too?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I cannot." Mariquita blushed crimson. "He would chide me. It +is wrong, I know; I have no right to be here, but he was in such +danger. I risked everything: his displeasure, my life, my good name."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hyde, thoughtfully; "this is no place for you; it is a +pity you came to it. Still, we should not have known but for you; as +it is, you had better stay here."</p> + +<p>"With Mother Charcoal?"</p> + +<p>"Just so. She is a worthy old soul, and can be trusted. It will be +best, I think, to tell her the exact state of the case. Leave that to +me."</p> + +<p>"You will not delay in warning Stanislas?" said Mariquita, placing her +hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"No; I will go directly after I have spoken to our black friend. Be +easy in your mind, little woman, or Señor Pongo, or whatever you like +to be called, and expect to see me again, and perhaps some one else +you know, within a day or two from now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fate, however, decreed that Hyde should be unavoidably delayed in his +errand of warning.</p> + +<p>On leaving Mother Charcoal's shanty the second time, he found that his +horse had disappeared. It had been hitched up to a hook near the +doorway, in company with several others, and all were now gone.</p> + +<p>"Some mistake? Scarcely that. One of those rascally sailor thieves, +rather; not a four-footed beast is safe from them. What a nuisance it +is! I suppose I must walk back to camp."</p> + +<p>What chafed Hyde most was the delay in getting to headquarters. He had +already made up his mind to find McKay as soon as he could, and tell +him exactly what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"He will, of course, think first of Mariquita; but that matter can be +easily settled. We will send her on board one of the hospital-ships, +where she will be with nurses of her own sex. What is really urgent is +that McKay should look to himself. We must manage, through his +interest and authority, to make a thorough search for this villain +Benito, and get him expelled from the Crimea. That would make McKay +safe, if only for a time, although I suppose Cyprienne would soon +devise some new and more diabolical scheme. If I could only get on a +little faster! It is most annoying about the horse. I will go straight +to headquarters on foot, taking the camp of the Naval Brigade on my +way."</p> + +<p>There was wisdom in this last resolution. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> sailors' camp was the +Crimean pound. All animals lost or strayed, or, more exactly, stolen, +if the truth is to be told, found their way to it. Jack did a large +business in horseflesh. Often enough a man, having traced his missing +property, was obliged to buy it back for a few shillings, or a glass +or two of grog.</p> + +<p>It was a general joke in the Crimea that the infantry were better +mounted than the cavalry, and that the sailors had the pick of the +infantry horses.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must go to the sailors' camp, but it's rather out of my +road," said Hyde, as he trudged along under the hot sun.</p> + +<p>Many more fortunate comrades, all mounted, overtook and passed him on +the way. Each time he heard the sound of hoofs his rage increased +against the dishonest rogue who had robbed him of his pony.</p> + +<p>"Like a lift, guv'ner?" said a voice behind him. "You shall have this +tit chape. Half a sov., money down."</p> + +<p>Hyde turned, and saw a blue-jacket astride of the missing pony.</p> + +<p>"Buy it, you rascal! why it belongs to me! Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"I found it, yer honour."</p> + +<p>"Stole it, you mean. Get off this instant, or I'll give you up to the +provost!" And, so saying, Hyde put out his hand to seize the reins.</p> + +<p>"Avast heaving there, commodore," said Jack, digging his heels into +the horse, and lifting it cleverly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> just out of Hyde's reach. "Who +finds keeps. Pay up, or you shan't have him. Why, I deserve a pound +for looking after the dumb baste."</p> + +<p>Hyde looked around for help, but no one was in sight. He was not to be +baulked, however, and made a fresh attempt to get alongside the pony. +But each time the sailor forged a little ahead, and this tantalising +game continued for half-an-hour.</p> + +<p>At last, disgusted and despairing, Hyde thought it better to make +terms. He was losing valuable time.</p> + +<p>"I give in, you rogue! Pull up, and you shall have your money."</p> + +<p>"Honour bright, guv'ner?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said Hyde, taking out the money.</p> + +<p>"It's a fair swap. Hand over the money."</p> + +<p>"No; you give up the pony first."</p> + +<p>"I shan't. That's not my way of doing business."</p> + +<p>"You shall!" cried Hyde, who had been edging up towards the sailor, +and now suddenly made a grab at his leg.</p> + +<p>He caught it, and held it with an iron grip. But Jack was not disposed +to yield quietly. With a loud oath, he struck viciously at the pony's +side with his disengaged foot.</p> + +<p>It was a lively little beast, and went off at once, Hyde still +clinging tenaciously to his prey.</p> + +<p>But Jack was determined not to be beaten. With one hand he tried to +beat off Hyde, and with the other incited the pony to increase its +pace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the end Hyde was thrown to the ground, and received two nasty +kicks—one in the forehead, the other in the breast—from the heels of +the excited horse.</p> + +<p>The sailor got clear away, and our friend Hyde was picked up senseless +half-an-hour later by a passing ambulance-cart, and carried back to +camp.</p> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Volume_2" id="Volume_2"></a>THE THIN RED LINE.</h2> + +<h2>VOLUME II</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>SECRET SERVICE.</h3> + + +<p>McKay, on returning to the Crimea, had resumed his duties at +headquarters. He was complimented by Lord Raglan and General Airey on +the manner in which he had performed his mission.</p> + +<p>"Matters have improved considerably in the month or two you were +absent," said the latter to him one day. "Thanks to the animals you +got us, we have been able to bring up sufficient shot and shell."</p> + +<p>"When is the new bombardment to take place, sir?"</p> + +<p>"At once."</p> + +<p>"And the attack?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you. Some of the French generals are altogether against +assaulting the fortress. They would prefer operations in the open +field."</p> + +<p>"What do they want, sir?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They would like to divide the whole allied forces into three distinct +armies: one to remain and guard the trenches, another to go round by +sea, so as to cut the Russian communications; and the third, when this +is completed, to attack the Mackenzie heights, and get in at the back +of the fortress."</p> + +<p>"It seems rather a wild plan, sir."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you—wild and impossible."</p> + +<p>"Does the French commander-in-chief approve of it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"General Canrobert does; but I think we have nearly seen the last of +him. I expect any day to hear that he has given up the command."</p> + +<p>"Who will succeed him, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Pélissier, I believe—a very different sort of man, as we shall see."</p> + +<p>A few days later the change which has already been referred to took +place, and Marshal Pélissier came over to the English headquarters to +take part in a council of war. All the principal general officers of +both armies were present, and so was McKay, whose perfect acquaintance +with French made him useful in interpreting and facilitating the free +interchange of ideas.</p> + +<p>The new French commander-in-chief was a prominent figure at the +council—a short, stout, hard-featured man, brusque in movements and +abrupt in speech; a man of much decision of character, one who made up +his mind quickly, was intolerant of all oppo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[3]</a></span>sition, and doggedly +determined to force his will upon others.</p> + +<p>When it came to the turn of the French generals to speak, one of them +began a long protest against the attack as too hazardous. Several +others brought forward pet schemes of their own for reducing the +place.</p> + +<p>"Enough!" said Pélissier, peremptorily. "You are not brought here to +discuss whether or how we should attack. That point is already settled +by my lord and myself."</p> + +<p>He looked at Lord Raglan, who bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"We have decided to attack the outworks on the 7th of the month."</p> + +<p>"But I dissent," began General Bosquet.</p> + +<p>"Did you not hear me? I tell you we have decided to attack. You are +only called together to arrange how it can best be carried out."</p> + +<p>"I have a paper here in which I have argued out the principles on +which an attack should be conducted," said another, General Niel, an +engineer.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Pélissier, "you gentlemen are very clever—I admit your +scientific knowledge—but when I want your advice I will ask for it."</p> + +<p>While this conversation was in progress, the English officers present +were whispering amongst themselves with undisguised satisfaction at +finding that the new commander-in-chief of the French, unlike his +predecessor, was well able to keep his subordinates in order;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[4]</a></span> and, +all useless discussion having been cut short, the plan of attack was +soon arranged.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lord Raglan, "it is all clear. We shall begin by a heavy +cannonade."</p> + +<p>"To last four-and-twenty-hours," said Pélissier, "and then the +assault."</p> + +<p>"At what hour?" asked Lord Raglan.</p> + +<p>"Daylight, of course!" cried two or three French generals in a breath.</p> + +<p>"One moment," interposed General Airey. "Day-break is the time of all +others that the enemy would expect an attack; they would therefore be +best prepared for it then."</p> + +<p>A sharp argument followed, and lasted several minutes, each side +clinging tenaciously to its own opinion.</p> + +<p>"Do not waste your energies, gentlemen," said Marshal Pélissier, again +interfering decidedly. "Lord Raglan and I have settled that matter for +ourselves. The attack will take place at five o'clock in the +afternoon. That will allow time for us to get established in the +enemy's works in the night after we have carried them."</p> + +<p>"Of course, gentlemen," said Lord Raglan, in breaking up the council, +"you will all understand the importance of secrecy. Not a word of what +has passed here must be repeated outside. It would be fatal to success +if the enemy got any inkling of our intentions."</p> + +<p>"It's quite extraordinary," said General Airey to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[5]</a></span> McKay and a few +more, as they passed out from the council-chamber, "how the enemy gets +his information."</p> + +<p>"Those newspaper correspondents, I suspect, are responsible," said +another general. "They let out everything, and the news, directly it +is printed, is telegraphed to Russia."</p> + +<p>"That does not entirely explain it. They must be always several weeks +behind. I am referring more particularly to what happens at the +moment. Everything appears to be immediately known."</p> + +<p>"Why, only the other day a Russian spy walked coolly through our +second parallel," said a French officer, "and counted the number of +the guns. He passed himself off as an English traveller."</p> + +<p>"Great impudence, but great pluck. I wish we had men who would do the +same. That's what I complain of. We want a better organised secret +service, and men like Wellington's famous Captain Grant in the +Peninsular War, bold, adroit, and quick-witted, ready to run any +risks, but bound to get information in the long run. I wish I could +lay my hands on a few Captain Grants."</p> + +<p>McKay smarted under the sting of these reproaches, feeling they +applied, although scarcely so intended, to him. But there was no man, +after all, on the headquarter staff better fitted to remove them. With +his enterprising spirit and intimate acquaintance with many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[6]</a></span> tongues, +he ought to be able to secure information that would be useful to his +chiefs.</p> + +<p>Full of this idea, he rode down that afternoon to Balaclava, the +centre of all the rascaldom that had gathered around the base of the +Crimean army. He was in search of agents whom he could employ as +emissaries into the enemy's lines.</p> + +<p>Putting up his horse, he mixed amongst the motley crowd that thronged +the "sutlers' town," as it was called, which had sprung up half-a-mile +outside Balaclava, to accommodate the swarms of strangers who, under +the strict rule of Colonel Harding, had been expelled from the port +itself.</p> + +<p>The place was like a fair—a jumble of huts and shanties and ragged +canvas tents, with narrow, irregular lanes between them, in which the +polyglot traders bought and sold. Here were grave Armenians, scampish +Greeks from the Levant, wild-eyed Bedouins, Tartars from Asia Minor, +evil-visaged Italians, scowling Spaniards, hoarse-voiced, slouching +Whitechapel ruffians, with a well-developed talent for dealing in +stolen goods.</p> + +<p>As McKay stood watching the curious scene, and replying rather curtly +to the eager salesmen, who pestered him perpetually to buy anything +and everything—food, saddlery, pocket-knives, horse-shoes, fire-arms, +and swords—he became conscious of a stir and flutter among the crowd. +It presently became strangely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[7]</a></span> silent, and parted obsequiously, to +give passage to some great personage who approached.</p> + +<p>This was Major Shervinton, the provost-marshal, supreme master and +autocrat of all camp-followers, whom he ruled with an iron hand. Close +behind him came two sturdy assistants—men who had once been drummers, +and were specially selected in an army where flogging was the chief +punishment for their prowess with the cat-o'-nine-tales.</p> + +<p>Woe to the sutler, whatever his rank or nation, who fell foul of the +terrible provost! Summary arrest, the briefest trial, and a sharp +sentence peremptorily executed, in the shape of four dozen, was the +certain treatment of all who offended against martial law.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, McKay!" cried Shervinton, a big, burly, pleasant-faced man, +whose cheery manner was in curious contrast with his formidable +functions. "What brings a swell from headquarters into this den of +iniquity? Lost your servant, or looking out for one? Don't engage any +one without asking me. They are an abominable lot, and deserve to be +hanged, all of them."</p> + +<p>"You are the very fellow to help me, Shervinton," and McKay, taking +the provost-marshal aside, told him his errand.</p> + +<p>"I firmly believe every second man here is a spy, or would be if he +had the pluck."</p> + +<p>"Are any of them, do you think, in communication with the Russians?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lots. They come and go through the lines, I believe, as they please."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could find a few fellows of this sort."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can put you in the way; only I doubt whether you can trust +to a single word that they will tell you."</p> + +<p>"But where shall we come upon them?"</p> + +<p>"The best plan will be to consult Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at +the end of the lines. I have always suspected him of being a Russian +spy; but I dare say we could buy him over if you want him. If he tries +to play us false we will hang him the same day."</p> + +<p>Valetta Joe was in his bread-store—a small shed communicating with +the dark, dirty, semi-subterranean cellar behind, in which the dough +was kneaded and baked. The shed was encumbered with barrels of +inferior flour, and all around upon shelves lay the small short rolls, +dark-looking and sour-tasting, which were sold in the camp for a +shilling a piece.</p> + +<p>"Well, Joe, what's the news from Sebastopol to-day?" asked Shervinton.</p> + +<p>"Why you ask me, sare? I a poor Maltee baker—sell bread, make money. +Have nothing to do with fight."</p> + +<p>"You rascal! You know you're in league with the Russians. I have had +my eye on you this long time. Some of these days we'll be down upon +you like a cart-load of bricks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You a very hard man, Major Shervinton, sare—very unkind to poor Joe. +I offer you bread every day for nothing; you say No. Why not take +Joe's bread?"</p> + +<p>"Because Joe's a scoundrel to offer it. Do you suppose I am to be +bribed in that way? But here: I tell you what we are after. This +gentleman," pointing to McKay, "wants news from the other side."</p> + +<p>"Why you come to me? I nothing to do with other side."</p> + +<p>"You can help him, you know that, and you must; or we will bundle you +out of this and send you back to Constantinople."</p> + +<p>The provost-marshal's manner was not to be mistaken.</p> + +<p>"What can I do, sare?"</p> + +<p>"Find out some one who can pass through the lines and bring or send +him to my friend."</p> + +<p>"Who is this gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"He is one of Lord Raglan's staff; his name is Mr. McKay."</p> + +<p>A close observer would have seen that the baker started slightly at +the name and that he bent an eager, inquisitive look upon McKay.</p> + +<p>"Will the gentleman give promise to do no harm to me or my people?"</p> + +<p>"So long as you behave properly,—yes."</p> + +<p>"I think I know some one, then."</p> + +<p>"Produce him at once."</p> + +<p>"He not here to-day; out selling bread. Where he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[10]</a></span> find you, sare, +to-morrow, or any time he have anything to tell?"</p> + +<p>"Let him come to the headquarters and ask for my tent," said McKay. +"There is my name on a piece of paper; if he shows that to the sentry +they will let him through."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sare; you wait and see."</p> + +<p>"No humbug, mind, Joe; or I'll be down on you!" added the +provost-marshal. "Is that all you want, McKay?"</p> + +<p>Our hero expressed himself quite satisfied, and, with many thanks to +the provost-marshal, he remounted and rode away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_II" id="CHAPTER_2_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>AMONG THE COSSACKS.</h3> + + +<p>McKay was in His tent next morning finishing dressing when his servant +brought him a piece of crumpled paper and said there was a messenger +waiting to see him. The paper was the pass given the day before to +Valetta Joe; its bearer was a nondescript-looking ruffian, in a long +shaggy cloak of camel's hair, whose open throat and bare legs hinted +at a great scantiness of wardrobe beneath. He wore an old red fez, +stained purple, on the back of his bullet-head; he had a red, freckled +face, red eyebrows, red eyes, red hair, and a pointed red beard, both +of which were very ragged and unkempt.</p> + +<p>"Have you got anything to tell me?" asked McKay, sharply, in English; +and when the other shook his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[12]</a></span> he tried him in French, Spanish, +and last of all in Italian.</p> + +<p>"News," replied the visitor, at length, laconically; "ten dollars."</p> + +<p>McKay put the money in his hand and was told briefly—</p> + +<p>"To-morrow—sortie—Woronzoff Road."</p> + +<p>And this was all the fellow would say.</p> + +<p>McKay passed on this information to his chief, but rather doubtfully, +declining to vouch for it, or say whence it had come.</p> + +<p>It was felt, however, that no harm could be done in accepting the news +as true and preparing for a Russian attack. The event proved the +wisdom of this course. The sortie was made next night. A Russian +column of considerable strength advanced some distance along the +Woronzoff Road, but finding the English on the alert immediately +retired.</p> + +<p>The next piece of information that reached McKay from the same source, +but by a different messenger, was more readily credited. He learnt +this time that the Russians intended to establish a new kind of +battery in front of the Karabel suburb.</p> + +<p>"What kind?" asked McKay.</p> + +<p>The messenger, a hungry-looking Tartar who spoke broken English, but +when encouraged explained himself freely in Russian, said—</p> + +<p>"Big guns; they sink one end deep into the ground, the other point +very high."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I understand. They want to give great elevation, so as to increase +the range."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you see. They will reach right into your camp."</p> + +<p>Again the information proved correct. Within a couple of days the +camps of the Third and Fourth Divisions, hitherto deemed safe from the +fire of the fortress, were disturbed by the whistling of round-shot in +their midst. The fact was reported in due course to headquarters.</p> + +<p>"You see, sir, it is just what I was told," said McKay to General +Airey.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you deserve great credit. You seem to have organised an +intelligence department of your own, and, what is more to the purpose, +your fellow seems always right."</p> + +<p>McKay was greatly gratified at this encouragement, and eager to be +still more useful. He visited the Maltese baker again, and urged him +to continue supplying him with news.</p> + +<p>"Trust to Joe. Wait one little bit; you know plenty more."</p> + +<p>Several days passed, however, without any fresh news. Then a new +messenger came, another Tartar, a very old man with a flowing grey +beard, wearing a long caftan like a dressing-gown to his heels, and an +enormous sheepskin cap that came far down over his eyes, and almost +hid his face. He seemed very decrepit, and was excessively stupid, +probably from old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[14]</a></span> age. He looked terribly frightened when brought to +McKay's tent, stooping his shoulders and hanging his head in the +cowering, deprecating attitude of one who expects, but would not dare +to ward off, a blow.</p> + +<p>He was tongue-tied, for he made no attempt to speak, but merely thrust +forward one hand, making a deep obeisance with the other. There was a +scrap of paper in the extended hand, which McKay took and opened +curiously. A few lines in Italian were scrawled on it.</p> + +<p>"The Russians are collecting large forces beyond the Tchernaya," ran +the message. "Expect a new attack on that side."</p> + +<p>"Who gave you this?" asked McKay, in Russian.</p> + +<p>The old fellow bowed low, but made no answer.</p> + +<p>He repeated the question in Italian and every other language of which +he was master, but obtained no reply. The man remained stupidly, +idiotically dumb, only grovelling lower and more abjectly each time.</p> + +<p>"What an old jackass he is! I shall get nothing out of him, I'm +afraid. But it won't do to despise the message, wherever it comes +from. Take him outside," he said to his orderly, "while I go and see +the general." "You have no idea where this news comes from?" was +General Airey's first inquiry.</p> + +<p>"The same source, I don't doubt; but of course I can't vouch for its +accuracy."</p> + +<p>"It might be very important," the general was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[15]</a></span> musing. "I am not sure +whether you know what we contemplate in these next few days?"</p> + +<p>"In the direction of the Tchernaya, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Now that the Sardinian troops have all arrived, Lord +Raglan thinks we are strong enough to extend our position as far as +the river."</p> + +<p>"I had heard nothing of it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"If this news be true, the Russians appear to be better informed than +you are, McKay."</p> + +<p>"And are preparing to oppose our movement?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I should like to know, and what gives so much +importance to these tidings. I only wish we could verify them. Where +is your messenger? Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"A half-witted old Tartar; you will get nothing out of him, sir. I +have been trying hard this half-hour."</p> + +<p>"But you know where the news comes from. Could you not follow it up to +its source?"</p> + +<p>"I will do so at once, sir;" and within half-an-hour McKay was in his +saddle, riding down to Balaclava.</p> + +<p>Valetta Joe was in his shop, distributing a batch of newly-baked bread +to a number of itinerant vendors, each bound to retail the loaves in +the various camps.</p> + +<p>McKay waited until the place was clear, then accosted the baker +sharply.</p> + +<p>"What was the good of your sending that old numbskull to me?"</p> + +<p>"He give you letter. You not understand?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I understand; but I want to be certain it is true."</p> + +<p>"When Joe tell lies? You believe him before; if you like, believe him +again."</p> + +<p>"But can't you tell me more about it? How many troops have the +Russians collected? Since when? What do they mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"You ask Russian general, not me; I only know what I hear."</p> + +<p>"But it would be possible to tell, from the position of the enemy, +something of their intentions. I could directly if I saw them."</p> + +<p>"Then why you not go and look for yourself?" asked Joe, carelessly; +but there was a glitter in his eyes which gave a deep meaning to the +simple question.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said McKay, whom the look had escaped. "It is well worth +the risk."</p> + +<p>"I'll help you, if you like," went on Joe, with the same outwardly +unconcerned manner.</p> + +<p>"Can you? How?"</p> + +<p>"Very easy to pass lines. You put on Tartar clothes same as that old +man go to you to-day. He live near Tchorgaun; he take you right into +middle of Russian camp."</p> + +<p>"When can he start?" asked McKay eagerly, accepting without hesitation +all the risks of this perilous undertaking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To-night, if you choose. Come down here by-and-by; I have everything +ready."</p> + +<p>McKay agreed, and returned to headquarters in all haste, where he +sought out his chief and confided to him his intentions.</p> + +<p>"You are really prepared to penetrate the enemy's lines? It will be a +daring, dangerous job, McKay. I should be wrong to encourage you."</p> + +<p>"It is of vital importance, you say, that we should really know what +the enemy is doing beyond the Tchernaya. I am quite ready to go, sir."</p> + +<p>"Lord Raglan—all of us—indeed, will be greatly indebted to you if +you can find out. But I do not like this idea of the disguise, McKay. +You ought not to go under false colours."</p> + +<p>"I should probably learn more."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but do you know what your fate would be if you were discovered?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I should be hanged, sir," said McKay, simply.</p> + +<p>"Hanged or shot. Spies—everyone out of uniform is a spy—get a very +short shrift at an enemy's hand. No; you must stick to your legitimate +dress. I am sure Lord Raglan would allow you to go under no other +conditions."</p> + +<p>"As you wish, sir. Only I fear I should not be so useful as if I were +disguised."</p> + +<p>"It is my order," said the general, briefly; and after that there was +nothing more to be said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>McKay spent the rest of the afternoon at his usual duties, and towards +evening, having carefully reloaded his revolver, and filled his +pockets with Russian rouble notes, which he obtained on purpose from +the military chest, he mounted a tough little Tartar pony, used +generally by his servant, and trotted down to the hut-town.</p> + +<p>Valetta Joe heard with marked disapprobation McKay's intention of +carrying out his enterprise without assuming disguise.</p> + +<p>"You better stay at home: not go very far like that."</p> + +<p>"Lend me a <i>greggo</i> to throw over my coat, and a sheepskin cap, and I +shall easily pass the Cossack sentries. Where is my guide?"</p> + +<p>"Seelim—Jee!" shouted Joe, and the old gentleman who had visited +McKay that morning came ambling up from the cellar below.</p> + +<p>"Is that old idiot to go with me? Why, he speaks no known tongue!" +cried McKay.</p> + +<p>"Only Tartar. You know no Tartar? Well, he understand the stick. Show +it him—so," and Joe made a motion of striking the old man, who bent +submissively to receive the blow.</p> + +<p>"Does he know where he is to take me? What we are going to do?"</p> + +<p>"All right. You trust him: he take you past Cossacks." Joe muttered a +few unintelligible instructions to the guide, who received them with +deep respect, making a low bow, first to Joe and then to McKay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I give him <i>greggo</i> and cap: you put them on when you like."</p> + +<p>McKay knew that he could only pass the British sentries openly, +showing his uniform as a staff officer, so he made the guide carry the +clothes, and the two pressed forward together through Kadikoi, towards +the formidable line of works that now covered Balaclava.</p> + +<p>He skirted the flank of one of the redoubts, and, passing beyond the +intrenchments, came at length to our most advanced posts, a line of +cavalry vedettes, stationed at a considerable distance apart.</p> + +<p>"I am one of the headquarter staff," he said, briefly, to the sergeant +commanding the picket, "and have to make a short reconnaissance +towards Kamara. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Are we to support you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No; but look out for my coming back. It may not be till daybreak, but +it will be as well, perhaps, to tell your men who I am, and to expect +me. I don't want to be shot on re-entering our own lines."</p> + +<p>"Never fear, sir, so long as we know. I will tell the officer, and +make it all right."</p> + +<p>McKay now rode slowly on, his guide at his horse's head. They kept in +the valleys, already, as night was now advancing, deep in shade, and +their figures, which could have been clearly made out against the sky +if on the upper slopes, were nearly invisible on the lower ground.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid summer's evening, perfectly still and peaceful, with +no sounds abroad but the ceaseless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[20]</a></span> chirp of innumerable grasshoppers, +and the faint hum of buzzing insects ever on the wing. Only at +intervals were strange sounds wafted on the breeze, and told their own +story; the distant blare of trumpets, and the occasional "thud" of +heavy cannon, gun answering gun between besiegers and besieged. As +they fared along, McKay once or twice inquired, more by gesture than +by voice, how far they had to go.</p> + +<p>Each time the guide replied by a single word—"Cossack"—spoken almost +in a whisper, and following by his placing finger on lip.</p> + +<p>Half-a-mile further, the guide motioned to McKay to dismount and leave +his horse, repeating the caution "Cossack!" in the same low tone of +voice.</p> + +<p>McKay, who had now put on the <i>greggo</i> and sheepskin cap, did as he +was asked, and the two crept forward together, having left the horse +tethered to a bush, the guide explaining by signs that they would +presently come back to it.</p> + +<p>A little farther and he placed his hand upon McKay's arms, with a +motion to halt.</p> + +<p>"H—sh!" said the old man, using a sound which has the same meaning in +all tongues, and held up a finger.</p> + +<p>McKay listened attentively, and heard voices approaching them. +Instinctively he drew his revolver and waited events. The voices grew +plainer and plainer, then gradually faded away.</p> + +<p>"Cossack!" repeated the guide, and McKay gathered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[21]</a></span> that these were a +couple of Cossack sentries, from whose clutches he had narrowly +escaped.</p> + +<p>Again our hero was urged forward, and this time with all speed. The +guide ran, followed by McKay, for a couple of hundred yards, then +halted suddenly. What next? He had thrown himself on the ground, and +seemed closely examining it; in this attitude he crept forward +cautiously.</p> + +<p>The movement was presently explained. A slight splash told of water +encountered. He had been in search of the river, and had found it. +This was the Tchernaya—a slow sluggish stream, hidden amidst long +marshy grass, and everywhere fordable, as McKay had heard, at this +season of the year.</p> + +<p>The guide now stood up and pointed to the river, motioning McKay to +enter it and cross.</p> + +<p>Our hero stepped in boldly, and in all good faith, expecting his guide +to follow. But he was half-way towards the other bank, and still the +old man had made no move.</p> + +<p>Why this hesitation?</p> + +<p>McKay beckoned to him to come on. The guide advanced a step or two, +then halted irresolute.</p> + +<p>McKay grew impatient, and repeated his motion more peremptorily. The +guide advanced another step and again halted. He seemed to suffer from +an invincible dislike to cold water.</p> + +<p>"Is he a cur or a traitor?" McKay asked himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[22]</a></span> and drew his +revolver to quicken the old man's movements, whichever he was.</p> + +<p>The sight of the weapon seemed to throw the guide into a paroxysm of +fear. He fell flat on the ground, and obstinately refused to move.</p> + +<p>All this time McKay was in the river, up to his knees, a position not +particularly comfortable. Besides, valuable time was being wasted—the +night was not too long for what he had to do. Hastily regaining the +bank, he rejoined the guide where he lay, and kicked him till he stood +erect.</p> + +<p>"You old scoundrel!" cried McKay, putting his revolver to his head. +"Come on! do you understand? Come on, or you are a dead man!"</p> + +<p>The gesture was threatening, not that McKay had any thought of firing. +He knew a pistol-shot would raise a general alarm. Still the old man, +although trembling in every limb, would not move.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" repeated McKay, and with the idea of dragging him forward +he seized him fiercely by the beard.</p> + +<p>To his intense surprise, it came off in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Cursed Englishman!" cried a voice with which he was perfectly +familiar, and in Spanish. "You are at my mercy now. You dare not fire; +your life is forfeited. The enemy is all around you. I have betrayed +you into their hands."</p> + +<p>"Benito! Can it be possible?" But McKay did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[23]</a></span> not suffer his +astonishment to interfere with his just revenge.</p> + +<p>"On your knees, dog! Say your prayers. I will shoot you first, +whatever happens to me."</p> + +<p>"You are too late!" cried Benito, wrenching himself from his grasp, +and whistling shrilly as he ran away.</p> + +<p>McKay fired three shots at him in succession, one of which must have +told, for the scoundrel gave a great yell of pain.</p> + +<p>The next instant McKay was surrounded by a mob of Cossacks and quickly +made prisoner.</p> + +<p>They had evidently been waiting for him, and the whole enterprise was +a piece of premeditated treachery, as boldly executed as it had been +craftily planned.</p> + +<p>McKay's captors having searched his pockets with the nimbleness of +London thieves, and deprived him of money, watch, and all his +possessions, proceeded to handle him very roughly. He had fought and +struggled desperately, but was easily overpowered. They were twenty to +one, and their wild blood was aroused by his resistance. He was +beaten, badly mauled, and thrown to the ground, where a number of them +held him hand and foot, whilst others produced ropes to bind him fast. +The brutal indignities to which he was subjected made McKay wild with +rage. He addressed them in their own language, protesting vainly +against such shameful ill-usage.</p> + +<p>"Hounds! Miscreants! Sons of burnt mothers!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[24]</a></span> Do you dare to treat an +English officer thus? Take me before your superior. Is there no one +here in authority? I claim his protection."</p> + +<p>"Which you don't deserve, scurvy rogue," said a quiet voice. "You are +no officer—only a vile, disreputable spy."</p> + +<p>"I can prove to you—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! how well you speak Russian. We know all about you; we expected +you. But enough: we must be going on."</p> + +<p>"I don't know who you may be," began McKay, hotly, "but I shall +complain of you to your superior officer."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" replied the other, haughtily. "Have I not told you to hold +your tongue? Fill his mouth with clay, some of you, and bring him +along."</p> + +<p>This fresh outrage nearly maddened McKay.</p> + +<p>"You shall carry me, then," he spluttered out, from where he still lay +upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"Ah! we'll see. Get up, will you! Prick him with the point of your +lance, Ivanovich. Come, move yourself," added the officer, as McKay +slowly yielded to this painful persuasion, "move yourself, or you +shall feel this," and the officer cracked the long lash of his +riding-whip.</p> + +<p>"You shall answer for this barbarity," said McKay "I demand to be +taken before the General at once."</p> + +<p>"You shall see him, never fear, sooner than you might wish, perhaps."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take me at once before him; I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>"You will wait till it suits us, dog; meanwhile, lie there."</p> + +<p>They had reached a rough shelter built of mud and long reeds. It was +the picket-house, the headquarters of the troop of Cossacks, and a +number of them were lying and hanging about, their horses tethered +close by.</p> + +<p>The officer pointed to a corner of the hut, and, giving peremptory +instructions to a couple of sentries to watch the prisoner, for whom +they would have to answer with their lives, he disappeared.</p> + +<p>Greatly dejected and cast down at the failure of his enterprise, and +in acute physical pain from his recent ill-usage and the tightness of +his bonds, McKay passed the rest of the night very miserably.</p> + +<p>Dawn came at length, but with it no relief. On the contrary, daylight +aggravated his sufferings. He could see now the cruel scowling visages +of his captors, and the indescribable filth and squalor of the den in +which he lay.</p> + +<p>"Get up!" cried a voice; but McKay was too much dazed and distracted +by all he had endured to understand that the command was addressed to +him.</p> + +<p>It was repeated more arrogantly, and accompanied by a brutal kick.</p> + +<p>He rose slowly and reluctantly, and asked in a sullen voice—</p> + +<p>"Where are you taking me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Before his Excellency. Step out, or must we prick you along?"</p> + +<p>A march of half-an-hour under a strong escort brought them to a large +camp. They passed through many lines of tents, and halted presently +before a smart marquee.</p> + +<p>The Cossack officer in charge entered it, and presently returned with +the order—</p> + +<p>"March him in!"</p> + +<p>McKay found himself in the presence of a broadly-built, middle-aged +man, in the long grey great-coat worn by all ranks of the Russian +army, from highest to lowest, and the flat, circular-topped cap +carried also by all. There was nothing to indicate the rank of this +personage but a small silver ornament on each shoulder-strap, and +another in the centre of the cap. At a button-hole on his breast, +however, was a small parti-coloured rosette, the simple record of +orders and insignia too precious to carry in the field.</p> + +<p>There was unbounded arrogance and contempt in his voice and manner as +he addressed the prisoner, who might have been the vilest of created +things.</p> + +<p>"So"—he spoke in French, like most well-educated Russians of that +day, to show their aristocratic superiority—"you have dared, wretch, +to thrust yourself into the bear's mouth! You shall be hanged in +half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>"I claim to be treated as a prisoner of war," said McKay, boldly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You! impudent rogue! A low camp-follower! A sneaking, skulking +spy—taken in the very act! You!"</p> + +<p>"I am a British officer!" went on McKay, stoutly. He was not to be +browbeaten or abashed.</p> + +<p>"Where is your uniform?"</p> + +<p>"Here!" replied McKay, throwing open the <i>greggo</i>, which he still +wore, and showing the red waistcoat beneath, and the black breeches +with their broad red stripe.</p> + +<p>"You said he was a civilian in Tartar disguise," said the +general,—for such was the officer's rank,—turning to one of his +staff and seeming rather staggered at McKay's announcement. He spoke +in Russian.</p> + +<p>"Take care, Excellency; the prisoner speaks Russian."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said the general to McKay. "An unusual accomplishment +that, in English officers, I expect."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am acquainted with Russian," said McKay. Why should he deny +it? They had heard him use that language at the time of his capture.</p> + +<p>"How and when did you learn it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not choose to say. What can that matter?"</p> + +<p>Again the staff-officer interposed and whispered something in the +general's ear.</p> + +<p>"Of course; I had forgotten." Then, turning to McKay, he went on: +"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"McKay."</p> + +<p>"Your Christian names in full?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Stanislas Alexandrovich McKay. I knew your father when he +was a captain in the Polish Lancers; was he not?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot deny it."</p> + +<p>"He was a Russian, in the service of our holy Czar, and you, his son, +are a Russian too."</p> + +<p>"It is false! I am an Englishman. I have never yielded allegiance to +the Czar."</p> + +<p>"You will find it hard to evade your responsibility. It is not to be +put on or off like a coat. You were born a Russian subject, and a +Russian subject you remain!"</p> + +<p>"I bear a commission in the army of the British Queen. I dare you to +treat me as a Russian now!"</p> + +<p>"We will treat you as we find you, Mr. McKay: as an interloper +disguised for an improper purpose within our lines."</p> + +<p>"What shall you do with me?" asked McKay, in a firm voice, but with a +sinking heart.</p> + +<p>"Hang you like a dog to the nearest tree. Or, stay! out of respect for +your father, whom I knew, and if you prefer it, you shall be shot."</p> + +<p>"I am in your power. But I warn you that, if you execute me, the +merciless act will be remembered throughout Europe as an eternal +disgrace to the Russian arms."</p> + +<p>This bold speech was not without its effect. The general consulted +with his staff, and a rather animated discussion followed, at the end +of which he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[29]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I am not to be deterred by any such threats: still, it will be better +to refer your case to my superiors. I shall send you into Sebastopol, +to be dealt with as Prince Gortschakoff may think fit, only do not +expect more at his hands than at mine. Rope or rifle—one of them will +be your fate. See he is sent off, Colonel Golopine, will you? And now +take him away."</p> + +<p>McKay was marched out of the marquee, still under the escort of +Cossacks. But outside he was presently handed over to a fresh party; +they brought up a shaggy pony—it might have been the fellow of the +one he had left behind the previous night—and curtly bade him mount. +When, with hands still tied, he scrambled with difficulty into his +saddle, they tied his legs together by a long rope under the pony's +belly, and, placing him in the centre of the escort, they started off +at a jog-trot in the direction of the town.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_III" id="CHAPTER_2_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>A PURVEYOR OF NEWS.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Hobson gave his address at Duke Street, St. James's, a +lodging-house frequented by gentlemen from the neighbouring clubs. But +he was never there except asleep. There was nothing strange in this as +none of the occupants of the house were much there, except at +night-time—they lived at their clubs.</p> + +<p>So, for all the landlady knew, did Mr. Hobson. But we know better. He +had no club, and his daily absence from breakfast—simply a cup of +coffee and a roll, which he took in the French fashion, early—till +late at night was to be accounted for by his constant presence at his +office or place of business, although it was both and neither. This +was in a little street off Bloomsbury, the first floor over a +newspaper shop.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson passed here as an agent for a country<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[31]</a></span> paper. It was +supposed to be his business to collect and transmit news to his +principals at a large seaport town on the East Coast. These were days +before the present development of newspaper enterprise, when leading +provincial journals have their own London offices and a private wire. +Mr. Hobson's principles were very liberal according to the idea of +that time; they seemed to grudge no expense with regard to the +transmission of news.</p> + +<p>Telegrams were costly things in those days, but Mr. Hobson sometimes +sent off half-a-dozen in the course of a morning. He was served too, +and exceedingly well, by special agents of his own, who came to him at +all hours—in cabs driven recklessly, or on foot, in a stealthy, +apologetic way, as though doubtful whether the news they brought would +be acceptable.</p> + +<p>The office upstairs bore out the notion of the news-agency. Its chief +furniture consisted of two long, sloping tables, on which lay files of +daily papers. There was one big book-case handy near the fireplace, +and over the desk at which Mr. Hobson sat. On the shelves of this were +ranged a couple of dozen volumes, each bearing a label on which were +various letters and numerals.</p> + +<p>On the desk itself were the usual writing appliances, a large pair of +scissors, and a wide-mouthed bottle of gum.</p> + +<p>Let us look in at Mr. Hobson on his first arrival at his office, soon +after eight o'clock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>His first business was to ring his bell, which communicated with the +shop below.</p> + +<p>"My papers! It is past eight."</p> + +<p>"Here they are, sir, the whole lot—<i>Times</i>, <i>'Tizer</i>, <i>Morning +Chronicle</i>, and <i>Morning Post</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why do you oblige me to ask for them? Can't you bring them as I have +told you? It makes me so late with my work." And, having delivered +himself of these testy remarks, he threw himself into an arm-chair +and proceeded to devour the morning's news.</p> + +<p>"Nothing fresh from the East?" As he now talked to himself, this +smooth-shaven, typical Englishman spoke, strange to say, in French. +"Have Messieurs the correspondents no news? No letter in the <i>Post</i>? +None in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>? How disappointing! Ha! what's this? +Two columns in the <i>Times</i>. How admirably that excellent paper is +served! Let's see what it says."</p> + +<p>He hastily ran his eye down the columns, muttering to himself: "Ha! +mostly strong language—finding fault. How kind of you to be +dissatisfied with the administration, and to tell us why. The siege +practically suspended, eh? Fuses won't fit the shells—so much the +better, then the mortars can't fire.</p> + +<p>"But that's no news: my friends and good masters will have found that +out for themselves. Anything else? 'Our new battery, which is only +seven hundred yards from the enemy's guns, is nearly completed.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[33]</a></span> +Which battery does he mean? Has he referred to it before?"</p> + +<p>And Mr. Hobson, as we shall still call him, got up from his seat and +took a volume down from the shelf. It was labelled "T. 14, M. 55." +These expressions expanded meant that it contained extracts from the +<i>Times</i>, the 14th volume, for May, 1855.</p> + +<p>After referring to an alphabetical index, he quickly turned over the +leaves of the book till he found a certain page.</p> + +<p>"Ah! here it is," he said. "'We have commenced another battery just in +front of the quarries, the nearest to the enemy's works. It will be +armed with the heaviest ordnance,' &c. &c. And now it is nearly ready. +That must be passed on without delay."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson turned to his desk and indited a telegram. It was addressed +to Arrowsmith, Hull, and said—</p> + +<p>"New shop, as already indicated, will be opened at once. Let our +Gothenburg correspondent know."</p> + +<p>"I will take it over myself. But let me first see whether there is +anything to add."</p> + +<p>He resumed his reading, and presently came to the following passage:—</p> + +<p>"'Lord Lyons had just returned from a cruise in the Black Sea. This +confirms my impression that some new movement is contemplated. +Regiments have been placed under orders, and there is great stir among +the fleet. A secret expedition is on the point of being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[34]</a></span> despatched +somewhere, but the real destination no one as yet knows. Camp-gossip +is, of course, busy; but I will not repeat the idle and misleading +rumours that are on every lip.'</p> + +<p>"Another expedition planned! I must know more of this. Where can it be +going? Is it meant for the Sea of Azof and Kertch, like the last, +which alarmed us so, and never got so far?</p> + +<p>"What a business that was! We heard of it long beforehand; +preparations for transport, and the embarkation of the troops. The +fleet left Kamiesch, steering northward, past Sebastopol, and we +thought the latter would be attacked. But lo! next morning the enemy +were not in sight; the fleet had returned to Kamiesch Bay. What did it +mean? It was weeks before I learnt the right story, and then it came +from Paris. General Canrobert had changed his mind. The Emperor had +told him not to send away any troops, but to keep all concentrated +before Sebastopol. So the expedition to Kertch—for it was directed +against Kertch, and the northward move was only intended to deceive +us—all ended in smoke. Can they be going again to Kertch? It is +hardly likely. They have some deeper designs, I feel sure. This would +tally with my latest advice. Let me read once more what the Prince +says."</p> + +<p>He took a key from his pocket, opened his desk, and unlocked an inner +receptacle, from which he took a letter in cypher.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'We have learnt,' he read, fluently, without using any key, 'that the +enemy contemplate a great change in their plan of operations. It is +reported that they propose to raise the siege, or at least reduce it +to a mere blockade. The great bulk of the allied army would then be +transferred to sea to another point where it would take the field +against our line of communications. It is essential that we should +know at the earliest date whether there is any foundation in this +report. Use every endeavour to this end.'</p> + +<p>"Yes; there can be no doubt that this surmise is corroborated by the +latest news. But I must have more precise and correct information +without delay. How is it to be obtained? Which of my agents can help +me best? Lavitsky? He works in Woolwich Arsenal—he might know if more +wheeled transport had been ordered. Or Bauer, at Portsmouth—he would +know of any movements in the fleet. Or—</p> + +<p>"Of course!" and he slapped his forehead, despising his own stupidity. +"Cyprienne—she can, and must, manage this."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to put back the papers into the secret drawer; he +replaced the volume on the shelf, and, taking the telegram he had +written in his hand, left the office, carefully locking the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>Hailing a cab, he was driven first to a telegraph-station, where he +sent off his despatch, only adding the words:—</p> + +<p>"Other important transactions in the shipping in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[36]</a></span>terest will shortly +be undertaken; more precise details will speedily follow."</p> + +<p>Then he directed the cabman to drive to Thistle Grove, Brompton.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Wilders visible yet?" he asked the servant, on reaching her +house.</p> + +<p>"Madame does not receive so early," replied the man, a foreigner, +speaking broken English, who was new to the establishment, and had +never seen Mr. Hobson before.</p> + +<p>"Take in my name!" said Mr. Hobson, peremptorily. "It is urgent, say. +I must see her at once."</p> + +<p>"I will tell madame's maid."</p> + +<p>"Do so, and look sharp about it. Don't trouble about me—be off and +tell the maid. I know my way;" and Mr. Hobson marched himself into the +morning-room.</p> + +<p>This room, in the forenoon, was on the shady side of the house—it +looked on to a pretty garden, a small, level lawn of intensely green +grass, jewelled with flowers. The windows, reaching to the ground, +were wide open, and near one was drawn a small round table, on which +was set a dainty breakfast-service of pink-and-white china, glistening +plate, and crimson roses, standing out in pleasant relief upon the +snowy damask.</p> + +<p>"Beyond question, madame has a knack of making herself comfortable. I +have seldom seen a cosier retreat on a broiling summer's day, and in +this dusty,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[37]</a></span> dirty town. She has not breakfasted yet, nor, except for +my cup of coffee, have I. I will do myself the pleasure of joining +her. A cutlet and a glass of cool claret will suit me admirably just +now, and we can talk as we eat."</p> + +<p>While he stood there, admiring cynically, Mrs. Wilders came in.</p> + +<p>She was in a loose morning wrapper of pale pink, and had seemingly +taken little trouble with her day's toilette as yet. Her <i>negligé</i> +dress hinted at hurry in leaving her room, and she addressed her +visitor in a hasty, impatient way.</p> + +<p>"What is this so urgent that you come intruding at such an unseemly +hour?"</p> + +<p>"You grow indolent, my dear madame. Why, it is half-past eleven."</p> + +<p>"I have not yet breakfasted."</p> + +<p>"So I see. I am delighted. No more have I."</p> + +<p>"Was it to ask yourself to breakfast that you came here this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely; another little matter brought me; but we can deal with +the two at the same time. Pray order them to serve: I am excessively +hungry."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders, without answering, pettishly pulled the bell.</p> + +<p>"Lay another cover," she told the man, "and bring wine with the +breakfast. You will want it, I suppose," she said to her guest; "I +never touch it in the morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How charmingly you manage! You have a special gift as a housewife. +What a delightful meal! I have seen nothing more refined in Paris."</p> + +<p>There was a delicious lobster-salad, a dish of cold cutlets and jelly, +and a great heap of strawberries with cream.</p> + +<p>"Now get to business," said Mrs. Wilders, in a snarling, ill-tempered +way; "let's have it out."</p> + +<p>"It's a pity you are out of humour this morning," observed Mr. Hobson, +with a provoking forbearance. "I have come to find fault."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders shrugged her shoulders, implying that she did not care.</p> + +<p>"It may seem ungracious, but I must take you to task seriously. How is +it you give me no news?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you all I hear; what more do you want?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal. Look here, Cyprienne, I am not to be put off with +stale, second-hand gossip—the echoes of the Clubs; vague, empty +rumours that are on everybody's tongue long before they come to me. I +must have fresh, brand-new intelligence, straight from the +fountain-head. You must get it for me, or—"</p> + +<p>The old frightened look which we have seen on Mrs. Wilders's face +before when brought into antagonism with this man returned to it, and +her voice was less firm, her manner less defiant, as she said—</p> + +<p>"Spare me your threats. You know I am most anxious to oblige you—to +help you."</p> + +<p>"You have put me off too long with these vague<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[39]</a></span> promises. I must have +something more tangible at once."</p> + +<p>"It is so difficult to find out anything."</p> + +<p>"Not if you go the right way to work. A woman of your attractions, +your cleverness, ought to be able to twist any man round her finger. +You have done it often enough already, goodness knows. Now, there's +old Faulks; when did you see him last?"</p> + +<p>"Not a week ago."</p> + +<p>"And you got nothing out of him? I thought he was devoted to you."</p> + +<p>"He is most attentive, most obliging, but still exceedingly wary. He +will talk about anything rather than business. I have tried him +repeatedly. I have introduced the subject of his nephew, of whom he is +now so proud."</p> + +<p>"Your enemy, you mean—that young McKay."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I thought that by bringing the conversation to the Crimea I +might squeeze out something important. But no! he is always as close +as an oyster."</p> + +<p>"He will be ready enough to talk about his dear nephew before long. +You may look out for some startling news about McKay."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said Mrs. Wilders, growing suddenly excited. "Your plan has +succeeded, then?"</p> + +<p>"Any day you may hear that he has been removed effectually, and for +ever, from your path. But for the moment that will keep. What presses +is that you should squeeze old Faulks. There is something that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[40]</a></span> must +know to-day, or to-morrow at latest. You must go and see him at once."</p> + +<p>"At his office?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"But on what pretence? I have never been there as yet. He has always +come here to lunch or dine. He is fond of a good dinner."</p> + +<p>"Ask him again."</p> + +<p>"But I could do that by letter. He may suspect me if I go to him +without some plausible excuse."</p> + +<p>"Trump up some story about his nephew. Only get to him; he will soon +give you an opening you can turn to account. I trust to your +cleverness for that; only lose no time."</p> + +<p>"Must I go to-day?"</p> + +<p>"This very afternoon; directly you leave the house."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_IV" id="CHAPTER_2_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>IN WHITEHALL.</h3> + + +<p>The Military Munitions' department was one of a dozen or more seated +at that period in and about Whitehall. Its ostensible functions, as +its title implied, were to supply warlike and other stores to the +British army when actively engaged. But as wars had been rare for +nearly half-a-century it had done more during that time towards +providing a number of worthy gentlemen with comfortable incomes than +in ministering to the wants of troops in the field.</p> + +<p>It was an office of good traditions: highly respectable, very +old-fashioned, slow moving, not to say dilatory, but tenacious of its +dignity as regards other departments, and obstinately wedded to its +own way of conducting the business of the country.</p> + +<p>The most prominent personage in the department for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[42]</a></span> some little time +before the outbreak of hostilities with Russia, and during the war, +was Mr. Rufus Faulks, brother to the Captain Faulks we met on board +the <i>Burlington Castle</i>, and also uncle to Stanislas McKay.</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks had entered the office as a lad, and, after long years of +patient service, had worked his way up through all the grades to the +very top of the permanent staff. He had no one over him now but the +statesman who, for the time being, was responsible for the department +in Parliament—a mere politician, perfectly raw in official routine, +who had the good taste and better sense to surrender himself blindly +to the guidance of Mr. Faulks. What could a bird of passage know of +the deep mysteries of procedure it took a life-time to learn?</p> + +<p>He was the true type and pattern of a Government official. A prim, +plethoric, middle-aged little man; always dressed very carefully; +walking on the tips of his toes; speaking precisely, with a priggish, +self-satisfied smirk, and giving his opinion, even on the weather, +with the air of a man who was secretly better informed than the rest +of the world.</p> + +<p>He was very punctual in his attendance at the office, passing the +threshold of the private house in a side-street near Whitehall, where +the department was lodged all by itself, every morning at eleven, and +doing the same thing every day at the same time with the most +praiseworthy, methodical precision. His first step was to deposit his +umbrella in one corner, his second to hang his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[43]</a></span> hat in another, his +third to take an old office-coat out of a bottom drawer in his desk, +substituting it for the shiny black frock-coat he invariably wore; +then he looked through his letters, selected all of a private and +confidential nature, and placing the morning's <i>Times</i> across his +knees deposited himself in an arm-chair near the fire. He was supposed +to be digesting the morning's correspondence, and no one during this +the first half-hour of his attendance would have ventured to intrude +upon him unsummoned.</p> + +<p>It was with a very black face, therefore, that when thus occupied upon +the morning that Mr. Hobson visited Mrs. Wilders he saw his own +private messenger enter the room.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Lightowlar? I have forbidden you to disturb me till +twelve."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir; very sorry, sir!" replied the messenger, who had +been confidential valet to a Cabinet Minister, and prided himself on +the extreme polish of his language and demeanour. "I am aware that you +have intimidated your disapprobation of unseasonable interruption, +but—"</p> + +<p>"Well, well! out with it, or take yourself off."</p> + +<p>"Sir 'Umphry, sir; he have just come to the office quite unforseen."</p> + +<p>Sir Humphrey Fothergill was the Parliamentary head of the office at +this time.</p> + +<p>"Sir Humphrey here! What an extraordinary thing!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>The proper time for the appearance of this great functionary was at 4 +p.m., on his way to the House and Mr. Faulks felt quite annoyed at the +departure from the ordinary rule.</p> + +<p>"Sir 'Umphry 'ave took us all aback, sir. His own messenger, Mr. +Sprott, was not in the way for the moment, and Sir 'Umphry expressed +himself in rather strong terms."</p> + +<p>"Serve Sprott right. But what has all that to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Sir 'Umphry, sir, 'ave sent, sir"—the man could hardly bring himself +to convey the message; "he 'ave sent, sir, to say he wishes to see you +at once."</p> + +<p>"Me? At this hour? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>This pestilent Sir Humphrey was upsetting every tradition of the +office.</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks again settled himself in his arm-chair, with the air of a +man who refused to move—out of his proper groove.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Faulks! Mr. Faulks!" Another unseemly intrusion. This time it was +Sprott, the chief messenger, flurried and frightened, no doubt, by +recent reproof. "Sir Humphrey's going on awful, sir; he's rung his +bell three times, and asked how long it took you to go upstairs."</p> + +<p>Sullenly, and sorely against his will, Mr. Faulks rose and joined his +chief.</p> + +<p>"I have asked for you several times," said Sir Humphrey Fothergill, a +much younger man than Mr. Faulks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[45]</a></span> new to official life, but a +promising party politician, with a great belief in himself and his +importance as a member of the House of Commons; "you must have come +late."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, I was here at my usual time; but in the thirty-five years +that I have had the honour to serve in the Military Munition +Department I never remember a Parliamentary chief who came so early as +you."</p> + +<p>"I shall come when I choose—in the middle of the night, if it suits +me or is necessary, as is more than probable in these busy times."</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks waved his hands and bowed stiffly, as much as to say that +Sir Humphrey was master of his actions, but that he need not expect to +see him.</p> + +<p>"You all want stirring up here," said Sir Humphrey abruptly. "It is +high time to give you a fillip."</p> + +<p>"I am not aware—" Mr. Faulks began, in indignant protest, but his +chief cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Did you read what happened in the House last night?"</p> + +<p>"I have only just glanced at the <i>Times</i>," replied Mr. Faulks, in a +melancholy voice, thinking how rudely his regular perusal of the great +journal had been interrupted that morning.</p> + +<p>"It's not pleasant reading. There was a set attack upon this +department, and they handled us very roughly, let me tell you. It made +my ears tingle."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have been abused cruelly—unfairly abused for the last twelve +months," said Mr. Faulks with a most injured air.</p> + +<p>"You richly deserved it. Amongst you the troops in the Crimea have +been dying from starvation, perishing from cold."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you that is distinctly unjust. I can assure you great +quantities of warm clothing were dispatched in due course."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but when?"</p> + +<p>"I can't give you the exact dates, but we have been advised of their +arrival these last few weeks."</p> + +<p>"Warm clothing in May? A very seasonable provision! But it's all of a +piece. How about those fuzes?"</p> + +<p>"To what do you refer, may I ask?" said Mr. Faulks very blandly; but +his blood was boiling at the indignity of being lectured thus by a +young man altogether new to the office.</p> + +<p>"It is all in this morning's <i>Times</i>. The siege is at a standstill; +the fuzes won't fit the shells. There are plenty of 10-inch fuzes, but +only 13-inch shells. Who is to blame for that?"</p> + +<p>"Our ordnance branch, I fear. But it shall be seen to: I will address +a communication to the head, calling his attention to the error."</p> + +<p>"And when will he get the letter?"</p> + +<p>"In the course of the next two or three days."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And his reply will take about the same time to reach you, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Probably: more or less."</p> + +<p>"Where is the office of the ordnance branch? In this house?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" replied Mr. Faulks, in a voice full of profound pity for the +lamentable ignorance of his chief. "It is at No. 14."</p> + +<p>"Just round the corner—in fact, half-a-dozen yards off?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, about that."</p> + +<p>"Well, look here, Mr. Faulks: you just put on your hat and go round +the corner and see the head of the ordnance branch, and settle all +this with him in the next five minutes, d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>"What, I? personally? That would be altogether against precedent and +contrary to the rules of the office. I really must decline to +introduce such a radical change."</p> + +<p>"You will obey my order, this very instant! It is utterly preposterous +to waste six days sending letters backwards and forwards about a +paltry matter that can be settled by word of mouth in as many minutes. +No wonder the troops have died like rotten sheep!"</p> + +<p>"I have been five-and-thirty years in this office—" began Mr. +Faulks.</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't bother me with your historical reminiscences," said Sir +Humphrey, cutting him short.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And never, during all that period—" went on Mr. Faulks, manfully.</p> + +<p>"—Have you done anything to-day that could be put off till +to-morrow? But now go and see about this at once—do you +understand?—and then come back to me; I have other matters to +arrange. We have news that a fresh expedition will shortly start for +Kertch, and we are requested to send out with all dispatch +considerable supplies of salt rations."</p> + +<p>"It will be necessary to refer to the Admiralty: they will require +proper notice."</p> + +<p>"You will get the rations within twenty-four hours, notice or no +notice. But we will discuss that by-and-by. Meanwhile, hurry off to +the ordnance branch."</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks went to the door, protesting and muttering to himself.</p> + +<p>"Stay! one word more! It is wrong of me, perhaps, to hint that your +zeal requires any stimulus, Mr. Faulks."</p> + +<p>"Hardly, I hope. I have endeavoured for the last five-and-thirty +years—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, we know all about that. But I have been told that you +looked for some special recognition of your services—a decoration, +the Order of the Bath—from the last Administration. Now, unless you +bestir yourself, don't expect anything of the kind from us."</p> + +<p>"I do not pretend to say that I have earned the favour of my +Sovereign; but in any case it would depend upon her most gracious +Majesty whether—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't make any mistake about it. You can only get the Bath through +the recommendation of your immediate superiors. There's stimulus, if +you want it. But don't let me detain you any more."</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks went slowly downstairs, and still more slowly resumed his +out-of-door frock-coat; he took up his hat and stick in the same +deliberate fashion, and started at a snail's pace for round the +corner.</p> + +<p>He drawled and dawdled through the business, which five minutes' sharp +talk could have ended, and it was nearly lunch-time before he returned +to his chief.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might have been to the Crimea and back!" said Sir Humphrey, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Matters of such moment are not to be disposed of out of hand. Haste +is certain to produce dangerous confusion, and it has been my unvaried +experience during five-and-thirty years—"</p> + +<p>"Which it has taken you to find the shortest way next door. But there! +let us get on with our work. Now, about this expedition to Kertch?"</p> + +<p>And Sir Humphrey proceeded to discuss and dispose of great questions +of supply in a prompt, off-hand way that both silenced and terrified +Mr. Faulks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_V" id="CHAPTER_2_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>MR. FAULKS TALKS.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Faulks was rather fond of good living, and, as a rule, he never +allowed official cares to interfere with his lunch, a meal brought in +on a tray from an eating-house in the Strand. To make a proper +selection from the bill of fare sent in every morning was a weighty +matter, taking precedence over any other work, however pressing.</p> + +<p>But to-day he scarcely enjoyed the haricot of lamb with new potatoes +and young peas that he found waiting, and slightly cold, when he went +downstairs to his own room.</p> + +<p>"For two pins I'd take my retirement; I can claim it; where would they +be then?"</p> + +<p>This estimable personage shared with thousands the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[51]</a></span> strange +superstition that the world cannot do without them.</p> + +<p>"This cook is falling off most terribly. The lamb is uneatable, the +potatoes are waxy, and the peas like pills. Ugh! I never made a worse +lunch!"</p> + +<p>A large cigar and the perusal of the long-neglected <i>Times</i> did not +pacify him much, and he was still fretting and fuming when his +messenger brought in a three-cornered note and asked if there was any +reply.</p> + +<p>"The lady, sir—a real lady, I should think—'ave brought it in her +own bruffam, and was most particular, sir, as you should 'ave it at +once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks took the letter and examined it carefully.</p> + +<p>"From that charming woman, Mrs. Wilders, my cousin, or rather Stanny's +cousin; but his relations are mine. I am his uncle; some day, if he +lives, I shall be uncle to an earl. They will treat me better perhaps +when I have all the Essendine interest at my back. Whippersnappers +like this Fothergill will scarcely dare to snub me then. A good lad +Stanislas; I always liked him. I wish he was back amongst us, and not +at that horrid war."</p> + +<p>"The lady, sir, is most anxious, sir, to have a answer," put in the +messenger, recalling Mr. Faulks's attention to the letter.</p> + +<p>"Ah! to be sure. One moment," and he read the note:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[52]</a></span>—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Cannot I see you?" it said. "I am oppressed with fears for our dear +Stanislas. Do please spare me a few minutes of your valuable time.</p> + +<p class="quotdate"> +"<span class="smcap">Cyprienne</span> W."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I will go down to her at once, say." And, seizing his hat, Mr. Faulks +followed the messenger into the street, where he found Mrs. Wilders in +her tiny brougham, at the door of the office.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how good of you!" she said, putting out a little hand in a +perfectly-fitting grey glove. "I would not disturb you for worlds, but +I was so anxious."</p> + +<p>"What has happened? Nothing serious, I trust?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I cannot say. I am terribly upset."</p> + +<p>"Do tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"Of course; that is why I came. But it will take some time. Will you +get into the carriage? Are you going anywhere? I can take you, and +tell you upon the road."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot leave just at present." He had misgivings as to +his arbitrary young chief. "But if I might suggest, and if you will +honour me so far, will you not come upstairs to my room?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! willingly, if you will allow me."</p> + +<p>This was all that she wished. Very soon, escorted by her obsequious +friend, she found herself in his arm-chair, pouring forth a long and +intricate, not to say incomprehensible, story about Stanislas McKay. +She had heard, she said—it was not necessary to say how--<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[53]</a></span>that they +meant to send him on some secret expedition, full of danger, she +understood, and she thought it such a pity—so wrong, so unfair!</p> + +<p>"He ought really to return to England and take up his proper +position," she went on. "Lord Essendine wishes it, and so, I am sure, +must you."</p> + +<p>"No one will be more pleased to welcome him back than myself," said +Mr. Faulks. "I should be glad indeed of his countenance and support +just now. They do not treat me too well here."</p> + +<p>"Can it be possible!" she exclaimed, in a voice of tenderest interest. +"You whom I have always thought one of the most useful, estimable men +in the public service."</p> + +<p>"Things are not what they were, my dear lady; they do not appreciate +me here. They deny me the smallest, the most trifling recognition. +Would you believe it that, after five-and-thirty years of +uninterrupted service, they still hesitate to give me a decoration? I +ought to have had the Companionship of the Bath at the last change of +Ministry."</p> + +<p>"Of course you ought; I have often heard Lord Essendine say so."</p> + +<p>"Has he now, really?" asked Mr. Faulks, much flattered.</p> + +<p>"Frequently," went on Mrs. Wilders, fluently, availing herself readily +of the opening he had given her. "I am sure he has only to know that +you are disappointed in this matter and he will give you the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[54]</a></span> warmest +support. You know he belongs to the party now in power, and a word +from him—"</p> + +<p>"If he will deign to interest himself on my behalf the matter is, of +course, settled."</p> + +<p>"And he shall, rely on me for that."</p> + +<p>"How can I ever thank you sufficiently, dear lady, for your most +gracious, most generous encouragement? If I can serve you in any way, +command me."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can oblige me in a little matter I have much at heart."</p> + +<p>"Only name it," he cried, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Come and dine with me to-night in Thistle Grove."</p> + +<p>"Is that all? I accept with enthusiasm."</p> + +<p>"Only a small party: four at the most. You know I am still in deepest +mourning. My poor dear general—" she dropped her voice and her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Faulks, sympathetically; "you have known great sorrows. +But you must not brood, dear lady: we should struggle with grief." He +took her hand, and looked at her in a kindly, pitying way.</p> + +<p>The moment was ill-timed for interruption, but the blame was Sir +Humphrey's, who now sent the messenger with a fresh and more imperious +summons for the attendance of Mr. Faulks.</p> + +<p>He got up hurriedly, nervously, saying—</p> + +<p>"I must leave you, dear lady; there are matters of great urgency to be +dealt with to-day."</p> + +<p>"No apologies: it's my fault for trespassing here. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[55]</a></span> will run away. +To-night—do not forget me, at eight," and Mrs. Wilders took her +departure.</p> + +<p>The little house in Thistle Grove wore its most smiling aspect at +evening, with its soft-shaded lamps, pretty hangings, and quantities +of variegated, sweet-smelling flowers; it was radiant with light, full +of perfume, bright in colour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders's guests were three—Mrs. Jones, a staid, hard-featured, +middle-aged lady in deep black, an officer's widow like herself, as +she explained, who lived a few doors down, and was an acquaintance of +the last month or two, Mr. Hobson, and Mr. Faulks.</p> + +<p>The dinner was almost studied in simplicity, but absolutely perfect of +its kind. Clear soup, salmon cutlets, a little joint, salad, and quail +in vine-leaves. The only wine was a sound medium claret, except at +dessert, when, after the French fashion, Mrs. Wilders gave champagne.</p> + +<p>Through dinner the talk had been light and trivial, but with dessert +and coffee it gradually grew more serious, and touched upon the topics +of the day.</p> + +<p>"These must be trying times for you Government officials," said Mr. +Hobson, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," replied Mr. Faulks, with a deep sigh. "I often feel +that life is hardly worth having."</p> + +<p>"The public service is no bed of roses," remarked Mrs. Jones. "It +killed my poor dear husband."</p> + +<p>"It is so disheartening to slave day after day as you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[56]</a></span> do," went on +Mrs. Wilders to Mr. Faulks, "and get no thanks."</p> + +<p>"Very much the other thing!" cried Mr. Hobson; "you are about the best +abused people in the world, I should say, just now."</p> + +<p>"It is hard on us, for I assure you we do our best. We are constantly, +uninterruptedly at work. I never know a moment that I may not be +wanted—that some special messenger may not be after me. I have to +leave my address so that they can find me wherever I am, and at any +time."</p> + +<p>"Is it so now?" asked Mrs. Wilders. "Cannot you even give me the +pleasure of your society for an hour or two without its being known?"</p> + +<p>"I do it in this way, dear lady. I leave a sealed envelope on my hall +table, which is only opened in case of urgency."</p> + +<p>"You don't expect to be summoned to-night, I hope?" inquired the fair +hostess.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say; it is quite probable."</p> + +<p>"There are, perhaps, important movements intended in the Crimea?" +asked Mr. Hobson, as he picked his strawberries and prepared himself a +sauce of sugar and cream.</p> + +<p>"You have heard so?" replied Mr. Faulks.</p> + +<p>"There was something in the <i>Times</i> this morning from their special +correspondent. Some new expedition was talked of."</p> + +<p>"They ought to be all shot, these correspondents,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[57]</a></span> said Mr. Faulks, +decisively. "They permit themselves to canvass the conduct and +character of persons of our position with a freedom that is +intolerable."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Mr. Hobson, "but as one of the British public, a +taxpayer and bearer of the public burden, I feel grateful to these +newspaper gentlemen for seeing that our money is properly spent."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you commend them," said Mr. Faulks, in a way that +implied much resentment.</p> + +<p>"Well, but without them we should hear of nothing that is going on. +This new expedition, for instance, which I have a shrewd suspicion +covers some deep design."</p> + +<p>"You think so, do you? On what ground, pray?" said Mr. Faulks, with +the slight sneer of superior knowledge.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Times</i> man hints as much. There has long been a rumour of some +change in the plan of operations, and he seems to be right in his +conjecture."</p> + +<p>"He knows nothing at all about it—how can he?" said Mr. Faulks, +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"You must forgive my differing with you. It is not my business to say +how he obtains his information, but I have generally found that he is +right. Now, this great expedition—"</p> + +<p>"Is all moonshine!" cried Mr. Faulks, losing his temper, and thrown +off his guard. "It's quite a small affair—a trip round the Sea of +Azof, and the reduction of Kertch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The old affair revived, in fact."</p> + +<p>"Neither more nor less. There is no intention at the present moment of +drawing any large detachment from the siege. On the contrary, every +effort is being strained to bring it to an end."</p> + +<p>"Quite right too; it ought to be vigorously prosecuted—attack should +follow attack."</p> + +<p>"We shall hear of one or more before long," went on Mr. Faulks, +growing more and more garrulous. "Our advanced trenches are creeping +very near, and I expect any day to hear that the French have stormed +the Mamelon, and our people the Quarries."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? That is very interesting. And we shall take them—do you +think?"</p> + +<p>"We must. The attacking columns will be of great strength, and the +attack will be preceded by a tremendous cannonade."</p> + +<p>"So we may expect great news in the next few days?" said Mrs. Wilders, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"More bloodshed!" added Mrs. Jones, with a deep sigh. "This terrible +war!"</p> + +<p>"You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs," said Mr. Hobson, +sententiously. "The more terrible a war is, the sooner it is ended."</p> + +<p>"We are getting very ghastly in our talk," said Mrs. Wilders. "Suppose +we go into the drawing-room and have some tea."</p> + +<p>As they passed out of the dining-room, Mr. Hobson managed to whisper a +few words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have squeezed him dry: that was all I wanted to know. I need not +stay any longer, I think."</p> + +<p>"Who knows? His special messenger may come down with the very latest. +If so, you ought to be able to extract that from him too."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilders spoke these words carelessly; but, as often happens, they +correctly foretold what presently occurred.</p> + +<p>When they were all seated cosily around the tea-table, Mrs. Wilders's +man brought in a great dispatch upon a salver.</p> + +<p>"For Mr. Faulks," he said, and with an air of the greatest importance +the hard-worked, indispensable official tore open the cover.</p> + +<p>It contained a few hurried lines from Sir Humphrey Fothergill to the +following effect:—</p> + +<p>"A telegram has just been received from Lord Raglan. It contains +painful news for you; but I thought it best to let you have it at +once."</p> + +<p>He opened the telegram with trembling hands and read—</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, Mr. McKay, of the quartermaster-general's staff, ventured +through the enemy's lines in the direction of the Tchernaya to make a +special reconnaissance. He unfortunately was captured. I sent a flag +of truce into Sebastopol, asking that he might be exchanged, but have +been peremptorily refused. Gortschakoff asserts that he is a Russian +subject and was taken red-handed as a spy. He is to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[60]</a></span> be executed +immediately. Will renew request with strong protest, but fear there is +no hope."</p> + +<p>Mr. Faulks groaned heavily and let the telegram fall on the ground.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" asked Mrs. Wilders, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"You were right—too right. That poor boy—"</p> + +<p>"Stanislas?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; my poor nephew has fallen into the hands of these bloodthirsty +Russians, who are resolved to execute him as a traitor and a spy."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[61]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_VI" id="CHAPTER_2_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>MARIQUITA'S QUEST.</h3> + + +<p>Hyde's unfortunate affair with the sailor had ended in a broken rib +and a dislocated arm. He was taken back senseless to the camp of the +Royal Picts, and for some days required the closest care. It was +nearly a week before he so far recovered himself as to be able to give +any account of what had occurred, and longer before he remembered +accurately what was taking him to headquarters at the time of the +accident.</p> + +<p>It flashed across him quite suddenly, and with something of a shock, +that while he lay there helpless his friend McKay was still in danger.</p> + +<p>"When shall I be able to get about again?" he asked the doctor, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"You won't be fit for duty, if that's what you're driving at, for many +a long day to come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can go about with my arm in a sling. I am beginning to feel +perfectly well otherwise."</p> + +<p>"What's the good of a soldier with his arm in a sling? No: as soon as +you are fit to move I shall have you sent down to Scutari."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to go: I had much rather stay here with the old +corps."</p> + +<p>He was thinking of the business he had still in hand.</p> + +<p>"You will have to obey orders, anyhow, so make up your mind to go."</p> + +<p>The regimental surgeon of the Royal Picts was a morose old Scotchman, +very obstinate and intolerant of opposition. What he said he stuck to, +and Hyde knew that he must prepare to leave the Crimea in a short +time, probably before he was strong enough to go in person to +headquarters and find out McKay.</p> + +<p>It would be necessary, therefore, to find some other messenger, and, +after considering what was best to be done, he resolved to beg Colonel +Blythe to come and see him, intending to make him his confidant.</p> + +<p>"Well, Rupert," said the Colonel—they were alone together—"this is a +bad business. Macinlay tells me you won't be fit for duty for months. +He is going to send you at once before a medical board."</p> + +<p>"It is very aggravating, Colonel, as I particularly wished to be here +for the next few weeks.</p> + +<p>"To be in at the death, I suppose? We are bound to take the place at +the next attack."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope you may. But it is not that. Our friend McKay is in imminent +danger."</p> + +<p>"What is the nature of the danger?"</p> + +<p>"He is pursued by the relentless hate of an infamous woman: one who +has never yet spared any who dared to thwart or oppose her."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean, Hyde?" The colonel thought the old +sergeant was wandering in his mind. "There are no women out here +except Mother Charcoal, and a few French <i>vivandières</i>. How can any of +them threaten McKay?"</p> + +<p>"It is as I say, colonel. By-and-by I will tell you everything. But +let me implore you to find out McKay at once and bring him to me. I +cannot, you see, go to him."</p> + +<p>"Is this very urgent?"</p> + +<p>"A matter of life and death, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"I will order a horse at once. It is all very mysterious and +extraordinary; but then you have been a mystery, Rupert Hyde, a riddle +and a puzzle, ever since I have known you."</p> + +<p>"It will all be unravelled some day, colonel, never fear; but lose no +time, let me beg;" and, thus adjured, the colonel presently mounted +his horse and galloped over to headquarters.</p> + +<p>He arrived there the day after McKay's excursion into the Russian +lines. The young staff-officer was still absent, and fears were +already entertained as to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[64]</a></span> safety, although it was not positively +known as yet that he had come to harm.</p> + +<p>Let us leave Colonel Blythe and other friends exchanging anxious +conjectures as to McKay's fate and return to Mariquita, whose +misgivings had steadily increased from the day she had last seen Hyde.</p> + +<p>He had promised she should see him again, and, perhaps, Stanislas, +without delay. Yet this was more than a week since. What had become of +the old soldier? Had he fulfilled his mission of warning, or had he +been involved in the dire intrigues that threatened her lover?</p> + +<p>Her lover, too; her Stanislas—to save whom she had come so far, +braving so many dangers, and at the peril of her maidenly +self-respect—had anything happened to him?</p> + +<p>The terrible uncertainty was crushing her. She must know something, +even the worst, or her apprehensions, ever present and hourly +increasing, would kill her.</p> + +<p>To whom could she turn in this time of cruel suspense? Hyde had +deserted her, seemingly; in spite of her heartfelt anxiety she could +not bring herself to approach McKay.</p> + +<p>One other man there was; that villain, Benito Villegas—the source, in +truth, of all her trouble—might give her news. Bad news, possibly, +but still news, if only she could lay hands on him. Where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[65]</a></span> and how was +he hiding? Every effort to find him had been fruitless hitherto.</p> + +<p>At Valetta Joe's they knew no such name, so they told her when she +inquired cautiously for Benito from some of the loafers hanging about +the shop.</p> + +<p>Yet that was the place to which he was to proceed on arrival. The +letter she had picked up in Bombardier Lane said so. He must be +hiding, or in disguise; and now, when her anxiety for her beloved +Stanislas was at its highest pitch, she was more than ever resolved to +find out somehow what Benito was doing.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, when business was rather slack at Mother Charcoal's, +she seized a chance of visiting the hut-town.</p> + +<p>"Any work?" she asked, in Spanish, of Valetta Joe himself, whom she +met at the door of his shanty.</p> + +<p>"What can you do? Where do you come from? Spain?" replied the baker in +the same tongue.</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Malaga. I can do anything—try me."</p> + +<p>"Can you sell bread through the camp? I am a man short, and could take +you on, perhaps, until he is better. Come down below, and I will give +you a basketful to hawk about."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to tell them at the canteen—Mother Charcoal's—that I +am going to leave."</p> + +<p>"That won't do. You must come at once if you come at all. Which will +you do?"</p> + +<p>While she still hesitated, a voice from the subter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[66]</a></span>ranean regions at +the end of the shop fell upon her ear. Her heart gave a great jump at +the sound—it was Benito's. "Joe! Joe!" he was crying, in feeble +accents.</p> + +<p>"It's take it or leave it. There are plenty of your sort about. Well, +what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I accept," said Mariquita, eagerly. "When shall I begin work?"</p> + +<p>"Now, this minute. Come down and help me to get a batch of bread out +of the oven."</p> + +<p>They passed down into the cellar by a short ladder, and Mariquita +found herself in a dimly-lighted cavernous den, hot and stifling, at +one end of which glowed the grate below the oven.</p> + +<p>"Joe! Joe!" repeated Benito's voice, and Mariquita, with difficulty, +made out his figure lying on a heap of rags in a corner of the cellar.</p> + +<p>"Well?" answered Joe, roughly, as soon as he had pointed out the +bread-trays and desired her to get them in order. "What's wrong with +you now? You are always groaning and calling out."</p> + +<p>"Water!" asked Benito, piteously. "This place is like a furnace. I am +suffering torments from raging thirst and this cruel wound. Accursed +Englishman! may I live to repay him!"</p> + +<p>"You will have to hurry and get well, or the Russians will save you +the trouble," remarked Joe.</p> + +<p>"That is my only consolation. It was I who gave him to them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although bending busily over her task, Mariquita felt her heart beat +faster and faster. These words, which she now overheard through such a +strange chance, clearly referred to her lover.</p> + +<p>"Will they hang him, do you think?" asked Benito.</p> + +<p>"As sure as the sun breeds flies. We have done our business too well +to give him a chance of escape."</p> + +<p>"Would that I might hold the rope, that I might see his agony, his +last convulsions! That I might myself revenge the tortures he has made +me bear!"</p> + +<p>And Benito sank back upon his miserable bed, groaning with pain.</p> + +<p>"Don't whine like that, you miserable cur!" said Joe, brutally. "It's +bad enough to have you here at all, without your disturbing the whole +place. Why did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Where else could I go? I never expected to get so far. I was faint +from loss of blood, and in frightful pain. I thought I should die as I +crawled along."</p> + +<p>"Better you had than bring me into trouble, as you will if the +provost-marshal finds you here."</p> + +<p>"It is cowardly of you to ill-treat and upbraid me. Take care! I am +helpless now, but by-and-by, when I am well and strong, you shall +suffer for your cruelty."</p> + +<p>"What! you threaten me? But there, it is idle to waste words on such a +wretched rogue; I have other work to do. Now, young imp!" cried Joe, +turning to Mariquita, "stir yourself, and let us get out this batch of +bread."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>The conversation which she had overheard, conveying as it did the +confirmation of her worst fears, had agitated Mariquita exceedingly, +but she knew that she must control her emotion, and arouse no +suspicions in the minds of these villains. Benito, wounded, and in +desperate case, was in no position to recognise her, and Joe was, of +course, completely in the dark as to whom he had admitted within his +shop.</p> + +<p>The work in the cellar was not completed and the bread carried +upstairs for an hour or more, during which time Mariquita was able to +think over and decide what she would do. She had matured her plan when +they got upstairs.</p> + +<p>"Pay me!" she said, saucily, to Valetta Joe. "I shan't stop here."</p> + +<p>"Pay you, vile imp? Why, I only took you on trial!"</p> + +<p>"Pay me!" she repeated. "You shan't cheat me."</p> + +<p>"I owe you nothing. Be off out of this or you shall feel the weight of +my hand."</p> + +<p>"Pay me, you swindling old rogue!" shouted Mariquita, in a shrill +voice. "I won't go till I get my rights."</p> + +<p>"You won't!" cried Joe, as he seized her roughly by the collar and +dragged her towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Villain! Thief! Murder! Help, help! He is killing me!" cried +Mariquita, now at the top of her voice, and this frenzied appeal had +the exact effect she hoped. A crowd of camp-followers quickly +gathered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[69]</a></span> around the door of the shanty, and with it came a couple of +stalwart assistants of the provost-marshal.</p> + +<p>"What's all this?" asked one of them, in a peremptory tone. "Leave +that lad alone, you old rascal!"</p> + +<p>"What's he doing to you?" asked the other.</p> + +<p>"He won't pay me my wages," said Mariquita, in a whining, piteous +voice. "He owes me three shillings."</p> + +<p>"I don't, you lying little ragamuffin! I only took you on trial."</p> + +<p>"He does; and he was beating me, ill-using me," went on Mariquita.</p> + +<p>"We can't have no disturbance here," said one of the provost-marshal's +men. "You must come before the provost, both of you; he'll settle your +case in a brace of shakes. Bill, you bring the old man; I'll take +charge of the youngster."</p> + +<p>And the two guardians of order marched their prisoners through the +hut-town to a wooden building at the end, where Major Shervinton dealt +out a simple, rough-and-ready justice to the turbulent characters he +ruled.</p> + +<p>This was precisely what Mariquita had hoped for. What she sought at +all hazards was to gain speech of the provost-marshal.</p> + +<p>They had to wait for him half-an-hour, and when he appeared there were +other cases to be dealt with first.</p> + +<p>When it came to Valetta Joe's turn, he stoutly denied the charge of +defrauding and ill-using the lad.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the wages, sir," said one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[70]</a></span> assistants, "but +we caught him in the act of cuffing the boy."</p> + +<p>"What does he owe you, my lad?" asked Major Shervinton.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied Mariquita, trembling and in very imperfect English. +"I only wanted to get him here to denounce him as a friend of the +Russians and a spy."</p> + +<p>"There's not a word of truth in what he says!" cried Joe, looking at +her with open-mouthed astonishment.</p> + +<p>"We have long had our eye upon you, my friend, you know that; and I +shall inquire into this more closely."</p> + +<p>"At this moment there is a man—his name is Benito Villegas—in the +bakehouse below the shop," said Mariquita. "He is wounded; you will +find him there. Go and seize him; make him tell you what he has done +with the English officer, Mr. McKay."</p> + +<p>"Mr. McKay!" said the provost-marshal, deeply interested at once. "He +is absent—missing! Have you heard anything of him or his fate?"</p> + +<p>"Make Benito tell you. He has betrayed him into the Russians' hands."</p> + +<p>"This is very important intelligence. What you say shall be verified +at once. See to the prisoners, one of you, and let some one come with +me to Joe's shop."</p> + +<p>Major Shervinton made short work of Benito.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look here, my fine fellow, you had better make a clean breast of it +all. What have you done with Mr. McKay?"</p> + +<p>Benito shook his head, groaned, and pointed to his wounded arm.</p> + +<p>"I see you have been hit; but that won't prevent your talking. Tell me +exactly what happened—it's your only chance; if you don't, we will +wait till your arm is healed, and then hang you here in the middle of +the hut-town. Come, speak out."</p> + +<p>"You will spare my life if I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps: if it is the truth. We shall have means of finding out. But +look sharp!"</p> + +<p>In feeble, faltering accents Benito told his story, laying stress on +the villainy of others and making light of the part he had himself +played.</p> + +<p>While the provost-marshal was examining the trembling wretch his +assistants had been making a thorough search of the shop. They came +presently to their chief, laden with a number of papers: letters, +passes signed by Gortschakoff, and other documents of a compromising +character, plainly proving that this place had long been the centre of +a cunningly-devised secret correspondence with the enemy.</p> + +<p>"There's enough to hang you both, and perhaps others too, at home. As +for you," he turned to Benito, "I will have you removed to the +Balaclava hospital. You will be better looked after there, and we +shall have you under our hands when required. Your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[72]</a></span> accomplice, the +commander-in-chief will deal with, I trust, very summarily; we have +overwhelming proofs of his guilt."</p> + +<p>Major Shervinton returned to his office, where the prisoners anxiously +awaited his verdict.</p> + +<p>"Take Joe away, and put a double sentry over him. I shall ride over to +headquarters to report the whole case."</p> + +<p>"Oh, good, kind, beneficent sir," began Joe, wringing his hands, +"spare me! There no word of truth in all this. I done nothing, I +swear. I unjustly accused. I—"</p> + +<p>"March him out," said Shervinton. "Such vermin as you must be +ruthlessly destroyed.</p> + +<p>"And the lad, sir?" asked an assistant.</p> + +<p>"To be sure; I had forgotten. Well, boy, you have behaved uncommonly +well. What shall we do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she faltered out, "only save him—save Mr. McKay."</p> + +<p>"Mr. McKay! Do you know him? What—when—?" asked Major Shervinton, +greatly surprised at the agonised accents in which Mariquita spoke, +yet more, seeing that her eyes were filled with tears. "Who are you? +Where do you come from?" he went on, examining the little creature +attentively.</p> + +<p>He noticed now for the first time the delicate skin, the clear-cut, +regular features, the lustrous, eyes; he remarked the fragile form, +the shy, shrinking manner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[73]</a></span> of the lad, who stood diffidently, +deprecatingly, before him, and he said to himself, "What an +exceedingly handsome boy! Boy!" he repeated, and now suddenly a doubt +crossed his mind as to the proper sex of the young person who evinced +such a tender interest in Stanislas McKay.</p> + +<p>"Some secret romance, probably," he went on, smiling at the thought, +but quickly changing his mood as he remembered how tragic its end was +likely to be.</p> + +<p>"I will do all I can to save him, rest assured," he went on aloud, +"and if we recover him from the clutches of the enemy he shall +certainly know how much he owes to you."</p> + +<p>The vivid blush that overspread her cheeks at these words betrayed her +completely.</p> + +<p>"But, my poor child," went on the provost-marshal, in a kindly, +sympathetic voice, "what are we to do with you? It was madness, +surely, for you to venture here. Have you any friends? Let me see you +safe back to them. Where do you live?"</p> + +<p>Mariquita in a low voice explained that she was employed at Mother +Charcoal's.</p> + +<p>"Does she know about you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," acknowledged Mariquita, in a still lower, almost inaudible +voice.</p> + +<p>"She is a good old soul, and may be trusted to take care of you. +Still, her canteen is no place for such as you. You shall stay with +her, but only till we can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[74]</a></span> send you on to one of the troopships with +female nurses on board."</p> + +<p>Having thus decided, Shervinton himself escorted Mariquita to Mother +Charcoal's, and then rode on to headquarters.</p> + +<p>He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he +brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay.</p> + +<p>"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard +Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle +Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's.</p> + +<p>"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal, +and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion.</p> + +<p>"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We +have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince +Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare +his life."</p> + +<p>"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But, +should McKay be sacrificed, she—his murderess—must not escape," said +Blythe, hotly.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir +Richard.</p> + +<p>"One of my officers—Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe +repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[75]</a></span> man to pursue her—to +bring her to judgment for her villanies. There is enough in these +papers to convict her. But he could hardly leave the Crimea just now."</p> + +<p>"He happens at this moment to be going down to Scutari, on sick leave: +he could easily go on."</p> + +<p>"Is he strong enough?"</p> + +<p>"He is gaining strength daily; it is only a wounded arm."</p> + +<p>"That will be best. I will arrange with Lord Raglan to give him leave, +provided he will accept the mission."</p> + +<p>Without further delay Blythe went back to his camp and told Hyde all +that had occurred.</p> + +<p>"Go! Of course I will go. This very day, if the doctor will let me. I +will unmask her; I will spoil her game. If I cannot save Stanislas, at +least she shall not benefit by her crime."</p> + +<p>"You are sure you can find her?"</p> + +<p>"Trust me! People in her position are easily found. The first Court +Guide will give you her address. She holds her head high, and must pay +the penalty of greatness."</p> + +<p>The prospect of starting soon for England on such an errand seemed to +restore Hyde to energy and strength.</p> + +<p>"Not fit to travel!" he said to the doctor, who still expressed some +doubts on that head. "Why, I am fit for anything."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man! You won't be able to use your arm for weeks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shan't want it. My head's sound and clear; that's the chief thing. +The moment I get my leave and my orders, I'm off."</p> + +<p>They gave Hyde a passage home in the <i>Himalaya</i>, a man-of-war +transport, and at that time one of the swiftest steamers afloat. At +the most, the journey would not occupy more than twelve days or a +fortnight. He might not be able or in time to do much for Stanislas in +his present peril, but he at least hoped that retribution might follow +fast on the betrayal of his friend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[77]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_VII" id="CHAPTER_2_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>INSIDE THE FORTRESS.</h3> + + +<p>It is time to return to Stanislas McKay, whose life, forfeited under +the ruthless laws of a semi-barbarous power, still hung by a thread.</p> + +<p>He had been taken into Sebastopol by his escort at a rapid pace. It +was a ride of half-a-dozen miles, no more, and the greater part of it, +when once they regained the Tchernaya, followed the low ground that +margins both sides of the river.</p> + +<p>McKay could see plainly the English cavalry vedettes in the plain; +but, fast bound as he was, it was impossible for him to make any +signal to his friends. It was as well that he could not try, for he +would certainly have paid the penalty with his life.</p> + +<p>They watched him very closely, these wild, unkempt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[78]</a></span> half-savage +horsemen; watched him as though he were a captive animal—a beast of +prey which might at any time break loose and rend them.</p> + +<p>But the rough uncivilised Cossacks of the Don were not bad fellows +after all.</p> + +<p>Although they at first looked askance at him when he spoke to them, +these simple boors were presently won over by the distress and +sufferings of their prisoner.</p> + +<p>McKay was in great pain; his bonds cut into his flesh, he was +exhausted by the night's work, dejected at the ruin of his enterprise, +uneasy as to his fate.</p> + +<p>No food had crossed his lips for many hours, his throat was parched +and dry under the fierce heat of the sun.</p> + +<p>He begged piteously for water, speaking in Russian, and using the most +familiar style of address. The men who rode on each side of him soon +thawed as he called them "his little fathers," and implored them to +give him a drink.</p> + +<p>"Presently, at the first halt," they said.</p> + +<p>And so he had to battle with his thirst while they still hurried on.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the officer in command called a halt—they had now reached +the picket-house at Tractir Bridge—and rode out to the flank of the +party. He seemed perturbed, anxious in his mind, and raised his hand +to shroud his eyes as he peered eagerly across the plain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here!" he shouted, rising in his stirrups and turning round. "Bring +up the prisoner."</p> + +<p>McKay was led to his side.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of that?" asked the officer haughtily, speaking +in French, as he pointed to a cloud of dust in the distant plain.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell you?" replied McKay, shortly: but in his own mind he +was certain that this was the contemplated extension of the French and +Sardinian lines towards the Tchernaya. For a moment his heart beat +high with the hope that this movement might help him to escape.</p> + +<p>"You know, you rogue! Tell me, or it will be the worse for you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied McKay stoutly; "and if I did I should not tell +you."</p> + +<p>"Dirty spy! You would have sold us for a price, do the same now by the +others. You owe them no allegiance; besides, you are in our power. +Tell me, and I will let you go."</p> + +<p>"Your bribe is wasted on me. I am a British officer—"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Officer?" and the fellow raised his whip to strike McKay, but +happily held his hand.</p> + +<p>"Here! take him back," he said angrily, and McKay was again placed in +the midst of the party.</p> + +<p>He renewed his entreaties for a drink, and a Cossack, taking pity on +him, offered him a canteen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was full of <i>vodkhi</i>, an ardent spirit beloved by the Russian +peasant, half-a-dozen drops of which McKay managed to gulp down, but +they nearly burned his throat.</p> + +<p>"Water! water!" he asked again.</p> + +<p>And the Cossack, evidently surprised at his want of taste, substituted +the simpler fluid; but the charitable act drew down upon him the +displeasure of his chief.</p> + +<p>"How dare you! without my permission?" cried the officer, as he dashed +the water from McKay's lips, and punished the offending Cossack by a +few sharp strokes with his whip.</p> + +<p>"Come, fall in!" the officer next said. "It won't do to linger here." +And the party resumed their ride, still in the valley, but as far as +possible from the stream.</p> + +<p>Every yard McKay's hopes sank lower and lower; every yard took him +further from his friends, who were advancing, he felt certain, towards +the river. Large bodies of troops, columns of infantry on the march, +covered by cavalry and accompanied by guns, were now perfectly visible +in the distant plain.</p> + +<p>"Look to your front!" cried the Russian officer peremptorily to +Stanislas, as he stole a furtive, lingering glance back. "Faster! Spur +your horses, or we may be picked up or shot."</p> + +<p>All hope was gone now. This was the end of the Tchernaya valley. Up +there opposite were the Inkerman heights, the sloping hills that a few +months before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[81]</a></span> McKay had helped to hold. This paved, much-worn +causeway was the "Sappers' Road," leading round the top of the harbour +into the town.</p> + +<p>No one stopped the Cossacks.</p> + +<p>They passed a picket in a half-ruined guard-house, the roof of which, +its door, walls, and windows, were torn and shattered in the fierce +and frequent bombardments. Even at that moment a round shot crashed +over their heads, took the ground further off, and bounded away. The +sentry asked no questions. Some one looked out and waved his hand in +greeting to the Cossack officer, who replied, pointing ahead, as the +party rode rapidly on.</p> + +<p>Time pressed; it promised to be a warm morning. The besiegers' fire, +intended no doubt to distract attention from the movements in the +Tchernaya, was constantly increasing.</p> + +<p>"What dog's errand is this they sent me on?" growled the Cossack +officer, as a shell burst close to him and killed one of the escort.</p> + +<p>"Faster! faster!"</p> + +<p>And still, harassed by shot and shell, they pushed on.</p> + +<p>All this time the road led by the water's edge; but presently they +left it, and, crossing the head of a creek, mounted a steep hill, +which brought them to the Karabel suburb, as it was called, a detached +part of the main town, now utterly wrecked and ruined by the +besiegers' fire.</p> + +<p>The Cossack officer made his way to a large barrack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[82]</a></span> occupying a +central elevated position, and dismounted at the principal doorway.</p> + +<p>"Is it thou, Stoschberg?" cried a friend who came out to meet him. +"Here, in Sebastopol?"</p> + +<p>"To my sorrow. Where is the general? I have news for him. The enemy +are moving in force upon the Tchernaya."</p> + +<p>"Ha! is it so? And that has brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"That, and the escort of yonder villain—a rascally spy, whom we +caught last night in our lines."</p> + +<p>"Bring him along too; the general may wish to question him."</p> + +<p>McKay was unbound, ordered to dismount, and then, still under escort, +was marched into the building. It was roofless, but an inner chamber +had been constructed—a cellar, so to speak—under the ground-floor, +with a roof of its own of rammed earth many feet thick, supported by +heavy beams. This was one of the famous casemates invented by +Todleben, impervious to shot and shell, and affording a safe shelter +to the troops.</p> + +<p>McKay was halted at the door or aperture, across which hung a common +yellow rug. The officers passed in, and their voices, with others, +were heard in animated discussion, which lasted some minutes; then the +one called Stoschberg came out and fetched McKay.</p> + +<p>He found himself in an underground apartment plainly but comfortably +furnished. In the centre, under a hanging lamp, was a large table +covered with maps and plans, and at the table sat a tall, handsome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[83]</a></span> +man, still in the prime of life. He was dressed in the usual long +plain great-coat of coarse drab cloth, but he had shoulder-straps of +broad gold lace, and his flat muffin cap lying in front of him was +similarly ornamented. This personage, an officer of rank evidently, +looked up sharply, and addressed McKay in French.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this movement in the Tchernaya?" he asked. +"You understand French of course? People of your trade speak all +tongues."</p> + +<p>"I speak French," replied McKay, "but English is my native tongue. I +am a British officer—"</p> + +<p>"I have told you of his pretensions, Excellency," interposed the +Cossack officer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! this is mere waste of time. What is the meaning of this +movement in the Tchernaya, I repeat? Tell me, and I may save your +life."</p> + +<p>"You have no right to ask me that question, and I decline to answer +it, whatever the risk."</p> + +<p>"An obstinate fellow, truly!" said the general, half to himself. "What +do you call yourself?"</p> + +<p>Then followed a conversation very similar to that which had taken +place at Tchorgoun.</p> + +<p>"I, too, knew your father," said the general, shaking his head. "It is +a bad case; I fear you must expect the worst."</p> + +<p>"I shall meet it as a soldier should," replied McKay, stoutly. "But I +shall always protest, even with my dying breath, that I have been +foully and shamefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[84]</a></span> used. I appeal to you, a Russian officer of +high rank, of whose name I am ignorant—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Todleben, of the Imperial Engineers."</p> + +<p>McKay started, and, notwithstanding the imminent peril of his +position, looked with interest upon the man who was known, even in the +British lines, as the heart and soul of the defence.</p> + +<p>"I appeal to you, sir," he pleaded, "as a general officer, a man of +high honour and known integrity, to protect me from outrage."</p> + +<p>"I can do nothing," replied Todleben, gravely, shrugging his +shoulders. "The Prince himself will decide. Take him away. I cannot +waste time with him if he is not disposed to speak. Let him be kept a +close prisoner until the Prince is ready to see him."</p> + +<p>The general then bent his head over his plans, and took no further +notice of McKay.</p> + +<p>Our hero was again marched into the yard, made to remount, re-bound, +and led off towards the principal part of the town. They now skirted +the ridge of the Karabel suburb, and began to descend. Half way down +they came upon a series of excavations in the side of the hill. These +were old caves that had been enlarged and strengthened with timbers +and earth. Each had its own doorway, a massive piece of palisading. +They were used as barracks, casemated, and practically safe during the +siege. Into one of these McKay was taken; it was empty; the men who +occupied it were on duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[85]</a></span> just then at the Creek Battery below. In one +corner lay a heap of straw and old blankets, filthy, and infested with +the liveliest vermin.</p> + +<p>One of the escort pointed to this uninviting bed, and told the +prisoner he might rest himself there. McKay, weary and disconsolate, +gladly threw himself upon this loathsome couch. They might shoot him +next morning, but for the time at least he could forget all his cares +in sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[86]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_VIII" id="CHAPTER_2_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE DEAD.</h3> + + +<p>We have seen how the news of Stanislas McKay's capture by the Russians +was communicated to his uncle, Mr. Faulks.</p> + +<p>Next day the brief telegram announcing it was published in the morning +papers, with many strong comments. Although some blamed the young +officer for his rashness, and others held Lord Raglan directly +responsible for his loss, all agreed in execrating the vindictive +cruelty of the uncompromising foe.</p> + +<p>General sympathy was expressed for Mr. McKay; the most august person +in the land sent a message of condolence to his mother through Lord +Essendine, who added a few kindly words on his own account.</p> + +<p>"What curse lies heavy on our line? It seems fatal to come within +reach of heirship to the family-honours.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[87]</a></span> Ere long there will be no +Wilders left, and the title of Essendine will become extinct," wrote +the old peer to Mrs. McKay. "Your boy, a fine, fearless young fellow, +whom I neglected too long and who deserved a nobler fate, is the +latest victim. Pray Heaven he may yet escape! I will strive hard to +help him in his present dire peril."</p> + +<p>Lord Essendine was as good as his word. He had great influence, +political and diplomatic: great friends in high place at every court +in Europe. Among others, the Russian ambassador at Vienna was under +personal obligations to him of long standing, and did not hesitate +when called upon to acknowledge the debt.</p> + +<p>Telegrams came and went from London to Vienna, from Vienna to St. +Petersburg, backwards and forwards day after day, yet nothing was +effected by Lord Essendine's anxious, energetic advocacy. The Czar +himself was appealed to, but the Autocrat of All the Russias would not +deign to intervene. He was inexorable. The law military must take its +course. Stanislas McKay was a traitor and the son of a traitor; he had +been actually taken red-handed in a new and still deeper treachery, +and he must suffer for his crime.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first fortnight McKay's relations and friends in +England had almost abandoned hope. This was what Mr. Faulks told Mrs. +Wilders, who called every day two or three times, always in the +deepest distress.</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! poor boy!" she said, wringing her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[88]</a></span> hands. "To be cut off +like this! It is too terrible! And nothing—you are sure nothing can +be done to save him?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Essendine is making the most strenuous efforts; so are we. Even +Sir Humphrey Fothergill has been most kind; and the War Minister has +repeatedly telegraphed to Lord Raglan to leave no stone unturned."</p> + +<p>"And all without effect? It is most sad!" She would have feigned the +same excessive grief with the Essendine lawyers, to whom she also paid +several visits, but the senior partner's cold eye and cynical smile +checked her heroics.</p> + +<p>"You will not be the loser by poor McKay's removal," he said, with +brutal frankness, one day when she had rather overdone her part.</p> + +<p>"As if I thought of that!" she replied, with supreme indignation.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible for you not to think of it, my dear madam. It would +not be human nature. Why shouldn't you? Mr. McKay was no relation."</p> + +<p>"He was my dear dead husband's devoted friend. Nursed him after his +wound—"</p> + +<p>"I remember to have heard that, and indeed everything that is good, of +Mr. McKay. I feel sure he would have made an excellent Earl of +Essendine; more's the pity."</p> + +<p>"I trust my son, if he inherits, will worthily maintain the credit of +the house."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So do I, my dear madam," said old Mr. Burt, with a bow that made the +speech a less doubtful compliment.</p> + +<p>"When will it be settled? Why do they hesitate? Why delay?" she said +to herself passionately, as she went homewards to Thistle Grove. Her +friend Mr. Hobson was there, waiting for her; and she repeated the +question with a fierce anxiety that proved how closely it concerned +her.</p> + +<p>"How impatient you grow! Like every woman. Everything must be done at +once."</p> + +<p>"I am not safe yet. I begin to doubt."</p> + +<p>"Can't you trust me? I have assured you it will end as you wish. When +have I disappointed you, Lady Lydstone?"</p> + +<p>She started at the sound of this name, once familiar, but surrounded +now by memories at once painful and terrible.</p> + +<p>"It is the rule in your English peerage that when a son becomes a +great peer, and the mother is only a commoner, to give her one of the +titles. Your Queen does it by prerogative."</p> + +<p>"I might have been Lady Lydstone by right, if I had waited," she said +slowly.</p> + +<p>"And you repent it? Bah! it is too late. Be satisfied. You will be +rich, a great lady, respected—"</p> + +<p>She made a gesture of dissent.</p> + +<p>"Yes; respected. Great ladies always are. You can marry again—whom +you please; me, for instance—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again the gesture: dissent mixed with unmistakable disgust.</p> + +<p>"You are not too flattering, Cyprienne. Do not presume on my +good-nature, and remember—"</p> + +<p>"What, pray?"</p> + +<p>"What you owe me. I am entitled to claim my reward. You must repay me +some day."</p> + +<p>"By marrying you?"</p> + +<p>Her voice, as usual, began to tremble when she found herself in +antagonism with this man.</p> + +<p>"If that be the price I ask. Why not? We ought to be happy together. +We have so much in common, so many secrets—"</p> + +<p>"Enough of this!" she said shortly, but not bravely.</p> + +<p>"And to be Lady Lydstone's husband would give me a certain status—a +sufficient income. I could help you to educate the boy, whom, +by-the-way, I have never seen. Yes; the notion pleases me. I will be +your second—I beg your pardon, your third husband, probably your +last."</p> + +<p>"I must beg of you, Hippolyte, to be careful; I hear some one coming."</p> + +<p>It was the Swiss butler, who entered rather timidly to say a gentleman +had called on important business.</p> + +<p>"What business? Surely you have not admitted him? If so, you shall +leave my service. You know it is contrary to my express orders."</p> + +<p>"He said you would see him, madam; that he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[91]</a></span> on the part of a +friend, a very ancient friend, whose name I had but to tell you—"</p> + +<p>"What name? Go on, François."</p> + +<p>"The name—it is difficult. Ru—" he spoke very slowly, struggling +with the strangeness of the sounds. "Ru—pert—Gas—"</p> + +<p>"Who can this be?" Mrs. Wilders had turned very white and now beckoned +Hobson to step out into the garden. "Is it a message from beyond the +grave?"</p> + +<p>"Coward!" cried her companion contemptuously. "The Seine seldom +surrenders its prey. Rupert Gascoigne is dead—drowned, as you know, +fourteen years ago."</p> + +<p>"But this visitor knew him—he knows of my connection with him. Else +why come in his name? Oh, Hippolyte, I tremble! Help me. Support me in +my interview with this strange man."</p> + +<p>"No; it would not be safe. If he knew Rupert Gascoigne, he may, too, +have known Ledantec. I will not meet him."</p> + +<p>"Who is the coward now?"</p> + +<p>"I do not choose to run unnecessary risks. But I will help you—to +this extent. See the man, if you must see him, in the double +drawing-room. I will be within call."</p> + +<p>"And earshot? I understand."</p> + +<p>"Well, what can I overhear—about you, at least—that I do not know +already? In any case I could help you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was so arranged. Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the +stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hyde," she began, composedly and very stiffly, "may I inquire the +meaning of this intrusion? You are a perfect stranger—"</p> + +<p>"Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette. Have years so changed me—?"</p> + +<p>"Rupert? Impossible!" she half-shrieked. "Rupert is dead. He died—was +drowned—when—"</p> + +<p>"You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely +accused of a foul crime."</p> + +<p>"I cannot—will not believe it. You are an impostor; you have assumed +a dead man's name."</p> + +<p>"My identity is easily proved, Cyprienne Vergette, and the relation in +which I stand to you."</p> + +<p>"What brings you here to vex me, after all these years? I always hated +you. I left you—Why cannot you leave me in peace?"</p> + +<p>"God knows I had no wish to see or speak to you again. The world was +wide enough for us both. We should have remained for ever apart, but +for your latest and foulest crime."</p> + +<p>"What false, lying charge is this you would trump up against me?"</p> + +<p>"The murder of my dearest friend and comrade. Murder twice attempted. +The first failed; the second, I fear, will prove fatal. If so, look to +yourself, madam."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What can you do?" she said, impudently, having regained much of her +old effrontery.</p> + +<p>"Prevent you from reaping the fruits of your iniquity. You know you +were never General Wilders's wife; you were always mine. Worse luck!"</p> + +<p>"You cannot prove it. You are dead. You dare not reappear."</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," he replied, very coolly.</p> + +<p>"You have no proofs, I say, of the marriage."</p> + +<p>"They are safe at the Mairie, in Paris. French archives are carefully +kept. I have only to ask for a certificate; it's easy enough."</p> + +<p>"For any one who could go there. But how will you dare to show +yourself in Paris? You are proscribed; a price is set on your head. +Your life would be forfeited."</p> + +<p>"I will risk all that, and more, to ruin your wicked game."</p> + +<p>"Do so at your peril."</p> + +<p>"You threaten me, vile wretch? Be careful. The measure of your +iniquity is nearly full. Punishment must soon overtake you; your +misdeeds are well known; your complicity with—"</p> + +<p>Why should he tell her? Why warn her of the net that was closing round +her, and thus help her to escape from the toils?</p> + +<p>But she had caught at his words.</p> + +<p>"Complicity?" she repeated, anxiously. "With whom?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No matter. Only look to yourself. It is war, war to the knife, +unquenchable war between us, remember that."</p> + +<p>And with these words he left the house.</p> + +<p>Although she had shown a bold front, Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still +call her, was greatly agitated by this stormy scene, and it was with a +blanched cheek and faltering step that she sought her confederate in +the next room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson was gone.</p> + +<p>"Coward! he has easily taken alarm. To desert me at the moment that I +most need advice and help!"</p> + +<p>But she did her friend injustice, as a letter that came from him in +the course of a few hours fully proved.</p> + +<p>"I heard enough," wrote Mr. Hobson, "to satisfy me that the devil is +unchained and means mischief. I never thought to see R. G. again. We +must watch him now closely, and know all his movements. If he goes to +Paris, as I heard him threaten, he will give himself into our hands. I +shall follow, in spite of the risks I run. One word of warning to the +Prefecture will put the police on his track. Arrest, removal to Mazas, +Cayenne, or by the guillotine—what matter which?—will be his +inevitable fate. The French law is implacable. His <i>dossier</i> (criminal +biography) is in the hands of the authorities, and will be easily +produced. There must be numbers of people still living in Paris<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[95]</a></span> who +could identify him at once, in spite of his beard and bronzed face. I +can, if need be, although I would rather not make myself too prominent +just now. Be tranquil; he will not be able to injure us. It is his own +doom that he is preparing."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_IX" id="CHAPTER_2_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>IN PARIS.</h3> + + +<p>Years had passed since Hyde—he was Rupert Gascoigne then—had last +been in Paris. The memory of that last sojourn and the horrors of it +still clung to him—his arrest, unjust trial, escape. His bold leap +into the swift Seine, his rescue by a passing river steamer, on which, +thanks to a plausible tale, in which he explained away the slight +flesh-wound he had received from the gendarme's pistol, he found +employment as a stoker, and so got to Rouen, thence to Havre and the +sea.</p> + +<p>Willingly he would never have returned to the place where he had so +nearly fallen a victim. But he was impelled by a stern sense of duty; +he came now as an avenging spirit to unmask and punish those who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[97]</a></span> +plotted against him and his friend—unscrupulous miscreants who were a +curse to the world.</p> + +<p>He took up his quarters in a large new hotel upon the Boulevards.</p> + +<p>Paris had changed greatly in these years. The Second Empire, with its +swarm of hastily-enriched adventurers, had already done much to +beautify and improve the city. Life was more than ever gay in this the +chief home of pleasure-seekers. Luxury of the showiest kind everywhere +in the ascendant; smart equipages and gaily-dressed crowds, the +shop-fronts glittering with artistic treasures, everyone outwardly +happy, and leading a careless, joyous existence.</p> + +<p>Englishmen, officers especially, were just now welcome guests in +Paris. Mr. Hyde, of the Royal Picts, as he entered himself upon the +hotel register, with his soldierly air, his Crimean beard, and his arm +in a sling, attracted general attention. He was treated with +extraordinary politeness everywhere by the most polite people in the +world. When he asked a question a dozen answers were ready for him—a +dozen officious friends were prepared to escort him anywhere.</p> + +<p>But Rupert Hyde wanted no one to teach him his way about Paris. Within +an hour of his arrival, after he had hastily changed the garments he +had worn on the night journey, had sallied forth, and, entering the +long Rue Lafayette, made straight to the headquarters of the 21st +<i>arrondissement</i>. Urgent business of a public<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[98]</a></span> nature had brought him +to Paris, but this was a private matter which he desired to dispose of +before he attended to anything else.</p> + +<p>The place he sought was easily found. It was a plain gateway of +yellowish-white stone, over which hung a brand-new tricolour from a +flag-staff fixed at an angle, and on either side a striped sentry-box +containing a <i>Garde de Paris</i>.</p> + +<p>The gateway led into a courtyard, in which were half-a-dozen +loungers, clustered chiefly around the entrance to a handsome flight +of stone steps within the building.</p> + +<p>Just within this second entrance was a functionary, half beadle, half +hall-porter, wearing a low-crowned cocked hat and a suit of bright +blue cloth plentifully adorned with buttons, to whom Hyde addressed +himself.</p> + +<p>"The office of M. the Mayor, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Upstairs; take the first turn to the right, and then—"</p> + +<p>"But surely I know that voice!" said some one behind Hyde, who had +turned round quickly.</p> + +<p>"What, you!" went on the speaker; "my excellent English comrade—here +in Paris! Oh, joyful surprise!"</p> + +<p>"Is it you? M. Anatole Belhomme, of the Voltigeurs? You have left the +Crimea? Is Sebastopol taken? the Russians all massacred, then?"</p> + +<p>"It is I who was massacred—almost. I received a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[99]</a></span> ball, here in my +leg, and was invalided last month. But you also have suffered, +comrade." And Anatole pointed to Hyde's arm in a sling.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. Only the kick of a horse; it does not prevent me moving +about, as you see."</p> + +<p>"But what brings you to Paris, my good friend?"</p> + +<p>"I am seeking some family documents—to substantiate an inheritance. +They are here in the archives of the Mairie."</p> + +<p>"How? You were seeking the office of M. the Mayor? You?" And M. +Anatole proceeded to scrutinise Hyde slowly and minutely from head to +foot. "You, a veteran with your arm in a sling, and that brown +beard—brown mixed with grey. It is strange—most strange."</p> + +<p>"Well, comrade," replied Hyde, laughing a little uneasily, "you ought +to know me again."</p> + +<p>"Lose no time, friend, in getting what you want from the Mairie. Come: +I will go with you. Come: you may be prevented if you delay."</p> + +<p>These words aroused Hyde's suspicions. Had Cyprienne warned the French +police to be on the look-out for him?</p> + +<p>"But, Anatole, explain. Why do you lay such stress on this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you—first, the papers. I will explain by-and-by."</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking Anatole, and Hyde accordingly hastened +upstairs. Anatole indicated the door of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[100]</a></span> an antechamber, which Hyde +entered alone. It was a large, bare room, with a long counter—inside +were a couple of desks, and at them sat several clerks—small people +wielding a very brief authority—who looked contemptuously at him over +their ledgers, and allowed him to stand there waiting without the +slightest acknowledgment of his existence for nearly a quarter of an +hour.</p> + +<p>"I have come for a certificated extract from the registers of a civil +marriage contracted here on the 27th April, 184—" he said, at length, +in a loud, indignant voice.</p> + +<p>The inquiry had the effect of an electrical shock. Two clerks at once +jumped from their stools; one went into an inner room, the other came +to the counter where Hyde stood.</p> + +<p>"Your name?" he asked, abruptly. "Your papers, domicile, place of +birth, age. The names of the parties to the contract of marriage."</p> + +<p>Hyde replied without hesitation, producing his passport, a new one +made out in the name of Hyde, describing his appearance, and setting +forth his condition as an officer in Her Britannic Majesty's Regiment +of Royal Picts.</p> + +<p>While he was thus engaged, an elderly, portly personage, wearing a +tricolour sash which was just visible under his waistcoat, came out +from the inner room, and, taking up the passport, looked at it, and +then at Hyde.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is that your name? Yes? It is different," he went on, audibly, but to +himself, "although the description tallies. You are an English +officer, domiciled at the Hôtel Impérial, Boulevard de la Madeleine. I +do not quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Surely it is only a simple matter!" pleaded Hyde. "Monsieur, I seek a +marriage certificate."</p> + +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"As a claim for an inheritance."</p> + +<p>"Nothing more, eh!" said the Mayor, suspiciously. "Have you any one, +any friend, who will answer for you, here?"</p> + +<p>"No one nearer than the British Embassy, except—to be sure—" he +suddenly thought of Anatole, who still waited outside, and who came in +at the summons of his friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are with Monsieur?" The official's face brightened the moment +he saw Anatole. "It is all right, then. Give the gentleman the +certificate. This friend"—he laid the slightest stress on the +word—"will be answerable for him, of course."</p> + +<p>"Now, Anatole, tell me what all this means," said Hyde, as he left the +Mairie with the document he deemed of so much importance in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"Not here," said the Frenchman, looking over his shoulder, nervously. +"Let us go somewhere out of sight."</p> + +<p>"The nearest wine-shop—I have not breakfasted yet, have you? A bottle +of red seal would suit you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[102]</a></span> I dare say," said Hyde, remembering +Anatole's little weakness.</p> + +<p>"It is not to be refused. I am with you, comrade. At the sign of the +'Pinched Nose' we shall find the best of everything," replied Anatole, +heartily, and the pair passed into the street.</p> + +<p>It was barely a dozen yards to the wine-shop, and they walked there +arm-in-arm in boisterous good-fellowship, elbowing their way through +the crowd in a manner that was not exactly popular.</p> + +<p>"Take care, imbecile!" cried one hulking fellow whom Anatole had +shouldered off the path.</p> + +<p>"Make room, then," replied our friend, rudely.</p> + +<p>"Would you dare—" began the other, in a menacing voice, adding some +words in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>"Excuse. I was in the wrong," said Anatole, suddenly humbled.</p> + +<p>"You are right to avoid a quarrel," remarked Hyde, when they were +seated at table. He had been quietly amused at his companion's easy +surrender.</p> + +<p>"I could have eaten him raw. But why should I? He is, perhaps, a +father of a family—the support of a widowed mother: if I had +destroyed him they might have come to want. No; let him go."</p> + +<p>"All the same, he does not seem inclined to go. There he is, still +lurking about the front of the shop."</p> + +<p>"Truly? Where?" asked Anatole, in evident perturbation. "Bah! we will +tire him of that. By the time we have finished a second bottle—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Or a third, if you will!" cried Hyde, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>They had their breakfast—the most savoury dishes; ham and sour crout, +tripe after the mode of Caen, rich ripe Roquefort cheese, and had +disposed of three bottles of a rather rough but potent red wine, +before Anatole would speak on any but the most common-place topics. The +Crimea, the dreadful winter, the punishment administered to their +common enemy, occupied him exclusively.</p> + +<p>But with the fourth bottle he became more communicative.</p> + +<p>"You owe a long candle to your saint for your luck to-day in meeting +me," he said, with a slight hiccup.</p> + +<p>"Ah! how so?"</p> + +<p>"Had not I been there to give you protection you would now be under +lock and key in the depôt of the Prefecture."</p> + +<p>Hyde, in spite of himself, shuddered as he thought of his last +detention in that unsavoury prison.</p> + +<p>"What, then, have you done, my English friend?" went on Anatole, with +drunken solemnity. "Why should the police seek your arrest?"</p> + +<p>"But do they? I cannot believe it."</p> + +<p>"It is as I tell you. I myself am in the 'cuisine' (the Prefecture). +Since my return from the war my illustrious services have been +rewarded by an appointment of great trust."</p> + +<p>"In other words, you are now a police-agent, and you were set to watch +for some one like me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not you?" asked Anatole, trying, but in vain, to fix him with his +watery eyes. "In any case," he went on, "I wish to serve a comrade—at +risk to myself, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"You shall not suffer for it, never fear, in the long run. Count +always upon me."</p> + +<p>"They may say that I have betrayed my trust; that I put friendship +before duty. That has always been my error; I have too soft a heart."</p> + +<p>Anatole now began to cry with emotion at his own chivalrous +self-sacrifice, which changed quickly into bravado as he cried, +striking the table noisily—</p> + +<p>"Who cares? I would save you from the Prefect himself."</p> + +<p>At this moment the big man who had been watching at the window +returned, accompanied by two others. He walked straight towards the +door of the wine-shop.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacré bleu! le patron</i> (chief). You are lost! Quick! take me by the +throat."</p> + +<p>Hyde jumped to his feet and promptly obeyed the curious command.</p> + +<p>"Now struggle; throw me to the ground, bolt through the back door," +whispered Anatole, hastily.</p> + +<p>All which Hyde executed promptly and punctiliously. Anatole suffered +him to do as he pleased, and Hyde escaped through the back entrance +just as the other policemen rushed in at the front.</p> + +<p>"After him! Run! Fifty francs to whoever stops him!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Hyde had the heels of them. He ran out and through a little +courtyard at the back communicating with the street. There he found a +<i>fiacre</i>, into which he jumped, shouting to the cabman—</p> + +<p>"Drive on straight ahead! A napoleon for yourself."</p> + +<p>In this way he distanced his pursuers, and half-an-hour later regained +his hotel by a long detour.</p> + +<p>Rather agitated and exhausted by the events of the morning, Hyde went +upstairs to his own room to rest and review his situation.</p> + +<p>"It is quite evident," he said to himself, "that Cyprienne has tried +to turn the tables on me. I was too open with her. It was incautious +of me to show my hand so soon. Of course the police have been set upon +me—the accused and still unjudged perpetrator of the crime in +Tinplate Street—by her. But has she acted alone in this?</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. I doubt whether she would have come to Paris with that +express purpose, or whether the police would have listened to her if +she had.</p> + +<p>"But who assisted her? Some one from whom she has no secrets. Were it +not that such a woman is likely to have set up the closest relations +with other miscreants in these past years, I should say that her agent +and accomplice was Ledantec. Ledantec is still alive; I know that, for +I saw him myself on the field of the Alma, rifling the dead.</p> + +<p>"Ledantec! We have an old score to settle, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[106]</a></span> and I. What if he +should be mixed up in this business that brings me to Paris? It is +quite likely. That would explain his presence in the Crimea, which +hitherto has seemed so strange. I never could believe that so daring +and unscrupulous a villain had degenerated into a camp-follower, +hungry for plunder gained in the basest way. It could not have been +merely to prey upon the dead that he followed in the wake of our army. +Far more likely that he was a secret agent of the enemy. If so then, +so still, most probably. What luck if these damaging clues that I hold +should lead me also to him!</p> + +<p>"But it is evident that I shall do very little if I continue to go +about as Rupert Hyde. The police are on the alert: my movements would +soon be interfered with, and, although I have no fear now of being +unable to prove my innocence, arrest and detention of any kind might +altogether spoil my game.</p> + +<p>"I must assume some disguise, and to protect myself and my case I will +do so with the full knowledge of the Embassy. It will do if I go there +within an hour. By this evening at latest the police will certainly be +here after Rupert Hyde."</p> + +<p>It must be mentioned here that the police of Paris are supposed to be +acquainted with the names of all visitors residing in the city. The +rule may be occasionally relaxed, as now, but under the despotism of +Napoleon III. it was enforced with a rigorous exactitude.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hyde had been barely half-a-dozen hours in Paris, but already his name +was inscribed upon the hotel-register awaiting the inspection of the +police, who would undoubtedly call that same day to note all new +arrivals.</p> + +<p>Before starting for the Embassy, Hyde sat down and wrote a couple of +rather lengthy letters, both for England, which he addressed, and +himself posted at the corner of the Rue Royale.</p> + +<p>Thence he went on, down the Faubourg St. Honoré, not many hundred +yards, and soon passed under the gateway ornamented with the arms of +Great Britain, and stood upon what, by international agreement, was +deemed a strip of British soil.</p> + +<p>He saw an <i>attaché</i>, to whom he quickly explained himself.</p> + +<p>"You wish to pursue the investigation yourself, I gather? Is it worth +while running such a risk? Why not hand over the whole business to the +Prefecture? I believe they have already put a watch upon the persons +suspected."</p> + +<p>"I have no confidence in their doing it as surely as I would myself."</p> + +<p>Hyde, it will be understood, had his own reasons for not wishing to +present himself at the Prefecture.</p> + +<p>"You propose to assume a disguise? As you please; but how can we help +you?"</p> + +<p>"By giving me papers in exchange for my passport,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[108]</a></span> which you can hold, +and by sending after me if I do not reappear within two or three +days."</p> + +<p>"You anticipate trouble, then; danger, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily, but it is as well to take precautions."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I should like to bring my disguise and put it on here. In the +porter's lodge, a back office—anywhere."</p> + +<p>The <i>attaché</i> promised to get the ambassador's permission, which was +accorded in due course, and that same afternoon Hyde entered the +Embassy a well-dressed English gentleman, and came out an evil-looking +ruffian, wearing the blue blouse and high silk cap of the working +classes. One sleeve of the blouse hung loose across his chest, as +though he had lost his arm, but his injured limb was safe underneath +the garment. His beard was trimmed close, and on either side of his +forehead were two great curls, plastered flat on the temple, after the +fashion so popular with French roughs.</p> + +<p>In this attire he plunged into the lowest depths of the city.</p> + +<p>Amongst the papers seized at the Maltese baker's in Kadikoi were +several that gave an address in Paris. This place was referred to +constantly as the headquarters of the organisation which supplied the +Russian enemy with intelligence, and at which a certain mys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[109]</a></span>terious +person—the leading spirit evidently of the whole nefarious +company—was to be found.</p> + +<p>"I'll find out all about him and his confederates before I'm many +hours older," said Hyde, confidently, as he presented himself at the +porter's lodge of a tall, six-storied house, of mean and forbidding +aspect, close to the Faubourg St. Martin. It was let out in small +lodgings to tenants as decayed and disreputable as their domicile.</p> + +<p>"M. Sabatier?" asked Hyde, boldly, of the porter.</p> + +<p>"On the fifth floor, the third door to the right," was the reply.</p> + +<p>Hyde mounted the stairs and knocked at the door indicated.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked an old woman who opened it.</p> + +<p>"The patron—is he here? I must speak to him."</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What brings you?" The old woman still held the door +ajar, and denied him admission.</p> + +<p>"I have news from the Crimea—important news—from the Maltese."</p> + +<p>"Joe?" asked the old woman, still suspicious.</p> + +<p>Hyde nodded, and said sharply—</p> + +<p>"Be quick! The patron must know at once. You will have to answer for +this delay."</p> + +<p>"He is absent—come again to-morrow," replied the old woman, sulkily.</p> + +<p>"It will be worse for him—for all of us—if he does not see me at +once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tell you he is absent. You must come again;" and with that the +woman shut the door in his face.</p> + +<p>What was Hyde to do now? Watch outside? That would hardly be safe. The +police, he knew, were on the look-out already, and they would be +suspicious of any one engaged in the same game.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it but to take the old woman's reply for truth +and wait till the following day. Hyde knew his Paris well enough to +find a third-class hotel or lodging-house suitable for such a man as +he now seemed, and here, after wandering through the streets for +hours, dining at a low restaurant and visiting the gallery of a +theatre, he sought and easily obtained a bed.</p> + +<p>Next day he returned to the Faubourg St. Martin and was met with the +same answer. The patron was still absent.</p> + +<p>Hyde was beginning to despair; but he resolved to wait one more day, +intending, if still unsuccessful, to surrender the business to other +hands.</p> + +<p>But on the third day he was admitted.</p> + +<p>"The patron will see you," said the old woman, as she led him into a +small but well-lighted room communicating with another, into which she +passed, locking the door behind her.</p> + +<p>They kept him waiting ten minutes or more, during which he had an +uncomfortable feeling he was being watched, although he could not tell +exactly how or from where.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was really a small eye-hole in the wall opposite, of the kind +called in French a "Judas," and such as is used in prisons to observe +the inmates of the cells. Through this, Hyde had been subjected to a +long and patient examination.</p> + +<p>It was apparently satisfactory; for presently the inner door was +unlocked, and the old woman returned, followed by a man whom we have +seen before.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Hobson in person; Ledantec really, as Hyde immediately saw, +in spite of the smug, smooth exterior, the British-cut whiskers, and +the unmistakable British garb.</p> + +<p>"Here is the patron," said the old woman; "tell him what you have to +say."</p> + +<p>Hyde, addressing himself to Mr. Hobson, began his story in the most +perfect French he could command. He spoke the language well, and had +no reason to fear that his accent would betray him.</p> + +<p>"The patron speaks no French," put in the old woman. "You ought to +know that. Tell me, and I will interpret."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson played his part closely, that was clear. A Frenchman by +birth, he could hardly be ignorant of or have forgotten his own +tongue.</p> + +<p>Hyde, following these instructions, told his story in the briefest +words. How Valetta Joe had been seized, his shop ransacked, and many +compromising papers brought to light.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ask him how he knows this," said Mr. Hobson quietly.</p> + +<p>"My brother has written to me from the Crimea. He was in the camp when +the baker was seized."</p> + +<p>"What is his brother's name?"</p> + +<p>"Eugène Chabot, of the 39th Algerian battalion."</p> + +<p>This was a name given in the papers seized.</p> + +<p>"Was it he who gave this address? How did the fellow come here? Ask +him that."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hyde said; he had learned the patron's address from his +brother, who had urged him to come and tell what had happened without +a moment's delay.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hobson, <i>alias</i> Ledantec, had listened attentively to this +friendly message as it was interpreted to him bit by bit, but without +betraying the slightest concern. Suddenly he changed his demeanour.</p> + +<p><i>"Ecoutez-moi!"</i> he cried in excellent French, looking up and darting +a fierce look at the man in front of him. "Listen! You have played a +bold game and lost it. You did not hold a sufficiently strong hand."</p> + +<p>Hyde stood sullenly silent and unconcerned, but he felt he was +discovered.</p> + +<p>"In your charming and for the most part veracious story there is only +one slight mistake, my good friend."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you. Eugène Chabot, your brother?—yes; your brother. +Well, he could not have written to you as you tell me—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"For the simple reason, that, just one week before the seizure of +Valetta Joe, Chabot was killed—in a sortie from the enemy's lines."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! I—"</p> + +<p>"Have been lying throughout and must take the consequences. You have +thrust your head into the lion's jaw. Hold!"</p> + +<p>Seeing that Hyde had thrust his one hand beneath his blouse, seeking, +no doubt, for some concealed weapon, Hobson suddenly struck a bell on +the table before him.</p> + +<p>Four men rushed in.</p> + +<p>"Seize him before he can use his arm! Seize him, and unmask him!"</p> + +<p>The ruffians, laying violent hands on Hyde, tore off his blouse and +dragged the wig with its elaborate curls from his head. In the +struggle he gave a sharp cry of pain. They had touched too roughly the +still helpless arm which hung in its sling beneath the blouse.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I knew I could not be mistaken. It is you, then, Rupert +Gascoigne! I thought I recognised you from the first, although it is +years and years since we met."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, villain! Cowardly traitor, murderer, despoiler of the +dead!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"That I saw you at your craven work just after the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[114]</a></span> Alma; you ought to +have been shot then. The world would have been well rid of a +miscreant."</p> + +<p>"Pretty language, truly, Mr. Gascoigne! I must strive to deserve it."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure. Only do not hope for mercy. You know too much. I might +make away with you at once—"</p> + +<p>"But why spill blood?" he went on, musing aloud. "The guillotine will +do your business in due course if I hand you over to the law. That +will be best, safest; the most complete riddance, perhaps."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"You see you are altogether in my power," said Ledantec, "either way. +But I am not unreasonable. I am prepared to spare you—for the +present," he said, with an evil smile—"only for the present, and +according as you may behave."</p> + +<p>"On what conditions will you spare me—for the present?" asked Hyde, +elated at the unexpected chance thus given him.</p> + +<p>"Tell me how you came to know of this address. Who sent you here?"</p> + +<p>"Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at Kadikoi."</p> + +<p>"Describe him to me," asked Ledantec, to try Hyde.</p> + +<p>Hyde had seen Joe more than once in his rides through the hut-town, +and his answer was perfectly satisfactory.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did he send any message?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I have told you. I was to let you know of his arrest and of +the danger you would run."</p> + +<p>Ledantec was deceived by the straightforward and unhesitating way in +which Hyde told his story.</p> + +<p>"It may be so. At any rate, the warning must not be despised. Whether +or not you are to be trusted remains to be seen. But I will keep you +safe for a day or two longer and see what turns up. In any case you +cannot do much mischief to Cyprienne while shut fast here."</p> + +<p>"Cyprienne?" said Hyde, quite innocently.</p> + +<p>"I am quite aware of one reason that brought you to Paris, but, as I +have said, you cannot well execute your threats so long as we hold you +tight."</p> + +<p>Hyde shook his head as though these remarks were completely +unintelligible. But he laughed within himself at the thought that he +had already outwitted both Cyprienne and her accomplice, and that, +wherever he was, a prisoner or at large, events would work out her +discomfiture without him.</p> + +<p>He had no fears for himself. They had promised him at the British +Embassy that he should be sought out if he did not reappear within +three days. Besides, the French police had their eyes on the house. +The tables would presently be turned upon his captors in a way that +they little expected.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, he was led by Ledantec's orders into a little back +room dimly lighted by a window<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[116]</a></span> looking on to a blank wall, he went +like a lamb. But physically he was not particularly comfortable; there +were pleasanter ways of spending the day than tied hand and foot to +the legs of a bedstead, and Ledantec's farewell speech was calculated +to disturb his equanimity.</p> + +<p>"Don't make a sound or a move, mind. If you do—" and he produced a +glittering knife, with a look that could not be misunderstood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_X" id="CHAPTER_2_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>SUSPENSE.</h3> + + +<p>McKay must have slept for many hours. Daylight was fading, and the den +he occupied was nearly dark, when he was aroused by the voices of his +Russian fellow-lodgers coming off duty for the night.</p> + +<p>They were rough, simple fellows most of them: boorish peasants torn +from their village homes, and forced to fight in their Czar's quarrel, +which he was pleased to call a holy war. Coarse, uncultivated, but not +unkindly, and they gathered around McKay, staring curiously at him, +and plying him with questions.</p> + +<p>His command of their language soon established amicable relations, and +presently, when supper was ready, a nauseous mess of <i>kasha</i>, or thick +oatmeal porridge, boiled with salt pork, they hospitably invited him +to partake. He was a prisoner, but an honoured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[118]</a></span> guest, and they freely +pressed their flasks of <i>vodkhi</i> upon him when with great difficulty +he had swallowed a few spoonfulls of the black porridge.</p> + +<p>They talked, too, incessantly, notwithstanding their fatigue, always +on the same subject, this interminable siege.</p> + +<p>"It's weary work," said one. "I long for home."</p> + +<p>"They will never take the place; Father Todleben will see to that. Why +do they not go, and leave us in peace?"</p> + +<p>"It is killing work: in the batteries day and night; always in danger +under this hellish fire. This is the best place. You are better off, +comrade, than we" (this was to McKay); "for you are safe under cover +here, and in the open a man may be killed at any time."</p> + +<p>"He has dangers of his own to face," said the under-officer in charge +of the barrack, grimly. "Do not envy him till after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>McKay heard these words without emotion. He was too wretched, too much +dulled by misfortune and the misery of his present condition, to feel +fresh pain.</p> + +<p>Yet he slept again, and was in a dazed, half-stupid state when they +fetched him out next morning and marched him down to the water's edge, +where he was put into a man-of-war's boat and rowed across to the +north side of the harbour.</p> + +<p>Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian commander-in-chief, had sent for him, +and about noon he was taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[119]</a></span> before the great man, who had his +headquarters in the Star Fort, well out of reach of the besiegers' +fire.</p> + +<p>The Prince, a portly, imposing figure, of haughty demeanour, and +speaking imperiously, accosted McKay very curtly.</p> + +<p>"I know all about you. Whether you are spy or traitor matters little: +your life is forfeited. But I will spare it on one condition. Tell me +unreservedly what is going on in the enemy's lines."</p> + +<p>"I should indeed deserve your unjust epithets if I replied," was all +McKay's answer.</p> + +<p>"What reinforcements have reached the allies lately?" went on the +Prince, utterly ignoring McKay's refusal, and looking at him fiercely. +"Speak out at once."</p> + +<p>Our hero bore the gaze unflinchingly, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"We know that the French Imperial Guard have arrived, and that many +new regiments have joined the English. Is an immediate attack +contemplated?"</p> + +<p>McKay was still silent.</p> + +<p>"Ill-conditioned, obstinate fool!" cried the Prince, angrily. "It is +your only chance. Speak, or prepare to die!"</p> + +<p>"You have no right to press me thus. I refuse distinctly to betray my +own side."</p> + +<p>"Your own side! You are a Russian—it is your duty to tell us. But I +will not bandy words with you. Let him be taken back to a place of +safety and await my orders."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once more McKay gave himself up for lost. When he regained the +wretched casemate that was his prison he hardly hoped to leave it, +except when summoned for execution.</p> + +<p>But that day passed without incident, a second also, and a third. +Still our hero found himself alive.</p> + +<p>Had they forgotten him? Or were they too busily engaged to attend to +so small a matter as sending him out of the world.</p> + +<p>The latter seemed most probable. Another bombardment, the most +incessant and terrible of any that preceded it, as McKay thought. +Although hidden away, so to speak, in the bowels of the earth, he +plainly heard the continuous cannonade, the roar of the round-shot, +the murderous music of the shells as they sang through the air, and +presently exploded with tremendous noise.</p> + +<p>He was to have a still livelier experience of the terrible mischief +caused by the ceaseless fire of his friends.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon of the fourth day he was called forth, always in +imminent peril of his life, and taken round the head of a harbour +which was filled with men-of-war, past the Creek Battery, and up into +the main town. They halted him at the door of a handsome building, +greatly dilapidated by round-shot and shell. This was the naval +library, the highest spot in Sebastopol, a centre and focus of danger, +but just now occupied by the chiefs of the Russian garrison.</p> + +<p>McKay waited, wondering what would happen to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[121]</a></span> him, and in a few +minutes narrowly escaped death more than once. First a shell burst in +the street close to him, and two bystanders were struck down by the +fragments; then another shell struck a house opposite, and covered the +neighbouring space with splinters large and small; next a round-shot +tore down the thoroughfare, carrying everything before it.</p> + +<p>It was no safer inside than out. Yet McKay was glad when they marched +him in before the generals, who were seated at the open window of the +topmost look-out, scanning the besiegers' operations with their +telescopes.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this fire? Have you any idea?" It was Todleben +who asked the question. "Does it prelude a general attack?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," replied McKay.</p> + +<p>"Was there no talk in the enemy's lines of an expected assault?" asked +another.</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"You must know. You are on the headquarter-staff of the British army."</p> + +<p>"Who told you so? You have always denied my claim to be treated as an +English officer."</p> + +<p>"Because you are a traitor to your own country. But it is as I say. We +know as a fact that you belong to Lord Raglan's staff; how we know it +you need not ask."</p> + +<p>The fact was, of course, made patent by the English +commander-in-chief, in his repeated attempts to secure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[122]</a></span> McKay's +release and exchange. But the prisoner had been told nothing of these +efforts, or of the peremptory refusal that had met Lord Raglan's +demands.</p> + +<p>"I told you it would be no use," interrupted a third. "He is as +obstinate as a mule."</p> + +<p>"Stay! what is that?" cried Todleben, suddenly. "Over there, in the +direction of the Green Mamelon."</p> + +<p>Three rockets were seen to shoot up into the evening sky.</p> + +<p>"It is some signal," said another. "Yes; heavy columns are beginning +to climb the slopes away there to our left."</p> + +<p>"And the British troops are collecting in front of the Quarries."</p> + +<p>At this moment the besiegers' fire, which had slackened perceptibly, +was re-opened with redoubled strength.</p> + +<p>"Let everyone return to his station without delay," said Todleben, +briefly. "A serious crisis is at hand. The attack points to the +Malakoff, which, as you all know, is the key of our position."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said one of the other generals, pointing to McKay.</p> + +<p>"What matter?" replied Todleben. "He can hardly hope to pass on the +intelligence."</p> + +<p>But the words were not lost upon our hero, although he had but little +time then to consider their deep meaning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What shall we do with the prisoner?" asked his escort.</p> + +<p>"Take him back to his place of confinement."</p> + +<p>McKay's heart was lighter that evening than it had been at any time +since his capture. He remembered now that this was the 7th of June, +the day settled for the night attack upon the Mamelon and Quarries, +and he hoped that if these succeeded, as they must, they would +probably be followed by a further assault upon the principal inner +defences of the town.</p> + +<p>He spent the evening and the greater part of the night in the deepest +agitation, hoping hourly, momentarily, for deliverance.</p> + +<p>None came, no news even; but that the struggle was being fought out +strenuously he knew from the absence of the men that occupied his +casemate, all of whom were doubtless engaged. But towards daylight one +or two dropped in who had been wounded and forced to retire from the +batteries. From them he learnt something of what had occurred.</p> + +<p>The French had stormed the works on the left of the Russian front, and +had carried them once, twice, three times. The Russians had returned +again and again to recover their lost redoubts, but had been obliged +to surrender them in the end.</p> + +<p>In the same way the English had attacked the ambuscades—what we call +the Quarries—and between night and dawn the Russians had made four +separate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[124]</a></span> attempts to recover what had been lost at the first +onslaught.</p> + +<p>"And now it is over?"</p> + +<p>"No one can say. We have suffered fearfully; we are almost broken +down. If the enemy presses we shall have to give up the town."</p> + +<p>"Pray God they may come on!" cried McKay, counting the moments till +relief came.</p> + +<p>But bitter disappointment was again his portion. The day grew on, and, +instead of renewed firing, perfect quiet supervened. There was a +truce, he was told, on both sides, to bury the dead.</p> + +<p>Now followed several dreary days, when hope had sunk again to its +lowest ebb, and all his worst apprehensions revived. It was like a +living death; he was a close prisoner, and never a word reached him +that any of his friends were concerning themselves with his miserable +fate.</p> + +<p>Again there came a glimpse of hope. Surely there was good cause: in +the renewal of the bombardment, which, after an interval of a few +days, revived with yet fiercer intention and unwavering persistence.</p> + +<p>Surely this meant another—possibly the final—and supreme attack?</p> + +<p>The firing continued without intermission for four days. It was +increased and intensified by an attack of the allied fleet upon the +seaward batteries. This new bombardment made itself evident from the +direction of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[125]</a></span> the sounds, and the merciless execution of the fiery +rockets that fell raging into the town.</p> + +<p>At length, in the dead of night, McKay was aroused from fitful sleep +by the beating of drums and trumpets sounding the assembly.</p> + +<p>It was a general alarm. Troops were heard hurrying to their stations +from all directions, and in the midst of it all was heard—for a +moment there had been a lull in the cannonade—a sharp, long-sustained +sound of musketry fire.</p> + +<p>Evidently an attack, but on what points it was made, and how it fared, +McKay at first could have no idea. But, as he listened anxiously to +the sounds of conflict, it was clear that the tide of battle was +raging nearer to him now than on any previous occasion.</p> + +<p>He waited anxiously, his heart beating faster and faster, as each +minute the firing grew nearer and nearer. He was in ignorance of the +exact nature of the attack until, as on the last occasion, the Russian +soldiers came back by twos and threes and re-entered the casemate.</p> + +<p>"What is going on in the front?" McKay asked.</p> + +<p>"The enemy are advancing up the ravine. We have been driven out of the +cemetery, and I doubt whether we shall hold our ground."</p> + +<p>"They are coming on in thousands!" cried a new arrival. "This place is +not safe. Let us fall back to the Karabel barrack."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You had better come too," said one soldier thoughtfully to McKay, as +he gathered up the long skirts of his grey great-coat to allow of more +expeditious retreat.</p> + +<p>"All right," said McKay, "I will follow."</p> + +<p>And taking advantage of the confusion, during which the sentries on +the casemate had withdrawn, he left his prison-chamber and got out +into the main road.</p> + +<p>The fusilade was now close at hand; bullets whistled continually +around and pinged with a dull thud as they flattened against the rocky +ground.</p> + +<p>The assailants were making good progress. McKay, as he crouched below +a wall on the side of the road, could hear the glad shouts of his +comrades as, with short determined rushes, they charged forward from +point to point.</p> + +<p>His situation was one of imminent peril truly, for he was between two +fires. But what did he care? Only a few minutes more, if he could but +lie close, and he would be once more surrounded by his own men.</p> + +<p>While he waited the dawn broke, and he could watch for himself the +progress the assailants made. They were now climbing along the slopes +of the ravine on both sides of the harbour, occupying house after +house, and maintaining a hot fire on the retreating foe. It was +exciting, maddening; in his eagerness McKay was tempted to emerge from +his shelter and wave encouragement to his comrades.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Unhappily for him, the gesture was misunderstood. The crack of +half-a-dozen rifles responded promptly, and a couple of them took +fatal effect. Poor Stanislas fell, badly wounded, with one bullet in +his arm and another in his leg.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[128]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_XI" id="CHAPTER_2_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN.</h3> + + +<p>McKay lay where he fell, and it was perhaps well for him that he was +prostrate. The attacking parties soon desisted from firing, and +charged forward at racing-pace, driving all who stood before them at +the point of the bayonet. They swept over and past McKay, trampling +him under foot in their hot haste to demolish the foe.</p> + +<p>But the wave of the advance left McKay behind it, and well within the +shelter of his own people.</p> + +<p>Although badly wounded, he was not disabled, and he took advantage of +the first pause in the fight to appeal for help to some men of the +38th who occupied the wall behind which he fell.</p> + +<p>"You speak English gallows well for a Rooskie,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[129]</a></span> said one of the men, +brusquely, but not without sympathy. "What do you want? Water? Are you +badly hit?"</p> + +<p>"A bullet in my leg and a flesh-wound in my arm."</p> + +<p>"Hold hard! Sawbones will be up soon. Meanwhile, let's try and staunch +the blood. We'll tear up your shirt for a bandage."</p> + +<p>And with rough but real kindness he tore open McKay's old <i>greggo</i> so +as to get at his underlinen. This action betrayed the red cloth +waistcoat he still wore.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's an English staff waistcoat. Quick! How did you come by +it, you murdering rogue?"</p> + +<p>"I am a staff officer."</p> + +<p>"You! What do you call yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. McKay, of the Royal Picts: deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general +at headquarters."</p> + +<p>"Save us alive! This bangs Bannagher. Wait, honey—wait till I call an +officer."</p> + +<p>Presently, when the wounds had been rudely but effectively bound up, a +captain of the 38th came up, and to him McKay made himself known.</p> + +<p>"This is no time or place to ask how you came here. Taken prisoner, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What force?"</p> + +<p>"Eyre's Brigade: of the Third Division. Told off to attack the Creek +Battery. We have carried the cemetery, but what else we've done I have +not the least idea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Haven't you? Well, I'll tell you. You've taken Sebastopol."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"You're well inside the fortress anyway. I can tell you that for +certain. Just above is the place in which I was kept a prisoner."</p> + +<p>"Is that a fact? By Jove! what tremendous luck!"</p> + +<p>"But can you hold your ground?"</p> + +<p>"Eyre will. He'll hold on by his eyelids till reinforcements come up, +never fear. And the French have promised us support."</p> + +<p>"Is yours the only attack?"</p> + +<p>"Dear no! The French have gone in at the Malakoff, and our people at +the Redan."</p> + +<p>"How has it gone—have you any idea?" asked McKay, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No one knows, except the general, perhaps. Here he comes; and he +don't look over pleased."</p> + +<p>General Eyre, a tall, fierce-looking soldier, strode up with a long +step, talking excitedly to a staff-officer, whom McKay recognised as +one of Lord Raglan's aides-de-camps.</p> + +<p>"Hold our ground!" the general was saying. "Of course we will, to the +last. But if the French could only come up in force we might still +retrieve the day. You see we are well inside, though I cannot say +exactly where."</p> + +<p>At this moment the officer who had been speaking to McKay touched his +hat and said to the general<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[131]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"There is some one here who can tell you, I think, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who is that? A prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"One of our own people. McKay, of the headquarter staff. A man whom +the Russians took, and whom we have just recovered."</p> + +<p>"McKay!" cried the aide-de-camp, joyfully. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>Our hero was speedily surrounded by a group of sympathetic friends, to +whom he gave a short account of himself. Then he briefly explained to +the general the position in which they were.</p> + +<p>"It is as I thought," said the general. "We have pierced the Russian +works above the man-of-war harbour, and, if reinforced promptly, can +take the whole of the line in reverse. Will you let Lord Raglan know? +and the attack might then be renewed on this side."</p> + +<p>"I fear there is no hope of that," said the aide-de-camp, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Have we failed, then?" asked McKay.</p> + +<p>His friend shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Completely. I cannot tell why exactly, but I know that part of the +French started prematurely. There was some mistake about the +signal-rocket. This gave the alarm to the whole garrison."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I heard them turning out in the middle of the night."</p> + +<p>"And the consequence was they were ready for us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[132]</a></span> at all points. Our +attacking parties at the Redan were met with a tremendous fire, and +literally mowed down. Our losses have been frightful. All the +generals—Sir John Campbell, Lacy, yea, and Shadford—are killed, and +ever so many more. It's quite heartbreaking."</p> + +<p>"And will nothing more be tried to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I fear not, although Lord Raglan is quite ready; but the French are +very dispirited. Goodness knows how it will end! The only slice of +luck is Eyre's getting in here; but I doubt if he can remain."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"The enemy's fire is too galling, and it appears to be on the +increase."</p> + +<p>"I fancy they are bringing the ships' broadsides to bear."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we are bound to suffer severely. But you, McKay; I see you +are wounded. We must try and get you to the rear."</p> + +<p>"Never mind me," said McKay, pluckily; "I will take my chance and wait +my turn."</p> + +<p>The chance did not come for many hours. Eyre's brigade continued to be +terribly harassed; they were not strong enough to advance, yet they +stoutly refused to retire. The enemy's fire continued to deal havoc +amongst them; many officers and men were struck down; General Eyre +himself was wounded severely in the head.</p> + +<p>All this time they waited anxiously for support, but none appeared. At +length, as night fell, Colonel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[133]</a></span> Adams, who had succeeded Eyre in the +command, reluctantly decided to fall back.</p> + +<p>The retreat was carried out slowly and in perfect order, without +molestation from the enemy. Now at last the wounded were removed on +stretchers as carefully and tenderly as was possible.</p> + +<p>McKay's hurts had been seen to early in the day. He was placed as far +as possible out of fire, and his strength maintained by such +stimulants as were available.</p> + +<p>While the excitement lasted his pluck and endurance held out. But +there was a gradual falling-off of fire as the night advanced, and the +pains of his wounds increased. He suffered terribly from the motion as +he was borne back to camp, and when at last they reached the shelter +of a hospital-tent in the Third Division camp he was in a very bad +way: fits of wild delirium alternated with death-like insensibility.</p> + +<p>But he was once more amongst his friends. Next morning Lord Raglan, +notwithstanding his heavy cares and preoccupation, sent over to +inquire after him.</p> + +<p>Many of the headquarter-staff came too, and Colonel Blythe was +constantly at his bedside.</p> + +<p>On the second day the bullet was removed from the leg, and from that +moment the symptoms became more favourable. Fever abated, and the +wounds looked as though they would heal "at the first intention."</p> + +<p>"He will do well enough now," said the doctor in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[134]</a></span> charge of the case; +"but he will want careful nursing—better, I fear, than he can get in +camp."</p> + +<p>"Why not send him on board a hospital ship? Could he bear the journey +to Balaclava?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. I was going to suggest it."</p> + +<p>"There is the <i>Burlington Castle</i>, his own uncle's ship: she is +now fitted up as a hospital, with nurses and every appliance. He will +soon get well on board her."</p> + +<p>There were other and still more potent aids to convalescence on board +the <i>Burlington Castle</i>. A band of devoted female nurses tended the +sick; and amongst them, demurely clad in a black dress, her now sad +white face half hidden under an immense coif, was one who answered to +the name of Miss Hidalgo.</p> + +<p>It was Mariquita, placed there by the kindness of the military +authorities, anxious to make all the return possible by helping in the +good work. The relationship of the captain to Stanislas was remembered +by Colonel Blythe, and the <i>Burlington Castle</i> seemed the fittest +place to receive the poor girl.</p> + +<p>Good Captain Faulks had been taken into the secret.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" he had said. "I will watch over her for dear Stanny's +sake. I was fond of that lad, and she shall be like a daughter to me."</p> + +<p>At first she seemed quite dazed and stupefied by her grief. She gave +up her lover as utterly lost, and would not listen to the consolation +and encouragement offered.</p> + +<p>"He'll turn up, my dear," said Captain Faulks;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[135]</a></span> "you'll see. He was +not saved from drowning to die by a Russian rope. Wait; he'll weather +the storm."</p> + +<p>Mariquita would shake her head hopelessly and go about her appointed +task with an unflagging but despairing diligence that was touching to +see.</p> + +<p>Uncle Barto, as he always wished her to call him, was the first to +tell her the good news.</p> + +<p>"He's found, my dear. What did I tell you? They couldn't keep him; I +knew that."</p> + +<p>"The Holy Virgin be praised!" cried Mariquita. "But is he +well—uninjured? When shall we see him?"</p> + +<p>"Soon, my dear, soon. He will be brought—I mean he will come on board +in a few days now."</p> + +<p>A simple pressure of the hand, a half-whispered exclamation of joy in +her own fluent Spanish, was the only greeting that Mariquita gave her +wounded lover when they lifted him on to the deck of the +hospital-ship. But the vivid blush that mantled in her cheek, and the +glad light that came into her splendid eyes, showed how much she had +suffered, and how great was her emotion at this moment of trial.</p> + +<p>As for Stanislas, he was nearly speechless with surprise.</p> + +<p>"You here, Mariquita! What strange adventure is this? Tell me at +once—"</p> + +<p>"No, no," interposed the doctor; "it is a long story. You are tired +now, and will have plenty of time to hear from Miss Hidalgo all about +herself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the telling of this story as she sat by the side of his couch, +hand locked in hand, and he learnt by degrees the full measure of her +self-sacrificing devotion, that did McKay so much good. It braced and +strengthened him, giving him a new and stronger desire to live and +enjoy the unspeakable blessing of this true woman's love.</p> + +<p>They would have been altogether happy, these long days of +convalescence, but for his enforced absence from his duties, and the +distressing news that came from the front.</p> + +<p>Lord Raglan had never recovered from the disappointment of the 18th of +June. The failure of the attack, and the loss of many personal +friends, preyed upon his spirits, and he suddenly became seriously +ill. He never rallied, sank rapidly, and died in a couple of days, to +the great grief of the whole army.</p> + +<p>No one felt it more than McKay, to whom the sad news was broken by his +old chief.</p> + +<p>"It is very painful to think," said Sir Richard Airey, "that he passed +away at the moment of failure; that he was not spared to see the +fortress fall—for it must fall."</p> + +<p>"Of course it must, sir," said McKay. "This last attack ought to have +succeeded. The Russians were in sore straits."</p> + +<p>"It was the French who spoiled everything by their premature advance. +I knew we could do nothing until they had taken the Malakoff. That is +the key of the position."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are right, sir. I myself heard Todleben say those very words."</p> + +<p>"Did you? That is important intelligence. It must not be forgotten +when the time comes to organise a fresh attack."</p> + +<p>"I shall be well then, I hope, sir, and able to go in with the first +column. I think I could show the way."</p> + +<p>"At any rate you can say more than most of us, for you have been +actually inside the place."</p> + +<p>"And shall be again, if you will only wait another month!" cried +McKay.</p> + +<p>But the doctors laughed at him when he talked like this.</p> + +<p>"You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for three months +or more, and then you must make up your mind to crutches for another +six."</p> + +<p>"I shall not see the next attack, then?"</p> + +<p>"No; but you will see England before many weeks are gone. We are going +to send you home at once."</p> + +<p>"But I had much rather not go—" began McKay.</p> + +<p>"It's no use talking; everything is settled."</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass. The good ship <i>Burlington Castle</i>, Bartholomew +Faulks, master, having filled up its complement of invalids and +wounded men, including Captain Stanislas McKay, steamed westward about +the middle of July.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_XII" id="CHAPTER_2_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>IN LINCOLN'S INN.</h3> + + +<p>Ledantec, <i>alias</i> Hobson, had at once reported progress to Mrs. +Wilders. The day after his arrival in Paris she had heard from him. He +wrote—</p> + +<p>"Have no fears. The police are on his track. They have his exact +description, and are watching at the Mairie. Directly he shows himself +he will be arrested as Rupert Gascoigne, tried, condemned. They do +these things well in France. You will never hear of him again."</p> + +<p>There was much to quiet and console her in these words. After the +dreadful surprise of Rupert's reappearance she had been a prey to the +keenest anxiety. The whole edifice, built up with such patient, +unscrupulous effort, had threatened to crumble away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[139]</a></span> Bitter +disappointment seemed inevitable just when her highest hopes were +nearest fulfilment.</p> + +<p>But now, thanks to her unscrupulous confederate, the staunch friend +who had stood by her so often before, the last and worst difficulty +was removed, and everything would be well.</p> + +<p>Another day passed without further intelligence from Paris, but +Ledantec's silence aroused no fresh apprehensions. Doubtless there was +nothing special to tell; matters were progressing favourably, of +course; until her husband was actually arrested, she could expect to +hear nothing more.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the third day, however—that, in fact, following +Gascoigne's visit to the Mairie—she had a short letter from Lincoln's +Inn. Lord Essendine's lawyers wrote her, begging she would call on +them early next day, as they had an important communication to make to +her. His lordship himself would be present, and their noble client had +suggested, if that would suit her, an appointment for twelve noon.</p> + +<p>"At last! They mean to do the right thing at last," she said, +exultingly. "The proud old man is humbled; he fears the extinction of +his ancient line, and must make overtures now to me. My boy is the +heir; they cannot resist his rights; his claim is undeniable. He shall +be amply provided for; I shall insist on the most liberal terms."</p> + +<p>Fully satisfied of the cause of her summons to Lin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[140]</a></span>coln's Inn, Mrs. +Wilders presented herself punctually at twelve. Although she still +schooled her face to sorrowful commiseration with the old peer whom +fate had so sorely stricken, the elation she felt was manifest in her +proud, arrogant carriage, and the triumphant glitter of her bold brown +eyes.</p> + +<p>Lord Essendine was with the senior partner, Mr. Burt, when she was +shown in; and although he arose stiffly, but courteously, from his +seat, did not take her outstretched hand, while his greeting was cold +and formal in the extreme.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, and, as neither of the gentlemen spoke, Mrs. +Wilders began.</p> + +<p>"You sent for me, my lord—"</p> + +<p>His lordship waved his hand toward Mr. Burt, as though she must +address herself to the old lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wilders," said Mr. Burt, gravely and with great +deliberation—"Mrs. Wilders, if that indeed be your correct +appellation—"</p> + +<p>And the doubt thus implied, reviving her worst fears, sent a cold +shock to her heart.</p> + +<p>But she was outwardly brave.</p> + +<p>"How dare you!" she cried with indignant defiance in her tone. "Have +you only brought me here to insult me? I appeal to your lordship. Is +this the treatment I am to expect? I, your cousin's widow—"</p> + +<p>"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyer. "To be a widow it is first +necessary to have been a wife."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you presume to say I was not General Wilders's wife?" she asked +hotly.</p> + +<p>"Not his lawful wife. Stay, madam," he said, seeing Mrs. Wilders half +rise from her chair. "You must hear me out. We have evidence, the +clearest seemingly; disprove it if you can."</p> + +<p>"What evidence?"</p> + +<p>"The certificate of your other marriage. It is here."</p> + +<p>"How came you by it?" she inquired eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No matter, it is all in proper form; you could not contest it, +understand."</p> + +<p>"Well? I never pretended when I gave my hand to Colonel Wilders that I +had not been married before. He was well aware of it."</p> + +<p>"But not that your first husband was alive at the time."</p> + +<p>"It is false! He was dead—drowned; he drowned himself in the Seine."</p> + +<p>"Your first husband is alive still, and you know it. You have seen him +yourself within these last few days. He is ready to come forward at +any time. It is he in fact who has furnished us with these proofs."</p> + +<p>"I shall protest, dispute, contest this to the uttermost. It is a +base, discreditable plot against a weak, helpless, defenceless woman," +said Mrs. Wilders with effrontery; but despair was in her heart.</p> + +<p>How Ledantec has deceived her!</p> + +<p>"Is that all you have to say to me?" she went on at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[142]</a></span> length after +another pause. "You, Lord Essendine—my husband's relative and friend, +one of the richest and proudest men in this purse-proud land—how +chivalrous, how brave of you, to bring me here to load me with vile +aspersions, to rob me of my character; my child, my little friendless +orphan boy, of the inheritance which is his by right of birth!"</p> + +<p>"Do not let us get into recriminations, madam," said Lord Essendine, +speaking for the first time. "It is to speak of your boy, mainly, that +I wished for this interview."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!"</p> + +<p>"Whatever blot may stain his birth, I cannot forget that he has +Wilders's blood in his veins. He is Cousin Bill's son still."</p> + +<p>"You admit so much? Many thanks," she sneered. "And since these heavy +blows have struck us, blow after blow, he is the sole survivor of the +house. I am willing—nay, anxious—to recognise him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! How truly generous of you!" There was no telling whether the +speech was genuine, or another sneer.</p> + +<p>"He cannot bear the title, but I can make him my heir. He may succeed +to the position in due course—I hardly care how soon."</p> + +<p>"Are you mocking me, Lord Essendine?"</p> + +<p>"I am in sober earnest. I will do what I say, but only on one +condition."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And that is?"</p> + +<p>"That you give up the child, absolutely, and forever."</p> + +<p>"What! part with the only thing left me to love and cherish—"</p> + +<p>"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyers "before your emotion +overpowers you. We happen to be able to judge of the extent of your +affection for your only son."</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"We know you care so little for him that for month, you never see the +child. It was left in England when you went to the Crimea—"</p> + +<p>"With my husband. Besides, I could not have made a nursery of Lord +Lydstone's yacht."</p> + +<p>"And since you settled in London you have sent it to a nurse in the +country."</p> + +<p>"It was better for the child."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you know best. However, this discussion is unnecessary. Will +you comply with his lordship's conditions, and part with the child?"</p> + +<p>"Never!"</p> + +<p>"Remember, the offer will not be renewed."</p> + +<p>"And what, pray, would become of me? You deprive me of +everything—present joy in my offspring, his affection in coming +years. I shall be alone, friendless—a beggar, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"As to that, you must trust to his lordship's generosity."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Little as you deserve it," added Lord Essendine, meaningfully.</p> + +<p>She turned on him at once.</p> + +<p>"Of what do you accuse me?"</p> + +<p>"Of much that I forbear to repeat now. But I will spare you—I will +leave you to your own conscience and—"</p> + +<p>"What else, pray?"</p> + +<p>"The law. It may seize you yet, madam, and it has a tight grip."</p> + +<p>"I shall not remain here to be so grossly insulted. If you have +anything more to say to me, my lord, you must write."</p> + +<p>"And you refuse to give up the child?"</p> + +<p>"You had better put your proposals on paper, Lord Essendine. I may +consider them in my child's interests, although the separation would +be almost too bitter to bear. I may add, however, that I will consent +to nothing that does not include some settlement on myself—"</p> + +<p>"As to that," said the lawyer, "his lordship declines to bind +himself—is it not so, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"Quite; I will make no promises. But she will not find me ungenerous +if she will accept my terms."</p> + +<p>And so the interview ended. There was no further reference made to the +unpleasant facts now brought to light by the letter and documents sent +over by Hyde. Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still call her, knew that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[145]</a></span> +could not dispute them; that any protest in the shape of law +proceedings would only make more public her own shame and +discomfiture. But if she was beaten she would not confess it yet; and +at least she was resolved that the enemy who had so ruthlessly +betrayed her should not enjoy his triumph.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_XIII" id="CHAPTER_2_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>HUSBAND AND WIFE.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Wilders's first and only idea after she left Lincoln's Inn was to +get to Paris as soon as she could. She no longer counted on much +assistance from Ledantec, nor, indeed, had she much belief in him now; +but she yet hoped he might help her to obtain revenge. Whatever it +cost her, Rupert Gascoigne must pay the penalty of thwarting her when +she seemed on the very threshold of success.</p> + +<p>Having desired her maid to pack a few things, she hastily realised all +the money she had at command and started by the night-mail for Paris.</p> + +<p>Paris! Like the husband she had wronged and deserted, she had not +visited the gay city for years. Not since she had thrown in her lot +with an unspeak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[147]</a></span>able villain, joining and abetting him in a vile plot +against the man to whom she was bound by the strongest ties in +life—by loyalty, affection, honour, truth.</p> + +<p>"I hate going back there," she told herself, as the Calais express +whirled her through Abbeville, Amiens, Creil. "Hate it, dread it, more +than I can say."</p> + +<p>And this repugnance might be interpreted into some glimmering remnant +of good feeling were it not due to vague fears of impending evil +rather than to shame and remorse.</p> + +<p>She was landed at an early hour at the hotel she resolved to +patronise: a quiet, old-fashioned house in the best part of the Rue de +Rivoli, overlooking the gardens of the Tuileries.</p> + +<p>She was shown to a room, and proceeded at once to correct the ravages +of the night journey. A handsome woman still, but vain, like all her +sex, and anxious to look her best on every occasion.</p> + +<p>Hastily swallowing a cup of coffee, as soon as her toilette was +completed she issued forth and took the first cab she could find.</p> + +<p>"To the Porte St. Martin," she said; "lose no time."</p> + +<p>Arrived there, she alighted, dismissed the cab, and proceeded on foot +to the Faubourg St. Martin, to the house we have visited already, and +in which our friend Hyde was still a prisoner.</p> + +<p>Simply mentioning her name, she passed by the porter with the air of +one who knew her road, although it was probably the first time she had +come there. On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[148]</a></span> the sixth floor she knocked as Hyde had done, and was +admitted much as he had been.</p> + +<p>There was no disguise about her, however, and she sent in her name as +"Mrs. Wilders, just arrived from England, and most anxious to see Mr. +Hobson."</p> + +<p>"You, Cyprienne!" said the man we know, who answered to the names of +both Hobson and Ledantec. "In Paris! This was quite unnecessary. I am +arranging everything. You had my letter?"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Hippolyte, you can't befool me."</p> + +<p>"Why this tone? I tell you I have done everything."</p> + +<p>"You may think so, but in the meantime Rupert has stolen a march on +me. He has got the papers—"</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"It is so. Got them, and placed them, with a full statement, in Lord +Essendine's hands."</p> + +<p>"How do you know this?"</p> + +<p>"From Lord Essendine's own lips?"</p> + +<p>"How can he have done this? He—a prisoner."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"He is fast by the leg. Come and see him. He is in the next room."</p> + +<p>"Here? In our power?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: let us go and see him at once."</p> + +<p>There was a fierce gleam in her eyes, as though she wished to stab +him, wherever she found him, to the heart.</p> + +<p>Hyde was where we had left him, still bound hand and foot to the +bedstead. He had spent a miserable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[149]</a></span> night, he was stiff and sore from +his strange position, and they had given him little or no food. But +his manner was defiant, and his air exulting, as he saw Ledantec and +Cyprienne approach.</p> + +<p>"Have you come to release me? It's about time. You will gain nothing +by keeping me here."</p> + +<p>"Dog! I hate you!" cried Mrs. Wilders, as she struck him a cruel, +cowardly blow on the face.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant greeting from the woman I made my wife."</p> + +<p>"Would that fate had never thrown us together; that I had never heard +your name!"</p> + +<p>"No one can wish it more sincerely than myself," replied Gascoigne. +"It was you who wrecked and ruined my life."</p> + +<p>"And what have you done to me, Rupert Gascoigne? Could you not leave +me in peace? Why follow me to persecute me, to rob me and my son—"</p> + +<p>"Of the proceeds of your infamy?" interrupted Gascoigne, or Hyde, as I +prefer to call him; "I will tell you. Because you dared to plot +against a man I esteem. Whatever has happened to Stanislas McKay, he +owes it, I feel confident, to you. I may never see him again—"</p> + +<p>"You never will, and for a double reason. Do not hope, Rupert +Gascoigne, to leave this place again."</p> + +<p>And she looked capable of taking his life then and there.</p> + +<p>"Come, come! Cyprienne; you are going too far. Mr. Gascoigne has not +behaved very well, perhaps, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[150]</a></span> it is not for us to call him to +account. We will leave him to the myrmidons of the law. He is wanted, +we know, by the police."</p> + +<p>"Am I?" said Hyde, mockingly; "so are others, as you will find. At +this moment the house is surrounded. The authorities have long had +their eye on Hippolyte Ledantec, <i>alias</i> Hobson, the Russian spy."</p> + +<p>The confederates looked at each other uneasily, and Ledantec said—</p> + +<p>"It can hardly be so. But it will be well to ascertain and take +precautions. Come! there is a way out of this house known only to me."</p> + +<p>And, so saying, he went towards the door, followed by Mrs. Wilders. +Suddenly he paused, surprised by a loud knocking outside.</p> + +<p>They heard the old woman's voice angrily asking who was there; they +heard the reply, spoken loudly and authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"The police! Open, in the name of the law. Open! or we shall break the +door down."</p> + +<p>Next minute the apartment was invaded by a <i>posse</i> of police, all of +whom were drawn to where Hyde was by his loud cries of "Here! Here!"</p> + +<p>"Let no one move," said the chief of the police, briefly. "What is the +meaning of this? Who are you?" This was to Ledantec.</p> + +<p>"My name is Mr. Hobson, a British subject, and member of the press. I +shall require you to explain this intrusion."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"His real name is Ledantec!" cried Hyde, interposing. "Ex-gambler, and +now spy in the pay of the Russians. This woman is his accomplice."</p> + +<p>"And who may you be?" said the police-officer, turning to Hyde.</p> + +<p>"I know this gentleman," put in the <i>attaché</i> whom Hyde had seen at +the Embassy. "He is a British officer—Mr. Hyde."</p> + +<p>"I know better!" cried Ledantec, with a scornful laugh. "I denounce +him as Rupert Gascoigne, the perpetrator of the murder in Tinplate +Street, fifteen years ago. The case cannot yet be forgotten at the +Prefecture."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" said the chief of the police, looking curiously at +Hyde. "Surely I should recognise you. I was one of those from whom you +escaped by jumping into the Seine."</p> + +<p>"I do not deny that I am the man," replied Hyde, calmly. "But I am +innocent, and only ask a fair trial."</p> + +<p>"We must arrest you, anyway. Keep what you have to say for the judge. +Come! bring them along; it's altogether a fine morning's work."</p> + +<p>And within an hour Hyde found himself in his old quarters—a separate +cell of the depôt of the Prefecture. The other prisoners were lodged +there also, but apart from him and each other.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_XIV" id="CHAPTER_2_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE SCALES REMOVED.</h3> + + +<p>The capture made by the police in the Faubourg St. Martin was kept +secret. Under the Second Empire nothing was published except with the +permission of the authorities, and they had their reasons for not +talking too openly of Hyde's arrest. He was a British subject, a +military officer moreover, and these were claims to the consideration +of French justice that would not have been so readily recognised +fifteen years before.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, inevitable that the affair of Tinplate Street +should be re-opened. But a new complexion was given to it by the +recent arrests. Hyde had been interrogated at once by the magistrate +who had examined him before; the same man, but so different;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[153]</a></span> no +longer insolently positive and threatening unjustly, but bland, +considerate, obliging. The fact was he had had a hint from his +superiors to treat the Englishman gently.</p> + +<p>"The truth must come out now," Hyde had said, when asked if he +remembered the circumstances of his former arrest. "You have the real +culprit in custody."</p> + +<p>"This Ledantec, I suppose?" asked the judge.</p> + +<p>"It was he who struck the blow; I saw him with my own eyes, as I told +you years ago. Then he escaped by the window into a back-street; I +followed him, but he was too quick for me. A cab waited for him, +picked him up, and he was driven away."</p> + +<p>While Hyde was speaking the judge had turned over the pages of a +voluminous document in front of him,—a detailed report of the +previous interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Your story does not vary. You have either an excellent memory, +or—" and the stern magistrate smiled quite archly—"or you are +really telling me the truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth! I can swear to it."</p> + +<p>"What is more, your story is in the main corroborated. Shortly after +your escape we laid hands on the very cabman who had helped Ledantec +away. He described the scene as you have, and through him we got upon +the trace of his fare—Ledantec, as you call him."</p> + +<p>"But you never arrested him?"</p> + +<p>"Until now he carefully kept away from Paris."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you have him now on a double charge."</p> + +<p>"Him and his accomplice. Justice will be satisfied, never fear."</p> + +<p>"How long will you keep me here?"</p> + +<p>"I regret that for the present it will be impossible to release you. +We are compelled first to verify the facts before us. But in a few +days at the latest I hope your trouble will be at an end. You have +powerful friends, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>"The British Embassy, I suppose?" said Hyde, complacently.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and his Imperial Majesty has deigned to go personally into your +case."</p> + +<p>"Then I can wait events calmly and without fear."</p> + +<p>Presently, when Hyde had been removed, Ledantec was introduced, and +was received with the brutal harshness which was the judge's habitual +manner towards prisoners.</p> + +<p>"Your name, profession, address?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Silas Hobson, an English journalist, residing in Duke Street, St. +James's, London."</p> + +<p>"It is false! You have no right to the name of Hobson. You are not an +Englishman. You may reside in London, but it is only temporarily."</p> + +<p>"Who am I then?" asked Ledantec with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"In Paris, at your last visit, you passed as Hippolyte Ledantec, but +your real name is Serge Michaelovitch Vasilenikoff. You are a Russian +by birth, by profession a gambler, a blackleg, a cheat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ledantec, as I shall still call him, merely shrugged his shoulders in +sarcastic helplessness at this abuse.</p> + +<p>"You are worse. You are a spy in the service of the enemies of the +State; an unconvicted murderer—"</p> + +<p>He bent his eyes upon the prisoner with a piercing gaze, to watch the +effect of this accusation.</p> + +<p>Ledantec never blenched, and the judge presently continued—</p> + +<p>"You are the real author of the crime in Tinplate Street."</p> + +<p>"M. Rupert Gascoigne is your informant, I presume," said Ledantec +sneering; "it is easy to rebut a charge by throwing it on another. But +you are too clever, M. le Juge, to be imposed upon."</p> + +<p>"You at least cannot hoodwink me. We have the fullest evidence, let me +tell you, of the crime—all the crimes—laid to your charge. Your +accomplice has confessed."</p> + +<p>This was said to try the prisoner, and it succeeded, for he started +slightly at the word "crimes."</p> + +<p>"Accomplice! Of whom do you speak?"</p> + +<p>"There is a woman in custody who has been associated with you for +years. It was she who instigated you to the robbery and murder of the +Baron d'Enot. She joined you when you fled from the gambling-den in +Tinplate Street, and shared your flight from Paris. She was with you +in St. Petersburg till you separated after a violent quarrel—"</p> + +<p>"The blame was hers," interrupted Ledantec.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Possibly, but you were equally to blame. In any case she left you to +shift for herself. She entered a great English family by a false +marriage, and, when next you met her, conspired with her to bring the +wealth of that family within her grasp. You again became her guilty +partner, and plotted to take the life of the heir to a noble English +title and great estates."</p> + +<p>He was referring now to McKay, but Ledantec, misled by a guilty +conscience, was thinking of Lord Lydstone, and his mysteriously sudden +death.</p> + +<p>"That was her doing!" he cried remorsefully. "In removing Lord +Lydstone—"</p> + +<p>The judge caught quickly at the new name.</p> + +<p>"You removed, or, more plainly, you murdered Lord Lydstone at the +instigation of your accomplice—is that so?"</p> + +<p>Ledantec would not confess to this, but the judge felt certain that he +had come upon the track of another dreadful crime.</p> + +<p>"There is enough against you," he went on slowly, "to convict you a +dozen times over, enough to send you to the guillotine. Your only hope +will be to make a clean breast of everything. By helping us to convict +your accomplice you may save your forfeited life."</p> + +<p>"But I shall be sent to the galleys; to Toulon or Brest. Life as a +French galley-slave is worse than death."</p> + +<p>"You will not think so when the alternative is put before you," said +the judge, dryly; "and my advice to you is to make a full +confession."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ledantec shook his head, but it was with far less assurance than he +had shown at the beginning of his examination. It was clear that he +saw himself fast in the toils; that the law held him tight in its +clutch; that unqualified submission was the only course to pursue.</p> + +<p>He had spoken fully and unreservedly, confessing freely to every +guilty deed in his long career of wickedness, possessing the judge +with every detail of his own and his accomplice's crimes, when that +accomplice was brought up for interrogation in her turn.</p> + +<p>She was ghastly pale: the rough ordeal of imprisonment had robbed her +dress and demeanour of all its coquetry; but she faced the magistrate +with self-possessed, insolent effrontery, and met his stern look with +cold, unflinching eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why am I brought here?" she began, fiercely. "How dare you detain me? +You and your masters shall answer for this ill-usage. I am an English +lady, belonging to one of the proudest families in the country. The +British Embassy, the British nation, will call you to the strictest +account."</p> + +<p>"Ta! ta! ta!" said the judge, with a gesture of the hand essentially +French; "I think you are slightly mistaken; you are no more English +than I am. I know you, and all about you, Cyprienne +Vergette—otherwise Gascoigne, otherwise Wilders.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you a little of your early history? How you eloped from +Gibraltar, where your father was Vice-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[158]</a></span>Consul; how you came to Paris +with your lover; your marriage, your life, your desertion of your +husband, your association with Ledantec, your second marriage, your +plots against Milord Essendine and his family, your murder—"</p> + +<p>"It is a lie!" she interrupted him, hastily. "I never committed +murder."</p> + +<p>"You compassed Lord Lydstone's death, although you did not strike the +blow. You would have caused the death of another English officer, but, +happily, he has escaped your murderous intrigues."</p> + +<p>Only that morning the French journals had copied from the English an +account of McKay's almost providential escape on the 18th of June.</p> + +<p>"But your last attempt has failed utterly. Mr.—" he referred to +his papers for the name—"McKay is safe within the British lines. The +agent you employed to inveigle him into danger is dead, but with his +last breath he confessed that he had had his orders from you. Now, +Cyprienne Vergette, what have you to say?"</p> + +<p>"I deny everything. I protest against your jurisdiction."</p> + +<p>"The Assize Court will hear, but scarcely admit, your plea. That +tribunal and its president will deal you as you deserve."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[159]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_2_XV" id="CHAPTER_2_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>L'ENVOI.</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Burlington Castle</i> made a short halt at Constantinople, and +another, somewhat longer, at Malta; a third was to be made at +Gibraltar, where two of our most important characters proposed to +leave the ship.</p> + +<p>The delay at Malta was to allow Miss Hidalgo to make her appearance in +the Supreme Court as principal witness against the baker, Giuseppe +Pisani, commonly called Valetta Joe.</p> + +<p>The British military authorities in the Crimea had hesitated to deal +summarily with the spy's offence. He might have been hanged out of +hand under the Mutiny Act; but such swift retribution, however richly +merited, was obnoxious to our general's sense of justice.</p> + +<p>He preferred to leave the criminal to the ordinary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[160]</a></span> tribunals of his +native island. It could adjudge and carry out any punishment short of +death, if so inclined. In the Crimea the capital sentence only would +have been possible.</p> + +<p>The trial was short and summary. Mariquita, dressed still in the +sober, quaker-like garb of a hospital-nurse, said what she had to say +in a few simple words. Her sweet face and artless manner were the +admiration of the whole court, and there was a little round of +applause as it came out that she had ventured so far and braved so +much out of love for the gallant soldier who was leaning on his +crutches close by her side.</p> + +<p>Valetta Joe was found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment for four +years, and with his conviction the reader's interest in him will +probably cease. It disposed of the last of McKay's active enemies; +Benito, as we have seen, had died in Balaclava hospital, and Cyprienne +Vergette and her accomplice were in the grip of the French law.</p> + +<p>The enemies had disappeared; friends only remained. When he landed at +Gibraltar numbers came to greet him, from the Governor himself to the +Tio Pedro and the old crone his wife. Letters had already assured them +of Mariquita's safety, and they wept crocodile tears of joy as they +clasped her once more in their arms.</p> + +<p>They were her only relatives, and as such McKay was compelled to +surrender his love to them for a time. But only for the very briefest +time. He measured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[161]</a></span> their affections at its true value, and had no +compunction in asserting his claim over theirs to protect and cherish +her.</p> + +<p>He easily persuaded them and Mariquita, but with some tender +insistence, to hurry on the marriage, and it took place within a few +short weeks of their return to the Rock. Why should he wait? He was +his own master; the only relative whose consent and approval he +coveted—his mother—had already promised gladly to accept the girl of +his choice.</p> + +<p>His great relatives, the Essendines, might question the propriety of +the match, anxious that he should look higher, and find his future +bride amongst the aristocracy to which he now rightly belonged.</p> + +<p>That was a point on which he meant to please himself, and did.</p> + +<p>When, after a short honeymoon at Granada, the young married couple +returned to Gibraltar and travelled leisurely homewards, Lord +Essendine was one of the first to welcome him on arrival, and to +congratulate him on the beauty of his bride.</p> + +<p>By-and-by, when the days of mourning were ended, Lady Essendine came +out of her strict retirement to present Mrs. McKay at Court; and the +handsome Spanish girl with the strange romantic history was one of the +greatest successes of the next London season. Ere long the future +succession of the Essendine title was assured beyond doubt. McKay was +blessed with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[162]</a></span> a numerous family—many sons came to satisfy the head of +the house that the title of Essendine and the family name were in no +danger of extinction. But Lord Essendine lived for many years after +the termination of the Crimean war, and McKay was a general officer +and a Knight of the Bath before he became the fifteenth Earl of +Essendine.</p> + +<p>Having thus disposed of the hero whose early career was so chequered +and eventful, I must add a word as to the fate of the other actors in +this veracious narrative.</p> + +<p>First as to Hyde, who continued to be known by that name to his death, +preferring it greatly to the other, with its painful memories. He +remained a prisoner in the depôt of the Prefecture only a few days. +The confession made by Ledantec and the evidence of other witnesses so +amply attested the innocence of the M. Gascoigne accused of the +Tinplate Street murder that his release followed as a matter of +course. Hyde waited in Paris to hear the issue of the trial of the +real offenders, and, painful as it was to be present at the sentence +of the woman who had once borne his name, he yet listened without +flinching to the whole story. After all, there was a certain relief in +knowing that he was well rid of her. It was little likely that the +Central prison to which she was consigned in perpetual "reclusion" +would ever surrender its prey.</p> + +<p>He heard, too, with lively satisfaction, the sentence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[163]</a></span> of his old foe, +Ledantec, to hard labour at the galleys for twenty years.</p> + +<p>With these trials, and the penalties that followed them, he turned +down for ever the dark page of his life, and presently returned to +England, where he spent the remainder of his leave with his old friend +and comrade, McKay.</p> + +<p>After that had expired he returned to the Crimea, and was present at +the closing scenes of the war. He continued to serve with the Royal +Picts for many years more—the regiment had become his home—and, as +he was in due course promoted to the post of paymaster, his position +and income were materially changed.</p> + +<p>He lived to a green old age, retiring from the service full of rank +and honour. Colonel Hyde was long a notable figure at his club in Pall +Mall, which gained a new and very popular <i>chef</i> when Anatole Belhomme +wrote him that he had been summarily dismissed from the French police. +Hyde spent a great portion of every year at Essendine Castle, after +his friend had succeeded to the estates, and there was no more +honoured guest than he at the coming of age of Rupert, Viscount +Lydstone, his godson.</p> + +<p>The boy whom Mrs. Wilders had hesitated to surrender to old Lord +Essendine, from greed rather than maternal instinct, was not neglected +by the old peer. After the mother had passed out of sight, the son was +brought up decently, given a good education, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[164]</a></span> eventually started +in life. He adopted the military profession, and was not denied the +support and encouragement of Stanislas McKay.</p> + +<p>Our hero was able to help his uncle, too, the much-aggrieved +functionary of the Military Munition Department, and secured for him +the decoration he had so long coveted in vain.</p> + +<p>Uncle Barto, the worthy captain of the <i>Burlington Castle</i>, made a +snug fortune by his commercial ventures during the war, and paid +regular visits to his nephew, Stanny. Mrs. McKay, or Countess of +Essendine as she became, could never forget what she owed for his +generous hospitality on board the <i>Burlington</i>.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[167]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BLUE_BLOOD" id="BLUE_BLOOD"></a>BLUE BLOOD.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_I" id="CHAPTER_3_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>"The idea is simply preposterous. I decline to entertain it. I cannot +listen to it—not for one moment. Never!"</p> + +<p>The speaker was Mrs. Purling, "heiress of the Purlings"; imperious, +emphatic, self-opinionated, as women become who have had their own way +all their lives through.</p> + +<p>"But, mother," went on Harold, her only son—like herself, large and +broadly built; but, unlike her, quiet and rather submissive in manner, +as one who had been habitually kept under—"I am really in earnest. I +am absolutely sick of doing nothing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because you won't do what you might. There is plenty for you to do. +Has not the Duchess asked you to Scotland? You refuse—and such a +splendid invitation! I have offered you a yacht. I say you may share a +river in Norway with dear Lord Faro. I implore you to drive a coach, +to keep racehorses, to take your place in the best society, as the +representative of the Purling—"</p> + +<p>"Pills?" put in Harold, with a queer smile.</p> + +<p>His mother's face grew black instantly.</p> + +<p>"Harold, do not dare to speak in that way. My father's memory should +be respected by my only son."</p> + +<p>Old Purling had made all his money by a certain chemical compound +which had been adopted by the world at large as a panacea for every +ill. But the heiress of the Purlings hated any reference to the +Primeval Pills, although she owed to them her wealth.</p> + +<p>"I want a profession," Harold said, returning to his point. "I want +regular employment."</p> + +<p>"Well, I say go into the Guards."</p> + +<p>"I am too old. Besides, peace-soldiering, and in London, would never +suit me, I know."</p> + +<p>"Read law; it is a gentlemanly occupation."</p> + +<p>"But most uninteresting. Now medicine—"</p> + +<p>"Do not let me hear the word; the mere idea is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[169]</a></span> intolerable. My son, +the heir of the Purlings must not condescend so low."</p> + +<p>"Considering my own father was a doctor," cried Harold, rather hotly.</p> + +<p>"Not a mere doctor. A man of science, of world-wide repute, is not like +a general practitioner, with a red lamp and an apothecary's shop, +where he makes up—"</p> + +<p>"Pills?" said Harold, again. He was throwing down the gauntlet indeed. +Mrs. Purling had never known him like this before.</p> + +<p>"Leave the room, Harold. I decline to speak to you further, or again, +unless you appear in a more obedient and decorous frame of mind."</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Purling was what she was, the chances of her life and her +father were principally to blame. He had begun life as an errand-boy, +and ended it as a millionnaire; but long before he ended he had +forgotten the beginning. He had a sort of notion that he belonged to +one of the old families in the county wherein he had bought wide +estates, and he himself styled his only daughter "the heiress of the +Purlings," as if there had been Purlings back for generations, and he +was the last, not the first, of his race. It was he who had +indoctrinated her with ideas of her own im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[170]</a></span>portance; and these same +views had taken so strong a hold of him that he found it quite +impossible to mate his daughter according to his mind. He was +ambitious, as was natural to a <i>nouveau riche</i>; wide awake, or he +would not have made so much money. Not one of the crowds of suitors +who came forward was exactly to his taste. He would have preferred a +man of title, but the peers who were not penniless were too proud; and +the best baronet was an aged bankrupt, who had been twice through the +courts, and enjoyed an indifferent name. It was strange that Isabel +did not cut the Gordian knot, and choose for herself; but she was a +dutiful daughter, and little less cautious than her father. In the +midst of it all he was called away on some particular business of his +own—to another world—and Isabel was left alone, past thirty, and +unmarried still.</p> + +<p>The <i>rôle</i> of single blessedness may be charming to a man of means, +but it is often extremely irksome to an heiress in her own right. Miss +Purling was like a pigeon that escapes from the inclosure at a +match—an aim for every gun around. Great ladies took her up, as a +kindness to their younger sons; briefless barristers, with visions of +the Woolsack, besought her to help them to the first step—a seat in +the House; clergymen with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[171]</a></span> great views prayed her to join them in some +stupendous charitable work, that must win for them the lawn-sleeves; +more than one impecunious soldier pleaded with her for their tailors, +whose bills without her help they were quite unable to pay. She seemed +a common prey, fair game for every hand. This developed in her an +undue amount of suspicion and a certain hardness of heart. She began +to doubt whether there was one disinterested man in the whole world.</p> + +<p>But before many years had passed she realised that unless she married +there could be no prospect of peace. Already she had quarrelled with a +dozen companions of her own sex; she wished now to try one of the +other. But men seemed tired of proposing to her. She had the character +of being as hard and cold as iron; and no one cared to run his head +against a wall. If she wanted a husband now the proposal must come +from her. Miss Purling in her heart rather liked the notion; it gave +her a chance of posing like a queen in search of a consort, and years +of independence had made her very queenlike and despotic indeed. So +much so, that the only man to suit her must be a mere cipher without a +will of his own; and he was difficult to find. Men of the kind are not +plentiful unless they plainly perceive substantial advantage from +assuming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[172]</a></span> the part. But few guessed what kind of man would exactly +suit Isabel Purling, so there were few pretenders.</p> + +<p>Among those who flocked to her <i>soirées</i>—she was fond of entertaining +in spite of her disabilities as a single woman—was a meek little +professor, who lodged in Camden Town, and who came afoot in roomy +goloshes, which now and again, in a fit of abstraction, he carried +upstairs and laid upon the tea-table or at his hostess's feet, as +though the carpet was damp and he feared she might run the risk of +catarrh. He was reputed to be extremely erudite, a ripe scholar, and +of some fame in scientific research. But of all his discoveries—and +he had made many under the microscope and in space—the most +surprising was the discovery that a lady who owned a deer-park and +many thousands a-year desired him to make her his wife. But he was an +obliging little man, always ready to do a kind thing for anybody; and +he obliged Miss Purling in the way she wished—after all, at some cost +to himself. The marriage meant little less than self-effacement for +him; he was to take his wife's name instead of giving her his; he was +to forego his favourite pursuits, and from an independent man of +science pass into a mere appendage to the Purling property—part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[173]</a></span> and +parcel of his wife's goods and chattels as much as the park-palings, +or her last-purchased dinner-service of rare old "blue."</p> + +<p>It was odd that Miss Purling's choice should have fallen where it did; +for her tendencies were decidedly upward, and she would have dearly +loved to be styled "my lady," and to have moved freely in the society +of the "blue-blooded of the land." It was her distrustfulness which +had stood in the way. She feared that in an aristocratic alliance she +could not have made her own terms. And with the results of this +marriage with Dr. Purling—as he was henceforth styled—she had every +reason to be pleased. He proved a most exemplary husband—the chief of +her subjects, nothing more; a loyal, unpretending vassal, who did not +ask to share the purple, but was content to sit upon the steps of the +throne. He continued a shy, reserved, unobtrusive little man to the +end of the chapter; and the chapter was closed without unnecessary +delay as soon as the birth of a son secured the succession of the +Purling estates. Dr. Purling felt there was nothing more required of +him, so he quietly died.</p> + +<p>His widow raised a tremendous tablet to his memory, eulogising his +scientific attainments and domestic worth; but, although she appeared +inconsolable, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[174]</a></span> was secretly pleased to have the uncontrolled +education of her infant son. An elderly lady with a baby-boy is like a +girl with a doll—just as the little mother dresses and undresses its +counterfeit presentment of a child in wax and rags, crooning over its +tiny cradle, talking to it in baby-language, pretending to watch with +anxious solicitude its every mood, so Mrs. Purling found in Harold a +plaything of which she never tired. She coddled and cosseted him to +her heart's content. If he had cried for the moon some effort would +have been made to obtain for him the loan of that pale planet, or the +best substitute for it that could be got for cash. If his finger +ached, or he had a pain in his big toe, he was physicked with half the +Pharmacopœia; he underwent divers systems of regimen, was kept out +of draughts, cautioned against chills, cased in red flannel; he might, +to crown all, have been laid by in cotton-wool. His mother's over-much +care ought to have killed him; but he had inherited from her a fine +physique, and the lad was large-limbed, healthy, and well grown.</p> + +<p>And this vigilant supervision was prolonged far beyond the time when +youths are emancipated usually from their mother's control. Long after +he had left college, and was launched out upon the world, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[175]</a></span> kept +her hands upon the reins, ruling him with a sharp bit, and driving him +the road she decided it was best for him to go. Mrs. Purling had grown +more and more imperious with advancing years, impatient of +contradiction, self-satisfied, very positive that everything she did +was right. She could not brook opposition to her wishes. Those who +dared to thwart her must do it at their peril; no nature but one +entirely subservient would be likely to continue permanently in accord +with hers; and it was easy to predict troubles in the future between +mother and son unless he yielded always a complete and docile +submission to her will.</p> + +<p>For a long time Harold wore his chains without a murmur. Obedient +deference had been a habit with him from childhood, and, however +irksome and galling the slavery, it was not until he had made +practical acquaintance with the actual value of the life she wished +him to lead that there arose in him a disposition to rebel. Mrs. +Purling had all along been chafed with the notion that she did not +enjoy that social distinction to which as a wealthy woman she +considered herself entitled. In her own estimation she ranked very +high; but the best families of the neighbourhood did not accept her +valuation. Some went so far as to call her a vulgar old snob; and +"snobbish," as we understand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[176]</a></span> the word, she certainly was. She +worshipped rank; and it was a very sore point with her that she was +not freely admitted into the best society of the county in which she +lived. She looked to Harold to redress her wrongs. Where she failed, a +handsome young fellow, of engaging presence and heir to a fine estate, +must assuredly succeed. He might, if he chose, be acceptable anywhere. +There was no limit to her dreams. He might mate with a duke's +daughter; and after such an alliance—who would presume to question +the social rights of the Purlings?</p> + +<p>It was therefore her chief and greatest desire to make a man of +fashion of her son. Her purse was long—he might dip into it as deep +as he pleased. Let him but take his proper position, on an equality +with the noblest and best, and all charges would be gladly defrayed by +her. She wanted him to be a dandy, <i>répandu</i> in society, a member of +the Coaching Club, well known at Prince's, at Hurlingham, at Lord's; +sought after by dowagers; intimate with royalties; she would not have +seriously resented a reputation for a little wickedness, provided he +erred in the right direction—with people of the blue blood, that is +to say—and the scandal did not go too far.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, Harold's tastes and inclinations lay all in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[177]</a></span> the opposite +direction. In external appearance he favoured his mother, in +disposition he was his father's son. Like him reserved—he would have +been shy but for his training at school and college, which had rubbed +the sensitive skin off his self-consciousness; like him studious too, +thoughtful, quiet, with scientific tastes and proclivities. His +friends in familiar talk called him "Old Steady"; he had never got +into debt or serious trouble. Even in the midst of the whirling maze +of London life he continued steadfastly sober and sedate.</p> + +<p>Here at once was to be found the germ of discord between mother and +son, the first gap or chink in their friendly relations, which might +widen some day into a yawning breach. But yet Mrs. Purling could find +no fault with her son. She might resent the staid sober-mindedness of +his conduct; but she was perforce compelled to confess that he was a +dear good son, affectionate, devoted, considerate; and there was much +solid comfort in the thought that the good name of the Purlings, as +well as their substantial wealth, could be safely intrusted to his +hands. This she readily allowed; and, had he continued obedient and +tractable until he was grey-haired, Mrs. Purling might have gone down +into her grave without a shadow of excuse for quarreling with her +son.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was when he was past five-and-twenty that there arose between them +misunderstanding, at first only a small cloud no bigger than a man's +hand. Harold suddenly declared that he was sick of gallivanting about +the fashionable world; sick of idleness—sick of the silly purposeless +existence he led; and thereupon announced his intention of studying +medicine seriously and as a profession. Mrs. Purling was at first +aghast, then argumentative, finally indignant. But Harold remained +inflexible, and she grew more and more wrathful. It led at length to +something like a rupture between them. She received the news of his +success in the schools with grim contempt, condescending only to ask +once whether he wished her to buy him a practice, or whether he meant +to put up a red lamp at the family-mansion in Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>Her persistent implacability gave Harold much pain, but he did not +despair of bringing her round in the end; only, to avoid further +dissensions, he wisely resolved to keep out of her way: and as soon as +he had gained his diploma he started for Germany, intending to +prosecute his studies abroad.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[179]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_II" id="CHAPTER_3_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>It was not until he had been absent more than a year that Mrs. Purling +appeared to relent. She began to yearn after her son; she missed him +and was disposed to be reconciled, provided he would but meet her +half-way. At first she sent olive-branches in the shape of munificent +letters of credit over and above his liberal allowance; then came more +distinct overtures in lengthy epistles, which grew daily warmer in +tone and plainly showed that her resentment was passing rapidly away. +These letters of hers were her chief pleasure in life; she prided +herself on her ability to wield the pen. When, instead of a few curt +sentences in brief acknowledgment of his letters, his mother resumed +her old custom of filling several sheets of post with advice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[180]</a></span> gossip, +odds and ends of news, mixed with stray scraps of wisdom culled from +Martin Tupper, Harold began to hope that the worst was over and that +he would soon be forgiven in set form.</p> + +<p>And he was right. Pardon was soon extended to him, not quite +unconditional, but weighted merely with terms which—Mrs. Purling +thought—no sensible man could hesitate to accept.</p> + +<p>She only asked him to settle in life. He must marry some day—why not +soon? Not to anybody, of course,—he must be on his guard against +foreign intriguing sirens, who would entangle him if they could,—but +to some lady of rank and fashion, fitted by birth and breeding to be +the mother of generations of Purlings yet to be. This was the +condition she annexed to forgiveness of the past; this the text upon +which she preached in her letters week after week. The doctrine of +judicious marriage appeared in all she wrote with the unfailing +regularity of the red thread that runs through all the strands of +Admiralty rope.</p> + +<p>Harold smiled at the reiteration of these sentiments; smiled, but he +had misgivings. Herein might be another source of disagreement between +his mother and himself. Would their respective opinions agree as to +the style of girl most likely to suit him? Then he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[181]</a></span> began to consider +what style of girl his mother would choose; and while he was thus +musing there came a missive which plainly showed Mrs. Purling's hand.</p> + +<p>"I have been at Compton Revel for a week—"</p> + +<p>"I wonder," thought Harold, when he had read thus far, "why they asked +her there? My dear old mother must have been in the seventh heaven of +delight. She always longed to be on more intimate terms with Lady +Calverly."</p> + +<p>"I have been at Compton Revel for a week," his mother said, "and met +there a Miss Fanshawe, one of Lord Fanshawe's daughters, who seemed to +me quite the nicest girl I have ever known. I took to her directly; +and without conceit I may be permitted to say that I think she took +quite as readily to me. We became immense friends. She was at such +pains to be agreeable to an uninteresting old woman like myself that I +feel convinced she has a good heart. I confess I was charmed with her. +It is not only that she is strikingly handsome, but her whole bearing +and her style are so distinguished that she might be descended from a +long line of kings—as I make no doubt she is.</p> + +<p>"Of course she has moved only in the best circles; her mother being +dead, she has been introduced by the Countess of Gayfeather, and goes +with her ladyship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[182]</a></span> everywhere. Just imagine, she has been to +State-balls at the Palace; the Prince has danced with her, and she has +been spoken to by the Princess! You know how I enjoy hearing all the +news of the great world, and Miss Fanshawe has been so obliging as to +amuse me for hours with descriptions of all she has seen and +heard—not a little, I assure you; she is not one of those flighty +girls who have no ears but for flattery, no eyes but for young men; +she is observant, critical perhaps, but strikingly just in her +strictures on what goes on around. I find she has thought out several +of the complex problems of our modern high-pressure life; and really +she gave me very valuable ideas upon my favourite theory of +'lady-helps,' to which I am devoting now so much of my spare time.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanshawe has promised to pay me a long visit at Purlington some +day soon—a real act of kindness which I fully appreciate. It will +indeed be a treat to a lonely old woman to find so entertaining a +guest and companion.</p> + +<p>"When do you think of returning? Gollop tells me there are plenty of +pheasants this year. Surely, you have had enough of those dry German +<i>savants</i> and that dull university-town?"</p> + +<p>The hook was rather coarsely baited; it would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[183]</a></span> hardly have deceived +the most guileless and unsuspecting. Harold Purling at a glance could +read between the lines; he could trace effect to cause, and readily +understood why his mother was so anxious for his return.</p> + +<p>"One of Lady Gayfeather's girls, is she? I never thought much of that +lot. However—but why on earth should Lady Calverly take my dear +mother up in this way, at the eleventh hour?"</p> + +<p>He would have wondered yet more if he had seen how cordially Mrs. +Purling had been welcomed to Compton Revel.</p> + +<p>"It is so good of you to come to us," Lady Calverly said, with +effusion. "We are so glad to have you here, and have looked forward to +it for so long."</p> + +<p>For about seventeen years, in fact, during which time Lord and Lady +Calverly had completely ignored the existence of their near neighbour, +Mrs. Purling. Compton Revel might have been a paradise, and the +heiress an exiled peri waiting at the gates.</p> + +<p>The party assembled was after Mrs. Purling's own heart. They were all +great people, at least in name; and the heiress of the Purlings was +heard to murmur that she did like to be in such good society—she felt +so perfectly at home. And they all made much of her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[184]</a></span> One night she +was handed in to dinner by a Duke, another by an ex-Cabinet Minister. +The latter made her feel proud, for the first time in her life, of her +son, and the line he had adopted so sorely against her will.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Purling's paper on toxicology," he said, "is quite the cleverest +thing that has appeared on the subject. My friend, Sir William—," +he mentioned a physician of world-wide repute, "considers that Mr. +Purling will go far."</p> + +<p>Lady Calverly followed suit by declaring that Mr. Purling was a +pattern young man, everyone gave him so good a character. They <i>did</i> +hope to see him at Compton Revel directly he got back to England.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Fanshawe metaphorically prostrated herself before Mrs. +Purling, and by judicious phrases and ready sympathy completely won +her good-will.</p> + +<p>"You certainly made an impression upon her, Phillipa," said Lady +Calverly afterwards.</p> + +<p>"She is a vain and rather silly old woman," Miss Fanshawe replied. +Language that might have opened Mrs. Purling's eyes.</p> + +<p>"But I am very glad you became such good friends. Purlington is a very +desirable place."</p> + +<p>Here, then, was a faint clue to the mystery of Mrs. Purling's tardy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[185]</a></span>reception at Compton Revel. Intrigue—not necessarily base, but +covered by the harmless phrase, "It would be so very nice"—was at +work to bring about a match between Miss Fanshawe and Harold Purling. +She was one of a large family of girls and her father was an +impoverished peer. Besides, her career so far had not been an unmixed +success. Lady Gayfeather's young ladies had the reputation of being +the "quickest" in the town.</p> + +<p>"I have met the son," went on Lady Calverly.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Phillipa's tone was one of absolute indifference.</p> + +<p>"He is a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I have always heard of him as a solemn prig—'Old Steady' he was +named at college. I confess I have no special leaning to these very +proper and decorous youths."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that you are harping still on that old affair. I assure +you Gilly Jillingham is unworthy of you. You are not thinking still of +each other, I sincerely hope?"</p> + +<p>"I may be of him," said Phillipa bitterly. "He is not likely to think +of any one—but himself."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forgive myself for surrendering you to Lady Gayfeather. +Nothing but misery seems to hang about her and her house. This last +affair—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>There had been a terrible scandal, not many months old, and hardly +forgotten yet, which had roused Lady Calverly to remove her cousin, +Phillipa Fanshawe, from the evil influences of Lady Gayfeather's set. +Whether or not the rescue had come in time it would be difficult to +say. Miss Fanshawe could hardly escape scot-free from her +associations, nor was it to her advantage that rumour had bracketed +her name with that of a successful but not popular man of fashion. +There had been a talk of marriage, but he had next to nothing; no more +had she.</p> + +<p>"We must have an end to all that," said Lady Calverly decisively. "You +must promise me to forget Mr. Jillingham for good and all."</p> + +<p>"Of course," replied Phillipa; but the pale face and that sad look in +her weary eyes belied her words.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if she had shot her bolt at the target of life's +happiness, and that the arrow had fallen very wide of the gold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[187]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_III" id="CHAPTER_3_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>When old Purling bought the —shire estates there was an ancient +manor-house on the property, a picturesque but inconvenient residence, +which did not at all come up to his ideas of a country gentleman's +place. It was therefore incontinently pulled down, and one of the most +fashionable architects of the day, having <i>carte blanche</i> to build, +erected a Palladian pile of wide frontage and imposing dimensions on +the most prominent site he could find. It ought to have haunted its +author like a crime; but he was spared, and the punishment fell upon +the innocent who dwelt around. There was no escape from Purlington, so +long as you were within a dozen miles of it. Wherever you went and +wherever you looked, down from points of vantage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[188]</a></span> or up from quiet +dells, this great white caravanserai, with its glittering plate-glass +panes and staring stucco, forced itself upon you with the unblushing +effrontery of a brazen beauty, with painted face and bedizened in +flaunting attire. But the heiress thought it was a very splendid +place, with its pineries, conservatories, its acres of glass, and its +army of retainers in liveries of rainbow hues. Mrs. Purling was a +little afraid of her servants, albeit strong-minded in other respects; +but it was natural she should submit to a coachman who had once worn +the royal livery, or quail before a butler who had lived with a duke.</p> + +<p>The butler met Harold on his return, extending to him a gracious +patronising welcome, as if he were doing the honours of his own house.</p> + +<p>"Misterarold," he cried, making one word of the name and title, "this +is a pleasant surprise. You wus not expected, sir; not in the least."</p> + +<p>"My mother is at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; out. In the kerridge. She drove Homersham way."</p> + +<p>"See after my things. Here are my keys." And Harold passed on to the +little morning-room which Mrs. Purling called her own. Having the +choice of half-a-dozen chambers, each as big as Exeter Hall, she +pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[189]</a></span>ferred to occupy habitually the smallest den in the house. To his +surprise he found the room not untenanted. A young lady was at the +book-case, and she turned seemingly in trepidation on hearing the door +open.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanshawe," thought Harold, as he advanced with eyes that were +unmistakably critical.</p> + +<p>"I must introduce myself," he said. "I am Harold."</p> + +<p>"The last of the Saxon kings?"</p> + +<p>"No; the first of the Purling princes. I know you quite well. Has my +mother never mentioned me?"</p> + +<p>"I only arrived yesterday," the young lady replied, rather evading the +question.</p> + +<p>"My mother must be delighted. She told me she was looking forward +eagerly to your promised visit."</p> + +<p>"She really spoke of me?"</p> + +<p>"In her letters; again and again."</p> + +<p>"I hardly thought—"</p> + +<p>"That you had taken her by storm? You have; and I was surprised, for +she is not easily won."</p> + +<p>Not a civil speech, which this girl only resented by placing a pair of +old-fashioned double glasses across her small nose, and looking at him +with a gravity that was quite comical.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But now that I have met you I can readily understand."</p> + +<p>The same look through the glasses; sphinx-like, she seemed impervious +both to depreciation and compliment.</p> + +<p>"And she has left you alone all the morning? I am afraid you must have +been bored."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I had my work."</p> + +<p>It was an exquisite piece of art needlework. Water-lilies and yellow +irises on a purple ground. She confessed it was her own design.</p> + +<p>"And books?"</p> + +<p>He took up Schlegel's <i>Philosophy of History</i> in the original.</p> + +<p>"You read German?"</p> + +<p>"O yes."</p> + +<p>"And Italian? and French? and Sanscrit—without doubt?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite; but I have looked into Max Müller, and know something of +Monier Williams."</p> + +<p>And this was one of Lady Gayfeather's girls! Was this a new process, +the last dodge in the perpetual warfare between maidens and mankind?</p> + +<p>Harold looked at the prodigy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>In appearance she was quite unlike the conventional type of a London +young lady of fashion. Her fresh dimpled cheeks wore roses and a +pearly bloom that spoke of healthy hours and a tranquil life; her +dress was quiet almost to plainness; there was nothing modern in the +style of her coiffure; Lobb would not have been proud of her boots. +Her fair white hands were innocent of rings; she wore no jewelry; +there was no gold or silver about her, except for the gold-rimmed +glasses that made so curious a contrast to her young face, with its +merry eyes and frame of mutinous curls.</p> + +<p>"You will not be angry," said Harold earnestly, "if I tell you that +you are not in the least what I expected to find you, Miss +Fanshawe—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanshawe!" Her gay laugh was infectious. "I'm afraid—"</p> + +<p>But just now the butler came in to say that the carriage was coming up +the drive. Harold went out to meet his mother, without noticing that +the young lady also got up and hurriedly left the room.</p> + +<p>"It's just like you, you stupid boy!" said the heiress. "Why did you +give me no notice?"</p> + +<p>"I meant to have written from Paris. But it's all for the best. You +were quite right. She is perfectly charming."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanshawe. I have made her acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"In town?"</p> + +<p>"No, here; in your own morning-room."</p> + +<p>"What!" The ejaculation contained volumes. "Was there ever anything so +annoying! But it is all your fault for coming so unexpectedly."</p> + +<p>"What harm? We introduced ourselves, Miss Fanshawe—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Fiddlesticks! That's Dolly Driver, your father's cousin!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Then I wish I had made the acquaintance of my father's +cousins a little earlier in life. Why have I been kept in ignorance of +my relatives? Where do they live?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purling, instead of answering him, took him by the arm abruptly, +as if to ask him some searching question; then suddenly checking +herself, she said—</p> + +<p>"Have you had lunch? It must be ready. Come into the dining-room."</p> + +<p>"Will not Miss Driver join us?"</p> + +<p>"She will go to the housekeeper's room, where she ought to have been +sitting, and not in my boudoir."</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"It's as well to be plain-spoken. Dolly Driver is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[193]</a></span> of our rank in +life. Her parents are miserably poor. Nevertheless,"—as if the crime +hardly deserved such liberal pardon,—"I am not indisposed to help +them. She is going to a situation."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl! Companion or governess? or both?"</p> + +<p>"Neither; she will be either housemaid or undernurse."</p> + +<p>Harold almost jumped off his chair.</p> + +<p>"A girl like that! as a domestic servant! Mother, it's a disgraceful +shame!"</p> + +<p>"The disgrace is in the language you permit yourself to use to me. +Your travels have made you rather boisterous and <i>gauche</i>. What +disgrace can there be in honest work? Household work is honourable, +and was once occupation for the daughters of kings. Happily the world +grows more sensible. I look to the day as not far distant when the +wide-spread employment of lady-helps will solve that terrible +problem—the redundancy of girls."</p> + +<p>"My cousin will not continue redundant, I feel sure."</p> + +<p>"She is not your cousin."</p> + +<p>"Whether or no, she should be spared the degradation you propose. She +is a girl of culture, highly educated. You cannot condemn her to the +kitchen."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The lady-helps have their own apartment; but I decline to justify +myself."</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Purling lapsed into silence. There was friction between them +already.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she asked, when lunch was over.</p> + +<p>"To the housekeeper's room."</p> + +<p>"Harold, I forbid you. It's highly improper—it's absolutely +indelicate."</p> + +<p>"She is my cousin; besides there is a <i>chaperone</i>, Mrs. Haigh, or I'll +call in the cook."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to set me at defiance?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to do what I consider right, even although my views may not +coincide with yours, mother."</p> + +<p>For the rest of the day, indeed, Harold never left his newly-found +cousin's side. The heiress fumed and fretted, and scolded, but all in +vain. There was a new kind of masterfulness about her son which for +the moment she was powerless to resist.</p> + +<p>"Of course she will dine with us," Harold said. And of course she did, +although Mrs. Purling looked as if she wished every mouthful would +choke her. Of course Harold called her Dolly to her face; was she not +his cousin? Quite as naturally he would have given her a cousinly kiss +when he said good-night, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[195]</a></span> something in her pure eyes and modest +face restrained him.</p> + +<p>Certainly she was the nicest girl he had ever met in his life.</p> + +<p>"Where's Doll?" he asked next morning at breakfast. "Not down?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver is half-way to London, I hope," replied Mrs. Purling, +curtly. She was not a bad general, and had taken prompt measures +already to recover from her temporary reverse.</p> + +<p>"I shall go after her."</p> + +<p>"If you do, you need not trouble to return."</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said, but anger filled the hearts of both mother and +son.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[196]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_IV" id="CHAPTER_3_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>"I expect my dear friend, Miss Fanshawe, in a few days, Harold. I +trust you will treat her becomingly."</p> + +<p>"One would think I was a bear just escaped from the Zoo. Why should +you fear discourtesy from me to any lady?"</p> + +<p>"Because she is a friend of mine. Of late you seemed disposed to run +counter to me in every respect."</p> + +<p>"I have no such desire, I assure you," said Harold, gravely; and there +the matter ended.</p> + +<p>The preparation for Miss Fanshawe's reception could not have been more +ambitious if she had been a royal princess. With much reluctance Mrs. +Purling eschewed triumphal arches and a brass band, but she +redecorated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[197]</a></span> the best bedroom, and sent two carriages to the station, +although her guest could hardly be expected to travel in both.</p> + +<p>"<i>This</i> is Miss Fanshawe," said the heiress, with much emphasis—"the +Honourable Miss Fanshawe."</p> + +<p>"The Honourable Miss Fanshawe is only a very humble personage, not at +all deserving high-sounding titles," said the young lady for herself. +"My name is Phillipa—to my friends, and as such I count you, dear +Mrs. Purling; perhaps some day I may be allowed to say the same of +your son."</p> + +<p>She spoke rapidly, with the fluent ease natural to a well-bred woman. +In the subdued light of the cosy room Harold made out a tall, slight +figure, well set off by the tight-fitting ulster; she carried her head +proudly, and seemed aristocratic to her finger-tips.</p> + +<p>"I should have known you anywhere, Mr. Purling," she went on, without +a pause. "You are so like your dear mother. You have the same eyes."</p> + +<p>It was a wonder she did not use the adjective "sweet"; for her tone +clearly implied that she admired them.</p> + +<p>"I hear you are desperately and astoundingly clever," she continued, +like the brook flowing on for ever. "They tell me your pamphlet on +vivisection<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[198]</a></span> was quite masterly. How proud you must be, Mrs. Purling, +to hear such civil things said of his books!"</p> + +<p>"Do you take sugar?" Harold asked, as he put a cup of tea into a hand +exquisitely gloved.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him sharply, but failed to detect any satire behind +his words.</p> + +<p>Harold thought that there was too much sugar and butter about her +altogether. Even thus early he felt antipathetic; yet, when they were +seated at dinner, and had an opportunity of observing her at leisure, +he could not deny that she was handsome, in a striking, queenly sort +of way; but he thought her complexion was too pale, and, at times, +when off her guard, a worn-out, harassed look came over her face, and +a tinge of melancholy clouded her dark eyes. But it was not easy to +find her off her guard. The unceasing strife of several seasons had +taught her to keep all the world at sword-point; she was armed +<i>cap-à-pie</i>, and ready always to fight with a clever woman's keenest +weapons—her eyes and tongue. Upon Harold she used both with +consummate skill; it was clear that she wished to please him, +addressing herself principally to him, asking his opinion on +scientific questions, coached up on purpose, and listening attentively +when he replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How wise you have been to keep away from town these years! One gets +so sick of the perpetual round."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought it truly delightful," said Mrs. Purling, who, +of course, took the unknown for the magnificent.</p> + +<p>"Any honest labour would be preferable."</p> + +<p>"Turn lady-help; that's my mother's common advice."</p> + +<p>"Harold, how dare you suggest such a thing to Miss Fanshawe? Do you +know she is a peer's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you said housework would do for the daughters of kings; and +you have proposed it to our cousin, Dolly Dri—"</p> + +<p>"Were you at Ryde this year, Phillipa?" asked Mrs. Purling, promptly.</p> + +<p>"No—at Cowes. We were yachting. Dreary business, don't you think, Mr. +Purling?"</p> + +<p>"I rather like it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you have a pleasant party and an object. But mere +cruising"—Miss Fanshawe was quick at shifting her ground.</p> + +<p>"And you are going to Scotland?"</p> + +<p>"Probably; and then for a round of visits. Dear,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[200]</a></span> dear, how I loathe +it all! I had far rather stay with you."</p> + +<p>The heiress smiled gratefully. It was, indeed, the dearest wish of her +heart that Phillipa should stay with her for good and all, and she was +at no pains to conceal the fact. To Phillipa she spoke with +diffidence, doubting whether this great personage could condescend to +favour her son. But there was no lack of frankness in the old lady's +speech.</p> + +<p>"If you and he would only make a match of it!"</p> + +<p>Miss Fanshawe squeezed Mrs. Purling's hand affectionately.</p> + +<p>"I like him, I confess. More's the pity. I'm sure he detests me."</p> + +<p>"As if it were possible!"</p> + +<p>"Trust a girl to find out whether she's appreciated. Mr. Purling, for +my sins, positively dislikes me; or else he has seen some one already +to whom he has given his heart."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purling shook her head sadly, remembering artful Dolly Driver.</p> + +<p>"You do not know all your son's secrets; no mother does."</p> + +<p>"I do know this one, I fear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Purling described the absurd mistake in identity.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry?" she went on. "For my part, I was furious. But +nothing shall come of it, I solemnly declare. Harold will hardly risk +my serious displeasure; but he shall know that, sooner than accept +this creature as my daughter, I would banish him for ever from my +sight."</p> + +<p>"It will not come to that, I trust," said Phillipa, earnestly, and +with every appearance of good faith.</p> + +<p>"Not if you will help me, as I know you will."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purling was resolved now to issue positive orders for Harold to +marry Miss Fanshawe—out of hand. But next day Phillipa suddenly +announced her intention of returning to town.</p> + +<p>"You promised to stay at least a month." The heiress was in tears.</p> + +<p>"I am heartily sorry; but Cæcilia—Lady Gayfeather—is ill and alone. +I must go to her at once."</p> + +<p>"You have a feeling heart, Phillipa. This is a sacred duty; I cannot +object. But I shall see you again?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as I can return, dear Mrs. Purling—if you will have me, that +is to say."</p> + +<p>The story of Lady Gayfeather's illness was a mere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[202]</a></span> fabrication. What +summoned Phillipa to London was this note:</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> see you. Can you be at Cæcilia's on Saturday?—G."</p> + +<p>Phillipa sat alone in Lady Gayfeather's drawing-room, when Mr. +Jillingham was announced.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm broke, simply."</p> + +<p>"You don't look much like it."</p> + +<p>To say the truth, he did not; he never did. He had had his ups and +downs; but if he was down he hid away in outer darkness; if you saw +him at all, he was floating like a jaunty cork on the very top of the +wave. He was a marvel to everyone; it was a mystery how he lasted so +long. Money went away from him as rain runs off the oiled surface of a +shiny mackintosh coat. And yet he had always plenty of it; eclipses he +might know, but they were partial; collapse might threaten, but it was +always delayed. He had still the best dinners, the best cigars, the +best brougham; was <i>bien vu</i> in the best society: had the best +boot-varnish in London, and wore the most curly-brimmed hats, the envy +of every hatter but his own. To all outward seeming there was no more +fortunate prosperous man about town; the hard shifts to which he had +been put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[203]</a></span> at times were known only to himself—and to one other man, +who had caught him tripping once, and found his account in the fact. +The pressure this man excited drove Gilly Jillingham nearly to +despair. He was really on the brink of ruin at this moment, although +he stood before Phillipa as reckless and defiant as when he had first +won her girlish affections, and thrown them carelessly on one side.</p> + +<p>"How can I help you?" asked Phillipa, when he had repeated his news.</p> + +<p>"I never imagined you could; but you take such an interest in me, I +thought you might like to know."</p> + +<p>"And you have dragged me up to London simply to tell me this?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. You always took a delight in coming when I called."</p> + +<p>It was evident that he had a strong hold over her. She trembled +violently.</p> + +<p>"Are these lies I hear?" he went on, speaking with mocking emphasis. +"Can it be possible you mean to marry that cub?"</p> + +<p>"Who has been telling you this?"</p> + +<p>"Answer my question."</p> + +<p>"What right have you to ask?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The best. You know it. Have you not been promised to me +since—since—"</p> + +<p>"Well, do you wish me to redeem my promise? I am ready to marry you +now—to-day, if you please. Ruined as you are, reckless, unprincipled, +gambler—I know not what—"</p> + +<p>"That's as well. But I am obliged to you; I will not trespass on your +good-nature. I shall have enough to do to keep myself."</p> + +<p>"We might go to a colony."</p> + +<p>"I can fancy you in the bush!"</p> + +<p>"Anything would be preferable to the false, hollow life I lead. I want +rest. I could pray for it. I long to lay my head peacefully where—"</p> + +<p>"Wherever you please. Try Mr. Purling's shoulder. You have my full +permission."</p> + +<p>Phillipa's eyes flashed fire at this heartless <i>persiflage</i>.</p> + +<p>"There is no such luck."</p> + +<p>"Can he dare to be indifferent? How you must hate him!"</p> + +<p>"As I did you."</p> + +<p>"And do still? Thank you. But I wish you joy. When is it to be?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tell you there is absolutely nothing between us. Mr. Purling is, to +the best of my belief, engaged already."</p> + +<p>"Not with his mother's consent, surely? Why, then, has she made so +much of you?"</p> + +<p>"No; not with her consent; indeed, it is quite against her wish. Mrs. +Purling as much as told me that if her son married this cousin he +would be disinherited. They do not agree very well together now."</p> + +<p>"It's all hers—the old woman's—in her own right?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I know."</p> + +<p>Gilly Jillingham lay back in his chair and mused for a while.</p> + +<p>"It's not a bad game if the cards play true."</p> + +<p>His evil genius, had he been present, might have hinted that sometimes +the cards played for Mr. Jillingham a little too true.</p> + +<p>"Not a bad game. Phillipa, how do you stand with this old beldame?"</p> + +<p>"She pretends the most ardent affection for me."</p> + +<p>"There are no other relatives, no one she would take up if this son +gave unpardonable offence?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of. Besides, she calls me her dear daughter already."</p> + +<p>"And would adopt you, doubtless, if the cub were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[206]</a></span> got out of the way. +Yes, it can be done, I believe, and you can do it, Phillipa, if you +please. Only persuade the old lady to make you the heiress of the +Purlings, and there will be an end to your troubles—and mine."</p> + +<p>Soon after this conversation Miss Fanshawe returned to Purlington. The +heiress smothered her with caresses.</p> + +<p>"I shall not let you go away again. We have missed you more than I can +say."</p> + +<p>"And you also, Mr. Harold? Are you glad to see me again?"</p> + +<p>Harold bowed courteously.</p> + +<p>"Of course; I have been counting the hours to Miss Fanshawe's return."</p> + +<p>"Fibs! I can't believe it."</p> + +<p>By-and-by she came to him.</p> + +<p>"Why cannot we be friends, Mr. Purling? It pains me to be hated as you +hate me."</p> + +<p>"You are really quite mistaken," Harold began.</p> + +<p>"I am ready to prove my friendship. I know all about Miss +Driver—there!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where she is at this present moment?" Harold asked, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"You really wish to know? Your mother will tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[207]</a></span> me, I daresay. How +hard hit you must be! But there is my hand on it. You shall have all +the help that I can give."</p> + +<p>Next day she told him.</p> + +<p>"Miss Driver is at Harbridge."</p> + +<p>"In service?"</p> + +<p>"No; at home. They live there. Her father is a Custom-house officer."</p> + +<p>That evening Harold informed his mother that important business called +him away. She remonstrated. How could he leave the house while Miss +Fanshawe was still there? What was the business? At least he might +tell his mother; or it might wait. She could not allow him to leave.</p> + +<p>Mere waste of words; Harold was off next morning to Harbridge, and +Phillipa reported progress to her co-conspirator.</p> + +<p>"It promises well," said Gilly. "I may be able to muzzle that +scoundrel after all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[208]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_V" id="CHAPTER_3_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>A quaint old red-sandstone town; the river-harbour crowded with small +craft, but now and again, like a Triton among the minnows, a +timber-brig or a trading-barque driven in by stress of weather. When +the tide went out—as it did seemingly with no intention of coming +back, it went so far—the long level sands were spotted with groups of +fisherfolk, who dug with pitchforks for sand-eels; while in among the +rocks an army of children gleaned great harvests of a kind of seaweed, +which served for food when times were hard.</p> + +<p>These rocks were the seaward barrier and break-water of the little +port, and did their duty well when, as now, they were tried by the +full force of a westerly gale. It is blowing great guns; the hardy +sheep that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[209]</a></span> usually browse upon the upland slopes must starve perforce +to-day—they cannot stand upon the steep incline; the cocks and hens +of the cottagers take refuge to leeward of their homes; every gust is +laden with atoms of sand or stone, which strike like hail or small +shot upon the face. See how the waves dash in at the outlying rocks, +hurrying onward like blood-hounds in full cry, scuffling, struggling, +madly jostling one another in eagerness to be first in the fray; +joining issue with tremendous crash, only to be spent, broken, +dissipated into thin air. Overhead the sky changes almost with the +speed of the blast; sometimes the sun winks from a corner of the +leaden clouds and tinges with glorious light the foam-bladders as they +burst and scatter around their clouds of spray; in between the +headlands the sea is churned into creaming froth, as though the +housewives of the sea-gods with unwearying arms were whipping "trifle" +for some tremendous bridal-feast.</p> + +<p>The houses at Harbridge mostly faced the shore, but all had stone +porches, and the doors stood not in front, but at one side. The modest +cottage which Mr. Driver called his own was like the rest; but as he +enters, for all his care, a keen knife-edged gust of the pushing wind +precedes him and announces his return. Next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[210]</a></span> instant the little lobby +is filled: a bevy of daughters, the good house-mother, one or two +youngsters dragging at his legs, everyone eager to welcome the +breadwinner home. They divest him of his wraps, soothing him the while +with that tender loving solicitude a man finds only at his own happy +hearth.</p> + +<p>He unfolds his budget of news: a lugger driven by stress of weather +upon the Castle Rock; suspicions of smuggling among the rough beyond +Langness Cove; Dr. Holden's new partner arrived last night.</p> + +<p>"I have asked him to come up this evening. A decent sort of chap."</p> + +<p>Forthwith they fired a volley of questions. Was he old or young, +married or single? had he blue eyes or brown? and how was he called?</p> + +<p>To all papa makes shift to reply. The name he had forgotten, also the +colour of his hair; but the fellow had eyes and two arms and two legs; +he did not squint; had a pleasant address and all the appearance of an +unmarried man.</p> + +<p>"How could you see that, wise father?" asked Doll.</p> + +<p>"He looked so sheepish when I mentioned my daughters. Doubtless he had +heard of you, Miss Doll, and of your dangerous wiles."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>She pinched his ear. They were excellent friends, were father and +eldest daughter. Mr. Driver, a scholar and a man of letters, who had +been thankful to exchange an uncertain footing upon the lower rungs of +the ladder of literature for a small post under Government, had for +years devoted his talents to the education of the children. In Dolly, +as his most apt pupil, he took a peculiar pride.</p> + +<p>"Come in, doctor!" cried Mr. Driver that night. "We are all dying, but +only to make your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>The new visitor was checked at the very threshold by Dolly's cry—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Purling!"</p> + +<p>And Harold stood confessed to his cousins without a chance of further +disguise.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Harold, you mean," he said, as he offered Dolly his hand.</p> + +<p>She tried hard to hide her blushes; and then and there Mrs. Driver, +after the manner of mothers, built up a great castle in the air, which +her husband shook instantly to its foundations by asking +unceremoniously and not without a shade of angry suspicion in his +tone—</p> + +<p>"Why did you not claim relationship this morning?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>He disliked the notion of a man stealing into his house under false +colours.</p> + +<p>"I waited for you to speak. You heard my name."</p> + +<p>"I did not catch it clearly. Besides, I had never heard of you. None +of us have. Your mother did not choose to recognise the relationship."</p> + +<p>"She called you a tide-waiter," said his wife indignantly.</p> + +<p>"At least I'm not a white-tied waiter," cried Mr. Driver, with a +laugh, in which all joined. Then in low voice Dolly said—</p> + +<p>"I met Mr. Purling at Purlington."</p> + +<p>At which her father turned upon her with newly-raised suspicion. Why +had she not mentioned the fact before? But something in Mrs. Driver's +face deterred him. A woman in these matters sees how the land lies, +while the cleverest man is still unable to distinguish it from the +clouds upon the horizon-line.</p> + +<p>"We are pleased to know you, Harold," said Mrs. Driver, a gentle, +soft-voiced motherly person.</p> + +<p>"You have really come to practise here?" went on the father, still +rather on his guard.</p> + +<p>"I wanted sea-air. The change will do me good," replied Harold, rather +evasively. "I like the place, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not a doubt of it. Harbridge was after his own heart, and so were some +people who lived in it. He found it so much to his taste that he +declared within a week or two that he thought of remaining there +altogether. He would go into partnership with the local doctor; +perhaps he had another partnership also in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Can't you see what's going on under your nose, father?" asked Mrs. +Driver.</p> + +<p>"What do I care? I shall not interfere."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Purling will never give her consent. Poor Doll!"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> for Mrs. Purling and her consent!" said Mr. Driver, snapping +his fingers. "Doll is ever so much too good for them—well, not for +him; he is an honest, straightforward fellow: but as for that selfish, +silly, purse-proud old woman, she may thank Heaven if she gains a +daughter like Doll."</p> + +<p>That this was not Mrs. Purling's view of the question was plainly +evident from a letter which awoke Harold rather rudely from his rosy +dreams.</p> + +<p>"So at length I have found you out, Harold. I never dreamt you could +be so deceitful and double-faced. To talk of clinical lectures in +town, and all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[214]</a></span> time at Harbridge, philandering with that forward, +intriguing girl! Only with the greatest difficulty have I succeeded in +learning the truth. Phillipa—who, it seems, has known your secret all +along, and to whom, I find, you have constantly written—could not +continue indifferent to my distress of mind. Although she has shielded +you so far with a magnanimity that is truly heroic, she has interposed +at length only to save my life.</p> + +<p>"I desire you will come to me at once. Do not disobey me, Harold. I am +very seriously displeased, and will only consent to forgive the past +when I find you ready to bend your stubborn heart to obey my will."</p> + +<p>Harold started at once for home. He hoped rather against hope that he +might talk his mother over; but her aspect was not encouraging when he +met her face to face.</p> + +<p>No tragedy-queen could have assumed more scorn. Mrs. Purling, having +thrown herself into several attitudes, fell at length into a chair.</p> + +<p>"I never thought it," she said; "not from my own and only child. The +serpent's tooth hath not such fangs, such power to sting, as the base +ingratitude of one undutiful boy. But this fills the cup. I have done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[215]</a></span> +with you—for ever, unless you give me your sacred word of honour now, +at this minute, never to speak to Dolly Driver again."</p> + +<p>"Such a promise would be quite impossible under any circumstances, but +I distinctly refuse to give it—upon compulsion."</p> + +<p>"Then you have fair warning. Not one penny of my money shall you ever +possess. I will never see you again."</p> + +<p>"I sincerely trust the last is only an empty threat, my dearest +mother."</p> + +<p>She made a gesture as though she were not to be beguiled by soft +words.</p> + +<p>"As for the money, it matters little. Thank God, I have my +profession."</p> + +<p>"At which you will starve."</p> + +<p>"By which I shall earn my bread as my father did. Besides, I can fall +back upon the reputation of the Family Pills."</p> + +<p>"I see you wish to goad me beyond endurance, Harold. Go!"</p> + +<p>"For good and all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; except on the one alternative. Will you give up this idiotic +passion? You refuse. It is on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[216]</a></span> your own head, then. Go—go till I send +for you, which will be never!"</p> + +<p>Harold went without another word—to Harbridge, overcame Dolly's +scruples, secured the practice, and within a month was married and +settled.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purling, in Phillipa's presence, made a great parade of burning +her will.</p> + +<p>"He has brought it all on himself, unnatural boy! But you, darling +Phillipa, will never treat me thus. <i>Noblesse oblige.</i> The bright blue +blood that fills your veins would curdle at a <i>mésalliance</i>, I know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Purling was quite calm and self-possessed, while Miss Fanshawe, +strange to say, seemed agitated enough for both. Her hands trembled, +she looked away; only with positive repugnance she submitted to her +new mother's affectionate embrace. A woman who is capable of the most +cold-blooded calculating intrigue may yet have an access of remorse. +Phillipa's heart was heavy now at the moment of her triumph. It cost +her more than a passing pang to remember that she had robbed Harold +Purling of his birthright, and had turned to her own base purpose the +foolish cravings of the silly mother's heart.</p> + +<p>But she had put aside self-upbraiding when she met her lover in town.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Faith, you are a trump, Phillipa; but it's not much too soon. When +will you take your reward?"</p> + +<p>"Meaning Mr. Jillingham? Is the reward worth taking, I wonder?" For a +moment she held him at bay. "Suppose I were to refuse you now at the +eleventh hour? It is for you to sue. I am not what I was. Mrs. Purling +calls me the heiress of the Purlings, and we may not consider Mr. +Gilbert Jillingham a very eligible <i>parti</i>."</p> + +<p>"You dare not refuse me, Phillipa," said Gilly very seriously. "I +should expose your schemes, and we should go to the wall together. No, +there is no escape for you now; our interests are identical."</p> + +<p>"How am I to introduce you upon the scene?"</p> + +<p>"Quite naturally; I shall go and stay at Compton Revel. They will have +me, for your sake, if not for my own. I shall begin <i>de novo</i>—at the +very beginning: be smitten, pay you court, win over the heiress, and +propose."</p> + +<p>So it fell out, and they also were married before the end of the +year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[218]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_3_VI" id="CHAPTER_3_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>Mean as had been their conduct towards Mrs. Purling and her son, +Phillipa and her husband were not to be classed with common +adventurers of the ordinary type. Born in a lower station, Gilly +Jillingham might have taken honours as a "prig"; in his own with less +luck he might have been an Ishmaelite generally shunned. Phillipa also +might have degenerated into a mere soured cackling hanger-on; but they +were not pariahs by caste, but Brahmins, and entitled to all due +honour so long as they floated on top of the wave. Perhaps if near +drowning no finger would have been outstretched to save; but there +were plenty to pat them on the back as they disported themselves on +the sound dry land. Fair-weather friends and needy relatives rallied +round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[219]</a></span> their prosperity, of course; but they were also accepted as +successful social facts by the whole of that great world which judges +for the most part by appearances, being too idle or too much engrossed +by folly to apply more accurate or searching tests. In good society +those who cared to talk twice of the matter blamed Harold; he was +absent; besides, he had gone to the wall, therefore he must be in the +wrong. On the other hand, the Jillinghams deserved the triumph that is +never denied success. To Gilly prosperous were forgiven the sins of +Gilly in social and moral rags. If scandal like an evil gas had been +let loose to crystallise upon Phillipa's good name, the black stains +could not adhere long to so charming a person, who made the Purling +mansion in Berkeley Square one of the best-frequented and most +fashionable in town.</p> + +<p>There were many reasons why the Jillinghams should find their account +in perpetual junketings. Social excitement was as the breath in +Gilly's nostrils; notorious for profuse expenditure even when he was +penniless, he was now absolutely reckless with money that was +plentiful and moreover not his own. Nor was the constant whirl of +gaieties without its charm for Phillipa; it deadened conscience, and +consoled in some measure for the neglect and indifference she soon +en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[220]</a></span>countered at her husband's hands. But the most potent reason was +that it fooled Mrs. Purling to the top of her bent. Self-satisfaction +beamed upon her ample face as she found herself at length in constant +intercourse and on a social equality—as she thought—with the +potentates and powers and great ones of the earth. Gilly Jillingham in +the days of his apogee had been the spoiled favourite of more than one +titled dame; his success must have been great, to measure it by the +envy and hatred he evoked among his fellowmen—even when in the cold +shade there were duchesses who fought for him still; and now, when +once more in full blossom, all his fair friends were ready to pet him +as of old. The form in which their kindness pleased him best—because +it was most to his advantage—was in making much of Mrs. Purling. +Great people have the knack of putting those whom they patronise on +the very best terms with themselves; and Mrs. Purling was so convinced +of her success as a leader of fashion that she would have asked for a +peerage in her own right, taking for arms three pills proper upon a +silver field, if she could have been certain that these honours would +not descend to her recreant son.</p> + +<p>Whether or not, as time passed, she was absolutely happy, she did not +pause to inquire. The devotion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[221]</a></span> her newly-adopted children was so +unstinting, and they kept her so continually busy, that she had not +time for self-reproach. It was a disappointment to her that the +Jillinghams had no prospect of a family, and her chagrin would have +been increased had she known that already a boy and girl had been born +to the rightful heirs at Harbridge. But such news was carefully kept +from her; she was rigorously cut off from all communication with her +son. There was no safety otherwise against mischance; the strange +processes of the old creature's mind were inscrutable; she might in +one spasm of an awakened conscience undo all. For the Jillinghams were +still absolutely dependent upon her; she could turn them out of house +and home whenever she pleased. A small settlement was all the real +property Phillipa had secured. Although with right royal generosity +Mrs. Purling gave her favourites a liberal allowance, and promised +them everything when she was gone, yet was she like a crustacean in +the tenacity of her grip upon her own. This close-fistedness was +exceedingly distasteful to Mr. Jillingham. He had an appetite for gold +not easily appeased, and four or five thousand a year was to him but a +mouthful to be swallowed at one gulp.</p> + +<p>Openly of course he continued on his best behaviour,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[222]</a></span> but behind the +scenes he permitted himself to grumble loudly at the old lady's +meanness and miserly ways.</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand you, Gilbert. I cannot see what you do with all +the money you get," said Phillipa reproachfully one day when they were +alone, and Gilly was enlarging upon his favourite theme. "You live at +free quarters, you have no expenses and ought to have no debts."</p> + +<p>"Have you no debts, pray?"</p> + +<p>"None that you are ignorant of."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Phillipa; listen to me. I spend what I please, how I +please. I shall give no account of it to you, nor to any one else in +the world."</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary. I had rather not be told. I do not care to +know," said Phillipa, womanlike, forgetting that she had begun by +wishing to be informed. She had her own suspicions, but forbore to +question further, lest she might be brought face to face with the +outrages she feared he put upon her.</p> + +<p>"She will take to counting the potatoes next. It's most contemptible. +A mean old brute—"</p> + +<p>"I shall not listen to you, Gilbert. You owe her everything."</p> + +<p>"Do I? I wonder what my tailor would say to that or Reuben Isaac +Melchisedec? I've more than one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[223]</a></span> creditor; they are a prolific and, I +am sorry to say, a long-lived race."</p> + +<p>"I hope Mrs. Purling may live to be a hundred years at least—"</p> + +<p>"I don't. I'd rather she was choked by one of those pills you tell me +she takes every morning and night."</p> + +<p>There was something in his tone which made Phillipa look at him hard. +Was it possible that he contemplated any terrible wickedness? The mere +apprehension made her blood run cold.</p> + +<p>"O Gilly, swear to me that you will not harbour evil thoughts, that +you will put aside the devil who is prompting and luring you to some +awful crime!"</p> + +<p>"Psha, Phillipa, you ought to have gone into the Church. Moderate your +transports—here comes one of the footmen."</p> + +<p>"A person to see you, sir," said the servant. "He 'aven't got any +card, but his business is very particular."</p> + +<p>"I can't see him; send him away. If he won't go call the police."</p> + +<p>"Says his name, sir, is Shubenacady."</p> + +<p>"Take him to the library; I'll come."</p> + +<p>Jillingham's face was rather pale, and his lips were set firm when he +met his visitor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What the mischief do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Five thou—ten—what you please. I know of a splendid investment."</p> + +<p>"In soap?"</p> + +<p>He was the dirtiest creature that ever was seen. He wore a full suit +of black, but the coat and trousers were white with age and +dust-stains; an open waistcoat, exposing an embroidered shirt which +could not have been washed for months; his hat was napless, and had a +limp brim; no gloves, and the grimiest of hands. But he was decorated, +and wore a ribbon, probably of St. Lucifer.</p> + +<p>"In soap, or shavings, or shoddy; what does it matter to you? When can +I have the money?"</p> + +<p>"Never; not another sixpence."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall publish all I know."</p> + +<p>"No one will believe you."</p> + +<p>"I have proofs."</p> + +<p>"Which are forged. I tell you I'm too strong for you: you will find +yourself in the wrong box. I am sick of this; and I mean to put an end +to your extortion."</p> + +<p>"You dare me. You know the consequences."</p> + +<p>"The first consequence will be that I shall give you in charge. Be +off!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You shall have a week to think better of it."</p> + +<p>Gilly rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Shall I send for a policeman, or will you go?"</p> + +<p>He went, muttering imprecations intermixed with threats; but Gilly +Jillingham, quite proud of his courage, seemed for the moment callous +to both. He little dreamt how soon the latter would be put into +effect.</p> + +<p>Within a few days of this interview the greatest event of Mrs. +Purling's whole social career was due; she was to entertain royalty +beneath her own roof. This crowning of the edifice of her ambition +filled her with solemn awe; the preparations for the coming ball were +stupendous, her own magnificent costume seemed made up of diamonds and +bullion and five-pound notes.</p> + +<p>Long before the hour of reception she might have been seen pacing to +and fro with stately splendour, contemplating the daïs erected for +royalty at one end of the room, and thinking with a glow of +satisfaction that the representative of the Purlings had at last come +to her own. At this supreme moment she was grateful to dear Phillipa +and to Gilbert little less dear.</p> + +<p>Then guests began to pour in. Where was Phillipa? Very late; she might +have dressed earlier. A servant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[226]</a></span> was sent to call her, and Phillipa, +hurrying down, met Gilly on the upper floor coming out of Mrs. +Purling's bedroom.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing there?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Purling wanted a fan," said Gilly readily.</p> + +<p>She might want one fan, but hardly two; and had Phillipa been less +flurried she might have noticed that Mrs. Purling had one already in +her hand. But then their Royal Highnesses arrived; the heiress made +her curtsey for the first time in her life, was graciously received, +and the hour of her apotheosis had actually come. Presently the crowd +became so dense that every inch of space was covered; people +overflowed on to the landings, and sat four or five deep upon the +stairs. Dancing was simply impossible; however, hundreds of couples +went through the form. Phillipa, as in duty bound, remained in the +thick of the <i>mêlée</i>, but Gilly had very early disappeared. He +preferred the card-room; his waltzing days were over, he said. He was +playing; it was not very good taste, but there were some men who +preferred a quiet rubber to looking at princes or the antics of boys +and girls, and he wished to oblige his friends.</p> + +<p>"Can you give me a moment, Le Grice?" said Lord Camberwell, coming +into the card-room. "I have had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[227]</a></span> a most extraordinary letter. It +accuses Gilly Jillingham—"</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul," cried old Colonel Le Grice, "a letter of the same +sort has been sent to me!"</p> + +<p>"Have you had any suspicion that he played unfairly?"</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest; I know he always holds the most surprising hands, +that he plays for very high stakes, that he nearly always wins—"</p> + +<p>"Is he winning now?"</p> + +<p>Of course. Mr. Jillingham's luck never deserted him. He was trying now +perhaps to make at one coup sufficient to silence for a further space +his enemy's tongue; the bets upon the odd trick alone amounted to a +thousand or more. But he was too late. His hour had come.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Lord Camberwell spoke in a loud peremptory voice:</p> + +<p>"Stop! Mr. Jillingham is cheating. He does it in the deal. I have +watched him now for three rounds."</p> + +<p>"And so have I," added Colonel Le Grice.</p> + +<p>Gilly sprang to his feet. For a moment he seemed disposed to brazen it +out; then he read his sentence in the face of those who had detected +and now judged him. There was no appeal: he was doomed. From<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[228]</a></span> +henceforth he was socially and morally dead, and, without a word, he +slunk away from the house.</p> + +<p>The buzz of the ball-room soon caught up the ugly scandal, and tossed +it wildly from lip to lip. "Mr. Jillingham caught cheating at cards!" +Everyone said, of course, they had suspected it all along; now every +one knew it as a fact, except those most nearly concerned. To them it +came last. To Phillipa, whose heart it stabbed as with a knife, cut +through and through; then to Mrs. Purling, who, a little taken aback +by the sudden exodus of her guests, asked innocently what it meant, +upon which some one, without knowing who she was, told her the exact +truth.</p> + +<p>Quite stunned by the terrible shock, dazed, terrified, was the +heiress, scarcely capable of comprehending what had occurred. Then +with a sad, scared face, motioning Phillipa on one side, who, equally +white and grief-stricken, would have helped her, she crept slowly +upstairs, feeling that at one blow the whole fabric of her social +repute was tumbled in the dust.</p> + +<p>The lights were out, the play was over, the house still and silent, +when, with loud shrieks, Mrs. Purling's maid rushed to Phillipa's +room.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Purling, ma'am!—my mistress, she is dying! Come to her! She is +nearly gone!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>In truth, the poor old woman was in the extremest agony; it was quite +terrible to see her. She gasped as if for air; her whole frame jerked +and twitched with the violence of her convulsions; gradually her body +was drawn in a curve, like that of a tensely-strung bow.</p> + +<p>The spasms abated, then recommenced; abated, then raged with increased +fury. But through it all she was conscious; she had even the power of +speech, and cried aloud again and again, with a bitter heart-wrung +cry, for "Harold! Harold!" the absent much-wronged son.</p> + +<p>"The symptoms are those of tetanus," said the nearest medical +practitioner, who had been called in. He seemed fairly puzzled. +"Tetanus or—" He did not finish the sentence, because the single +word that was on his lips formed a serious charge against a person or +persons unknown. "But there is nothing to explain lock-jaw; while the +abatement of the symptoms points to—" Again he paused.</p> + +<p>The muscles of the mouth, which had been the last attacked, gradually +resumed their normal condition. The patient appeared altogether more +easy, the writhings subsided; presently, as if utterly exhausted, she +sank off to sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>Harold Purling had come up post-haste from Harbridge; and when the +mother opened her eyes they rested upon her son.</p> + +<p>A hurried consultation passed in whispers between the two doctors. +Phillipa was present; she and the maid had not left Mrs. Purling all +night.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Harold, "you are out of all danger. Tell me—do you +recollect taking anything likely to make you ill?"</p> + +<p>"Only the pills." She pointed to the family medicine—a box of which +stood always by her bedside. She had some curious notion that it was +her duty to show belief in the Primeval Pills, and she made a practice +of swallowing two morning and night.</p> + +<p>Harold opened the box; examined the pills; finally put one into his +mouth and bit it through. Bitter as gall.</p> + +<p>"They have been tampered with," he said. "These contain strychnia. You +have had a narrow escape of being poisoned, dearest mother—poisoned +by your own Pills!"</p> + +<p>He half smiled at the conceit.</p> + +<p>"There has been foul play, I swear. It shall be sifted to the bottom, +and the guilty called to serious account."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the mystery was never solved. If Phillipa had in her heart +misgivings, she kept her suspicions to herself; no one accused her; +there seemed explanation for her cowed and trembling manner in Gilly's +downfall and disgrace. The man himself never reappeared openly; only +now and again he swooped down and robbed Phillipa of all she, +possessed—the thrift of her allowance from Mrs. Purling.</p> + +<p>As for the heiress, surrounded by the real love and warm hearts of her +lineal descendants, she was satisfied to eschew all further +acquaintance with people of the Blue Blood.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE BLOOD***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17434-h.txt or 17434-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/4/3/17434">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/4/3/17434</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood + + +Author: Arthur Griffiths + + + +Release Date: December 31, 2005 [eBook #17434] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE +BLOOD*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +by + +ARTHUR GRIFFITHS, + +Author of "The Chronicles of Newgate," "Fast and Loose," +etc., etc. + +In Two Volumes. + + + + + + + +London: Chapman and Hall +Limited +1886 + + + + +VOL. I + +CONTENTS OF VOL. I. + + CHAPTER I. + THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED + + CHAPTER II. + ARREST AND INTERROGATION + + CHAPTER III. + THE MOUSETRAP + + CHAPTER IV. + A SPIDER'S WEB + + CHAPTER V. + THE WAR FEVER + + CHAPTER VI. + ON DANGEROUS GROUND + + CHAPTER VII. + AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE + + CHAPTER VIII. + A SOUTHERN PEARL + + CHAPTER IX. + OFF TO THE WARS + + CHAPTER X. + A GENERAL ACTION + + CHAPTER XI. + AFTER THE BATTLE + + CHAPTER XII. + CATCHING A TARTAR + + CHAPTER XIII. + "NOT WAR" + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE GOLDEN HORN + + CHAPTER XV. + THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE + + CHAPTER XVI. + HARD POUNDING + + CHAPTER XVII. + A COSTLY VICTORY + + CHAPTER XVIII. + A NOVEMBER GALE + + CHAPTER XIX. + UNCLE AND NEPHEW + + CHAPTER XX. + RED TAPE + + CHAPTER XXI. + AGAIN ON THE ROCK + + CHAPTER XXII. + MR. HOBSON CALLS + + CHAPTER XXIII. + WAR TO THE KNIFE + + CHAPTER XXIV. + MOTHER CHARCOAL'S + + +VOL. II. + +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. + + + CHAPTER I. + SECRET SERVICE + + CHAPTER II. + AMONG THE COSSACKS + + CHAPTER III. + A PURVEYOR OF NEWS + + CHAPTER IV. + IN WHITEHALL + + CHAPTER V. + MR. FAULKS TALKS + + CHAPTER VI. + MARIQUITA'S QUEST + + CHAPTER VII. + INSIDE THE FORTRESS + + CHAPTER VIII. + FROM THE DEAD + + CHAPTER IX. + IN PARIS + + CHAPTER X. + SUSPENSE + + CHAPTER XI. + AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN + + CHAPTER XII. + IN LINCOLN'S INN + + CHAPTER XIII. + HUSBAND AND WIFE + + CHAPTER XIV. + THE SCALES REMOVED + + CHAPTER XV. + L'ENVOI + + +BLUE BLOOD + + + * * * * * + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +VOLUME I + +CHAPTER I. + +THE COMMISSARY IS CALLED. + + +In the Paris of the first half of this century there was no darker, +dingier, or more forbidding quarter than that which lay north of the +Rue de Rivoli, round about the great central market, commonly called +the Halles. + +The worst part of it, perhaps, was the Rue Assiette d'Etain, or +Tinplate Street. All day evil-looking loafers lounged about its +doorways, nodding lazily to the passing workmen, who, blue-bloused, +with silk cap on head, each with his loa under his arm, came to take +their meals at the wine-shop at the corner; or gossiping with the +porters, male and female, while the one followed closely his usual +trade as a cobbler, and the other attended to her soup. + +By day there was little traffic. Occasionally a long dray, on a +gigantic pair of wheels, drawn by a long string of white Normandy +horses in single file, with blue harness and jangling bells, filled up +the roadway. Costermongers trundled their barrows along with strange, +unmusical cries. Now and again an empty cab returning to its stable, +with weary horse and semi-somnolent coachman, crawled through the +street. + +But at night it was otherwise. Many vehicles came dashing down +Tinplate Street: carriages, public and private, of every variety, from +the rattletrap cab hired off the stand, or the decent coach from the +livery stable, to the smart spick-and-span brougham, with its +well-appointed horses and servants in neat livery. They all set down +at the same door, and took up from it at any hour between midnight and +dawn, waiting patiently in file in the wide street round the corner, +till the summons came as each carriage was required. + +As seen in the daytime, there was nothing strange about the door, or +the house to which it gave access. The place purported to be an +hotel--a seedy, out-at-elbows, seemingly little-frequented hotel, +rejoicing in the altogether inappropriate name of the Hotel Paradis, +or the Paradise Hotel. Its outward appearance was calculated to repel +rather than invite customers; no one would be likely to lodge there +who could go elsewhere. It had habitually a deserted look, with all +its blinds and casements close shut, as though its lodgers slept +through the day, or had gone away, never to return. + +But this was only by day. At night the street-door stood wide open, +and a porter was on duty at the foot of the staircase within. He was +on the inner side of a stout oaken door, in which was a small window, +opening with a trap. Through this he reconnoitred all arrivals, +taking stock of their appearance, and only giving admission when +satisfied as to what he saw. + +The Hotel Paradis, in plain English, was a gambling-house, largely +patronised, yet with an evil reputation. It was well known to, and +constantly watched by, the police, who were always at hand, although +they seldom interfered with the hotel. + +But when the porter's wife came shrieking into the street early one +summer's morning, with wildest terror depicted in her face, and +shaking like a jelly, the police felt bound to come to the front. + +"Has madame seen a ghost?" asked a stern official in a cocked hat and +sword, accosting her abruptly. + +"No, no! Fetch the commissary, quick! A crime has been committed--a +terrible crime!" she gasped. + +This was business, and the police-officer knew what he had to do. + +"Run, Jules," he said to a colleague. "You know where M. Bontoux +lives. Tell him he is wanted at the Hotel Paradis." Then, turning to +the woman, he said, "Now, madame, explain yourself." + +"It is a murder, I am afraid. A gentleman has been stabbed." + +"What gentleman? Where?" + +"In the drawing-room, upstairs. I don't know his name, but he came +here frequently. My husband will perhaps be able to tell you; he is +there." + +"Lead on," said the police-officer; "take me to the place. I will see +to it myself." + +They passed into the hotel through the inner portal, and up the stairs +to the first floor, where the principal rooms were situated--three of +them furnished and decorated magnificently, altogether out of keeping +with the miserable exterior of the house, having enormous mirrors from +ceiling to floor, gilt cornices, damask hangings, marble console +tables, and chairs and sofas in marqueterie and buhl. The first room +evidently served for reception; there was a sideboard in one corner, +on which were the remains of a succulent repast, and dozens of empty +bottles. The second and third rooms were more especially devoted to +the business of the establishment. Long tables, covered with green +cloth, filled up the centre of each, and were strewed with cards, dice +and their boxes, croupier's rakes, and other implements of gaming. + +The third room had been the scene of the crime. There upon the floor +lay the body of a man, a well-dressed man, wearing the white +kerseymere trousers, the light waistcoat, and long-tailed green coat +which were then in vogue. His clothes were all spotted and bedrabbled +with gore; his shirt was torn open, and plainly revealed the great +gaping wound from which his life's blood was quickly ebbing away. + +The wounded man's head rested on the knee of the night porter, a +personage wearing a kind of livery, a strongly built, truculent-looking +villain, whose duties, no doubt, comprised the putting of people out as +well as the letting them into the house. + +"Oh, Anatole! my cherished one!" began the porter's wife. "Here are +the police. Tell us then, how this occurred." + +"I will tell all I know," replied her husband, looking at the +police-officer. "This morning, when the clients had nearly all gone, +and I was sitting half asleep in the lodge, I heard--" + +"Stop," said the police-officer, "not another word. Keep all you have +to say for the commissary. He is already on the stairs." + +The next minute M. Bontoux entered, accompanied by his clerk and the +official doctor of the quarter. + +"A crime," said the commissary, slowly, and with as much dignity as +was possible in a middle-aged gentleman pulled from his bed at +daybreak, and compelled to dress in a hurry. "A crime," he repeated. +"Of that there can be no doubt. But let us establish the fact +formally. Where are the witnesses?" + +The porter, having relinquished the care of the wounded man to the +doctor, stood up slowly and saluted the commissary. + +"Very well; tell us what you know. Sit down"--this to the clerk. +"Produce your writing-materials and prepare the report." + +"It must have been about four this morning, but I was very drowsy, and +the gentlemen had nearly all gone," said the night porter, speaking +fluently, "when I was disturbed by the noise of a quarrel, a fight, up +here in the principal drawing-room. While I was still rubbing my eyes, +for I was very drowsy, and fancied I was dreaming, I heard a scream, a +second, and a third, followed by a heavy fall on the floor. I rushed +upstairs then, and found this poor gentleman as you see him." + +"Alone?" + +"Quite alone." + +"But there must have been other people here. Did they come down the +stairs past you?" + +"No, sir; they must have escaped by that window. It was open--" + +The commissary looked at the police-officer, who nodded intelligently. + +"I had already noticed it, Mr. Commissary. The window gives upon a low +roof, which communicates with the back street. Escape would be quite +easy from that side." + +"Well," said the commissary, "and you found this gentleman? Do you +know him? His name? Have you ever seen him before?" + +"He is M. le Baron d'Enot; he is a constant visitor at the house. Very +fortunate, I believe, and I heard he won largely last night." + +"Ah!" said the commissary. This fact was important, as affording a +reason for the crime. "And do you suspect any one? Have you any idea +who was here at the last?" + +"I scarcely noticed the gentlemen as they went away; it would be +impossible for me, therefore, to say who remained." + +"Then there is no clue--" + +"Hush! Mr. Commissary." It was the doctor's exclamation. "The victim +is still alive, and is trying, I think, to speak." Evidence given at +the point of death has extreme value in every country, under every +kind of law. The commissary therefore bent his head, closely attentive +to catch any words the dying man might utter. + +"Water! water!" he gasped out. "Revenge me; it was a foul and cowardly +blow." + +"Who struck you, can you tell us? Do you know him?" inquired the +commissary, eagerly. + +"Yes. I--know--" The voice grew visibly weaker; it sank into a +whisper, and could speak only in monosyllables. + +"His name--quick!" + +"There--were--three--I had no chance--Gas--coigne--" + +"Strange name--not French?" + +The dying man shook his head. + +"Gasc--tell--Engl--" + +It was the last supreme effort. With a long, deep groan, the poor +fellow fell back dead. + +"How unfortunate!" cried the commissary, "to die just when he would +have told us all. These few words will scarcely suffice to identify +the murderers. Can any one help us?" + +M. Bontoux looked round. + +"The name he mentioned I know," said the night-porter, quickly. "This +M. Gascoigne came here frequently. He is an Englishman." + +"So I gathered from the dead man's words. Do you know his domicile in +Paris?" + +"Rue St. Honore, Hotel Versailles and St. Cloud. I have seen him enter +it more than once, with his wife. He has lived there some months." + +"We must, if possible, lay hands on him at once. You, Jules, hasten +with another police-agent to the Rue St. Honore; he may have gone +straight to his hotel." + +"And if we find him?" + +"Arrest him and take him straight to the Prefecture. I will follow. +There, there! lose no time." + +"I am already gone," said the police-officer as he ran downstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ARREST AND INTERROGATION. + + +The Hotel Versailles and St. Cloud was one of the best hotels of Paris +at this time, a time long antecedent to the opening of such vast +caravansaries as the Louvre, the Continental, the Athenee, or the +Grand. It occupied four sides of a courtyard, to which access was had +by the usual gateway. The porter's lodge was in the latter, and this +functionary, in sabots and shirt-sleeves, was sweeping out the +entrance when the police arrived in a cab, which they ordered to wait +at the door. + +"M. Gascoigne?" asked the agent. + +"On the first floor, number forty-three," replied the porter, without +looking up. "Monsieur has but just returned," he went on. "Knock +gently, or you may disturb him in his first sleep." + +"We shall disturb him in any case," said the police-officer, gruffly. +"Justice cannot wait." + +"The police!" cried the porter, now recognising his visitors for the +first time. "What has happened, in Heaven's name?" + +"Stand aside; we have no time to gossip," replied the agent, as he +passed on. + +The occupant of No. 43 upon the first floor was pacing his room with +agitated steps--a young man with fair complexion and light curly hair; +but his blue eyes were clouded, and his fresh, youthful face was drawn +and haggard. His attire, too--English, like his aspect--was torn and +dishevelled, his voluminous neckcloth was disarranged, his waistcoat +had lost several buttons, and there were stains--dark purple +stains--upon sleeves and smallclothes. + +"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she +has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the +door of the Vaudeville--the bed has not been slept in. Can she have +gone? Is it possible that she has left me?" + +He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands. + +"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just +when I--Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at +the door. + +"Open, in the name of the law!" + +"The police here already! What shall I do?" + +"Open at once, or we shall force the door." + +The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two +police-agents. + +"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal--we +arrest you." + +"On what charge?" + +"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough. +Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?" + +"Of what am I accused?" + +"You will hear in good time. Isidore, where is your rope?" + +His colleague produced the long thin cord that serves instead of +handcuffs in France. + +"Must we tie you?" + +"No, no! I am ready to submit, but under protest. You shall answer for +this outrage. I am an Englishman. I will appeal to our ambassador." + +"With all my heart! We are not afraid. But enough said. Come." + +The three--police-agents and their prisoner--went out together. On the +threshold of No. 43 the officer named Jules said-- + +"Your key, monsieur--the key of your room. I will take charge of it. +Monsieur the Judge will no doubt make a searching perquisition, and no +one must enter it till then." + +The door was locked, M. Jules put the key in his pocket, and the party +went down to the cab, which was driven off rapidly to the depot of the +Prefecture. + +Here the usual formalities were gone through. Rupert Gascoigne, as the +Englishman was called, was interrogated, searched, deprived of money, +watch, penknife, and pencil-case; his description was noted down, and +then he was asked whether he would go into the common prison, or pay +for the accommodation of the _pistole_ or private "side." + +For sixteen sous daily they gave him a room to himself, with a little +iron cot, a chair, and a table. Another franc or two got him his +breakfast and dinner, and he was allowed to enjoy them with such +appetite as he could command. + +No one came near him till next morning, when he was roused from the +heavy sleep that had only come to him after dawn by a summons to +appear before the _Juge d'instruction_. + +He was led by two policemen to a little room, barely furnished, with +one great bureau, or desk, in the centre, at which sat the judge, his +back to the window. On one side of him was a smaller desk for the +clerk, and exactly opposite a chair for the accused, so arranged that +the light beat full upon his face. + +"Sit down," said the judge, abruptly. + +He was a stern-looking man, dressed all in black, still young, with a +cold and impassive face, the extreme pallor of which was heightened by +his close-cut, coal-black hair, and his small, piercing, beady black +eyes. + +"Your name and nationality?" + +"Rupert Gascoigne. I am an Englishman, and as such I must at once +protest against the treatment I have received." + +"You have been treated in accordance with the law--of France. You must +abide by it, since you choose to live here. I do not owe you this +explanation, but I give it to uphold the majesty of the law." + +"I shall appeal to our ambassador." + +The judge waved his hand, as though the threat did not affect him. + +"I must ask you to keep silence. You are here to be interrogated; you +will only speak in reply to my questions." + +There was a pause, during which judge and accused looked hard at each +other; the former seeking to read the other's inmost thoughts, the +latter meeting the gaze with resolute and unflinching eyes. + +"What is your age?" + +"Twenty-six." + +"Are you married?" + +"Yes." + +"But your wife has left you." + +Gascoigne started in spite of himself. + +"How do you know that?" he asked, nervously. + +"It is for me to question. But I know it: that is enough. Your +occupation and position in life?" + +"I am a gentleman, living on my means." + +"It is false." An angry flush rose to Gascoigne's face as the judge +thus gave him the lie. "It is false--you are a professional gambler--a +Greek--a sharper, with no ostensible means!" + +"Pardon me, monsieur; you are quite misinformed. I could prove to you--" + +"It would be useless; the police have long known and watched you." + +"Such espionage is below contempt," cried Gascoigne, indignantly. + +"Silence! Do not dare to question the conduct of the authorities. It +is the visit of persons of your stamp to Paris that renders such +precautions necessary." + +"If you believe all you hear from your low agents, with their lying, +scandalous reports--" + +"Be careful, prisoner; your demeanour will get you into trouble. Our +information about you is accurate and trustworthy. Judge for +yourself." + +Gascoigne looked incredulous. + +"Listen; you arrived in Paris three months ago, accompanied by a young +demoiselle whom you had decoyed from her home." + +"She was my wife." + +"Yes; you married her after your arrival here. The official records of +the 21st arrondisement prove that--married her without her parents' +consent." + +"That is not so. They approved." + +"How could they? Your wife's father is French vice-consul at +Gibraltar. Her mother is dead. Neither was present at your marriage; +how, then, could they approve?" + +Gascoigne did not answer. + +"On your first arrival you were well provided with funds--the +proceeds, no doubt, of some nefarious scheme; a run of luck at the +tables; the plunder of some pigeon--" + +"The price of my commission in the English Army." + +"Bah! You never were in the English Army." + +"I can prove it." + +"I shall not believe you. Being in funds, I say, you lived riotously, +stayed at one of the best hotels, kept a landau and pair, dined at the +Trois Freres and the Rocher de Cancale, frequented the theatres; +madame wore the most expensive toilettes. But you presently ran short +of cash." + +"It's not surprising. But I presume I was at liberty to do what I +liked with my own." + +"Coming to the end of your resources," went on the judge, coldly +ignoring the sneer, "you tried the gaming-table again, with varying +success. You went constantly to the Hotel Paradis--" + +"On the contrary, occasionally, not often." + +"You were there last night; it is useless to deny it. We have the +deposition of the proprietor, who is well known to the police--M. +Hippolyte Ledantec; you shall be confronted with him." + +"Is he in custody?" asked Gascoigne, eagerly. + +"I tell you it is not your place to question." + +"He ought to be. It was he who committed the murder." + +"You know there was a murder, then? Curious. When the body was +discovered by the porter there was no one present. How could you know +of the crime unless you had a hand in it?" + +"I saw it committed. I tried my best to save the Baron, but Ledantec +stabbed him before I could interpose." + +"An ingenious attempt to shift the guilt; but it will not serve. We +know better." + +"I am prepared to swear it was Ledantec. Why should I attack the +Baron? I owed him no grudge." + +"Why? I will tell you. For some time past, as I have reminded you, +your funds have been running low, fortune has been against you at the +tables, and you could not correct it at the Hotel Paradis as you do +with less clever players--" + +"You are taking an unfair advantage of your position, Monsieur le +Juge. Any one else who dared accuse me of cheating--" + +"Bah! no heroics. You could not correct fortune, I say; yet money you +must have. The hotel-keeper was pressing for his long-unpaid account. +Madame, your smart wife, was dissatisfied; she made you scenes because +you refused her money; in return, you ill-used her." + +"It is false! My wife has always received proper consideration at my +hands." + +"You ill-used her, ill-treated her; we have it from herself." + +"Do you know, then, where she is?" interrupted Gascoigne, with so +much eagerness that it was plain he had taken his wife's defection +greatly to heart. "Why has she left me? With whom? I have always +suspected that villain Ledantec; he is an arch scoundrel, a very +devil!" + +"The reasons for your wife's disappearance are sufficiently explained +by this letter." + +"To me?" said Gascoigne, stretching out his hand for it. + +"To you, but impounded by us. It was found, in our search of your +apartments yesterday, placed in a prominent place upon your +dressing-table." + +"Give it me--it is mine!" + +"No! but you shall hear what it says. Listen:-- + +"'I could have borne with resignation the miserable part you have +imposed upon me. After luring me from my home with dazzling offers, +after promising me a life of luxury and splendid ease, you rudely, +cruelly dispelled the illusion, and made it plain to me that I had +shared the lot of a pauper. All this I could have borne--poverty, +however distasteful, but not the infamy, the degradation, of being the +partner and associate of your evil deeds. Sooner than fall so low I +prefer to leave you for ever. Do not seek for me. I have done with +you. All is at an end between us!'" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE MOUSETRAP. + + +"Well," said the judge, when he had finished reading, "you see what +your wife thinks of you. What do you say now?" + +"There is not a word of truth in that letter. It is a tissue of +misstatements from beginning to end. You must place no reliance upon +it." + +"There you must allow me to differ from you. This letter is, in my +belief, perfectly genuine. It supplies a most important link in the +chain of evidence, and I shall give it the weight it deserves. But +enough--will you still deny your guilt?" + +"It is Ledantec's doing," said Gascoigne, following out a line of +thought of his own. "She was nothing loth, perhaps, for he has been +instilling insidious poison into her ears for these weeks past. I had +my suspicions, but could prove nothing; now I know. It was for this, +to put money in his purse for her extravagance, that he first robbed, +then struck down the baron." + +"Why do you still persist in this shallow line of defence? You cannot +deceive me; it would be far better to make a clean breast of it at +once." + +"I have already told you all I know. I repeat, I saw Ledantec strike +the blow." + +"Psha! this is puerile. I will be frank with you. We have the fullest +and strongest evidence of your guilt--why, then, will you not confess +it?" + +"I have nothing to confess; I am perfectly innocent. I was the poor +man's friend, not his murderer. I tried hard to save him, but, +unhappily, I was too late." + +"You will not confess?" + +A flush of anger rose to Gascoigne's cheek; his eyes flashed with the +indignation he felt at being thus bullied and browbeaten; his lips +quivered, but still he made no reply. + +"Come! you have played this comedy long enough," said the judge, his +manner growing more insolent, his look more threatening. "Will you, or +will you not, confess?" + +Gascoigne met his gaze resolutely, but with a dogged, obstinate +silence, the result of a firm determination not to utter a word. + +"This is unbearable," said the judge, angrily, after having repeated +his question several times without eliciting any reply. "Take him +away! Let him be kept in complete isolation, in one of the separate +cells of the Mousetrap--the Souriciere." + +At a signal from within the police entered, resumed charge of the +prisoner, and escorted him, by many winding passages, down a steep +staircase to an underground passage, ending in a dungeon-like room, +badly lighted by one small, heavily-barred window, through which no +glimpse of the sky was seen. + +Here he was left alone, and for a long time utterly neglected. No one +came near him till late in the day, when he was brought a basin of +thin soup and a hunch of coarse ammunition bread. He spoke to his +jailers, asking for more and better food, but obtained no reply. He +asked them for paper, pens, and ink; he wished, he said, to make a +full statement of his case to the British Embassy, and demand its +protection. Still no reply. Maddened by this contemptuous treatment, +and despairing almost of justice, he begged, entreated the warder to +take pity on him, to tell him at least how long they meant to keep him +there in such terrible solitude, cut off altogether from the advice +and assistance of friends. The warder shook his head stolidly, and at +length broke silence, but only to say, "It is by superior order," then +left him. + +Gascoigne passed a terrible night, the second night in durance, but +far worse than the first. He was torn now with apprehensions as to his +fate; circumstances seemed so much against him; the facts, as stated +by the judge, might be grossly misrepresented; but how was he to +dispute them? There was no justice in this miserable country, with +such a partial and one-sided system of law. He began to fear that his +life was in their hands; already he felt his head on the block, under +the shadow of the awful guillotine. + +Nor were his personal terrors the only nightmare that visited and oppressed +him. He was harassed, tortured, by the shameless conduct of his wife; of +the woman for whom he had sacrificed everything--profession, fortune, name, +the affection of relatives, the respect of friends. With base, +black-hearted perfidy, she had deserted him for another, had plotted +against him, had helped to bring him into his present terrible straits. + +Once again they awoke him, unrefreshed, from the deep sleep haunted by +such hideous dreams. He was told to dress himself and come out. At the +door of his cell the same escort--two police-agents--awaited him. + +"Where are you taking me? Again before that hateful judge?" + +"Monsieur had better speak more respectfully," replied one of them, in +a warning voice. + +"It is no use, I tell you, his interrogating me. I have nothing more +to say." + +"Silence!" cried the other, "and march." + +They led him along the passage and upstairs, but not, as before, to +the judge's cabinet. Turning aside, they passed on one side of it, and +out into the open air. There was a cab drawn up close to the door, the +prisoner was ordered to get in, one police-agent taking his seat +alongside, the other mounting on the box. The glasses were drawn up, +and the cab drove rapidly away. + +"Where are you taking me?" asked Gascoigne. + +"You will see," replied his conductor, coldly. + +"To another prison?" + +"Silence! A prisoner is not permitted to enter into conversation with +his guard." + +Thus rebuffed, Gascoigne resigned himself to gazing mournfully through +the windows as the cab rattled along. He did not know this quarter of +Paris well, but he could see that they were passing along one of the +quays of the Ile de la Cite. He could see the houses on the opposite +bank, and knew from the narrowness of the river that it was not the +main stream of the Seine. It was still early morning; the streets were +not as yet very crowded, but as the cab entered a wide square it came +upon a throng issuing from the portals of a large church, the +congregation that had been attending some celebration at Notre Dame. +He recognised the church as he passed it, still driving, however, by +the quays. Then they came to a low building, with a dirty, ill-kept, +unpretentious doorway. The cab passed through into an inner court, +stopped, and Gascoigne was ordered to alight. + +The police-agents, one on each side of him, took him to a rather large +but dirty, squalid-looking room, which might have been part of an +old-clothes shop. All round, hanging from pegs, each neatly ticketed +with its own number, were sets of garments, male and female, of every +description: rags and velvets, a common blouse and good broadcloth, +side by side. + +At a small common table in the centre of the room sat Gascoigne's +judge, with the same cold face, only darkened now by a frown. + +"Once more," he said, abruptly--"will you confess your crime?" + +Gascoigne looked at him contemptuously, but held his tongue. + +"Do you still refuse? Do you still obstinately persist in remaining +dumb? Very well, we shall see." + +The judge got up from his chair, and disappeared through a side-door. + +After a short pause, Gascoigne's escort bade him march, and the three +followed through the same door. + +They entered a second chamber, smaller than the first, the uses of +which were at once obvious to Gascoigne, although he had never been +there before. It was like a low shed or workroom, lighted from above, +perfectly plain--even bald--in its decoration, but in the centre, +occupying the greater part of the space, and leaving room only for a +passage around, was a large flat slab of marble, something like that +seen in fishmongers' shops. The similarity was maintained by the sound +of water constantly flowing and falling upon the marble slab, as +though to keep it and its burden always fresh and cool. + +But that burden! Three corpses, stark naked but for a decent +waistband, were laid out upon the marble table. One was that of a +child who had been fished up from the Seine that morning; the second +that of a stonemason who had fallen from a scaffolding and broken his +neck and both legs; the third was the murdered man of the Hotel +Paradis, the Baron d'Enot, stripped of his well-made clothes, lying +stark and stiff on his back, with the great knife-wound gaping red and +festering in his breast. + +"There!" cried the judge, triumphantly, leaning forward to scrutinise +narrowly the effect of this hideous confrontation upon the prisoner. + +To his bitter disappointment, this carefully prepared theatrical +effect, so frequently practised and so often successful with French +criminals, altogether failed with Gascoigne. The Englishman certainly +had started at the first sight of the corpse, but it was a natural +movement of horror which might have escaped any unconcerned spectator +at being brought into the presence of death in such a hideous form. +After betraying this first and not unnatural sign of emotion, +Gascoigne remained perfectly cool, self-possessed, and unperturbed. + +"You see your victim there; now will you confess?" cried the judge, +almost passionately. + +"Ledantec's victim, not mine," replied Gascoigne, quietly. Then, as if +in apology to himself, he added, "I could not help speaking, but I +shall say nothing more." + +"He is very strong, extraordinarily strong!" cried the judge, his rage +giving place to admiration at the obstinate fortitude of his +prisoner. "In all my experience"--this was to the police and the chief +custodian of the Morgue--"I have never come across a more +cold-blooded, cynical wretch; but he shall not beat me; he shall not +outrage and set the law at defiance; we will bend his spirit yet. Take +him back to the Mousetrap; he shall stay there until he chooses to +speak." + +With this unfair threat, which was tantamount to a sentence of +unlimited imprisonment, the judge dismissed his prisoner. + +Gascoigne was marched back to the cab; the police-agents ordered him +to re-enter it; one of them took his seat by his side as before, the +other remounted the box. Then the cab started on its journey back to +the Prefecture. + +Gascoigne, silent, pre-occupied, and outwardly calm, was yet inwardly +consumed with a fierce though impotent rage. He was indignant at the +shameful treatment he had received. To be arraigned as a criminal +prematurely, his guilt taken for granted on the testimony of unseen +witnesses whose evidence he had no chance of rebutting--all this, so +intolerable to the spirit of British justice, revolted him and +outraged his sense of fair play. + +Yet what could he do? He was without redress. They had denied him his +right of appeal to his ambassador; he was forbidden to communicate +with his friends. There seemed no hope for him, no chance of justice, +no loophole of escape. + +Stay! Escape? + +As the thought flashed quickly across his brain it lingered, taking +practical shape. Surely it was worth his while to make an effort, to +strike one bold blow for liberty now, before it was too late! + +He quickly cast up the chances for and against. The cab was following +the line of quays as before, but along the northern bank of the +island, that bordering the main stream. It was going at little better +than a foot's pace; the door next which he sat was on the side of the +river. What if he knocked his guardian senseless, striking him a +couple of British blows--one, two, straight from the shoulder--then, +flinging open the door, spring out, and over the parapet into the +swift-flowing Seine? He was an excellent swimmer; once in the water, +surely he might trust to his luck! + +These were the arguments in his favour. Against him were the chances +that his companion might show fight; that he might check his +prisoner's exit until his comrade on the box could come to the rescue; +or that some officious bystander might act on the side of the law; or +that a shot might drop him as he fled; or, finally, and most probably +of all, that he might be drowned in the turbulent stream. + +Gascoigne was not long in coming to a decision. "Nothing venture, +nothing have," was his watchword. At this moment the cab was near the +end of the Quai aux Fleurs, near the Pont d'Arcole. There was no time +to be lost; at any moment it might turn down from the river, taking +one of the cross streets. Setting his teeth firmly, and nerving +himself for a supreme effort, Gascoigne sprang suddenly upon the +police-agent, twisted his hands inside the stiff stock, and, having +thus nearly throttled him, felled him with two tremendous blows. + +With a groan, the man fell to the bottom of the cab; the next instant +Gascoigne had opened the door and dropped into the roadway. + +The escape was observed by one or two passers-by; but they were +evidently people who owed the police no good-will, for, although they +stood still to watch the fugitive, they did not give the alarm. This +came first from the policeman who had been assaulted, who, recovering +quickly from the attack, roared lustily to his fellow for help. The +cab stopped, the officials alighted hurriedly, and looking to right +and left caught sight of Gascoigne as he stood upon the parapet and +made his plunge into the river. Both rushed to the spot, pistol in +hand. + +Down below was the figure of their escaped prisoner battling with the +rapid stream. Both fired, almost simultaneously, and one at least must +have hit the mark. + +Gascoigne's body turned over and then sank, leaving a small crimson +stain upon the water. + +Was he killed? Drowned? That is what no one could tell; but it was +certain that no corpse answering the Englishman's description was ever +recovered from the river; nor, on the other hand, did the police, in +spite of an active pursuit, lay hands on their prisoner again alive. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A SPIDER'S WEB. + + +Some half a dozen years after the occurrences just recorded there was +a great gathering one night at Essendine House, a palatial mansion +occupying the whole angle of a great London square. The +reception-rooms upon the first floor, five of them, and all _en +suite_, and gorgeously decorated in white and gold, were brilliantly +lighted and thrown open to the best of London society. Lady Essendine +was at home to her friends, and seemingly she had plenty of them, for +the place was thronged. + +The party was by way of being musical--that is to say, a famous +pianist had been engaged to let off a lot of rockets from his +finger-tips, and a buffo singer from the opera roared out his "Figaro +la, Figaro qua," with all the strength of his brazen lungs; while one +or two gifted amateurs sang glees in washed-out, apologetical +accents, which were nearly lost in the din of the room. + +But there was yet another singer, whose performance was attended with +rather more display. It was preluded by a good deal of whispering and +nodding of heads. Lady Essendine posed as a charitable person, always +anxious to do good, and this singer was a _protegee_ of hers--an +interesting but unfortunate foreigner in very reduced circumstances, +whom she had discovered by accident, and to whom she was most anxious +to give a helping hand. + +"A sweet creature," she had said quite audibly that evening, although +the object of her remarks was at her elbow. "A most engaging person; +poor thing, when I found her she was almost destitute. Wasn't it sad?" + +"Quite pretty, too," her friends had remarked, also ignoring the near +neighbourhood of the singer. + +It did not seem to matter much. The stranger sat there calmly, proudly +unconscious of all that was said about her. Pretty!--the epithet was +well within the mark. Beautiful, rather--magnificently, splendidly +beautiful, with a noble presence and almost queenly air. Her small, +exquisitely-proportioned head, crowned with a coronet of deep chestnut +hair, was well poised upon a long, slender neck; she had a refined, +aristocratic face, with clear-cut features, a well-shaped, aquiline +nose, with slender nostrils; a perfect mouth, great lustrous dark +eyes, with brows and lashes rather darker than her hair. Her teeth +were perfect--perhaps she knew it, for her lower lip hung down a +little, constantly displaying their pearly whiteness, and adding +somewhat to the decided outline of the firm well-rounded chin. + +Seated, her beauty claimed attention; but her appearance was still +more attractive when she stood up and moved across the room, to take +her seat at the piano. Her figure was tall and commanding, full, yet +faultless in outline, as that of one in the prime of ripe, rich +womanhood, and its perfect proportions were fully set off by her +close-fitting but perfectly plain black dress. + +A little hum of approval greeted her from this well-bred audience as +she sat down and swept her fingers with a flourish over the keys. +Then, without further prelude, she sang a little French song in a +pleasing, musical voice, without much compass, but well trained; +before the applause ended she broke into a Spanish ballad, tender and +passionate, which gained her still greater success; and thus accepted +and approved amidst continual cries of "Brava!" and "Encore!" she was +not allowed to leave her seat until she had sung at least a dozen +times. + +When she arose from the piano Lady Essendine went up to her, +patronising and gracious. + +"Oh! thank you so much. I don't know when I have heard anything so +charming." + +Other ladies followed suit, and, amidst the general cries of approval, +the beautiful singer was engaged a dozen deep to sing at other great +houses in the town. + +Presently they pressed her to perform again. Was she not paid for it? +No one, Lady Essendine least of all, thought for one moment of her +_protegee's_ fatigue, and the poor singer might have worked on till +she fainted from exhaustion had not the son of the house interposed. + +"You must be tired, mademoiselle," said Lord Lydstone, coming up to +the piano. "Surely you would like a little refreshment? Let me take +you to the tea-room," and, offering his arm, he led her away, despite +his mother's black looks and frowns of displeasure. + +"Lydstone is so impulsive," she whispered to the first confidant she +could find. It was Colonel Wilders, one of the family--a poor +relation, in fact, commonly called by them "Cousin Bill"--a hale, +hearty, middle-aged man, with grey hair he was not ashamed of, but +erect and vigorous, with a soldierly air. "I wish he would not +advertise himself with such a person in this way." + +"A monstrously handsome person!" cried the blunt soldier, evidently +cordially endorsing Lord Lydstone's taste. + +"That's not the question, Colonel Wilders; it was not my son's place +to take her to the tea-room, and I am much annoyed. Will you, to +oblige me, go and tell Lydstone I want to speak to him?" + +Cousin Bill, docile and obsequious, hurried off to execute her +ladyship's commission. He found the pair chatting pleasantly together +in a corner of the deserted tea-room, and delivered his message. + +"Oh, bother!" cried Lord Lydstone undutifully. "What can mother want +with me?" + +"You had better go to her," said the colonel, who was a little afraid +of his cousin, the female head of the house. "I will take your place +here--that is to say, if mademoiselle will permit me." + +"Madame," corrected Lord Lydstone, who had been already put right +himself. "Let me introduce you. Madame Cyprienne--my cousin, Colonel +Wilders, of the Royal Rangers. I hope we shall hear you sing again +to-night, unless you are too tired." + +"I shall do whatever _miladi_ wishes," said Madame Cyprienne, in a +deep but musical voice, with a slight foreign accent. "It is for her +to command, me to obey. She has been very kind, you know," she went on +to Colonel Wilders, who had taken Lydstone's seat by her side. "But +for her I should have starved." + +"Dear me! how sad," said the colonel. "Was it so bad as that? How did +it happen. Was M. Cyprienne unlucky?" + +She did not answer; and the colonel, wondering, looked up, to find her +fine eyes filled with tears. + +"How stupid of me! What an idiot I am! Of course, your husband is--" + +She pointed to her black dress, edged with crape, but said nothing. + +"Yes, yes! I quite understand. Pray forgive me," stammered the +colonel, and there followed an awkward pause. + +"Mine is a sad story," she said at length, in a sorrowful tone. "I was +left suddenly alone, unprotected, without resources, in this strange +country--to fight my own battle, to earn a crust of bread by my own +exertions, or starve." + +"Dear, dear!" said the colonel, his sympathies fully aroused. + +"I should have starved, but for Lady Essendine. She heard of me. I was +trying to dispose of some lace--some very old Spanish point. You are a +judge of lace, monsieur?" + +"Of course, of course!" said the colonel, although, as a matter of +fact, he did not know Spanish point from common _ecru_. + +"This was some lace that had been in our family for generations. You +must understand we were not always as you see me--poor; we belong to +the old nobility. My husband was highly born, but when he died I +dropped the title and became Madame Cyprienne. It was better, don't +you think?" + +"Perhaps so; I am not sure," replied the colonel, hardly knowing what +to say. + +"It was. The idea of a countess a pauper, begging her bread!" + +"What was your title, may I ask?" inquired the colonel, eagerly. These +tender confidences, accompanied by an occasional encouraging glance +from her bright eyes, were rapidly increasing the interest he took in +her. + +"I am the Countess de Saint Clair," replied Madame Cyprienne, proudly; +"but I do not assume the title now. I do not choose it to be known +that I live by singing, and by selling the remnants of our family +lace." + +"I hope Lady Essendine paid you a decent price," said the colonel, +pleasantly. + +Madame Cyprienne shook her head, with a little laugh-- + +"She has been very kind--exceedingly kind--but she knows how to drive +a bargain: all women do." + +"What a shame! And have you sold it all? You had better entrust me +with the disposal of the rest." + +"Oh! Colonel Wilders, I could not think of giving you so much +trouble." + +"But I will; I should like to. Send it to me. My chambers are in Ryder +Street; or, better still, I will call for it if you will tell me +where," said the colonel, artfully. + +"I am lodging in a very poor place, not at all such as the Countess de +Saint Clair should receive in. But I am not ashamed of it; it is in +Frith Street, Soho, NO. 29A; but I do not think you ought to +come there." + +"A most delightful part of the town," said the colonel, who at the +moment would have approved of Whitechapel or the New Cut. "When shall +I call?" + +"In the afternoon. In the morning I am engaged in giving lessons. But +come, we have lingered here long enough. _Miladi_ will expect me to +sing again." + +Lady Essendine frowned at Cousin Bill when he brought back her singer; +but whether it was at the length of the talk, or the withdrawal of her +_protegee_ from the duties for which she was paid, her ladyship did +not condescend to explain. It was a little of both. She was pleased to +have hindered her son from paying marked attention to a person in +Madame Cyprienne's doubtful position. Now she found that person +exercising her fascinations upon Colonel Wilders, and it annoyed her, +although Cousin Bill was surely old enough to take care of himself. +Already she was changing her opinion concerning the fair singer she +had introduced into the London world. She could not fail to notice the +admiration Madame Cyprienne generally received, especially from the +men, and she doubted whether she had done wisely in taking her by the +hand. + +A few days later she had no doubt at all. To her disgust, all the old +Spanish point-lace was gone; and Madame Cyprienne had told her plainly +that it was her own fault for haggling over the price. Her ladyship's +disgust was heightened when she found the best piece of all--a +magnificent white mantilla--in the possession of a rival leader of +fashion, who refused to say where she had got it, or how. + +She set her emissaries at work, however--for every great London lady +has a dozen devoted, unpaid _attaches_, ready to do any little +commission of this kind--and the lace was traced back to Colonel +Wilders. + +"My dear," she said, one morning, to her lord, "I am afraid Colonel +Wilders is very intimate with that Madame Cyprienne." + +"Our eccentric Cousin Bill! You don't say so? Well, there's no fool +like an old fool," said Lord Essendine, who was a very matter-of-fact, +plain-spoken peer. + +"I always thought she was an adventuress," cried Lady Essendine, +angrily. + +"Then why did you take her up so hotly? But for you, no one would ever +have heard of the woman, least of all Cousin Bill." + +"Well, I have done with her now. I shall drop her." + +"The mischief's done. Unless I am much mistaken, she won't drop Cousin +Bill." + +Lord Essendine, who was, perhaps, behind the scenes, was not wrong in +his estimate of the influence Madame Cyprienne exercised. Before six +months were out, Colonel Wilders came, with rather a sheepish air, to +the head of the house, and informed him of his approaching marriage to +the Countess de Saint Clair. + +"That's a new title to me, Bill. Foreign, I suppose?" Lord Essendine +had the usual contempt of the respectable Briton for titles not +mentioned in Debrett or Burke. + +"It's French, I fancy; and for the moment it is in abeyance. Madame +Cyprienne tells me--" + +"Gracious powers, William Wilders! have you fallen into that woman's +clutches?" + +"I must ask you, Lord Essendine, to speak more respectfully of the +lady I propose to make my wife." + +"You had better not! I warn you while there is yet time." + +"What do you know against her?" asked the colonel, hotly. + +"What do you know of or for her?" replied the peer, quickly. "I tell +you, man, it's a disgrace to the family. Lady Essendine will be +furious. If I had any authority over you I would forbid the marriage. +In any case," he went on, "do not look for any countenance or support +from me." + +"I hope we shall be able to get on without your assistance, Lord +Essendine. I thought it my duty to inform you of my marriage, and I +think I might have been better received." + +"Stay, you idiot; don't go off in a huff. I don't like the match, I +tell you frankly; but I don't want to quarrel. Is there anything I can +do for you, except attending the wedding? I won't do that." + +Colonel Wilders could not bring himself to ask any favours of his +unsympathetic kinsman. Nevertheless, it was through Lord Essendine's +interest that he obtained a snug staff appointment in one of the large +garrison towns; and he did not return indignantly the very handsome +cheque paid in by his cousin to his account as a wedding present. + +He was still serving at Chatsmouth, his young and beautiful wife the +life of the gay garrison, when the war-clouds gathered dark upon the +horizon, and, thanks again to the Essendine interest, he found himself +transferred, still on the staff, to the expeditionary army under +orders for the East. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE WAR FEVER. + + +They were stirring times, those early days of '54. After half a +century of peace the shadow of a great contest loomed dark and near. +The whole British nation, sick and tired of Russian double-dealing, +was eager to cut the knot of political difficulty with the sword. +Everyone was mad to fight; only a few optimists, statesmen mostly, +still relying on the sedative processes of diplomacy, had any hopes of +averting war. A race reputed peace-loving, but most pugnacious when +roused, was stirred now to its very depths. British hearts beat high +throughout the length and breadth of the land, proudly mindful of +their former prowess and manfully hopeful of emulating former glorious +deeds. + +It was the same wherever Englishmen gathered under the old flag; in +every corner of the world peopled by offshoots from the old stock, +most of all in those strongholds and dependencies beyond sea captured +in the old wars, and still held by our arms. + +It was so upon the great Rock, the commonly counted impregnable +fortress, one of the ancient pillars of Hercules that still stands +silently strong and watchful at the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea. + +Nowhere did the war fever rage higher than at Gibraltar. Before +everything, a garrison town, battlemented and fortified on every side, +resonant from morning gunfire till watch-setting with martial sounds, +its principal pageants military, with soldiers filling its streets, +and sentinels at every corner, the prospect of active service was +naturally the one theme and topic of the place. + +As spring advanced, one of those balmy-scented Southern springs when +flowers highly prized with us blossomed wild everywhere, even in the +fissures of the rock--when the days are already long and bright, under +ever-blue and cloudless skies, Gibraltar realised more fully that war +was close at hand. Lying in the high road to the East, it saw daily +the armed strength of England sweep proudly by. Now a squadron of +men-of-war: not the hideous, shapeless ironclad of to-day, but the +traditional three-decker, with its tiers of snarling teeth and its +beauty of white-bellying canvas and majestic spar. Now a troopship +with its consorts, two, or three, or more, tightly packed with their +living cargo--whole regiments of red-coated soldiers on their way to +Malta and beyond. + +Such sights as these kept the garrison--friends and comrades of those +bound eastward--in a state of constant high-pitched excitement. At +first, forbidden by strict quarantine, there was no communication +between the sea and the shore, but all day long there were crowds of +idlers ready to line the sea-wall and greet every ship that came in +close enough with hearty repeated cheers. When the vexatious +health-rules were relaxed, and troopships landed some of their +passengers, there was endless fraternisation, eager discussion of +coming operations, and unlimited denunciation of the common foe. + +Members of the garrison itself were, of course, frantically jealous of +all who had the better luck to belong to the expeditionary force. That +they were not under orders for the East was the daily burden of +complaint in every barrack-room and guard-house upon the Rock. The +British soldier is an inveterate grumbler; he quarrels perpetually +with his quarters, his food, his clothing, and his general want of +luck. Just now the bad luck of being refused a share in an arduous +campaign, with its attendant chances of hardships, sufferings, perhaps +a violent death, made every soldier condemned to remain in safety at +Gibraltar discontented and sore at heart. + +"No orders for us by the last mail, Hyde," said a young sergeant of +the Royal Picts, as he walked briskly up to the entrance of the +Waterport Guard. + +A tall, well-grown, clean-limbed young fellow of twenty-four or five: +one who prided himself on being a smart soldier, and fully deserved +the name. He was admirably turned out; his coatee with wings, showing +that he belonged to one of the flank companies, fitted him to +perfection; the pale blue trousers, the hideous fashion of the day, +for which Prince Albert was said to be responsible, were carefully +cut; his white belts were beautifully pipe-clayed, and the use of +pipe-clay was at that time an art; you could see your face in the +polish of his boots. A smart soldier, and as fine-looking a young +fellow as wore the Queen's uniform in 1854. He had an open, honest +face, handsome withal; clear bright grey eyes, broad forehead, and a +firm mouth and chin. + +"Worrying yourself, as usual, for permission to have your throat cut. +Can't you bide your time, Sergeant McKay?" + +The answer came from another sergeant of the same regiment, an elder, +sterner man--a veteran evidently, for he wore two medals for Indian +campaigns, and his bronzed, weather-beaten face showed that he had +seen service in many climes. As a soldier he was in no wise inferior +to his comrade: his uniform and appointments were as clean and +correct, but he lacked the extra polish--the military dandyism, so to +speak--of the younger man. + +"War is our regular trade. Isn't it natural we should want to be at +it?" said Sergeant McKay. + +"You talk like a youngster who doesn't know what it's like," replied +Sergeant Hyde. "I've seen something of campaigning, and it's rough +work at the best, even in India, where soldiers are as well off as +officers here." + +"Officers!" said McKay, rather bitterly. "They have the best of it +everywhere." + +"Hush! don't be an insubordinate young idiot," interposed his comrade, +hastily. "Here come two of them." + +The sergeants sprang hastily to their feet, and, standing strictly to +attention, saluted their superiors in proper military form. + +"That's what I hate," went on McKay. + +"Then you are no true soldier, and don't know what proper discipline +means. They are as much bound to salute us as we them." + +"Yes, but they don't." + +"That's their want of manners; so much the worse for them. Besides, I +am quite sure Mr. Wilders didn't mean it; he is far too good an +officer--always civil-spoken, too, and considerate to the men." + +"I object to saluting him more than any one else." + +"Why, McKay! what's the matter with you? What particular fault have +you to find with Mr. Wilders?" + +"I am just as good as he is." + +"In your own opinion, perhaps; not in that of this garrison--certainly +not under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War." + +"I am just as good. I am his cousin--" + +Sergeant McKay stopped suddenly, bit his lip, and flushed very red. + +"So you have let the cat out of the bag at last, my young friend," +said Sergeant Hyde, quietly. "I always thought this--that you were a +gentleman--" + +"Superior to my station, in fact." + +"By no means, Sergeant McKay. I should be sorry to admit that any man, +however highly born, had lost his right to be deemed a gentleman +because he is a sergeant in the Royal Picts." + +"You, Hyde, are a gentleman too. I am sure of that." + +"I am a sergeant in the Royal Picts. That is enough for me and for +you." + +"Why did you enlist?" + +Hyde shook his head gravely. + +"There are pages in every man's life," he said, "which he does not +care to lift again when they are once turned down. I have not asked +you for your secret; respect mine." + +"But I have nothing to conceal," said McKay, quickly. "I am ready +enough to tell you why I enlisted." + +"As you please; but, mind, I have not asked you." + +There was little encouragement in this speech; but McKay ignored it, +and went on-- + +"I enlisted because I could not enter the army in any other way. My +friends could not afford to purchase me a commission." + +"Why were you so wild to become a soldier?" + +"It was my father's profession. He was a captain in--" + +"That should have given you a claim for an ensigncy, as an officer's +son." + +"But my father was not in the English service. He was only half an +Englishman, really." + +"Indeed! How so?" + +"Although Scotch by extraction, as our name will tell you, my father +was born in Poland. He was a Russian subject, and as such was +compelled to serve in the Russian army." + +"For long?" + +"Until he was mixed in an unfortunate national movement, and only +escaped execution by flight. He lived afterwards at Geneva. It was +there he met my mother." + +"Is it through him or her that you are related to the Wilders?" + +"Through my mother. She was daughter of the Honourable Anastasius, son +of the twelfth earl." + +"And what might be the distinguishing numeral of the present Essendine +potentate?" + +"He is fourteenth earl." + +"Then he and your mother are first cousins?" + +"Quite so; and I am his first cousin once removed." + +"Ah! that is very nice for you," said old Hyde, with a tinge of +contempt in his tone. "They're not much use to you though, these fine +relations. Surely Lord Essendine could have got you a commission by +holding up his hand?" + +"That's just what he would not do, and why I hate him and the whole of +the Wilders family. Lord Essendine has never recognised us." + +"Why? Is there any reason?" + +"The Honourable Anastasius made a poor match, married against his +father's wish, and was cut off with a shilling. His brother, the next +earl, was disposed to make it up, but my grandfather died, and my +grandmother married again--an honest sea-captain--and the noble peer +cut her dead." + +"And so you joined the Royal Picts. But I wonder you came to this +regiment to serve with your cousin." + +"I enlisted, you know, a couple of years before he was gazetted to the +corps." + +"Do they know you took the shilling?--that you are now a +colour-sergeant in the Royal Picts?" + +"I don't think they are aware of my existence even." + +"Well, never mind. Don't be cast down. The time may come when they +will be proud to recognise you. It all depends upon yourself?" + +"I will do all I know to force them, you may be sure." + +"And you will have your chance, in a great war like this which is +coming. Everything is possible to a man whose heart is in the right +place. You have pluck and spirit." + +The young fellow's eyes flashed. + +"Trust me, Hyde; I sha'n't flinch, if I only get the chance." + +"You are well educated; you can draw; you have picked up Spanish since +you have been here; and I suppose you inherit a taste for languages +from your Polish father?" + +"I don't know; at any rate, I can talk French fluently, and I speak +Russian of course." + +"Why, man! the game is positively in your own hands. You are bound to +get on: mark my words." + +"Not if we stay here, Hyde, keeping guard upon this old Rock and +losing all the fun. Can you wonder why I am so anxious the regiment +should get the route?" + +"It will come, never fear. They will want every soldier that carries a +musket before this war is over, or I'm a much-mistaken man. Only have +patience." + +"How can I? I am eating my heart out, Hyde." + +"Was it to tell me this you came down here? What brings you to +Waterport this morning? Only to gossip with me?" + +"That, and something more. I am on duty, detailed as orderly sergeant +to one of the Expeditionary Generals; he is just going to land from a +yacht in the bay." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"Yes, Wilders--another of my fine cousins. You can understand now why +I am so bitter against my relations to-day: there are too many of them +about." + +"I suppose that is what's brought our Mr. Wilders here to-day--to meet +his cousin." + +"And his brother; for they are on board Lord Lydstone's yacht." + +"They! How many of them?" + +"General Wilders has his wife with him, I believe, accompanying him to +the East." + +"Old idiot! Why couldn't he leave her at home? Women are in the way at +these times. Soldiers have no business with wives." + +"That's why you never married, I suppose?" + +Hyde did not answer his question, but got up and left his comrade +abruptly, to re-enter the guard-room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ON DANGEROUS GROUND. + + +The _Arcadia_, Lord Lydstone's yacht, was a fine three-masted schooner +of a couple of hundred tons. She was lying far out in the bay, amidst +a crowd of shipping of every kind--coal-hulks, black and grimy; H.M.S. +_Samarang_, receiving-ship, and home of the captain of the port; +British vessels, steamers and sailing-ships, of every rig; foreign +craft of every aspect native to its waters: zebecques, faluchas, and +polaccas, with their curved spars and heavy lateen sails. + +A fleet of small boats surrounded the yacht, native boats of curious +build, and manned by dark-skinned natives of the Rock, in nondescript +attire--a noisy, pushing, quarrelsome lot, eager to do business, +gesticulating wildly, and jabbering loudly in many strange tongues. +Here was a pure Spaniard, with a red sash round his waist, and a +velvet cap, round as a cartwheel, on his head, with a boatful of +vegetables and early fruit. There was a grave and sedate Moor, in +green turban and white flowing robes, with an assortment of +gold-braided slippers and large brass trays. Next a Maltese +milk-seller, in scanty garments, nothing but short canvas trousers and +a shirt, who had come with cans full of goats'-milk from the herds he +kept on the barren slopes of the Rock. Not far off was the galley of +the health-officer, with a crew of "scorpion" boatmen in neat white +jackets and straw hats. + +On the deck of the yacht, under an awning--for the spring sun already +beat down hotly at noon--were the owner and his guests. Lord Lydstone, +cigar in mouth, lounged lazily upon a heap of rugs and cushions at the +feet of Mrs. Wilders, who took her ease luxuriantly in a comfortable +cane arm-chair. + +Blanche Cyprienne, Countess of St. Clair, had changed little since her +marriage. Her beauty had gained rather than lost; her manner was more +commanding, her look more haughty. Her fine eyes flashed insolently, +or were veiled in lazy disdain, and her voice spoke scornfully or +drawled with careless contempt, according to her mood. + +"So that is the Rock--the great Rock of Gibraltar," she was saying. +"What an extraordinary-looking place!" + +"You will say so, Countess, when you get on shore," said Lord +Lydstone. + +"Is there anything really to see?" she asked. "Is it worth the trouble +of landing?" + +"Why, of course! I thought it was all settled. The general sent some +hours ago to say he proposed to pay his respect to the Governor. You +cannot help yourself now." + +"Oh! the general," remarked Mrs. Wilders, as she was generally +styled--the title Countess was only used by intimate friends--in a +tone that implied she was not at all bound by her husband's plans. + +"Where is the good man just now?" inquired Lord Lydstone, in much the +same tone. + +"There, forward," said Mrs. Wilders, pointing to the part of the deck +beyond the awning. "Trying to get a sunstroke by walking about with +his head bare." + +"He does that on principle, Countess, don't you know. He wants to +harden his cranium, in case he loses his hat some day in action." + +"I hope he may never go into action. If he does, I should be sorry for +his men." + +"Not for him?" + +"That may be taken for granted," she replied, in a matter-of-fact way. + +"How fond you are of him! What devoted affection! It's lucky you have +little to spare!" + +"I keep it for the proper person." + +"Is there none for his relatives?" asked Lydstone, with a meaning +look. + +"Do any of them deserve my affection?" + +"I try very hard, Countess; and I should so value the smallest crumb." + +"Don't be foolish, Lord Lydstone! you must not try to make love to me; +it would be wrong. Besides, we are too nearly connected now." + +"You never throw me a single kind word, Blanche." + +"Certainly not. I won't have it on my conscience that I led you +astray, poor innocent lamb! A fine thing! What would your people say? +They're bitter enough against me as it is!" + +The Essendines had never properly acknowledged Colonel Wilders's +marriage, or treated his wife, the foreign countess, other than with +the coldest contempt. Lord Lydstone knew this, and knew too that his +mother was right; yet he could not defend her when this woman, whom he +admired still--too much, indeed, for his peace of mind--resented her +treatment. + +"Your mother has behaved disgracefully to me--that you must admit, +Lord Lydstone." + +"She is an old-fashioned, old-world lady, with peculiar straitlaced +notions of her own. But, if you please, we won't talk about her." + +"Why not? You cannot pretend that she was right in ignoring me, +flouting me, insulting me! Am I not your near relative's wife? Why, +Bill is only four off the title now." + +"One of them being your humble servant, who devoutly hopes that all +four will long interpose between him and the succession," said Lord +Lydstone, with a pleasant laugh. + +"I don't wish you any harm, of course; still it is as I say, and my +son--" + +"Aged two, and at present in England at nurse." + +"--May be the future Earl of Essendine." + +"He shan't be, if I can prevent it!" cried Lord Lydstone, gaily; "you +may rely on that. But, I say, here is a smart gig coming off from the +shore. I believe the Governor has sent his own barge for you. Here, +Bill! I say, Bill!" + +General Wilders came aft. + +"You had better put on your best clothes, general; they are coming to +fetch you in state." + +"I suppose, on this occasion only, you will wear a hat, Bill?" said +Mrs. Wilders. + +"I wish you would go down and get ready, my dear; we ought not to keep +the gig," said the general, as he himself went below to dress. + +"I am not so sure I shall go on shore at all," replied his wife. + +"No!" cried Lord Lydstone. "Throw the general over, and stay on board +with me." + +"That would be too great penance," said Mrs. Wilders, as she moved +towards the companion-ladder. "I've had enough of your lordship for +one day." + +Lydstone got up, looking rather vexed, and followed her across the +deck. When he was quite close to her side he whispered with suppressed +but manifest feeling-- + +"Why do you torture me so? Sometimes I think you care for me; +sometimes that you hate and detest me. What am I think?" + +"What you choose," she answered, in a low, quick voice, evidently much +displeased. "I have given you no right to speak to me in this way. Let +me pass, or I shall appeal to my lawful protector!" + +Presently Mrs. Wilders reappeared, dressed to perfection in some cool +light fabric, serene and smiling to everyone but Lord Lydstone. She +was especially gracious to young Mr. Wilders, who had come off in the +Governor's gig, and had been cordially welcomed by his brother. + +"Another cousin," said the general, introducing him. He was now in +uniform--the general--in uniform to suit his own fancy rather than the +regulations. The only orthodox articles of apparel were his twisted +general's scimitar and a forage-cap with a broad gold band. His coat +and waistcoat were of white cloth; he had a wide crimson sash round +his waist, and his lower limbs were encased in hunting-breeches and +long boots. "Anastasius, one of the Royal Picts." + +"All soldiers, you Wilders, all--except one." This was specially +intended to annoy Lydstone. "The future head of the house is kept in +cotton-wool; he is too precious, I suppose, to be risked." + +"It is not my fault," began Lydstone. It was a sore point with him +that he had not been permitted--in deference to his mother's fond +protests--to enter the army. + +"Are you not coming with us, Lydstone?" said his young brother, +greatly disappointed. "I did want to show you our mess." + +"I know Gibraltar by heart, and I have letters to write. I hope you +will enjoy yourself, Countess," he added, sarcastically, as they went +down the side. + +"There's no fear of that, now we have left you behind," replied Mrs. +Wilders, sharply. + +"Why can't you and Lydstone keep better friends?" said General +Wilders, a little shocked at this remark. + +"It's his fault, not mine, and that's enough about it," replied Mrs. +Wilders, rather petulantly. "Did you ever quarrel with your brother," +she went on to Anastasius, "when you were boys?" + +"I would not have dared. Not that I wanted to: we three brothers were +always the best of friends." + +"You are an affectionate family, Mr. Wilders; I have long been +convinced of that," said Mrs. Wilders, who could not leave the subject +alone. + +But now the gig, impelled by six stout oarsmen, was nearing the +Waterport Guard, and was already under the shadow of the frowning +batteries of the Devil's Tongue. High above them rose the sheer +straight wall of the rock, bristling with frowning fortifications, +line above line, and countless embrasures armed with heavy artillery. + +The wharf itself was crowded with the usual motley polyglot +gathering--sailors of all nations, soldiers of the garrison, Spanish +peasants from the neighbouring villages, native scorpions, policemen, +and inspectors of strangers. + +"How amusing! How interesting! It's like a scene in a play!" cried +Mrs. Wilders, as she stepped ashore. + +Escorted by her husband and cousin, they pushed their way through the +crowd towards the Waterport gateway, and under it into the main ditch. +As they approached there was a cry of "Guard, turn out!" and the +Waterport Guard, under its officer, fell in with open ranks to give +the general a salute. General Wilders acknowledged the compliment, +and, while he stood there with two fingers to his hat, Sergeant McKay +advanced and reported himself. + +"Your orderly, sir." + +"Eh! what?" said the general, a little surprised. "My orderly! Very +considerate of Sir Thomas," he went on. "One of the Royal Picts, too, +and a guard from the same regiment! Most attentive, I'm sure!" + +The general went up at once to the front rank of the guard, and +proceeded to inspect the men carefully. With his own hands he altered +the hang of the knapsacks and the position of the belts; he measured +in the regular way, with two fingers, the length of the pouch below +the elbow, grumbling to himself as he went along. + +"So you use harness-blacking for your pouches. I don't approve of +that. And your pipe-clay; it's got too blue a tinge." + +While he lingered thus fondly over the trifling details that, to his +mind, summed up the whole duty of a general officer, his wife's voice +was heard impatiently calling him to her side. + +"Come, general, don't be all day! How can you waste time over such +nonsense!" + +"My dear," said her husband, gravely, as he rejoined her, "this +regiment is to form part of my brigade"--McKay pricked up his +ears--"it is the first time I have seen any of it. You must allow +me--" + +"I am going on into the town; inspecting guards doesn't amuse me," and +the general discreetly abandoned his professional duties and walked on +by her side. + +The guard was dismissed by its commander; the men "lodged arms" and +went back to the guard-room. Only Sergeant Hyde remained outside, +watching the retreating figures of the Wilders' party. + +"I should have known her voice again amongst a thousand," said the old +sergeant, shaking his head; "and from the glimpse I caught of her she +seemed but little changed. I wonder whether she saw me. Not that she +would have recognised me; I am not what I was. No one here has made me +out, although a dozen years ago I was well known all over the Rock. +Besides, how could she see me? I was on the other flank, and, +fortunately, she left the general to inspect us by himself. Poor man! +I had rather be a sergeant--a private even--than stand in that +general's shoes." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. + + +The Wilders' party, after leaving the Waterport, passed through the +Casemate Barrack Square and entered Waterport Street, the chief +thoroughfare of the town. It was a narrow, unpretending street, very +foreign in aspect; the houses tall and overhanging with balconies +filled with flowers; the lattice-shutters gaily painted, having +outside blinds of brilliantly striped stuffs. + +The shop fronts were small, the wares common-place; the best show was +at the drapers, where they sold British calicoes and piece-goods in +flaunting colours, calculated to suit the local taste. + +The street, both pavement and roadway, was crowded. In the former were +long strings of pack-horses bringing in straw and charcoal from +Spain; small stout donkeys laden with water-barrels; officers, some in +undress uniform, many more in plain clothes, riding long-tailed barbs; +occasionally a commissariat wagon drawn by a pair of sleek mules, or a +high-hooded _caleche_, with its driver seated on the shafts, cut +through the throng. Detachments of troops, too, marched by: recruits +returning from drill upon the North Front, armed parties, guards +coming off duty, and others going on fatigue--all these cleared the +street before them. On the pavement the crowd was as diverse as might +be expected, from the mixed population. Stately Moors rubbed elbows +with stalwart British soldiers; Barbary Jews, dejected in mien, but +with shrewd, cunning eyes, chaffered with the itinerant vendors of +freshly caught sardines, or the newly-picked fruit of the prickly +pear. Now and again, quite out of keeping with her surroundings, a +rosy-cheeked British nursemaid passed by escorting her charges--the +blue-eyed, flaxen-haired children of the dominant race. + +General Wilders walked along with head erect, returning punctiliously +the innumerable salutes he received, quite happy, and in his element +in this essentially military post and stronghold. Mrs. Wilders seemed +also to enjoy the busy, animated scene: it was all so new to her, so +different from anything she had expected, as she was at great pains to +explain. The sight of this foreign town held by British bayonets +pleased her, she said; she was proud to think that she was now an +Englishwoman. + +"It is your first visit to Gibraltar, then?" said young Mr. Wilders, +anxious to be civil. + +"Oh, yes!" she replied; "that is why I am so interested--so amused by +all I see." + +Was this absolutely true? She seemed, as she led the way across the +casemate square and up Waterport Street, to know the road without +guidance, and once or twice a passer-by paused to look at her. Were +they only paying tribute to her radiant beauty, or was her's not +altogether an unfamiliar face? + +It was evident that there were those at Gibraltar who knew her, or +mistook her for some one else. + +As the party reached the Commercial Square, and the main guard, like +that at Waterport, turned out to do honour to the general, a man +pushed forward from a little group that stood respectfully behind the +party, and whispered hoarsely in Mrs. Wilders's ear-- + +"_Dios mio! Cypriana! Es usted?_" (Gracious Heavens! Cyprienne! Is it +you?) + +Mrs. Wilders stopped and looked round. At that moment, too, young +Wilders turned angrily on the man--a black-muzzled, Spanish-looking +fellow, dressed in a suit of coarse brown cloth, short jacket, +knee-breeches, and leather gaiters--the dress, in fact, of a +well-to-do Spanish peasant--and said, sharply, "How dare you speak to +this lady? What did he say to you, Mrs. Wilders--anything rude?" + +Mrs. Wilders had recovered herself sufficiently to reply in an +unconcerned tone-- + +"I did not understand his jargon; but it does not matter in the least; +don't make any fuss, I beg." + +The incident had been unobserved by any but these two, and it must +have been speedily forgotten by young Wilders, for he said nothing +more. But Mrs. Wilders, as they passed on, and for the rest of their +walk to the Convent, as the Governor's residence is still styled, +looked anxiously behind to see if the man who had claimed acquaintance +with her was still in sight. + +Yes; he was following her. What did he mean? + +Half an hour later, when the Wilders had made their bow to the +Governor, and it had been arranged that the general should attend an +inspection of troops upon the North Front, Mrs. Wilders declined to +accept the seat in the carriage offered her. She preferred, she said, +to explore the quaint old town. Mr. Wilders and one of the Governor's +aides-de-camps eagerly volunteered to escort, but she declined. + +"Many thanks, but I'd rather go alone. I shall be more independent." + +"You'll lose your way; or be arrested by the garrison police and taken +before the town major as a suspicious character, loitering too near +the fortifications," said the Governor, who thought it a capital joke. + +"No one will interfere with me, I think," she replied, quietly. "I am +quite able to take care of myself." + +She looked it just then, with her firm-set lips and flashing eyes. + +"Mrs. Wilders will have her own way," said her husband. "It's best to +give in to her. That's what I've found," he added, with a laugh, in +which all joined. + +When the horses were brought out for the parade, Mrs. Wilders, still +persisting in her intention of walking alone, said, gaily-- + +"Well, gentlemen, while you are playing at soldiers I shall go off on +my own devices. If I get tired, Bill, I shall go back to the yacht." + +And with this Mrs. Wilders walked off. + +"Here, sergeant!" cried the general to his orderly, McKay. "I don't +want you; you may be of use to Mrs. Wilders. Go after her." + +"Shall I report myself to her, sir?" + +"I don't advise you, my man. She'd send you about your business +double-quick. But you can keep your eye on her, and see she comes to +no harm." + +Sergeant McKay saluted and hastened out of the courtyard. Mrs. Wilders +had already disappeared down Convent Lane, and was just turning into +the main street. McKay followed quickly, keeping her in sight. + +It was evident that the best part of Gibraltar had no charms for Mrs. +Wilders; she did not want to look into the shop windows, such as they were; +nor did she pause to admire the architectural beauties of the Garrison +Library or other severely plain masterpieces of our military engineers. Her +course was towards the upper town, and she pressed on with quick, +unfaltering steps, as though she knew every inch of the ground. + +Ten minutes' sharp walking, sometimes by steep lanes, sometimes up +long flights of stone steps, brought her to the upper road leading to +the Moorish castle. This was essentially a native quarter; Spanish was +the only language heard from the children who swarmed about the +doorways, or their slatternly mothers quarreling over their washtubs, +or combing out and cleansing, in a manner that will not bear +description, their children's hair. Spanish colour prevailed, and +Spanish smells. + +Still pursuing her way without hesitation, Mrs. Wilders presently +turned up another steep alley bearing the historic name of "Red Hot +Shot Ramp," and paused opposite a gateway leading into a dirty +courtyard. The place was a kind of livery or bait stable patronised by +muleteers and gipsy dealers, who brought in horses from Spain. + +Picking her steps carefully, Mrs. Wilders entered the stable-yard. + +"Benito Villegas?" she asked in fluent Spanish, of the ostler, who +stared with open-mouthed surprise at this apparition of a fine lady in +such a dirty locality. + +"Benito, the commission agent and guide? Yes, senora, he is with his +horses inside," replied the ostler, pointing to the stable-door. + +"Call him, then!" cried Mrs. Wilders, imperiously. "Think you that I +will cross the threshold of your piggery?" and she waited, stamping +her foot impatiently whilst the man did her bidding. + +In another minute he came out with Benito Villegas, the man in the +brown suit, who had spoken to Mrs. Wilders in the Commercial Square. + +"Cypriana," he began at once, in a half-coaxing, half-apologetic tone. + +"Silence! Answer my questions, or I will thrash you with your own +whip. How dared you intrude yourself upon me to-day?" + +"Forgive me! I was so utterly amazed. I thought some bright vision had +descended from above, sent, perhaps, by the Holy Virgin"--he crossed +himself devoutly--"I could not believe it was you." + +"Thanks! I am not an angel from heaven, I know, but let that pass. +Answer me! How dared you speak to me to-day?" + +"The sight of you awoke old memories; once again I worshipped +you--your shadow--the ground on which you trod. I thought of how you +once returned my love." + +"Miserable cur! I never stooped so low." + +"You would have been mine but for that cursed Englishman who came +between us, and whom you preferred. What did you gain by listening to +him? He lured you from your home--" + +"No more! The villain met with his deserts. He is dead--dead these +years--and with him all my old life. That is what brings me here. +Attend now, Benito Villegas, to what I say!" + +"I am listening," he answered, cowering before her, and in a tone of +mingled fear and passion. It was evident this strange woman exercised +an extraordinary influence over him. + +"Never again must you presume to recognise me--to address me, +anywhere. If you do, take care! I am a great lady now--the wife of an +English general. I have great influence, much power, and can do what I +please with such scum as you. I have been with my husband just now to +the Convent, the palace of the Governor, and I have but to ask to +obtain your immediate expulsion from the Rock. Do not anger or oppose +me, man, or beware!" + +Benito looked at her with increasing awe. + +"Obey my behests, on the other hand, and I will reward you. Ask any +favour! Money?"--she quickly took out a little purse and handed him a +ten-pound note--"here is an earnest of what I will give you. Interest? +Do you want the good-will of the authorities--a snug appointment in +the Custom-house, or under the police? They are yours." + +"I am your slave; I will do your bidding, and ask nothing in return +but your approval." + +"Nothing! You grow singularly self-denying, Senor Benito." + +"The senora will really help me?" said Benito, now cringing and +obsequious. "One small favour, then. I am tired of this wandering +life. Here to-day in Cadiz; Ronda, Malaga, to-morrow. At everybody's +beck and call--never my own master, not for an hour. I want to settle +down." + +"To marry?" inquired Mrs. Wilders, contemptuously. "In your own +station? That is better." + +"I have not forgotten you, senora. But the wound was beginning to +heal--" + +She held up her hand with a menacing gesture. + +"I will not deny that I have cast my eyes upon a maiden that pleases +me," Benito confessed. "I have known her from childhood. Her friends +approve of my suit, and would accept me; but what lot can I offer a +wife?" + +"Well, how is it to be mended?" + +"For a small sum--five hundred dollars--I could purchase a share in +these stables." + +"You shall have the money at once as a gift." + +"I will promise in return never to trouble you again." + +"I make no conditions; only I warn you if you ever offend, if you ever +presume--" + +"I shall fully merit your displeasure." + +"Enough said!" she cut him short. "You know my wishes; see that they +are fulfilled. You shall hear from me again. For the present, +good-day." + +She gathered up the skirts of her dress, turned on her heel, and swept +out of the place. + +In the gateway she ran up against Serjeant McKay, who had been +hovering about the stables from the moment he saw Mrs. Wilders enter +the courtyard. He had seen nothing of what passed inside, and as the +interview with Benito occupied some time he had grown uneasy. Fearing +something had happened to the general's wife, he was on the point of +going in to look after her when he met her coming out. + +"You have been following me," said Mrs. Wilders, sharply, and jumping +with all a woman's quickness at the right conclusion. "Who set you to +spy on me?" + +"I beg your pardon, madam; I am not a spy," said the young serjeant, +formally saluting. + +"Don't bandy words with me. Tell me, I insist!" + +"The general was afraid something might happen to you. He thought you +might need assistance--perhaps lose your way." + +She looked at him very keenly as he said these last words, watching +whether there was any covert satire in them. + +But McKay's face betrayed nothing. + +"How long have you been at my heels? How much have you seen?" + +"I followed you from the Convent, madam, to this door. I have seen +nothing since you went in here." + +"I daresay you are wondering what brought me to such a place. A person +in whom I take a great interest, an old woman, lives here. I knew her +years ago. Psha! why should I condescend to explain? Look here, Mr. +Sergeant"--she took out her purse and produced a sovereign--"take +this, and drink my health!" + +The sergeant flushed crimson, and drew himself up stiffly, as he said, +with another formal salute, "Madam, you mistake!" + +"Strange!" she exclaimed, scornfully. "I thought all soldiers liked +drink. Well, keep the money; spend it as you like." + +"I cannot take it, madam; I am paid by the Queen to do my duty." + +"And you will not take a bribe to neglect it? Very fine, truly! +General Wilders shall know how well you executed his commands. But +there!--I have had enough of this; I wish to return to the yacht. Show +me the shortest way back to the water side. Lead on; I will follow +you." + +Sergeant McKay took a short cut down the steep steps, and soon +regained the Waterport. There Mrs. Wilders hailed a native boat, and, +without condescending to notice the orderly further, she seated +herself in the stern-sheets and was rowed off to the _Arcadia_. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A SOUTHERN PEARL. + + +"Mariquita! Ma--ri--kee--tah!" + +A woman's voice, shrill and quavering, with an accent of anger that +increased each time the summons was repeated. + +"What's come of the young vixen?" went on the speaker, addressing her +husband, the Tio Pedro, who sat with her behind the counter of a small +tobacconist's shop--an ugly beldame, shrank and shrivelled, with grey +elf-locks, sunk cheeks, and parchment complexion, looking ninety, yet +little more than half that age. Women ripen early, are soon at their +prime, and fade prematurely, under this quickening Southern sun. + +The husband was older, yet better preserved, than his wife--a large, +stout man, with a fierce face and black, baleful eyes. All cowered +before him except La Zandunga, as they called his wife here in +Bombardier Lane. He was at her mercy--a Spaniard resident on the Rock +by permit granted to his wife--a native of Gibraltar, and liable to be +expelled at any time unless she answered for him. + +The shop and stock-in-trade were hers, not his, and she ruled him and +the whole place. + +"Mariquita!" she called again and again, till at length, overflowing +with passion, she rushed from behind the counter into the premises at +the back of the shop. + +She entered a small but well-lighted room, communicating with a few +square feet of garden. At the end was a low fence; beyond this the +roadway intervening between the garden and the Line wall, or seaward +fortifications. + +La Zandunga looked hastily round the room. It contained half-a-dozen +small low tables, drawn near the window and open door, and at these +sat a posse of girls, busy with deft, nimble fingers, making +cigarettes and cigars. These workpeople were under the immediate +control of Mariquita, the mistress's niece. She was popular with them, +evidently, for no one would answer when La Zandunga shrieked out an +angry inquiry to each. + +No answer was needed. There was Mariquita at the end of the garden, +gossiping across the fence with young Sergeant McKay. + +It was quite an accident, of course. The serjeant, returning to his +quarters from Waterport, had seen Mariquita within, and made her a +signal she could not mistake. + +"I knew you would come out," he said, pleasantly, when she appeared, +shy and shrinking, yet with a glad light in her eyes. + +"_Vaya!_ what conceit! I was seeking a flower in the garden," she +answered demurely; but her low voice and heightened colour plainly +showed that she was ready to come to him whenever he called--to follow +him, indeed, all over the world. + +She spoke in Spanish, with its high-flown epithets and exaggerated +metaphor, a language in which Stanislas McKay, from his natural +aptitude and this charming tutorship, had made excellent progress. + +"My life, my jewel, my pearl!" he cried. + +A pearl, indeed, incomparable and above price for all who could +appreciate the charms and graces of bright blooming girlhood. + +Mariquita Hidalgo was still in her teens--a woman full grown, but with +the frank, innocent face of a child. A slender figure, tall, but +well-rounded and beautifully poised, having the free, elastic movement +of her Spanish ancestors, whose women are the best walkers in the +world. She had, too, the olive complexion as clear and transparent as +wax, the full crimson lips, the magnificent eyes, dark and lustrous, +the indices of an ardent temperament capable of the deepest passion, +the strongest love, or fiercest hate. + +A very gracious figure indeed was this splendid specimen of a handsome +race, as she stood there coyly talking to the man of her choice. + +The contrast was strongly marked between them. She, with raven hair, +dark skin, and soft brown eyes, was a perfect Southern brunette: +quick, impatient, impulsive, easily moved. He, fresh-coloured, +blue-eyed, with flaxen moustache, stalwart in frame, self-possessed, +reserved, almost cold and impassive in demeanour, was as excellent a +type of a native of the North. + +"What brings you this way, Senor don Sargento, at this time of day?" +said Mariquita. "Was it to see me? It was unwise, indiscreet; my +aunt--" + +"I have been on duty at Waterport," replied McKay, with a rather +ungallant frankness that made Mariquita pout. + +"It is plain I am only second in your thoughts. Duty--always duty. Why +did not you come last night to the Alameda when the band played?" + +"I could not, star of my soul! I was on guard." + +"Did I not say so?--duty again! And to-morrow? It is Sunday; you +promised to take me to Europa to see the great cave. Is that, too, +impossible?" + +McKay shook his head laughingly, and said-- + +"You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be +deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly--" + +"I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pettishly. "Go about +your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas. +Benito will take me where I want to go." + +"I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company," +said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was +obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my +fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember, +I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive." + +"I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and +serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march--to India, +Constantinople, Russia--where can any one say?--and I shall never see +you more." + +This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and +half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East. + +"Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win +promotion, fame--a better, higher, more honourable position for you to +share." + +It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her +resonant, unpleasant voice. + +"My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's +name!" + +The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse +of his retreating figure. + +"With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-nothing?" cried La +Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I +thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever +philandering and following you about--Who was it, I say?" + +Mariquita would not answer. + +"In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in +my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my +bounty--the home I give you--the bread you eat? Go in, jade, and earn +it, or I'll put you into the street." + +The girl, bending submissively under this storm of invective and +bitter reproach, walked slowly towards the house. Her aunt followed, +growling fiercely. + +"Cursed red-coat!--common, beggarly soldier! How can you, an Hidalgo +of the best blue blood, whose ancestors were settled here before the +English robbers stole the fortress--before the English?--before the +Moors! You, an Hidalgo, to take up with a base-born hireling +cut-throat--" + +"No more, aunt!" Mariquita turned on her with flashing eyes. "Call me +what you like, you shall not abuse him--my affianced lover--the man to +whom I have given my troth!" + +"What!" screamed the old crone, now furious with rage. "Do you dare +tell me that--to my face? Never, impudent huzzy--never, while I have +strength and spirit and power to say you no--shall you wed this hated +English mercenary--" + +"I will wed no one else." + +"That will we see. Is not your hand promised--" + +"Not with my consent." + +"--Promised, formally, to Benito Villegas--my husband's cousin?" + +"I have not consented. Never shall I agree. Benito is a villain. I +hate and detest him!" + +"Tell him so to his face, evil-tongued slut!--tell him if you dare! He +is now in the house. That is why I came to fetch you. I saw him +approaching." + +"He knows my opinion of him, but if you wish it, aunt, he shall hear +it again," said the young girl, undaunted; and she walked on through +the workroom, straight into the little shop. + +Benito was seated at the counter, talking confidentially, and in a +very low voice, with Tio Pedro. + +"Are the bales ready, uncle? In two days from now we can run them +through like oil in a tube." + +"Have you settled the terms?" + +"On both sides. Here the inspectors were difficult, but I oiled their +palms. On the other side the Custom-house officers are my friends. All +is straight and easy. The tobacco must be shipped to-morrow--" + +"In the same _falucha_?" + +"Yes; for Estepona. Be ready, then, at gunfire--" + +He stopped suddenly as Mariquita came in. + +"Beautiful as a star!" was his greeting; and in a fulsome, familiar +tone he went on--"You are like the sun at noon, my beauty, and burn +my heart with your bright eyes." + +"Insolent!" retorted Mariquita. "Hold your tongue." + +"What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest? Come, sit here on my +knee and listen, while I whisper some good news." + +"Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not +speak to you at all." + +"Good news! what then?" put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice. + +"My fortune is made. I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock. +Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la +Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please." + +"Fortunate girl!" said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita. + +"It does not affect me," replied the girl, with chilling contempt. +"Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to +offer, you should never call me yours." + +Benito's face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply. + +"Don't mind her, my son," said the old man. "She has lost her senses: +the evil one has bitten her." + +"Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats," interposed his wife, +"who has cast a spell over her. I thought I saw him at the garden just +now. If I was only certain--" + +"Silly girl, beware!" cried Benito, with bitter meaning. "I know him: +hateful, despicable hound! He is only trifling with you. He cares +nothing for you; you are not to his taste. What! He, a Northern +pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair! +Never! I know better. Only to-day I saw him with the woman he +prefers--a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself." + +He had touched the Southern woman's most sensitive chord. Jealousy +flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, +though she calmly answered-- + +"It is not true." + +"Ask him yourself. I tell you I saw them together: first near our +stables, and then down by Waterport--a splendid woman!" + +Waterport! McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the +Rock. There was something in it, then. Was he playing her false? No. +She would trust him still. + +"I do not believe you, Benito. Such suspicions are worthy only of a +place in your false, black heart!" and with these words Mariquita +rushed away. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +OFF TO THE WARS. + + +Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, +where "lay" the Royal Picts--to use a soldier's phrase. The few words +let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay, had been +verified. "The route had come," and the regiment was under orders to +join the expeditionary army in the East. + +A splendid body, standing eight hundred strong on parade: strong, +stalwart fellows, all of them, bronzed and bearded, admirably +appointed, perfectly drilled--one of many such magnificent battalions, +the flower of the British army, worthily maintaining the reputation of +the finest infantry in the world. + +Alas! that long years of peace should have rusted administrative +machinery! That so many of these and other brave men should be +sacrificed before the year was out for want of food, fuel, and +clothing--the commonest supplies. + +There seemed little need to improve a military machine so perfect at +all its points. But the fastidious eye of Colonel Blythe, who +commanded the Royal Picts, saw many blemishes in his regiment, and he +was determined to make the most of the time still intervening before +embarkation. Parades were perpetual; for the inspection of arms and +accoutrements, for developing manual dexterity, and efficiency in +drill. Still he was not satisfied. + +"We must have a new sergeant-major," said the old martinet to his +adjutant in the orderly-room. + +The post was vacant for the moment through the promotion of its late +holder to be quartermaster. + +"Yes, sir; the sooner the better. The difficulty is to choose." + +"I have been thinking it over, Smallfield, and have decided to promote +Hyde. Send for him." + +Colour-sergeant Hyde, erect, self-possessed--a pattern soldier in +appearance and propriety--presently marched in and stood respectfully +at "attention" before his superior. + +"Sergeant Hyde!" said the colonel, abruptly, "I am going to make you a +sergeant-major." + +"Thank you, sir," said Hyde, saluting; "I had rather not take it." + +"Heavens above!" cried the colonel, fiercely. He was of the old +school, and used expletives freely. "You must be an idiot!" + +"I am sensible, sir, of the honour you would do me, but--" + +"Nonsense, man! I insist. I must have you." + +"No, sir," said Hyde, firmly, "I must decline the honour." + +"Was there ever such an extraordinary fellow? Why, man alive! it will +reinstate you--" + +"I must beg, sir," said Hyde, hastily interrupting, and looking with +intention towards the adjutant. + +"Yes, yes! I understand," said the colonel. "Leave us, Mr. Smallfield; +I wish to speak to Sergeant Hyde alone." + +"You have my secret, Colonel Blythe," said Hyde, when the adjutant had +left the room, "but I have your promise." + +"I was near forgetting it, I confess; but I was so upset, so put out, +at your cursed obstinacy. Why will you persist in keeping in the +background? Accept this promotion, and you shall have a commission +before the year is out." + +"I do not want a commission; I am perfectly happy as I am." + +"Was there ever such a pig-headed fellow? Come, Hyde, be persuaded." +The colonel got up from his seat and walked round to where the +sergeant stood, still erect and motionless. "Come, Rupert, old +comrade, old friend," and he put his hand affectionately on the +sergeant's shoulder. + +The muscles of the sergeant's face worked visibly. + +"It's no use, Blythe; I am dead to the world. I have no desire to +rise." + +"But it's so aggravating; it puts me in such a hole," said the +colonel, striding up and down the office. "You're just the man we +want--superior in every way. You would hold your own so well with the +other non-commissioned officers. I do wish--Where am I to find +another?" + +"I can tell you, if you will listen to my advice." + +"Yes? Speak out." + +"Young McKay; he would make an excellent sergeant-major." + +"I know him--a smart, sensible, intelligent young fellow. But has he +ballast--education?" + +"He is better born than you or me, colonel. A lad of excellent parts +and first-rate education. Bring him on, and he will do you and the +regiment credit yet." + +The colonel sat down again at his desk, and seemed lost in thought. + +"I must ask Smallfield. Call in the adjutant, will you?" he added, in +a voice that implied their conventional relations as superior officer +and sergeant were resumed. + +Half an hour later McKay was standing in Hyde's place, receiving the +same offer, but accepting, although diffidently. + +"I am not fit for the post, sir," he protested. + +"That's my affair. I have selected you for reasons of my own, and the +responsibility is mine." + +"I will try my best, sir; that is all I can say." + +"It's quite enough. Do your best, and you will satisfy me." + +"I can't think why he chose me," confided Stanislas to his friend +Hyde, later on, in the sergeants' mess. + +"Can't you?" replied his friend, drily. "It's a case of hidden merit +receiving its right reward." + +"I have never thought that the colonel noticed me, or distinguished me +from any of the other sergeants," said Stanislas. + +"Probably your good qualities were pointed out to him," replied Hyde, +still in the same tone. "Or your fine friends and relations have used +their influence." + +"It is little likely; and, as I tell you, I don't understand it in the +least." + +"Leave it so. No doubt you will find out some day. In the meantime do +justice to your recommendation, whoever gave it. You have got your +foot on the ladder now, but no one can help you to climb; that must +depend upon your own exertions." + +"Yes, but you can help me, Hyde, with your advice, encouragement, +support. I am very young to be put up so high, and over men of +standing and experience like yourself." + +"You will have no more loyal subordinate than me, Sergeant-major +McKay. Come to me whenever you are in trouble or doubt. I will do all +I can, you may depend. I like you, boy, and that's enough said." + +The old sergeant seized McKay's hand, shook it warmly, and then +abruptly quitted the room. + +Stanislas was eager to tell this pleasing news of his promotion to +Mariquita; but she was the last person to hear it, notwithstanding. +McKay entered at once upon his new duties, and they kept him close +from morning till night. A good sergeant-major allows himself no +leisure. He is the first on parade, the last to leave it. He is +perpetually on the move; now inspecting guards and pickets, now +superintending drills, while all day long he has his eye upon the +conduct of the non-commissioned officers, and the demeanour and dress +of the private men. + +There was no time to hang about the tobacconist's shop in Bombardier +Lane, waiting furtively for a chance of seeing Mariquita alone. They +kept their eye upon her, too; and when at last he tore himself away +from his new and absorbing duties he paid two or three visits to the +place before he could speak to her. + +Mariquita received him coldly--distantly. + +They were standing, as usual, on each side of the low fence at the end +of the garden. + +"What's wrong, little star? How have I offended you?" + +"I wonder that you trouble to come here at all, Don Stanislas. It's +more than a week since I you." + +"I have been so busy. My new duties: they have made me, you know--" + +"Throw that bone to some other dog," interrupted Mariquita, abruptly. +"I am to be no longer deceived by your pretended duties. I know the +truth: you prefer some other girl." + +"Mariquita!" protested McKay. + +"I have heard all. Do not try to deny it. She is tall and fair; one of +your compatriots. You were seen together." + +"Where, pray? Who has told you this nonsense?" + +"At Waterport. Benito saw you." + +McKay laughed merrily. + +"I see it all. Why, you foolish, jealous Mariquita, that was my +general's wife--a great lady. I was attending and following her about +like a lackey. I would not dare to lift my eyes to her even if I +wished, which is certainly not the case." + +Mariquita was beginning to relent. Her big eyes filled with tear, and +she said in a broken voice, as though this quarrel with her lover had +pained her greatly-- + +"Oh, oily-tongued! if only I could believe you!" + +"Why, of course it's true. Surely you would not let that villain +Benito make mischief between us? But, there; time is too precious to +waste in silly squabbles. I can't stay long; I can't tell when I shall +come again." + +"Is your love beginning to cool, Stanislas? If so, we had better part +before--" + +"Listen, dearest," interrupted McKay; "I have good news for you," and +he told her of his unexpected promotion, and of the excellent +prospects it held forth. + +"I am nearly certain to win a commission before very long. Now that we +are going to the war--" + +"The war!" Mariquita's face turned ghastly white; she put her hand +upon her heart, and was on the point of falling to the ground when +McKay vaulted lightly over the fence and saved her by putting his arm +round her waist. + +"Idiot that I was to blurt it out like that, after thinking all the +week how best to break the news! Mariquita! Mariquita! speak to me, I +implore you!" + +But the poor child was too much overcome to reply, and he led her, +dazed and half-fainting, to a little seat near the house, where, with +soft caresses and endearing words, he sought to restore her to +herself. + +"The war!" she said, at length. "It has come, then, the terrible news +that I have so dreaded. We are to part, and I shall never, never see +you again." + +"What nonsense, Mariquita! Be brave! Remember you are to be a +soldier's wife. Be brave, I say." + +"They will kill you! Oh! if they only dared, I would be revenged!" + +"Bravo, my pet! that is the proper spirit. You would fight the +Russians, wouldn't you?" + +"I would do anything, Stanislas, to help you, to shield you from harm. Why +can't I go with you? Who knows! I might save you. I, a weak, helpless girl, +would be strong if you were in danger. I am ready, Stanislas, to sacrifice +my life for yours." + +Greatly touched by the deep devotion displayed by these sweet words, +McKay bent his head and kissed her on the lips. + +But at this moment the tender scene was abruptly ended by the shrill, +strident tones of La Zandunga's voice. + +"So I have caught you, shameless girl, philandering again with this +rascally red-coat. May he die in a dog-kennel! Here, in my very house! +But, I promise you, it is for the last time. _Hola!_ Benito! Pedro! +help!" and, screaming wildly, the old crone tore Mariquita from +McKay's side and dragged her into the house. + +The young sergeant, eager to protect his love from ill-usage, would +have followed, but he was confronted by Benito, who now stood in the +doorway, black and menacing, with a great two-edged Albacete knife in +his hand. + +"Stand back, miscreant, hated Englishman, or I will stab you to the +heart." + +Nothing daunted by the threat, McKay advanced boldly on Benito; with +one hand he caught his would-be assailant by the throat; with the +other the wrist that was lifted to strike. A few seconds more, and +Benito had measured his length on the ground, while his murderous +weapon had passed into the possession of McKay. + +Having thus disposed of one opponent, McKay met a second, in the +person of Tio Pedro, who, slower in his movements, had also come out +in answer to his wife's appeal. + +"Who are you that dares to intrude here?" asked Pedro, roughly. "I +will complain to the town major, and have you punished for this." + +"Look to yourself, rather!" replied McKay, hotly. "I stand too high to +fear your threats. But you, thief and smuggler, I will bring the +police upon you and your accomplice, who has just tried to murder me +with his knife." + +Tio Pedro turned ghastly pale at the sergeant-major's words. He had +evidently no wish for a domiciliary visit, and would have been glad to +be well rid of McKay. + +"Let him be! Let him be!" he said, attempting to pacify Benito, who, +smarting from his recent overthrow, seemed ready to renew the +struggle. "Let him be! It is all a mistake. The gentleman has +explained his business here, and nothing more need be said." + +"Nothing more!" hissed Benito, between his teeth. "Not when he has +insulted me--struck me! Nothing more! We shall have to settle accounts +together, he and I. Look to yourself Senor Englishman. There is no +bond that does not some day run out; no debt that is never paid." + +McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little +longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house. + +It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again +before his departure. The few short days intervening before +embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost +wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and +visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible, +and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one +good-bye. + +But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart. As the +regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down +to the New Mole, where the transport-ship awaited it, an excited +throng of spectators lined the way. Colonel Blythe headed his +regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation, +marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head +high, proudly conscious of his honourable position. The colonel and +the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as +they passed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream. + +He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared +face and streaming eyes. + +What could he do? It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible +to emotion. But this was more than mortal man could do. He paused, +lingering irresolutely, when the colonel noticed his agitation, and +quickly guessed the exact state of the case. + +"'The girl I left behind me,' eh, sergeant-major? Well, fall out for a +minute or two, if you like"--and, with this kindly and considerate +permission, McKay took Mariquita aside to make his last _adieux_. + +"_Adios! vida mia_" [good-bye, my life], he was saying, when the poor +girl almost fainted in his arms. + +He looked round, greatly perplexed, and happily his eye fell upon +Sergeant Hyde. + +"Here, Hyde," he said, "take charge of this dear girl." + +"What! sergeant-major, have you been caught in the toils of one of +these bright-eyed damsels? It is well we have got the route. They are +dangerous cattle, these women; and, if you let them, will hang like a +mill-stone round a soldier's neck." + +"Pshaw! man, don't moralise. This girl is my heart's choice. Please +Heaven I may return to console her for present sorrow. But I can't +wait. Help me: I can trust you. See Mariquita safely back to her home, +and then join us on board." + +"I shall be taken up as a deserter." + +"Nonsense! I will see to that with the adjutant. We do not sail for +two hours at least; you will have plenty of time." + +Sergeant Hyde, although unwillingly, accepted the trust, and thus met +Mariquita for the first time. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A GENERAL ACTION. + + +A long low line of coast trending along north and south as far as the +eye could reach; nearest at hand a strip of beach, smooth shingle cast +up by the surf of westerly gales; next, a swelling upland, dotted with +grazing cattle, snug homesteads, and stacks of hay and corn; beyond, a +range of low hills, steep-faced and reddish-hued. + +The Crimea! The land of promise; the great goal to which the thoughts +of every man in two vast hosts had been turned for many months past. +On the furze-clad common of Chobham camp, on the long voyage out, at +Gallipoli, while eating out their hearts at irritating inaction; on +the sweltering, malarious Bulgarian plains, fever-stricken and +cholera-cursed; at Varna, waiting impatiently, almost hopelessly, for +orders to sail, twenty thousand British soldiers of all ranks had +longed to look upon this Crimean shore. It was here, so ran the common +rumour, that the chief power of the mighty Czar was concentrated; here +stood Sebastopol, the famous fortress, the great stronghold and +arsenal of Southern Russia; here, at length, the opposing forces would +join issue, and the allies, after months of tedious expectation, would +find themselves face to face with their foe. + +No wonder, then, that hearts beat high as our men gazed eagerly upon +the Crimea. The prospect southward was still more calculated to stir +emotion. The whole surface of that Eastern sea was covered with the +navies of the Western Powers. The long array stretched north and south +for many a mile; it extended westward, far back to the distant +horizon, and beyond: a countless forest of masts, a jumble of sails +and smoke-stacks, a crowd of fighting-ships and transports, +three-deckers, frigates, great troopers, ocean steamers, full-rigged +ships--an Armada such as the world had never seen before. A grand +display of naval power, a magnificent expedition marshalled with +perfect precision, moving by day in well-kept parallel lines; at +night, motionless, and studding the sea with a "second heaven of +stars." + +Day dawned propitious on the morning of the landing: a bright, and +soon fierce, sun rose on a cloudless sky. At a given signal the boats +were lowered--a nearly countless flotilla; the troops went overboard +silently and with admirable despatch, and all again, by signal, +started in one long perfect line for the shore. Within an hour the +boats were beached, the troops sprang eagerly to land, and the +invasion was completed without accident, and unopposed. + +The Royal Picts, coming straight from Gibraltar, had joined the +expedition at Varna without disembarking. The regiment had thus been +long on ship-board, but it had lost none of its smartness, and formed +up on the beach with as much precision as on the South Barracks +parade. It fell into its place at once, upon the right of General +Wilders's brigade, and that gallant officer was not long in welcoming +it to his command. + +Everyone was in the highest health and spirits, overflowing with +excitement and enthusiasm. At the appearance of their general, the +men, greatly to his annoyance, set up a wild, irregular cheer. + +"Silence, men, silence! It is most unsoldierlike. Keep your shouting +till you charge. Here, Colonel Blythe, we will get rid of a little of +this superfluous energy. Advance, in skirmishing order, to the +plateau, and hold it. There are Cossacks about, and the landing is not +yet completed. But do not advance beyond the plateau. You understand?" + +The regiment promptly executed the manoeuvre indicated, and gained +the rising ground. The view thence inland was more extended, and at no +great distance a road crossed, along which was seen a long line of +native carts, toiling painfully, and escorted by a few of the enemy's +horse. + +"We must have those carts." The speaker was a staff-officer, the +quartermaster-general, an eagle-eyed, decisive-speaking, short, +slender man, who was riding a splendid charger, which he sat to +perfection. "Colonel Blythe! send forward your right company at the +double, and capture them." + +"My brigadier ordered me not to advance," replied the old colonel, +rather stolidly. + +"Do as I tell you; I will take the responsibility. But look sharp!" + +Already, no doubt under orders from the escort, the drivers were +unharnessing their teams, with the idea of making off with the cattle. +The skirmishers of the Royal Picts advanced quickly within range, and +opened fire--the first shots these upon Russian soil--and some of them +took effect. The carts were abandoned, and speedily changed masters. + +"We shall want those carts," said old Hyde, abruptly, to his friend +the sergeant-major. They had watched this little episode together. + +"Yes, I suppose they will come in useful." + +"I should think so. Are you aware that this fine force of ours is +quite without transport? At least, I have seen none. Do you know what +that means?" + +"That we shall have to be our own beasts of burden," said McKay, +laughing, as he touched his havresack. It was comfortably lined with +biscuit and cold salt pork--three days' rations, and the only food +that he or his comrades were likely to get for some time. + +"I'm not afraid of roughing it," said the old soldier. "I have done +that often enough. We have got our greatcoats and blankets, and I +daresay we shan't hurt; but I have seen something of campaigning, and +I tell you honestly I don't like the way in which we have started on +this job." + +"What an inveterate old grumbler you are, Hyde! Besides, what right +have you to criticise the general and his plans?" + +"We have entered into this business a great deal too lightly, I am +quite convinced of that," said Hyde, positively. "There has been no +sufficient preparation." + +"Nonsense, man! They have been months getting the expedition ready." + +"And still it is wanting in the most necessary things. It has to trust +to luck for its transport," and the old sergeant pointed with his +thumb to the captured carts. "We may, perhaps, get as many more; but, +even then, there won't be enough to supply us with food if we go much +further inland; we may never see our knapsacks again, or our tents." + +"We shan't want them; it won't do us any harm to sleep in the open. +Napoleon always said that the bivouac was the finest training for +troops." + +"You will be glad enough of shelter, sergeant-major, before to-night's +out, mark my words! The French are better off than we are; they have +got everything to their hands--their shelter-tents, knapsacks, and +all. They understand campaigning; I think we have forgotten the art." + +"As if we have anything to learn from the French!" said the +self-satisfied young Briton, by way of ending the conversation. + +But Sergeant Hyde was right, so far as the need for shelter was +concerned. As evening closed in, heavy clouds came up from the sea, +and it rained in torrents all night. + +A miserable night it was! The whole army lay exposed to the fury of +the elements on the bleak hillside, drenched to the skin, in pools and +watercourses, under saturated blankets, without fuel, or the chance of +lighting a bivouac fire. It was the same for all; the generals of +division, high staff-officers, colonels, captains, and private men. +The first night on Crimean soil was no bad precursor of the dreadful +winter still to come. + +Next day the prospect brightened a little. The sun came out and dried +damp clothes; tents were landed, only to be re-embarked when the army +commenced its march. This was on the third day after disembarkation, +when, with all the pomp and circumstance of a parade movement, the +allied generals advanced southward along the coast. They were in +search of an enemy which had shown a strange reluctance to come to +blows, and had already missed a splendid opportunity of interfering +with the landing. + +The place of honour in the order of march was assigned to the English, +who were on the left, with that flank unprotected and "in the air"; on +their right marched the French; on whose right, again, the Turks; then +came the sea. Moving parallel with the land-forces, the allied fleets +held undisputed dominion of the waters. A competent critic could +detect no brilliant strategy in the operations so far; no astute, +carefully calculated plan directed the march. One simple and primitive +idea possessed the minds of the allied commanders, and that was to +come to close quarters, and fight the Russians wherever they could be +found. + +There could be only one termination to such a military policy as this +when every hour lessened the distance between the opposing forces. At +the end of the first day's march, most toilsome and trying to troops +still harassed by fell disease, it was plain that the enemy were close +at hand. Large bodies of their cavalry hung black and menacing along +our front--the advance guards these of a large force in position +behind. Any moment might bring on a collision. It was nearly +precipitated, and prematurely, by the action of our horse--a small +handful of cavalry, led by a fiery impatient soldier, eager, like all +under his command, to cross swords with the enemy. + +A couple of English cavalry regiments had been pushed forward to +reconnoitre the strength of the Russians. The horsemen rode out in +gallant style, but were checked by artillery fire; a British battery +galloped up and replied. Presently the round-shot bounded like cricket +balls, but at murderous pace, across the plain. More cavalry went +forward on our side, and two whole infantry divisions, in one of which +was the Royal Picts, followed in support. + +Surely a battle was close at hand. But nothing came of this +demonstration. Why, was not quite clear, till Hugo Wilders, who was a +captain in the Royal Lancers, came galloping by, and exchanged a few +hasty words with the general, his cousin Bill. + +"What's up, Hugo?" The general was riding just in front of the Royal +Picts, and his words were heard by many of the regiment. + +"Just fancy! we were on the point of having a brush with the Cossacks, +when Lord Raglan came up and spoiled the fun." + +"Do you know why?" + +"Yes; I heard him talking to our general--I am galloping, you know, +for Lord Cardigan, who was mad to be at them, I can tell you, but he +wasn't allowed." + +"They were far too strong for you; I could see that myself." + +"That's what Lord Raglan said. As if any one of us was not good enough +for twenty Russians! But he was particularly anxious, so I heard him +say, not to be drawn into an action to-day." + +"No doubt he was right," replied old Wilders. "Only it can't be put +off much longer. Unless I am greatly mistaken, to-morrow we shall be +at it hammer and tongs." + +"I hope I shall be somewhere near!" cried Hugo, gaily. "But where are +the Royal Picts? Oh! here! I want to give Anastasius good-day." + +He found his younger brother was carrying the regimental colours, and +the two young fellows exchanged pleasant greetings. It was quite a +little family party, for just behind, in the centre of the line, stood +Sergeant-major McKay, the unacknowledged cousin. How many of these +four Wilders would be alive next night? + +No doubt a battle was imminent. It was more than possible that there +would be a night attack, so both armies bivouacked in order of battle, +ready to stand up in their places and fight at the first alarm. + +But the night passed uneventfully. At daybreak the march was resumed, +and the day was still young when the allies came upon what seemed a +position of immense strength, occupied in force by the Russian troops. + +It was a broad barrier of hills, at right angles with the coast, lying +straight athwart our line of march. The hills, highest and steepest +near the water's edge, were still difficult in the centre, where the +great high road to Sebastopol pierced the position by a deep defile; +beyond the road, slopes more gentle ended on the outer flank in the +tall buttresslike Kourgane Hill. All along the front ran a rapid +river, the Alma, in a deep channel. Villages nestled on its banks--one +near the sea, one midway, one on the extreme right; and all about the +low ground rich vegetation flourished, in garden, vineyard, and copse. + +These were the heights of the Alma--historic ground, hallowed by many +memories of grim contest, vain prowess, glorious deeds, fell carnage, +and hideous death. + +"We are in for it now, my boy," whispered Sergeant Hyde, who was one +of the colour-party, and stood in the centre of the column, near +McKay. + +"What is it?" asked the young sergeant-major eagerly. "A fight?" + +"More than that--a general action. In another hour or two we shall be +engaged hotly along the whole line. Some of us will lose the number of +our mess before the day is done." + +The Royal Picts formed part of the second division, under the command +of Sir de Lacy Evans, a fine old soldier, who had seen service for +half a century. This division was on the right of the English army. On +the left of Sir de Lacy Evans was the Light Division, beyond that the +Highlanders and Guards. The Third Division was in reserve behind the +Second, the Fourth far in the rear, still near the sea-shore. + +The march had hitherto been in columns, a disposition that lent +itself readily to deployment into line--the traditional formation, +peculiar to the British arms, and the inevitable prelude to an attack. + +The order now given to form line was, therefore, promptly recognised +as the signal for the approaching struggle. It was rendered the more +necessary by the galling fire opened upon our troops by the enemy's +batteries, which crowned every point of vantage on the hills in front. + +Grandly, and with admirable precision, the three leading divisions of +the British army formed themselves into the historic "Thin Red Line," +renowned in the annals of European warfare, from Blenheim to Waterloo. + +This beautiful line, so slender, yet so imposing in its simple, +unsupported strength, was more than two miles long, and faced the +right half of the Russian position. As the divisions stood, the Guards +and Highlanders confronted the Kourgane Hill, with its greater and +lesser redoubts, armed with heavy guns and held by dense columns of +the enemy. Next them was the Light Division, facing the vineyards and +hamlets to the left of the great high road; before them were other +earth-works, manned by a no less formidable garrison and artillery. +The Second Division lay across the high road, opposite the village of +Bourliouk, high above which was an eighteen-gun battery and great +masses of Russian troops. + +General Wilders's brigade was on the extreme right of the British +front; its right regiment was the Royal Picts, the very centre this of +the battle-field, midway between the sea and the far left; and here +the allied generals had their last meeting before the combat +commenced. + +A single figure, sitting straight and soldier-like in his saddle, with +white hair blanched in the service of his country--a service fraught +with the perils and penalties of war, as the empty sleeve bore +witness--this single figure rode a little in advance of the British +staff. It was Fitzroy Somerset, now Lord Raglan, the close comrade and +trusted friend of the Iron Duke, by whose side he had ridden in every +action in Spain. His face was passive and serene. Contentment shone in +every feature. His martial spirit was stirred by the sights and sounds +of battle, once so familiar to him, but now for forty years unheard. +But the calm demeanour, the quiet voice, the steady, unflinching gaze, +all indicating a noble unconsciousness of danger, were those of the +chance rider in Rotten Row, not of a great commander carrying his own +life and that of thousands in his hand. + +The man who came to meet him was a soldier too, but of a different +type, cast in another mould--a Frenchman, emotional, easily excited, +quick in gesture, rapid-speaking, with a restless, fiery eye. St. +Arnaud, too, had long tried the fortunes of war. His was an intrepid, +eager spirit, but he was torn and convulsed with the tortures of a +mortal sickness, and at times, even at this triumphant hour, his face +was drawn and pale with inward agony. + +They were near enough, these supreme chiefs, for their conversation, +or parts of it, to be heard around. But they spoke in French, and few +but McKay understood the purport of all they said. + +"I am ready to advance at any moment," said Lord Raglan. "I am only +waiting for the development of your attack." + +"Bosquet started an hour ago, but he has a tremendous climb up those +cliffs." + +It was General Bosquet's business to assault the left of the Russian +position, strong in natural obstacles, and almost inaccessible to +troops. + +At this moment an aide-de-camp ventured to ride forward to his +general's side, and said-- + +"Do you hear that firing, my lord? I think the French on the right are +warmly engaged." + +"Are they?" replied Lord Raglan, doubtfully; "I can't catch any return +fire." + +"In any case," observed St. Arnaud, quickly, "it is time to lend him a +hand. The Prince Napoleon and Canrobert shall now advance." + +"The sooner the better," said Lord Raglan, simply; "I must wait till +their attack is developed before I can move." + +"You shall not wait long, my friend." + +The next instant the French mounted messengers were scouring the +plain. St. Arnaud paused a moment, then, gathering up his reins, he +put spurs to his horse and galloped away, saluted as he went by a loud +and hearty cheer. + +The sound must have gladdened the heart of the gallant Frenchman, for +he promptly reined in his horse, and, rising in his stirrups, +responded with a loud "Hurrah for Old England!" given in ringing +tones, and in excellent English. Then, still followed by cheers, he +went on his way. + +It is but poor fun waiting while others begin a great game--poor fun +and dangerous too, as the English line presently realised, while they +looked impatiently for the order to advance. The Russian gunners had +got their range, and were already plying them with shot and shell. At +the first gun, fired evidently at the British staff, Lord Raglan, as +cool and self-possessed as ever, turned to General Wilders, and said, +briefly-- + +"Your men had better lie down." + +"May I not cast loose cartridges first, my lord?" said the old +soldier, anxious to prepare for the serious business of the day. + +"With all my heart! But be quick; they must not stand up here to be +shot at for nothing." Then Lord Raglan himself, erect and fearless, +resumed his observation of the advancing French columns. + +"Dear, dear! how slow they are!" cried the eager voice of Airey, the +quartermaster-general. + +"Look! they are checked!" said another; "they can't stomach the +climb." + +"They have a tough job before them," said a third. "It will try them +hard." + +That the French were in difficulties was evident, for now an +aide-de-camp came galloping from Bosquet with the grave news that the +division was in danger. He was followed by another prominent person on +St. Arnaud's staff, bringing an earnest entreaty that the English +should not delay their advance. A fierce storm of iron hail, moreover, +made inaction more and more intolerable. + +The time was come! Lord Raglan turned and spoke five words to General +Airey. The next minute staff-officers were galloping to each division +with the glad tidings: "The line will advance!" + +All along it men rose from the ground with a resolute air, fell into +their ranks, and then the "Thin Red Line," having a front of two miles +and a depth of two men, marched grandly to the fight. + +It is with the doings of the Second Division, or more exactly with +Wilders's brigade of that body, that we are now principally concerned. + +The task before it was arduous and full of danger, demanding devoted +courage and unflinching hearts. + +At the moment of the advance the village immediately in front of them +burst into flames--a fierce conflagration, lighted by the retreating +foe. The dense columns of smoke hid the batteries beyond, and +magnified the dangers of attack; the fierce fire narrowed the path of +progress and squeezed in the advancing line. On the left, the Light +Division, moving forward with equal determination, still further +limited the ground for action; and, thus straitened and compressed, +the division marched upon a small front swept by a converging fire. So +cruelly hampered was the Second Division, so stinted in breathing +space, that a portion of General Wilders's command was shut out of the +advancing line, and circled round the right of the burning village. + +In this way the Royal Picts got divided; part went with the right of +the brigade, still under the personal direction of its brigadier; part +stuck to the main body, and followed on with the general tide of +advance. With the latter went the headquarters of the regiment; its +colonel, colours, and sergeant-major. + +They were travelling into the very jaws of death, as it seemed. +Progress was slow, and hindered by many vexatious obstacles--low walls +and brushwood, ruined cottages, and many dangerous pitfalls on the +vine-clad slopes--obstacles that forbade all speed, yet gave no cover +from the pitiless fire that searched every corner, and mowed men down +like grass. + +Casualties were terribly numerous; yet still the line, undaunted but +with sadly decreasing numbers, kept on its perilous way. Presently, +having won through the broken ground, a new barrier interposed. They +came upon the rapid river, rushing between steep banks, and deep +enough to drown all who risked the fords. But there was no pause or +hesitation; the men plunged bravely into the water, and, battling +with the torrent, crossed, not without difficulty and serious loss. + +Colonel Blythe, with the Royal Picts, was one of the first men over. +He rode a snow-white charger, which he put bravely at the steep bank, +and clambered up with the coolness of one who rode well to hounds. He +gained the top, and served as a rallying-point for the shattered +remnant of his regiment, which there quickly re-formed with as much +coolness and fastidious nicety as on a barrack-square at home. + +They were under shelter here, and, pausing to recover breath, could +look round and watch how the fight fared towards the left. + +At this moment the Light Division had effected a lodgment in the great +redoubt; but, even while they gazed, the Russian reserves were forcing +back the too-presumptuous few. Behind, a portion of the brigade of +Guards was advancing to reinforce the wavering line and renew the +attack. Beyond, further on the left, in an echelon, advanced three +lines, one behind the other, the Highlanders and their stout leader, +Sir Colin Campbell. + +It was only a passing glimpse, however, that our friends obtained. +Their leader knew that the fortunes of the day were still in doubt, +and that every man must throw his weight into the scale if victory was +to be assured. + +The line was again ordered to advance. The slope was steeper now; they +were scaling, really, the heights themselves. Just above them yawned +the mouths of the heavy guns that had been dealing such havoc while +they were painfully threading the intricacies of the low ground. + +"We must drive them out of that!" shouted old Blythe. "That battery +has been playing the mischief with us all along. Now, lads, shoulder +to shoulder; reserve your fire till we are at close quarters, then +give them the cold steel!" + +The Royal Picts set up a ringing cheer in cordial response to their +chieftain's call. The cheer passed quickly along the line, and all +again pressed forward in hot haste, with set teeth, and bayonets at +the charge. + +A withering fire of small arms met the Royal Picts as they approached +the battery; it was followed by the deafening roar of artillery; and +the murderous fire of the guns, great and small, nearly annihilated +the gallant band. Small wonder, then, that the survivors halted +irresolute, half disposed to turn back. Colonel Blythe was down. They +missed his encouraging voice; his noble figure was no more visible, +while his fine old white charger, riderless, his flanks streaming with +gore, was galloping madly down the hill. Many more officers were laid +low by this murderous discharge; amongst others, Anastasius Wilders +had fallen, severely wounded, and his blood had spurted out in a great +pool upon the colour he carried. + +All this happened in less time than it takes to describe. It was one +of those moments of dire emergency, of great opportunity--suddenly +arising, gone as swiftly beyond recall, unless snatched up and dealt +with by a prompt, audacious spirit. + +Young McKay saw it with the unerring instinct of a true soldier. He +acted instantaneously, and with bold decision. + +Stooping over his prostrate cousin, who lay entangled amidst the folds +of the now crimson silk, he gently detached the colour, and, raising +it aloft, cried-- + +"Come on, Royal Picts!" + +The men knew his voice, and, weakened, though not dispirited, they +gallantly responded to the appeal. Once more the line pressed forward. +The short space between them and the earthwork was quickly traversed. +Before the artillery could deal out a second salvo, the Royal Picts +were over the parapet and in the thick of the Russians, bayoneting +them as they stood at their guns. + +The battery was won. + +"Well done, sergeant-major--right well done! I saw it all. It shan't +be forgotten if we two come out of this alive!" + +The speaker was Colonel Blythe, who, happily, although dismounted by +the shot that wounded his horse, had so far escaped unhurt. + +"But this is no time for compliments; we must look to ourselves. The +enemy is still in great strength. They are bringing up the reserves." + +Above the battery a second line of columns loomed large and menacing. +Was this gallant handful of Englishmen, which had so courageously +gained a footing in the enemy's works, to bear the brunt of a fresh +conflict with a new and perfectly fresh foe? The situation was +critical. To advance would be madness; retreat was not to be thought +of; yet it might cost them their lives to maintain the ground they +held. + +While they paused in anxious debate, there came sounds of firing from +their right, aimed evidently at the Russians in front of them, for the +shot and shell ploughed through the ranks of the foe. + +"What guns can those be?" asked Colonel Blythe. "They are catching +them nicely in flank." + +"French, sir, I expect," replied McKay. "That is the side of their +attack." + +"Those are English guns, I feel sure. I know the crack they make." + +He was right; the guns belonged to Turner's battery, brought up at the +most opportune juncture by Lord Raglan's express commands. To +understand their appearance, and the important part they played in +deciding the battle on this portion of the field, we must follow the +other wing of the Royal Picts, which, when separated from the rest of +the brigade, passed round the right flank of the village. + +Hyde was with this detachment, and, as he afterwards told McKay, he +saw Lord Raglan and his staff ride forward, alone and unprotected, +across the river, straight into the enemy's position. In the river +two of his staff were shot down, and the commander-in-chief promptly +realised the meaning of this fire. + +"Ah!" he cried. "If they can enfilade us here, we can certainly +enfilade them on the rising ground above. Bring up some guns!" + +It was not easy travelling for artillery, but Turner was a man whom no +difficulties dismayed. Within an hour a couple of his guns had been +dragged up the steep gradient, were unlimbered, and served by the +officers themselves. + +It was the fire of this artillery that relieved the Royal Picts of +their most serious apprehensions. It tided them over the last critical +phase of the hotly-contested action, and completed the discomfiture of +the enemy on this side. + +Matters had gone no less prosperously on the left. The renewed attack +of the Light Division, supported by the Guards, had ended in the +capture of the great redoubt; while Sir Colin Campbell, a veteran +warrior, at the head of his "bare-legged savages," as they were +christened by their affrighted foe, had made himself master of the +Kourgane Hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AFTER THE BATTLE. + + +The Battle of the Alma was won! Three short hours had sufficed to +finish it, and by four o'clock the enemy was in full retreat. It was a +flight rather than a retreat--a headlong, ignominious stampede, in +which the fugitives cast aside their arms, accoutrements, knapsacks, +everything that could hinder them as they ran. Pursuit, if promptly +and vigorously carried out, would assuredly have cost them dear. But +the allies were short of cavalry; the British, greatly weakened by +their losses in this hard-fought field, could spare no fresh troops to +follow; the French, although they had scarcely suffered, and had a +large force available, would do nothing more; St. Arnaud declared +pursuit impossible, and this, the first fatal error in the campaign, +allowed the beaten general to draw off his shattered battalions. + +But, if the allied leaders rejected the more abiding and substantial +fruits of victory, they did not disdain the intoxicating but empty +glories of an ovation from their troops. The generals were everywhere +received with loud acclaims. + +Deafening cheers greeted Lord Raglan as he rode slowly down the line. +The cry was taken up by battalion after battalion, and went echoing +along--the splendid, hearty applause of men who were glorifying their +own achievements as well. + +There was joy on the face of every man who had come out of the fight +unscathed--the keen satisfaction of success, gloriously but hardly +earned. Warm greetings were interchanged by all who met and talked +together. Thus Lord Raglan and Sir Colin Campbell, both Peninsular +veterans, shook hands in memory of comradeship on earlier fields. Few +indeed had thus fought together before; but none were less cordial in +their expressions of thankfulness and cordial good-will. They told +each other of their adventures in the day--its episodes, perils, +narrow, hair-breadth escapes! they inquired eagerly for friends; and +then, as they learnt gradually the whole terrible truth, the awful +price at which victory had been secured, moments that had been radiant +grew overcast, and short-lived gladness fled. + +"Next to a battle lost, nothing is so dreadful as a battle won," said +Wellington, at the end, too, of his most triumphant day. The +slaughter is a sad set-off against the glory; groans of anguish are +the converse of exulting cheers. The field of conquest was stained +with the life's blood of thousands. The dead lay all around; some on +their backs, calmly sleeping as though death had inflicted no pangs; +the bodies of others were writhed and twisted with the excruciating +agony of their last hour. The wounded in every stage of suffering +strewed the ground, mutilated by round shot and shell, shattered by +grape, cut and slashed and stabbed by bayonet and sword. + +Their cries, the loud shriek of acute pain, the long-drawn moan of +the dying, the piercing appeal of those conscious, but unable to move, +filled every echo, and one of the first and most pressing duties for +all who could be spared was to afford help and succour. + +Now the incompleteness of the subsidiary services of the English army +became more strikingly apparent. It possessed no carefully organised, +well-appointed ambulance trains, no minutely perfect field-hospitals, +easily set up and ready to work at a moment's notice; medicines were +wanting; there was little or no chloroform; the only surgical +instruments were those the surgeons carried, while these indispensable +assistants were by no means too numerous, and already worked off their +legs. + +Parties were organised by every regiment, with stretchers and +water-bottles, to go over the field, to carry back the wounded to the +coast, and afford what help they could. The Royal Picts, like the +rest, hasten to send assistance to their stricken comrades. The +bandsmen, who had taken no part in the action, were detailed for the +duty, and the sergeant-major, at his own earnest request, was put in +charge. + +As they were on the point of marching off, General Wilders rode up. He +had been separated, it will be remembered, from part of his brigade, +and had still but a vague idea of how it had fared in the fight. + +"I saw nothing of you, colonel, during the action. Worse luck I went +with the wrong lot, on the right of the village." + +"It is well some of the regiment escaped what we went through," said +Colonel Blythe, sadly. "My left wing was nearly cut to pieces. I was +never under such a fire." + +"How many have you lost, do you suppose?" + +"We are now mustering the regiment: a sorrowful business enough. Seven +officers are missing." + +"What are their names?" + +"Popham, Smart, Drybergh, Arrowsmith--" + +"Anastasius--my young cousin--is he safe?" hastily interrupted the +general. + +Colonel Blythe shook his head. + +"I missed him half way up the hill; he was carrying the regimental colour, +but when we got into the battery it was in the sergeant-major's hands. I +wish to bring his--the sergeant-major's--conduct especially before your +notice, general." + +"The sergeant-major's? Very good. But if he took the colour he must +know what happened to Anastasius. Call him, will you?" + +Sergeant-major McKay came up and saluted. + +"Mr. Wilders, sir," he told the general, "was wounded as we were +breasting the slope." + +"You saw him go down? Where was he hit?" + +"I hadn't time to wait, sir." + +"I should think not," interrupted Colonel Blythe; "but for him, +general, we should never have carried the battery. I was dismounted, +the men were checked, and just at the right moment the sergeant-major +led them on." + +"Bravely done, my lad! You shall hear of this again; I will make a +special report to the commander of the forces. But there, that will +keep. We must see after this poor boy." + +"I was just sending off a party for the purpose," said the colonel. + +"That's right. You have some idea, I suppose"--this was to McKay--"of +the place where Mr. Wilders fell?" + +"Certainly, sir. I think I can easily find it." + +"Very well; show us the way. And you, Powys"--this was to the +aide-de-camp--"ride over to the Royal Lancers and tell Hugo Wilders +what has happened." + +Then the little band of Good Samaritans set out upon its painful +mission. The autumn evening was already closing in; the night air blew +chill across the desolate plain; already numbers of men were busy +amongst the wounded, assuaging their thirst from water-bottles, +covering the prostrate forms with blankets, and lending the surgeons a +helping hand. + +Half an hour brought the searchers of the Royal Picts to where young +Anastasius Wilders lay. McKay was the first to find him, and he raised +a shout of recognition as he ran forward to the wounded officer. +Unslinging his water-bottle, he put it to his cousin's lips; but young +Wilders waved the precious liquid aside, saying, although in a feeble +voice-- + +"Thank you; but I can wait. Give it to that poor chap over there; he +is far worse hit than I am." + +It was a private of the regiment, whose breast a bullet had pierced, +and whose tortures seemed terrible. + +But now the rest of the party came up. General Wilders dismounted, +flask in hand, and the wounded lad was rewarded for his self-denial. + +A surgeon, too, had arrived, and he was anxiously questioned as to the +nature of young Wilders's wound. + +The right leg had been shattered below the knee by a round shot; the +wound had bled profusely, but the poor lad managed to stanch it with +his shirt. + +"Can you save it?" whispered the general. + +"Impossible!" replied the surgeon, in the same tone. + +"We must amputate above the knee at once," and he turned up his +sleeves and gave instructions to an assistant to get ready the +instruments. + +The operation, performed without chloroform, and borne with heroic +fortitude, was over when Hugo Wilders rode up to the spot. Anastasius +recognised his brother, and answered his anxious, sorrowful greeting +with a faint smile. + +"What is to be done with him now?" asked the general. + +"We must get him on board ship--to-night, if possible; but how?" + +"We will carry him every inch of the way," said one of the bandsmen of +the Royal Picts. Young Wilders was idolised by the men. + +"It is three miles to the sea-shore: a long journey." + +"They can march in two reliefs, four carrying, four resting," said +McKay. + +"You must be very careful," said the surgeon. + +"Never fear! We will carry him as easy as a baby in its cot," replied +one of the soldiers. + +"Yes, yes! you can trust us," added McKay. + +"Are you going with them?" asked the general. + +"I should like to do so, sir." + +"And of course I shall go too," added Captain Wilders; and the +procession, thus formed, wended its way to the shore. + +It was midnight before McKay and the stretcher-party were relieved of +their precious charge, and when they had seen the wounded officer +embarked in one of the ship's boats, accompanied by his brother, they +laid down where they were to rest and await the daylight. + +Soon after dawn they were again on the move making once more for the +heights above the river, where they had left their regiment. Once +more, too, they traversed the battle-field, with its ghastly sights +and distressing sounds. It was still covered with the bodies of the +dead and dying, their numbers greatly increased, for many of the +wounded had succumbed to the tortures of the night. The figures of +ministering comrades still moved to and fro, and men of all ranks were +busily engaged in the good work. + +There were others whose action was more open to +question--camp-followers and sutlers, dropped from no one knew where, +who lurked in secret hiding-places, and issued forth, when the coast +seemed clear, to follow their loathsome trade of robbing the dead. + +McKay's little party, as they trudged along, suddenly put up one of +these evil birds of prey almost at their feet. The man rose and ran +for his life, pursued by the maledictions of the Royal Picts. + +"Stop him! Stop him!" they cried, and the fugitive was met and turned +at every point. But he doubled like a hare, and had nearly made his +escape when he fell almost into the arms of Sergeant Hyde. + +"Stick to him!" cried McKay. "We will hand him over to the +provost-marshal, who will give him a short shrift." + +A fierce struggle ensued between the fugitive and his captor, the +result of which seemed uncertain; but the former suddenly broke loose, +and again took to his heels. He made towards the French lines, and +disappeared amongst the clefts of the steep rocks. + +When McKay joined Hyde, he said to him, rather angrily-- + +"Why did you let the fellow go?" + +"I did my best, but he was like an eel. I had far rather have kept +him. I have wanted the scoundrel these dozen years." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes," replied Hyde, sternly. "I know him well, but I thought that he +was dead. It is better so; we have a long account to settle, and the +day of reckoning will certainly come." + +Thus ended the first collision between the opposing armies: the first +great conflict between European troops since Waterloo. The credit +gained by the victors, whose prowess echoed through the civilised +world, was greater, perhaps, than the results achieved. The Alma, as +we shall see, might have paved the way, under more skilful leadership, +to a prompt and glorious termination of the war. But, if it exercised +no sufficient influence upon the larger interests of the campaign, the +battle greatly affected the prospects of the principal character in +this story. + +Sergeant-major McKay was presently informed that, in recognition of +the signal bravery he had displayed at the storming of the Causeway +battery, his name had been submitted to the Queen for an ensign's +commission in the Royal Picts. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CATCHING A TARTAR. + + +After their victory at the Alma the allies tarried long on the ground +they had gained. There were many excuses, but no sound reasons, for +thus wasting precious moments that would never return. It was alleged +that more troops had to be landed; that the removal of the sick and +wounded to ship-board consumed much time; that further progress must +be postponed until the safest method of approaching Sebastopol had +been discussed in many and lengthy councils of war. + +Yet at this moment the great fortress and arsenal lay at their mercy. +They had but to put out their hands to capture it. Menschikoff's +beaten army was long in rallying, and when at last it resumed the +coherence of a fighting force its leader withdrew it altogether from +Sebastopol, thus abandoning the fortress to its fate. + +Its chief fortifications now were on the northern side, that nearest +the allies, and within a short day's march. Only one redoubt--the +so-called Star Fort--was of any formidable strength, and as this was +close to the sea-shore it was exposed to the bombardment of the fleets. +But the Star Port lay before the French, supposing that the original +order of march was preserved; and the French, exaggerating its powers +of resistance, could not be persuaded to face the risks of assault. +The fact was, St. Arnaud lay dying, and for the moment all vigour was +gone from the conduct of the French arms. + +Little doubt exists to-day that the northern fortifications could not +have resisted a determined attack. That it was not attempted was +another grave error; to be followed by yet another, when, after a +hazardous detour--the well-known "flank march"--the allies transferred +themselves to the southern side of Sebastopol, and again neglected a +palpable opportunity. The north side might be fairly well protected; +the south was practically defenceless; a few weak earth-works, +incomplete, and without artillery, were its only bulwarks; its only +garrison were a few militia battalions and some hastily-formed +regiments of sailors from the now sunken Russian ships of war. + +It must undoubtedly have fallen by a _coup de main_. But generals +hesitated and differed, bolder spirits were overruled, undue weight +was given to the too-cautious counsels of scientific soldiers, and it +was decided to sit down before and slowly besiege the place. + +The chance on which the allies turned their backs was quickly seized +by the enemy. One of the brightest pages in modern military annals is +that which records how the genius and indomitable energy of one man +improvised a resolute and protracted defence; and none have done +fuller justice to Todleben than the foes he so long and gallantly kept +at bay. + +The allies now entered, almost with light hearts, upon a siege that +was to last for eleven weary months and prove the source of unnumbered +woes. In a comfortable leisurely fashion they proceeded to break +ground, to open trenches, and approach the enemy's still unfinished +works by parallel and sap. The siege-train--the British War Minister's +fatal gift, encouraging as it did the policy of delay--was landed, as +were vast supplies of ammunition and warlike stores. Tents, too, were +brought up to the front, and the allied encampment soon covered the +plateau from the Tchernaya to the sea. The troops soon settled down in +their new quarters, and the heights before Sebastopol grew gradually a +hive of military industry, instinct with warlike sounds, teeming with +soldier life. + +The Royal Picts found themselves posted on the uplands above the +Tchernaya valley, very near the extreme right of the British front, +and here they took their share of the duties that now fell upon the +army, furnishing fatigue-parties to dig at the trenches, and armed +parties to cover them as they worked, and pickets by day and night to +watch the movements of the enemy. + +Since McKay's official recommendation for a commission, he had been +entrusted with duties above his position as sergeant-major. The +adjutant had been badly wounded at the Alma, and it was generally +understood that when promoted McKay would succeed him. Meanwhile he +was entrusted with various special missions appertaining to the rank +he soon expected to receive. + +One of these was his despatch to Balaclava to make inquiries for the +knapsacks of the regiment. They had been left on board ship, and the +transport had been expected daily in Balaclava harbour. The men were +sadly in want of a change of clothes, and neither these nor the little +odds and ends that go to make up a soldier's comfort were available +until they got their packs. McKay was directed to take a small party +with him to land the much-needed baggage and have it conveyed by hook +or crook to the front. + +He left the camp late in the afternoon, and, striking the great +Woronzoff Road just where it pierced the Fediukine Heights, descended +it until he reached the Balaclava plain. A few miles beyond, the +little town itself was visible, or, more exactly, the forest of masts +that already crowded its little land-locked port. + +Here, on the right of the communications between the English army and +its base, a long range of redoubts had been thrown up and garrisoned +by the Turks. These crowned the summit of a range of low hillocks, +and, in marching to his point, McKay paused on the level ground +between two hills. The Turks on sentry gave him a "Bono Johnny!" as he +passed, by way of greeting; but they were far too lazy and too sleepy +to do more. + +It was evident they kept a poor look-out, and doubtful strangers were +as free to pass as British friends. Just upon the rear of No. 3 +Redoubt McKay and his men came upon a fellow crouching low amongst the +broken ground. McKay would have passed by without remark, but his +first look at the stranger, who wore no uniform and seemed a harmless, +unoffending Tartar peasant, was followed by a second and keener gaze. +He thought he recognised the man; he certainly had seen his face +before. Directing his men to seize him, he made a longer and closer +inspection, and found that it was the ruffian whom they had surprised +and chased on the heights above the Alma the morning after the battle. + +"He is up to no good," said McKay. "We must take him along with us." + +But where? The job they were on was a definite one; not the capture of +chance prisoners, which would certainly delay them on the road. + +Still, remembering the last occasion on which he had seen this man, +and the mysterious remarks that Hyde had let fall concerning him, +McKay felt sure the fellow was not what he seemed. This Tartar dress +must be a disguise: how could Hyde have made the acquaintance years +before of a Tartar peasant in the Crimea? + +Certainly the man must go with them, and therefore, placing him +securely in the midst of his party, McKay marched on. If nothing +better offered, he would hand his prisoner over to the Commandant of +Balaclava on arrival there. + +But as they trudged along, and, leaving the cavalry-encampment on +their right, approached the ground occupied by the Highland brigade, +they encountered its general--McKay had seen him at the Alma--riding +out, accompanied by his staff. + +The quick eye of Sir Colin Campbell promptly detected the prisoner. He +rode up at once to the party, and said, in a sharp, angry tone-- + +"What are you doing with that peasant? Don't you know that the orders +are positive against molesting the inhabitants? Who is in command of +this party?" + +McKay stood forth and saluted. + +"You? A sergeant-major? Of the Royal Picts, too! You ought to know +better. Let the man go!" + +"I beg your pardon, Sir Colin," began McKay; "but--" + +"Don't argue with me, sir; do as I tell you. I have a great mind to +put you in arrest." + +McKay still stood in an attitude of mute but firm protest. + +"What does the fellow mean? Ask him, Shadwell. I suppose he must have +some reason, or he would not defy a general officer like this." + +Captain Shadwell, one of Sir Colin's staff, took McKay aside, and, +questioning him, learnt all the particulars of the capture. McKay told +him, too, what had occurred at the Alma. + +"The fellow must be a spy," said Sir Colin, abruptly, when the whole +of the facts were repeated to him. "We must cross-question him. I +wonder what language he speaks." + +The general himself tried him with French; but the prisoner shook his +head stupidly. Shadwell followed with German, but with like result. + +"I'll go bail he knows both, and English too, probably. He ought to be +tried in Russian now: that's the language of the country. He is +undoubtedly an impostor if he can't speak that. I wish we could try +him in Russian. If he failed, the provost-marshal should hang him on +the nearest post." + +This conversation passed in the full hearing of McKay, and when Sir +Colin stopped the sergeant-major stepped forward, again saluted, and +said modestly-- + +"I can speak Russian, sir." + +"You? An English soldier? In the ranks, too? Extraordinary! How on +earth--but that will keep. We will put this fellow through his +facings at once. Ask him his name, where he comes from, and all about +him. Tell him he must answer; that his silence will be taken as a +proof he is not what he pretends. No real Tartar peasant could fail to +understand Russian." + +"Who and what are you?" asked McKay. And this first question was +answered by the prisoner with an alacrity that indicated his +comprehension of every word that had been said. He evidently wished to +save his neck. + +"My name is Michaelis Baidarjee. Baidar is my home; but I have been +driven out by the Cossacks to-day." + +It was a lie, no doubt. Hyde had recognised him as a very different +person. + +"Ask him what brings him into our lines?" said Sir Colin, when this +answer had been duly interpreted. + +"I came to give valuable information to the Lords of the Universe," he +replied. "The Russians are on the move." + +"Ha!" Sir Colin's interest was aroused. "Go on; make him speak out. +Say he shall go free if he tells us truly all he knows." + +"Where are the Russians moving?" asked McKay. + +"This way"--the man pointed back beyond Tchorgorum. "They are +collecting over yonder, many, many thousands, and are marching this +way." + +"Do you mean that they intend to attack us?" + +"I think so. Why else do they come? Yesterday there were none. All +last night they were marching; to-morrow, at dawn, they will be here." + +"Who commands them?" + +"Liprandi. I saw him, and they told me his name." + +"This is most important," said Sir Colin; "we must know more. Find +out, sergeant-major, whether he can go back safely." + +"Back within the Russian lines?" + +"Exactly. He might go and return with the latest news." + +"You would never see the fellow again, Sir Colin. He is only +humbugging us--" + +"Put the question as I direct you," interrupted the general, abruptly. +"What we want is information; it must be got by any means." + +"Yes, I will go," the prisoner promised, joining his hands with a +gesture as if taking an oath; "and I would return this very night; you +shall have the exact numbers; shall know the road they are coming, +when to expect them--all." + +"Let him loose, then," said the general; "but warn him, if he plays us +false, that he had better not fall into our clutches again." + +"You may trust him not to do that, sir," said McKay, rather +discontented at seeing his prisoner so easily set free. + +The general ignored the remark, but he was evidently displeased at its +tone, for he now turned sharply on McKay, saying-- + +"As regards you--how comes it you speak Russian?" + +"I was born in Moscow." + +"Of Russian parents?" + +"My father was a Pole by birth, but by extraction a Scotchman." + +"What is your name?" + +"McKay--Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"Ah! Stanislas; I understand that. But how is it you were christened +Wilders? And Anastasius, too--that is a family name, I think. Are you +related to Lord Essendine?--a Wilders, in fact?" + +"Yes, sir, by my mother's side." + +"And yet you have taken the Queen's shilling! Strange! But it is no +business of mine. Young scapegrace, I suppose--" + +"My character is as good as--" "yours," McKay would have said, but +his reverence for the general's rank restrained him. "I enlisted +because I could not enter the British army and be a soldier in any +other way." + +"With your friends'--your relatives'--approval?" + +"With my mother's, certainly; and of those nearest me." + +"Do you know General Wilders--here in the Crimea, I mean?" + +"My regiment is in his brigade." + +"Yes, yes! I am aware of that. But have you made yourself known to +him, I mean?" + +The young sergeant-major knew that his gallantry at the Alma had won +him his general's approval, but he was too modest to refer to that +episode. + +"I have never claimed the relationship, sir," he answered, simply, but +with proud reticence; "it would not have beseemed my position." + +"Your sentiments do you credit, young man. That will do; you can +continue your march. Good-day!" + +They parted; McKay and his men went on to Balaclava, the general +towards the Second Division camp. + +"Curious meeting, that, Shadwell," said Sir Colin. "If I come across +Wilders I shall tell him the story. He might like to do his young +relative--a smart soldier evidently, or he would not be a +sergeant-major so early--a good turn." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"NOT WAR!" + + +The spy, whatever his nationality, and however questionable his +antecedents, was right in the intelligence he had communicated. A +large Russian force was even then on the march from Tchorgorum, +pointing straight for the Balaclava plain. The enemy had regained +heart; emboldened by the constant influx of reinforcements, and the +inactivity of the allies, he had grown audacious, and was ready to try +a vigorous offensive. A blow well aimed at our communications and +delivered with intention might drive us back on our ships, perhaps +into the sea. + +McKay had passed the night at Balaclava. The transport with the +knapsacks was not yet in port, and he was loth to return to camp +empty-handed. But next morning, soon after daylight, news came back +to the little seaside town that another battle was imminent, on the +plains outside. + +The handful of Royal Picts were promptly mustered by their young +commander, and marched in the direction of the firing, which was +already heard, hot and heavy, towards the east. + +As they left Balaclava, they encountered a crowd of Turkish soldiers +in full flight, making madly for the haven, and shouting, "Ship! +ship!" as they ran. McKay, gathering from this stampede that already +some serious conflict had begun, hurried forward to where he found a +line of red-coats drawn up behind a narrow ridge which barred the +approaches to Balaclava. + +This was the famous 93rd, in its now historic formation--another "Thin +Red Line," which received undaunted, and only two deep, the onslaught +of the Russian horse. + +The regiment was under the personal control of its brigadier, stout +old Sir Colin, who, with his staff, stood a little withdrawn, but +closely observing all that passed. He recognised McKay, and called out +abruptly-- + +"Halloa! where have you dropped from?" + +"I heard the firing, sir, met the Turks retreating, and brought up my +party to reinforce and act as might be ordered." + +"It was well done, man. But, enough; get yourselves up into line there +on the left, and take the word from the colonel of the 93rd." + +"We have our work cut out for us, sir," said one of his staff to Sir +Colin. + +"We have, but we'll do it. This gorge must be held to the death. You +understand that, Colonel Ainslie--to the death?" + +"You can trust us, Sir Colin." + +"I think so; but I'll say just one word to the men," and, while the +enemy's cavalry were still some distance off, the general rode slowly +down the line, speaking his last solemn injunction-- + +"Remember, men, there is no retreat from here. You must die where you +stand." + +One and the same answer rose readily to every lip-- + +"Ay! ay! Sir Colin; we'll do that!" shouted the gallant Scots.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Historical. _cf._ Kinglake's "Crimea," v. 80.] + +Their veteran leader's head was clear; his temper cool and +self-possessed. He held these brave hearts in hand like the rider of a +high-couraged horse, and knew well when to restrain, when to let go. + +As the Russians approached, a few eager spirits would have rushed +forward from their ranks to encounter their foe in the open plain; but +Sir Colin's trumpet voice checked them with a fierce-- + +"Ninety-third! Ninety-third! None of that eagerness!" + +And then a minute or two later came the signal for the whole line to +advance. The Highlanders, and those with them, swiftly mounted to the +crest of the ridge, and met the charging cavalry with a withering +volley. A second followed. The enemy had no stomach for more; reining +in their horses, they wheeled round and fell back as they had come. + +This, however, was only the beginning of the action. Heavy columns of +the enemy now appeared in sight, cavalry and infantry, with numerous +artillery crowning the eastern hills. A portion occupied the redoubts +abandoned by the Turks, and the attitude of the Russians was so +menacing that it seemed unlikely we could stay their onward progress. + +For the moment no troops could be interposed but the British +cavalry--the two brigades, Light and Heavy--which had their encampment +in the plain, and had been under arms, commanded by Lord Lucan, since +daybreak. + +"We must have up the First and Fourth Divisions," Lord Raglan had +said, when he arrived on the battle-field soon after eight in the +morning; at first he had treated the news of the Russian advance +lightly. Many such moves had been reported on previous days, and all +had ended in nothing. "Let the Duke of Cambridge and Sir George +Cathcart have their orders at once. We must trust to the cavalry till +the infantry come up. Tell Scarlett to support the Turks." + +But the Turks had given way before General Scarlett could stiffen +their courage, and as his brigade, that of heavy cavalry, trotted +towards the redoubts, other and more stirring work offered itself. The +head of a great column of Russian horse, three thousand sabres, came +over the crest of the hill and invited attack. + +Scarlett saw his opportunity, and, with true soldierly promptitude, +seized it. He wheeled his squadrons into line and charged. Three went +against the front, five against the right flank, one against the left. + +The intrepid "Heavies," outnumbered fivefold, dashed forward at a hand +gallop, and were soon swallowed up in the solid mass. But it could not +digest the terrible dose. Just eight minutes more and the Russian +column wavered, broke, and turned. + +It was a fine feat of arms, richly meriting its meed of praise. + +"Well done! well done!" was the message that came direct from Lord +Raglan, on the hills above. + +"Greys! Gallant Greys!" cried Sir Colin Campbell, galloping up to one +of the regiments that had made this charge. "I am sixty-one years old, +but if I were young I should be proud to be in your ranks!" + +"What luck those Heavies have!" shouted another and a bitterly +discontented spectator of their prowess. + +It was Lord Cardigan who, at the head of the Light Brigade, sat still +in his saddle, looking on. + +Yet it was no one's fault but his own that he had not been also +engaged. His men were within striking distance; they were bound, +moreover, by the clearest canons of the military art to throw their +weight upon the exposed flank of the discomfited foe. + +But Lord Cardigan had strangely--obstinately, indeed--misunderstood +his orders, and, although chafing angrily at inaction, conceived that +it was his bounden but distasteful duty to halt where he was. + +"Why don't he let us loose at them? Was there ever such a chance?" +muttered Hugo Wilders, audibly, and within earshot of his chief. He +was again riding as extra aide to Lord Cardigan, who turned fiercely +on the speaker. + +"How dare you, sir, question my conduct? You shall answer for your +insubordination--" + +"Let me implore you, my lord, to advance," said another voice, +entreating earnestly, that of Captain Morris, a cavalry officer who +knew war well, and who was, for the moment, in command of a +magnificent regiment of Lancers. + +"It is not your business to give me advice," replied the general, +haughtily. "Wait till I ask for it." + +"But, my lord, see! the Russians are reeling from the charge of the +Heavies. Now if ever--" + +"Enough, Captain Morris. My orders were to defend this position; and +here I shall stay. I was told to attack nothing unless they came +within reach. The enemy has not yet done that." + +So the chance of annihilating the Russian cavalry was lost, and the +Light Brigade thought that its chances of distinction were also gone +for the day. Alas! the hour of its trial was very close at hand. + +Lord Raglan had waited anxiously for the infantry divisions he had +ordered up. The first, under the Duke of Cambridge, was now close at +hand, and the fourth, led by Sir George Cathcart, had arrived at a +point whence it might easily have reached out a hand to recover the +redoubts. But Cathcart's advance was so leisurely that Lord Raglan +feared he would be too late to prevent the Russians from carrying off +the guns they had captured from the Turks. The enemy, it must be +understood, were showing manifest signs of despondency: their +shattered cavalry had gone rapidly to the rear, and their infantry had +halted irresolute, inclined also to retreat. + +"This is the moment to strike them," decided Lord Raglan. "They are +evidently losing heart, and we ought to get back the redoubts easily. +I will send the cavalry. They are almost on the spot, and at any rate +can get quickly over the ground. Ride, sir," to an aide-de-camp, "and +tell Lord Lucan to recover the heights. Tell him he will have +infantry, two whole divisions, in support." + +They watched the aide-de-camp deliver his message; but still Lord +Lucan, who was in supreme command of the cavalry, made no move. + +"What is he at?" cried Lord Raglan, testily. "He is very long about +it." + +"There is no time to lose, my lord," interposed the +quartermaster-general, who had been intently watching the redoubts +with his field-glasses. "I can see them bringing teams of horses into +the redoubts. They evidently mean to carry off our guns." + +The necessity for action was more than ever urgent and immediate. + +"Lord Lucan must be made to move. Here, Airey! send him a peremptory +order in writing." + +The quartermaster-general produced pencil and paper from his +sabretash, and wrote as follows:-- + +"Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, and +try to prevent the enemy from carrying away the guns. Immediate." + +"That will do," said Lord Raglan. "Let your own aide-de-camp carry the +order. He is a cavalry officer, and can explain, if required." + +It was Nolan, the enthusiastic, ardent, devoted cavalry soldier, heart +and soul, and overflowing now with joy at his mission, and the chances +of distinction it offered the cavalry. A fine, fearless horseman, he +galloped at a breakneck pace down the steep and rocky sides of the +plateau, and quickly reached Lord Lucan's side. + +The general read his orders, with lips compressed and lowering brow. + +"You come straight from Lord Raglan? But, surely, you are General +Airey's aide-de-camp?" + +"Lord Raglan himself entrusted me with the message." + +"I can't believe it. It is utterly impracticable: for any useful +purpose. Quite unequal, quite inadequate, to the risks and frightful +loss it must entail." + +The impetuous aide-de-camp showed visible signs of impatience. While +the general debated and discussed his orders, instead of executing +them with instant, unquestioning despatch, a great opportunity was +flitting quickly by. + +"Lord Raglan's orders are"--Nolan spoke with an irritation that was +disrespectful, almost insubordinate--"his lordship's orders are that +the cavalry should attack immediately." + +"Attack, sir!" replied Lord Lucan, petulantly; "attack what? What +guns?" + +"There, my lord, is your enemy," replied Nolan, with an excited wave +of his arm; "there are your guns!" + +The exact meaning of the gesture no man survived to tell, but its +direction was unhappily towards a formidable Russian battery which +closed the gorge of the north valley, and not to the heights crowned +by the captured redoubts. + +Lord Lucan, heated by the irritating language of his junior officer, +must have lost his power of discrimination, for although his first +instructions clearly indicated the guns in the redoubt, and his +second, brought by Nolan, obviously referred to the same guns, the +cavalry general was misled--by his own rage, or Nolan's sweeping +gesture, who shall say?--misled into a terrible error. + +He conceived it to be his duty to send a portion of his cavalry +against a formidable battery of Russian guns, well posted as they +were, and already sweeping the valley with a well-directed, murderous +fire. + +Of the two cavalry brigades, the Light was still fresh and untouched +by the events of the day. The Heavy Brigade, as we have seen, had +already done splendid service in routing the Russian cavalry. The turn +of the Light Brigade had come, although, unhappily, the task entrusted +to it was hopeless, foredoomed to failure from the first. + +It stood close by, proudly impatient, its brigadier, Lord Cardigan, at +its head. + +To him the divisional general imparted Lord Raglan's order. + +"You are to advance, Lord Cardigan, along the valley, and attack the +Russians at the far end," was the order he gave. + +"Certainly, sir," replied Lord Cardigan, without hesitation. "But +allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the +valley in our front, and batteries and riflemen on each flank." + +"I can't help that," said Lord Lucan; "Lord Raglan will have it so. +You have no choice but to obey." + +Lord Cardigan saluted with his sword; then, rising in his stirrups, he +turned to his men, and cried aloud in a full, firm voice-- + +"The brigade will advance!"--to certain death, he might have added, +for he knew it, although he never quailed. But, settling himself in +his saddle, as though starting on a promising run with hounds, and not +on a journey from which there was no return, he said, with splendid +resignation, as he prepared to lead the charge-- + +"Here goes for the last of the Brudenells!"[2] + +[Footnote 2: The family name of the Earls of Cardigan was Brudenell.] + +All this had passed in a few minutes, and then three lines of +dauntless horsemen--in the first line, Dragoons and Lancers; in the +second, Hussars; in the third, Hussars and more Dragoons--galloped +down the north valley on their perilous and mistaken errand. + +They were already going at full speed, when a single horseman, with +uplifted arm and excited gesture, as though addressing the brigade, +crossed their front. It was Nolan, who thus seemed to be braving the +anger of Lord Cardigan by interfering with the leadership of his men. + +What brought Nolan there? The inference is only fair and reasonable +that at the very outset he had recognised the misinterpretation of +Lord Raglan's orders, and was seeking to change the direction of the +charging horsemen, diverting them from the Russian battery towards the +redoubts, their proper goal. + +Fate decreed that this last chance of correcting the terrible error +should be denied to the Light Brigade. A Russian shell struck Nolan +full in the chest, and "tore a way to his heart." By his untimely +death the doom of the light cavalry was sealed. + +As the devoted band galloped forward to destruction, all who observed +them stood horror-stricken at the amazing folly of this mad, mistaken +charge. + +"Great heavens!" cried Lord Raglan. "Why, they will be destroyed! Go +down, Calthorpe, and you, Burghersh, and find out who is responsible +for this frightful mistake!" + +"Magnificent!" was the verdict of Bosquet, a friendly but experienced +French critic. "But it is not war." + +Not war--murder, rather, and sudden death. + +The ceaseless fire of the guns they faced wrought fearful havoc in the +ranks of the horsemen as they galloped on. Still the survivors went +forward, unappalled; but it was with sadly diminished numbers that they +reached the object of their attack. The few that got to the guns did +splendid service with their swords. The gunners were cut down as they +stood, and for the moment the battery was ours. But it was impossible to +hold it; the Light Brigade had almost ceased to exist. Presently its +shattered remnants fell slowly back, covered by the Heavies against the +pursuit of the once more audacious Russian cavalry. + +Barely half an hour had sufficed for the annihilation of nearly six +hundred soldiers, the flower of the British Light Horse. The northern +valley was like a shambles, strewn with the dead and dying, while all +about galloped riderless horses, and dismounted troopers seeking to +regain their lines on foot. Quite half of the whole force had been +struck down, among the rest Hugo Wilders, whose forehead a grape-shot +had pierced. + +The muster of regiments after such a fight was but a mournful +ceremony. When at length the now decimated line was re-formed, the +horror of the action was plainly seen. + +"It was a mad-brained trick," said Lord Cardigan, who had marvellously +escaped--"a monstrous blunder, but it was no fault of mine." + +"Never mind, my lord!" cried many gallant spirits. "We are ready to +charge again!" + +"No, no, men," replied Lord Cardigan, hastily; "you have done enough." + +It was at this moment that Lord Raglan rode up, and angrily called +Lord Cardigan to account. + +"What did you mean, sir, by attacking guns in front with cavalry, +contrary to the usages of war?" + +"You must not blame me, my lord," replied Lord Cardigan. "I only +obeyed the orders of my superior officer," and he pointed to Lord +Lucan, whom Lord Raglan then addressed with the severe reproof-- + +"You have sacrificed the Light Brigade, Lord Lucan. You should have +used more discretion." + +"I never approved of the charge," protested Lord Lucan. + +"Then you should not have allowed it to be made." + +The battle of Balaclava was practically over, and, although they had +suffered no reverse, its results were decidedly disadvantageous to the +allies. The massacre of the Light Brigade encouraged the Russian +general to advance again; his columns once more crossed the Woronzoff +road, and re-occupied the redoubts in force. The immediate result was +the narrowing of the communications between the front and the base. +The use of a great length of this Woronzoff road was forbidden, and +the British were restricted to the insufficient tracks through +Kadikoi. A principal cause this of the difficulties of supply during +the dread winter now close at hand. + +Another lesser result of the Russian advance was that McKay and his +men that afternoon were unable to rejoin their regiment by the road +they had travelled the day before. He returned to camp by a long and +circuitous route, through Kadikoi, instead of by the direct Woronzoff +road. + +It was late in the day, therefore, when he was once more at his +headquarters. He had much to tell of his strange adventures on these +two eventful days, and the colonel, who had at once sent for him, kept +him in close colloquy, plying him with questions about the battle, for +more than an hour. It was not till he had heard everything that +Colonel Blythe handed the sergeant-major a bundle of letters and +papers, arrived that morning by the English mail. + +"There is good news for you, McKay," said he. "I was so interested in +your description that I had forgotten to tell you. Let me congratulate +you; your name is in the _Gazette_," and the Colonel, taking McKay's +hand, shook it warmly. + +McKay carried off his precious bundle to his tent, and, first untying +the newspaper, hunted out the _Gazette_. + +There it was-- + +"The Royal Picts--Sergeant-Major Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay to +be Ensign, _vice_ Arrowsmith, killed in action." + +They had lost no time; the reward had followed quickly upon the +gallant deed that deserved it. Barely a month had elapsed since the +Alma, yet already he was an officer, bearing the Queen's commission, +which he had won with his own right arm. + +His letters were from home--from his darling mother, who, in simple, +loving language, poured forth her joy and pride. + +"My dearest, bravest boy," she said, "how nobly you have justified the +choice you made; you were right, and we were wrong in opposing your +earnest wish to follow in your poor father's footsteps--would that he +had lived to see this day! It was his spirit that moved you when, in +spite of us all, of your uncles' protests and my tears, you persisted +in your resolve to enlist. They said you had disgraced yourself and +us. It was cruel of them; but now they are the first to come round. I +have heard from both your uncles; they are, of course, delighted, and +beg me to give you their heartiest good wishes. Uncle Ralph said +perhaps he would write himself; but he is so overwhelmed with work at +the Munitions Office he may not have time. Uncle Barto you will, +perhaps, see out in the Crimea; he has got command of the _Burlington +Castle_, one of the steamers chartered from his Company, and is going +at once to Balaclava. + +"Oh, my sweet son be careful of yourself!" went on the fond mother, +her deep anxiety welling forth. "You are my only, only joy. I pray God +hourly that He may spare your precious life. May He have you in His +safe keeping!" + +The reading of these pleasant letters occupied Stanislas till +nightfall. Then, utterly wearied, but with a thankful, contented +heart, he threw himself upon the ground, and slept till morning. + +When he issued forth from his tent it was to receive the cordial +congratulations of his brother officers. Sergeant Hyde came up, too, a +little doubtfully, but McKay seized his hand, saying-- + +"You do not grudge me my good luck, I hope, old friend?" + +"I, sir?"--the address was formal, but the tone was full of heartfelt +emotion. "You have no heartier well-wisher than Colour-Sergeant Hyde. +Our relative positions have changed--" + +"Nothing can change them, or me, Hyde. You have always been my best +and staunchest friend. It is to your advice and teachings that I owe +all this." + +"Go on as you have begun, my boy; the road is open before you. Who +knows? That field-marshal's baton may have been in your pack after +all!" + +While they still talked a message was brought to McKay from General +Wilders; the brigadier wished to see him at once. + +"How is this, Mr. McKay?" said the general. "So you pretend to be a +cousin of mine? Sir Colin Campbell has told me of his meeting with +you, and now I find your name in full in the _Gazette_." + +"It is no pretence, sir," replied Stanislas, with dignity. + +"What! You call yourself a Wilders! By what right?" + +"My mother is first cousin to the present Lord Essendine." + +"Through whom?" + +"Her father, Anastasius Wilders." + +"I know--my father's brother. Then you belong to the elder branch. But +I never heard that he married." + +"He married Priscilla Coxon in 1805." + +"Privately?" + +"I believe not. But it was much against his father's wish, and his +wife was never recognised by the family. His widow--you know my +grandfather died early--married a second time, and thus increased the +breach between the families." + +"It's a strange story. I don't know what to think of it. These +statements of yours--can they be substantiated?" + +"Most certainly, sir, by the fullest proof. Besides, the present Lord +Essendine is quite aware of my existence, and has acknowledged my +relationship." + +"Never openly: you must admit that." + +"No, we were simple people; not grand enough, I suppose, for his +lordship. At any rate, we were too proud to be patronised, and +preferred to go our own way." + +"I acknowledge you, Mr. McKay, without hesitation, and am proud to own +so gallant a young man as my relative. You have indeed maintained the +soldierly reputation of our family. Shake hands!" + +"You are very kind, sir; I hope to continue to deserve your good +opinion," and McKay rose to take his leave. + +"Stay, Cousin McKay, I have more to say to you. What is this Sir Colin +tells me about your speaking Russian?" + +Stanislas explained. + +"It may prove extremely useful; we have not too many interpreters in +the army. I shall write to headquarters and report your +qualifications. Do you speak any other languages?" + +"French, Spanish, and a little Turkish." + +"By Jove! you ought to be on the staff; they want such men as you. Can +you sit on a horse?" + +"I have ridden bare-backed many a dozen miles across the moors at +home." + +"Faith! I will take you myself. I want an extra aide-de-camp, and my +cousin shall have the preference. I will send to Colonel Blythe at +once; be ready to join me. But how about your kit? You will want +horses, uniform, and--Forgive me, my young cousin: but how are you +off for cash? You must let me be your banker." + +McKay shook his head, gratefully. + +"Thank you, sir; but I have been supplied from home. One of my +uncles--my mother's half-brother--is well-to-do, and he sent me a +remittance on hearing of my promotion." + +"Well, well, as you please; but mind you come to me if you want +anything. I shall expect you to take up your duties to-morrow." They +were interrupted by all the bugles in the brigade sounding the +assembly. "What is it? The alarm?" + +"I can hear file-firing, sir, from the front." + +"An attack, evidently. Hurry back to your camp; the regiment will be +turned out by the time you get there!" + +As McKay left the general's tent he met Captain Powys. + +"The outposts have been driven in on Shell Hill and the enemy is +advancing in force," said the aide-decamp. "We shall have another +battle, I expect. It is our turn to-day." + +This was Colonel Fedeoroff's forlorn hope against our extreme right: +the sequel to Balaclava, the prelude of Inkerman--a sharp fight while +it lasted, but promptly repulsed by our men. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE GOLDEN HORN. + + +Since the English and French armies had established themselves in the +Crimea and the magnitude of their undertaking grew more and more apparent, +they had found their true base of operations at Constantinople. Here were +collected vast masses of supplies and stores, waiting to be forwarded to +the front; here the reinforcements--horse, foot, and guns--paused ere they +joined their respective armies; here hospitals, extensive, but still +ill-organised and incomplete, received the sick and wounded sent back from +the Crimea; here also lingered, crowding the tortuous streets of Mussulman +Stamboul and filling to overflowing the French-like suburb of Pera, a +strange medley of people, a motley crew of various faiths and many +nationalities, polyglot in tongue and curiously different in attire, drawn +together by such various motives as duty, mere curiosity, self-interest, +and greed. Jews, infidels, and Turks were met at every corner: the first +engaged in every occupation that could help them to make money, from +touting at the bazaars to undertaking large contracts and selling bottled +beer; the second, representatives going or coming from the forces now +devoted to upholding the Crescent; the third, mostly apathetic, +self-indulgent, corpulent old Mussulmans riding in state, accompanied by +their pipe-bearers, or sitting half-asleep in coffee-houses or at the doors +of their shops. Now and again a bevy of Turkish ladies glided by: mere +peripatetic bundles of white linen, closely-veiled and yellow-slippered; or +a Greek in his white petticoat, fierce in aspect and armed to the teeth; or +an Armenian merchant, Arnauts, Bashi-Bazouks, French Spahis, the Bedouins +of the desert, but half-disguised as civilised troops, while occasionally +there appeared, amidst the heterogeneous throng, the plain suit of grey +dittoes worn by the travelling Englishman, or the more or less simple +female costumes that hailed from London or Paris. + +Misseri's hotel did a roaring trade. It was crowded from roof-tree to +cellar. Rooms cost a fabulous price. Mrs. Wilders managed to be very +comfortably lodged there notwithstanding. + +She still lingered in Constantinople. Her anxiety for her husband +forbade her to leave the East, although she told her friends it was +misery for her to be separated from her infant boy. She might have +had a passage home in a dozen different steamers returning empty, all +of them in search of fresh freights of men or material; or there was +Lord Lydstone's yacht still lying in the Golden Horn and ready to take +her anywhere if only she said the word. But that, of course, was out +of the question, as she had laughingly told her husband's cousin more +than once when he had placed the _Arcadia_ at her disposal. + +They met sometimes, but never on board the yacht, for that would have +outraged Mrs. Wilders's nice sense of propriety. It was generally at +Scutari, where poor young Anastasius Wilders lay hovering between life +and death, for Mrs. Wilders, with cousinly kindliness, came frequently +to the wounded lad's bedside. + +She was bound for the other side of the Bosphorus as she went +downstairs one fine morning towards the end of October, dressed, as +usual, to perfection. + +A man met her as she crossed the threshold, a man dressed like, and +with the air of, an Englishman--a pale-faced, sandy-haired man, with +white eyebrows, rather prominent cheek-bones, and a retreating chin. + +"Good morning, my dear madam." He spoke with just the faintest accent, +betraying that English was not his native tongue. "Like a good Sister, +going to the hospital again?" + +Mrs. Wilders bowed, and, with heightened colour, sought to pass +hastily on. + +"What! not one word for so old a friend?" He spoke now in +French--perfect Parisian French. + +"I wish you would not address me in public: you know you promised me +that," replied Mrs. Wilders, in a tone of much vexation, tinged with +the respect that is born of fear. + +"Forgive me, madam, if I have presumed. But I thought you would wish +to hear the news." + +"News! Of what?" + +"Another battle, a fierce, terrible fight, in which, thank Heaven! the +English have suffered defeat!" He spoke with an exultation that proved +him to be a traitor, or no Englishman. + +"A battle? The English defeated?" + +"Yes; thank Heaven, beaten, massacred, disastrously defeated! It is +only the beginning of the end. We shall hear soon of far worse. The +Czar is gathering together all his strength; what can the puny forces +of the allies do against him? They will be outnumbered thousands to +one--annihilated before they can escape to their ships." + +"Pshaw! What do I care! Whether they are driven away from the Crimea, +or remain, is much the same to me. But, after all, this is mere talk; +you can't terrify me by such vapourings." + +"I tell you I know this for a fact. The Russian forces in the Crimea +have been continually reinforced for weeks past. I know it; I saw +them. I was there, in their midst, not many days ago. Besides, I am +behind the scenes, deep in their counsels. Rely upon it, the allies +are in imminent danger. You will hear soon of another and far greater +fight, after which it will be all over with your friends!" + +"Well, well! my friends, as you call them, must look to themselves. +Still, this is mere talk of what may be. Tell me what has actually +occurred. There has been a battle: are many slain? General Wilders--is +he safe?" + +"You need have no apprehensions for your dear husband, madam; his +command was not engaged. The chief brunt of the fight fell upon the +cavalry, who were cut to pieces." + +"What of young Wilders? Hugo Wilders, I mean--Lord Lydstone's +brother." + +"His name is returned amongst the killed. It will be a blow for the +noble house of Essendine, and not the only one." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The other brother, young Anastasius, whom you are going to see, +cannot survive, I hear." + +"Poor young fellows!" said Mrs. Wilders, with a well-assumed show of +feeling. + +"You pity them? I honour your sentiments, madam; but, nevertheless, +they can be spared, especially by you." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, quickly. + +"I mean that after they are gone only one obstacle intervenes between +you and all the Essendine wealth. If Lord Lydstone were out of the +way, the title and its possession would come, perhaps, to your +husband, certainly to your son." + +"Silence! Do not put thoughts into my head. You must be the very +fiend, I think." + +"I know you, Cyprienne, and every move of your mind. We are such old +friends, you see," he said, with a sneering, cynical smile. "And now, +as before, I offer you my help." + +"Devil! Do not tempt me!" + +He laughed--a cold, cruel, truculent laugh. + +"I know you, I repeat, and am ready to serve you as before. Come, or +send, if you want me. I am living here in this hotel; Mr. Hobson they +call me--Mr. Joseph Hobson, of London. My number is 73. Shall I hear +from you?" + +"No, no! I will not listen to you. Let me go!" And Mrs. Wilders, +breaking away from him, hurried down the street. + +It was not a long walk to the waterside. There she took a caique, or +local boat, with two rowers in red fezzes, and was conveyed across the +Bosphorus to the Asiatic side. + +Landing at Scutari, Mrs. Wilders went straight to the great palace, +which was now a hospital, and treading its long passages with the +facility of one who had travelled the road before, she presently +found herself in a spacious, lofty chamber filled with truckle-beds, +and converted now into a hospital-ward. + +"How is he?" she asked, going up at once to a sergeant who acted as +superintendent and head nurse. + +"Mr. Wilders, ma'am?" replied the sergeant, with a shake of the head. + +"No improvement?" + +"Far worse, ma'am, poor young chap! He died this morning, soon after +daylight." + +"And my lord--was his brother present?" + +"Lord Lydstone watched with him through the night, and was here by the +bedside when he died." + +"Where is he now? Lord Lydstone, I mean." + +"He went back on board his yacht, ma'am, I think. He said he should +like a little sleep. But he is to be here again this afternoon, for +the funeral." + +"So soon?" + +"Oh, yes! ma'am. It must take place at once, the doctors say." + +Mrs. Wilders left the hospital, hesitating greatly what she should do. +She would have liked to see and speak with Lydstone, but she had +enough good feeling not to intrude by following him on board the +yacht. + +Then she resolved to attend the funeral too. It would show her +sympathy, and Lord Lydstone would be bound to notice her. + +He did see her, and came up after the ceremony to shake her hand. + +"I am so sorry for you," she began. + +"It is too terrible!" he exclaimed. "Both in one day." + +He had heard of Balaclava, then. + +"But I can't talk about it to-day. I will call on you to-morrow, if I +may, in the morning. I am going back to England almost at once." + +He came next day, and she received him in her little sitting-room at +Misseri's. + +"You know how I feel for you," she said, giving him both her hands, +her fine eyes full of tears. "They were such splendid young fellows, +too. It is so sad--so very sad." + +"I am very grateful for your sympathy. But we will not talk about +them, please," interrupted Lord Lydstone. + +"You have my warmest and most affectionate sympathy. Is there anything +I can do to console you, to prove to you how deeply, how sincerely, I +feel for you?" + +Her voice faltered, and she seemed on the point of breaking down. + +"What news have you of the general?" asked Lord Lydstone, rather +abruptly, as though to change the conversation. + +"Good enough. He is all right," said Mrs. Wilders, dismissing inquiry +for her husband in these few brusque words. + +"I can't think of him just now," she went on. "It is you and your +great sorrow that fill all my heart. Oh, Lydstone! dear Lord Lydstone, +the pity of it!" + +This tender commiseration was very captivating. But the low, sweet +voice seemed to have lost its charm. + +"I think I told you yesterday, Mrs. Wilders, that I intended to return +to England," said Lord Lydstone, in a cold, hard voice. + +"Yes; when do you start?" + +"To-morrow, I think. Have you any commands?" + +"You do not offer me a passage home?" + +"Well, you see, I am travelling post haste," he answered. "I shall +only go in the yacht as far as Trieste, and then on overland. I fear +that would not suit you?" + +"I should be perfectly satisfied"--she was not to be put off--"with +any route, provided I go with you." + +"You are very kind, Mrs. Wilders," he said, more stiffly, but visibly +embarrassed. "I think, however, that as I shall travel day and night I +had better--" + +"In other words, you decline the pleasure of my company," she said, in +a voice of much pique. + +It was very plain that she had no longer any influence over him. + +"But why are you in such a desperate hurry, Lord Lydstone?" she went +on. + +"I have had letters, urging me to hurry home. My father and mother are +most anxious to see me; and now, after what has happened, it is right +that I should be at their side." + +"You are a good son, Lord Lydstone," she said, but there was the +slightest sneer concealed beneath her simple words. + +"I have not been what I ought, but now that I am the only one left I +feel that I must defer to my dear parents' wishes in every respect." +He said this with marked emphasis. + +"They have views for you, I presume?" Mrs. Wilders asked, catching +quickly at his meaning. + +"My mother has always wanted me to settle down in life, and my father +has urged me--" + +"To marry. I understand. It is time, they think, for you to have sown +your wild oats?" + +"Precisely. I have liked my freedom, I confess. Now there are the +strongest reasons why I should marry." + +"To secure the succession, I suppose." + +"We have surely a right to look to that!" said Lord Lydstone, rather +haughtily. + +"Oh! of course. Everyone is bound to look after his own. And the +young lady--has she been found?" + +Lord Lydstone coloured at this point-blank question. + +"I have been long paying my addresses to Lady Grizel Banquo," he said. + +"Oh! she is your choice? I have often seen her and you together." + +"We have been friends almost from childhood; and it seems quite +natural--" + +"That you should tie yourself for life to a red-headed, raw-boned +Scotch girl." + +"To an English lady of my own rank in life," interrupted Lord +Lydstone, sternly, "who will make me an honest, faithful helpmate, as +I have every reason to hope and believe." + +"You are just cut out for domestic felicity, Lord Lydstone. I can see +you a staid, sober English peer, a pattern of respectability, the stay +and support of your country, obeyed with reverent devotion by a fond +wife, bringing up a large family--" + +"As young people should be brought up, I hope--the girls as modest, +God-fearing maidens; the boys to behave like gentlemen, and to tell +the truth." + +"A very admirable system of education, I'm sure. By-and-bye we shall +see how nearly you have achieved your aim." + +She was disappointed and bitterly angry, feeling that he had rebuffed +and flouted her. + +"We part as friends, I hope?" said Lord Lydstone, rising to go. + +"Oh, certainly! why not?" she answered carelessly. + +"I trust you will continue to get good news from Cousin Bill." + +"And I that you will have a speedy voyage home. It would be provoking +to be delayed when bound on such a mission." + +Then they parted, never to meet again. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE. + + +The mixed population of Constantinople in these busy, stirring times +was ripe for any great surprise. It was much moved and excited by a +startling bit of news that spread very rapidly next day. + +An atrocious murder had been committed on the Stamboul side, near the +Bridge of Boats. + +Certainly, murders were not unknown in this hive of complex life, +harbouring as it did the very scum and refuse of European rascality. +But the victims were mostly vile, nameless vagabonds, low Greeks, +Maltese suttlers, Italian sailors, or one or other of the hybrid +mongrel ruffians following in the track of our armies, any of whom +might be sent to their long account without being greatly missed. + +It was otherwise now: the murdered man was a prominent personage, an +Englishman of high rank, a rich and powerful representative of a great +people. No wonder that Constantinople was agitated and disturbed. + +On this occasion Lord Lydstone was the murdered man. + +He had been found at daybreak by the Turkish patrol, lying in a +doorway just where he had fallen dead, stabbed to the heart. + +The body was taken to the nearest guard, and inquiries were +instituted. A card-case found on the body led to identification, and a +report made to the British Embassy set in motion the law and justice +of the peace. + +Nothing satisfactory or conclusive was brought to light. No one could +account for his lordship's presence in that, the lowest quarter of the +city; the only clue to his movements was furnished by his steward and +body-servant on board the yacht. + +The valet came on shore and gave his evidence before the informal +court, which was dealing with the case at the British Embassy, +presided over by the _attaches_. + +"When did you see his lordship last?" + +"Last night. My lord dined on board alone. He appeared depressed, and +altogether low. He told me he should go to bed early." + +"And did he?" + +"No. Late in the evening a shore-boat came off--one of those caiques, +I think they called them--with a letter, very urgent." + +"For Lord Lydstone?" + +"For his lordship. He seemed much disturbed on reading it." + +"Well?" + +"My lord called me and said he would dress to go on shore. I gave him +out the suit which he was wearing when the body was found." + +"He said nothing about the letter, or its contents?" + +"Oh, no! My lord was never given to talking much, although I was his +confidential valet since he left college. He never spoke to me of his +affairs. My lord always kept his distance, as it was proper he +should." + +"Could you tell at all what became of this letter?" + +"My lord put it in his pocket when he was dressed." + +"You are certain of this?" + +"Most positive." + +"Was any such letter found in the pockets of the deceased?" asked the +_attache_ of the Turkish police, through the dragoman of the Embassy. + +Nothing of the kind had been found. + +"The letter was no doubt removed purposely. This would destroy all +trace of its origin. It was evidently a snare, a bait to lure the +poor lord on shore," said one _attache_ to another. + +"It is curious that he should have been so ready to swallow it." + +"There must have been something peculiarly persuasive in the letter." + +"But we have heard that he was much distressed, or annoyed, at +receiving it." + +"Persuasive in a good or bad sense--probably the latter. At any rate, +it was sufficient to lure him on shore." + +"Of course there is something beneath all this: some intrigue, +perhaps." + +"The old story, 'who is she?' I suppose." + +"But I thought he was devoted to his cousin, the fair Mrs. Wilders." + +"Is she still in Constantinople?" + +"Yes, I think so. Still at Misseri's, I believe." + +"I wonder whether she has yet heard about this horrible affair. Some +one ought to break it to her." + +But no one was needed for a task from which all shrank, with not +unnatural hesitation. While they still talked, a message was brought +in to the effect that Mrs. Wilders was in the antechamber, and her +first words, when one of the _attaches_ joined her, plainly showed +that she had heard of Lord Lydstone's death. + +"What a horrible, frightful business!" she said, in a voice broken +with emotion. "Oh! this wicked, accursed town! How did it happen? Do +tell me all you know." + +"We are completely in the dark. We know nothing more than that Lord +Lydstone was found stabbed at daylight this morning in the streets of +Stamboul." + +"What could have taken him there?" + +The _attache_ shrugged his shoulders. + +"There is nothing to show, except that he was inveigled by some +mysterious communication--a letter sent on board the yacht." + +"Inveigled for some base purpose--robbery, perhaps?" + +"Very probably. When the body was found, it had been rifled of +everything--watch, money, rings: everything had gone." + +Mrs. Wilders sighed deeply. It might have been a sigh of relief, but +to the _attache_ it seemed a new symptom of horror. + +"But how imprudent--how frightfully imprudent--of the poor dear lord +to venture alone, and so late at night, into that vile quarter. What +could have tempted him?" + +"That's what we are all asking. Some unusually powerful motive must +have influenced him, we may be sure, and that I hope we may still +ascertain. It will be the first step towards detecting the authors of +the crime." + +"They will be discovered, you think?" + +"No efforts will be spared, you may be sure. The means at our disposal +are not very first-rate, perhaps, but we have been promised the +fullest help by the Turkish Minister of Police, and we shall leave no +stone unturned." + +"Oh! I do so hope that the villains will be discovered. Is there +anything I can do?" + +"Hardly, Mrs. Wilders. But, as you are the only representative of the +family, it would be well perhaps for you to go on board the yacht. +Poor Lord Lydstone's papers and effects should be sealed up. One of us +will accompany you." + +"I shall be delighted to be of any use. When shall we start?" + +"The sooner the better," said the _attache_, Mr. Loftus by name; and, +leaving the inquiry, the two took boat, and were presently alongside +the _Arcadia_. + +They were received by the captain, a fine specimen of a west-country +sailor, a hardy seaman, well schooled in his profession, who had long +commanded a vessel in the Mediterranean trade, and was thus well +qualified to act as sailing-master in the _Arcadia's_ present cruise. + +But Captain Trejago was soft-hearted, easily led, especially by any +daughter of Eve, and he had long since succumbed to the fascinations +of Mrs. Wilders's charms. From the day she first trod the deck of the +yacht he had become her humblest, perhaps, but most devoted, admirer +and slave. + +They exchanged a few words of sympathy and condolence. + +"You have lost a good friend, Captain Trejago," said the lady. + +"He was that, ma'am. My lord was one of the finest, noblest men that +ever trod in shoe-leather. And you, ma'am--it must be very terrible +for you." + +"Losing him in such a way, it is that which embitters my grief. But +this gentleman"--she turned to Mr. Loftus--"comes from the Embassy to +seal up his lordship's papers." + +"Quite right, ma'am. That ought to be done without delay." + +"We can go down into the cabin, then?" said Mrs. Wilders. + +"Why! surely, ma'am, you ought to know the way. Mr. Hemmings"--this +was the valet--"is not on board, as you know: but I will send the +second steward if you want any help." + +Assisted by the steward, Mr. Loftus proceeded in a business-like +manner to place the seals of the Embassy upon the desk, drawers, and +other receptacles in Lord Lydstone's cabin. While they were thus +employed, Mrs. Wilders sat at the cabin-table under the skylight, her +head resting on one hand, and in an attitude that indicated the +prostration of great sorrow. The other hand was on the table, +fingering idly the various objects that strewed it. There were an +inkstand, a pen-tray, a seal, a blotting-book or portfolio, and many +other odds and ends. + +This blotting-book, with the same listless, aimless action, Mrs. +Wilders presently turned to, and turned over the leaves one by one. + +Between two of them she came upon a letter, left there by accident, or +to be answered perhaps that day. + +The feminine instinct of curiosity Mrs. Wilders possessed in no common +degree. To look at the letter thus exposed, however unworthy the +action, was a temptation such a woman could not resist. She began to +read it, almost as a matter of course, but carelessly, and with no set +purpose, as though it was little likely to contain matter that would +interest her. But after the first few lines its perusal deeply +absorbed her. A few lines more, and she closed the book, leaving her +hand inside, and looked round the cabin. + +Mr. Loftus and his assistants were still busily engaged upon their +official task. Neither of them was paying the slightest attention to +her. + +With the hand still concealed inside the blotter, she folded up this +missive which seemed so interesting and important, and, having thus +got it into a small compass, easily and quickly transferred it to her +pocket. + +She looked anxiously round, fearing she might have been observed. But +no one had noticed her, and presently, when Mr. Loftus had completed +his work, they again left the yacht for the shore. + +So soon as Mrs. Wilders regained the privacy of her own room at +Misseri's, which was not till late in the day, she took out the letter +she had laid hands on in the cabin of the yacht, and read it through +slowly and carefully. + +It was from Lord Lydstone's father, dated at Essendine Towers, the +principal family-seat. + +"My dear boy," so it ran, "your mother and I are very grateful to you +for your very full and deeply interesting letter, with its ample, but +most distressing, account of our dear Anastasius. It is a proud, but +melancholy, satisfaction to know that he has maintained the traditions +of the family, and bled, like many a Wilders before him, for his +country's cause. His condition must, however, be a constant and trying +anxiety, and I beseech you, more particularly on your mother's +account, to keep us speedily informed of his progress. It is some +consolation to think that you are by his side, and it is only right +that you should remain at Constantinople so long as your brother is in +any danger. + +"But do not, my dear boy, linger long in the East. We want you back +with us at home. This is your proper place--you who are our eldest +born, heir to the title and estates--you should be here at my side. +There are other urgent reasons why you should return. You know how +anxious we are that you should marry and settle in life. We are doubly +so now. Your brothers before this hateful war broke out made the +succession, humanly speaking, almost secure. But the chances of a +campaign are unhappily most uncertain. Anastasius has been struck +down; we may lose him, which Heaven forbid; a Russian bullet may rob +us any day of dear Hugo too. In such a dire and grievous calamity, you +alone--only one single, precious life--would remain to keep the title +in our line. Do not, I beseech you, suffer it to continue thus. Come +home; marry, my son; give us another generation of descendants, and +assure the succession. + +"I have never made any secret of my wishes in this respect; but I have +never told you the real reasons for my deep anxiety. It was my +father's earnest hope--he inherited it from his father, as I have from +mine--that the title might never be suffered to pass to his brother +Anastasius's heirs. My uncle had married in direct opposition to his +father's orders, in an age when filial disobedience was deemed a very +heinous offence, and he was cut off with a shilling. I might say that +he deserved no better; but he did not long survive to bear the penalty +of his fault. He left a child--a daughter, however--to whom I would +willingly have lent a helping hand, but she spurned all my overtures +in a way that grieved me greatly, although I never openly complained. +That branch of the family has continued estranged from us; and I am +certainly indisposed to reopen communications with them. + +"Yet the existence of that branch cannot be ignored. It might, at any +time, through any series of mishaps of a kind I hardly like to +contemplate, but, nevertheless, quite possible in this world of +cross-purposes and sudden surprises, become of paramount importance in +the family; for in point of seniority it stands next to ourselves. The +next heir to the title, after you and your brothers, is the grandson +of Anastasius Wilders, a lad of whom I know nothing, except that he is +quite unfitted to assume the dignity of an Earl of Essendine, should +fate ever will it that he should succeed. This unfitness you will +readily appreciate when I tell you that he is at present a private +soldier in a marching-regiment in the East. Stranger still, this +regiment is the same as that in which poor Anastasius is serving--the +Royal Picts. The young man's name is McKay--Stanislas Anastasius +Wilders McKay. I have never seen him; but I am satisfied of his +existence, and of the absolute validity of his claims. My agents have +long had their eye on him, and through them I have full information of +his movements and disposition. He appears a decent, good sort of +youth. But I feel satisfied that we ought, as far as is possible by +human endeavour, to prevent his becoming the head of the family. + +"You are now in possession of the whole of the facts, my dear +Lydstone, and I need scarcely insist upon the way in which you are +affected by them. You will not hesitate, I am sure, after reading +this letter, to return to England the moment you can leave your poor +brother." + +There was more in the letter, but it dealt with purely business +matters, which did not interest the person who had become +clandestinely possessed of it. + +To say that Mrs. Wilders read this letter with surprise would +inadequately express its effect upon her. She was altogether taken +aback, dismayed, horror-stricken at its contents. + +Now, when chance, or something worse, had cleared the way towards the +great end, after which she had always eagerly, but almost hopelessly, +hankered, a new and entirely unexpected obstacle suddenly supervened. + +Another life was thrust in between her and the proximate enjoyment of +high rank and great wealth. + +Who was this interloper--this McKay--this private soldier serving in +the ranks of the Royal Picts? What sort of man? What were his +prospects--his age? Was it likely that he would stand permanently in +her way? + +These were facts which she must speedily ascertain. The regiment to +which he belonged was in the Crimea, part of her uncle's brigade. +Surely through him she might discover all she wanted to know. But how +could this be best accomplished? + +The more she thought over it, the more convinced she was that she +ought to go in person to the Crimea, to prosecute her inquiries on the +spot. While still doubtful as to the best means of reaching the +theatre of war, it occurred to her that she could not do better than +make use of Lord Lydstone's yacht. + +It would have to go home eventually--to be paid off and disposed of by +Lord Lydstone's heirs. But there was surely no immediate hurry for +this, and Mrs. Wilders thought she had sufficient influence with +Captain Trejago to persuade him, not only to postpone his departure, +but to take a trip to the Crimea. + +In this she was perfectly successful, and the day after Lord +Lydstone's funeral the _Arcadia_, with a fine breeze aft, steered +northward across the Black Sea. + +It reached Balaclava on the morning of the 5th of November, and Mrs. +Wilders immediately despatched a messenger on shore to inform the +general of her arrival. That day, however, the general and his brigade +were very busily employed. It was the day of Inkerman! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"HARD POUNDING." + + +Mr. Hobson, as he called himself, had been perfectly right when he +gleefully assured Mrs. Wilders that the Russians were gathering up +their strength for a supreme effort against the allies. Reinforcements +had been steadily pouring into the Crimea for weeks past--two of the +Czar's sons had arrived to stir up the enthusiasm of the soldiers. +Menschikoff, who still commanded, counted confidently upon inflicting +exemplary chastisement upon the invaders. He looked for nothing less, +according to an intercepted despatch, than the destruction or capture +of the whole allied army. + +No doubt the enemy had now an overwhelming superiority in numbers. The +total land forces under Prince Menschikoff's command, including the +garrison of Sebastopol, were 120,000 strong. Those numbers included a +large body of cavalry and a formidable field artillery. + +The entire allied army was barely half that strength. It was called +upon, moreover, to occupy an immense front--a front which extended +from the sea at Kamiesch to the Tchernaya, and from the Tchernaya, by +a long and circuitous route, back to the sea at Balaclava. This line, +offensive as regards the siege-works, but defensive along the unduly +extended and exposed right flank at Balaclava, was close on twenty +miles. The great length of front made severe demands upon the allied +troops; it could only be manned by dangerously splitting up their +whole strength into many weak units, none of which could be very +easily or rapidly reinforced by the rest. + +Perhaps the weakest part of the whole line was the extreme right, held +at this moment by the British Second Division. Here, on an exposed and +vitally important flank, the whole available force was barely 3,000 +men. For some time past it had been intended to fortify this flank by +field-works, armed with heavy artillery. But, although the necessity +for protecting it was thus admitted, the urgency was not exactly +understood, or at least was subordinated to other operations; as a +matter of fact, this flank was "in the air," to use a military phrase, +lying quite open and exposed, with only an insufficient, greatly +harassed garrison on the spot, and no supports or reserves near at +hand. + +The utmost assistance on which this small body could count, as was +afterwards shown, under stress, too, of most imminent danger, was +14,000 men. Not that all these numbers were fully available at any one +time; they were constantly affected and diminished by casualties in +the height and heat of the action; so that never were there more than +13,000, French and English, actually engaged. + +On the other hand, the Russian attacking force was 70,000 strong, and +they had with them 235 guns. + +It was in truth another battle of giants, like Waterloo. "Hard +pounding," as the great duke said of that other fight; a fierce trial +of strength; a protracted, seemingly unequal, struggle between the +dead weight of the aggregate many and the individual prowess of the +undaunted, indomitable few. + +The enemy's plan of action had been minutely and carefully prepared. +We know it now. He meant to use his whole strength along his entire +front--in part with feigned and deceiving demonstrations to "contain" +or hold inactive the troops that faced him, in part with determined +onslaught, delivered with countless thousands, in massive columns, +against the reputed weakest point of our line. + +This plan Menschikoff hastened to put into execution. Time pressed: +the enemy had learnt through spies that an assault on Sebastopol was +close at hand. Besides, the Grand Dukes had arrived, and the troops, +worked up to the highest pitch of loyal fanatic fervour, were mad to +fight under the eyes of the sons of their father, the holy Czar. + +Dawn broke late on that drear November morning: November the 5th--a +day destined to be ever memorable in the annals of British arms: a +dawn that was delayed and darkened by dense, driving mists, and +rain-clouds, black and lowering. + +Nothing, however, had broken the repose of the British camp, or hinted +at the near approach of countless foes. + +The night had been tranquil; the enemy quiet; only, in the valley +beneath our pickets on the Inkerman heights, some sentries had heard +the constant rumbling of wheels, but their officers to whom they +reported did not interpret the same aright, as the movement of +artillery. + +An hour or more before daylight the church-bells of Sebastopol rang +out a joyous peal. Why not? It was the Sabbath morning. But these +chimes, alas! ushered in a Sunday of struggle and bloodshed, not of +peaceful devotion and prayer. + +The outlying pickets had been relieved, and were marching campwards; +the Second Division had had its customary "daylight parade"; the men +had stood to their arms for half-an-hour, and, as nothing was +stirring, had been dismissed to their tents; the fatigue-parties had +been despatched for rations, water, fuel--in a word, the ordinary +daily duties of the camp had commenced, when the sharp rattle of +musketry rang out angrily, and well sustained in the direction of our +foremost picket on Shell Hill. + +"That means mischief!" The speaker was General Codrington, who, +according to invariable rule, had ridden out before daylight to +reconnoitre and watch the enemy. "Halt the off-going pickets; we may +want all the men we can lay hands on." + +Then this prompt and judicious commander proceeded to line the +Victoria ridge, which faced Mount Inkerman, with the troops he had +thus impounded, and galloped off to put the rest of his brigade under +arms. + +The firing reached and roused another energetic general officer, +Pennefather, who now commanded the Second Division in place of De Lacy +Evans. + +"Sound the assembly!" he cried. "Let the division stand to its arms. +Every man must turn out: every mother's son of them. We shall be +engaged hot and strong in less than half-an-hour." + +As pugnacious as any terrier, Pennefather, with unerring instinct, +smelt the coming fight. + +His division was quickly formed on what was afterwards called the +"Home Ridge," and which was its regular parade-ground. But the general +had no idea of awaiting attack in this position. It was his plan +rather to push forward and fight the enemy wherever he could be found. +With this idea he sent a portion of his strength down the slope to +"feed the pickets," as he himself called it, whilst another was +advanced to the right front under General Wilders, and with this body +went the Royal Picts. The Second Division benefited greatly by this +advance, for the Russians were now absolute masters of the crest of +the Inkerman hill, where they established their batteries, and poured +forth volley after volley, all of which passed harmlessly over the +heads of our men. Meanwhile the alarm spread. A continuous firing, +momentarily increasing in vigour, showed that this was no affair of +outposts, but the beginning of a great battle. The bulk of the allied +forces were under arms, and notice of the attack had been despatched +to Lord Raglan at the English headquarters. + +In less than a quarter-of-an-hour, long before 7 a.m., Lord Raglan was +in his saddle, ready to ride wherever he might be required most. + +But whither should he go? The battle, as it seemed, was waging all +around him, on every side of the allied position. A vigorous fire was +kept up from Sebastopol; down in the Tchernaya valley the army, +supposed to be still under Liprandi, but really commanded by +Gortschakoff, had advanced towards the Woronzoff road, and threatened +to repeat the tactics of Balaclava by attacking with still greater +force the right rear of our position; last of all, around Mount +Inkerman, the unceasing sound of musketry and big guns betrayed the +development of a serious attack. + +Lord Raglan was not long in doubt. He knew the weakest point of the +British position, and rightly guessed that the enemy would know it +too. + +"I shall go to Inkerman," he said. "That is their real point, I feel +sure. And we must have up all the reinforcements we can muster. You, +Burghersh, tell Sir George Cathcart to move up his division and +support Pennefather and Brown. You, Steele, beg General Bosquet to +lend me all the men he can spare." + +Pennefather had his hands full by the time Lord Raglan arrived. With a +paltry 3,000 odd men he was confronting 25,000; but, happily, the +morning was so dark and the brushwood so thick that his men were +hardly conscious that they were thus outnumbered. + +Not that they would have greatly cared; they were manifestly animated +with a dogged determination to deny the enemy every inch of the +ground, and with unflagging courage they disputed his advance, +although they were so few. Once more it was the "Thin Red Line" +against the heavy column: hundreds against thousands, a task which for +any other troops would have been both hopeless and absurd. + +But Pennefather's people stoutly held their own. On his left front, +one wing of the 49th Regiment routed a whole Russian column, and drove +it back at the point of the bayonet down the hill; to give way in +turn, but not till it was threatened by 9,000 men. Next, four +companies of the Connaught Rangers stoutly engaged twenty times their +number, and only yielded after a stubborn fight. General Buller came +up next, with a wing of the 77th, which was faced by a solid mass five +times as strong. + +"There are the Russians," cried Egerton, who commanded the 77th. "What +shall we do, general?" + +"Charge them!" was Buller's prompt reply. + +The next instant the slender line, with a joyous hurrah, was engulfed +in a giant column. The effect was instantaneous. The Russian column +reeled before the fiery charge, wavered, then broke and fled. + +More to the right, Mauleverer prolonged the line with the 30th, and +gave so good an account of the Russians in his front that they, too, +fell back in disorder; and Bellairs, with a party of the 49th, was +equally triumphant. + +Beyond these forces, General Wilders, with whom young McKay now rode +as extra aide, led a fraction of his brigade, including the Royal +Picts, against the Sandbag Battery, a point deemed important because +it commanded the extreme right of the position. + +On the far sides of the slopes, beyond the battery were 4,000 Russian +troops, and the mere sight of Wilders with his deployed line sufficed +to shake the steadiness of the foe. The Russian bugles sounded a +retreat, the leading companies faced about, and, communicating the +panic to those behind the hill, the whole mass gave way and ran down +the slope, followed by a destructive fire from the British line. + +Thus ended the first phase of this unequal contest. Pennefather had +triumphed to an extent of which neither he nor his heroes were fully +aware. Barely 1,200 men had routed 15,000! The few had achieved a +decisive victory over the many. + +But the struggle had only just begun. Many more and still severer +trials awaited our starving, weary, sorely-beset soldiers that day. + +The enemy had numberless fresh and still untried troops at hand. +Column after column had been moving steadily forward, some from the +town, some from the eastern side of the Tchernaya, and already the +Russian generals were in a position to renew the fight. A new +onslaught was now organised, to be made by 19,000 men under cover of +ninety guns. + +So far in those early days of the battle the brunt of it had fallen +upon the Second Division, supported by a portion of the Light. Stout +old General Pennefather had had the supreme control throughout. + +"I will not interfere with you," Lord Raglan said, as, standing by his +staff, he watched the progress of the fight from the ridge. "You know +your ground, as you have occupied it so long with your camp. I'm sure +I can trust you." + +"Thank you, my lord. I'll do my best, never fear," replied +Pennefather. + +"Their artillery fire is very troublesome, and must be over-mastered. +If I could only get up some of the siege-train guns to help you. Let +some one go back to the artillery park, and tell them I want a couple +of eighteen pounders." + +An aide-de-camp at once galloped off with the order, but two or three +eventful hours elapsed before these guns were brought to bear upon the +action. + +Pennefather's men, although for the moment triumphant, had their hands +full. They showed an undaunted front or "knotted line" of +fighting-men: the remnants of the pickets, fragments, and +odds-and-ends of many regiments, mixed up and intermingled, still in +contact with the enemy, and so far still without supports. + +Officers came back rather despondingly to ask for help. + +"I cannot send you a single man," was the firm reply to one applicant. +"You must stand your ground somehow." + +"We should be all right, sir, but the men have run out of ammunition." + +"It's no use. I can't give you a round. What does it matter? Don't +make difficulties. Stick to your bayonets. And remember you've got to +hold on where you are, or we shall be driven into the sea." + +The want of cartridges was what the troops felt most direly. They +growled savagely and grumbled at the mismanagement that kept back +these indispensable supplies. + +Only here and there the energetic action of a few shrewd officers did +something to mend the mischief. + +Thus the Royal Picts benefited by the astute promptitude of +long-headed Sergeant Hyde. He was acting as quartermaster, and as such +had been left behind in camp, although sorely against his will, when +the rest of the regiment went out to fight. But he had heard the long, +well-sustained roll of musketry-fire, and it satisfied one not new to +war that a very close contest had begun. + +"They'll soon fire away their cartridges at this rate," he said to +himself. "If I could only get the ammunition-reserves up to them! I'll +do it." And on his own responsibility he laid hands on all the beasts +in camp: spare chargers, officers' ponies, and other animals, and +quickly loaded them with the cartridge-boxes. Then, leading the +cavalcade, he hurried to the front, asking as he went for the Royal +Picts. + +He found his regiment in the Sandbag Battery, and they received him, +so soon as his errand was known, with a wild cheer. + +"Excellently done!" cried Colonel Blythe. "You have a good head on +your shoulders, Hyde: ammunition was the one thing we needed." + +"Yes," shouted a brawny soldier, "we were just killed for want of +cartridges." + +"And want of food," grumbled another; "sorra bite nor sup since +yesterday." + +"Sergeant darling," said a third, "won't you sound the +breakfast-bugle? Fighting on an empty stomach is but a poor pastime." + +Thus, in the interval between two combats, but always under a galling +and destructive fire, they joked and bandied words with a freedom that +discipline would not have tolerated at any other time. + +"I think, colonel, I could bring up the rations: biscuits and cold +pork, anyhow," suggested Hyde. + +"And the grog-tub: don't forget that, sergeant" cried a fresh voice. + +"By all means, Hyde, get us what you can," replied Blythe; "the men +are all fasting, and some sort of a meal would be very good for them, +only you must keep a sharp look-out for us. We may not be still here +when you return." + +This Sandbag Battery, which for the moment the Royal Picts still held, +was the object of ceaseless contention that day. Although at best but +an empty prize, useful to neither side, because its parapet was too +high to be fired over, the battery was lost and won, captured and +recaptured, constantly during the battle. + +Even now the Russians, regaining heart, had made it the first aim of +their fresh attack. + +General Dannenberg, who was now in chief command, had a twofold +object: he was resolved to press the centre of the English position +and at the same time vigorously attack the right, throwing all his +weight first upon the Sandbag Battery. + +The small force under General Wilders, which included the Royal Picts, +soon began to feel the stress of this renewed onslaught. + +"They are coming on again and in great numbers, sir," said McKay to +his general. + +"I see, and menacing both our flanks. We shall be surrounded and +swallowed up if we don't take care." + +"Some support ought to be near by this time, sir," replied McKay. + +"Ride back, and see. I don't want to be outflanked." + +McKay retired and presently came upon two battalions of Guards, +Grenadiers and Fusiliers, advancing under the command of the Duke of +Cambridge. + +"General Wilders, sir, is very hard pressed in the Sandbag Battery," +said McKay, briefly. + +"I'll march at once to his aid," replied the duke, promptly. + +"Sir George Cathcart and part of the Fourth Division are coming up, +and not far off," added one of the staff; "we won't wait for any one. +Ride on ahead, sir,"--this was to McKay,--"and let your general know +he is about to be supported by her Majesty's Guards." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A COSTLY VICTORY. + + +Now followed one of the fiercest and bloodiest episodes of the day. + +Wilders had made the best show with his little band and clung +tenaciously to the battery yet. The Russians came on and on, with +stubborn insistence, and all along the line a hand-to-hand fight +ensued. Numbers told at length, and the small garrison was slowly +forced back, after enduring serious loss. + +It was in this retreat that General Wilders received a dangerous +wound: a fragment of a shell tore away the left leg below the knee. + +"Will some one kindly lift me from my horse?" he said quietly, +schooling his face to continue calm, in spite of the agony he +endured. + +McKay was on the ground in an instant and by his general's side. + +"Don't mind me, my boy" said the general. "Leave me with the doctors." + +"On no account, sir; I should not think of it." "Yes, yes. They want +every man. Attach yourself to Blythe; he will command the brigade now. +Do not stay with me: I insist." + +McKay yielded to the general's entreaties, but first saw the wounded +man bestowed in a litter and carried to the rear. + +Then he joined Colonel Blythe. + +But now fortune smiled again. Our artillery had stayed the Russian +advance; and the Grenadier Guards, followed by the Fusiliers, once +more regained the coveted but worthless stronghold. + +They could not hold it permanently, however: the tide of battle ebbed +and flowed across it, and the victory leant alternately to either +side. The Guards fought like giants, outnumbered but never outmatched, +wielding their weapons with murderous prowess, and, when iron missiles +failed them, hurling rocks--Titan-like--at their foes. + +Even when won this Sandbag Battery was a perilous prize: tempting the +English leaders to adventure too far to the front and to leave a great +gap in the general line of defence unoccupied and undefended. + +Lord Raglan saw the error and would have skilfully averted the +impending evil. + +"That opening leaves the left of the Guards exposed," he said to +Airey. "Tell Cathcart to fill it." + +"You are to move to the left and support the Guards," was the message +conveyed to Cathcart, "but not to descend or leave the plateau. Those +are Lord Raglan's orders." + +But Sir George chose to interpret them his own way, and already--with +Torrens's brigade and a weak body at best--he had gone down the hill +to join the Guards. In the sharp but misdirected encounter which +followed, the general lost his life, and his force, with the Guards, +were for a time cut off from their friends. + +A Russian column had wedged in at the gap and for a time forbade +retreat, but it was at length sheered off by the first of the French +reinforcements; and the intercepted British, in greatly diminished +numbers, by degrees won their way home. + +This fighting around the Sandbag Battery had cost us very dear: +Cathcart was killed, the Guards were decimated, and Wilders's brigade, +now commanded by Colonel Blythe, had fallen back, spent and +disorganised. So serious indeed were these losses that for the next +hour the brigade possessed no coherent shape, and only by dint of the +unwearied exertions of its officers was it rallied sufficiently to +share in the later phases of the fight. + +Meanwhile the centre of our line, where Pennefather stood posted on +the Home Ridge, had been furiously assailed. Gathering their forces +under shelter of a deep ravine, the Russian general sent up column +after column, first against the left and then against the right of the +Ridge. Gravely weakened by his early encounter, Pennefather had only a +handful of his own men to meet this attack. They were now pressed back +indeed, although their general was beginning to wield detachments from +other commands. A portion of the Fourth Division had been put under +his orders. + +General Cathcart, just before his death, had come to him with a +battalion of the Rifle Brigade. + +"They can do anything," he had said. "Where are they wanted most?" + +"Everywhere!" had been old Pennefather's reply. + +But now, having at hand this splendid body of infantry, of whom their +leader had been so pardonably proud, he hurled them at the flank of a +column that was forcing back its own men. + +The effect of the charge was instantaneous: the Russians could not +withstand it; and, the men of the Second Division again advancing, the +foe was pressed as far as the Barrier, where he was held at bay. + +But the left of the ridge was still menaced, although the centre was +cleared. On this flank Pennefather disposed of some new troops, also +of the Fourth Division: the 63rd and part of the 21st. + +He rode up to their head and made them a short but stirring address. + +"Now, Sixty-third, let's see what metal you are made of! The enemy is +close upon you: directly you see them, fire a volley and charge!" + +His answer was a vehement cheer. The 63rd fired as it was ordered, and +then drove the Russians down the hill. + +One more trial awaited Pennefather at this period of the battle. His +right, on the Home Ridge, was now assailed; but here again the 20th, +with their famous Minden yell--an old historical war-cry, always +cherished and secretly practised in the corps--met and overcame the +enemy. They were actively supported by the 57th, the gallant +"Diehards," a title they had earned at Albuera, one of the bloodiest +of the Peninsular fights. + +Thus, for the second time, Pennefather stood victorious on the ground +he so obstinately held. After two hours of incessant fighting the +Russians had made no headway. But although twice repulsed they had +inflicted terrible losses on our people. They had still in hand +substantial supports untouched; they had brought up more and more +guns; they were as yet far from despondent, and their generals might +still count upon making an impression by sheer weight of numbers +alone. + +As for ourselves, the English were almost at the end of their +resources. There were no fresh troops to bring up; only the Third +Division remained in reserve, and it was fully occupied in guarding +the trenches. + +The French, it is true, could have thrown the weight of many +thousands into the scale; but General Canrobert had not set his more +distant divisions in motion, and the only troops that could affect the +struggle--Bosquet's--were still far to the rear. + +In the contest that was now to be renewed the balance between the +offensive forces was more than ever unequal. + +Dannenberg gathered together upon the northern slopes of Mount +Inkerman some 17,000 men, partly those who had been already defeated, +but were by no means disheartened, and partly perfectly fresh troops. +On the other hand, Pennefather's force was reduced to a little over +3,000, to which a couple of French regiments might now be added, 1,600 +strong. The Russians had a hundred guns in position; the allies barely +half that number. + +Yet in the struggle that was imminent the battle of Inkerman was +practically to be decided. + +The Russian general had now resolved to make a concentrated attack in +column upon Pennefather's Ridge. He sent up another great mass from +the quarry ravine, flanked and covered by crowds of skirmishers. In +the centre, the vanguard pressed forward swiftly, drove back the +slender garrison of the Barrier, and advanced unchecked towards the +Ridge. There were no English troops to oppose their advance; a French +battalion only was close at hand, and they seemed to shrink from the +task of opposing the foe. + +"They do not seem very firm, these Frenchmen," said Lord Raglan, who +was closely watching events. "Why, gracious goodness, they are giving +way! We must strengthen them by some of our own men. Bring up the +55th--they have re-formed, I see. Stay! what is that?" + +As he spoke, an English staff officer was seen to ride up to the +wavering French battalion. From his raised hand and impassioned +gestures he was evidently addressing them. He was speaking in French, +too, it was clear, for his harangue had the effect of restoring +confidence in the shaken body. The battalion no longer stood +irresolute, but advanced to meet the foe. + +"Excellently done!" cried Lord Raglan. "Find out for me at once who +that staff-officer is." + +An aide-de-camp galloped quickly to the spot, and returned with the +answer-- + +"Mr. McKay, my lord, aide-de-camp to General Wilders." + +"Remember that name, Airey, and see after the young fellow. But where +is his general?" + +"Wounded, and gone to the rear, my lord," was the reply. + +The bold demeanour of the French battalion restrained the advancing +enemy until some British troops could reach the threatened point. Then +together they met the advance. The Russian attack was now fully +developed, and his great column was well up the slopes of the ridge. +While the French, animated by the warm language of Pennefather, +stopped its head, a mad charge delivered by a small portion of the +55th broke into its flank. + +The Russians halted, hesitating under this unexpected attack. +Pennefather instantly saw the check, and gave voice to a loud +"hurrah." The cry was taken up by his men, and the French drums came +to the front and sounded the _pas de charge_. With a wild burst of +enthusiasm, the allies, intermingled, raced forward, and once again +the foe was driven down the hill. At the same time his flanking +columns were met and forced back on the left by the 21st and the 63rd. + +The Barrier was again re-occupied by our troops, and the third, the +chief and most destructive Russian onslaught, had also failed. + +The day was still young; it was little past 9 a.m., and the battle as +yet was neither lost nor won. + +The Russians had been three times discomfited and driven back, but +they still held the ground they had first seized upon the crests of +the Inkerman hill, and, seemingly, defied the allies to dislodge them. + +The English were far too weak to do this. Our whole efforts were +concentrated upon keeping the enemy at bay at the Barrier, where +Blythe, now in chief command, managed with difficulty, and with a very +mixed force, to beat off assailants still pertinacious and tormenting. + +The French were now coming up in support, but of their troops already +on the ground two battalions had gone astray, wandering off on a +fool's errand towards the pernicious Sandbag Battery, where they, too, +were destined to meet repulse. + +Indeed, the Russians, despite their last discomfiture, were regaining +the ascendant. + +But now the sagacious forethought of Lord Raglan was to bear +astonishing fruit. It has been told in the previous chapter how he was +bent upon bringing up some of the siege-train guns, and how he had +despatched a messenger for them. His aide-de-camp had found the +colonel of the siege-park artillery anticipating the order. Two +18-pounders, which since Balaclava had been kept ready for instant +service, were waiting to be moved. There were no teams of horses at +hand to drag them up to the front, but the man-harness was brought +out, and the willing gunners cheerily entered the shafts, and threw +themselves with fierce energy into the collars. Officers willingly +lent a hand, and thus the much-needed ordnance was got up a long and +toilsome incline. + +It was a slow job, however, and two full hours elapsed before they +were placed in position on the right flank of the Home Ridge. + +"At last!" was Lord Raglan's greeting; "now, my lads, load and fire as +fast as you can." + +The artillery officers themselves laid their guns, which were served +and fired with promptitude and precision. + +Now followed a short but sanguinary duel. The Russian guns answered +shot for shot, and at first worked terrible havoc in our ranks. + +Colonel Gambier of the artillery was struck down: other officers were +wounded, and many of the men. + +Still Lord Raglan stood his ground, watching the action with keen +interest and the most admirable self-possession. He was perfectly +unmoved by the heavy fire and the carnage it occasioned. + +One or two of his staff besought him to move a little further to the +rear, but he met the suggestion with good-natured contempt. + +"My lord rather likes being under fire than otherwise," whispered one +aide-de-camp to another. + +He certainly took it uncommonly cool, and in the thick of it could +unbend with kindly condescension when a sergeant who was passing had +his forage-cap knocked off by the wind of a passing shot. + +"A near thing that, my man," he said, smiling. + +The sergeant--it was Hyde, returning from the Barrier, where he had +been with more ammunition--coolly dusted his cap on his knee, replaced +it on his head, and then, formally saluting the Commander-in-Chief, +replied with a self-possession that delighted Lord Raglan-- + +"A miss is as good as a mile, my lord." + +Through all this the 18-pounders kept up a ceaseless and effective +fire. They were clearly of a heavier calibre than any the Russians +owned, and soon the weight of their metal and our gunners' unerring +aim began to tell upon the enemy's ranks. + +The Russian guns were frequently shifted from spot to spot, but they +could not escape the murderous fire. + +At last, in truth, the Russian hold on Inkerman hill was shaken to the +core. + +Victory at last was in our grasp, and, but for the old and fatal +drawback of insufficient numbers, the battle must have ended in a +complete disaster for the Russian arms. A vigorous offensive, +undertaken by fresh troops, must have ended in the speedy overthrow, +possibly annihilation, of the enemy. + +But the only troops available for the purpose were the French. Bosquet +had now come up with his brigade, and D'Autemarre, released by +Gortschakoff's retreat, had followed with a second. There were thus +some seven or eight thousand French available. Still Canrobert was +disinclined to move. + +He was now with Lord Raglan on the Ridge, with his arm in a sling, for +he had just been struck by a shrapnel-shell. + +He was downcast and dejected, for Bosquet had gone off on a wild-goose +chase after two errant battalions, and had shared in their repulse. +Just now, indeed, so far from proving the saviours of the hard-pressed +English, our French allies were themselves in retreat. + +Lord Raglan strove to reassure his colleague. + +"All is going well, my general," he said; "we are winning the day." + +"I wish I could think so," replied Canrobert. + +"Well, but listen to the message my aide-de-camp has brought from +General Pennefather. What did he say, Calthorpe?" + +"General Pennefather, my lord, says he only wants a few fresh troops +to follow the enemy up now, and lick them to the devil. These are his +very words, my lord." + +Lord Raglan laughed heartily, and translated his stout-hearted +lieutenant's language literally for Canrobert. + +"Ah! what a brave man!" cried the French general, lighting up. "A +splendid general, a most valiant man." + +"You see now, general; one more effort and the day is ours. Won't you +help?" + +"But, my lord, what can I do? The Russians are all round us still, and +in great strength. See there, there, and there," he cried, pointing +with his unwounded arm. + +"Tell General Pennefather to come and speak to me at once," Lord +Raglan now said to the aide-de-camp, hoping that the gallant bearing +of the victorious veteran would infuse fresh hope in Canrobert. + +Now General Pennefather galloped up, as radiantly happy as any +schoolboy who has just finished his fifteenth round. + +"I should like to press them, my lord. They are retreating already, +and we could give a fine account of them." + +"What have you left to pursue with?" asked Lord Raglan, still hoping +to encourage the French to undertake the offensive. + +"Seven or eight hundred now, in the first brigade alone." + +"To pursue thousands!" exclaimed Canrobert, when this was interpreted +to him; "you must be mad! I will have nothing to do with this; we have +done enough for one day." + +Now again, as on the Alma, when the heights had been carried by storm, +the fruits of victory were lost by our unenterprising, over-cautious +allies. + +This, indeed, is the true story of Inkerman, as told on incontestable +evidence of the great historian of the war. The French did not rescue +the English from disaster; they were themselves repulsed. At the close +of the action, when they might have actively pursued, their +irresolution robbed the victory of its most decisive results. + +It was a terrible and far too costly victory, after all. The English +army, already terribly weak, suffered such serious losses in the fight +that there were those who would have at once re-embarked the remnants +and raised the siege. Retreat on the morrow of victory would have been +craven indeed, but to stand firm with such shattered forces was a bold +and hazardous resolve, for which Lord Raglan deserves the fullest +credit, and the coming winter, with its terrible trials, was destined +to put his self-reliance to the proof. + +It is time to return more particularly to our friends, who took part +in this hard-fought, glorious action. + +By midday the worse part of the battle was over, and although Colonel +Blythe still clung to his Barrier, whence he launched forth small +parties to harass the retreating foe, McKay was released of his +attendance upon the acting brigadier, and suffered to follow his own +general to the rear. + +They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital +marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp +found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side. + +McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief. + +"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager +interest. + +"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line." + +"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow. + +"How are you, sir?" + +"Very weak. My fighting days are done." + +"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round. +Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face. + +"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet, +and--" + +"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be +close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the +tent. + +Outside the surgeon ended the sentence he had left incomplete. + +"The general," he said, "will be in no immediate danger if we could +count upon his having proper care. With that, I think we could promise +to save his life." + +"He shall have the most devoted attention from me," began McKay. + +"We know that. But he wants more: the very best hospital treatment, +with all its comforts and appliances; and how can we possibly secure +these here on this bleak plateau?" + +Just then one of the general's orderlies came in sight and approached +McKay. + +"A letter, sir, for the general, marked 'Immediate.'" + +"The general can attend to no correspondence. You know he has been +desperately wounded." + +"Yes, sir, but the messenger would not take that for an answer." + +"Who is he?" + +"A seaman from Balaclava, belonging to some yacht that has just +arrived." + +"Lord Lydstone's perhaps. That would indeed be fortunate," went on +McKay, turning to the doctor. "It is the general's cousin, you know; +and on board the yacht--if we could get him there?" + +"That is not impossible, I think. In fact, it would have to be done." + +"Well, on board the yacht he would get the careful nursing you speak +of. Is he well enough, do you think, to read this letter?" + +"Under the circumstances, yes. Give it me, and I will take it in to +the general." + +A few minutes later McKay was again called in to the marquee. + +"Oh, McKay, I wish you would be so good--" began the wounded man. +"This letter, I mean, is from Mrs. Wilders; she has just arrived." + +"Here, in the Crimea, sir?" + +"Yes, she has come up in Lord Lydstone's yacht, and I want you to be +so good as to go to her and break the news." He pointed sadly down the +bed towards his shattered limb. + +"Of course, sir, as soon as I can order out a fresh horse I will go to +Balaclava. Perhaps I had better stay on board for a time, and make +arrangements to receive you; if Lord Lydstone will allow me, that is +to say." + +"Lord Lydstone is not there. Mrs. Wilders tells me she has come up +alone, and in the very nick of time. But now be off, McKay, and lose +no time. Be gentle with her: it will be a great shock, I am afraid." + +The aide-de-camp galloped off on his errand, and finding a boat from +the yacht waiting by the wharf in Balaclava harbour he put up his +horse and went off to the _Arcadia_. She was still lying outside. + +McKay's appearance was not exactly presentable. He had been turned out +at daybreak with the rest of the division at the first alarm, and had +had no time to attend to his toilette, such as it was in these rough +campaigning days. Since then he had been in his saddle for several +hours and constantly in the heat and turmoil of the fight. His clothes +were torn, mud-encrusted, and bloodstained; his face was black and +grimy with gunpowder smoke. + +But he had no thought of his looks as he sprang on to the white, +trimly-kept deck of the yacht. + +Captain Trejago met him. + +"Who are you?" asked the sailing-master, rather abruptly. + +"I wish to see Mrs. Wilders," replied McKay, still more curtly. + +"You had better wash your face first," said Captain Trejago, very +jealous of the proper respect due to Mrs. Wilders. "It is uncommonly +dirty." + +"And so would yours be if you had been doing what I have." + +"What might that be?" + +"Fighting." + +"Perhaps you are ready to begin again? If so, I'm your man. But you +will have to wait till we get on shore." + +"Pshaw! don't be an idiot. We have been engaged with the Russians ever +since daybreak. But there, this is mere waste of breath. I tell you I +want to see Mrs. Wilders. I come from the general. I am his +aide-de-camp. Show the way, will you?" + +"It may be as you say," muttered Trejago, not half satisfied. "But you +will have to wait till Mrs. Wilders says she will receive you." + +"What's the matter? Who is this person?" + +It was the voice of Mrs. Wilders, who now advanced from the stern of +the yacht, having seen but not overheard the latter part of the +altercation. + +McKay stepped forward. + +"I have brought you a message from the general." + +"Why did he not come himself?" + +"It was quite impossible." + +"I particularly begged him to come. Who, pray, are you? Stay!" she +went on, "I ought to know your face. We have met before: at Gibraltar, +was it not?" + +"Yes, at Gibraltar. I was the general's orderly sergeant." + +"And do you still hold the same distinguished position?" + +"No, Mrs. Wilders," said McKay, simply; "I am now a commissioned +officer, and have the honour to be the general's aide-de-camp." + +"Rapid promotion that: I hope you deserved it. May I ask your name?" + +"McKay--Stanislas McKay." + +Could it be possible? The very man she was in search of the first to +speak to her on arrival here at Balaclava! Surely there must be some +mistake! Mastering her emotion at the suddenness of this news, she +said-- + +"You will forgive my curiosity, but have you any other Christian +names?" + +"My name in full is Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"That answer is my best excuse for asking you the question. You are, +then, our cousin?" + +McKay bowed. + +"I have heard of you," said Mrs. Wilders. "Allow me to congratulate +you," and she held out her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A NOVEMBER GALE. + + +"Will you not come down into the cabin?" said Mrs. Wilders, civilly; +"the lunch is still on the table, and I daresay you will be glad of +something to eat." + +"I have not touched food all day, Mrs. Wilders." + +"You must have been very busy, then?" + +"Surely you have heard what has happened this morning?" + +Mrs. Wilders looked at him amazed. + +"A desperate battle has been fought." + +"Another!" She thought of what Mr. Hobson had told her. "How has it +ended? In whose favour? Are we safe here?" + +"There is no cause for alarm. The Russians have been handsomely beaten +again; but we have suffered considerable loss," he said, hesitating a +little, fearing to be too brusque with his bad news. + +"Is that why the general could not come?" + +"Exactly. He has had a great deal to do." + +"Nothing should have prevented him from coming here." + +It never seemed to have occurred to her that he had been in any +danger; nor, as McKay noticed, had she asked whether he was safe and +well. + +"It was quite impossible for him to come. He--he--" + +"Pray go on! You are very tantalising." + +"The general has been badly wounded," McKay now blurted out abruptly. + +"Dear! dear!" she said, rather coolly. "I am very sorry to hear it. +When and how did it occur?" + +McKay explained. + +"Poor dear!" This was the first word of sympathy she had spoken, and +even now she made no offer to go to him. + +"The doctors think there is no great danger if--" + +"Danger!" This seemed to rouse her. "I trust not." + +"No danger," went on McKay, "if only he can be properly nursed. They +were glad to hear of the arrival of the yacht, and think he ought to +be moved on board." + +"Oh, of course this will be the best place for him. When can he be +brought? I suppose I ought to go to him. Will it be possible to get a +conveyance to the front?" + +"Nothing but an ambulance, I fear. And you know there is no road." + +"Upon my word I hardly know what to say." + +"We could manage a saddle-horse for you, I daresay." + +"I'm a very poor horsewoman: you see I'm half a foreigner. No; the +best plan will be to stay on board and get everything ready for the +poor dear man. When may we expect him?" + +"The doctors seem to wish the removal might not be delayed. You may +see us in the morning." + +"So, then, I am to have the pleasure of meeting you again, Mr. McKay?" + +"I should be sorry to leave the general while I can be of any use. He +has been a kind friend to me." + +"And you are a relation. Of course it is very natural you should wish +to be at his side. I am sure I shall be delighted to have your +assistance in nursing him," said Mrs. Wilders, very graciously; and +soon afterwards McKay took his leave. + +"So that is the last stumbling-block in my son's way: a sturdy, +self-reliant sort of gentleman, likely to be able to take care of +himself. I should like to get him into my power: but how, I wonder, +how?" + +Next day they moved the wounded general to Balaclava, and got him +safely on board the _Arcadia_. He was accompanied by a doctor and +McKay. + +Mrs. Wilders received her husband with the tenderest solicitude. + +"How truly fortunate I came here!" she said, with the tears in her +eyes. + +"Lydstone made no objection, then? Has he remained at Constantinople?" +the general asked, feebly. + +"Lydstone? Don't you know? He--" But why should she tell him? It +would only distress him greatly, and, in his present precarious +condition, he should be spared all kind of emotion. With this idea she +had begged Captain Trejago to say nothing as yet of the sad end of his +noble owner. + +"Will it not be best to get the general down to Scutari?" she asked +the doctor. + +"In a day or two, yes. When he has recovered the shaking of the move +on board." + +"The captain wanted to know. He has no wish to go inside the harbour, +as it is so crowded; but he would not like to remain long off this +coast. It might be dangerous, he says." + +"A lee-shore, you know," added Captain Trejago, for himself. "Look at +those straight cliffs; fancy our grinding on to them, with a +southerly, or rather a south-westerly, gale!" + +"Is there any immediate prospect of bad weather?" asked McKay. He and +the sailing-master were by this time pretty good friends. + +"I don't much like the look of the glass. It's rather jumpy; if +anything, inclined to go back." + +"What should you do if it came on dirty?" the skipper was asked. + +"Up stick, and run out to get an offing. It would be our only chance, +with this coast to leeward." + +Three or four days later the skipper came with a long face to the +doctor. + +"I like the look of it less and less. The glass has dropped suddenly: +such a drop as I've never seen out of the tropics. Is there anything +against our putting to sea this afternoon?" + +It so happened that General Wilders was not quite so well. + +"I'd rather you waited a day or two," replied the surgeon. "It might +make all the difference to the patient." + +"Well, if it must be," replied the captain, very discontentedly. + +"It's his life that's in question." + +"Against all of ours. But let it be so. We'll try and weather the +storm." + +Next morning, about dawn, it burst upon them--the memorable hurricane +of the 14th November, which did such appalling damage on shore and at +sea. Not a tent remained standing on the plateau. The tornado swept +the whole surface clean. + +At sea the sight as daylight grew stronger was enough to make the +stoutest heart, ignorant landsman's or practised seaman's, quail. A +whole fleet--great line-of-battle ships, a crowd of transports under +sail and steam--lay at the mercy of the gale, which increased every +moment in force and fury. The waves rose with the wind, and the white +foam of "stupendous" breakers angrily lashed the rock-bound shore. + +"Will you ride it out?" asked McKay of the captain, as the two stood +with the doctor crouched under the gunwale of the yacht and holding on +to the shrouds. + +"Why shouldn't we?" replied Trejago, shortly, as though the question +was an insult to himself and his ship. + +"That's more than some can say!" cried the doctor, pointing to one +great ship, the ill-fated _Prince_, which had evidently dragged her +anchors and was drifting perilously towards the cliffs. + +"Our tackle is sound and the holding is good," said Trejago, +hopefully. "But we ought not to speak so loud. It may alarm Mrs. +Wilders." + +"Does she not know our danger? Some one ought to tell her. You had +better go, McKay." + +The aide-de-camp made rather a wry face. He was not fond of Mrs. +Wilders, whose manner, sometimes oily, sometimes supercilious, was too +changeable to please him, and he felt that the woman was not true. + +However, he went down to the cabin, where he found Mrs. Wilders, with +a white, scared face, cowering in a corner as she listened to the +howling of the storm. + +"Is there anything the matter?" she cried, springing up as he +appeared. "Is there any danger?" + +"I trust not; still, it is well to be prepared." + +"For what? Do you mean that we may be lost, drowned--here, in sight of +port--all of us--my dear general and myself? It is too dreadful! Why +does not the captain run inside the harbour and put us on dry ground?" + +"I fear it would be too great a risk to try and make the mouth of the +harbour in this gale." + +"Then why don't you seek help from some of the other ships--the +men-of-war? There are plenty of them all around." + +"Every ship outside Balaclava is in the same stress as ourselves. They +could spare us no help, even if we asked for it." + +"What, then, are we to do?--in Heaven's name!" + +"Trust in Providence and hope for the best! But I think--if I might +suggest--it would be as well to keep the general in ignorance of our +condition, which is not so very desperate after all." + +"How do you mean?" + +"'Our cables are stout,' Captain Trejago says, and we ought to be able +to ride out the storm." + +And the _Arcadia_ did so gallantly all that day, in the teeth of the +hurricane, which blew with unabated fury for many more hours, and in +spite of the tempest-torn sea, which now ran mountains high. + +All through that anxious day Trejago kept the deck, watching the sky +and the storm. It was late in the afternoon when he said, with a sigh +of relief-- + +"The wind is hauling round to the westward; I expect the gale will +abate before long." + +He was right, although to eyes less keen there was small comfort yet +in the signs of the weather. + +It was an awful scene--ships everywhere in distress: some on the point +of foundering, others being dashed to pieces on the rocks. The great +waves, as they raged past in fearful haste, bore upon their foaming +crests great masses of wreck, the dread vestiges of terrible +disasters. Amongst the floating timbers and spars, encumbered with +tangles of cordage, floated great bundles of hay, the lost cargo of +heavily-laden transports that had gone down. + +Still, as Trejago said, there was hope at last. The gale had spent its +chief force and was no longer directly on shore. The more pressing and +immediate danger was over. + +"It won't do to stop here, though," he went on, "not one second longer +than we can help. Now that there is a slant in the wind we can run +south under a close-reefed trysail and storm-jib. What say you, +doctor?" + +"I'll step down and see the general." + +"Don't lose any time. I should like to slip my cable this next +half-hour. I shan't be happy till we've got sea-room." + +McKay went below with the doctor, and, while the latter sat with his +patient, the aide-de-camp had a short talk with Mrs. Wilders. + +"The captain wants to put to sea." + +"Never! not in this storm!" + +"It is abating fast. Besides, he says it will be far safer to be +running snug under storm-canvas than remaining here on this wild +coast." + +"I hope he will do no such thing. It will be madness. I must speak to +him at once." + +She seized a shawl, and, throwing it over her head, ran up on deck. + +McKay followed her and was by her side before she had left the +companion-ladder. + +"Take care, pray. There is a heavy sea on still and the deck is very +slippery. I will call Captain Trejago if you will wait here." + +"One moment; do not leave me, Mr. McKay. What an exciting, +extraordinary scene! But how terrible!" + +The yacht rode the waves gallantly: now on their crest, now in the +trough between two giant rollers, and always wet with spray. Fragments +of wreck still came racing by, borne swiftly by the waters and adding +greatly to the horrors of the dread story they told. + +"There must have been immense loss among the shipping," said McKay. +"It is a mercy and a marvel how we escaped." + +"The poor things! To be lost--cast away on this cruel, inhospitable +land. How very, very sad!" + +"It is safer, you see, to leave this dangerous anchorage. Do you still +want the captain? He is busy there forward." + +For the moment everyone was forward: they were all intent on the +straining cables and the muddle of gear that would have to be cleared +or cut away when they got up sail. + +So Mrs. Wilders and McKay stood at the cabin companion +alone--absolutely alone--with the raging elements, the whistling wind +still three parts of a gale, and the cruel, driving sea. + +"Shall I fetch the captain?" McKay repeated. + +"No, no! Don't disturb him; no doubt he is right. I will go below +again. This is no place for me." She took one long, last survey of the +really terrifying scene, but then, quite suddenly, there burst from +her an exclamation of horror. + +"There! there! Mr. McKay, look: on that piece of timber--a figure, +surely--some poor shipwrecked soul! Don't you see?" + +McKay, shading his eyes, gazed intently. + +"No. I can make nothing out," he said at length, shaking his head. + +"How strange! I can distinguish the figure quite plainly. But never +mind, Mr. McKay; only do something. Give him some help. Try to save +him. Throw him a rope." + +McKay obediently seized a coil of rope, and, approaching the gunwale, +said, quickly-- + +"Only you must show me where to throw." + +"There, towards that mast; it's coming close alongside." + +In her eagerness she had followed him, and was close behind as he +gathered up the rope in a coil to cast it. + +Once, twice, thrice, he whirled it round his head, then threw it with +so vigorous an action that his body bent over and his balance was +lost. + +He might have regained it, but at this supreme moment a distinct and +unmistakeable push in the back from his companion completed his +discomfiture. + +He clutched wildly at the shrouds with one hand--the other still held +the rope; but fruitlessly, and in an instant he fell down--far down +into the vortex of the seething, swirling sea. + +"Ah, traitress!" he cried, as he sank, fully conscious, as it seemed, +of the foul part she had played. + +Had she really wished to drown him? Her conduct after he had +disappeared bore out this conclusion. + +One hasty glance around satisfied her that McKay's fall had been +unobserved. If she gave the alarm at once he might still be saved. + +"Not yet!" she hissed between her teeth. "In five minutes it will be +too late to help him. The waters have closed over him--let him go +down, to the very bottom of the sea." + +But she was wise in her fiendish wickedness, and knew that as they had +been seen last together she must account for McKay's disappearance. At +the end of an interval long enough to make rescue impossible she +startled the whole yacht with her screams. + +"Help! Help! Mr. McKay! He has fallen overboard!" + +They came rushing aft to where she stood once more holding on to the +top of the companion, and plied her with questions. + +"There! there! make haste!" she cried--"for Heaven's sake make haste!" + +"A boat could hardly live in this sea," said Captain Trejago, gravely. +"Still, we must make the attempt. Who will go with me?" he asked, and +volunteers soon sprang to his side. + +It was a service of immense danger, but the boat was lowered, and for +more than half-an-hour made such diligent search as was possible in +the weather and in the sea. + +After that time the boat was brought back to the yacht by its brave +but disappointed crew. + +"No chance for the poor chap," said Captain Trejago, shaking his head +despondingly in reply to Mrs. Wilders's mute but eager appeal. + +Soon afterwards they got up the anchor, and the yacht sped southward +under a few rags of sail. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +UNCLE AND NEPHEW. + + +It will be well to relieve at once the anxiety which the reader must +feel--unless I have altogether failed to interest him--in the fate of +my hero, Stanislas McKay. + +He was not drowned when, through the fiendish intervention of Mrs. +Wilders, he fell from the deck of the _Arcadia_, and was, as it +seemed, swallowed up in the all-devouring sea. + +He went under, it is true, but only for a moment, and, coming once +more to the surface, by a few strong strokes swam to a drifting spar. +To this he clung desperately, hoping against hope that he might yet be +picked up from the yacht. Unhappily for him, the waves ran so high +that the boat under Trejago's guidance failed to catch sight of him, +and, as we know, returned presently to the _Arcadia_, after a +fruitless errand, as was thought. + +Very shortly the yacht and the half-submerged man parted company. The +former was steered for the open sea; the latter drifted and tossed +helplessly to and fro, growing hourly weaker and more and more +benumbed, but always hanging on with convulsive tenacity to the +friendly timber that buoyed him up, and was his last frail chance of +life. + +All night long he was in the water, and when day dawned it seemed all +over with him, so overpowering was his despair. Consciousness had +quite abandoned him, and he was almost at the last gasp when he was +seen and picked up by a passing steamship, the _Burlington Castle_. + +"Where am I?" he asked, faintly, on coming to himself. He was in a +snug cot, in a small but cosy cabin. + +"Where you'd never have been but for the smartness of our look-out +man," said a steward at his bedside. "Cast away, I suppose, in the +gale?" + +"No: washed overboard," replied McKay, "last evening." + +"Thunder! and in the water all those hours! But what was your craft? +Who and what are you?" + +"I was on board the yacht _Arcadia_. My name is Stanislas McKay. I am +an officer of the Royal Picts--aide-de-camp to General Wilders. Where +am I?" he repeated. + +"You'll learn that fast enough; with friends, anyhow. Doctor said you +weren't to talk. But just drink this, while I tell the captain you've +come to. He hasn't had sight of you yet; we hauled you aboard while it +was his watch below." + +Five minutes more and the captain, a jolly English tar, red in face +and round in figure, came down, with a loud voice and cheering manner, +to welcome his treasure-trove. + +"Well, my hearty, so this is how I find you, eh? Soused in brine. Why, +I hear they had to hang you up by the heels to let the water run out +of your mouth. Come, Stanny, my boy, this won't do." + +"Uncle Barto!" + +"The same: master of the steamship _Burlington Castle_, deep in +deals--timbers for huts--and other sundries, now lying in Balaclava, +waiting to be discharged. But, my dearest lad, you've had a narrow +squeak. Tell me, how did it happen, and when?" + +"I fell overboard, and I've been all night in the water: that's all." + +He did not choose as yet to make public his suspicions as to the real +origin of his nearly fatal accident. + +"I always said you had nine lives, Stanny, only don't go using them up +like this. There's not a tom-cat could stand it." + +"Were you out in the gale, uncle?" + +"Ay; and weathered it. At dawn, after the first puff, I knew we'd have +a twister, so I got up steam and regularly worked against it. Made a +good offing that way, and when the storm abated came back here. We +were close in when we picked you up on a log." + +"It was a providential escape," said Stanislas, thankfully. "I thought +it was all over with me." + +"We'll set you up in no time, never fear. But tell more about +yourself. Jove! you are a fine chap, Stanny. Why, you'll die a general +yet, if the Russians 'll let you off a little longer, and you're not +wanted for the House of Peers." + +"What do you mean, uncle?" + +"Why, of course, you haven't heard. There's trouble among your fine +relations. Lord Essendine has lost all his sons." + +"All?" + +"Yes; all. Hugo was killed, as you know; Anastasius died at Scutari; +and Lord Lydstone, two days later, was found dead in the streets of +Stamboul." + +"Dead? How? What did he die of, uncle?" + +"A stab in the heart. He was murdered." + +"And I--" + +He understood now the cause of the foul blow struck at him, and the +base attempt to get him also out of the way. + +"You are now next heir to the peerage, in spite of all they may say. +But you'll find my lord civil enough soon. He'll be wanting you to go +straight home." + +"And leave the army? Not while there's fighting to be done, Uncle +Barto. I may not be much good as I am, but I'll do all I can, trust +me. I ought to be getting on shore and back to the front." + +"My doctor will have a word to say to that. He won't let you be moved +till you're well and strong." + +But on the second day McKay, thanks to kindly care and plenty of +nourishment, was able to leave his cot, and on the third morning he +was determined to return to his duty. + +"I won't baulk you, Stanny," said his uncle; "good soldiers, like good +sailors, never turn their backs on their work. But mind, this ship is +your home whenever and wherever you like to come on board; and if you +want anything you have only to ask for it, d'ye hear?" + +McKay promised readily to draw upon his uncle when needful, and then, +his horse being still at Balaclava, he once more got into the saddle +and rode up to camp. + +The journey prepared him a little for what he found. All the way from +Balaclava his horse struggled knee-deep in mud: a very quagmire of +black, sticky slush. Yet this was the great highway--the only road +between the base of supply and an army engaged eight miles distant in +an arduous siege. Along it the whole of the food, ammunition, and +material had to be carried on pony-back, or in a few ponderous carts +drawn by gaunt, over-worked teams, which too often left their wheels +fast-caught in the mire. + +At the front--it had been raining in torrents for hours--the mud was +thicker, blacker, and more tenacious. Tents stood in pools of water; +their occupants, harassed by trench duty, lay shivering within, +half-starved and wet. + +McKay made his way at once to the colonel and reported his return. + +"Oh! so you've thought fit to come back," said Colonel Blythe, rather +grumpily. Since war and sickness had decimated his battalion he looked +upon every absentee, from whatever cause, right or wrong, as a +recreant deserter. + +"I was with my general, sir," expostulated Stanislas. + +"The general has no need of an aide-de-camp now. _We_ want every man +that can stand upright in his boots. I have given up the command of +the brigade myself so as to look the better after my men." + +McKay accepted the reproof without a murmur, and only said-- + +"Well, sir, I am here now, and ready to do whatever I may be called +upon. I feel my first duty is to my own colonel and my own corps." + +"Do you mean that, young fellow?" said the colonel, thawing a little. + +"Certainly, sir." + +"Because they want to inveigle you away--on the staff. Lord Raglan has +sent to inquire for you." + +"I have no desire to go, sir," said McKay, simply; although his face +flushed red at the compliment implied by the Commander-in-Chief's +message. + +"It seems he was pleased with the way you rallied those Frenchmen, and +he has heard you are a good linguist, and he wants to put you on the +staff." + +"I had much rather stay with the regiment, sir," said McKay. + +"Are you quite sure? You must not stand in your own light. This is a +fine chance for you to get on in the service." The colonel's voice had +become very friendly. + +"I know where my true duty lies, sir; I owe everything to you and to +the regiment. I should not hesitate to refuse an appointment on the +general staff if it were offered me now." McKay did not add that his +future prospects were now materially changed, and that it was no +longer of supreme importance to him to rise in his profession. + +"Give me your hand, my boy," said Colonel Blythe, visibly touched at +McKay's disinterestedness. "You are proving your gratitude in a way I +shall never forget. But let us talk business. You know I want you as +adjutant." + +"I shall be only too proud to act, sir." + +"I must have a good staff about me. We are in great straits; the +regiment will go from bad to worse. There are barely 200 'duty' men +now, and it will soon be a mere skeleton, unless we can take good care +of the rest." + +"Yes, sir," said McKay, feeling constrained to say something. + +"They are suffering--we all are, but the men most of all--from +exposure, cold, want of proper clothing, and, above all, from want of +proper food. This is what I wish to remedy. They are dying of +dysentery, fever, cholera--I don't know what." + +"The doctor, sir?" + +"Can do nothing. He has few drugs; but, as he says, that would hardly +matter if the men could have warmth and nourishment." + +"Something might be done, sir, with system; the quartermaster--" + +"You are right. Let us consult him. Hyde is still acting, and he has +already proved himself a shrewd, hard-headed old soldier." + +Quartermaster-sergeant Hyde--for he had accepted the grade, although +unwillingly--came and stood "at attention" before his superiors. + +"As to food, sir," he said, "the men might be provided with hot +coffee, and, I think, hot soup, on coming off duty. I am only doubtful +as to the sufficiency of fuel." + +"There is any quantity of drift-wood just now--wreckage--floating in +Balaclava Harbour," suggested McKay. + +"We must have it sir, somehow," said Hyde, eagerly. "But can we get it +up to the front?" + +"We'll lay an embargo on all the baggage-animals in camp. Take the +whole lot down to Balaclava, and lay hands on every scrap of timber." + +"As to clothing, sir, an uncle of mine has come up with a +heavily-laden ship--hutting-timbers mostly, but he may have some spare +blankets, sailors' pea-jackets, jerseys, and so forth." + +"And boots, long boots or short--all kinds will be acceptable. Get +anything and everything that is warm. I'll pay out of my own pocket +sooner than not have them. When can you start, Hyde?" + +"Now, sir, if that will suit Mr. McKay, and I can have the horses." + +The matter was speedily arranged, and in the early afternoon our hero +and Hyde were jogging back to Balaclava, at the head of a string of +animals led and ridden by a small selected fatigue-party of regimental +batmen and grooms. + +It was the first occasion on which the two friends had conversed +freely together for months. + +McKay had most to tell. He spoke first of the offer to go on the +headquarter-staff which he had refused. Then of the strange accidents +by which he had become heir presumptive to the earldom of Essendine. +Last of all, of the narrow escape he had of his life. + +Hyde pressed him on this point. + +"You fell overboard--lost your balance, eh? Entirely your own doing? +Mrs. Wilders did not help you at all?" + +"How on earth, Hyde, did you guess that? I never hinted at such a +thing." + +"I know her--do not look surprised--I know her, and have done so +intimately for years. There is nothing she would stick at if she saw +her advantage therefrom. You were in her way; she sought to remove +you, as, no doubt, she, or some one acting for her, had removed Lord +Lydstone, and--and--for all I know, ever so many more." + +"Can she be such a fiendish wretch?" + +"She is a demon, Stanislas McKay. Beware how you cross her path. But +let her also take heed how she tries to injure you again. She will +have to do with me then." + +"Why, Hyde! what extraordinary language is this? What do you know of +Mrs. Wilders? What can you mean?" + +"Some day you shall hear everything, but not now. It is too long a +story. Besides, here we are at Balaclava. Do you know where your +uncle's ship lies?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +RED TAPE. + + +"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as +McKay stepped on board the _Burlington Castle_. "I am right glad to +see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome +too. What brings you to Balaclava?" + +McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come. + +"Drift-wood--is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can +help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send +the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for +you, and load up your horses." + +Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply +of fuel, intending to return next morning to take up any other +supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this +subject that same evening. + +"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay +we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's +boots." + +"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are +being frozen to death." + +"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought +up--_greggos_, I think they call them--what those Tartar chaps wear in +Bulgaria.'" + +"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle." + +"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store." + +"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning." + +"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat +officer, as you'll see." + +Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of +long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of +professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave +to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the +narrow grooves in which he had been trained. + +The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable +chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so +he did nothing to it at all. + +When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber was being interviewed +by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown +rather serious. + +"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must +have the stoves." + +"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition +properly signed." + +"By whom?" + +"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you +refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be +complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of +the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the +senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of +division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have +the stoves." + +"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a +week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying." + +"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule." + +"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious. + +"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark, +and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards. + +"I have come for six bags of coffee." + +"Where is your requisition?" + +The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with +printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate +calculations. + +Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took +him half-an-hour. + +"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly +filled in. But you shall have the coffee--if we can find it." + +Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant +rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at +last he produced five bags, saying-- + +"You will have to do with this." + +"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are +we to roast it?" + +"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green +berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted +just before use." + +"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it," +said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away +grumbling, leaving the bags behind him. + +McKay followed him out of the store. + +"You won't take the coffee, then?" + +"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such +stuff." + +"May I have it?" + +"If you like. It's all one to me." + +"Give me the requisition, then." + +Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. +Dawber. + +"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I +will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition." + +The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags +according to form. + +McKay next attacked him about the _greggos_. Despairing, after all he +had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a +stratagem. + +"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the _Burlington +Castle_?" + +"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least +idea what's inside." + +"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?" + +"Certainly." + +"May I look at it? I come from the _Burlington Castle_, and the +captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing +the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters." + +"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's +signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?" + +"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until +the proper formalities have been observed." + +"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to +you for your suggestion." + +A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help +of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where +he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up +the _greggos_ on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph. + +From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their +condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than +the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea. + +Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they +were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a +sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with +rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde. + +He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the +Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips +of sound brandy, brought straight from the _Burlington Castle_, freely +imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of +the Royal Picts. + +"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was +trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could +make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe." + +"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That +stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork. +There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?" + +Old Hyde winked gravely. + +"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch +it." + +"You can trust me. Out with it." + +"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know +where to look for it. Anatole"--this was his French friend--"put me up +to it." + +"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?" + +"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon +horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it +is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get." + +"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will +be as well, I think, to keep your secret." + +But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts +throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury +stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its +numbers in a marvellous way--it even returned more men for duty than +corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others +in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over +and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command. + +"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we +had a few more regiments like the Picts." + +"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of +ours--that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital +quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant." + +"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan. + +McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the +Commander-in-Chief. + +"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I +have just had a letter, too, about you from England." + +"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished. + +"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less +than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on +the headquarter staff." + +McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head. + +"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment." + +"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan. +"We want him, and more of his stamp." + +"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but +I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him +so much now that everything is in good working order." + +McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by +saying-- + +"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General +Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to +Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see." + +"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster." + +"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once." + +"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde. + +"He has refused it several times," added Blythe. + +"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the +service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan +rode off. + +Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached +to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely +examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief, +General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd +judge of character. + +"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the +conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian? +German? Russian?--" + +"Yes, sir, Russian." + +"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard, +Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here." + +McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at +headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the +stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to +possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands +upon their strength. + +"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General Airey, +coming out one morning to the room in which his staff-assistants worked and +waited for special instructions. There was no one there but McKay, and he +had that instant returned from Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning, +Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it can't be helped; you must go again." + +"I am only too ready, sir." + +"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you." + +"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the +London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!" + +"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this +morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments +and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without +intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into +everything with his own eyes." + +"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow +his example," said McKay, as he hurried away. + +This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new +chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the +common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss +with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour. + +There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on +the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by +perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating +between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by +thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued +supreme. Roads, mere spongy sloughs of despond, were nearly +impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon +few would remain. + +To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance. + +"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey, +talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done +sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to +Constantinople, Italy--" + +"Spain," suggested McKay. + +"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?" + +"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses." + +"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the +quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the +subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?" + +"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well." + +"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send +you." + +This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to +be taken by Lord Raglan. + +Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the +Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward +baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +AGAIN ON THE ROCK. + + +McKay travelled as far as Constantinople in one of the man-of-war +despatch-boats used for the postal service. There he changed into a +transport homeward bound, and proceeded on his voyage without delay. + +But half-an-hour at Constantinople was enough to gain tidings of the +_Arcadia_ and her passengers. + +The yacht, he learnt, had left only a week or two before. It had +lingered a couple of months at the Golden Horn, during which time +General Wilders lay between life and death. + +Mortification at last set in, and then all hope was gone. The general +died, and was buried at Scutari, after which Mrs. Wilders, still +utilising the _Arcadia_, started for England. + +The yacht, a fast sailer, made good progress, and was already at +anchor in Gibraltar Bay on the morning that McKay arrived. + +"Shall I go on board and tax her with her misdeeds?" McKay asked +himself. "No; she can wait. I have more pressing and more pleasant +business on hand." + +His first visit was to the Convent. "You shall have every assistance +from us," said the Governor, Sir Thomas Drummond. "But what do you +propose to do, and how can I help?" + +"My object, sir, is to collect all the animals I can in the shortest +possible time. I propose, first, to set the purchase going here--under +your auspices, if you agree--then visit Alicante, Valencia, Barcelona, +and ship off all I can secure." + +"An excellent plan. Well, you shall have my hearty co-operation. If +there is anything else--" + +An aide-de-camp came in at this moment and whispered a few words in +his general's ear. + +"What! on shore? Here in the Convent, too? Poor soul! of course we +will see her. Let some one tell Lady Drummond. Forgive me, Mr. McKay: +a lady has just called whom I am bound by every principle of courtesy, +consideration, and compassion to see at once. Perhaps you will return +later?" + +McKay bowed and passed out into the antechamber. On the threshold he +met Mrs. Wilders face to face. + +"You--!" she gasped out, but instantly checked the exclamation of +chagrin and dismay that rose to her lips. + +"You hardly expected to see me, perhaps; but I was miraculously +saved." + +McKay spoke slowly, and the delay gave Mrs. Wilders time to collect +herself. + +"I am most thankful. It has lifted a load off my mind. I feared you +were lost." + +"Yes; the sea seldom gives up its prey. But enough about myself. You +are going in to see the general, I think; do not let me detain you." + +"I shall be very pleased to see you on board the yacht." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Wilders; I am sure you will. But to me such a visit +would be very painful. My last recollections of the _Arcadia_ are not +too agreeable." + +"Of course not. You were so devoted to my poor dear husband." + +Mrs. Wilders would not acknowledge his meaning. + +"But I shall see you again before I leave, I trust." + +"My stay here is very short. I am only on a special mission, and I +must return to the Crimea without delay. But we shall certainly meet +again some day, Mrs. Wilders; you may rely on that." + +There was meaning, menace even, in this last speech, and it gave Mrs. +Wilders food for serious thought. + +McKay did not pause to say more. He was too eager to go elsewhere. + +His first visit, as in duty bound, had been to report his arrival and +set on foot the business that had brought him. His second was to see +sweet Mariquita, the girl of his choice. + +They had exchanged several letters. His had been brief, hurried +accounts of his doings, assuring her of his safety after every action +and of his unalterable affection; hers were the artless outpourings of +a warm, passionate nature tortured by ever-present heartrending +anxiety for the man she loved best in the world. There had been no +time to warn her of his visit to Gibraltar, and his appearance was +entirely unexpected there. + +Things were much the same at the cigar-shop. McKay walked boldly in +and found La Zandunga, as usual, behind the counter, but alone. She +got up, and, not recognising him, bowed obsequiously. Officers were +rare visitors in Bombardier Lane and McKay's staff-uniform inspired +respect. + +"You are welcome, sir. In what can we serve you? Our tobacco is +greatly esteemed. We import our cigars--the finest--direct from La +Havanna; our cigarettes are made in the house." + +"You do not seem to remember me," said McKay, quietly. "I hope +Mariquita is well?" + +"Heaven protect me! It is the Sergeant--" + +"Lieutenant, you mean." + +"An officer! already! You have been fortunate, sir." La Zandunga spoke +without cordiality and was evidently hesitating how to receive him. +"What brings you here?" + +"I want to see Mariquita." The old crone stared at him with stony +disapproval. "I have but just arrived from the Crimea to buy horses +and mules for the army." + +"Many?" Her manner instantly changed. This was business for her +husband, who dealt much in horseflesh. + +"Thousands." + +"Won't you be seated, sir? Let me take your hat. Mariqui--ta!" she +cried, with remarkable volubility. The guest was clearly entitled to +be treated with honour. + +Mariquita entered hastily, expecting to be chidden, then paused shyly, +seeing who was there. + +"Shamefaced, come; don't you know this gentleman?" said her aunt, +encouragingly. "Entertain him, little one, while I fetch your uncle." + +"What does it mean?" asked Mariquita, in amazement, as soon as she +could release herself from her lover's embrace. "You here, Stanislas: +my aunt approving! Am I mad or asleep?" + +"Neither, dearest. She sees a chance of profit out of me--that's all. +I will not baulk her. She deserves it for leaving us alone," and he +would have taken her again into his arms. + +"No, no! Enough, Stanislas!" said the sweet girl, blushing a rosy red. +"Sit there and be quiet. Tell me of yourself: why you are here. The +war, then, is over? The Holy Saints be praised! How I hated that +war!" + +"Do not say that, love! It has been the making of me." + +"Nothing would compensate me for all that I have suffered these last +few months." + +"But I have gained my promotion and much more. I can offer you now a +far higher position. You will be a lady, a great lady, some day!" + +"It matters little, my Stanislas, so long as I am with you. I would +have been content to share your lot, however humble, anywhere." + +This was her simple, unquestioning faith. Her love filled all her +being. She belonged, heart and soul, to this man. + +"You will not leave me again, Stanislas?" she went on, with tender +insistence. + +"My sweet, I must go back. My duty is there, in the Crimea, with my +comrades--with the army of my Queen." + +"But if anything should happen to you--they may hurt you, kill you!" + +"Darling, there is no fear. Be brave." + +"Oh, Stanislas! Suppose I should lose you--life would be an utter +blank after that; I have no one in the world but you." + +McKay was greatly touched by this proof of her deep-seated affection. + +"It is only for a little while longer, my sweetest girl! Be patient +and hopeful to the end. By-and-by we shall come together, never to +part again." + +"I am weak, foolish--too loving, perhaps. But, Stanislas, I cannot +bear to part with you. Let me go too!" + +"Dearest, that is quite impossible." + +"If I was only near you--" + +"What! you--a tender woman--in that wild land, amidst all its dangers +and trials!" + +"I should fear nothing if it was for you, Stanislas. I would give you +my life; I would lay it down freely for you." + +He could find no words to thank her for such un-selfish devotion, but +he pressed her to his heart again and again. + +He still held Mariquita's hand, and was soothing her with many +endearing expressions, when La Zandunga, accompanied by Tio Pedro, +returned. + +The lovers flew apart, abashed at being surprised. + +McKay expected nothing less than coarse abuse, but no honey could be +sweeter than the old people's accents and words. + +"Do not mind us," said La Zandunga, coaxingly. + +"A pair of turtle-doves," said Tio Pedro: "bashful and timid as +birds." + +"Sit down, good sir," went on the old woman: "you can see Mariquita +again. Let us talk first of this business." + +"You want horses, I believe?" said Tio Pedro. "I can get you any +number. What price will you pay?" + +"What they are worth." + +"And a little more, which we will divide between ourselves," added the +old man, with a knowing wink. + +"That's not the way with British officers," said McKay, sternly. + +"It's the way with ours in Spain." + +"That may be. However, I will take five hundred from you, at twenty +pounds apiece, if they are delivered within three days." + +Tio Pedro got up and walked towards the door. + +"I go to fetch them. I am the key of Southern Spain. When I will, +every stable-door shall be unlocked. You shall have the horses, and +more, if you choose, in the stated time." + +"One moment, Senor Pedro; I want something else from you, and you, +senora." + +They looked at him with well-disguised astonishment. + +"I have long loved your niece; will you give her to me in marriage?" + +"Oh! sir, it is too great an honour for our house. We--she--are all +unworthy. But if you insist, and are prepared to take her as she is, +dowerless, uncultured, with only her natural gifts, she is yours." + +"I want only herself. I have sufficient means for both. They may still +be modest, but I have good prospects--the very best. Some day I shall +inherit a great fortune." + +"Oh! sir, you overwhelm us. We can make you no sufficient return for +your great condescension. Only command us, and we will faithfully +execute your wishes." + +"My only desire is that you should treat Mariquita well. Take every +care of her until I can return. It will not be long, I trust, before +this war is ended, and then I will make her my wife." + +McKay's last words were overheard by a man who at this moment entered +the shop. + +It was Benito, who advanced with flaming face and fierce, angry eyes +towards the group at the counter. + +"What is this--and your promise to me? The girl is mine; you gave her +to me months ago." + +"Our promise was conditional on Mariquita's consent," said La +Zandunga, with clever evasion. "That you have never been able to +obtain." + +"I should have secured it in time but for this scoundrel who has come +between me and my affianced bride. He'll have to settle with me, +whoever he is," and so saying, Benito came closer to McKay, whom +hitherto he had not recognised. "The Englishman!" he cried, starting +back. + +"Very much at your service," replied McKay, shortly. "I am not afraid +of your threats. I think I can hold my own with you as I have done +before." + +"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and +malice, he rushed from the place. + +When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot +Shell Ramp, she found him in a mood fit for any desperate deed. But, +with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked +him for his help. + +"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said. +"And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within +reach of the English law." + +"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently +return to the Crimea." + +"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed +with a wild hope of revenge. + +"McKay--Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts." + +It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark +eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast. + +"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of +hate. + +"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito. + +"Do so, and claim your own reward." + +"But how? When? Where?" + +"That is for you to settle. Watch him, stick to him, dog his +footsteps, follow him wherever he goes. Some day he must give you a +chance." + +"Leave it to me. The moment will come when I shall sheathe my knife in +his heart." + +"I think I can trust you. Only do it well, and never let me see him +again." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MR. HOBSON CALLS. + + +The _Arcadia_ went direct from Gibraltar to Southampton, where Mrs. +Wilders left it and returned to London. + +It was necessary for her to review her position and look things in the +face. Her circumstances were undoubtedly straitened since her +husband's death. She had her pension as the widow of a general +officer--but this was a mere pittance at best--and the interest of the +small private fortune settled, at the time of the marriage, on her and +her children, should she have any. Her income from both these sources +amounted to barely L300 a year--far too meagre an amount according to +her present ideas, burdened as she was, moreover, with the care and +education of a child. + +But how was she to increase it? The reversion of the great Wilders +estates still eluded her grasp; they might never come her way, +whatever lengths she might go to secure them. + +"Lord Essendine ought to do something for me," she told herself, as +soon as she was settled in town. "It was not fair to keep the +existence of this hateful young man secret; my boy suffers by it, poor +little orphan! Surely I can make a good case of this to his lordship; +and, after all, the child comes next." + +She wrote accordingly to the family lawyers, Messrs. Burt and Benham, +asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior +partner, Mr. Burt. + +He was blandly sympathetic, but distant. + +"Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I +presume, a business visit, may I ask--" + +"I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine." + +"On what grounds?" + +"My infant son is the next heir." + +"Nay; surely you know--there is another before him?" + +"Before my boy! Who? What can you mean? Impossible! I have never heard +a syllable of this. I shall contest it." + +It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her +position. + +"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are +perfectly sound." + +"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see +Lord Essendine myself." + +"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in +Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed +greatly under recent afflictions." + +"He must and shall know how I am situated." + +"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no +right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will +meet you in a liberal spirit." + +So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to +Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a +handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a +house and make herself a home. + +Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not +only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort +and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way--a +small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing +from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she +kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook. + +There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or +Benito's Spanish knife might yet rid her of the one obstacle that +still stood between her son and the inheritance of great wealth. + +It was with a distinct annoyance, then, while leading this tranquil +but luxurious life, that her man-servant brought in a card one +afternoon, bearing the name of Hobson, and said, "The gentleman hopes +you will be able to see him at once." + +"How did you find me out?" she asked, angrily, when her visitor--the +same Mr. Hobson we saw at Constantinople--was introduced. + +"Ah! How do I find everything and everybody out? That's my affair--my +business, I may say." + +"And what do you want?" went on Mrs. Wilders, in the same key. + +"First of all, to condole with you on the loss of so many near +relatives. I missed you at Constantinople after Lord Lydstone's sad +and dreadful death." + +Mrs. Wilders shuddered in spite of herself. + +"You suffer remorse?" he said, mockingly. + +She made a gesture of protest. + +"Sorrow, I should say. Yet you benefited greatly." + +"On the contrary, not at all. Another life still intervenes." + +"Another! and you knew nothing of it! Impossible!" + +"It is too true. I am as far as ever from the accomplishment of my +hopes." + +"Who is this unknown interloper?" + +"An English officer, at present serving in the Crimea. His name is +McKay: Stanislas McKay." + +"The name is familiar; the Christian name is suggestive. Do you know +whether he is of Polish origin?" + +"Yes, I have heard so. His father was once in the Russian army." + +"It is the same, then. There can be no doubt of it. And you would like +to see him out of the way? I might help you, perhaps." + +"How? I have my own agents at work." + +"He is in the Crimea, you say?" + +"Yes, or will be within a few weeks." + +"If we could inveigle him into the Russian lines he would be shot or +hanged as a traitor. He is a Russian subject in arms against his +Czar." + +"It would be difficult, I fear, to get him into Russian hands." + +"Some stratagem might accomplish it. You have agents at work, you say, +in the Crimea?" + +"They can go there." + +"Put me in communication with them, and leave it all to me." + +"You will place me under another onerous obligation, Hippolyte." + +"No, thanks. I am about to ask a favour in return. You can help me, I +think." + +"Yes? Command me." + +"You have many acquaintances in London; your late husband's friends +were military men. I want a little information at times." + +Mrs. Wilders looked at him curiously. + +"Why don't you call things by their right names? You would like to +employ me as a spy--is that what you mean?" + +"Well, if you like to put it so, yes. I suppose I can count upon you?" + +"I am sorry not to be able to oblige you, but I am afraid I must say +no." + +"You are growing squeamish, Cyprienne, in your old age. To think of +your having scruples!" + +"I despise your sneers. It does not suit me to do what you wish, +that's all; it would be unsafe." + +"What have you to lose?" + +"All this." She waved her hand round the prettily-furnished room. +"Lord Essendine has been very kind to me, and if there were any +suspicions--if any rumour got about that I was employed by or for +you--he would certainly withdraw the income he gives me." + +Mr. Hobson laughed quietly. + +"You have given yourself away, as they say in America; you have put +yourself in my hands, Cyprienne. I insist now upon your doing what I +wish." + +"You shall not browbeat me!" She rose from her seat, with indignation +in her face. "Leave me, or I will call the servants." + +"I shall go straight to Lord Essendine, then, and tell him all I know. +How would you like that? How about your allowance, and the protection +of that great family? Don't you know, foolish woman, that you are +absolutely and completely in my power?" + +Mrs. Wilders made no reply. Her face was a study; many emotions +struggled for mastery--fear, sullen obstinacy, and impotent rage. + +"Come, be more reasonable," went on Mr. Hobson, "Our partnership is of +long standing; it cannot easily be dissolved; certainly not now. After +all, what is it I ask you? A few questions put adroitly to the right +person, an occasional visit to some official friend; to keep your eyes +and ears open, and be always on the watch. Surely, there is no great +trouble, no danger, in that?" + +"If you will have it so, I suppose I must agree. But where and how am +I to begin?" + +"I leave it all to you, my dear madam; you are much more at home in +this great town than I am. I can only indicate the lines on which you +should proceed." + +"How shall I communicate with you?" + +"Only by word of mouth. When you have anything to say, write to +me--there is my address"--he pointed to his card--"Duke Street, St. +James's. Write just three lines, asking me to lunch, nothing more; I +shall understand." + +"And about this hated McKay?" + +"Let me know when he returns to the Crimea. We shall be able to hit +upon a plan then. But it will require some thought, and a reckless, +unscrupulous tool." + +"I know the very man. He is devoted to my interests, and a bitter +enemy of McKay's." + +"We shall succeed then, never fear," and with these words Mr. Hobson +took his leave. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +WAR TO THE KNIFE. + + +Since we left him at Gibraltar McKay had led a busy life. The "Horse +Purchase" was in full swing upon the north front, where, in a short +space of time, many hundreds of animals were picketed ready for +shipment to the East. Having set this part of his enterprise on foot, +he had proceeded to the Spanish ports on the Eastern coast and +repeated the process. + +Alicante was the great centre of his operations on this side, and +there, by means of dealers and contractors, he speedily collected a +large supply of mules. They were kept in the bull-ring and the grounds +adjoining, a little way out of the town. A number of native muleteers +were engaged to look after them, and McKay succeeded in giving the +whole body of men and mules some sort of military organisation. + +They were a rough lot, these local muleteers, the scum and riff-raff +of Valencia--black-muzzled, dark-skinned mongrels, half Moors, half +Spaniards, lawless, turbulent, and quarrelsome. + +Fights were frequent amongst them--sanguinary struggles, in which the +murderous native knife played a prominent part, and both antagonists +were often stabbed and slashed to death. + +The local authorities looked askance at this gathering of rascaldom, +and gave them a wide berth. But McKay went fearlessly amongst his +reprobate followers, administering a rough-and-ready sort of +discipline, and keeping them as far as possible within bounds. + +It was his custom to pay a nightly visit to his charge. He went +through the lines, saw that the night-patrols were on the alert, and +the rest of the men quiet. + +Repeatedly the overseers next him in authority cautioned him against +venturing out of the town so late. + +"There are evil people about," said his head man, a worthy "scorpion," +whom he had brought with him from Gibraltar. "Your worship would do +better to stay at home at night." + +"What have I to fear?" replied McKay, stoutly. "I have my revolver; I +can take care of myself." + +They evidently did not think so, for it became the rule for a couple +of them to escort him back to town without his knowledge. + +They followed at a little distance behind him, carrying lanterns, and +keeping him always in sight. + +One night McKay discovered their kind intentions, and civilly, but +firmly, put an end to the practice. + +Next night he was attacked on his way back to the hotel. A man rushed +out on him from a dark corner, and made a blow at his breast with a +knife. It missed him, although his coat was cut through. + +A short encounter followed. McKay was stronger than his assailant, +whom he speedily disarmed; but he was not so active. The fellow +managed to slip through his fingers and run; all that McKay could do +was to send three shots after him, fired quickly from his revolver, +and without good aim. + +"Scoundrel! he has got clear away," said McKay, as he put up his +weapon. "Who was it, I wonder? Not one of my own men; and yet I seemed +to know him. If I did not think he was still at Gibraltar, I should +say it was that miscreant Benito. I shall have to get him hanged, or +he will do for me one of these days." + +The pistol-shots attracted no particular attention in this deserted, +dead-alive Spanish town, and McKay got back to his hotel without +challenge or inquiry. + +A day or two later, as the organisation of his mule-train was now +complete, and transports were already arriving to embark their +four-footed freight, he returned to Gibraltar, meaning to go on to the +Crimea without delay. + +Of course he went to Bombardier Lane, where he was received by the old +people like a favourite son. + +Mariquita, blushing and diffident, was scarcely able to realise that +her Stanislas was now at liberty to make love to her, openly and +without question. + +The time, however, for their tender intercourse was all too short. +McKay expected hourly the steamer that was to take him eastward, and +his heart ached at the prospect of parting. As for Mariquita, she had +alternated between blithe joyousness and plaintive, despairing sorrow. + +"I shall never see you again, Stanislas," she went on repeating, when +the last mood was on her. + +"Nonsense! I have come out harmless so far; I shall do so to the end. +The Russians can't hurt me." + +"But you have other enemies, dearest--pitiless, vindictive, and +implacable." + +"Whom do you mean? Benito?" + +"You know without my telling you. He has shown his enmity, then? How? +Oh, Stanislas! be on your guard against that black-hearted man." + +Should he tell her of his suspicions that it was Benito who had +attacked him at Alicante? No; it would only aggravate her fears. But +he tried, nevertheless, to verify these suspicions without letting +Mariquita know the secret. + +"Is Benito at Gibraltar?" he asked, quietly, + +"We have not seen him for weeks. Since--since--you know, my +life!--since you came to our house he has kept away. But I heard my +uncle say that he had left the Rock to buy mules. He was going, I +believe, to Alicante. Did you see him there?" + +"I saw many ruffians of his stamp, but I did not distinguish our +friend." + +"You must never let him come near you, Stanislas. Remember what I say. +He is treacherous, truculent--a very fiend." + +"If he comes across my path I will put my heel upon him like a toad. +But let us talk of something more pleasant--of you--of our future +life. Shall you like to live in England, and never see the sun?" + +"You will be my sun, Stanislas." + +"Then you will have to learn English." + +"It will be easy enough if you teach me." + +"Some day you will be a great lady--one of the greatest in London, +perhaps. You'll have a grand house, carriages, magnificent dresses, +diamonds--" + +"I only want you," she said, as she nestled closer to his side. + +It was sad that stern duty should put an end to these pretty love +passages, but the moment of separation arrived inexorably, and, after +a sad, passionate leave-taking, McKay tore himself away. + +Mariquita for days was inconsolable. She brooded constantly in a +corner, weeping silent tears, utterly absorbed in her grief. They +considerately left her alone. Since she had become the affianced wife +of a man of McKay's rank and position, both the termagant aunt and +cross-grained uncle had treated her with unbounded respect. They would +not allow her to be vexed or worried by any one, least of all by +Benito, who, as soon as the English officer was out of the way, again +began to haunt the house. + +It was about her that they were having high words a day or two after +McKay's departure. + +Mariquita overheard them. + +"You shall not see her, I tell you!" said La Zandunga, with shrill +determination. "The sweet child is sad and sick at heart." + +"She has broken mine, as you have your word to me. I shall never be +happy more." + +He spoke as though he was in great distress, and his grief, if false, +was certainly well feigned. + +"Bah!" said old Pedro. "No man ever died of unrequited love. There are +as good fish in the sea." + +"I wanted this one," said Benito, in deep dejection. "No matter; I am +going away. There is a fine chance yonder, and I may perhaps forget +her." + +"Where, then?" asked the old woman. + +"In the Crimea. I start to-morrow." + +"Go, in Heaven's keeping," said Tio Pedro. + +"And never let us see you again," added La Zandunga, whose sentiments +towards Benito had undergone an entire change in the last few months. + +"May I not see her to say good-bye?" + +"No, you would only agitate her." + +"Do not be so cruel. I implore you to let me speak to her." + +"Be off!" said the old woman, angrily. "You are importunate and +ill-bred." + +"I will not go; I will see her first." + +"Put him out, Pedro; by force, if he will not go quietly." + +Tio Pedro rose rather reluctantly and advanced towards Benito. + +"Hands off!" cried the young man, savagely striking at Pedro. + +"What! You dare!" said the other furiously. "I am not too old to deal +with such a stripling. Begone, I say, quicker than that!" and Tio +Pedro pushed Benito towards the door. + +There was a struggle, but it was of short duration. Within a few +seconds Benito was ejected into the street. + +By-and-by, when the coast was clear, and Mariquita felt safe from the +intrusion of the man she loathed, she came out into the shop. + +By this time the place was quiet. Tio Pedro had gone off to a +neighbouring wine-shop to exaggerate his recent prowess, and La +Zandunga sat alone behind the counter. + +"Where is Benito? Has he gone?" asked Mariquita, nervously. + +"Yes. Did he frighten my sweet bird?" said her aunt, soothing her. +"He is an indecent, ill-mannered rogue, and we shall be well rid of +him." + +"Well rid of him? He really leaves us, then? For the Crimea?" + +"You have guessed it. Yes. He thinks there is a chance of finding +fortune there." + +Was that his only reason? Mariquita put her hand upon her heart, which +had almost ceased beating. She was sick with apprehension. Did not +Benito's departure forebode evil for her lover? + +Just then her eye fell upon a piece of crumpled paper lying on the +floor--part of a letter, it seemed. Almost mechanically--with no +special intention at least--she stooped to pick it up. + +"What have you got there?" asked her aunt. + +"A letter." + +"It must be Benito's; he probably dropped it in the scuffle. Do you +know that he dared to raise his hand against my worthy husband?" + +"If it is Benito's I have no desire to touch it," said Mariquita, +disdainfully. + +"Throw it into the yard, then," said her aunt. + +Mariquita accordingly went to the back door and out into the garden, +round which she walked listlessly, once or twice, forgetting what she +held in her hand. + +Then she looked at it in an aimless, absent way, and began to read +some of the words. + +The letter was in Spanish, written in a female hand. It said-- + +"Wait till he goes back to the Crimea, then follow him instantly. On +arrival at Balaclava go at once to the Maltese baker whose shop is at +the head of the bay near Kadikoi; he will give you employment. This +will explain and cover your presence in the camp. You will visit all +parts of it, selling bread. You must hang about the English +headquarters; he is most often there; and remember that he is the sole +object of your errand. You must know at all times where he is and what +he is doing. + +"Further instructions will reach you through the baker in the Crimea. +Obey them to the letter, and you will receive a double reward. Money +to any amount shall be yours, and you will have had your revenge upon +the man who has robbed you of your love." + +After reading this carefully there was no doubt in Mariquita's mind +that Benito's mission was directed against McKay. Her first thought +was the urgency of the danger that threatened her lover; the second, +an eager desire to put him on his guard. But how was she to do this? +By letter? There was no time. By a trusty messenger? But whom could +she send? There was no one from whom she could seek advice or +assistance save the old people; and in her heart, notwithstanding +their present extreme civility, she mistrusted both. + +She was sorely puzzled what to do, but yet resolved to save her lover +somehow, even at the risk of her own life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +AT MOTHER CHARCOAL'S. + + +With the return of spring brighter days dawned for the British troops +in the East. The worst troubles were ended; supplies of all kinds were +now flowing in in great profusion; the means of transport to the front +were enormously increased and improved, not only by the opportune +arrival of great drafts of baggage-animals, through the exertions of +men like McKay, but by the construction of a railway for goods +traffic. + +The chief difficulty, however, still remained unsolved: the siege +still slowly dragged itself along. Sebastopol refused to fall, and, +with its gallant garrison under the indomitable Todleben, still +obstinately kept the Allies at bay. + +The besiegers' lines were, however, slowly but surely tightening +round the place. Many miles of trenches were now open and innumerable +batteries had been built and armed. The struggle daily became closer +and more strenuously maintained. The opposing forces--besiegers and +besieged--were in constant collision. Sharpshooters interchanged shots +all day long, and guns answered guns. The Russians made frequent +sorties by night; and every day there were hand-to-hand conflicts for +the possession of rifle-pits and the more advanced posts. + +It was a dreary, disappointing season. This siege seemed interminable. +No one saw the end of it. All alike--from generals to common men--were +despondent and dispirited with the weariness of hope long deferred. + +Why did we not attack the place? This was the burden of every song. +The attack--always imminent, always postponed--was the one topic of +conversation wherever soldiers met and talked together. + +It was debated and discussed seriously, and from every point of view, +in the council-chamber, where Lord Raglan met his colleagues and the +great officers of the staff. It was the gossip round the camp-fire, +where men beguiled the weary hours of trench-duty. It was tossed from +mouth to mouth by thoughtless subalterns as they galloped on their +Tartar ponies for a day's outing to Kamiesch, when released from +sterner toil. + +The attack! To-morrow--next day--some day--never! So it went on, with +a wearisome, monotonous sameness that was perfectly exasperating. + +"I give you Good-day, my friend. Well, you see the summer is now close +at hand, and still we are on the wrong side of the wall." + +The speaker was M. Anatole Belhomme, Hyde's French friend. They had +met outside a drinking-booth in the hut-town of Kadikoi. Hyde was +riding a pony; the other was on foot. + +"Ah! my gallant Gaul, is it you?" replied Hyde. "Let's go in and +jingle glasses together, hey?" + +"A little tear of cognac would not be amiss," replied the Frenchman, +whose excessive fondness for the fermented liquor of his country was +the chief cause of his finding himself a sergeant in the Voltigeurs +instead of chief cook to a Parisian restaurant or an English duke. + +Hyde hitched up his pony at the door, and they entered the booth, +seating themselves at one of the tables, if the two inverted +wine-boxes used for the purpose deserved the name. There were other +soldiers about, mostly British: a couple of sergeants of the Guards, +an assistant of the provost-marshal, some of the new Land Transport +Corps, and one or two Sardinians, in their picturesque green tunics +and cocked hats with great plumes of black feathers. + +The demand for drink was incessant and kept the attendants busy. There +were only two of them: the proprietress, a dark-skinned lady, +familiarly termed Mother Charcoal, and a mite of a boy whom the +English customers called the "imp" and the French _polisson_ (rogue). + +Mother Charcoal was a stout but comely negress, hailing originally +from Jamaica, who had come to Constantinople as stewardess in one of +the transport-ships. Being of an enterprising nature, she had hastened +to the seat of war and sunk all her ready-money in opening a canteen. +She was soon very popular with the allied troops of every nationality +and did a roaring trade. + +"Some brandy--your best, my black Venus!" shouted Hyde. + +"Who you call names? Me no Venus." + +"Well, Mrs. Charcoal, then; that name suits your colour." + +"What colour? You call me coloured? I no common nigger, let me tell +you, sah; I a Georgetown lady. Me wash for officers' wives and give +dignity-balls in my own home. Black Venus! Charcoal! You call me my +right name. Sophimisby Cleopatra Plantagenet Sprotts: that my right +name." + +"Well, Mrs. S.C.P.S., I can't get my tongue round them all; fetch the +brandy or send it. We will talk about your pedigree and Christian +names some other time." + +This chaffing colloquy had raised a general laugh and put Hyde on good +terms with the company. + +"What news from the front, sergeant?" asked one of the Land Transport +Corps, a new comer. + +"Nothing much on our side, except that they say there will be a new +bombardment in a few days. But the French, were pretty busy last +night, to judge from the firing." + +"What was it?" + +"Perhaps our friend here can tell you" and he turned to Anatole, +asking the question in French. + +"A glorious affair, truly!" replied the Frenchman, delighted to have +an opportunity of launching out. + +"I was there--I, who speak to you." + +"Tell us about it," said Hyde; "I will interpret it to these +gentlemen." + +"The Russians, you must understand, have been forming ambuscades in +front of our bastion Du Mat, which have given us infinite trouble. +Last night we attacked them in three columns, 10,000 strong, and drove +them out." + +"Well done!" + +"It was splendidly done!" went on Anatole, bombastically. "Three times +the enemy tried to retake their ambuscades; three times we beat them +back at the point of the bayonet, so!" + +And the excitable Frenchman jumped from his seat and went through the +pantomime of charging with the bayonet. + +"You lost many men?" + +"Thousands. What matter? we have many more to come. The Imperial Guard +has landed, and the reserve, are at Constantinople." + +"Yes, and there are the 'Sardines,'" said another pointing to the new +uniform. + +"Plenty of new arrivals. M. Soyer, the great cook, landed yesterday." + +"What on earth brings him?" + +"He is going to teach the troops to make omelettes and biscuit-soup." + +"We were ahead of him in that, I think," said Hyde, winking at +Anatole. + +"He is with Miss Nightingale, you know, who has come out as head +nurse." + +"Heaven bless her!" + +"Well, for all the new arrivals, we don't get on very fast with the +siege." + +"Why don't they go into the place, without all this shilly-shallying?" +cried an impetuous Briton. "We'd take the place--we, the rank and +file--if the generals only would let us do the work alone." + +"They are a poor lot, the generals, I say." + +"Halt, there! not a word against Lord Raglan," cried Hyde. + +"He is so slow." + +"Yes, but he is uncommon sure. Have you ever seen him in action? I +have. He knows how to command: so quiet and self-possessed. Such a +different man from the French generals, who always shout and swear and +make such a confounded row. What do you think of your generals, +Anatole?" + +"Canrobert is an imbecile; he never knows his own mind." + +"Well, we shan't be troubled with him much longer," said a fresh +arrival. "Canrobert has just resigned the chief command." + +"Impossible!" said Anatole, when the news was interpreted to him. + +"It is perfectly true, I assure you," replied the last speaker. "I +have just come from the English headquarters, and saw the new French +commander-in-chief there. Palliser, I think they call him." + +"Pelissier," said the French sergeant, correcting him. "That is good +news. A rare old dog of war that. We shan't wait long to attack if he +has the ordering." + +"They say the Russian generals have changed lately. Gortschakoff has +succeeded Mentschikoff." + +"Confound those koffs! They are worse than a cold in the head." + +"And just as difficult to get rid of. I'd like to wring their necks, +and every Russian's at Sebastopol." + +"Mentschikoff could not have been a bad fellow, anyway." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Why, one of our officers who was taken prisoner at Inkerman has just +come back to camp. I heard him say that while he was in Sebastopol he +got a letter from his young woman at home. She said she hoped he would +take Mentschikoff prisoner, and send her home a button off his coat." + +"Well?" + +"The letter was read by the Russian authorities before they gave it +him, and some one told the general what the English girl had said." + +"He got mad, I suppose?" + +"Not at all. He sent on the letter to its destination, with a note of +his own, presenting his compliments, and regrets that he could not +allow himself to be taken prisoner, but saying that he had much +pleasure in inclosing the button, for transmission to England." + +"A regular old brick, and no mistake! We'll drink his health." + +It was drunk with full honours, after which Hyde, finding the party +inclined to be rather too noisy, got up to go. + +"Here!" he cried out, "some of you. What have I got to pay? Hurry up, +my dusky duchess; I want to be off. Come, don't keep me waiting all +day," and he struck the table impatiently with his riding-whip. + +Mother Charcoal's assistant, "the imp," ran up. + +"How much?" + +"One dollar: four shilling," said the lad, in broken English. + +"There's your money!" cried Hyde, throwing it down, "and a 'bob' for +yourself. Stop!" he added. "Who and what are you? I have seen you +before." + +The lad, a mere boy, frail-looking and slightly built, but with a +handsome, rather effeminate-looking face, tried to slink away. + +"What's your name?" went on Hyde. + +"Pongo," replied the boy. + +"That's no real name. Smacks of the West Coast of Africa. Who gave it +you?" + +"Mother Charcoal." + +"What's your country? What language do you talk?" + +"English." + +"Monstrous little of that, my boy. What's your native lingo, I mean? +Greek, Turkish, Italian, Coptic--what?" + +"Spanish," the boy confessed, in a low voice. + +Hyde looked at him very intently for a few seconds; then, without +further remark, walked out with his French friend. + +But he did not do more than say good-bye outside the shanty; and, +leaving his horse still hitched up near the door, he presently +re-entered the canteen. + +The place had emptied considerably, and he was able to take his seat +again in a corner without attracting much attention. For half-an-half +or more he watched this boy, who seemed to interest him so much. + +"There's not a doubt of it. I must know what it means," and he +beckoned the "imp" towards him. + +"How did you get to the Crimea?" he asked, abruptly, speaking in +excellent Spanish, when the lad, shyly and most reluctantly, came up +to him. "What brings you here? I must and will know. It is very wrong. +This is no place for you." + +"I came to save him; he is in pressing danger," said the boy, whose +large eyes were now filled with tears. + +"Does he know you are in the Crimea?" + +"I have been unable to find him. I lost all my money; it was stolen +from me directly I landed, and, if I had not found this place with the +black woman, I should have starved." + +"Poor child! Alone and unprotected in this terrible place. It was +sheer madness your coming." + +"But I could tell him in no other way." + +"Tell him what?" + +"He has two bitter and implacable enemies, who are sworn to take his +life." + +Hyde shook his head gravely. + +"It is true, as Heaven is my witness--perfectly true. But read this if +you doubt me," and the boy, who was no other than Mariquita in +disguise, produced the scrap of paper she had picked up in the shop in +Bombardier Lane. + +"I did not doubt your words. I was thinking of those enemies--one of +them, at least--and wondering why she is permitted to live." + +He took the letter, and read it slowly. + +"Her handwriting! I was sure of it. To whom was this addressed?" + +"Benito Villegas. Perhaps you know him--he is a native of the Rock." + +"I remember him years ago. And has he carried out these instructions? +Is he here?" + +"I cannot make out. I have looked for him, but have been unable to +find him." + +"Not at the address stated here? You have been to it?" + +"Several times, but have never seen him." + +"He is probably in some disguise; that would suit his purpose best. We +will hunt him up, never fear. But Stanislas must first be warned." + +"You will go to him--at once?" + +"This very day. And you--won't you come too?" + +"No, no! I cannot." Mariquita blushed crimson. "He would chide me. It +is wrong, I know; I have no right to be here, but he was in such +danger. I risked everything: his displeasure, my life, my good name." + +"Yes," said Hyde, thoughtfully; "this is no place for you; it is a +pity you came to it. Still, we should not have known but for you; as +it is, you had better stay here." + +"With Mother Charcoal?" + +"Just so. She is a worthy old soul, and can be trusted. It will be +best, I think, to tell her the exact state of the case. Leave that to +me." + +"You will not delay in warning Stanislas?" said Mariquita, placing her +hand on his arm. + +"No; I will go directly after I have spoken to our black friend. Be +easy in your mind, little woman, or Senor Pongo, or whatever you like +to be called, and expect to see me again, and perhaps some one else +you know, within a day or two from now." + +Fate, however, decreed that Hyde should be unavoidably delayed in his +errand of warning. + +On leaving Mother Charcoal's shanty the second time, he found that his +horse had disappeared. It had been hitched up to a hook near the +doorway, in company with several others, and all were now gone. + +"Some mistake? Scarcely that. One of those rascally sailor thieves, +rather; not a four-footed beast is safe from them. What a nuisance it +is! I suppose I must walk back to camp." + +What chafed Hyde most was the delay in getting to headquarters. He had +already made up his mind to find McKay as soon as he could, and tell +him exactly what had occurred. + +"He will, of course, think first of Mariquita; but that matter can be +easily settled. We will send her on board one of the hospital-ships, +where she will be with nurses of her own sex. What is really urgent is +that McKay should look to himself. We must manage, through his +interest and authority, to make a thorough search for this villain +Benito, and get him expelled from the Crimea. That would make McKay +safe, if only for a time, although I suppose Cyprienne would soon +devise some new and more diabolical scheme. If I could only get on a +little faster! It is most annoying about the horse. I will go straight +to headquarters on foot, taking the camp of the Naval Brigade on my +way." + +There was wisdom in this last resolution. The sailors' camp was the +Crimean pound. All animals lost or strayed, or, more exactly, stolen, +if the truth is to be told, found their way to it. Jack did a large +business in horseflesh. Often enough a man, having traced his missing +property, was obliged to buy it back for a few shillings, or a glass +or two of grog. + +It was a general joke in the Crimea that the infantry were better +mounted than the cavalry, and that the sailors had the pick of the +infantry horses. + +"I suppose I must go to the sailors' camp, but it's rather out of my +road," said Hyde, as he trudged along under the hot sun. + +Many more fortunate comrades, all mounted, overtook and passed him on +the way. Each time he heard the sound of hoofs his rage increased +against the dishonest rogue who had robbed him of his pony. + +"Like a lift, guv'ner?" said a voice behind him. "You shall have this +tit chape. Half a sov., money down." + +Hyde turned, and saw a blue-jacket astride of the missing pony. + +"Buy it, you rascal! why it belongs to me! Where did you get it?" + +"I found it, yer honour." + +"Stole it, you mean. Get off this instant, or I'll give you up to the +provost!" And, so saying, Hyde put out his hand to seize the reins. + +"Avast heaving there, commodore," said Jack, digging his heels into +the horse, and lifting it cleverly just out of Hyde's reach. "Who +finds keeps. Pay up, or you shan't have him. Why, I deserve a pound +for looking after the dumb baste." + +Hyde looked around for help, but no one was in sight. He was not to be +baulked, however, and made a fresh attempt to get alongside the pony. +But each time the sailor forged a little ahead, and this tantalising +game continued for half-an-hour. + +At last, disgusted and despairing, Hyde thought it better to make +terms. He was losing valuable time. + +"I give in, you rogue! Pull up, and you shall have your money." + +"Honour bright, guv'ner?" + +"Here it is," said Hyde, taking out the money. + +"It's a fair swap. Hand over the money." + +"No; you give up the pony first." + +"I shan't. That's not my way of doing business." + +"You shall!" cried Hyde, who had been edging up towards the sailor, +and now suddenly made a grab at his leg. + +He caught it, and held it with an iron grip. But Jack was not disposed +to yield quietly. With a loud oath, he struck viciously at the pony's +side with his disengaged foot. + +It was a lively little beast, and went off at once, Hyde still +clinging tenaciously to his prey. + +But Jack was determined not to be beaten. With one hand he tried to +beat off Hyde, and with the other incited the pony to increase its +pace. + +In the end Hyde was thrown to the ground, and received two nasty +kicks--one in the forehead, the other in the breast--from the heels of +the excited horse. + +The sailor got clear away, and our friend Hyde was picked up senseless +half-an-hour later by a passing ambulance-cart, and carried back to +camp. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE THIN RED LINE. + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SECRET SERVICE. + + +McKay, on returning to the Crimea, had resumed his duties at +headquarters. He was complimented by Lord Raglan and General Airey on +the manner in which he had performed his mission. + +"Matters have improved considerably in the month or two you were +absent," said the latter to him one day. "Thanks to the animals you +got us, we have been able to bring up sufficient shot and shell." + +"When is the new bombardment to take place, sir?" + +"At once." + +"And the attack?" + +"I cannot tell you. Some of the French generals are altogether against +assaulting the fortress. They would prefer operations in the open +field." + +"What do they want, sir?" + +"They would like to divide the whole allied forces into three distinct +armies: one to remain and guard the trenches, another to go round by +sea, so as to cut the Russian communications; and the third, when this +is completed, to attack the Mackenzie heights, and get in at the back +of the fortress." + +"It seems rather a wild plan, sir." + +"I agree with you--wild and impossible." + +"Does the French commander-in-chief approve of it, sir?" + +"General Canrobert does; but I think we have nearly seen the last of +him. I expect any day to hear that he has given up the command." + +"Who will succeed him, sir?" + +"Pelissier, I believe--a very different sort of man, as we shall see." + +A few days later the change which has already been referred to took +place, and Marshal Pelissier came over to the English headquarters to +take part in a council of war. All the principal general officers of +both armies were present, and so was McKay, whose perfect acquaintance +with French made him useful in interpreting and facilitating the free +interchange of ideas. + +The new French commander-in-chief was a prominent figure at the +council--a short, stout, hard-featured man, brusque in movements and +abrupt in speech; a man of much decision of character, one who made up +his mind quickly, was intolerant of all opposition, and doggedly +determined to force his will upon others. + +When it came to the turn of the French generals to speak, one of them +began a long protest against the attack as too hazardous. Several +others brought forward pet schemes of their own for reducing the +place. + +"Enough!" said Pelissier, peremptorily. "You are not brought here to +discuss whether or how we should attack. That point is already settled +by my lord and myself." + +He looked at Lord Raglan, who bowed assent. + +"We have decided to attack the outworks on the 7th of the month." + +"But I dissent," began General Bosquet. + +"Did you not hear me? I tell you we have decided to attack. You are +only called together to arrange how it can best be carried out." + +"I have a paper here in which I have argued out the principles on +which an attack should be conducted," said another, General Niel, an +engineer. + +"Ah!" said Pelissier, "you gentlemen are very clever--I admit your +scientific knowledge--but when I want your advice I will ask for it." + +While this conversation was in progress, the English officers present +were whispering amongst themselves with undisguised satisfaction at +finding that the new commander-in-chief of the French, unlike his +predecessor, was well able to keep his subordinates in order; and, +all useless discussion having been cut short, the plan of attack was +soon arranged. + +"Well," said Lord Raglan, "it is all clear. We shall begin by a heavy +cannonade." + +"To last four-and-twenty-hours," said Pelissier, "and then the +assault." + +"At what hour?" asked Lord Raglan. + +"Daylight, of course!" cried two or three French generals in a breath. + +"One moment," interposed General Airey. "Day-break is the time of all +others that the enemy would expect an attack; they would therefore be +best prepared for it then." + +A sharp argument followed, and lasted several minutes, each side +clinging tenaciously to its own opinion. + +"Do not waste your energies, gentlemen," said Marshal Pelissier, again +interfering decidedly. "Lord Raglan and I have settled that matter for +ourselves. The attack will take place at five o'clock in the +afternoon. That will allow time for us to get established in the +enemy's works in the night after we have carried them." + +"Of course, gentlemen," said Lord Raglan, in breaking up the council, +"you will all understand the importance of secrecy. Not a word of what +has passed here must be repeated outside. It would be fatal to success +if the enemy got any inkling of our intentions." + +"It's quite extraordinary," said General Airey to McKay and a few +more, as they passed out from the council-chamber, "how the enemy gets +his information." + +"Those newspaper correspondents, I suspect, are responsible," said +another general. "They let out everything, and the news, directly it +is printed, is telegraphed to Russia." + +"That does not entirely explain it. They must be always several weeks +behind. I am referring more particularly to what happens at the +moment. Everything appears to be immediately known." + +"Why, only the other day a Russian spy walked coolly through our +second parallel," said a French officer, "and counted the number of +the guns. He passed himself off as an English traveller." + +"Great impudence, but great pluck. I wish we had men who would do the +same. That's what I complain of. We want a better organised secret +service, and men like Wellington's famous Captain Grant in the +Peninsular War, bold, adroit, and quick-witted, ready to run any +risks, but bound to get information in the long run. I wish I could +lay my hands on a few Captain Grants." + +McKay smarted under the sting of these reproaches, feeling they +applied, although scarcely so intended, to him. But there was no man, +after all, on the headquarter staff better fitted to remove them. With +his enterprising spirit and intimate acquaintance with many tongues, +he ought to be able to secure information that would be useful to his +chiefs. + +Full of this idea, he rode down that afternoon to Balaclava, the +centre of all the rascaldom that had gathered around the base of the +Crimean army. He was in search of agents whom he could employ as +emissaries into the enemy's lines. + +Putting up his horse, he mixed amongst the motley crowd that thronged +the "sutlers' town," as it was called, which had sprung up half-a-mile +outside Balaclava, to accommodate the swarms of strangers who, under +the strict rule of Colonel Harding, had been expelled from the port +itself. + +The place was like a fair--a jumble of huts and shanties and ragged +canvas tents, with narrow, irregular lanes between them, in which the +polyglot traders bought and sold. Here were grave Armenians, scampish +Greeks from the Levant, wild-eyed Bedouins, Tartars from Asia Minor, +evil-visaged Italians, scowling Spaniards, hoarse-voiced, slouching +Whitechapel ruffians, with a well-developed talent for dealing in +stolen goods. + +As McKay stood watching the curious scene, and replying rather curtly +to the eager salesmen, who pestered him perpetually to buy anything +and everything--food, saddlery, pocket-knives, horse-shoes, fire-arms, +and swords--he became conscious of a stir and flutter among the crowd. +It presently became strangely silent, and parted obsequiously, to +give passage to some great personage who approached. + +This was Major Shervinton, the provost-marshal, supreme master and +autocrat of all camp-followers, whom he ruled with an iron hand. Close +behind him came two sturdy assistants--men who had once been drummers, +and were specially selected in an army where flogging was the chief +punishment for their prowess with the cat-o'-nine-tales. + +Woe to the sutler, whatever his rank or nation, who fell foul of the +terrible provost! Summary arrest, the briefest trial, and a sharp +sentence peremptorily executed, in the shape of four dozen, was the +certain treatment of all who offended against martial law. + +"Hullo, McKay!" cried Shervinton, a big, burly, pleasant-faced man, +whose cheery manner was in curious contrast with his formidable +functions. "What brings a swell from headquarters into this den of +iniquity? Lost your servant, or looking out for one? Don't engage any +one without asking me. They are an abominable lot, and deserve to be +hanged, all of them." + +"You are the very fellow to help me, Shervinton," and McKay, taking +the provost-marshal aside, told him his errand. + +"I firmly believe every second man here is a spy, or would be if he +had the pluck." + +"Are any of them, do you think, in communication with the Russians?" + +"Lots. They come and go through the lines, I believe, as they please." + +"I wish I could find a few fellows of this sort." + +"Perhaps I can put you in the way; only I doubt whether you can trust +to a single word that they will tell you." + +"But where shall we come upon them?" + +"The best plan will be to consult Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at +the end of the lines. I have always suspected him of being a Russian +spy; but I dare say we could buy him over if you want him. If he tries +to play us false we will hang him the same day." + +Valetta Joe was in his bread-store--a small shed communicating with +the dark, dirty, semi-subterranean cellar behind, in which the dough +was kneaded and baked. The shed was encumbered with barrels of +inferior flour, and all around upon shelves lay the small short rolls, +dark-looking and sour-tasting, which were sold in the camp for a +shilling a piece. + +"Well, Joe, what's the news from Sebastopol to-day?" asked Shervinton. + +"Why you ask me, sare? I a poor Maltee baker--sell bread, make money. +Have nothing to do with fight." + +"You rascal! You know you're in league with the Russians. I have had +my eye on you this long time. Some of these days we'll be down upon +you like a cart-load of bricks." + +"You a very hard man, Major Shervinton, sare--very unkind to poor Joe. +I offer you bread every day for nothing; you say No. Why not take +Joe's bread?" + +"Because Joe's a scoundrel to offer it. Do you suppose I am to be +bribed in that way? But here: I tell you what we are after. This +gentleman," pointing to McKay, "wants news from the other side." + +"Why you come to me? I nothing to do with other side." + +"You can help him, you know that, and you must; or we will bundle you +out of this and send you back to Constantinople." + +The provost-marshal's manner was not to be mistaken. + +"What can I do, sare?" + +"Find out some one who can pass through the lines and bring or send +him to my friend." + +"Who is this gentleman?" + +"He is one of Lord Raglan's staff; his name is Mr. McKay." + +A close observer would have seen that the baker started slightly at +the name and that he bent an eager, inquisitive look upon McKay. + +"Will the gentleman give promise to do no harm to me or my people?" + +"So long as you behave properly,--yes." + +"I think I know some one, then." + +"Produce him at once." + +"He not here to-day; out selling bread. Where he find you, sare, +to-morrow, or any time he have anything to tell?" + +"Let him come to the headquarters and ask for my tent," said McKay. +"There is my name on a piece of paper; if he shows that to the sentry +they will let him through." + +"Very good, sare; you wait and see." + +"No humbug, mind, Joe; or I'll be down on you!" added the +provost-marshal. "Is that all you want, McKay?" + +Our hero expressed himself quite satisfied, and, with many thanks to +the provost-marshal, he remounted and rode away. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +AMONG THE COSSACKS. + + +McKay was in His tent next morning finishing dressing when his servant +brought him a piece of crumpled paper and said there was a messenger +waiting to see him. The paper was the pass given the day before to +Valetta Joe; its bearer was a nondescript-looking ruffian, in a long +shaggy cloak of camel's hair, whose open throat and bare legs hinted +at a great scantiness of wardrobe beneath. He wore an old red fez, +stained purple, on the back of his bullet-head; he had a red, freckled +face, red eyebrows, red eyes, red hair, and a pointed red beard, both +of which were very ragged and unkempt. + +"Have you got anything to tell me?" asked McKay, sharply, in English; +and when the other shook his head he tried him in French, Spanish, +and last of all in Italian. + +"News," replied the visitor, at length, laconically; "ten dollars." + +McKay put the money in his hand and was told briefly-- + +"To-morrow--sortie--Woronzoff Road." + +And this was all the fellow would say. + +McKay passed on this information to his chief, but rather doubtfully, +declining to vouch for it, or say whence it had come. + +It was felt, however, that no harm could be done in accepting the news +as true and preparing for a Russian attack. The event proved the +wisdom of this course. The sortie was made next night. A Russian +column of considerable strength advanced some distance along the +Woronzoff Road, but finding the English on the alert immediately +retired. + +The next piece of information that reached McKay from the same source, +but by a different messenger, was more readily credited. He learnt +this time that the Russians intended to establish a new kind of +battery in front of the Karabel suburb. + +"What kind?" asked McKay. + +The messenger, a hungry-looking Tartar who spoke broken English, but +when encouraged explained himself freely in Russian, said-- + +"Big guns; they sink one end deep into the ground, the other point +very high." + +"I understand. They want to give great elevation, so as to increase +the range." + +"Yes, you see. They will reach right into your camp." + +Again the information proved correct. Within a couple of days the +camps of the Third and Fourth Divisions, hitherto deemed safe from the +fire of the fortress, were disturbed by the whistling of round-shot in +their midst. The fact was reported in due course to headquarters. + +"You see, sir, it is just what I was told," said McKay to General +Airey. + +"Upon my word, you deserve great credit. You seem to have organised an +intelligence department of your own, and, what is more to the purpose, +your fellow seems always right." + +McKay was greatly gratified at this encouragement, and eager to be +still more useful. He visited the Maltese baker again, and urged him +to continue supplying him with news. + +"Trust to Joe. Wait one little bit; you know plenty more." + +Several days passed, however, without any fresh news. Then a new +messenger came, another Tartar, a very old man with a flowing grey +beard, wearing a long caftan like a dressing-gown to his heels, and an +enormous sheepskin cap that came far down over his eyes, and almost +hid his face. He seemed very decrepit, and was excessively stupid, +probably from old age. He looked terribly frightened when brought to +McKay's tent, stooping his shoulders and hanging his head in the +cowering, deprecating attitude of one who expects, but would not dare +to ward off, a blow. + +He was tongue-tied, for he made no attempt to speak, but merely thrust +forward one hand, making a deep obeisance with the other. There was a +scrap of paper in the extended hand, which McKay took and opened +curiously. A few lines in Italian were scrawled on it. + +"The Russians are collecting large forces beyond the Tchernaya," ran +the message. "Expect a new attack on that side." + +"Who gave you this?" asked McKay, in Russian. + +The old fellow bowed low, but made no answer. + +He repeated the question in Italian and every other language of which +he was master, but obtained no reply. The man remained stupidly, +idiotically dumb, only grovelling lower and more abjectly each time. + +"What an old jackass he is! I shall get nothing out of him, I'm +afraid. But it won't do to despise the message, wherever it comes +from. Take him outside," he said to his orderly, "while I go and see +the general." "You have no idea where this news comes from?" was +General Airey's first inquiry. + +"The same source, I don't doubt; but of course I can't vouch for its +accuracy." + +"It might be very important," the general was musing. "I am not sure +whether you know what we contemplate in these next few days?" + +"In the direction of the Tchernaya, sir?" + +"Precisely. Now that the Sardinian troops have all arrived, Lord +Raglan thinks we are strong enough to extend our position as far as +the river." + +"I had heard nothing of it, sir?" + +"If this news be true, the Russians appear to be better informed than +you are, McKay." + +"And are preparing to oppose our movement?" + +"That's just what I should like to know, and what gives so much +importance to these tidings. I only wish we could verify them. Where +is your messenger? Who is he?" + +"A half-witted old Tartar; you will get nothing out of him, sir. I +have been trying hard this half-hour." + +"But you know where the news comes from. Could you not follow it up to +its source?" + +"I will do so at once, sir;" and within half-an-hour McKay was in his +saddle, riding down to Balaclava. + +Valetta Joe was in his shop, distributing a batch of newly-baked bread +to a number of itinerant vendors, each bound to retail the loaves in +the various camps. + +McKay waited until the place was clear, then accosted the baker +sharply. + +"What was the good of your sending that old numbskull to me?" + +"He give you letter. You not understand?" + +"Yes, yes, I understand; but I want to be certain it is true." + +"When Joe tell lies? You believe him before; if you like, believe him +again." + +"But can't you tell me more about it? How many troops have the +Russians collected? Since when? What do they mean to do?" + +"You ask Russian general, not me; I only know what I hear." + +"But it would be possible to tell, from the position of the enemy, +something of their intentions. I could directly if I saw them." + +"Then why you not go and look for yourself?" asked Joe, carelessly; +but there was a glitter in his eyes which gave a deep meaning to the +simple question. + +"Why not?" said McKay, whom the look had escaped. "It is well worth +the risk." + +"I'll help you, if you like," went on Joe, with the same outwardly +unconcerned manner. + +"Can you? How?" + +"Very easy to pass lines. You put on Tartar clothes same as that old +man go to you to-day. He live near Tchorgaun; he take you right into +middle of Russian camp." + +"When can he start?" asked McKay eagerly, accepting without hesitation +all the risks of this perilous undertaking. + +"To-night, if you choose. Come down here by-and-by; I have everything +ready." + +McKay agreed, and returned to headquarters in all haste, where he +sought out his chief and confided to him his intentions. + +"You are really prepared to penetrate the enemy's lines? It will be a +daring, dangerous job, McKay. I should be wrong to encourage you." + +"It is of vital importance, you say, that we should really know what +the enemy is doing beyond the Tchernaya. I am quite ready to go, sir." + +"Lord Raglan--all of us--indeed, will be greatly indebted to you if +you can find out. But I do not like this idea of the disguise, McKay. +You ought not to go under false colours." + +"I should probably learn more." + +"Yes; but do you know what your fate would be if you were discovered?" + +"I suppose I should be hanged, sir," said McKay, simply. + +"Hanged or shot. Spies--everyone out of uniform is a spy--get a very +short shrift at an enemy's hand. No; you must stick to your legitimate +dress. I am sure Lord Raglan would allow you to go under no other +conditions." + +"As you wish, sir. Only I fear I should not be so useful as if I were +disguised." + +"It is my order," said the general, briefly; and after that there was +nothing more to be said. + +McKay spent the rest of the afternoon at his usual duties, and towards +evening, having carefully reloaded his revolver, and filled his +pockets with Russian rouble notes, which he obtained on purpose from +the military chest, he mounted a tough little Tartar pony, used +generally by his servant, and trotted down to the hut-town. + +Valetta Joe heard with marked disapprobation McKay's intention of +carrying out his enterprise without assuming disguise. + +"You better stay at home: not go very far like that." + +"Lend me a _greggo_ to throw over my coat, and a sheepskin cap, and I +shall easily pass the Cossack sentries. Where is my guide?" + +"Seelim--Jee!" shouted Joe, and the old gentleman who had visited +McKay that morning came ambling up from the cellar below. + +"Is that old idiot to go with me? Why, he speaks no known tongue!" +cried McKay. + +"Only Tartar. You know no Tartar? Well, he understand the stick. Show +it him--so," and Joe made a motion of striking the old man, who bent +submissively to receive the blow. + +"Does he know where he is to take me? What we are going to do?" + +"All right. You trust him: he take you past Cossacks." Joe muttered a +few unintelligible instructions to the guide, who received them with +deep respect, making a low bow, first to Joe and then to McKay. + +"I give him _greggo_ and cap: you put them on when you like." + +McKay knew that he could only pass the British sentries openly, +showing his uniform as a staff officer, so he made the guide carry the +clothes, and the two pressed forward together through Kadikoi, towards +the formidable line of works that now covered Balaclava. + +He skirted the flank of one of the redoubts, and, passing beyond the +intrenchments, came at length to our most advanced posts, a line of +cavalry vedettes, stationed at a considerable distance apart. + +"I am one of the headquarter staff," he said, briefly, to the sergeant +commanding the picket, "and have to make a short reconnaissance +towards Kamara. You understand?" + +"Are we to support you, sir?" + +"No; but look out for my coming back. It may not be till daybreak, but +it will be as well, perhaps, to tell your men who I am, and to expect +me. I don't want to be shot on re-entering our own lines." + +"Never fear, sir, so long as we know. I will tell the officer, and +make it all right." + +McKay now rode slowly on, his guide at his horse's head. They kept in +the valleys, already, as night was now advancing, deep in shade, and +their figures, which could have been clearly made out against the sky +if on the upper slopes, were nearly invisible on the lower ground. + +It was a splendid summer's evening, perfectly still and peaceful, with +no sounds abroad but the ceaseless chirp of innumerable grasshoppers, +and the faint hum of buzzing insects ever on the wing. Only at +intervals were strange sounds wafted on the breeze, and told their own +story; the distant blare of trumpets, and the occasional "thud" of +heavy cannon, gun answering gun between besiegers and besieged. As +they fared along, McKay once or twice inquired, more by gesture than +by voice, how far they had to go. + +Each time the guide replied by a single word--"Cossack"--spoken almost +in a whisper, and following by his placing finger on lip. + +Half-a-mile further, the guide motioned to McKay to dismount and leave +his horse, repeating the caution "Cossack!" in the same low tone of +voice. + +McKay, who had now put on the _greggo_ and sheepskin cap, did as he +was asked, and the two crept forward together, having left the horse +tethered to a bush, the guide explaining by signs that they would +presently come back to it. + +A little farther and he placed his hand upon McKay's arms, with a +motion to halt. + +"H--sh!" said the old man, using a sound which has the same meaning in +all tongues, and held up a finger. + +McKay listened attentively, and heard voices approaching them. +Instinctively he drew his revolver and waited events. The voices grew +plainer and plainer, then gradually faded away. + +"Cossack!" repeated the guide, and McKay gathered that these were a +couple of Cossack sentries, from whose clutches he had narrowly +escaped. + +Again our hero was urged forward, and this time with all speed. The +guide ran, followed by McKay, for a couple of hundred yards, then +halted suddenly. What next? He had thrown himself on the ground, and +seemed closely examining it; in this attitude he crept forward +cautiously. + +The movement was presently explained. A slight splash told of water +encountered. He had been in search of the river, and had found it. +This was the Tchernaya--a slow sluggish stream, hidden amidst long +marshy grass, and everywhere fordable, as McKay had heard, at this +season of the year. + +The guide now stood up and pointed to the river, motioning McKay to +enter it and cross. + +Our hero stepped in boldly, and in all good faith, expecting his guide +to follow. But he was half-way towards the other bank, and still the +old man had made no move. + +Why this hesitation? + +McKay beckoned to him to come on. The guide advanced a step or two, +then halted irresolute. + +McKay grew impatient, and repeated his motion more peremptorily. The +guide advanced another step and again halted. He seemed to suffer from +an invincible dislike to cold water. + +"Is he a cur or a traitor?" McKay asked himself, and drew his +revolver to quicken the old man's movements, whichever he was. + +The sight of the weapon seemed to throw the guide into a paroxysm of +fear. He fell flat on the ground, and obstinately refused to move. + +All this time McKay was in the river, up to his knees, a position not +particularly comfortable. Besides, valuable time was being wasted--the +night was not too long for what he had to do. Hastily regaining the +bank, he rejoined the guide where he lay, and kicked him till he stood +erect. + +"You old scoundrel!" cried McKay, putting his revolver to his head. +"Come on! do you understand? Come on, or you are a dead man!" + +The gesture was threatening, not that McKay had any thought of firing. +He knew a pistol-shot would raise a general alarm. Still the old man, +although trembling in every limb, would not move. + +"Come on!" repeated McKay, and with the idea of dragging him forward +he seized him fiercely by the beard. + +To his intense surprise, it came off in his hand. + +"Cursed Englishman!" cried a voice with which he was perfectly +familiar, and in Spanish. "You are at my mercy now. You dare not fire; +your life is forfeited. The enemy is all around you. I have betrayed +you into their hands." + +"Benito! Can it be possible?" But McKay did not suffer his +astonishment to interfere with his just revenge. + +"On your knees, dog! Say your prayers. I will shoot you first, +whatever happens to me." + +"You are too late!" cried Benito, wrenching himself from his grasp, +and whistling shrilly as he ran away. + +McKay fired three shots at him in succession, one of which must have +told, for the scoundrel gave a great yell of pain. + +The next instant McKay was surrounded by a mob of Cossacks and quickly +made prisoner. + +They had evidently been waiting for him, and the whole enterprise was +a piece of premeditated treachery, as boldly executed as it had been +craftily planned. + +McKay's captors having searched his pockets with the nimbleness of +London thieves, and deprived him of money, watch, and all his +possessions, proceeded to handle him very roughly. He had fought and +struggled desperately, but was easily overpowered. They were twenty to +one, and their wild blood was aroused by his resistance. He was +beaten, badly mauled, and thrown to the ground, where a number of them +held him hand and foot, whilst others produced ropes to bind him fast. +The brutal indignities to which he was subjected made McKay wild with +rage. He addressed them in their own language, protesting vainly +against such shameful ill-usage. + +"Hounds! Miscreants! Sons of burnt mothers! Do you dare to treat an +English officer thus? Take me before your superior. Is there no one +here in authority? I claim his protection." + +"Which you don't deserve, scurvy rogue," said a quiet voice. "You are +no officer--only a vile, disreputable spy." + +"I can prove to you--" + +"Bah! how well you speak Russian. We know all about you; we expected +you. But enough: we must be going on." + +"I don't know who you may be," began McKay, hotly, "but I shall +complain of you to your superior officer." + +"Silence!" replied the other, haughtily. "Have I not told you to hold +your tongue? Fill his mouth with clay, some of you, and bring him +along." + +This fresh outrage nearly maddened McKay. + +"You shall carry me, then," he spluttered out, from where he still lay +upon the ground. + +"Ah! we'll see. Get up, will you! Prick him with the point of your +lance, Ivanovich. Come, move yourself," added the officer, as McKay +slowly yielded to this painful persuasion, "move yourself, or you +shall feel this," and the officer cracked the long lash of his +riding-whip. + +"You shall answer for this barbarity," said McKay "I demand to be +taken before the General at once." + +"You shall see him, never fear, sooner than you might wish, perhaps." + +"Take me at once before him; I am not afraid." + +"You will wait till it suits us, dog; meanwhile, lie there." + +They had reached a rough shelter built of mud and long reeds. It was +the picket-house, the headquarters of the troop of Cossacks, and a +number of them were lying and hanging about, their horses tethered +close by. + +The officer pointed to a corner of the hut, and, giving peremptory +instructions to a couple of sentries to watch the prisoner, for whom +they would have to answer with their lives, he disappeared. + +Greatly dejected and cast down at the failure of his enterprise, and +in acute physical pain from his recent ill-usage and the tightness of +his bonds, McKay passed the rest of the night very miserably. + +Dawn came at length, but with it no relief. On the contrary, daylight +aggravated his sufferings. He could see now the cruel scowling visages +of his captors, and the indescribable filth and squalor of the den in +which he lay. + +"Get up!" cried a voice; but McKay was too much dazed and distracted +by all he had endured to understand that the command was addressed to +him. + +It was repeated more arrogantly, and accompanied by a brutal kick. + +He rose slowly and reluctantly, and asked in a sullen voice-- + +"Where are you taking me?" + +"Before his Excellency. Step out, or must we prick you along?" + +A march of half-an-hour under a strong escort brought them to a large +camp. They passed through many lines of tents, and halted presently +before a smart marquee. + +The Cossack officer in charge entered it, and presently returned with +the order-- + +"March him in!" + +McKay found himself in the presence of a broadly-built, middle-aged +man, in the long grey great-coat worn by all ranks of the Russian +army, from highest to lowest, and the flat, circular-topped cap +carried also by all. There was nothing to indicate the rank of this +personage but a small silver ornament on each shoulder-strap, and +another in the centre of the cap. At a button-hole on his breast, +however, was a small parti-coloured rosette, the simple record of +orders and insignia too precious to carry in the field. + +There was unbounded arrogance and contempt in his voice and manner as +he addressed the prisoner, who might have been the vilest of created +things. + +"So"--he spoke in French, like most well-educated Russians of that +day, to show their aristocratic superiority--"you have dared, wretch, +to thrust yourself into the bear's mouth! You shall be hanged in +half-an-hour." + +"I claim to be treated as a prisoner of war," said McKay, boldly. + +"You! impudent rogue! A low camp-follower! A sneaking, skulking +spy--taken in the very act! You!" + +"I am a British officer!" went on McKay, stoutly. He was not to be +browbeaten or abashed. + +"Where is your uniform?" + +"Here!" replied McKay, throwing open the _greggo_, which he still +wore, and showing the red waistcoat beneath, and the black breeches +with their broad red stripe. + +"You said he was a civilian in Tartar disguise," said the +general,--for such was the officer's rank,--turning to one of his +staff and seeming rather staggered at McKay's announcement. He spoke +in Russian. + +"Take care, Excellency; the prisoner speaks Russian." + +"Is that so?" said the general to McKay. "An unusual accomplishment +that, in English officers, I expect." + +"Yes, I am acquainted with Russian," said McKay. Why should he deny +it? They had heard him use that language at the time of his capture. + +"How and when did you learn it?" + +"I do not choose to say. What can that matter?" + +Again the staff-officer interposed and whispered something in the +general's ear. + +"Of course; I had forgotten." Then, turning to McKay, he went on: +"What is your name?" + +"McKay." + +"Your Christian names in full?" + +"Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay." + +"Exactly. Stanislas Alexandrovich McKay. I knew your father when he +was a captain in the Polish Lancers; was he not?" + +"I cannot deny it." + +"He was a Russian, in the service of our holy Czar, and you, his son, +are a Russian too." + +"It is false! I am an Englishman. I have never yielded allegiance to +the Czar." + +"You will find it hard to evade your responsibility. It is not to be +put on or off like a coat. You were born a Russian subject, and a +Russian subject you remain!" + +"I bear a commission in the army of the British Queen. I dare you to +treat me as a Russian now!" + +"We will treat you as we find you, Mr. McKay: as an interloper +disguised for an improper purpose within our lines." + +"What shall you do with me?" asked McKay, in a firm voice, but with a +sinking heart. + +"Hang you like a dog to the nearest tree. Or, stay! out of respect for +your father, whom I knew, and if you prefer it, you shall be shot." + +"I am in your power. But I warn you that, if you execute me, the +merciless act will be remembered throughout Europe as an eternal +disgrace to the Russian arms." + +This bold speech was not without its effect. The general consulted +with his staff, and a rather animated discussion followed, at the end +of which he said-- + +"I am not to be deterred by any such threats: still, it will be better +to refer your case to my superiors. I shall send you into Sebastopol, +to be dealt with as Prince Gortschakoff may think fit, only do not +expect more at his hands than at mine. Rope or rifle--one of them will +be your fate. See he is sent off, Colonel Golopine, will you? And now +take him away." + +McKay was marched out of the marquee, still under the escort of +Cossacks. But outside he was presently handed over to a fresh party; +they brought up a shaggy pony--it might have been the fellow of the +one he had left behind the previous night--and curtly bade him mount. +When, with hands still tied, he scrambled with difficulty into his +saddle, they tied his legs together by a long rope under the pony's +belly, and, placing him in the centre of the escort, they started off +at a jog-trot in the direction of the town. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A PURVEYOR OF NEWS. + + +Mr. Hobson gave his address at Duke Street, St. James's, a +lodging-house frequented by gentlemen from the neighbouring clubs. But +he was never there except asleep. There was nothing strange in this as +none of the occupants of the house were much there, except at +night-time--they lived at their clubs. + +So, for all the landlady knew, did Mr. Hobson. But we know better. He +had no club, and his daily absence from breakfast--simply a cup of +coffee and a roll, which he took in the French fashion, early--till +late at night was to be accounted for by his constant presence at his +office or place of business, although it was both and neither. This +was in a little street off Bloomsbury, the first floor over a +newspaper shop. + +Mr. Hobson passed here as an agent for a country paper. It was +supposed to be his business to collect and transmit news to his +principals at a large seaport town on the East Coast. These were days +before the present development of newspaper enterprise, when leading +provincial journals have their own London offices and a private wire. +Mr. Hobson's principles were very liberal according to the idea of +that time; they seemed to grudge no expense with regard to the +transmission of news. + +Telegrams were costly things in those days, but Mr. Hobson sometimes +sent off half-a-dozen in the course of a morning. He was served too, +and exceedingly well, by special agents of his own, who came to him at +all hours--in cabs driven recklessly, or on foot, in a stealthy, +apologetic way, as though doubtful whether the news they brought would +be acceptable. + +The office upstairs bore out the notion of the news-agency. Its chief +furniture consisted of two long, sloping tables, on which lay files of +daily papers. There was one big book-case handy near the fireplace, +and over the desk at which Mr. Hobson sat. On the shelves of this were +ranged a couple of dozen volumes, each bearing a label on which were +various letters and numerals. + +On the desk itself were the usual writing appliances, a large pair of +scissors, and a wide-mouthed bottle of gum. + +Let us look in at Mr. Hobson on his first arrival at his office, soon +after eight o'clock. + +His first business was to ring his bell, which communicated with the +shop below. + +"My papers! It is past eight." + +"Here they are, sir, the whole lot--_Times_, _'Tizer_, _Morning +Chronicle_, and _Morning Post_." + +"Why do you oblige me to ask for them? Can't you bring them as I have +told you? It makes me so late with my work." And, having delivered +himself of these testy remarks, he threw himself into an arm-chair +and proceeded to devour the morning's news. + +"Nothing fresh from the East?" As he now talked to himself, this +smooth-shaven, typical Englishman spoke, strange to say, in French. +"Have Messieurs the correspondents no news? No letter in the _Post_? +None in the _Morning Chronicle_? How disappointing! Ha! what's this? +Two columns in the _Times_. How admirably that excellent paper is +served! Let's see what it says." + +He hastily ran his eye down the columns, muttering to himself: "Ha! +mostly strong language--finding fault. How kind of you to be +dissatisfied with the administration, and to tell us why. The siege +practically suspended, eh? Fuses won't fit the shells--so much the +better, then the mortars can't fire. + +"But that's no news: my friends and good masters will have found that +out for themselves. Anything else? 'Our new battery, which is only +seven hundred yards from the enemy's guns, is nearly completed.' +Which battery does he mean? Has he referred to it before?" + +And Mr. Hobson, as we shall still call him, got up from his seat and +took a volume down from the shelf. It was labelled "T. 14, M. 55." +These expressions expanded meant that it contained extracts from the +_Times_, the 14th volume, for May, 1855. + +After referring to an alphabetical index, he quickly turned over the +leaves of the book till he found a certain page. + +"Ah! here it is," he said. "'We have commenced another battery just in +front of the quarries, the nearest to the enemy's works. It will be +armed with the heaviest ordnance,' &c. &c. And now it is nearly ready. +That must be passed on without delay." + +Mr. Hobson turned to his desk and indited a telegram. It was addressed +to Arrowsmith, Hull, and said-- + +"New shop, as already indicated, will be opened at once. Let our +Gothenburg correspondent know." + +"I will take it over myself. But let me first see whether there is +anything to add." + +He resumed his reading, and presently came to the following passage:-- + +"'Lord Lyons had just returned from a cruise in the Black Sea. This +confirms my impression that some new movement is contemplated. +Regiments have been placed under orders, and there is great stir among +the fleet. A secret expedition is on the point of being despatched +somewhere, but the real destination no one as yet knows. Camp-gossip +is, of course, busy; but I will not repeat the idle and misleading +rumours that are on every lip.' + +"Another expedition planned! I must know more of this. Where can it be +going? Is it meant for the Sea of Azof and Kertch, like the last, +which alarmed us so, and never got so far? + +"What a business that was! We heard of it long beforehand; +preparations for transport, and the embarkation of the troops. The +fleet left Kamiesch, steering northward, past Sebastopol, and we +thought the latter would be attacked. But lo! next morning the enemy +were not in sight; the fleet had returned to Kamiesch Bay. What did it +mean? It was weeks before I learnt the right story, and then it came +from Paris. General Canrobert had changed his mind. The Emperor had +told him not to send away any troops, but to keep all concentrated +before Sebastopol. So the expedition to Kertch--for it was directed +against Kertch, and the northward move was only intended to deceive +us--all ended in smoke. Can they be going again to Kertch? It is +hardly likely. They have some deeper designs, I feel sure. This would +tally with my latest advice. Let me read once more what the Prince +says." + +He took a key from his pocket, opened his desk, and unlocked an inner +receptacle, from which he took a letter in cypher. + +"'We have learnt,' he read, fluently, without using any key, 'that the +enemy contemplate a great change in their plan of operations. It is +reported that they propose to raise the siege, or at least reduce it +to a mere blockade. The great bulk of the allied army would then be +transferred to sea to another point where it would take the field +against our line of communications. It is essential that we should +know at the earliest date whether there is any foundation in this +report. Use every endeavour to this end.' + +"Yes; there can be no doubt that this surmise is corroborated by the +latest news. But I must have more precise and correct information +without delay. How is it to be obtained? Which of my agents can help +me best? Lavitsky? He works in Woolwich Arsenal--he might know if more +wheeled transport had been ordered. Or Bauer, at Portsmouth--he would +know of any movements in the fleet. Or-- + +"Of course!" and he slapped his forehead, despising his own stupidity. +"Cyprienne--she can, and must, manage this." + +He proceeded to put back the papers into the secret drawer; he +replaced the volume on the shelf, and, taking the telegram he had +written in his hand, left the office, carefully locking the door +behind him. + +Hailing a cab, he was driven first to a telegraph-station, where he +sent off his despatch, only adding the words:-- + +"Other important transactions in the shipping interest will shortly +be undertaken; more precise details will speedily follow." + +Then he directed the cabman to drive to Thistle Grove, Brompton. + +"Is Mrs. Wilders visible yet?" he asked the servant, on reaching her +house. + +"Madame does not receive so early," replied the man, a foreigner, +speaking broken English, who was new to the establishment, and had +never seen Mr. Hobson before. + +"Take in my name!" said Mr. Hobson, peremptorily. "It is urgent, say. +I must see her at once." + +"I will tell madame's maid." + +"Do so, and look sharp about it. Don't trouble about me--be off and +tell the maid. I know my way;" and Mr. Hobson marched himself into the +morning-room. + +This room, in the forenoon, was on the shady side of the house--it +looked on to a pretty garden, a small, level lawn of intensely green +grass, jewelled with flowers. The windows, reaching to the ground, +were wide open, and near one was drawn a small round table, on which +was set a dainty breakfast-service of pink-and-white china, glistening +plate, and crimson roses, standing out in pleasant relief upon the +snowy damask. + +"Beyond question, madame has a knack of making herself comfortable. I +have seldom seen a cosier retreat on a broiling summer's day, and in +this dusty, dirty town. She has not breakfasted yet, nor, except for +my cup of coffee, have I. I will do myself the pleasure of joining +her. A cutlet and a glass of cool claret will suit me admirably just +now, and we can talk as we eat." + +While he stood there, admiring cynically, Mrs. Wilders came in. + +She was in a loose morning wrapper of pale pink, and had seemingly +taken little trouble with her day's toilette as yet. Her _neglige_ +dress hinted at hurry in leaving her room, and she addressed her +visitor in a hasty, impatient way. + +"What is this so urgent that you come intruding at such an unseemly +hour?" + +"You grow indolent, my dear madame. Why, it is half-past eleven." + +"I have not yet breakfasted." + +"So I see. I am delighted. No more have I." + +"Was it to ask yourself to breakfast that you came here this morning?" + +"Not entirely; another little matter brought me; but we can deal with +the two at the same time. Pray order them to serve: I am excessively +hungry." + +Mrs. Wilders, without answering, pettishly pulled the bell. + +"Lay another cover," she told the man, "and bring wine with the +breakfast. You will want it, I suppose," she said to her guest; "I +never touch it in the morning." + +"How charmingly you manage! You have a special gift as a housewife. +What a delightful meal! I have seen nothing more refined in Paris." + +There was a delicious lobster-salad, a dish of cold cutlets and jelly, +and a great heap of strawberries with cream. + +"Now get to business," said Mrs. Wilders, in a snarling, ill-tempered +way; "let's have it out." + +"It's a pity you are out of humour this morning," observed Mr. Hobson, +with a provoking forbearance. "I have come to find fault." + +Mrs. Wilders shrugged her shoulders, implying that she did not care. + +"It may seem ungracious, but I must take you to task seriously. How is +it you give me no news?" + +"I tell you all I hear; what more do you want?" + +"A great deal. Look here, Cyprienne, I am not to be put off with +stale, second-hand gossip--the echoes of the Clubs; vague, empty +rumours that are on everybody's tongue long before they come to me. I +must have fresh, brand-new intelligence, straight from the +fountain-head. You must get it for me, or--" + +The old frightened look which we have seen on Mrs. Wilders's face +before when brought into antagonism with this man returned to it, and +her voice was less firm, her manner less defiant, as she said-- + +"Spare me your threats. You know I am most anxious to oblige you--to +help you." + +"You have put me off too long with these vague promises. I must have +something more tangible at once." + +"It is so difficult to find out anything." + +"Not if you go the right way to work. A woman of your attractions, +your cleverness, ought to be able to twist any man round her finger. +You have done it often enough already, goodness knows. Now, there's +old Faulks; when did you see him last?" + +"Not a week ago." + +"And you got nothing out of him? I thought he was devoted to you." + +"He is most attentive, most obliging, but still exceedingly wary. He +will talk about anything rather than business. I have tried him +repeatedly. I have introduced the subject of his nephew, of whom he is +now so proud." + +"Your enemy, you mean--that young McKay." + +"Exactly. I thought that by bringing the conversation to the Crimea I +might squeeze out something important. But no! he is always as close +as an oyster." + +"He will be ready enough to talk about his dear nephew before long. +You may look out for some startling news about McKay." + +"Really?" said Mrs. Wilders, growing suddenly excited. "Your plan has +succeeded, then?" + +"Any day you may hear that he has been removed effectually, and for +ever, from your path. But for the moment that will keep. What presses +is that you should squeeze old Faulks. There is something that I must +know to-day, or to-morrow at latest. You must go and see him at once." + +"At his office?" + +"Why not?" + +"But on what pretence? I have never been there as yet. He has always +come here to lunch or dine. He is fond of a good dinner." + +"Ask him again." + +"But I could do that by letter. He may suspect me if I go to him +without some plausible excuse." + +"Trump up some story about his nephew. Only get to him; he will soon +give you an opening you can turn to account. I trust to your +cleverness for that; only lose no time." + +"Must I go to-day?" + +"This very afternoon; directly you leave the house." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +IN WHITEHALL. + + +The Military Munitions' department was one of a dozen or more seated +at that period in and about Whitehall. Its ostensible functions, as +its title implied, were to supply warlike and other stores to the +British army when actively engaged. But as wars had been rare for +nearly half-a-century it had done more during that time towards +providing a number of worthy gentlemen with comfortable incomes than +in ministering to the wants of troops in the field. + +It was an office of good traditions: highly respectable, very +old-fashioned, slow moving, not to say dilatory, but tenacious of its +dignity as regards other departments, and obstinately wedded to its +own way of conducting the business of the country. + +The most prominent personage in the department for some little time +before the outbreak of hostilities with Russia, and during the war, +was Mr. Rufus Faulks, brother to the Captain Faulks we met on board +the _Burlington Castle_, and also uncle to Stanislas McKay. + +Mr. Faulks had entered the office as a lad, and, after long years of +patient service, had worked his way up through all the grades to the +very top of the permanent staff. He had no one over him now but the +statesman who, for the time being, was responsible for the department +in Parliament--a mere politician, perfectly raw in official routine, +who had the good taste and better sense to surrender himself blindly +to the guidance of Mr. Faulks. What could a bird of passage know of +the deep mysteries of procedure it took a life-time to learn? + +He was the true type and pattern of a Government official. A prim, +plethoric, middle-aged little man; always dressed very carefully; +walking on the tips of his toes; speaking precisely, with a priggish, +self-satisfied smirk, and giving his opinion, even on the weather, +with the air of a man who was secretly better informed than the rest +of the world. + +He was very punctual in his attendance at the office, passing the +threshold of the private house in a side-street near Whitehall, where +the department was lodged all by itself, every morning at eleven, and +doing the same thing every day at the same time with the most +praiseworthy, methodical precision. His first step was to deposit his +umbrella in one corner, his second to hang his hat in another, his +third to take an old office-coat out of a bottom drawer in his desk, +substituting it for the shiny black frock-coat he invariably wore; +then he looked through his letters, selected all of a private and +confidential nature, and placing the morning's _Times_ across his +knees deposited himself in an arm-chair near the fire. He was supposed +to be digesting the morning's correspondence, and no one during this +the first half-hour of his attendance would have ventured to intrude +upon him unsummoned. + +It was with a very black face, therefore, that when thus occupied upon +the morning that Mr. Hobson visited Mrs. Wilders he saw his own +private messenger enter the room. + +"What is it, Lightowlar? I have forbidden you to disturb me till +twelve." + +"Beg pardon, sir; very sorry, sir!" replied the messenger, who had +been confidential valet to a Cabinet Minister, and prided himself on +the extreme polish of his language and demeanour. "I am aware that you +have intimidated your disapprobation of unseasonable interruption, +but--" + +"Well, well! out with it, or take yourself off." + +"Sir 'Umphry, sir; he have just come to the office quite unforseen." + +Sir Humphrey Fothergill was the Parliamentary head of the office at +this time. + +"Sir Humphrey here! What an extraordinary thing!" + +The proper time for the appearance of this great functionary was at 4 +p.m., on his way to the House and Mr. Faulks felt quite annoyed at the +departure from the ordinary rule. + +"Sir 'Umphry 'ave took us all aback, sir. His own messenger, Mr. +Sprott, was not in the way for the moment, and Sir 'Umphry expressed +himself in rather strong terms." + +"Serve Sprott right. But what has all that to do with me?" + +"Sir 'Umphry, sir, 'ave sent, sir"--the man could hardly bring himself +to convey the message; "he 'ave sent, sir, to say he wishes to see you +at once." + +"Me? At this hour? Impossible!" + +This pestilent Sir Humphrey was upsetting every tradition of the +office. + +Mr. Faulks again settled himself in his arm-chair, with the air of a +man who refused to move--out of his proper groove. + +"Mr. Faulks! Mr. Faulks!" Another unseemly intrusion. This time it was +Sprott, the chief messenger, flurried and frightened, no doubt, by +recent reproof. "Sir Humphrey's going on awful, sir; he's rung his +bell three times, and asked how long it took you to go upstairs." + +Sullenly, and sorely against his will, Mr. Faulks rose and joined his +chief. + +"I have asked for you several times," said Sir Humphrey Fothergill, a +much younger man than Mr. Faulks, new to official life, but a +promising party politician, with a great belief in himself and his +importance as a member of the House of Commons; "you must have come +late." + +"Pardon me, I was here at my usual time; but in the thirty-five years +that I have had the honour to serve in the Military Munition +Department I never remember a Parliamentary chief who came so early as +you." + +"I shall come when I choose--in the middle of the night, if it suits +me or is necessary, as is more than probable in these busy times." + +Mr. Faulks waved his hands and bowed stiffly, as much as to say that +Sir Humphrey was master of his actions, but that he need not expect to +see him. + +"You all want stirring up here," said Sir Humphrey abruptly. "It is +high time to give you a fillip." + +"I am not aware--" Mr. Faulks began, in indignant protest, but his +chief cut him short. + +"Did you read what happened in the House last night?" + +"I have only just glanced at the _Times_," replied Mr. Faulks, in a +melancholy voice, thinking how rudely his regular perusal of the great +journal had been interrupted that morning. + +"It's not pleasant reading. There was a set attack upon this +department, and they handled us very roughly, let me tell you. It made +my ears tingle." + +"We have been abused cruelly--unfairly abused for the last twelve +months," said Mr. Faulks with a most injured air. + +"You richly deserved it. Amongst you the troops in the Crimea have +been dying from starvation, perishing from cold." + +"I can assure you that is distinctly unjust. I can assure you great +quantities of warm clothing were dispatched in due course." + +"Ay, but when?" + +"I can't give you the exact dates, but we have been advised of their +arrival these last few weeks." + +"Warm clothing in May? A very seasonable provision! But it's all of a +piece. How about those fuzes?" + +"To what do you refer, may I ask?" said Mr. Faulks very blandly; but +his blood was boiling at the indignity of being lectured thus by a +young man altogether new to the office. + +"It is all in this morning's _Times_. The siege is at a standstill; +the fuzes won't fit the shells. There are plenty of 10-inch fuzes, but +only 13-inch shells. Who is to blame for that?" + +"Our ordnance branch, I fear. But it shall be seen to: I will address +a communication to the head, calling his attention to the error." + +"And when will he get the letter?" + +"In the course of the next two or three days." + +"And his reply will take about the same time to reach you, I suppose?" + +"Probably: more or less." + +"Where is the office of the ordnance branch? In this house?" + +"Oh, no!" replied Mr. Faulks, in a voice full of profound pity for the +lamentable ignorance of his chief. "It is at No. 14." + +"Just round the corner--in fact, half-a-dozen yards off?" + +"Yes, about that." + +"Well, look here, Mr. Faulks: you just put on your hat and go round +the corner and see the head of the ordnance branch, and settle all +this with him in the next five minutes, d'ye hear?" + +"What, I? personally? That would be altogether against precedent and +contrary to the rules of the office. I really must decline to +introduce such a radical change." + +"You will obey my order, this very instant! It is utterly preposterous +to waste six days sending letters backwards and forwards about a +paltry matter that can be settled by word of mouth in as many minutes. +No wonder the troops have died like rotten sheep!" + +"I have been five-and-thirty years in this office--" began Mr. +Faulks. + +"Oh! don't bother me with your historical reminiscences," said Sir +Humphrey, cutting him short. + +"And never, during all that period--" went on Mr. Faulks, manfully. + +"--Have you done anything to-day that could be put off till +to-morrow? But now go and see about this at once--do you +understand?--and then come back to me; I have other matters to +arrange. We have news that a fresh expedition will shortly start for +Kertch, and we are requested to send out with all dispatch +considerable supplies of salt rations." + +"It will be necessary to refer to the Admiralty: they will require +proper notice." + +"You will get the rations within twenty-four hours, notice or no +notice. But we will discuss that by-and-by. Meanwhile, hurry off to +the ordnance branch." + +Mr. Faulks went to the door, protesting and muttering to himself. + +"Stay! one word more! It is wrong of me, perhaps, to hint that your +zeal requires any stimulus, Mr. Faulks." + +"Hardly, I hope. I have endeavoured for the last five-and-thirty +years--" + +"Yes, yes, we know all about that. But I have been told that you +looked for some special recognition of your services--a decoration, +the Order of the Bath--from the last Administration. Now, unless you +bestir yourself, don't expect anything of the kind from us." + +"I do not pretend to say that I have earned the favour of my +Sovereign; but in any case it would depend upon her most gracious +Majesty whether--" + +"Don't make any mistake about it. You can only get the Bath through +the recommendation of your immediate superiors. There's stimulus, if +you want it. But don't let me detain you any more." + +Mr. Faulks went slowly downstairs, and still more slowly resumed his +out-of-door frock-coat; he took up his hat and stick in the same +deliberate fashion, and started at a snail's pace for round the +corner. + +He drawled and dawdled through the business, which five minutes' sharp +talk could have ended, and it was nearly lunch-time before he returned +to his chief. + +"Well, you might have been to the Crimea and back!" said Sir Humphrey, +impatiently. + +"Matters of such moment are not to be disposed of out of hand. Haste +is certain to produce dangerous confusion, and it has been my unvaried +experience during five-and-thirty years--" + +"Which it has taken you to find the shortest way next door. But there! +let us get on with our work. Now, about this expedition to Kertch?" + +And Sir Humphrey proceeded to discuss and dispose of great questions +of supply in a prompt, off-hand way that both silenced and terrified +Mr. Faulks. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MR. FAULKS TALKS. + + +Mr. Faulks was rather fond of good living, and, as a rule, he never +allowed official cares to interfere with his lunch, a meal brought in +on a tray from an eating-house in the Strand. To make a proper +selection from the bill of fare sent in every morning was a weighty +matter, taking precedence over any other work, however pressing. + +But to-day he scarcely enjoyed the haricot of lamb with new potatoes +and young peas that he found waiting, and slightly cold, when he went +downstairs to his own room. + +"For two pins I'd take my retirement; I can claim it; where would they +be then?" + +This estimable personage shared with thousands the strange +superstition that the world cannot do without them. + +"This cook is falling off most terribly. The lamb is uneatable, the +potatoes are waxy, and the peas like pills. Ugh! I never made a worse +lunch!" + +A large cigar and the perusal of the long-neglected _Times_ did not +pacify him much, and he was still fretting and fuming when his +messenger brought in a three-cornered note and asked if there was any +reply. + +"The lady, sir--a real lady, I should think--'ave brought it in her +own bruffam, and was most particular, sir, as you should 'ave it at +once." + +Mr. Faulks took the letter and examined it carefully. + +"From that charming woman, Mrs. Wilders, my cousin, or rather Stanny's +cousin; but his relations are mine. I am his uncle; some day, if he +lives, I shall be uncle to an earl. They will treat me better perhaps +when I have all the Essendine interest at my back. Whippersnappers +like this Fothergill will scarcely dare to snub me then. A good lad +Stanislas; I always liked him. I wish he was back amongst us, and not +at that horrid war." + +"The lady, sir, is most anxious, sir, to have a answer," put in the +messenger, recalling Mr. Faulks's attention to the letter. + +"Ah! to be sure. One moment," and he read the note:-- + + "Cannot I see you?" it said. "I am oppressed with fears for + our dear Stanislas. Do please spare me a few minutes of your + valuable time. + + "CYPRIENNE W." + +"I will go down to her at once, say." And, seizing his hat, Mr. Faulks +followed the messenger into the street, where he found Mrs. Wilders in +her tiny brougham, at the door of the office. + +"Oh, how good of you!" she said, putting out a little hand in a +perfectly-fitting grey glove. "I would not disturb you for worlds, but +I was so anxious." + +"What has happened? Nothing serious, I trust?" + +"I do not know. I cannot say. I am terribly upset." + +"Do tell me all about it." + +"Of course; that is why I came. But it will take some time. Will you +get into the carriage? Are you going anywhere? I can take you, and +tell you upon the road." + +"I am afraid I cannot leave just at present." He had misgivings as to +his arbitrary young chief. "But if I might suggest, and if you will +honour me so far, will you not come upstairs to my room?" + +"Oh! willingly, if you will allow me." + +This was all that she wished. Very soon, escorted by her obsequious +friend, she found herself in his arm-chair, pouring forth a long and +intricate, not to say incomprehensible, story about Stanislas McKay. +She had heard, she said--it was not necessary to say how--that they +meant to send him on some secret expedition, full of danger, she +understood, and she thought it such a pity--so wrong, so unfair! + +"He ought really to return to England and take up his proper +position," she went on. "Lord Essendine wishes it, and so, I am sure, +must you." + +"No one will be more pleased to welcome him back than myself," said +Mr. Faulks. "I should be glad indeed of his countenance and support +just now. They do not treat me too well here." + +"Can it be possible!" she exclaimed, in a voice of tenderest interest. +"You whom I have always thought one of the most useful, estimable men +in the public service." + +"Things are not what they were, my dear lady; they do not appreciate +me here. They deny me the smallest, the most trifling recognition. +Would you believe it that, after five-and-thirty years of +uninterrupted service, they still hesitate to give me a decoration? I +ought to have had the Companionship of the Bath at the last change of +Ministry." + +"Of course you ought; I have often heard Lord Essendine say so." + +"Has he now, really?" asked Mr. Faulks, much flattered. + +"Frequently," went on Mrs. Wilders, fluently, availing herself readily +of the opening he had given her. "I am sure he has only to know that +you are disappointed in this matter and he will give you the warmest +support. You know he belongs to the party now in power, and a word +from him--" + +"If he will deign to interest himself on my behalf the matter is, of +course, settled." + +"And he shall, rely on me for that." + +"How can I ever thank you sufficiently, dear lady, for your most +gracious, most generous encouragement? If I can serve you in any way, +command me." + +"Well, you can oblige me in a little matter I have much at heart." + +"Only name it," he cried, earnestly. + +"Come and dine with me to-night in Thistle Grove." + +"Is that all? I accept with enthusiasm." + +"Only a small party: four at the most. You know I am still in deepest +mourning. My poor dear general--" she dropped her voice and her +eyes. + +"Ah!" said Mr. Faulks, sympathetically; "you have known great sorrows. +But you must not brood, dear lady: we should struggle with grief." He +took her hand, and looked at her in a kindly, pitying way. + +The moment was ill-timed for interruption, but the blame was Sir +Humphrey's, who now sent the messenger with a fresh and more imperious +summons for the attendance of Mr. Faulks. + +He got up hurriedly, nervously, saying-- + +"I must leave you, dear lady; there are matters of great urgency to be +dealt with to-day." + +"No apologies: it's my fault for trespassing here. I will run away. +To-night--do not forget me, at eight," and Mrs. Wilders took her +departure. + +The little house in Thistle Grove wore its most smiling aspect at +evening, with its soft-shaded lamps, pretty hangings, and quantities +of variegated, sweet-smelling flowers; it was radiant with light, full +of perfume, bright in colour. + +Mrs. Wilders's guests were three--Mrs. Jones, a staid, hard-featured, +middle-aged lady in deep black, an officer's widow like herself, as +she explained, who lived a few doors down, and was an acquaintance of +the last month or two, Mr. Hobson, and Mr. Faulks. + +The dinner was almost studied in simplicity, but absolutely perfect of +its kind. Clear soup, salmon cutlets, a little joint, salad, and quail +in vine-leaves. The only wine was a sound medium claret, except at +dessert, when, after the French fashion, Mrs. Wilders gave champagne. + +Through dinner the talk had been light and trivial, but with dessert +and coffee it gradually grew more serious, and touched upon the topics +of the day. + +"These must be trying times for you Government officials," said Mr. +Hobson, carelessly. + +"Yes, indeed," replied Mr. Faulks, with a deep sigh. "I often feel +that life is hardly worth having." + +"The public service is no bed of roses," remarked Mrs. Jones. "It +killed my poor dear husband." + +"It is so disheartening to slave day after day as you do," went on +Mrs. Wilders to Mr. Faulks, "and get no thanks." + +"Very much the other thing!" cried Mr. Hobson; "you are about the best +abused people in the world, I should say, just now." + +"It is hard on us, for I assure you we do our best. We are constantly, +uninterruptedly at work. I never know a moment that I may not be +wanted--that some special messenger may not be after me. I have to +leave my address so that they can find me wherever I am, and at any +time." + +"Is it so now?" asked Mrs. Wilders. "Cannot you even give me the +pleasure of your society for an hour or two without its being known?" + +"I do it in this way, dear lady. I leave a sealed envelope on my hall +table, which is only opened in case of urgency." + +"You don't expect to be summoned to-night, I hope?" inquired the fair +hostess. + +"I cannot say; it is quite probable." + +"There are, perhaps, important movements intended in the Crimea?" +asked Mr. Hobson, as he picked his strawberries and prepared himself a +sauce of sugar and cream. + +"You have heard so?" replied Mr. Faulks. + +"There was something in the _Times_ this morning from their special +correspondent. Some new expedition was talked of." + +"They ought to be all shot, these correspondents," said Mr. Faulks, +decisively. "They permit themselves to canvass the conduct and +character of persons of our position with a freedom that is +intolerable." + +"Pardon me," said Mr. Hobson, "but as one of the British public, a +taxpayer and bearer of the public burden, I feel grateful to these +newspaper gentlemen for seeing that our money is properly spent." + +"I am sorry to hear you commend them," said Mr. Faulks, in a way that +implied much resentment. + +"Well, but without them we should hear of nothing that is going on. +This new expedition, for instance, which I have a shrewd suspicion +covers some deep design." + +"You think so, do you? On what ground, pray?" said Mr. Faulks, with +the slight sneer of superior knowledge. + +"The _Times_ man hints as much. There has long been a rumour of some +change in the plan of operations, and he seems to be right in his +conjecture." + +"He knows nothing at all about it--how can he?" said Mr. Faulks, +contemptuously. + +"You must forgive my differing with you. It is not my business to say +how he obtains his information, but I have generally found that he is +right. Now, this great expedition--" + +"Is all moonshine!" cried Mr. Faulks, losing his temper, and thrown +off his guard. "It's quite a small affair--a trip round the Sea of +Azof, and the reduction of Kertch." + +"The old affair revived, in fact." + +"Neither more nor less. There is no intention at the present moment of +drawing any large detachment from the siege. On the contrary, every +effort is being strained to bring it to an end." + +"Quite right too; it ought to be vigorously prosecuted--attack should +follow attack." + +"We shall hear of one or more before long," went on Mr. Faulks, +growing more and more garrulous. "Our advanced trenches are creeping +very near, and I expect any day to hear that the French have stormed +the Mamelon, and our people the Quarries." + +"Indeed? That is very interesting. And we shall take them--do you +think?" + +"We must. The attacking columns will be of great strength, and the +attack will be preceded by a tremendous cannonade." + +"So we may expect great news in the next few days?" said Mrs. Wilders, +eagerly. + +"More bloodshed!" added Mrs. Jones, with a deep sigh. "This terrible +war!" + +"You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs," said Mr. Hobson, +sententiously. "The more terrible a war is, the sooner it is ended." + +"We are getting very ghastly in our talk," said Mrs. Wilders. "Suppose +we go into the drawing-room and have some tea." + +As they passed out of the dining-room, Mr. Hobson managed to whisper a +few words. + +"I have squeezed him dry: that was all I wanted to know. I need not +stay any longer, I think." + +"Who knows? His special messenger may come down with the very latest. +If so, you ought to be able to extract that from him too." + +Mrs. Wilders spoke these words carelessly; but, as often happens, they +correctly foretold what presently occurred. + +When they were all seated cosily around the tea-table, Mrs. Wilders's +man brought in a great dispatch upon a salver. + +"For Mr. Faulks," he said, and with an air of the greatest importance +the hard-worked, indispensable official tore open the cover. + +It contained a few hurried lines from Sir Humphrey Fothergill to the +following effect:-- + +"A telegram has just been received from Lord Raglan. It contains +painful news for you; but I thought it best to let you have it at +once." + +He opened the telegram with trembling hands and read-- + +"Yesterday, Mr. McKay, of the quartermaster-general's staff, ventured +through the enemy's lines in the direction of the Tchernaya to make a +special reconnaissance. He unfortunately was captured. I sent a flag +of truce into Sebastopol, asking that he might be exchanged, but have +been peremptorily refused. Gortschakoff asserts that he is a Russian +subject and was taken red-handed as a spy. He is to be executed +immediately. Will renew request with strong protest, but fear there is +no hope." + +Mr. Faulks groaned heavily and let the telegram fall on the ground. + +"What has happened?" asked Mrs. Wilders, eagerly. + +"You were right--too right. That poor boy--" + +"Stanislas?" + +"Yes; my poor nephew has fallen into the hands of these bloodthirsty +Russians, who are resolved to execute him as a traitor and a spy." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MARIQUITA'S QUEST. + + +Hyde's unfortunate affair with the sailor had ended in a broken rib +and a dislocated arm. He was taken back senseless to the camp of the +Royal Picts, and for some days required the closest care. It was +nearly a week before he so far recovered himself as to be able to give +any account of what had occurred, and longer before he remembered +accurately what was taking him to headquarters at the time of the +accident. + +It flashed across him quite suddenly, and with something of a shock, +that while he lay there helpless his friend McKay was still in danger. + +"When shall I be able to get about again?" he asked the doctor, +anxiously. + +"You won't be fit for duty, if that's what you're driving at, for many +a long day to come." + +"I can go about with my arm in a sling. I am beginning to feel +perfectly well otherwise." + +"What's the good of a soldier with his arm in a sling? No: as soon as +you are fit to move I shall have you sent down to Scutari." + +"But I don't want to go: I had much rather stay here with the old +corps." + +He was thinking of the business he had still in hand. + +"You will have to obey orders, anyhow, so make up your mind to go." + +The regimental surgeon of the Royal Picts was a morose old Scotchman, +very obstinate and intolerant of opposition. What he said he stuck to, +and Hyde knew that he must prepare to leave the Crimea in a short +time, probably before he was strong enough to go in person to +headquarters and find out McKay. + +It would be necessary, therefore, to find some other messenger, and, +after considering what was best to be done, he resolved to beg Colonel +Blythe to come and see him, intending to make him his confidant. + +"Well, Rupert," said the Colonel--they were alone together--"this is a +bad business. Macinlay tells me you won't be fit for duty for months. +He is going to send you at once before a medical board." + +"It is very aggravating, Colonel, as I particularly wished to be here +for the next few weeks. + +"To be in at the death, I suppose? We are bound to take the place at +the next attack." + +"I hope you may. But it is not that. Our friend McKay is in imminent +danger." + +"What is the nature of the danger?" + +"He is pursued by the relentless hate of an infamous woman: one who +has never yet spared any who dared to thwart or oppose her." + +"What on earth do you mean, Hyde?" The colonel thought the old +sergeant was wandering in his mind. "There are no women out here +except Mother Charcoal, and a few French _vivandieres_. How can any of +them threaten McKay?" + +"It is as I say, colonel. By-and-by I will tell you everything. But +let me implore you to find out McKay at once and bring him to me. I +cannot, you see, go to him." + +"Is this very urgent?" + +"A matter of life and death, I assure you." + +"I will order a horse at once. It is all very mysterious and +extraordinary; but then you have been a mystery, Rupert Hyde, a riddle +and a puzzle, ever since I have known you." + +"It will all be unravelled some day, colonel, never fear; but lose no +time, let me beg;" and, thus adjured, the colonel presently mounted +his horse and galloped over to headquarters. + +He arrived there the day after McKay's excursion into the Russian +lines. The young staff-officer was still absent, and fears were +already entertained as to his safety, although it was not positively +known as yet that he had come to harm. + +Let us leave Colonel Blythe and other friends exchanging anxious +conjectures as to McKay's fate and return to Mariquita, whose +misgivings had steadily increased from the day she had last seen Hyde. + +He had promised she should see him again, and, perhaps, Stanislas, +without delay. Yet this was more than a week since. What had become of +the old soldier? Had he fulfilled his mission of warning, or had he +been involved in the dire intrigues that threatened her lover? + +Her lover, too; her Stanislas--to save whom she had come so far, +braving so many dangers, and at the peril of her maidenly +self-respect--had anything happened to him? + +The terrible uncertainty was crushing her. She must know something, +even the worst, or her apprehensions, ever present and hourly +increasing, would kill her. + +To whom could she turn in this time of cruel suspense? Hyde had +deserted her, seemingly; in spite of her heartfelt anxiety she could +not bring herself to approach McKay. + +One other man there was; that villain, Benito Villegas--the source, in +truth, of all her trouble--might give her news. Bad news, possibly, +but still news, if only she could lay hands on him. Where and how was +he hiding? Every effort to find him had been fruitless hitherto. + +At Valetta Joe's they knew no such name, so they told her when she +inquired cautiously for Benito from some of the loafers hanging about +the shop. + +Yet that was the place to which he was to proceed on arrival. The +letter she had picked up in Bombardier Lane said so. He must be +hiding, or in disguise; and now, when her anxiety for her beloved +Stanislas was at its highest pitch, she was more than ever resolved to +find out somehow what Benito was doing. + +One afternoon, when business was rather slack at Mother Charcoal's, +she seized a chance of visiting the hut-town. + +"Any work?" she asked, in Spanish, of Valetta Joe himself, whom she +met at the door of his shanty. + +"What can you do? Where do you come from? Spain?" replied the baker in +the same tongue. + +"Yes, from Malaga. I can do anything--try me." + +"Can you sell bread through the camp? I am a man short, and could take +you on, perhaps, until he is better. Come down below, and I will give +you a basketful to hawk about." + +"I shall have to tell them at the canteen--Mother Charcoal's--that I +am going to leave." + +"That won't do. You must come at once if you come at all. Which will +you do?" + +While she still hesitated, a voice from the subterranean regions at +the end of the shop fell upon her ear. Her heart gave a great jump at +the sound--it was Benito's. "Joe! Joe!" he was crying, in feeble +accents. + +"It's take it or leave it. There are plenty of your sort about. Well, +what do you say?" + +"I accept," said Mariquita, eagerly. "When shall I begin work?" + +"Now, this minute. Come down and help me to get a batch of bread out +of the oven." + +They passed down into the cellar by a short ladder, and Mariquita +found herself in a dimly-lighted cavernous den, hot and stifling, at +one end of which glowed the grate below the oven. + +"Joe! Joe!" repeated Benito's voice, and Mariquita, with difficulty, +made out his figure lying on a heap of rags in a corner of the cellar. + +"Well?" answered Joe, roughly, as soon as he had pointed out the +bread-trays and desired her to get them in order. "What's wrong with +you now? You are always groaning and calling out." + +"Water!" asked Benito, piteously. "This place is like a furnace. I am +suffering torments from raging thirst and this cruel wound. Accursed +Englishman! may I live to repay him!" + +"You will have to hurry and get well, or the Russians will save you +the trouble," remarked Joe. + +"That is my only consolation. It was I who gave him to them." + +Although bending busily over her task, Mariquita felt her heart beat +faster and faster. These words, which she now overheard through such a +strange chance, clearly referred to her lover. + +"Will they hang him, do you think?" asked Benito. + +"As sure as the sun breeds flies. We have done our business too well +to give him a chance of escape." + +"Would that I might hold the rope, that I might see his agony, his +last convulsions! That I might myself revenge the tortures he has made +me bear!" + +And Benito sank back upon his miserable bed, groaning with pain. + +"Don't whine like that, you miserable cur!" said Joe, brutally. "It's +bad enough to have you here at all, without your disturbing the whole +place. Why did you come here?" + +"Where else could I go? I never expected to get so far. I was faint +from loss of blood, and in frightful pain. I thought I should die as I +crawled along." + +"Better you had than bring me into trouble, as you will if the +provost-marshal finds you here." + +"It is cowardly of you to ill-treat and upbraid me. Take care! I am +helpless now, but by-and-by, when I am well and strong, you shall +suffer for your cruelty." + +"What! you threaten me? But there, it is idle to waste words on such a +wretched rogue; I have other work to do. Now, young imp!" cried Joe, +turning to Mariquita, "stir yourself, and let us get out this batch of +bread." + +The conversation which she had overheard, conveying as it did the +confirmation of her worst fears, had agitated Mariquita exceedingly, +but she knew that she must control her emotion, and arouse no +suspicions in the minds of these villains. Benito, wounded, and in +desperate case, was in no position to recognise her, and Joe was, of +course, completely in the dark as to whom he had admitted within his +shop. + +The work in the cellar was not completed and the bread carried +upstairs for an hour or more, during which time Mariquita was able to +think over and decide what she would do. She had matured her plan when +they got upstairs. + +"Pay me!" she said, saucily, to Valetta Joe. "I shan't stop here." + +"Pay you, vile imp? Why, I only took you on trial!" + +"Pay me!" she repeated. "You shan't cheat me." + +"I owe you nothing. Be off out of this or you shall feel the weight of +my hand." + +"Pay me, you swindling old rogue!" shouted Mariquita, in a shrill +voice. "I won't go till I get my rights." + +"You won't!" cried Joe, as he seized her roughly by the collar and +dragged her towards the door. + +"Villain! Thief! Murder! Help, help! He is killing me!" cried +Mariquita, now at the top of her voice, and this frenzied appeal had +the exact effect she hoped. A crowd of camp-followers quickly +gathered around the door of the shanty, and with it came a couple of +stalwart assistants of the provost-marshal. + +"What's all this?" asked one of them, in a peremptory tone. "Leave +that lad alone, you old rascal!" + +"What's he doing to you?" asked the other. + +"He won't pay me my wages," said Mariquita, in a whining, piteous +voice. "He owes me three shillings." + +"I don't, you lying little ragamuffin! I only took you on trial." + +"He does; and he was beating me, ill-using me," went on Mariquita. + +"We can't have no disturbance here," said one of the provost-marshal's +men. "You must come before the provost, both of you; he'll settle your +case in a brace of shakes. Bill, you bring the old man; I'll take +charge of the youngster." + +And the two guardians of order marched their prisoners through the +hut-town to a wooden building at the end, where Major Shervinton dealt +out a simple, rough-and-ready justice to the turbulent characters he +ruled. + +This was precisely what Mariquita had hoped for. What she sought at +all hazards was to gain speech of the provost-marshal. + +They had to wait for him half-an-hour, and when he appeared there were +other cases to be dealt with first. + +When it came to Valetta Joe's turn, he stoutly denied the charge of +defrauding and ill-using the lad. + +"I don't know about the wages, sir," said one of the assistants, "but +we caught him in the act of cuffing the boy." + +"What does he owe you, my lad?" asked Major Shervinton. + +"Nothing," replied Mariquita, trembling and in very imperfect English. +"I only wanted to get him here to denounce him as a friend of the +Russians and a spy." + +"There's not a word of truth in what he says!" cried Joe, looking at +her with open-mouthed astonishment. + +"We have long had our eye upon you, my friend, you know that; and I +shall inquire into this more closely." + +"At this moment there is a man--his name is Benito Villegas--in the +bakehouse below the shop," said Mariquita. "He is wounded; you will +find him there. Go and seize him; make him tell you what he has done +with the English officer, Mr. McKay." + +"Mr. McKay!" said the provost-marshal, deeply interested at once. "He +is absent--missing! Have you heard anything of him or his fate?" + +"Make Benito tell you. He has betrayed him into the Russians' hands." + +"This is very important intelligence. What you say shall be verified +at once. See to the prisoners, one of you, and let some one come with +me to Joe's shop." + +Major Shervinton made short work of Benito. + +"Look here, my fine fellow, you had better make a clean breast of it +all. What have you done with Mr. McKay?" + +Benito shook his head, groaned, and pointed to his wounded arm. + +"I see you have been hit; but that won't prevent your talking. Tell me +exactly what happened--it's your only chance; if you don't, we will +wait till your arm is healed, and then hang you here in the middle of +the hut-town. Come, speak out." + +"You will spare my life if I tell you?" + +"Perhaps: if it is the truth. We shall have means of finding out. But +look sharp!" + +In feeble, faltering accents Benito told his story, laying stress on +the villainy of others and making light of the part he had himself +played. + +While the provost-marshal was examining the trembling wretch his +assistants had been making a thorough search of the shop. They came +presently to their chief, laden with a number of papers: letters, +passes signed by Gortschakoff, and other documents of a compromising +character, plainly proving that this place had long been the centre of +a cunningly-devised secret correspondence with the enemy. + +"There's enough to hang you both, and perhaps others too, at home. As +for you," he turned to Benito, "I will have you removed to the +Balaclava hospital. You will be better looked after there, and we +shall have you under our hands when required. Your accomplice, the +commander-in-chief will deal with, I trust, very summarily; we have +overwhelming proofs of his guilt." + +Major Shervinton returned to his office, where the prisoners anxiously +awaited his verdict. + +"Take Joe away, and put a double sentry over him. I shall ride over to +headquarters to report the whole case." + +"Oh, good, kind, beneficent sir," began Joe, wringing his hands, +"spare me! There no word of truth in all this. I done nothing, I +swear. I unjustly accused. I--" + +"March him out," said Shervinton. "Such vermin as you must be +ruthlessly destroyed. + +"And the lad, sir?" asked an assistant. + +"To be sure; I had forgotten. Well, boy, you have behaved uncommonly +well. What shall we do for you?" + +"Nothing," she faltered out, "only save him--save Mr. McKay." + +"Mr. McKay! Do you know him? What--when--?" asked Major Shervinton, +greatly surprised at the agonised accents in which Mariquita spoke, +yet more, seeing that her eyes were filled with tears. "Who are you? +Where do you come from?" he went on, examining the little creature +attentively. + +He noticed now for the first time the delicate skin, the clear-cut, +regular features, the lustrous, eyes; he remarked the fragile form, +the shy, shrinking manner of the lad, who stood diffidently, +deprecatingly, before him, and he said to himself, "What an +exceedingly handsome boy! Boy!" he repeated, and now suddenly a doubt +crossed his mind as to the proper sex of the young person who evinced +such a tender interest in Stanislas McKay. + +"Some secret romance, probably," he went on, smiling at the thought, +but quickly changing his mood as he remembered how tragic its end was +likely to be. + +"I will do all I can to save him, rest assured," he went on aloud, +"and if we recover him from the clutches of the enemy he shall +certainly know how much he owes to you." + +The vivid blush that overspread her cheeks at these words betrayed her +completely. + +"But, my poor child," went on the provost-marshal, in a kindly, +sympathetic voice, "what are we to do with you? It was madness, +surely, for you to venture here. Have you any friends? Let me see you +safe back to them. Where do you live?" + +Mariquita in a low voice explained that she was employed at Mother +Charcoal's. + +"Does she know about you?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Mariquita, in a still lower, almost inaudible +voice. + +"She is a good old soul, and may be trusted to take care of you. +Still, her canteen is no place for such as you. You shall stay with +her, but only till we can send you on to one of the troopships with +female nurses on board." + +Having thus decided, Shervinton himself escorted Mariquita to Mother +Charcoal's, and then rode on to headquarters. + +He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he +brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay. + +"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard +Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle +Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's. + +"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal, +and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion. + +"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We +have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince +Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare +his life." + +"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But, +should McKay be sacrificed, she--his murderess--must not escape," said +Blythe, hotly. + +"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir +Richard. + +"One of my officers--Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe +repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning. + +"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best man to pursue her--to +bring her to judgment for her villanies. There is enough in these +papers to convict her. But he could hardly leave the Crimea just now." + +"He happens at this moment to be going down to Scutari, on sick leave: +he could easily go on." + +"Is he strong enough?" + +"He is gaining strength daily; it is only a wounded arm." + +"That will be best. I will arrange with Lord Raglan to give him leave, +provided he will accept the mission." + +Without further delay Blythe went back to his camp and told Hyde all +that had occurred. + +"Go! Of course I will go. This very day, if the doctor will let me. I +will unmask her; I will spoil her game. If I cannot save Stanislas, at +least she shall not benefit by her crime." + +"You are sure you can find her?" + +"Trust me! People in her position are easily found. The first Court +Guide will give you her address. She holds her head high, and must pay +the penalty of greatness." + +The prospect of starting soon for England on such an errand seemed to +restore Hyde to energy and strength. + +"Not fit to travel!" he said to the doctor, who still expressed some +doubts on that head. "Why, I am fit for anything." + +"Nonsense, man! You won't be able to use your arm for weeks." + +"I shan't want it. My head's sound and clear; that's the chief thing. +The moment I get my leave and my orders, I'm off." + +They gave Hyde a passage home in the _Himalaya_, a man-of-war +transport, and at that time one of the swiftest steamers afloat. At +the most, the journey would not occupy more than twelve days or a +fortnight. He might not be able or in time to do much for Stanislas in +his present peril, but he at least hoped that retribution might follow +fast on the betrayal of his friend. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +INSIDE THE FORTRESS. + + +It is time to return to Stanislas McKay, whose life, forfeited under +the ruthless laws of a semi-barbarous power, still hung by a thread. + +He had been taken into Sebastopol by his escort at a rapid pace. It +was a ride of half-a-dozen miles, no more, and the greater part of it, +when once they regained the Tchernaya, followed the low ground that +margins both sides of the river. + +McKay could see plainly the English cavalry vedettes in the plain; +but, fast bound as he was, it was impossible for him to make any +signal to his friends. It was as well that he could not try, for he +would certainly have paid the penalty with his life. + +They watched him very closely, these wild, unkempt, half-savage +horsemen; watched him as though he were a captive animal--a beast of +prey which might at any time break loose and rend them. + +But the rough uncivilised Cossacks of the Don were not bad fellows +after all. + +Although they at first looked askance at him when he spoke to them, +these simple boors were presently won over by the distress and +sufferings of their prisoner. + +McKay was in great pain; his bonds cut into his flesh, he was +exhausted by the night's work, dejected at the ruin of his enterprise, +uneasy as to his fate. + +No food had crossed his lips for many hours, his throat was parched +and dry under the fierce heat of the sun. + +He begged piteously for water, speaking in Russian, and using the most +familiar style of address. The men who rode on each side of him soon +thawed as he called them "his little fathers," and implored them to +give him a drink. + +"Presently, at the first halt," they said. + +And so he had to battle with his thirst while they still hurried on. + +Suddenly the officer in command called a halt--they had now reached +the picket-house at Tractir Bridge--and rode out to the flank of the +party. He seemed perturbed, anxious in his mind, and raised his hand +to shroud his eyes as he peered eagerly across the plain. + +"Here!" he shouted, rising in his stirrups and turning round. "Bring +up the prisoner." + +McKay was led to his side. + +"What is the meaning of that?" asked the officer haughtily, speaking +in French, as he pointed to a cloud of dust in the distant plain. + +"How can I tell you?" replied McKay, shortly: but in his own mind he +was certain that this was the contemplated extension of the French and +Sardinian lines towards the Tchernaya. For a moment his heart beat +high with the hope that this movement might help him to escape. + +"You know, you rogue! Tell me, or it will be the worse for you." + +"I don't know," replied McKay stoutly; "and if I did I should not tell +you." + +"Dirty spy! You would have sold us for a price, do the same now by the +others. You owe them no allegiance; besides, you are in our power. +Tell me, and I will let you go." + +"Your bribe is wasted on me. I am a British officer--" + +"Pshaw! Officer?" and the fellow raised his whip to strike McKay, but +happily held his hand. + +"Here! take him back," he said angrily, and McKay was again placed in +the midst of the party. + +He renewed his entreaties for a drink, and a Cossack, taking pity on +him, offered him a canteen. + +It was full of _vodkhi_, an ardent spirit beloved by the Russian +peasant, half-a-dozen drops of which McKay managed to gulp down, but +they nearly burned his throat. + +"Water! water!" he asked again. + +And the Cossack, evidently surprised at his want of taste, substituted +the simpler fluid; but the charitable act drew down upon him the +displeasure of his chief. + +"How dare you! without my permission?" cried the officer, as he dashed +the water from McKay's lips, and punished the offending Cossack by a +few sharp strokes with his whip. + +"Come, fall in!" the officer next said. "It won't do to linger here." +And the party resumed their ride, still in the valley, but as far as +possible from the stream. + +Every yard McKay's hopes sank lower and lower; every yard took him +further from his friends, who were advancing, he felt certain, towards +the river. Large bodies of troops, columns of infantry on the march, +covered by cavalry and accompanied by guns, were now perfectly visible +in the distant plain. + +"Look to your front!" cried the Russian officer peremptorily to +Stanislas, as he stole a furtive, lingering glance back. "Faster! Spur +your horses, or we may be picked up or shot." + +All hope was gone now. This was the end of the Tchernaya valley. Up +there opposite were the Inkerman heights, the sloping hills that a few +months before McKay had helped to hold. This paved, much-worn +causeway was the "Sappers' Road," leading round the top of the harbour +into the town. + +No one stopped the Cossacks. + +They passed a picket in a half-ruined guard-house, the roof of which, +its door, walls, and windows, were torn and shattered in the fierce +and frequent bombardments. Even at that moment a round shot crashed +over their heads, took the ground further off, and bounded away. The +sentry asked no questions. Some one looked out and waved his hand in +greeting to the Cossack officer, who replied, pointing ahead, as the +party rode rapidly on. + +Time pressed; it promised to be a warm morning. The besiegers' fire, +intended no doubt to distract attention from the movements in the +Tchernaya, was constantly increasing. + +"What dog's errand is this they sent me on?" growled the Cossack +officer, as a shell burst close to him and killed one of the escort. + +"Faster! faster!" + +And still, harassed by shot and shell, they pushed on. + +All this time the road led by the water's edge; but presently they +left it, and, crossing the head of a creek, mounted a steep hill, +which brought them to the Karabel suburb, as it was called, a detached +part of the main town, now utterly wrecked and ruined by the +besiegers' fire. + +The Cossack officer made his way to a large barrack occupying a +central elevated position, and dismounted at the principal doorway. + +"Is it thou, Stoschberg?" cried a friend who came out to meet him. +"Here, in Sebastopol?" + +"To my sorrow. Where is the general? I have news for him. The enemy +are moving in force upon the Tchernaya." + +"Ha! is it so? And that has brought you here?" + +"That, and the escort of yonder villain--a rascally spy, whom we +caught last night in our lines." + +"Bring him along too; the general may wish to question him." + +McKay was unbound, ordered to dismount, and then, still under escort, +was marched into the building. It was roofless, but an inner chamber +had been constructed--a cellar, so to speak--under the ground-floor, +with a roof of its own of rammed earth many feet thick, supported by +heavy beams. This was one of the famous casemates invented by +Todleben, impervious to shot and shell, and affording a safe shelter +to the troops. + +McKay was halted at the door or aperture, across which hung a common +yellow rug. The officers passed in, and their voices, with others, +were heard in animated discussion, which lasted some minutes; then the +one called Stoschberg came out and fetched McKay. + +He found himself in an underground apartment plainly but comfortably +furnished. In the centre, under a hanging lamp, was a large table +covered with maps and plans, and at the table sat a tall, handsome +man, still in the prime of life. He was dressed in the usual long +plain great-coat of coarse drab cloth, but he had shoulder-straps of +broad gold lace, and his flat muffin cap lying in front of him was +similarly ornamented. This personage, an officer of rank evidently, +looked up sharply, and addressed McKay in French. + +"What is the meaning of this movement in the Tchernaya?" he asked. +"You understand French of course? People of your trade speak all +tongues." + +"I speak French," replied McKay, "but English is my native tongue. I +am a British officer--" + +"I have told you of his pretensions, Excellency," interposed the +Cossack officer. + +"Yes, yes! this is mere waste of time. What is the meaning of this +movement in the Tchernaya, I repeat? Tell me, and I may save your +life." + +"You have no right to ask me that question, and I decline to answer +it, whatever the risk." + +"An obstinate fellow, truly!" said the general, half to himself. "What +do you call yourself?" + +Then followed a conversation very similar to that which had taken +place at Tchorgoun. + +"I, too, knew your father," said the general, shaking his head. "It is +a bad case; I fear you must expect the worst." + +"I shall meet it as a soldier should," replied McKay, stoutly. "But I +shall always protest, even with my dying breath, that I have been +foully and shamefully used. I appeal to you, a Russian officer of +high rank, of whose name I am ignorant--" + +"My name is Todleben, of the Imperial Engineers." + +McKay started, and, notwithstanding the imminent peril of his +position, looked with interest upon the man who was known, even in the +British lines, as the heart and soul of the defence. + +"I appeal to you, sir," he pleaded, "as a general officer, a man of +high honour and known integrity, to protect me from outrage." + +"I can do nothing," replied Todleben, gravely, shrugging his +shoulders. "The Prince himself will decide. Take him away. I cannot +waste time with him if he is not disposed to speak. Let him be kept a +close prisoner until the Prince is ready to see him." + +The general then bent his head over his plans, and took no further +notice of McKay. + +Our hero was again marched into the yard, made to remount, re-bound, +and led off towards the principal part of the town. They now skirted +the ridge of the Karabel suburb, and began to descend. Half way down +they came upon a series of excavations in the side of the hill. These +were old caves that had been enlarged and strengthened with timbers +and earth. Each had its own doorway, a massive piece of palisading. +They were used as barracks, casemated, and practically safe during the +siege. Into one of these McKay was taken; it was empty; the men who +occupied it were on duty just then at the Creek Battery below. In one +corner lay a heap of straw and old blankets, filthy, and infested with +the liveliest vermin. + +One of the escort pointed to this uninviting bed, and told the +prisoner he might rest himself there. McKay, weary and disconsolate, +gladly threw himself upon this loathsome couch. They might shoot him +next morning, but for the time at least he could forget all his cares +in sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +FROM THE DEAD. + + +We have seen how the news of Stanislas McKay's capture by the Russians +was communicated to his uncle, Mr. Faulks. + +Next day the brief telegram announcing it was published in the morning +papers, with many strong comments. Although some blamed the young +officer for his rashness, and others held Lord Raglan directly +responsible for his loss, all agreed in execrating the vindictive +cruelty of the uncompromising foe. + +General sympathy was expressed for Mr. McKay; the most august person +in the land sent a message of condolence to his mother through Lord +Essendine, who added a few kindly words on his own account. + +"What curse lies heavy on our line? It seems fatal to come within +reach of heirship to the family-honours. Ere long there will be no +Wilders left, and the title of Essendine will become extinct," wrote +the old peer to Mrs. McKay. "Your boy, a fine, fearless young fellow, +whom I neglected too long and who deserved a nobler fate, is the +latest victim. Pray Heaven he may yet escape! I will strive hard to +help him in his present dire peril." + +Lord Essendine was as good as his word. He had great influence, +political and diplomatic: great friends in high place at every court +in Europe. Among others, the Russian ambassador at Vienna was under +personal obligations to him of long standing, and did not hesitate +when called upon to acknowledge the debt. + +Telegrams came and went from London to Vienna, from Vienna to St. +Petersburg, backwards and forwards day after day, yet nothing was +effected by Lord Essendine's anxious, energetic advocacy. The Czar +himself was appealed to, but the Autocrat of All the Russias would not +deign to intervene. He was inexorable. The law military must take its +course. Stanislas McKay was a traitor and the son of a traitor; he had +been actually taken red-handed in a new and still deeper treachery, +and he must suffer for his crime. + +At the end of the first fortnight McKay's relations and friends in +England had almost abandoned hope. This was what Mr. Faulks told Mrs. +Wilders, who called every day two or three times, always in the +deepest distress. + +"Poor boy! poor boy!" she said, wringing her hands. "To be cut off +like this! It is too terrible! And nothing--you are sure nothing can +be done to save him?" + +"Lord Essendine is making the most strenuous efforts; so are we. Even +Sir Humphrey Fothergill has been most kind; and the War Minister has +repeatedly telegraphed to Lord Raglan to leave no stone unturned." + +"And all without effect? It is most sad!" She would have feigned the +same excessive grief with the Essendine lawyers, to whom she also paid +several visits, but the senior partner's cold eye and cynical smile +checked her heroics. + +"You will not be the loser by poor McKay's removal," he said, with +brutal frankness, one day when she had rather overdone her part. + +"As if I thought of that!" she replied, with supreme indignation. + +"It is impossible for you not to think of it, my dear madam. It would +not be human nature. Why shouldn't you? Mr. McKay was no relation." + +"He was my dear dead husband's devoted friend. Nursed him after his +wound--" + +"I remember to have heard that, and indeed everything that is good, of +Mr. McKay. I feel sure he would have made an excellent Earl of +Essendine; more's the pity." + +"I trust my son, if he inherits, will worthily maintain the credit of +the house." + +"So do I, my dear madam," said old Mr. Burt, with a bow that made the +speech a less doubtful compliment. + +"When will it be settled? Why do they hesitate? Why delay?" she said +to herself passionately, as she went homewards to Thistle Grove. Her +friend Mr. Hobson was there, waiting for her; and she repeated the +question with a fierce anxiety that proved how closely it concerned +her. + +"How impatient you grow! Like every woman. Everything must be done at +once." + +"I am not safe yet. I begin to doubt." + +"Can't you trust me? I have assured you it will end as you wish. When +have I disappointed you, Lady Lydstone?" + +She started at the sound of this name, once familiar, but surrounded +now by memories at once painful and terrible. + +"It is the rule in your English peerage that when a son becomes a +great peer, and the mother is only a commoner, to give her one of the +titles. Your Queen does it by prerogative." + +"I might have been Lady Lydstone by right, if I had waited," she said +slowly. + +"And you repent it? Bah! it is too late. Be satisfied. You will be +rich, a great lady, respected--" + +She made a gesture of dissent. + +"Yes; respected. Great ladies always are. You can marry again--whom +you please; me, for instance--" + +Again the gesture: dissent mixed with unmistakable disgust. + +"You are not too flattering, Cyprienne. Do not presume on my +good-nature, and remember--" + +"What, pray?" + +"What you owe me. I am entitled to claim my reward. You must repay me +some day." + +"By marrying you?" + +Her voice, as usual, began to tremble when she found herself in +antagonism with this man. + +"If that be the price I ask. Why not? We ought to be happy together. +We have so much in common, so many secrets--" + +"Enough of this!" she said shortly, but not bravely. + +"And to be Lady Lydstone's husband would give me a certain status--a +sufficient income. I could help you to educate the boy, whom, +by-the-way, I have never seen. Yes; the notion pleases me. I will be +your second--I beg your pardon, your third husband, probably your +last." + +"I must beg of you, Hippolyte, to be careful; I hear some one coming." + +It was the Swiss butler, who entered rather timidly to say a gentleman +had called on important business. + +"What business? Surely you have not admitted him? If so, you shall +leave my service. You know it is contrary to my express orders." + +"He said you would see him, madam; that he came on the part of a +friend, a very ancient friend, whose name I had but to tell you--" + +"What name? Go on, Francois." + +"The name--it is difficult. Ru--" he spoke very slowly, struggling +with the strangeness of the sounds. "Ru--pert--Gas--" + +"Who can this be?" Mrs. Wilders had turned very white and now beckoned +Hobson to step out into the garden. "Is it a message from beyond the +grave?" + +"Coward!" cried her companion contemptuously. "The Seine seldom +surrenders its prey. Rupert Gascoigne is dead--drowned, as you know, +fourteen years ago." + +"But this visitor knew him--he knows of my connection with him. Else +why come in his name? Oh, Hippolyte, I tremble! Help me. Support me in +my interview with this strange man." + +"No; it would not be safe. If he knew Rupert Gascoigne, he may, too, +have known Ledantec. I will not meet him." + +"Who is the coward now?" + +"I do not choose to run unnecessary risks. But I will help you--to +this extent. See the man, if you must see him, in the double +drawing-room. I will be within call." + +"And earshot? I understand." + +"Well, what can I overhear--about you, at least--that I do not know +already? In any case I could help you." + +It was so arranged. Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the +stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room. + +"Mr. Hyde," she began, composedly and very stiffly, "may I inquire the +meaning of this intrusion? You are a perfect stranger--" + +"Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette. Have years so changed me--?" + +"Rupert? Impossible!" she half-shrieked. "Rupert is dead. He died--was +drowned--when--" + +"You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely +accused of a foul crime." + +"I cannot--will not believe it. You are an impostor; you have assumed +a dead man's name." + +"My identity is easily proved, Cyprienne Vergette, and the relation in +which I stand to you." + +"What brings you here to vex me, after all these years? I always hated +you. I left you--Why cannot you leave me in peace?" + +"God knows I had no wish to see or speak to you again. The world was +wide enough for us both. We should have remained for ever apart, but +for your latest and foulest crime." + +"What false, lying charge is this you would trump up against me?" + +"The murder of my dearest friend and comrade. Murder twice attempted. +The first failed; the second, I fear, will prove fatal. If so, look to +yourself, madam." + +"What can you do?" she said, impudently, having regained much of her +old effrontery. + +"Prevent you from reaping the fruits of your iniquity. You know you +were never General Wilders's wife; you were always mine. Worse luck!" + +"You cannot prove it. You are dead. You dare not reappear." + +"Wait and see," he replied, very coolly. + +"You have no proofs, I say, of the marriage." + +"They are safe at the Mairie, in Paris. French archives are carefully +kept. I have only to ask for a certificate; it's easy enough." + +"For any one who could go there. But how will you dare to show +yourself in Paris? You are proscribed; a price is set on your head. +Your life would be forfeited." + +"I will risk all that, and more, to ruin your wicked game." + +"Do so at your peril." + +"You threaten me, vile wretch? Be careful. The measure of your +iniquity is nearly full. Punishment must soon overtake you; your +misdeeds are well known; your complicity with--" + +Why should he tell her? Why warn her of the net that was closing round +her, and thus help her to escape from the toils? + +But she had caught at his words. + +"Complicity?" she repeated, anxiously. "With whom?" + +"No matter. Only look to yourself. It is war, war to the knife, +unquenchable war between us, remember that." + +And with these words he left the house. + +Although she had shown a bold front, Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still +call her, was greatly agitated by this stormy scene, and it was with a +blanched cheek and faltering step that she sought her confederate in +the next room. + +Mr. Hobson was gone. + +"Coward! he has easily taken alarm. To desert me at the moment that I +most need advice and help!" + +But she did her friend injustice, as a letter that came from him in +the course of a few hours fully proved. + +"I heard enough," wrote Mr. Hobson, "to satisfy me that the devil is +unchained and means mischief. I never thought to see R. G. again. We +must watch him now closely, and know all his movements. If he goes to +Paris, as I heard him threaten, he will give himself into our hands. I +shall follow, in spite of the risks I run. One word of warning to the +Prefecture will put the police on his track. Arrest, removal to Mazas, +Cayenne, or by the guillotine--what matter which?--will be his +inevitable fate. The French law is implacable. His _dossier_ (criminal +biography) is in the hands of the authorities, and will be easily +produced. There must be numbers of people still living in Paris who +could identify him at once, in spite of his beard and bronzed face. I +can, if need be, although I would rather not make myself too prominent +just now. Be tranquil; he will not be able to injure us. It is his own +doom that he is preparing." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN PARIS. + + +Years had passed since Hyde--he was Rupert Gascoigne then--had last +been in Paris. The memory of that last sojourn and the horrors of it +still clung to him--his arrest, unjust trial, escape. His bold leap +into the swift Seine, his rescue by a passing river steamer, on which, +thanks to a plausible tale, in which he explained away the slight +flesh-wound he had received from the gendarme's pistol, he found +employment as a stoker, and so got to Rouen, thence to Havre and the +sea. + +Willingly he would never have returned to the place where he had so +nearly fallen a victim. But he was impelled by a stern sense of duty; +he came now as an avenging spirit to unmask and punish those who had +plotted against him and his friend--unscrupulous miscreants who were a +curse to the world. + +He took up his quarters in a large new hotel upon the Boulevards. + +Paris had changed greatly in these years. The Second Empire, with its +swarm of hastily-enriched adventurers, had already done much to +beautify and improve the city. Life was more than ever gay in this the +chief home of pleasure-seekers. Luxury of the showiest kind everywhere +in the ascendant; smart equipages and gaily-dressed crowds, the +shop-fronts glittering with artistic treasures, everyone outwardly +happy, and leading a careless, joyous existence. + +Englishmen, officers especially, were just now welcome guests in +Paris. Mr. Hyde, of the Royal Picts, as he entered himself upon the +hotel register, with his soldierly air, his Crimean beard, and his arm +in a sling, attracted general attention. He was treated with +extraordinary politeness everywhere by the most polite people in the +world. When he asked a question a dozen answers were ready for him--a +dozen officious friends were prepared to escort him anywhere. + +But Rupert Hyde wanted no one to teach him his way about Paris. Within +an hour of his arrival, after he had hastily changed the garments he +had worn on the night journey, had sallied forth, and, entering the +long Rue Lafayette, made straight to the headquarters of the 21st +_arrondissement_. Urgent business of a public nature had brought him +to Paris, but this was a private matter which he desired to dispose of +before he attended to anything else. + +The place he sought was easily found. It was a plain gateway of +yellowish-white stone, over which hung a brand-new tricolour from a +flag-staff fixed at an angle, and on either side a striped sentry-box +containing a _Garde de Paris_. + +The gateway led into a courtyard, in which were half-a-dozen +loungers, clustered chiefly around the entrance to a handsome flight +of stone steps within the building. + +Just within this second entrance was a functionary, half beadle, half +hall-porter, wearing a low-crowned cocked hat and a suit of bright +blue cloth plentifully adorned with buttons, to whom Hyde addressed +himself. + +"The office of M. the Mayor, if you please." + +"Upstairs; take the first turn to the right, and then--" + +"But surely I know that voice!" said some one behind Hyde, who had +turned round quickly. + +"What, you!" went on the speaker; "my excellent English comrade--here +in Paris! Oh, joyful surprise!" + +"Is it you? M. Anatole Belhomme, of the Voltigeurs? You have left the +Crimea? Is Sebastopol taken? the Russians all massacred, then?" + +"It is I who was massacred--almost. I received a ball, here in my +leg, and was invalided last month. But you also have suffered, +comrade." And Anatole pointed to Hyde's arm in a sling. + +"Nothing much. Only the kick of a horse; it does not prevent me moving +about, as you see." + +"But what brings you to Paris, my good friend?" + +"I am seeking some family documents--to substantiate an inheritance. +They are here in the archives of the Mairie." + +"How? You were seeking the office of M. the Mayor? You?" And M. +Anatole proceeded to scrutinise Hyde slowly and minutely from head to +foot. "You, a veteran with your arm in a sling, and that brown +beard--brown mixed with grey. It is strange--most strange." + +"Well, comrade," replied Hyde, laughing a little uneasily, "you ought +to know me again." + +"Lose no time, friend, in getting what you want from the Mairie. Come: +I will go with you. Come: you may be prevented if you delay." + +These words aroused Hyde's suspicions. Had Cyprienne warned the French +police to be on the look-out for him? + +"But, Anatole, explain. Why do you lay such stress on this?" he asked. + +"Do as I tell you--first, the papers. I will explain by-and-by." + +There was no mistaking Anatole, and Hyde accordingly hastened +upstairs. Anatole indicated the door of an antechamber, which Hyde +entered alone. It was a large, bare room, with a long counter--inside +were a couple of desks, and at them sat several clerks--small people +wielding a very brief authority--who looked contemptuously at him over +their ledgers, and allowed him to stand there waiting without the +slightest acknowledgment of his existence for nearly a quarter of an +hour. + +"I have come for a certificated extract from the registers of a civil +marriage contracted here on the 27th April, 184--" he said, at length, +in a loud, indignant voice. + +The inquiry had the effect of an electrical shock. Two clerks at once +jumped from their stools; one went into an inner room, the other came +to the counter where Hyde stood. + +"Your name?" he asked, abruptly. "Your papers, domicile, place of +birth, age. The names of the parties to the contract of marriage." + +Hyde replied without hesitation, producing his passport, a new one +made out in the name of Hyde, describing his appearance, and setting +forth his condition as an officer in Her Britannic Majesty's Regiment +of Royal Picts. + +While he was thus engaged, an elderly, portly personage, wearing a +tricolour sash which was just visible under his waistcoat, came out +from the inner room, and, taking up the passport, looked at it, and +then at Hyde. + +"Is that your name? Yes? It is different," he went on, audibly, but to +himself, "although the description tallies. You are an English +officer, domiciled at the Hotel Imperial, Boulevard de la Madeleine. I +do not quite understand." + +"Surely it is only a simple matter!" pleaded Hyde. "Monsieur, I seek a +marriage certificate." + +"For what purpose?" + +"As a claim for an inheritance." + +"Nothing more, eh!" said the Mayor, suspiciously. "Have you any one, +any friend, who will answer for you, here?" + +"No one nearer than the British Embassy, except--to be sure--" he +suddenly thought of Anatole, who still waited outside, and who came in +at the summons of his friend. + +"Oh, you are with Monsieur?" The official's face brightened the moment +he saw Anatole. "It is all right, then. Give the gentleman the +certificate. This friend"--he laid the slightest stress on the +word--"will be answerable for him, of course." + +"Now, Anatole, tell me what all this means," said Hyde, as he left the +Mairie with the document he deemed of so much importance in his +pocket. + +"Not here," said the Frenchman, looking over his shoulder, nervously. +"Let us go somewhere out of sight." + +"The nearest wine-shop--I have not breakfasted yet, have you? A bottle +of red seal would suit you, I dare say," said Hyde, remembering +Anatole's little weakness. + +"It is not to be refused. I am with you, comrade. At the sign of the +'Pinched Nose' we shall find the best of everything," replied Anatole, +heartily, and the pair passed into the street. + +It was barely a dozen yards to the wine-shop, and they walked there +arm-in-arm in boisterous good-fellowship, elbowing their way through +the crowd in a manner that was not exactly popular. + +"Take care, imbecile!" cried one hulking fellow whom Anatole had +shouldered off the path. + +"Make room, then," replied our friend, rudely. + +"Would you dare--" began the other, in a menacing voice, adding some +words in a lower tone. + +"Excuse. I was in the wrong," said Anatole, suddenly humbled. + +"You are right to avoid a quarrel," remarked Hyde, when they were +seated at table. He had been quietly amused at his companion's easy +surrender. + +"I could have eaten him raw. But why should I? He is, perhaps, a +father of a family--the support of a widowed mother: if I had +destroyed him they might have come to want. No; let him go." + +"All the same, he does not seem inclined to go. There he is, still +lurking about the front of the shop." + +"Truly? Where?" asked Anatole, in evident perturbation. "Bah! we will +tire him of that. By the time we have finished a second bottle--" + +"Or a third, if you will!" cried Hyde, cheerfully. + +They had their breakfast--the most savoury dishes; ham and sour crout, +tripe after the mode of Caen, rich ripe Roquefort cheese, and had +disposed of three bottles of a rather rough but potent red wine, +before Anatole would speak on any but the most common-place topics. The +Crimea, the dreadful winter, the punishment administered to their +common enemy, occupied him exclusively. + +But with the fourth bottle he became more communicative. + +"You owe a long candle to your saint for your luck to-day in meeting +me," he said, with a slight hiccup. + +"Ah! how so?" + +"Had not I been there to give you protection you would now be under +lock and key in the depot of the Prefecture." + +Hyde, in spite of himself, shuddered as he thought of his last +detention in that unsavoury prison. + +"What, then, have you done, my English friend?" went on Anatole, with +drunken solemnity. "Why should the police seek your arrest?" + +"But do they? I cannot believe it." + +"It is as I tell you. I myself am in the 'cuisine' (the Prefecture). +Since my return from the war my illustrious services have been +rewarded by an appointment of great trust." + +"In other words, you are now a police-agent, and you were set to watch +for some one like me." + +"Why not you?" asked Anatole, trying, but in vain, to fix him with his +watery eyes. "In any case," he went on, "I wish to serve a comrade--at +risk to myself, perhaps." + +"You shall not suffer for it, never fear, in the long run. Count +always upon me." + +"They may say that I have betrayed my trust; that I put friendship +before duty. That has always been my error; I have too soft a heart." + +Anatole now began to cry with emotion at his own chivalrous +self-sacrifice, which changed quickly into bravado as he cried, +striking the table noisily-- + +"Who cares? I would save you from the Prefect himself." + +At this moment the big man who had been watching at the window +returned, accompanied by two others. He walked straight towards the +door of the wine-shop. + +"_Sacre bleu! le patron_ (chief). You are lost! Quick! take me by the +throat." + +Hyde jumped to his feet and promptly obeyed the curious command. + +"Now struggle; throw me to the ground, bolt through the back door," +whispered Anatole, hastily. + +All which Hyde executed promptly and punctiliously. Anatole suffered +him to do as he pleased, and Hyde escaped through the back entrance +just as the other policemen rushed in at the front. + +"After him! Run! Fifty francs to whoever stops him!" + +But Hyde had the heels of them. He ran out and through a little +courtyard at the back communicating with the street. There he found a +_fiacre_, into which he jumped, shouting to the cabman-- + +"Drive on straight ahead! A napoleon for yourself." + +In this way he distanced his pursuers, and half-an-hour later regained +his hotel by a long detour. + +Rather agitated and exhausted by the events of the morning, Hyde went +upstairs to his own room to rest and review his situation. + +"It is quite evident," he said to himself, "that Cyprienne has tried +to turn the tables on me. I was too open with her. It was incautious +of me to show my hand so soon. Of course the police have been set upon +me--the accused and still unjudged perpetrator of the crime in +Tinplate Street--by her. But has she acted alone in this? + +"I doubt it. I doubt whether she would have come to Paris with that +express purpose, or whether the police would have listened to her if +she had. + +"But who assisted her? Some one from whom she has no secrets. Were it +not that such a woman is likely to have set up the closest relations +with other miscreants in these past years, I should say that her agent +and accomplice was Ledantec. Ledantec is still alive; I know that, for +I saw him myself on the field of the Alma, rifling the dead. + +"Ledantec! We have an old score to settle, he and I. What if he +should be mixed up in this business that brings me to Paris? It is +quite likely. That would explain his presence in the Crimea, which +hitherto has seemed so strange. I never could believe that so daring +and unscrupulous a villain had degenerated into a camp-follower, +hungry for plunder gained in the basest way. It could not have been +merely to prey upon the dead that he followed in the wake of our army. +Far more likely that he was a secret agent of the enemy. If so then, +so still, most probably. What luck if these damaging clues that I hold +should lead me also to him! + +"But it is evident that I shall do very little if I continue to go +about as Rupert Hyde. The police are on the alert: my movements would +soon be interfered with, and, although I have no fear now of being +unable to prove my innocence, arrest and detention of any kind might +altogether spoil my game. + +"I must assume some disguise, and to protect myself and my case I will +do so with the full knowledge of the Embassy. It will do if I go there +within an hour. By this evening at latest the police will certainly be +here after Rupert Hyde." + +It must be mentioned here that the police of Paris are supposed to be +acquainted with the names of all visitors residing in the city. The +rule may be occasionally relaxed, as now, but under the despotism of +Napoleon III. it was enforced with a rigorous exactitude. + +Hyde had been barely half-a-dozen hours in Paris, but already his name +was inscribed upon the hotel-register awaiting the inspection of the +police, who would undoubtedly call that same day to note all new +arrivals. + +Before starting for the Embassy, Hyde sat down and wrote a couple of +rather lengthy letters, both for England, which he addressed, and +himself posted at the corner of the Rue Royale. + +Thence he went on, down the Faubourg St. Honore, not many hundred +yards, and soon passed under the gateway ornamented with the arms of +Great Britain, and stood upon what, by international agreement, was +deemed a strip of British soil. + +He saw an _attache_, to whom he quickly explained himself. + +"You wish to pursue the investigation yourself, I gather? Is it worth +while running such a risk? Why not hand over the whole business to the +Prefecture? I believe they have already put a watch upon the persons +suspected." + +"I have no confidence in their doing it as surely as I would myself." + +Hyde, it will be understood, had his own reasons for not wishing to +present himself at the Prefecture. + +"You propose to assume a disguise? As you please; but how can we help +you?" + +"By giving me papers in exchange for my passport, which you can hold, +and by sending after me if I do not reappear within two or three +days." + +"You anticipate trouble, then; danger, perhaps." + +"Not necessarily, but it is as well to take precautions." + +"Is there anything else?" + +"Yes; I should like to bring my disguise and put it on here. In the +porter's lodge, a back office--anywhere." + +The _attache_ promised to get the ambassador's permission, which was +accorded in due course, and that same afternoon Hyde entered the +Embassy a well-dressed English gentleman, and came out an evil-looking +ruffian, wearing the blue blouse and high silk cap of the working +classes. One sleeve of the blouse hung loose across his chest, as +though he had lost his arm, but his injured limb was safe underneath +the garment. His beard was trimmed close, and on either side of his +forehead were two great curls, plastered flat on the temple, after the +fashion so popular with French roughs. + +In this attire he plunged into the lowest depths of the city. + +Amongst the papers seized at the Maltese baker's in Kadikoi were +several that gave an address in Paris. This place was referred to +constantly as the headquarters of the organisation which supplied the +Russian enemy with intelligence, and at which a certain mysterious +person--the leading spirit evidently of the whole nefarious +company--was to be found. + +"I'll find out all about him and his confederates before I'm many +hours older," said Hyde, confidently, as he presented himself at the +porter's lodge of a tall, six-storied house, of mean and forbidding +aspect, close to the Faubourg St. Martin. It was let out in small +lodgings to tenants as decayed and disreputable as their domicile. + +"M. Sabatier?" asked Hyde, boldly, of the porter. + +"On the fifth floor, the third door to the right," was the reply. + +Hyde mounted the stairs and knocked at the door indicated. + +"Well?" asked an old woman who opened it. + +"The patron--is he here? I must speak to him." + +"Who are you? What brings you?" The old woman still held the door +ajar, and denied him admission. + +"I have news from the Crimea--important news--from the Maltese." + +"Joe?" asked the old woman, still suspicious. + +Hyde nodded, and said sharply-- + +"Be quick! The patron must know at once. You will have to answer for +this delay." + +"He is absent--come again to-morrow," replied the old woman, sulkily. + +"It will be worse for him--for all of us--if he does not see me at +once." + +"I tell you he is absent. You must come again;" and with that the +woman shut the door in his face. + +What was Hyde to do now? Watch outside? That would hardly be safe. The +police, he knew, were on the look-out already, and they would be +suspicious of any one engaged in the same game. + +There was nothing for it but to take the old woman's reply for truth +and wait till the following day. Hyde knew his Paris well enough to +find a third-class hotel or lodging-house suitable for such a man as +he now seemed, and here, after wandering through the streets for +hours, dining at a low restaurant and visiting the gallery of a +theatre, he sought and easily obtained a bed. + +Next day he returned to the Faubourg St. Martin and was met with the +same answer. The patron was still absent. + +Hyde was beginning to despair; but he resolved to wait one more day, +intending, if still unsuccessful, to surrender the business to other +hands. + +But on the third day he was admitted. + +"The patron will see you," said the old woman, as she led him into a +small but well-lighted room communicating with another, into which she +passed, locking the door behind her. + +They kept him waiting ten minutes or more, during which he had an +uncomfortable feeling he was being watched, although he could not tell +exactly how or from where. + +There was really a small eye-hole in the wall opposite, of the kind +called in French a "Judas," and such as is used in prisons to observe +the inmates of the cells. Through this, Hyde had been subjected to a +long and patient examination. + +It was apparently satisfactory; for presently the inner door was +unlocked, and the old woman returned, followed by a man whom we have +seen before. + +It was Mr. Hobson in person; Ledantec really, as Hyde immediately saw, +in spite of the smug, smooth exterior, the British-cut whiskers, and +the unmistakable British garb. + +"Here is the patron," said the old woman; "tell him what you have to +say." + +Hyde, addressing himself to Mr. Hobson, began his story in the most +perfect French he could command. He spoke the language well, and had +no reason to fear that his accent would betray him. + +"The patron speaks no French," put in the old woman. "You ought to +know that. Tell me, and I will interpret." + +Mr. Hobson played his part closely, that was clear. A Frenchman by +birth, he could hardly be ignorant of or have forgotten his own +tongue. + +Hyde, following these instructions, told his story in the briefest +words. How Valetta Joe had been seized, his shop ransacked, and many +compromising papers brought to light. + +"Ask him how he knows this," said Mr. Hobson quietly. + +"My brother has written to me from the Crimea. He was in the camp when +the baker was seized." + +"What is his brother's name?" + +"Eugene Chabot, of the 39th Algerian battalion." + +This was a name given in the papers seized. + +"Was it he who gave this address? How did the fellow come here? Ask +him that." + +"Yes," Hyde said; he had learned the patron's address from his +brother, who had urged him to come and tell what had happened without +a moment's delay. + +Mr. Hobson, _alias_ Ledantec, had listened attentively to this +friendly message as it was interpreted to him bit by bit, but without +betraying the slightest concern. Suddenly he changed his demeanour. + +_"Ecoutez-moi!"_ he cried in excellent French, looking up and darting +a fierce look at the man in front of him. "Listen! You have played a +bold game and lost it. You did not hold a sufficiently strong hand." + +Hyde stood sullenly silent and unconcerned, but he felt he was +discovered. + +"In your charming and for the most part veracious story there is only +one slight mistake, my good friend." + +"I do not understand." + +"I will tell you. Eugene Chabot, your brother?--yes; your brother. +Well, he could not have written to you as you tell me--" + +"But I assure you--" + +"For the simple reason, that, just one week before the seizure of +Valetta Joe, Chabot was killed--in a sortie from the enemy's lines." + +"Impossible! I--" + +"Have been lying throughout and must take the consequences. You have +thrust your head into the lion's jaw. Hold!" + +Seeing that Hyde had thrust his one hand beneath his blouse, seeking, +no doubt, for some concealed weapon, Hobson suddenly struck a bell on +the table before him. + +Four men rushed in. + +"Seize him before he can use his arm! Seize him, and unmask him!" + +The ruffians, laying violent hands on Hyde, tore off his blouse and +dragged the wig with its elaborate curls from his head. In the +struggle he gave a sharp cry of pain. They had touched too roughly the +still helpless arm which hung in its sling beneath the blouse. + +"Ah! I knew I could not be mistaken. It is you, then, Rupert +Gascoigne! I thought I recognised you from the first, although it is +years and years since we met." + +"Not quite, villain! Cowardly traitor, murderer, despoiler of the +dead!" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"That I saw you at your craven work just after the Alma; you ought to +have been shot then. The world would have been well rid of a +miscreant." + +"Pretty language, truly, Mr. Gascoigne! I must strive to deserve it." + +"What are you going to do with me?" + +"I am not sure. Only do not hope for mercy. You know too much. I might +make away with you at once--" + +"But why spill blood?" he went on, musing aloud. "The guillotine will +do your business in due course if I hand you over to the law. That +will be best, safest; the most complete riddance, perhaps." + +There was a pause. + +"You see you are altogether in my power," said Ledantec, "either way. +But I am not unreasonable. I am prepared to spare you--for the +present," he said, with an evil smile--"only for the present, and +according as you may behave." + +"On what conditions will you spare me--for the present?" asked Hyde, +elated at the unexpected chance thus given him. + +"Tell me how you came to know of this address. Who sent you here?" + +"Valetta Joe, the Maltese baker at Kadikoi." + +"Describe him to me," asked Ledantec, to try Hyde. + +Hyde had seen Joe more than once in his rides through the hut-town, +and his answer was perfectly satisfactory. + +"Did he send any message?" + +"Just what I have told you. I was to let you know of his arrest and of +the danger you would run." + +Ledantec was deceived by the straightforward and unhesitating way in +which Hyde told his story. + +"It may be so. At any rate, the warning must not be despised. Whether +or not you are to be trusted remains to be seen. But I will keep you +safe for a day or two longer and see what turns up. In any case you +cannot do much mischief to Cyprienne while shut fast here." + +"Cyprienne?" said Hyde, quite innocently. + +"I am quite aware of one reason that brought you to Paris, but, as I +have said, you cannot well execute your threats so long as we hold you +tight." + +Hyde shook his head as though these remarks were completely +unintelligible. But he laughed within himself at the thought that he +had already outwitted both Cyprienne and her accomplice, and that, +wherever he was, a prisoner or at large, events would work out her +discomfiture without him. + +He had no fears for himself. They had promised him at the British +Embassy that he should be sought out if he did not reappear within +three days. Besides, the French police had their eyes on the house. +The tables would presently be turned upon his captors in a way that +they little expected. + +When, therefore, he was led by Ledantec's orders into a little back +room dimly lighted by a window looking on to a blank wall, he went +like a lamb. But physically he was not particularly comfortable; there +were pleasanter ways of spending the day than tied hand and foot to +the legs of a bedstead, and Ledantec's farewell speech was calculated +to disturb his equanimity. + +"Don't make a sound or a move, mind. If you do--" and he produced a +glittering knife, with a look that could not be misunderstood. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SUSPENSE. + + +McKay must have slept for many hours. Daylight was fading, and the den +he occupied was nearly dark, when he was aroused by the voices of his +Russian fellow-lodgers coming off duty for the night. + +They were rough, simple fellows most of them: boorish peasants torn +from their village homes, and forced to fight in their Czar's quarrel, +which he was pleased to call a holy war. Coarse, uncultivated, but not +unkindly, and they gathered around McKay, staring curiously at him, +and plying him with questions. + +His command of their language soon established amicable relations, and +presently, when supper was ready, a nauseous mess of _kasha_, or thick +oatmeal porridge, boiled with salt pork, they hospitably invited him +to partake. He was a prisoner, but an honoured guest, and they freely +pressed their flasks of _vodkhi_ upon him when with great difficulty +he had swallowed a few spoonfulls of the black porridge. + +They talked, too, incessantly, notwithstanding their fatigue, always +on the same subject, this interminable siege. + +"It's weary work," said one. "I long for home." + +"They will never take the place; Father Todleben will see to that. Why +do they not go, and leave us in peace?" + +"It is killing work: in the batteries day and night; always in danger +under this hellish fire. This is the best place. You are better off, +comrade, than we" (this was to McKay); "for you are safe under cover +here, and in the open a man may be killed at any time." + +"He has dangers of his own to face," said the under-officer in charge +of the barrack, grimly. "Do not envy him till after to-morrow." + +McKay heard these words without emotion. He was too wretched, too much +dulled by misfortune and the misery of his present condition, to feel +fresh pain. + +Yet he slept again, and was in a dazed, half-stupid state when they +fetched him out next morning and marched him down to the water's edge, +where he was put into a man-of-war's boat and rowed across to the +north side of the harbour. + +Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian commander-in-chief, had sent for him, +and about noon he was taken before the great man, who had his +headquarters in the Star Fort, well out of reach of the besiegers' +fire. + +The Prince, a portly, imposing figure, of haughty demeanour, and +speaking imperiously, accosted McKay very curtly. + +"I know all about you. Whether you are spy or traitor matters little: +your life is forfeited. But I will spare it on one condition. Tell me +unreservedly what is going on in the enemy's lines." + +"I should indeed deserve your unjust epithets if I replied," was all +McKay's answer. + +"What reinforcements have reached the allies lately?" went on the +Prince, utterly ignoring McKay's refusal, and looking at him fiercely. +"Speak out at once." + +Our hero bore the gaze unflinchingly, and said nothing. + +"We know that the French Imperial Guard have arrived, and that many +new regiments have joined the English. Is an immediate attack +contemplated?" + +McKay was still silent. + +"Ill-conditioned, obstinate fool!" cried the Prince, angrily. "It is +your only chance. Speak, or prepare to die!" + +"You have no right to press me thus. I refuse distinctly to betray my +own side." + +"Your own side! You are a Russian--it is your duty to tell us. But I +will not bandy words with you. Let him be taken back to a place of +safety and await my orders." + +Once more McKay gave himself up for lost. When he regained the +wretched casemate that was his prison he hardly hoped to leave it, +except when summoned for execution. + +But that day passed without incident, a second also, and a third. +Still our hero found himself alive. + +Had they forgotten him? Or were they too busily engaged to attend to +so small a matter as sending him out of the world. + +The latter seemed most probable. Another bombardment, the most +incessant and terrible of any that preceded it, as McKay thought. +Although hidden away, so to speak, in the bowels of the earth, he +plainly heard the continuous cannonade, the roar of the round-shot, +the murderous music of the shells as they sang through the air, and +presently exploded with tremendous noise. + +He was to have a still livelier experience of the terrible mischief +caused by the ceaseless fire of his friends. + +Late in the afternoon of the fourth day he was called forth, always in +imminent peril of his life, and taken round the head of a harbour +which was filled with men-of-war, past the Creek Battery, and up into +the main town. They halted him at the door of a handsome building, +greatly dilapidated by round-shot and shell. This was the naval +library, the highest spot in Sebastopol, a centre and focus of danger, +but just now occupied by the chiefs of the Russian garrison. + +McKay waited, wondering what would happen to him, and in a few +minutes narrowly escaped death more than once. First a shell burst in +the street close to him, and two bystanders were struck down by the +fragments; then another shell struck a house opposite, and covered the +neighbouring space with splinters large and small; next a round-shot +tore down the thoroughfare, carrying everything before it. + +It was no safer inside than out. Yet McKay was glad when they marched +him in before the generals, who were seated at the open window of the +topmost look-out, scanning the besiegers' operations with their +telescopes. + +"What is the meaning of this fire? Have you any idea?" It was Todleben +who asked the question. "Does it prelude a general attack?" + +"I cannot tell you," replied McKay. + +"Was there no talk in the enemy's lines of an expected assault?" asked +another. + +"I do not know." + +"You must know. You are on the headquarter-staff of the British army." + +"Who told you so? You have always denied my claim to be treated as an +English officer." + +"Because you are a traitor to your own country. But it is as I say. We +know as a fact that you belong to Lord Raglan's staff; how we know it +you need not ask." + +The fact was, of course, made patent by the English +commander-in-chief, in his repeated attempts to secure McKay's +release and exchange. But the prisoner had been told nothing of these +efforts, or of the peremptory refusal that had met Lord Raglan's +demands. + +"I told you it would be no use," interrupted a third. "He is as +obstinate as a mule." + +"Stay! what is that?" cried Todleben, suddenly. "Over there, in the +direction of the Green Mamelon." + +Three rockets were seen to shoot up into the evening sky. + +"It is some signal," said another. "Yes; heavy columns are beginning +to climb the slopes away there to our left." + +"And the British troops are collecting in front of the Quarries." + +At this moment the besiegers' fire, which had slackened perceptibly, +was re-opened with redoubled strength. + +"Let everyone return to his station without delay," said Todleben, +briefly. "A serious crisis is at hand. The attack points to the +Malakoff, which, as you all know, is the key of our position." + +"Hush!" said one of the other generals, pointing to McKay. + +"What matter?" replied Todleben. "He can hardly hope to pass on the +intelligence." + +But the words were not lost upon our hero, although he had but little +time then to consider their deep meaning. + +"What shall we do with the prisoner?" asked his escort. + +"Take him back to his place of confinement." + +McKay's heart was lighter that evening than it had been at any time +since his capture. He remembered now that this was the 7th of June, +the day settled for the night attack upon the Mamelon and Quarries, +and he hoped that if these succeeded, as they must, they would +probably be followed by a further assault upon the principal inner +defences of the town. + +He spent the evening and the greater part of the night in the deepest +agitation, hoping hourly, momentarily, for deliverance. + +None came, no news even; but that the struggle was being fought out +strenuously he knew from the absence of the men that occupied his +casemate, all of whom were doubtless engaged. But towards daylight one +or two dropped in who had been wounded and forced to retire from the +batteries. From them he learnt something of what had occurred. + +The French had stormed the works on the left of the Russian front, and +had carried them once, twice, three times. The Russians had returned +again and again to recover their lost redoubts, but had been obliged +to surrender them in the end. + +In the same way the English had attacked the ambuscades--what we call +the Quarries--and between night and dawn the Russians had made four +separate attempts to recover what had been lost at the first +onslaught. + +"And now it is over?" + +"No one can say. We have suffered fearfully; we are almost broken +down. If the enemy presses we shall have to give up the town." + +"Pray God they may come on!" cried McKay, counting the moments till +relief came. + +But bitter disappointment was again his portion. The day grew on, and, +instead of renewed firing, perfect quiet supervened. There was a +truce, he was told, on both sides, to bury the dead. + +Now followed several dreary days, when hope had sunk again to its +lowest ebb, and all his worst apprehensions revived. It was like a +living death; he was a close prisoner, and never a word reached him +that any of his friends were concerning themselves with his miserable +fate. + +Again there came a glimpse of hope. Surely there was good cause: in +the renewal of the bombardment, which, after an interval of a few +days, revived with yet fiercer intention and unwavering persistence. + +Surely this meant another--possibly the final--and supreme attack? + +The firing continued without intermission for four days. It was +increased and intensified by an attack of the allied fleet upon the +seaward batteries. This new bombardment made itself evident from the +direction of the sounds, and the merciless execution of the fiery +rockets that fell raging into the town. + +At length, in the dead of night, McKay was aroused from fitful sleep +by the beating of drums and trumpets sounding the assembly. + +It was a general alarm. Troops were heard hurrying to their stations +from all directions, and in the midst of it all was heard--for a +moment there had been a lull in the cannonade--a sharp, long-sustained +sound of musketry fire. + +Evidently an attack, but on what points it was made, and how it fared, +McKay at first could have no idea. But, as he listened anxiously to +the sounds of conflict, it was clear that the tide of battle was +raging nearer to him now than on any previous occasion. + +He waited anxiously, his heart beating faster and faster, as each +minute the firing grew nearer and nearer. He was in ignorance of the +exact nature of the attack until, as on the last occasion, the Russian +soldiers came back by twos and threes and re-entered the casemate. + +"What is going on in the front?" McKay asked. + +"The enemy are advancing up the ravine. We have been driven out of the +cemetery, and I doubt whether we shall hold our ground." + +"They are coming on in thousands!" cried a new arrival. "This place is +not safe. Let us fall back to the Karabel barrack." + +"You had better come too," said one soldier thoughtfully to McKay, as +he gathered up the long skirts of his grey great-coat to allow of more +expeditious retreat. + +"All right," said McKay, "I will follow." + +And taking advantage of the confusion, during which the sentries on +the casemate had withdrawn, he left his prison-chamber and got out +into the main road. + +The fusilade was now close at hand; bullets whistled continually +around and pinged with a dull thud as they flattened against the rocky +ground. + +The assailants were making good progress. McKay, as he crouched below +a wall on the side of the road, could hear the glad shouts of his +comrades as, with short determined rushes, they charged forward from +point to point. + +His situation was one of imminent peril truly, for he was between two +fires. But what did he care? Only a few minutes more, if he could but +lie close, and he would be once more surrounded by his own men. + +While he waited the dawn broke, and he could watch for himself the +progress the assailants made. They were now climbing along the slopes +of the ravine on both sides of the harbour, occupying house after +house, and maintaining a hot fire on the retreating foe. It was +exciting, maddening; in his eagerness McKay was tempted to emerge from +his shelter and wave encouragement to his comrades. + +Unhappily for him, the gesture was misunderstood. The crack of +half-a-dozen rifles responded promptly, and a couple of them took +fatal effect. Poor Stanislas fell, badly wounded, with one bullet in +his arm and another in his leg. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN. + + +McKay lay where he fell, and it was perhaps well for him that he was +prostrate. The attacking parties soon desisted from firing, and +charged forward at racing-pace, driving all who stood before them at +the point of the bayonet. They swept over and past McKay, trampling +him under foot in their hot haste to demolish the foe. + +But the wave of the advance left McKay behind it, and well within the +shelter of his own people. + +Although badly wounded, he was not disabled, and he took advantage of +the first pause in the fight to appeal for help to some men of the +38th who occupied the wall behind which he fell. + +"You speak English gallows well for a Rooskie," said one of the men, +brusquely, but not without sympathy. "What do you want? Water? Are you +badly hit?" + +"A bullet in my leg and a flesh-wound in my arm." + +"Hold hard! Sawbones will be up soon. Meanwhile, let's try and staunch +the blood. We'll tear up your shirt for a bandage." + +And with rough but real kindness he tore open McKay's old _greggo_ so +as to get at his underlinen. This action betrayed the red cloth +waistcoat he still wore. + +"Why, that's an English staff waistcoat. Quick! How did you come by +it, you murdering rogue?" + +"I am a staff officer." + +"You! What do you call yourself?" + +"Mr. McKay, of the Royal Picts: deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general +at headquarters." + +"Save us alive! This bangs Bannagher. Wait, honey--wait till I call an +officer." + +Presently, when the wounds had been rudely but effectively bound up, a +captain of the 38th came up, and to him McKay made himself known. + +"This is no time or place to ask how you came here. Taken prisoner, I +suppose?" + +"Who are you? What force?" + +"Eyre's Brigade: of the Third Division. Told off to attack the Creek +Battery. We have carried the cemetery, but what else we've done I have +not the least idea." + +"Haven't you? Well, I'll tell you. You've taken Sebastopol." + +"Not quite, I'm afraid." + +"You're well inside the fortress anyway. I can tell you that for +certain. Just above is the place in which I was kept a prisoner." + +"Is that a fact? By Jove! what tremendous luck!" + +"But can you hold your ground?" + +"Eyre will. He'll hold on by his eyelids till reinforcements come up, +never fear. And the French have promised us support." + +"Is yours the only attack?" + +"Dear no! The French have gone in at the Malakoff, and our people at +the Redan." + +"How has it gone--have you any idea?" asked McKay, anxiously. + +"No one knows, except the general, perhaps. Here he comes; and he +don't look over pleased." + +General Eyre, a tall, fierce-looking soldier, strode up with a long +step, talking excitedly to a staff-officer, whom McKay recognised as +one of Lord Raglan's aides-de-camps. + +"Hold our ground!" the general was saying. "Of course we will, to the +last. But if the French could only come up in force we might still +retrieve the day. You see we are well inside, though I cannot say +exactly where." + +At this moment the officer who had been speaking to McKay touched his +hat and said to the general-- + +"There is some one here who can tell you, I think, sir." + +"Who is that? A prisoner?" + +"One of our own people. McKay, of the headquarter staff. A man whom +the Russians took, and whom we have just recovered." + +"McKay!" cried the aide-de-camp, joyfully. "Where is he?" + +Our hero was speedily surrounded by a group of sympathetic friends, to +whom he gave a short account of himself. Then he briefly explained to +the general the position in which they were. + +"It is as I thought," said the general. "We have pierced the Russian +works above the man-of-war harbour, and, if reinforced promptly, can +take the whole of the line in reverse. Will you let Lord Raglan know? +and the attack might then be renewed on this side." + +"I fear there is no hope of that," said the aide-de-camp, gloomily. + +"Have we failed, then?" asked McKay. + +His friend shook his head. + +"Completely. I cannot tell why exactly, but I know that part of the +French started prematurely. There was some mistake about the +signal-rocket. This gave the alarm to the whole garrison." + +"Yes; I heard them turning out in the middle of the night." + +"And the consequence was they were ready for us at all points. Our +attacking parties at the Redan were met with a tremendous fire, and +literally mowed down. Our losses have been frightful. All the +generals--Sir John Campbell, Lacy, yea, and Shadford--are killed, and +ever so many more. It's quite heartbreaking." + +"And will nothing more be tried to-day?" + +"I fear not, although Lord Raglan is quite ready; but the French are +very dispirited. Goodness knows how it will end! The only slice of +luck is Eyre's getting in here; but I doubt if he can remain." + +"Why not?" + +"The enemy's fire is too galling, and it appears to be on the +increase." + +"I fancy they are bringing the ships' broadsides to bear." + +"Yes, and we are bound to suffer severely. But you, McKay; I see you +are wounded. We must try and get you to the rear." + +"Never mind me," said McKay, pluckily; "I will take my chance and wait +my turn." + +The chance did not come for many hours. Eyre's brigade continued to be +terribly harassed; they were not strong enough to advance, yet they +stoutly refused to retire. The enemy's fire continued to deal havoc +amongst them; many officers and men were struck down; General Eyre +himself was wounded severely in the head. + +All this time they waited anxiously for support, but none appeared. At +length, as night fell, Colonel Adams, who had succeeded Eyre in the +command, reluctantly decided to fall back. + +The retreat was carried out slowly and in perfect order, without +molestation from the enemy. Now at last the wounded were removed on +stretchers as carefully and tenderly as was possible. + +McKay's hurts had been seen to early in the day. He was placed as far +as possible out of fire, and his strength maintained by such +stimulants as were available. + +While the excitement lasted his pluck and endurance held out. But +there was a gradual falling-off of fire as the night advanced, and the +pains of his wounds increased. He suffered terribly from the motion as +he was borne back to camp, and when at last they reached the shelter +of a hospital-tent in the Third Division camp he was in a very bad +way: fits of wild delirium alternated with death-like insensibility. + +But he was once more amongst his friends. Next morning Lord Raglan, +notwithstanding his heavy cares and preoccupation, sent over to +inquire after him. + +Many of the headquarter-staff came too, and Colonel Blythe was +constantly at his bedside. + +On the second day the bullet was removed from the leg, and from that +moment the symptoms became more favourable. Fever abated, and the +wounds looked as though they would heal "at the first intention." + +"He will do well enough now," said the doctor in charge of the case; +"but he will want careful nursing--better, I fear, than he can get in +camp." + +"Why not send him on board a hospital ship? Could he bear the journey +to Balaclava?" + +"Undoubtedly. I was going to suggest it." + +"There is the _Burlington Castle_, his own uncle's ship: she is +now fitted up as a hospital, with nurses and every appliance. He will +soon get well on board her." + +There were other and still more potent aids to convalescence on board +the _Burlington Castle_. A band of devoted female nurses tended the +sick; and amongst them, demurely clad in a black dress, her now sad +white face half hidden under an immense coif, was one who answered to +the name of Miss Hidalgo. + +It was Mariquita, placed there by the kindness of the military +authorities, anxious to make all the return possible by helping in the +good work. The relationship of the captain to Stanislas was remembered +by Colonel Blythe, and the _Burlington Castle_ seemed the fittest +place to receive the poor girl. + +Good Captain Faulks had been taken into the secret. + +"Poor child!" he had said. "I will watch over her for dear Stanny's +sake. I was fond of that lad, and she shall be like a daughter to me." + +At first she seemed quite dazed and stupefied by her grief. She gave +up her lover as utterly lost, and would not listen to the consolation +and encouragement offered. + +"He'll turn up, my dear," said Captain Faulks; "you'll see. He was +not saved from drowning to die by a Russian rope. Wait; he'll weather +the storm." + +Mariquita would shake her head hopelessly and go about her appointed +task with an unflagging but despairing diligence that was touching to +see. + +Uncle Barto, as he always wished her to call him, was the first to +tell her the good news. + +"He's found, my dear. What did I tell you? They couldn't keep him; I +knew that." + +"The Holy Virgin be praised!" cried Mariquita. "But is he +well--uninjured? When shall we see him?" + +"Soon, my dear, soon. He will be brought--I mean he will come on board +in a few days now." + +A simple pressure of the hand, a half-whispered exclamation of joy in +her own fluent Spanish, was the only greeting that Mariquita gave her +wounded lover when they lifted him on to the deck of the +hospital-ship. But the vivid blush that mantled in her cheek, and the +glad light that came into her splendid eyes, showed how much she had +suffered, and how great was her emotion at this moment of trial. + +As for Stanislas, he was nearly speechless with surprise. + +"You here, Mariquita! What strange adventure is this? Tell me at +once--" + +"No, no," interposed the doctor; "it is a long story. You are tired +now, and will have plenty of time to hear from Miss Hidalgo all about +herself." + +It was the telling of this story as she sat by the side of his couch, +hand locked in hand, and he learnt by degrees the full measure of her +self-sacrificing devotion, that did McKay so much good. It braced and +strengthened him, giving him a new and stronger desire to live and +enjoy the unspeakable blessing of this true woman's love. + +They would have been altogether happy, these long days of +convalescence, but for his enforced absence from his duties, and the +distressing news that came from the front. + +Lord Raglan had never recovered from the disappointment of the 18th of +June. The failure of the attack, and the loss of many personal +friends, preyed upon his spirits, and he suddenly became seriously +ill. He never rallied, sank rapidly, and died in a couple of days, to +the great grief of the whole army. + +No one felt it more than McKay, to whom the sad news was broken by his +old chief. + +"It is very painful to think," said Sir Richard Airey, "that he passed +away at the moment of failure; that he was not spared to see the +fortress fall--for it must fall." + +"Of course it must, sir," said McKay. "This last attack ought to have +succeeded. The Russians were in sore straits." + +"It was the French who spoiled everything by their premature advance. +I knew we could do nothing until they had taken the Malakoff. That is +the key of the position." + +"You are right, sir. I myself heard Todleben say those very words." + +"Did you? That is important intelligence. It must not be forgotten +when the time comes to organise a fresh attack." + +"I shall be well then, I hope, sir, and able to go in with the first +column. I think I could show the way." + +"At any rate you can say more than most of us, for you have been +actually inside the place." + +"And shall be again, if you will only wait another month!" cried +McKay. + +But the doctors laughed at him when he talked like this. + +"You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for three months +or more, and then you must make up your mind to crutches for another +six." + +"I shall not see the next attack, then?" + +"No; but you will see England before many weeks are gone. We are going +to send you home at once." + +"But I had much rather not go--" began McKay. + +"It's no use talking; everything is settled." + +And so it came to pass. The good ship _Burlington Castle_, Bartholomew +Faulks, master, having filled up its complement of invalids and +wounded men, including Captain Stanislas McKay, steamed westward about +the middle of July. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN LINCOLN'S INN. + + +Ledantec, _alias_ Hobson, had at once reported progress to Mrs. +Wilders. The day after his arrival in Paris she had heard from him. He +wrote-- + +"Have no fears. The police are on his track. They have his exact +description, and are watching at the Mairie. Directly he shows himself +he will be arrested as Rupert Gascoigne, tried, condemned. They do +these things well in France. You will never hear of him again." + +There was much to quiet and console her in these words. After the +dreadful surprise of Rupert's reappearance she had been a prey to the +keenest anxiety. The whole edifice, built up with such patient, +unscrupulous effort, had threatened to crumble away. Bitter +disappointment seemed inevitable just when her highest hopes were +nearest fulfilment. + +But now, thanks to her unscrupulous confederate, the staunch friend +who had stood by her so often before, the last and worst difficulty +was removed, and everything would be well. + +Another day passed without further intelligence from Paris, but +Ledantec's silence aroused no fresh apprehensions. Doubtless there was +nothing special to tell; matters were progressing favourably, of +course; until her husband was actually arrested, she could expect to +hear nothing more. + +On the evening of the third day, however--that, in fact, following +Gascoigne's visit to the Mairie--she had a short letter from Lincoln's +Inn. Lord Essendine's lawyers wrote her, begging she would call on +them early next day, as they had an important communication to make to +her. His lordship himself would be present, and their noble client had +suggested, if that would suit her, an appointment for twelve noon. + +"At last! They mean to do the right thing at last," she said, +exultingly. "The proud old man is humbled; he fears the extinction of +his ancient line, and must make overtures now to me. My boy is the +heir; they cannot resist his rights; his claim is undeniable. He shall +be amply provided for; I shall insist on the most liberal terms." + +Fully satisfied of the cause of her summons to Lincoln's Inn, Mrs. +Wilders presented herself punctually at twelve. Although she still +schooled her face to sorrowful commiseration with the old peer whom +fate had so sorely stricken, the elation she felt was manifest in her +proud, arrogant carriage, and the triumphant glitter of her bold brown +eyes. + +Lord Essendine was with the senior partner, Mr. Burt, when she was +shown in; and although he arose stiffly, but courteously, from his +seat, did not take her outstretched hand, while his greeting was cold +and formal in the extreme. + +There was a long pause, and, as neither of the gentlemen spoke, Mrs. +Wilders began. + +"You sent for me, my lord--" + +His lordship waved his hand toward Mr. Burt, as though she must +address herself to the old lawyer. + +"Mrs. Wilders," said Mr. Burt, gravely and with great +deliberation--"Mrs. Wilders, if that indeed be your correct +appellation--" + +And the doubt thus implied, reviving her worst fears, sent a cold +shock to her heart. + +But she was outwardly brave. + +"How dare you!" she cried with indignant defiance in her tone. "Have +you only brought me here to insult me? I appeal to your lordship. Is +this the treatment I am to expect? I, your cousin's widow--" + +"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyer. "To be a widow it is first +necessary to have been a wife." + +"Do you presume to say I was not General Wilders's wife?" she asked +hotly. + +"Not his lawful wife. Stay, madam," he said, seeing Mrs. Wilders half +rise from her chair. "You must hear me out. We have evidence, the +clearest seemingly; disprove it if you can." + +"What evidence?" + +"The certificate of your other marriage. It is here." + +"How came you by it?" she inquired eagerly. + +"No matter, it is all in proper form; you could not contest it, +understand." + +"Well? I never pretended when I gave my hand to Colonel Wilders that I +had not been married before. He was well aware of it." + +"But not that your first husband was alive at the time." + +"It is false! He was dead--drowned; he drowned himself in the Seine." + +"Your first husband is alive still, and you know it. You have seen him +yourself within these last few days. He is ready to come forward at +any time. It is he in fact who has furnished us with these proofs." + +"I shall protest, dispute, contest this to the uttermost. It is a +base, discreditable plot against a weak, helpless, defenceless woman," +said Mrs. Wilders with effrontery; but despair was in her heart. + +How Ledantec has deceived her! + +"Is that all you have to say to me?" she went on at length after +another pause. "You, Lord Essendine--my husband's relative and friend, +one of the richest and proudest men in this purse-proud land--how +chivalrous, how brave of you, to bring me here to load me with vile +aspersions, to rob me of my character; my child, my little friendless +orphan boy, of the inheritance which is his by right of birth!" + +"Do not let us get into recriminations, madam," said Lord Essendine, +speaking for the first time. "It is to speak of your boy, mainly, that +I wished for this interview." + +"Poor child!" + +"Whatever blot may stain his birth, I cannot forget that he has +Wilders's blood in his veins. He is Cousin Bill's son still." + +"You admit so much? Many thanks," she sneered. "And since these heavy +blows have struck us, blow after blow, he is the sole survivor of the +house. I am willing--nay, anxious--to recognise him." + +"Indeed! How truly generous of you!" There was no telling whether the +speech was genuine, or another sneer. + +"He cannot bear the title, but I can make him my heir. He may succeed +to the position in due course--I hardly care how soon." + +"Are you mocking me, Lord Essendine?" + +"I am in sober earnest. I will do what I say, but only on one +condition." + +"And that is?" + +"That you give up the child, absolutely, and forever." + +"What! part with the only thing left me to love and cherish--" + +"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyers "before your emotion +overpowers you. We happen to be able to judge of the extent of your +affection for your only son." + +"How so?" + +"We know you care so little for him that for month, you never see the +child. It was left in England when you went to the Crimea--" + +"With my husband. Besides, I could not have made a nursery of Lord +Lydstone's yacht." + +"And since you settled in London you have sent it to a nurse in the +country." + +"It was better for the child." + +"No doubt you know best. However, this discussion is unnecessary. Will +you comply with his lordship's conditions, and part with the child?" + +"Never!" + +"Remember, the offer will not be renewed." + +"And what, pray, would become of me? You deprive me of +everything--present joy in my offspring, his affection in coming +years. I shall be alone, friendless--a beggar, perhaps." + +"As to that, you must trust to his lordship's generosity." + +"Little as you deserve it," added Lord Essendine, meaningfully. + +She turned on him at once. + +"Of what do you accuse me?" + +"Of much that I forbear to repeat now. But I will spare you--I will +leave you to your own conscience and--" + +"What else, pray?" + +"The law. It may seize you yet, madam, and it has a tight grip." + +"I shall not remain here to be so grossly insulted. If you have +anything more to say to me, my lord, you must write." + +"And you refuse to give up the child?" + +"You had better put your proposals on paper, Lord Essendine. I may +consider them in my child's interests, although the separation would +be almost too bitter to bear. I may add, however, that I will consent +to nothing that does not include some settlement on myself--" + +"As to that," said the lawyer, "his lordship declines to bind +himself--is it not so, my lord?" + +"Quite; I will make no promises. But she will not find me ungenerous +if she will accept my terms." + +And so the interview ended. There was no further reference made to the +unpleasant facts now brought to light by the letter and documents sent +over by Hyde. Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still call her, knew that she +could not dispute them; that any protest in the shape of law +proceedings would only make more public her own shame and +discomfiture. But if she was beaten she would not confess it yet; and +at least she was resolved that the enemy who had so ruthlessly +betrayed her should not enjoy his triumph. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +HUSBAND AND WIFE. + + +Mrs. Wilders's first and only idea after she left Lincoln's Inn was to +get to Paris as soon as she could. She no longer counted on much +assistance from Ledantec, nor, indeed, had she much belief in him now; +but she yet hoped he might help her to obtain revenge. Whatever it +cost her, Rupert Gascoigne must pay the penalty of thwarting her when +she seemed on the very threshold of success. + +Having desired her maid to pack a few things, she hastily realised all +the money she had at command and started by the night-mail for Paris. + +Paris! Like the husband she had wronged and deserted, she had not +visited the gay city for years. Not since she had thrown in her lot +with an unspeakable villain, joining and abetting him in a vile plot +against the man to whom she was bound by the strongest ties in +life--by loyalty, affection, honour, truth. + +"I hate going back there," she told herself, as the Calais express +whirled her through Abbeville, Amiens, Creil. "Hate it, dread it, more +than I can say." + +And this repugnance might be interpreted into some glimmering remnant +of good feeling were it not due to vague fears of impending evil +rather than to shame and remorse. + +She was landed at an early hour at the hotel she resolved to +patronise: a quiet, old-fashioned house in the best part of the Rue de +Rivoli, overlooking the gardens of the Tuileries. + +She was shown to a room, and proceeded at once to correct the ravages +of the night journey. A handsome woman still, but vain, like all her +sex, and anxious to look her best on every occasion. + +Hastily swallowing a cup of coffee, as soon as her toilette was +completed she issued forth and took the first cab she could find. + +"To the Porte St. Martin," she said; "lose no time." + +Arrived there, she alighted, dismissed the cab, and proceeded on foot +to the Faubourg St. Martin, to the house we have visited already, and +in which our friend Hyde was still a prisoner. + +Simply mentioning her name, she passed by the porter with the air of +one who knew her road, although it was probably the first time she had +come there. On the sixth floor she knocked as Hyde had done, and was +admitted much as he had been. + +There was no disguise about her, however, and she sent in her name as +"Mrs. Wilders, just arrived from England, and most anxious to see Mr. +Hobson." + +"You, Cyprienne!" said the man we know, who answered to the names of +both Hobson and Ledantec. "In Paris! This was quite unnecessary. I am +arranging everything. You had my letter?" + +"Pshaw! Hippolyte, you can't befool me." + +"Why this tone? I tell you I have done everything." + +"You may think so, but in the meantime Rupert has stolen a march on +me. He has got the papers--" + +"Impossible!" + +"It is so. Got them, and placed them, with a full statement, in Lord +Essendine's hands." + +"How do you know this?" + +"From Lord Essendine's own lips?" + +"How can he have done this? He--a prisoner." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"He is fast by the leg. Come and see him. He is in the next room." + +"Here? In our power?" + +"Yes: let us go and see him at once." + +There was a fierce gleam in her eyes, as though she wished to stab +him, wherever she found him, to the heart. + +Hyde was where we had left him, still bound hand and foot to the +bedstead. He had spent a miserable night, he was stiff and sore from +his strange position, and they had given him little or no food. But +his manner was defiant, and his air exulting, as he saw Ledantec and +Cyprienne approach. + +"Have you come to release me? It's about time. You will gain nothing +by keeping me here." + +"Dog! I hate you!" cried Mrs. Wilders, as she struck him a cruel, +cowardly blow on the face. + +"A pleasant greeting from the woman I made my wife." + +"Would that fate had never thrown us together; that I had never heard +your name!" + +"No one can wish it more sincerely than myself," replied Gascoigne. +"It was you who wrecked and ruined my life." + +"And what have you done to me, Rupert Gascoigne? Could you not leave +me in peace? Why follow me to persecute me, to rob me and my son--" + +"Of the proceeds of your infamy?" interrupted Gascoigne, or Hyde, as I +prefer to call him; "I will tell you. Because you dared to plot +against a man I esteem. Whatever has happened to Stanislas McKay, he +owes it, I feel confident, to you. I may never see him again--" + +"You never will, and for a double reason. Do not hope, Rupert +Gascoigne, to leave this place again." + +And she looked capable of taking his life then and there. + +"Come, come! Cyprienne; you are going too far. Mr. Gascoigne has not +behaved very well, perhaps, but it is not for us to call him to +account. We will leave him to the myrmidons of the law. He is wanted, +we know, by the police." + +"Am I?" said Hyde, mockingly; "so are others, as you will find. At +this moment the house is surrounded. The authorities have long had +their eye on Hippolyte Ledantec, _alias_ Hobson, the Russian spy." + +The confederates looked at each other uneasily, and Ledantec said-- + +"It can hardly be so. But it will be well to ascertain and take +precautions. Come! there is a way out of this house known only to me." + +And, so saying, he went towards the door, followed by Mrs. Wilders. +Suddenly he paused, surprised by a loud knocking outside. + +They heard the old woman's voice angrily asking who was there; they +heard the reply, spoken loudly and authoritatively. + +"The police! Open, in the name of the law. Open! or we shall break the +door down." + +Next minute the apartment was invaded by a _posse_ of police, all of +whom were drawn to where Hyde was by his loud cries of "Here! Here!" + +"Let no one move," said the chief of the police, briefly. "What is the +meaning of this? Who are you?" This was to Ledantec. + +"My name is Mr. Hobson, a British subject, and member of the press. I +shall require you to explain this intrusion." + +"His real name is Ledantec!" cried Hyde, interposing. "Ex-gambler, and +now spy in the pay of the Russians. This woman is his accomplice." + +"And who may you be?" said the police-officer, turning to Hyde. + +"I know this gentleman," put in the _attache_ whom Hyde had seen at +the Embassy. "He is a British officer--Mr. Hyde." + +"I know better!" cried Ledantec, with a scornful laugh. "I denounce +him as Rupert Gascoigne, the perpetrator of the murder in Tinplate +Street, fifteen years ago. The case cannot yet be forgotten at the +Prefecture." + +"Is it possible?" said the chief of the police, looking curiously at +Hyde. "Surely I should recognise you. I was one of those from whom you +escaped by jumping into the Seine." + +"I do not deny that I am the man," replied Hyde, calmly. "But I am +innocent, and only ask a fair trial." + +"We must arrest you, anyway. Keep what you have to say for the judge. +Come! bring them along; it's altogether a fine morning's work." + +And within an hour Hyde found himself in his old quarters--a separate +cell of the depot of the Prefecture. The other prisoners were lodged +there also, but apart from him and each other. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SCALES REMOVED. + + +The capture made by the police in the Faubourg St. Martin was kept +secret. Under the Second Empire nothing was published except with the +permission of the authorities, and they had their reasons for not +talking too openly of Hyde's arrest. He was a British subject, a +military officer moreover, and these were claims to the consideration +of French justice that would not have been so readily recognised +fifteen years before. + +It was, of course, inevitable that the affair of Tinplate Street +should be re-opened. But a new complexion was given to it by the +recent arrests. Hyde had been interrogated at once by the magistrate +who had examined him before; the same man, but so different; no +longer insolently positive and threatening unjustly, but bland, +considerate, obliging. The fact was he had had a hint from his +superiors to treat the Englishman gently. + +"The truth must come out now," Hyde had said, when asked if he +remembered the circumstances of his former arrest. "You have the real +culprit in custody." + +"This Ledantec, I suppose?" asked the judge. + +"It was he who struck the blow; I saw him with my own eyes, as I told +you years ago. Then he escaped by the window into a back-street; I +followed him, but he was too quick for me. A cab waited for him, +picked him up, and he was driven away." + +While Hyde was speaking the judge had turned over the pages of a +voluminous document in front of him,--a detailed report of the +previous interrogation. + +"Your story does not vary. You have either an excellent memory, +or--" and the stern magistrate smiled quite archly--"or you are +really telling me the truth." + +"The truth! I can swear to it." + +"What is more, your story is in the main corroborated. Shortly after +your escape we laid hands on the very cabman who had helped Ledantec +away. He described the scene as you have, and through him we got upon +the trace of his fare--Ledantec, as you call him." + +"But you never arrested him?" + +"Until now he carefully kept away from Paris." + +"But you have him now on a double charge." + +"Him and his accomplice. Justice will be satisfied, never fear." + +"How long will you keep me here?" + +"I regret that for the present it will be impossible to release you. +We are compelled first to verify the facts before us. But in a few +days at the latest I hope your trouble will be at an end. You have +powerful friends, Monsieur." + +"The British Embassy, I suppose?" said Hyde, complacently. + +"Yes; and his Imperial Majesty has deigned to go personally into your +case." + +"Then I can wait events calmly and without fear." + +Presently, when Hyde had been removed, Ledantec was introduced, and +was received with the brutal harshness which was the judge's habitual +manner towards prisoners. + +"Your name, profession, address?" he asked abruptly. + +"Silas Hobson, an English journalist, residing in Duke Street, St. +James's, London." + +"It is false! You have no right to the name of Hobson. You are not an +Englishman. You may reside in London, but it is only temporarily." + +"Who am I then?" asked Ledantec with a sneer. + +"In Paris, at your last visit, you passed as Hippolyte Ledantec, but +your real name is Serge Michaelovitch Vasilenikoff. You are a Russian +by birth, by profession a gambler, a blackleg, a cheat." + +Ledantec, as I shall still call him, merely shrugged his shoulders in +sarcastic helplessness at this abuse. + +"You are worse. You are a spy in the service of the enemies of the +State; an unconvicted murderer--" + +He bent his eyes upon the prisoner with a piercing gaze, to watch the +effect of this accusation. + +Ledantec never blenched, and the judge presently continued-- + +"You are the real author of the crime in Tinplate Street." + +"M. Rupert Gascoigne is your informant, I presume," said Ledantec +sneering; "it is easy to rebut a charge by throwing it on another. But +you are too clever, M. le Juge, to be imposed upon." + +"You at least cannot hoodwink me. We have the fullest evidence, let me +tell you, of the crime--all the crimes--laid to your charge. Your +accomplice has confessed." + +This was said to try the prisoner, and it succeeded, for he started +slightly at the word "crimes." + +"Accomplice! Of whom do you speak?" + +"There is a woman in custody who has been associated with you for +years. It was she who instigated you to the robbery and murder of the +Baron d'Enot. She joined you when you fled from the gambling-den in +Tinplate Street, and shared your flight from Paris. She was with you +in St. Petersburg till you separated after a violent quarrel--" + +"The blame was hers," interrupted Ledantec. + +"Possibly, but you were equally to blame. In any case she left you to +shift for herself. She entered a great English family by a false +marriage, and, when next you met her, conspired with her to bring the +wealth of that family within her grasp. You again became her guilty +partner, and plotted to take the life of the heir to a noble English +title and great estates." + +He was referring now to McKay, but Ledantec, misled by a guilty +conscience, was thinking of Lord Lydstone, and his mysteriously sudden +death. + +"That was her doing!" he cried remorsefully. "In removing Lord +Lydstone--" + +The judge caught quickly at the new name. + +"You removed, or, more plainly, you murdered Lord Lydstone at the +instigation of your accomplice--is that so?" + +Ledantec would not confess to this, but the judge felt certain that he +had come upon the track of another dreadful crime. + +"There is enough against you," he went on slowly, "to convict you a +dozen times over, enough to send you to the guillotine. Your only hope +will be to make a clean breast of everything. By helping us to convict +your accomplice you may save your forfeited life." + +"But I shall be sent to the galleys; to Toulon or Brest. Life as a +French galley-slave is worse than death." + +"You will not think so when the alternative is put before you," said +the judge, dryly; "and my advice to you is to make a full +confession." + +Ledantec shook his head, but it was with far less assurance than he +had shown at the beginning of his examination. It was clear that he +saw himself fast in the toils; that the law held him tight in its +clutch; that unqualified submission was the only course to pursue. + +He had spoken fully and unreservedly, confessing freely to every +guilty deed in his long career of wickedness, possessing the judge +with every detail of his own and his accomplice's crimes, when that +accomplice was brought up for interrogation in her turn. + +She was ghastly pale: the rough ordeal of imprisonment had robbed her +dress and demeanour of all its coquetry; but she faced the magistrate +with self-possessed, insolent effrontery, and met his stern look with +cold, unflinching eyes. + +"Why am I brought here?" she began, fiercely. "How dare you detain me? +You and your masters shall answer for this ill-usage. I am an English +lady, belonging to one of the proudest families in the country. The +British Embassy, the British nation, will call you to the strictest +account." + +"Ta! ta! ta!" said the judge, with a gesture of the hand essentially +French; "I think you are slightly mistaken; you are no more English than I +am. I know you, and all about you, Cyprienne Vergette--otherwise Gascoigne, +otherwise Wilders. + +"Shall I tell you a little of your early history? How you eloped from +Gibraltar, where your father was Vice-Consul; how you came to Paris +with your lover; your marriage, your life, your desertion of your +husband, your association with Ledantec, your second marriage, your +plots against Milord Essendine and his family, your murder--" + +"It is a lie!" she interrupted him, hastily. "I never committed +murder." + +"You compassed Lord Lydstone's death, although you did not strike the +blow. You would have caused the death of another English officer, but, +happily, he has escaped your murderous intrigues." + +Only that morning the French journals had copied from the English an +account of McKay's almost providential escape on the 18th of June. + +"But your last attempt has failed utterly. Mr.--" he referred to +his papers for the name--"McKay is safe within the British lines. The +agent you employed to inveigle him into danger is dead, but with his +last breath he confessed that he had had his orders from you. Now, +Cyprienne Vergette, what have you to say?" + +"I deny everything. I protest against your jurisdiction." + +"The Assize Court will hear, but scarcely admit, your plea. That +tribunal and its president will deal you as you deserve." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +L'ENVOI. + + +The _Burlington Castle_ made a short halt at Constantinople, and +another, somewhat longer, at Malta; a third was to be made at +Gibraltar, where two of our most important characters proposed to +leave the ship. + +The delay at Malta was to allow Miss Hidalgo to make her appearance in +the Supreme Court as principal witness against the baker, Giuseppe +Pisani, commonly called Valetta Joe. + +The British military authorities in the Crimea had hesitated to deal +summarily with the spy's offence. He might have been hanged out of +hand under the Mutiny Act; but such swift retribution, however richly +merited, was obnoxious to our general's sense of justice. + +He preferred to leave the criminal to the ordinary tribunals of his +native island. It could adjudge and carry out any punishment short of +death, if so inclined. In the Crimea the capital sentence only would +have been possible. + +The trial was short and summary. Mariquita, dressed still in the +sober, quaker-like garb of a hospital-nurse, said what she had to say +in a few simple words. Her sweet face and artless manner were the +admiration of the whole court, and there was a little round of +applause as it came out that she had ventured so far and braved so +much out of love for the gallant soldier who was leaning on his +crutches close by her side. + +Valetta Joe was found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment for four +years, and with his conviction the reader's interest in him will +probably cease. It disposed of the last of McKay's active enemies; +Benito, as we have seen, had died in Balaclava hospital, and Cyprienne +Vergette and her accomplice were in the grip of the French law. + +The enemies had disappeared; friends only remained. When he landed at +Gibraltar numbers came to greet him, from the Governor himself to the +Tio Pedro and the old crone his wife. Letters had already assured them +of Mariquita's safety, and they wept crocodile tears of joy as they +clasped her once more in their arms. + +They were her only relatives, and as such McKay was compelled to +surrender his love to them for a time. But only for the very briefest +time. He measured their affections at its true value, and had no +compunction in asserting his claim over theirs to protect and cherish +her. + +He easily persuaded them and Mariquita, but with some tender +insistence, to hurry on the marriage, and it took place within a few +short weeks of their return to the Rock. Why should he wait? He was +his own master; the only relative whose consent and approval he +coveted--his mother--had already promised gladly to accept the girl of +his choice. + +His great relatives, the Essendines, might question the propriety of +the match, anxious that he should look higher, and find his future +bride amongst the aristocracy to which he now rightly belonged. + +That was a point on which he meant to please himself, and did. + +When, after a short honeymoon at Granada, the young married couple +returned to Gibraltar and travelled leisurely homewards, Lord +Essendine was one of the first to welcome him on arrival, and to +congratulate him on the beauty of his bride. + +By-and-by, when the days of mourning were ended, Lady Essendine came +out of her strict retirement to present Mrs. McKay at Court; and the +handsome Spanish girl with the strange romantic history was one of the +greatest successes of the next London season. Ere long the future +succession of the Essendine title was assured beyond doubt. McKay was +blessed with a numerous family--many sons came to satisfy the head of +the house that the title of Essendine and the family name were in no +danger of extinction. But Lord Essendine lived for many years after +the termination of the Crimean war, and McKay was a general officer +and a Knight of the Bath before he became the fifteenth Earl of +Essendine. + +Having thus disposed of the hero whose early career was so chequered +and eventful, I must add a word as to the fate of the other actors in +this veracious narrative. + +First as to Hyde, who continued to be known by that name to his death, +preferring it greatly to the other, with its painful memories. He +remained a prisoner in the depot of the Prefecture only a few days. +The confession made by Ledantec and the evidence of other witnesses so +amply attested the innocence of the M. Gascoigne accused of the +Tinplate Street murder that his release followed as a matter of +course. Hyde waited in Paris to hear the issue of the trial of the +real offenders, and, painful as it was to be present at the sentence +of the woman who had once borne his name, he yet listened without +flinching to the whole story. After all, there was a certain relief in +knowing that he was well rid of her. It was little likely that the +Central prison to which she was consigned in perpetual "reclusion" +would ever surrender its prey. + +He heard, too, with lively satisfaction, the sentence of his old foe, +Ledantec, to hard labour at the galleys for twenty years. + +With these trials, and the penalties that followed them, he turned +down for ever the dark page of his life, and presently returned to +England, where he spent the remainder of his leave with his old friend +and comrade, McKay. + +After that had expired he returned to the Crimea, and was present at +the closing scenes of the war. He continued to serve with the Royal +Picts for many years more--the regiment had become his home--and, as +he was in due course promoted to the post of paymaster, his position +and income were materially changed. + +He lived to a green old age, retiring from the service full of rank +and honour. Colonel Hyde was long a notable figure at his club in Pall +Mall, which gained a new and very popular _chef_ when Anatole Belhomme +wrote him that he had been summarily dismissed from the French police. +Hyde spent a great portion of every year at Essendine Castle, after +his friend had succeeded to the estates, and there was no more +honoured guest than he at the coming of age of Rupert, Viscount +Lydstone, his godson. + +The boy whom Mrs. Wilders had hesitated to surrender to old Lord +Essendine, from greed rather than maternal instinct, was not neglected +by the old peer. After the mother had passed out of sight, the son was +brought up decently, given a good education, and eventually started +in life. He adopted the military profession, and was not denied the +support and encouragement of Stanislas McKay. + +Our hero was able to help his uncle, too, the much-aggrieved +functionary of the Military Munition Department, and secured for him +the decoration he had so long coveted in vain. + +Uncle Barto, the worthy captain of the _Burlington Castle_, made a +snug fortune by his commercial ventures during the war, and paid +regular visits to his nephew, Stanny. Mrs. McKay, or Countess of +Essendine as she became, could never forget what she owed for his +generous hospitality on board the _Burlington_. + + +THE END. + + + * * * * * + + +BLUE BLOOD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"The idea is simply preposterous. I decline to entertain it. I cannot +listen to it--not for one moment. Never!" + +The speaker was Mrs. Purling, "heiress of the Purlings"; imperious, +emphatic, self-opinionated, as women become who have had their own way +all their lives through. + +"But, mother," went on Harold, her only son--like herself, large and +broadly built; but, unlike her, quiet and rather submissive in manner, +as one who had been habitually kept under--"I am really in earnest. I +am absolutely sick of doing nothing." + +"Because you won't do what you might. There is plenty for you to do. +Has not the Duchess asked you to Scotland? You refuse--and such a +splendid invitation! I have offered you a yacht. I say you may share a +river in Norway with dear Lord Faro. I implore you to drive a coach, +to keep racehorses, to take your place in the best society, as the +representative of the Purling--" + +"Pills?" put in Harold, with a queer smile. + +His mother's face grew black instantly. + +"Harold, do not dare to speak in that way. My father's memory should +be respected by my only son." + +Old Purling had made all his money by a certain chemical compound +which had been adopted by the world at large as a panacea for every +ill. But the heiress of the Purlings hated any reference to the +Primeval Pills, although she owed to them her wealth. + +"I want a profession," Harold said, returning to his point. "I want +regular employment." + +"Well, I say go into the Guards." + +"I am too old. Besides, peace-soldiering, and in London, would never +suit me, I know." + +"Read law; it is a gentlemanly occupation." + +"But most uninteresting. Now medicine--" + +"Do not let me hear the word; the mere idea is intolerable. My son, +the heir of the Purlings must not condescend so low." + +"Considering my own father was a doctor," cried Harold, rather hotly. + +"Not a mere doctor. A man of science, of world-wide repute, is not like +a general practitioner, with a red lamp and an apothecary's shop, +where he makes up--" + +"Pills?" said Harold, again. He was throwing down the gauntlet indeed. +Mrs. Purling had never known him like this before. + +"Leave the room, Harold. I decline to speak to you further, or again, +unless you appear in a more obedient and decorous frame of mind." + +That Mrs. Purling was what she was, the chances of her life and her +father were principally to blame. He had begun life as an errand-boy, +and ended it as a millionnaire; but long before he ended he had +forgotten the beginning. He had a sort of notion that he belonged to +one of the old families in the county wherein he had bought wide +estates, and he himself styled his only daughter "the heiress of the +Purlings," as if there had been Purlings back for generations, and he +was the last, not the first, of his race. It was he who had +indoctrinated her with ideas of her own importance; and these same +views had taken so strong a hold of him that he found it quite +impossible to mate his daughter according to his mind. He was +ambitious, as was natural to a _nouveau riche_; wide awake, or he +would not have made so much money. Not one of the crowds of suitors +who came forward was exactly to his taste. He would have preferred a +man of title, but the peers who were not penniless were too proud; and +the best baronet was an aged bankrupt, who had been twice through the +courts, and enjoyed an indifferent name. It was strange that Isabel +did not cut the Gordian knot, and choose for herself; but she was a +dutiful daughter, and little less cautious than her father. In the +midst of it all he was called away on some particular business of his +own--to another world--and Isabel was left alone, past thirty, and +unmarried still. + +The _role_ of single blessedness may be charming to a man of means, +but it is often extremely irksome to an heiress in her own right. Miss +Purling was like a pigeon that escapes from the inclosure at a +match--an aim for every gun around. Great ladies took her up, as a +kindness to their younger sons; briefless barristers, with visions of +the Woolsack, besought her to help them to the first step--a seat in +the House; clergymen with great views prayed her to join them in some +stupendous charitable work, that must win for them the lawn-sleeves; +more than one impecunious soldier pleaded with her for their tailors, +whose bills without her help they were quite unable to pay. She seemed +a common prey, fair game for every hand. This developed in her an +undue amount of suspicion and a certain hardness of heart. She began +to doubt whether there was one disinterested man in the whole world. + +But before many years had passed she realised that unless she married +there could be no prospect of peace. Already she had quarrelled with a +dozen companions of her own sex; she wished now to try one of the +other. But men seemed tired of proposing to her. She had the character +of being as hard and cold as iron; and no one cared to run his head +against a wall. If she wanted a husband now the proposal must come +from her. Miss Purling in her heart rather liked the notion; it gave +her a chance of posing like a queen in search of a consort, and years +of independence had made her very queenlike and despotic indeed. So +much so, that the only man to suit her must be a mere cipher without a +will of his own; and he was difficult to find. Men of the kind are not +plentiful unless they plainly perceive substantial advantage from +assuming the part. But few guessed what kind of man would exactly +suit Isabel Purling, so there were few pretenders. + +Among those who flocked to her _soirees_--she was fond of entertaining +in spite of her disabilities as a single woman--was a meek little +professor, who lodged in Camden Town, and who came afoot in roomy +goloshes, which now and again, in a fit of abstraction, he carried +upstairs and laid upon the tea-table or at his hostess's feet, as +though the carpet was damp and he feared she might run the risk of +catarrh. He was reputed to be extremely erudite, a ripe scholar, and +of some fame in scientific research. But of all his discoveries--and +he had made many under the microscope and in space--the most +surprising was the discovery that a lady who owned a deer-park and +many thousands a-year desired him to make her his wife. But he was an +obliging little man, always ready to do a kind thing for anybody; and +he obliged Miss Purling in the way she wished--after all, at some cost +to himself. The marriage meant little less than self-effacement for +him; he was to take his wife's name instead of giving her his; he was +to forego his favourite pursuits, and from an independent man of +science pass into a mere appendage to the Purling property--part and +parcel of his wife's goods and chattels as much as the park-palings, +or her last-purchased dinner-service of rare old "blue." + +It was odd that Miss Purling's choice should have fallen where it did; +for her tendencies were decidedly upward, and she would have dearly +loved to be styled "my lady," and to have moved freely in the society +of the "blue-blooded of the land." It was her distrustfulness which +had stood in the way. She feared that in an aristocratic alliance she +could not have made her own terms. And with the results of this +marriage with Dr. Purling--as he was henceforth styled--she had every +reason to be pleased. He proved a most exemplary husband--the chief of +her subjects, nothing more; a loyal, unpretending vassal, who did not +ask to share the purple, but was content to sit upon the steps of the +throne. He continued a shy, reserved, unobtrusive little man to the +end of the chapter; and the chapter was closed without unnecessary +delay as soon as the birth of a son secured the succession of the +Purling estates. Dr. Purling felt there was nothing more required of +him, so he quietly died. + +His widow raised a tremendous tablet to his memory, eulogising his +scientific attainments and domestic worth; but, although she appeared +inconsolable, she was secretly pleased to have the uncontrolled +education of her infant son. An elderly lady with a baby-boy is like a +girl with a doll--just as the little mother dresses and undresses its +counterfeit presentment of a child in wax and rags, crooning over its +tiny cradle, talking to it in baby-language, pretending to watch with +anxious solicitude its every mood, so Mrs. Purling found in Harold a +plaything of which she never tired. She coddled and cosseted him to +her heart's content. If he had cried for the moon some effort would +have been made to obtain for him the loan of that pale planet, or the +best substitute for it that could be got for cash. If his finger +ached, or he had a pain in his big toe, he was physicked with half the +Pharmacopoeia; he underwent divers systems of regimen, was kept out +of draughts, cautioned against chills, cased in red flannel; he might, +to crown all, have been laid by in cotton-wool. His mother's over-much +care ought to have killed him; but he had inherited from her a fine +physique, and the lad was large-limbed, healthy, and well grown. + +And this vigilant supervision was prolonged far beyond the time when +youths are emancipated usually from their mother's control. Long after +he had left college, and was launched out upon the world, she kept +her hands upon the reins, ruling him with a sharp bit, and driving him +the road she decided it was best for him to go. Mrs. Purling had grown +more and more imperious with advancing years, impatient of +contradiction, self-satisfied, very positive that everything she did +was right. She could not brook opposition to her wishes. Those who +dared to thwart her must do it at their peril; no nature but one +entirely subservient would be likely to continue permanently in accord +with hers; and it was easy to predict troubles in the future between +mother and son unless he yielded always a complete and docile +submission to her will. + +For a long time Harold wore his chains without a murmur. Obedient +deference had been a habit with him from childhood, and, however +irksome and galling the slavery, it was not until he had made +practical acquaintance with the actual value of the life she wished +him to lead that there arose in him a disposition to rebel. Mrs. +Purling had all along been chafed with the notion that she did not +enjoy that social distinction to which as a wealthy woman she +considered herself entitled. In her own estimation she ranked very +high; but the best families of the neighbourhood did not accept her +valuation. Some went so far as to call her a vulgar old snob; and +"snobbish," as we understand the word, she certainly was. She +worshipped rank; and it was a very sore point with her that she was +not freely admitted into the best society of the county in which she +lived. She looked to Harold to redress her wrongs. Where she failed, a +handsome young fellow, of engaging presence and heir to a fine estate, +must assuredly succeed. He might, if he chose, be acceptable anywhere. +There was no limit to her dreams. He might mate with a duke's +daughter; and after such an alliance--who would presume to question +the social rights of the Purlings? + +It was therefore her chief and greatest desire to make a man of +fashion of her son. Her purse was long--he might dip into it as deep +as he pleased. Let him but take his proper position, on an equality +with the noblest and best, and all charges would be gladly defrayed by +her. She wanted him to be a dandy, _repandu_ in society, a member of +the Coaching Club, well known at Prince's, at Hurlingham, at Lord's; +sought after by dowagers; intimate with royalties; she would not have +seriously resented a reputation for a little wickedness, provided he +erred in the right direction--with people of the blue blood, that is +to say--and the scandal did not go too far. + +Unhappily, Harold's tastes and inclinations lay all in the opposite +direction. In external appearance he favoured his mother, in +disposition he was his father's son. Like him reserved--he would have +been shy but for his training at school and college, which had rubbed +the sensitive skin off his self-consciousness; like him studious too, +thoughtful, quiet, with scientific tastes and proclivities. His +friends in familiar talk called him "Old Steady"; he had never got +into debt or serious trouble. Even in the midst of the whirling maze +of London life he continued steadfastly sober and sedate. + +Here at once was to be found the germ of discord between mother and +son, the first gap or chink in their friendly relations, which might +widen some day into a yawning breach. But yet Mrs. Purling could find +no fault with her son. She might resent the staid sober-mindedness of +his conduct; but she was perforce compelled to confess that he was a +dear good son, affectionate, devoted, considerate; and there was much +solid comfort in the thought that the good name of the Purlings, as +well as their substantial wealth, could be safely intrusted to his +hands. This she readily allowed; and, had he continued obedient and +tractable until he was grey-haired, Mrs. Purling might have gone down +into her grave without a shadow of excuse for quarreling with her +son. + +It was when he was past five-and-twenty that there arose between them +misunderstanding, at first only a small cloud no bigger than a man's +hand. Harold suddenly declared that he was sick of gallivanting about +the fashionable world; sick of idleness--sick of the silly purposeless +existence he led; and thereupon announced his intention of studying +medicine seriously and as a profession. Mrs. Purling was at first +aghast, then argumentative, finally indignant. But Harold remained +inflexible, and she grew more and more wrathful. It led at length to +something like a rupture between them. She received the news of his +success in the schools with grim contempt, condescending only to ask +once whether he wished her to buy him a practice, or whether he meant +to put up a red lamp at the family-mansion in Berkeley Square. + +Her persistent implacability gave Harold much pain, but he did not +despair of bringing her round in the end; only, to avoid further +dissensions, he wisely resolved to keep out of her way: and as soon as +he had gained his diploma he started for Germany, intending to +prosecute his studies abroad. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was not until he had been absent more than a year that Mrs. Purling +appeared to relent. She began to yearn after her son; she missed him +and was disposed to be reconciled, provided he would but meet her +half-way. At first she sent olive-branches in the shape of munificent +letters of credit over and above his liberal allowance; then came more +distinct overtures in lengthy epistles, which grew daily warmer in +tone and plainly showed that her resentment was passing rapidly away. +These letters of hers were her chief pleasure in life; she prided +herself on her ability to wield the pen. When, instead of a few curt +sentences in brief acknowledgment of his letters, his mother resumed +her old custom of filling several sheets of post with advice, gossip, +odds and ends of news, mixed with stray scraps of wisdom culled from +Martin Tupper, Harold began to hope that the worst was over and that +he would soon be forgiven in set form. + +And he was right. Pardon was soon extended to him, not quite +unconditional, but weighted merely with terms which--Mrs. Purling +thought--no sensible man could hesitate to accept. + +She only asked him to settle in life. He must marry some day--why not +soon? Not to anybody, of course,--he must be on his guard against +foreign intriguing sirens, who would entangle him if they could,--but +to some lady of rank and fashion, fitted by birth and breeding to be +the mother of generations of Purlings yet to be. This was the +condition she annexed to forgiveness of the past; this the text upon +which she preached in her letters week after week. The doctrine of +judicious marriage appeared in all she wrote with the unfailing +regularity of the red thread that runs through all the strands of +Admiralty rope. + +Harold smiled at the reiteration of these sentiments; smiled, but he +had misgivings. Herein might be another source of disagreement between +his mother and himself. Would their respective opinions agree as to +the style of girl most likely to suit him? Then he began to consider +what style of girl his mother would choose; and while he was thus +musing there came a missive which plainly showed Mrs. Purling's hand. + +"I have been at Compton Revel for a week--" + +"I wonder," thought Harold, when he had read thus far, "why they asked +her there? My dear old mother must have been in the seventh heaven of +delight. She always longed to be on more intimate terms with Lady +Calverly." + +"I have been at Compton Revel for a week," his mother said, "and met +there a Miss Fanshawe, one of Lord Fanshawe's daughters, who seemed to +me quite the nicest girl I have ever known. I took to her directly; +and without conceit I may be permitted to say that I think she took +quite as readily to me. We became immense friends. She was at such +pains to be agreeable to an uninteresting old woman like myself that I +feel convinced she has a good heart. I confess I was charmed with her. +It is not only that she is strikingly handsome, but her whole bearing +and her style are so distinguished that she might be descended from a +long line of kings--as I make no doubt she is. + +"Of course she has moved only in the best circles; her mother being +dead, she has been introduced by the Countess of Gayfeather, and goes +with her ladyship everywhere. Just imagine, she has been to +State-balls at the Palace; the Prince has danced with her, and she has +been spoken to by the Princess! You know how I enjoy hearing all the +news of the great world, and Miss Fanshawe has been so obliging as to +amuse me for hours with descriptions of all she has seen and +heard--not a little, I assure you; she is not one of those flighty +girls who have no ears but for flattery, no eyes but for young men; +she is observant, critical perhaps, but strikingly just in her +strictures on what goes on around. I find she has thought out several +of the complex problems of our modern high-pressure life; and really +she gave me very valuable ideas upon my favourite theory of +'lady-helps,' to which I am devoting now so much of my spare time. + +"Miss Fanshawe has promised to pay me a long visit at Purlington some +day soon--a real act of kindness which I fully appreciate. It will +indeed be a treat to a lonely old woman to find so entertaining a +guest and companion. + +"When do you think of returning? Gollop tells me there are plenty of +pheasants this year. Surely, you have had enough of those dry German +_savants_ and that dull university-town?" + +The hook was rather coarsely baited; it would hardly have deceived +the most guileless and unsuspecting. Harold Purling at a glance could +read between the lines; he could trace effect to cause, and readily +understood why his mother was so anxious for his return. + +"One of Lady Gayfeather's girls, is she? I never thought much of that +lot. However--but why on earth should Lady Calverly take my dear +mother up in this way, at the eleventh hour?" + +He would have wondered yet more if he had seen how cordially Mrs. +Purling had been welcomed to Compton Revel. + +"It is so good of you to come to us," Lady Calverly said, with +effusion. "We are so glad to have you here, and have looked forward to +it for so long." + +For about seventeen years, in fact, during which time Lord and Lady +Calverly had completely ignored the existence of their near neighbour, +Mrs. Purling. Compton Revel might have been a paradise, and the +heiress an exiled peri waiting at the gates. + +The party assembled was after Mrs. Purling's own heart. They were all +great people, at least in name; and the heiress of the Purlings was +heard to murmur that she did like to be in such good society--she felt +so perfectly at home. And they all made much of her. One night she +was handed in to dinner by a Duke, another by an ex-Cabinet Minister. +The latter made her feel proud, for the first time in her life, of her +son, and the line he had adopted so sorely against her will. + +"Mr. Purling's paper on toxicology," he said, "is quite the cleverest +thing that has appeared on the subject. My friend, Sir William--," +he mentioned a physician of world-wide repute, "considers that Mr. +Purling will go far." + +Lady Calverly followed suit by declaring that Mr. Purling was a +pattern young man, everyone gave him so good a character. They _did_ +hope to see him at Compton Revel directly he got back to England. + +Then Miss Fanshawe metaphorically prostrated herself before Mrs. +Purling, and by judicious phrases and ready sympathy completely won +her good-will. + +"You certainly made an impression upon her, Phillipa," said Lady +Calverly afterwards. + +"She is a vain and rather silly old woman," Miss Fanshawe replied. +Language that might have opened Mrs. Purling's eyes. + +"But I am very glad you became such good friends. Purlington is a very +desirable place." + +Here, then, was a faint clue to the mystery of Mrs. Purling's tardy +reception at Compton Revel. Intrigue--not necessarily base, but +covered by the harmless phrase, "It would be so very nice"--was at +work to bring about a match between Miss Fanshawe and Harold Purling. +She was one of a large family of girls and her father was an +impoverished peer. Besides, her career so far had not been an unmixed +success. Lady Gayfeather's young ladies had the reputation of being +the "quickest" in the town. + +"I have met the son," went on Lady Calverly. + +"Yes?" Phillipa's tone was one of absolute indifference. + +"He is a gentleman." + +"I have always heard of him as a solemn prig--'Old Steady' he was +named at college. I confess I have no special leaning to these very +proper and decorous youths." + +"Do not say that you are harping still on that old affair. I assure +you Gilly Jillingham is unworthy of you. You are not thinking still of +each other, I sincerely hope?" + +"I may be of him," said Phillipa bitterly. "He is not likely to think +of any one--but himself." + +"I shall never forgive myself for surrendering you to Lady Gayfeather. +Nothing but misery seems to hang about her and her house. This last +affair--" + +There had been a terrible scandal, not many months old, and hardly +forgotten yet, which had roused Lady Calverly to remove her cousin, +Phillipa Fanshawe, from the evil influences of Lady Gayfeather's set. +Whether or not the rescue had come in time it would be difficult to +say. Miss Fanshawe could hardly escape scot-free from her +associations, nor was it to her advantage that rumour had bracketed +her name with that of a successful but not popular man of fashion. +There had been a talk of marriage, but he had next to nothing; no more +had she. + +"We must have an end to all that," said Lady Calverly decisively. "You +must promise me to forget Mr. Jillingham for good and all." + +"Of course," replied Phillipa; but the pale face and that sad look in +her weary eyes belied her words. + +It seemed as if she had shot her bolt at the target of life's +happiness, and that the arrow had fallen very wide of the gold. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +When old Purling bought the ----shire estates there was an ancient +manor-house on the property, a picturesque but inconvenient residence, +which did not at all come up to his ideas of a country gentleman's +place. It was therefore incontinently pulled down, and one of the most +fashionable architects of the day, having _carte blanche_ to build, +erected a Palladian pile of wide frontage and imposing dimensions on +the most prominent site he could find. It ought to have haunted its +author like a crime; but he was spared, and the punishment fell upon +the innocent who dwelt around. There was no escape from Purlington, so +long as you were within a dozen miles of it. Wherever you went and +wherever you looked, down from points of vantage or up from quiet +dells, this great white caravanserai, with its glittering plate-glass +panes and staring stucco, forced itself upon you with the unblushing +effrontery of a brazen beauty, with painted face and bedizened in +flaunting attire. But the heiress thought it was a very splendid +place, with its pineries, conservatories, its acres of glass, and its +army of retainers in liveries of rainbow hues. Mrs. Purling was a +little afraid of her servants, albeit strong-minded in other respects; +but it was natural she should submit to a coachman who had once worn +the royal livery, or quail before a butler who had lived with a duke. + +The butler met Harold on his return, extending to him a gracious +patronising welcome, as if he were doing the honours of his own house. + +"Misterarold," he cried, making one word of the name and title, "this +is a pleasant surprise. You wus not expected, sir; not in the least." + +"My mother is at home?" + +"No, sir; out. In the kerridge. She drove Homersham way." + +"See after my things. Here are my keys." And Harold passed on to the +little morning-room which Mrs. Purling called her own. Having the +choice of half-a-dozen chambers, each as big as Exeter Hall, she +preferred to occupy habitually the smallest den in the house. To his +surprise he found the room not untenanted. A young lady was at the +book-case, and she turned seemingly in trepidation on hearing the door +open. + +"Miss Fanshawe," thought Harold, as he advanced with eyes that were +unmistakably critical. + +"I must introduce myself," he said. "I am Harold." + +"The last of the Saxon kings?" + +"No; the first of the Purling princes. I know you quite well. Has my +mother never mentioned me?" + +"I only arrived yesterday," the young lady replied, rather evading the +question. + +"My mother must be delighted. She told me she was looking forward +eagerly to your promised visit." + +"She really spoke of me?" + +"In her letters; again and again." + +"I hardly thought--" + +"That you had taken her by storm? You have; and I was surprised, for +she is not easily won." + +Not a civil speech, which this girl only resented by placing a pair of +old-fashioned double glasses across her small nose, and looking at him +with a gravity that was quite comical. + +"But now that I have met you I can readily understand." + +The same look through the glasses; sphinx-like, she seemed impervious +both to depreciation and compliment. + +"And she has left you alone all the morning? I am afraid you must have +been bored." + +"Thank you. I had my work." + +It was an exquisite piece of art needlework. Water-lilies and yellow +irises on a purple ground. She confessed it was her own design. + +"And books?" + +He took up Schlegel's _Philosophy of History_ in the original. + +"You read German?" + +"O yes." + +"And Italian? and French? and Sanscrit--without doubt?" + +"Not quite; but I have looked into Max Mueller, and know something of +Monier Williams." + +And this was one of Lady Gayfeather's girls! Was this a new process, +the last dodge in the perpetual warfare between maidens and mankind? + +Harold looked at the prodigy. + +In appearance she was quite unlike the conventional type of a London +young lady of fashion. Her fresh dimpled cheeks wore roses and a +pearly bloom that spoke of healthy hours and a tranquil life; her +dress was quiet almost to plainness; there was nothing modern in the +style of her coiffure; Lobb would not have been proud of her boots. +Her fair white hands were innocent of rings; she wore no jewelry; +there was no gold or silver about her, except for the gold-rimmed +glasses that made so curious a contrast to her young face, with its +merry eyes and frame of mutinous curls. + +"You will not be angry," said Harold earnestly, "if I tell you that +you are not in the least what I expected to find you, Miss +Fanshawe--" + +"Miss Fanshawe!" Her gay laugh was infectious. "I'm afraid--" + +But just now the butler came in to say that the carriage was coming up +the drive. Harold went out to meet his mother, without noticing that +the young lady also got up and hurriedly left the room. + +"It's just like you, you stupid boy!" said the heiress. "Why did you +give me no notice?" + +"I meant to have written from Paris. But it's all for the best. You +were quite right. She is perfectly charming." + +"Who?" + +"Miss Fanshawe. I have made her acquaintance." + +"In town?" + +"No, here; in your own morning-room." + +"What!" The ejaculation contained volumes. "Was there ever anything so +annoying! But it is all your fault for coming so unexpectedly." + +"What harm? We introduced ourselves, Miss Fanshawe--" + +"Miss Fiddlesticks! That's Dolly Driver, your father's cousin!" + +"Indeed! Then I wish I had made the acquaintance of my father's +cousins a little earlier in life. Why have I been kept in ignorance of +my relatives? Where do they live?" + +Mrs. Purling, instead of answering him, took him by the arm abruptly, +as if to ask him some searching question; then suddenly checking +herself, she said-- + +"Have you had lunch? It must be ready. Come into the dining-room." + +"Will not Miss Driver join us?" + +"She will go to the housekeeper's room, where she ought to have been +sitting, and not in my boudoir." + +"Mother!" + +"It's as well to be plain-spoken. Dolly Driver is not of our rank in +life. Her parents are miserably poor. Nevertheless,"--as if the crime +hardly deserved such liberal pardon,--"I am not indisposed to help +them. She is going to a situation." + +"Poor girl! Companion or governess? or both?" + +"Neither; she will be either housemaid or undernurse." + +Harold almost jumped off his chair. + +"A girl like that! as a domestic servant! Mother, it's a disgraceful +shame!" + +"The disgrace is in the language you permit yourself to use to me. +Your travels have made you rather boisterous and _gauche_. What +disgrace can there be in honest work? Household work is honourable, +and was once occupation for the daughters of kings. Happily the world +grows more sensible. I look to the day as not far distant when the +wide-spread employment of lady-helps will solve that terrible +problem--the redundancy of girls." + +"My cousin will not continue redundant, I feel sure." + +"She is not your cousin." + +"Whether or no, she should be spared the degradation you propose. She +is a girl of culture, highly educated. You cannot condemn her to the +kitchen." + +"The lady-helps have their own apartment; but I decline to justify +myself." + +And Mrs. Purling lapsed into silence. There was friction between them +already. + +"Where are you going?" she asked, when lunch was over. + +"To the housekeeper's room." + +"Harold, I forbid you. It's highly improper--it's absolutely +indelicate." + +"She is my cousin; besides there is a _chaperone_, Mrs. Haigh, or I'll +call in the cook." + +"Do you mean to set me at defiance?" + +"I mean to do what I consider right, even although my views may not +coincide with yours, mother." + +For the rest of the day, indeed, Harold never left his newly-found +cousin's side. The heiress fumed and fretted, and scolded, but all in +vain. There was a new kind of masterfulness about her son which for +the moment she was powerless to resist. + +"Of course she will dine with us," Harold said. And of course she did, +although Mrs. Purling looked as if she wished every mouthful would +choke her. Of course Harold called her Dolly to her face; was she not +his cousin? Quite as naturally he would have given her a cousinly kiss +when he said good-night, but something in her pure eyes and modest +face restrained him. + +Certainly she was the nicest girl he had ever met in his life. + +"Where's Doll?" he asked next morning at breakfast. "Not down?" + +"Miss Driver is half-way to London, I hope," replied Mrs. Purling, +curtly. She was not a bad general, and had taken prompt measures +already to recover from her temporary reverse. + +"I shall go after her." + +"If you do, you need not trouble to return." + +Nothing more was said, but anger filled the hearts of both mother and +son. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"I expect my dear friend, Miss Fanshawe, in a few days, Harold. I +trust you will treat her becomingly." + +"One would think I was a bear just escaped from the Zoo. Why should +you fear discourtesy from me to any lady?" + +"Because she is a friend of mine. Of late you seemed disposed to run +counter to me in every respect." + +"I have no such desire, I assure you," said Harold, gravely; and there +the matter ended. + +The preparation for Miss Fanshawe's reception could not have been more +ambitious if she had been a royal princess. With much reluctance Mrs. +Purling eschewed triumphal arches and a brass band, but she +redecorated the best bedroom, and sent two carriages to the station, +although her guest could hardly be expected to travel in both. + +"_This_ is Miss Fanshawe," said the heiress, with much emphasis--"the +Honourable Miss Fanshawe." + +"The Honourable Miss Fanshawe is only a very humble personage, not at +all deserving high-sounding titles," said the young lady for herself. +"My name is Phillipa--to my friends, and as such I count you, dear +Mrs. Purling; perhaps some day I may be allowed to say the same of +your son." + +She spoke rapidly, with the fluent ease natural to a well-bred woman. +In the subdued light of the cosy room Harold made out a tall, slight +figure, well set off by the tight-fitting ulster; she carried her head +proudly, and seemed aristocratic to her finger-tips. + +"I should have known you anywhere, Mr. Purling," she went on, without +a pause. "You are so like your dear mother. You have the same eyes." + +It was a wonder she did not use the adjective "sweet"; for her tone +clearly implied that she admired them. + +"I hear you are desperately and astoundingly clever," she continued, +like the brook flowing on for ever. "They tell me your pamphlet on +vivisection was quite masterly. How proud you must be, Mrs. Purling, +to hear such civil things said of his books!" + +"Do you take sugar?" Harold asked, as he put a cup of tea into a hand +exquisitely gloved. + +She looked up at him sharply, but failed to detect any satire behind +his words. + +Harold thought that there was too much sugar and butter about her +altogether. Even thus early he felt antipathetic; yet, when they were +seated at dinner, and had an opportunity of observing her at leisure, +he could not deny that she was handsome, in a striking, queenly sort +of way; but he thought her complexion was too pale, and, at times, +when off her guard, a worn-out, harassed look came over her face, and +a tinge of melancholy clouded her dark eyes. But it was not easy to +find her off her guard. The unceasing strife of several seasons had +taught her to keep all the world at sword-point; she was armed +_cap-a-pie_, and ready always to fight with a clever woman's keenest +weapons--her eyes and tongue. Upon Harold she used both with +consummate skill; it was clear that she wished to please him, +addressing herself principally to him, asking his opinion on +scientific questions, coached up on purpose, and listening attentively +when he replied. + +"How wise you have been to keep away from town these years! One gets +so sick of the perpetual round." + +"I should have thought it truly delightful," said Mrs. Purling, who, +of course, took the unknown for the magnificent. + +"Any honest labour would be preferable." + +"Turn lady-help; that's my mother's common advice." + +"Harold, how dare you suggest such a thing to Miss Fanshawe? Do you +know she is a peer's daughter?" + +"I thought you said housework would do for the daughters of kings; and +you have proposed it to our cousin, Dolly Dri--" + +"Were you at Ryde this year, Phillipa?" asked Mrs. Purling, promptly. + +"No--at Cowes. We were yachting. Dreary business, don't you think, Mr. +Purling?" + +"I rather like it." + +"Yes, if you have a pleasant party and an object. But mere +cruising"--Miss Fanshawe was quick at shifting her ground. + +"And you are going to Scotland?" + +"Probably; and then for a round of visits. Dear, dear, how I loathe +it all! I had far rather stay with you." + +The heiress smiled gratefully. It was, indeed, the dearest wish of her +heart that Phillipa should stay with her for good and all, and she was +at no pains to conceal the fact. To Phillipa she spoke with +diffidence, doubting whether this great personage could condescend to +favour her son. But there was no lack of frankness in the old lady's +speech. + +"If you and he would only make a match of it!" + +Miss Fanshawe squeezed Mrs. Purling's hand affectionately. + +"I like him, I confess. More's the pity. I'm sure he detests me." + +"As if it were possible!" + +"Trust a girl to find out whether she's appreciated. Mr. Purling, for +my sins, positively dislikes me; or else he has seen some one already +to whom he has given his heart." + +Mrs. Purling shook her head sadly, remembering artful Dolly Driver. + +"You do not know all your son's secrets; no mother does." + +"I do know this one, I fear." + +And then Mrs. Purling described the absurd mistake in identity. + +"You are not angry?" she went on. "For my part, I was furious. But +nothing shall come of it, I solemnly declare. Harold will hardly risk +my serious displeasure; but he shall know that, sooner than accept +this creature as my daughter, I would banish him for ever from my +sight." + +"It will not come to that, I trust," said Phillipa, earnestly, and +with every appearance of good faith. + +"Not if you will help me, as I know you will." + +Mrs. Purling was resolved now to issue positive orders for Harold to +marry Miss Fanshawe--out of hand. But next day Phillipa suddenly +announced her intention of returning to town. + +"You promised to stay at least a month." The heiress was in tears. + +"I am heartily sorry; but Caecilia--Lady Gayfeather--is ill and alone. +I must go to her at once." + +"You have a feeling heart, Phillipa. This is a sacred duty; I cannot +object. But I shall see you again?" + +"As soon as I can return, dear Mrs. Purling--if you will have me, that +is to say." + +The story of Lady Gayfeather's illness was a mere fabrication. What +summoned Phillipa to London was this note: + +"I _must_ see you. Can you be at Caecilia's on Saturday?--G." + +Phillipa sat alone in Lady Gayfeather's drawing-room, when Mr. +Jillingham was announced. + +"What does this mean?" she asked. + +"I'm broke, simply." + +"You don't look much like it." + +To say the truth, he did not; he never did. He had had his ups and +downs; but if he was down he hid away in outer darkness; if you saw +him at all, he was floating like a jaunty cork on the very top of the +wave. He was a marvel to everyone; it was a mystery how he lasted so +long. Money went away from him as rain runs off the oiled surface of a +shiny mackintosh coat. And yet he had always plenty of it; eclipses he +might know, but they were partial; collapse might threaten, but it was +always delayed. He had still the best dinners, the best cigars, the +best brougham; was _bien vu_ in the best society: had the best +boot-varnish in London, and wore the most curly-brimmed hats, the envy +of every hatter but his own. To all outward seeming there was no more +fortunate prosperous man about town; the hard shifts to which he had +been put at times were known only to himself--and to one other man, +who had caught him tripping once, and found his account in the fact. +The pressure this man excited drove Gilly Jillingham nearly to +despair. He was really on the brink of ruin at this moment, although +he stood before Phillipa as reckless and defiant as when he had first +won her girlish affections, and thrown them carelessly on one side. + +"How can I help you?" asked Phillipa, when he had repeated his news. + +"I never imagined you could; but you take such an interest in me, I +thought you might like to know." + +"And you have dragged me up to London simply to tell me this?" + +"Certainly. You always took a delight in coming when I called." + +It was evident that he had a strong hold over her. She trembled +violently. + +"Are these lies I hear?" he went on, speaking with mocking emphasis. +"Can it be possible you mean to marry that cub?" + +"Who has been telling you this?" + +"Answer my question." + +"What right have you to ask?" + +"The best. You know it. Have you not been promised to me +since--since--" + +"Well, do you wish me to redeem my promise? I am ready to marry you +now--to-day, if you please. Ruined as you are, reckless, unprincipled, +gambler--I know not what--" + +"That's as well. But I am obliged to you; I will not trespass on your +good-nature. I shall have enough to do to keep myself." + +"We might go to a colony." + +"I can fancy you in the bush!" + +"Anything would be preferable to the false, hollow life I lead. I want +rest. I could pray for it. I long to lay my head peacefully where--" + +"Wherever you please. Try Mr. Purling's shoulder. You have my full +permission." + +Phillipa's eyes flashed fire at this heartless _persiflage_. + +"There is no such luck." + +"Can he dare to be indifferent? How you must hate him!" + +"As I did you." + +"And do still? Thank you. But I wish you joy. When is it to be?" + +"I tell you there is absolutely nothing between us. Mr. Purling is, to +the best of my belief, engaged already." + +"Not with his mother's consent, surely? Why, then, has she made so +much of you?" + +"No; not with her consent; indeed, it is quite against her wish. Mrs. +Purling as much as told me that if her son married this cousin he +would be disinherited. They do not agree very well together now." + +"It's all hers--the old woman's--in her own right?" + +"So far as I know." + +Gilly Jillingham lay back in his chair and mused for a while. + +"It's not a bad game if the cards play true." + +His evil genius, had he been present, might have hinted that sometimes +the cards played for Mr. Jillingham a little too true. + +"Not a bad game. Phillipa, how do you stand with this old beldame?" + +"She pretends the most ardent affection for me." + +"There are no other relatives, no one she would take up if this son +gave unpardonable offence?" + +"Not that I know of. Besides, she calls me her dear daughter already." + +"And would adopt you, doubtless, if the cub were got out of the way. +Yes, it can be done, I believe, and you can do it, Phillipa, if you +please. Only persuade the old lady to make you the heiress of the +Purlings, and there will be an end to your troubles--and mine." + +Soon after this conversation Miss Fanshawe returned to Purlington. The +heiress smothered her with caresses. + +"I shall not let you go away again. We have missed you more than I can +say." + +"And you also, Mr. Harold? Are you glad to see me again?" + +Harold bowed courteously. + +"Of course; I have been counting the hours to Miss Fanshawe's return." + +"Fibs! I can't believe it." + +By-and-by she came to him. + +"Why cannot we be friends, Mr. Purling? It pains me to be hated as you +hate me." + +"You are really quite mistaken," Harold began. + +"I am ready to prove my friendship. I know all about Miss +Driver--there!" + +"Do you know where she is at this present moment?" Harold asked, +eagerly. + +"You really wish to know? Your mother will tell me, I daresay. How +hard hit you must be! But there is my hand on it. You shall have all +the help that I can give." + +Next day she told him. + +"Miss Driver is at Harbridge." + +"In service?" + +"No; at home. They live there. Her father is a Custom-house officer." + +That evening Harold informed his mother that important business called +him away. She remonstrated. How could he leave the house while Miss +Fanshawe was still there? What was the business? At least he might +tell his mother; or it might wait. She could not allow him to leave. + +Mere waste of words; Harold was off next morning to Harbridge, and +Phillipa reported progress to her co-conspirator. + +"It promises well," said Gilly. "I may be able to muzzle that +scoundrel after all." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +A quaint old red-sandstone town; the river-harbour crowded with small +craft, but now and again, like a Triton among the minnows, a +timber-brig or a trading-barque driven in by stress of weather. When +the tide went out--as it did seemingly with no intention of coming +back, it went so far--the long level sands were spotted with groups of +fisherfolk, who dug with pitchforks for sand-eels; while in among the +rocks an army of children gleaned great harvests of a kind of seaweed, +which served for food when times were hard. + +These rocks were the seaward barrier and break-water of the little +port, and did their duty well when, as now, they were tried by the +full force of a westerly gale. It is blowing great guns; the hardy +sheep that usually browse upon the upland slopes must starve perforce +to-day--they cannot stand upon the steep incline; the cocks and hens +of the cottagers take refuge to leeward of their homes; every gust is +laden with atoms of sand or stone, which strike like hail or small +shot upon the face. See how the waves dash in at the outlying rocks, +hurrying onward like blood-hounds in full cry, scuffling, struggling, +madly jostling one another in eagerness to be first in the fray; +joining issue with tremendous crash, only to be spent, broken, +dissipated into thin air. Overhead the sky changes almost with the +speed of the blast; sometimes the sun winks from a corner of the +leaden clouds and tinges with glorious light the foam-bladders as they +burst and scatter around their clouds of spray; in between the +headlands the sea is churned into creaming froth, as though the +housewives of the sea-gods with unwearying arms were whipping "trifle" +for some tremendous bridal-feast. + +The houses at Harbridge mostly faced the shore, but all had stone +porches, and the doors stood not in front, but at one side. The modest +cottage which Mr. Driver called his own was like the rest; but as he +enters, for all his care, a keen knife-edged gust of the pushing wind +precedes him and announces his return. Next instant the little lobby +is filled: a bevy of daughters, the good house-mother, one or two +youngsters dragging at his legs, everyone eager to welcome the +breadwinner home. They divest him of his wraps, soothing him the while +with that tender loving solicitude a man finds only at his own happy +hearth. + +He unfolds his budget of news: a lugger driven by stress of weather +upon the Castle Rock; suspicions of smuggling among the rough beyond +Langness Cove; Dr. Holden's new partner arrived last night. + +"I have asked him to come up this evening. A decent sort of chap." + +Forthwith they fired a volley of questions. Was he old or young, +married or single? had he blue eyes or brown? and how was he called? + +To all papa makes shift to reply. The name he had forgotten, also the +colour of his hair; but the fellow had eyes and two arms and two legs; +he did not squint; had a pleasant address and all the appearance of an +unmarried man. + +"How could you see that, wise father?" asked Doll. + +"He looked so sheepish when I mentioned my daughters. Doubtless he had +heard of you, Miss Doll, and of your dangerous wiles." + +She pinched his ear. They were excellent friends, were father and +eldest daughter. Mr. Driver, a scholar and a man of letters, who had +been thankful to exchange an uncertain footing upon the lower rungs of +the ladder of literature for a small post under Government, had for +years devoted his talents to the education of the children. In Dolly, +as his most apt pupil, he took a peculiar pride. + +"Come in, doctor!" cried Mr. Driver that night. "We are all dying, but +only to make your acquaintance." + +The new visitor was checked at the very threshold by Dolly's cry-- + +"Mr. Purling!" + +And Harold stood confessed to his cousins without a chance of further +disguise. + +"Cousin Harold, you mean," he said, as he offered Dolly his hand. + +She tried hard to hide her blushes; and then and there Mrs. Driver, +after the manner of mothers, built up a great castle in the air, which +her husband shook instantly to its foundations by asking +unceremoniously and not without a shade of angry suspicion in his +tone-- + +"Why did you not claim relationship this morning?" + +He disliked the notion of a man stealing into his house under false +colours. + +"I waited for you to speak. You heard my name." + +"I did not catch it clearly. Besides, I had never heard of you. None +of us have. Your mother did not choose to recognise the relationship." + +"She called you a tide-waiter," said his wife indignantly. + +"At least I'm not a white-tied waiter," cried Mr. Driver, with a +laugh, in which all joined. Then in low voice Dolly said-- + +"I met Mr. Purling at Purlington." + +At which her father turned upon her with newly-raised suspicion. Why +had she not mentioned the fact before? But something in Mrs. Driver's +face deterred him. A woman in these matters sees how the land lies, +while the cleverest man is still unable to distinguish it from the +clouds upon the horizon-line. + +"We are pleased to know you, Harold," said Mrs. Driver, a gentle, +soft-voiced motherly person. + +"You have really come to practise here?" went on the father, still +rather on his guard. + +"I wanted sea-air. The change will do me good," replied Harold, rather +evasively. "I like the place, too." + +Not a doubt of it. Harbridge was after his own heart, and so were some +people who lived in it. He found it so much to his taste that he +declared within a week or two that he thought of remaining there +altogether. He would go into partnership with the local doctor; +perhaps he had another partnership also in his eye. + +"Can't you see what's going on under your nose, father?" asked Mrs. +Driver. + +"What do I care? I shall not interfere." + +"Mrs. Purling will never give her consent. Poor Doll!" + +"_That_ for Mrs. Purling and her consent!" said Mr. Driver, snapping +his fingers. "Doll is ever so much too good for them--well, not for +him; he is an honest, straightforward fellow: but as for that selfish, +silly, purse-proud old woman, she may thank Heaven if she gains a +daughter like Doll." + +That this was not Mrs. Purling's view of the question was plainly +evident from a letter which awoke Harold rather rudely from his rosy +dreams. + +"So at length I have found you out, Harold. I never dreamt you could +be so deceitful and double-faced. To talk of clinical lectures in +town, and all the time at Harbridge, philandering with that forward, +intriguing girl! Only with the greatest difficulty have I succeeded in +learning the truth. Phillipa--who, it seems, has known your secret all +along, and to whom, I find, you have constantly written--could not +continue indifferent to my distress of mind. Although she has shielded +you so far with a magnanimity that is truly heroic, she has interposed +at length only to save my life. + +"I desire you will come to me at once. Do not disobey me, Harold. I am +very seriously displeased, and will only consent to forgive the past +when I find you ready to bend your stubborn heart to obey my will." + +Harold started at once for home. He hoped rather against hope that he +might talk his mother over; but her aspect was not encouraging when he +met her face to face. + +No tragedy-queen could have assumed more scorn. Mrs. Purling, having +thrown herself into several attitudes, fell at length into a chair. + +"I never thought it," she said; "not from my own and only child. The +serpent's tooth hath not such fangs, such power to sting, as the base +ingratitude of one undutiful boy. But this fills the cup. I have done +with you--for ever, unless you give me your sacred word of honour now, +at this minute, never to speak to Dolly Driver again." + +"Such a promise would be quite impossible under any circumstances, but +I distinctly refuse to give it--upon compulsion." + +"Then you have fair warning. Not one penny of my money shall you ever +possess. I will never see you again." + +"I sincerely trust the last is only an empty threat, my dearest +mother." + +She made a gesture as though she were not to be beguiled by soft +words. + +"As for the money, it matters little. Thank God, I have my +profession." + +"At which you will starve." + +"By which I shall earn my bread as my father did. Besides, I can fall +back upon the reputation of the Family Pills." + +"I see you wish to goad me beyond endurance, Harold. Go!" + +"For good and all?" + +"Yes; except on the one alternative. Will you give up this idiotic +passion? You refuse. It is on your own head, then. Go--go till I send +for you, which will be never!" + +Harold went without another word--to Harbridge, overcame Dolly's +scruples, secured the practice, and within a month was married and +settled. + +Mrs. Purling, in Phillipa's presence, made a great parade of burning +her will. + +"He has brought it all on himself, unnatural boy! But you, darling +Phillipa, will never treat me thus. _Noblesse oblige._ The bright blue +blood that fills your veins would curdle at a _mesalliance_, I know." + +Mrs. Purling was quite calm and self-possessed, while Miss Fanshawe, +strange to say, seemed agitated enough for both. Her hands trembled, +she looked away; only with positive repugnance she submitted to her +new mother's affectionate embrace. A woman who is capable of the most +cold-blooded calculating intrigue may yet have an access of remorse. +Phillipa's heart was heavy now at the moment of her triumph. It cost +her more than a passing pang to remember that she had robbed Harold +Purling of his birthright, and had turned to her own base purpose the +foolish cravings of the silly mother's heart. + +But she had put aside self-upbraiding when she met her lover in town. + +"Faith, you are a trump, Phillipa; but it's not much too soon. When +will you take your reward?" + +"Meaning Mr. Jillingham? Is the reward worth taking, I wonder?" For a +moment she held him at bay. "Suppose I were to refuse you now at the +eleventh hour? It is for you to sue. I am not what I was. Mrs. Purling +calls me the heiress of the Purlings, and we may not consider Mr. +Gilbert Jillingham a very eligible _parti_." + +"You dare not refuse me, Phillipa," said Gilly very seriously. "I +should expose your schemes, and we should go to the wall together. No, +there is no escape for you now; our interests are identical." + +"How am I to introduce you upon the scene?" + +"Quite naturally; I shall go and stay at Compton Revel. They will have +me, for your sake, if not for my own. I shall begin _de novo_--at the +very beginning: be smitten, pay you court, win over the heiress, and +propose." + +So it fell out, and they also were married before the end of the +year. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Mean as had been their conduct towards Mrs. Purling and her son, +Phillipa and her husband were not to be classed with common +adventurers of the ordinary type. Born in a lower station, Gilly +Jillingham might have taken honours as a "prig"; in his own with less +luck he might have been an Ishmaelite generally shunned. Phillipa also +might have degenerated into a mere soured cackling hanger-on; but they +were not pariahs by caste, but Brahmins, and entitled to all due +honour so long as they floated on top of the wave. Perhaps if near +drowning no finger would have been outstretched to save; but there +were plenty to pat them on the back as they disported themselves on +the sound dry land. Fair-weather friends and needy relatives rallied +round their prosperity, of course; but they were also accepted as +successful social facts by the whole of that great world which judges +for the most part by appearances, being too idle or too much engrossed +by folly to apply more accurate or searching tests. In good society +those who cared to talk twice of the matter blamed Harold; he was +absent; besides, he had gone to the wall, therefore he must be in the +wrong. On the other hand, the Jillinghams deserved the triumph that is +never denied success. To Gilly prosperous were forgiven the sins of +Gilly in social and moral rags. If scandal like an evil gas had been +let loose to crystallise upon Phillipa's good name, the black stains +could not adhere long to so charming a person, who made the Purling +mansion in Berkeley Square one of the best-frequented and most +fashionable in town. + +There were many reasons why the Jillinghams should find their account +in perpetual junketings. Social excitement was as the breath in +Gilly's nostrils; notorious for profuse expenditure even when he was +penniless, he was now absolutely reckless with money that was +plentiful and moreover not his own. Nor was the constant whirl of +gaieties without its charm for Phillipa; it deadened conscience, and +consoled in some measure for the neglect and indifference she soon +encountered at her husband's hands. But the most potent reason was +that it fooled Mrs. Purling to the top of her bent. Self-satisfaction +beamed upon her ample face as she found herself at length in constant +intercourse and on a social equality--as she thought--with the +potentates and powers and great ones of the earth. Gilly Jillingham in +the days of his apogee had been the spoiled favourite of more than one +titled dame; his success must have been great, to measure it by the +envy and hatred he evoked among his fellowmen--even when in the cold +shade there were duchesses who fought for him still; and now, when +once more in full blossom, all his fair friends were ready to pet him +as of old. The form in which their kindness pleased him best--because +it was most to his advantage--was in making much of Mrs. Purling. +Great people have the knack of putting those whom they patronise on +the very best terms with themselves; and Mrs. Purling was so convinced +of her success as a leader of fashion that she would have asked for a +peerage in her own right, taking for arms three pills proper upon a +silver field, if she could have been certain that these honours would +not descend to her recreant son. + +Whether or not, as time passed, she was absolutely happy, she did not +pause to inquire. The devotion of her newly-adopted children was so +unstinting, and they kept her so continually busy, that she had not +time for self-reproach. It was a disappointment to her that the +Jillinghams had no prospect of a family, and her chagrin would have +been increased had she known that already a boy and girl had been born +to the rightful heirs at Harbridge. But such news was carefully kept +from her; she was rigorously cut off from all communication with her +son. There was no safety otherwise against mischance; the strange +processes of the old creature's mind were inscrutable; she might in +one spasm of an awakened conscience undo all. For the Jillinghams were +still absolutely dependent upon her; she could turn them out of house +and home whenever she pleased. A small settlement was all the real +property Phillipa had secured. Although with right royal generosity +Mrs. Purling gave her favourites a liberal allowance, and promised +them everything when she was gone, yet was she like a crustacean in +the tenacity of her grip upon her own. This close-fistedness was +exceedingly distasteful to Mr. Jillingham. He had an appetite for gold +not easily appeased, and four or five thousand a year was to him but a +mouthful to be swallowed at one gulp. + +Openly of course he continued on his best behaviour, but behind the +scenes he permitted himself to grumble loudly at the old lady's +meanness and miserly ways. + +"I cannot understand you, Gilbert. I cannot see what you do with all +the money you get," said Phillipa reproachfully one day when they were +alone, and Gilly was enlarging upon his favourite theme. "You live at +free quarters, you have no expenses and ought to have no debts." + +"Have you no debts, pray?" + +"None that you are ignorant of." + +"Look here, Phillipa; listen to me. I spend what I please, how I +please. I shall give no account of it to you, nor to any one else in +the world." + +"It is not necessary. I had rather not be told. I do not care to +know," said Phillipa, womanlike, forgetting that she had begun by +wishing to be informed. She had her own suspicions, but forbore to +question further, lest she might be brought face to face with the +outrages she feared he put upon her. + +"She will take to counting the potatoes next. It's most contemptible. +A mean old brute--" + +"I shall not listen to you, Gilbert. You owe her everything." + +"Do I? I wonder what my tailor would say to that or Reuben Isaac +Melchisedec? I've more than one creditor; they are a prolific and, I +am sorry to say, a long-lived race." + +"I hope Mrs. Purling may live to be a hundred years at least--" + +"I don't. I'd rather she was choked by one of those pills you tell me +she takes every morning and night." + +There was something in his tone which made Phillipa look at him hard. +Was it possible that he contemplated any terrible wickedness? The mere +apprehension made her blood run cold. + +"O Gilly, swear to me that you will not harbour evil thoughts, that +you will put aside the devil who is prompting and luring you to some +awful crime!" + +"Psha, Phillipa, you ought to have gone into the Church. Moderate your +transports--here comes one of the footmen." + +"A person to see you, sir," said the servant. "He 'aven't got any +card, but his business is very particular." + +"I can't see him; send him away. If he won't go call the police." + +"Says his name, sir, is Shubenacady." + +"Take him to the library; I'll come." + +Jillingham's face was rather pale, and his lips were set firm when he +met his visitor. + +"What the mischief do you want?" + +"Five thou--ten--what you please. I know of a splendid investment." + +"In soap?" + +He was the dirtiest creature that ever was seen. He wore a full suit +of black, but the coat and trousers were white with age and +dust-stains; an open waistcoat, exposing an embroidered shirt which +could not have been washed for months; his hat was napless, and had a +limp brim; no gloves, and the grimiest of hands. But he was decorated, +and wore a ribbon, probably of St. Lucifer. + +"In soap, or shavings, or shoddy; what does it matter to you? When can +I have the money?" + +"Never; not another sixpence." + +"Then I shall publish all I know." + +"No one will believe you." + +"I have proofs." + +"Which are forged. I tell you I'm too strong for you: you will find +yourself in the wrong box. I am sick of this; and I mean to put an end +to your extortion." + +"You dare me. You know the consequences." + +"The first consequence will be that I shall give you in charge. Be +off!" + +"You shall have a week to think better of it." + +Gilly rang the bell. + +"Shall I send for a policeman, or will you go?" + +He went, muttering imprecations intermixed with threats; but Gilly +Jillingham, quite proud of his courage, seemed for the moment callous +to both. He little dreamt how soon the latter would be put into +effect. + +Within a few days of this interview the greatest event of Mrs. +Purling's whole social career was due; she was to entertain royalty +beneath her own roof. This crowning of the edifice of her ambition +filled her with solemn awe; the preparations for the coming ball were +stupendous, her own magnificent costume seemed made up of diamonds and +bullion and five-pound notes. + +Long before the hour of reception she might have been seen pacing to +and fro with stately splendour, contemplating the dais erected for +royalty at one end of the room, and thinking with a glow of +satisfaction that the representative of the Purlings had at last come +to her own. At this supreme moment she was grateful to dear Phillipa +and to Gilbert little less dear. + +Then guests began to pour in. Where was Phillipa? Very late; she might +have dressed earlier. A servant was sent to call her, and Phillipa, +hurrying down, met Gilly on the upper floor coming out of Mrs. +Purling's bedroom. + +"What have you been doing there?" she asked. + +"Mrs. Purling wanted a fan," said Gilly readily. + +She might want one fan, but hardly two; and had Phillipa been less +flurried she might have noticed that Mrs. Purling had one already in +her hand. But then their Royal Highnesses arrived; the heiress made +her curtsey for the first time in her life, was graciously received, +and the hour of her apotheosis had actually come. Presently the crowd +became so dense that every inch of space was covered; people +overflowed on to the landings, and sat four or five deep upon the +stairs. Dancing was simply impossible; however, hundreds of couples +went through the form. Phillipa, as in duty bound, remained in the +thick of the _melee_, but Gilly had very early disappeared. He +preferred the card-room; his waltzing days were over, he said. He was +playing; it was not very good taste, but there were some men who +preferred a quiet rubber to looking at princes or the antics of boys +and girls, and he wished to oblige his friends. + +"Can you give me a moment, Le Grice?" said Lord Camberwell, coming +into the card-room. "I have had a most extraordinary letter. It +accuses Gilly Jillingham--" + +"God bless my soul," cried old Colonel Le Grice, "a letter of the same +sort has been sent to me!" + +"Have you had any suspicion that he played unfairly?" + +"Not the slightest; I know he always holds the most surprising hands, +that he plays for very high stakes, that he nearly always wins--" + +"Is he winning now?" + +Of course. Mr. Jillingham's luck never deserted him. He was trying now +perhaps to make at one coup sufficient to silence for a further space +his enemy's tongue; the bets upon the odd trick alone amounted to a +thousand or more. But he was too late. His hour had come. + +Suddenly Lord Camberwell spoke in a loud peremptory voice: + +"Stop! Mr. Jillingham is cheating. He does it in the deal. I have +watched him now for three rounds." + +"And so have I," added Colonel Le Grice. + +Gilly sprang to his feet. For a moment he seemed disposed to brazen it +out; then he read his sentence in the face of those who had detected +and now judged him. There was no appeal: he was doomed. From +henceforth he was socially and morally dead, and, without a word, he +slunk away from the house. + +The buzz of the ball-room soon caught up the ugly scandal, and tossed +it wildly from lip to lip. "Mr. Jillingham caught cheating at cards!" +Everyone said, of course, they had suspected it all along; now every +one knew it as a fact, except those most nearly concerned. To them it +came last. To Phillipa, whose heart it stabbed as with a knife, cut +through and through; then to Mrs. Purling, who, a little taken aback +by the sudden exodus of her guests, asked innocently what it meant, +upon which some one, without knowing who she was, told her the exact +truth. + +Quite stunned by the terrible shock, dazed, terrified, was the +heiress, scarcely capable of comprehending what had occurred. Then +with a sad, scared face, motioning Phillipa on one side, who, equally +white and grief-stricken, would have helped her, she crept slowly +upstairs, feeling that at one blow the whole fabric of her social +repute was tumbled in the dust. + +The lights were out, the play was over, the house still and silent, +when, with loud shrieks, Mrs. Purling's maid rushed to Phillipa's +room. + +"Mrs. Purling, ma'am!--my mistress, she is dying! Come to her! She is +nearly gone!" + +In truth, the poor old woman was in the extremest agony; it was quite +terrible to see her. She gasped as if for air; her whole frame jerked +and twitched with the violence of her convulsions; gradually her body +was drawn in a curve, like that of a tensely-strung bow. + +The spasms abated, then recommenced; abated, then raged with increased +fury. But through it all she was conscious; she had even the power of +speech, and cried aloud again and again, with a bitter heart-wrung +cry, for "Harold! Harold!" the absent much-wronged son. + +"The symptoms are those of tetanus," said the nearest medical +practitioner, who had been called in. He seemed fairly puzzled. +"Tetanus or--" He did not finish the sentence, because the single +word that was on his lips formed a serious charge against a person or +persons unknown. "But there is nothing to explain lock-jaw; while the +abatement of the symptoms points to--" Again he paused. + +The muscles of the mouth, which had been the last attacked, gradually +resumed their normal condition. The patient appeared altogether more +easy, the writhings subsided; presently, as if utterly exhausted, she +sank off to sleep. + +Harold Purling had come up post-haste from Harbridge; and when the +mother opened her eyes they rested upon her son. + +A hurried consultation passed in whispers between the two doctors. +Phillipa was present; she and the maid had not left Mrs. Purling all +night. + +"Mother," said Harold, "you are out of all danger. Tell me--do you +recollect taking anything likely to make you ill?" + +"Only the pills." She pointed to the family medicine--a box of which +stood always by her bedside. She had some curious notion that it was +her duty to show belief in the Primeval Pills, and she made a practice +of swallowing two morning and night. + +Harold opened the box; examined the pills; finally put one into his +mouth and bit it through. Bitter as gall. + +"They have been tampered with," he said. "These contain strychnia. You +have had a narrow escape of being poisoned, dearest mother--poisoned +by your own Pills!" + +He half smiled at the conceit. + +"There has been foul play, I swear. It shall be sifted to the bottom, +and the guilty called to serious account." + +But the mystery was never solved. If Phillipa had in her heart +misgivings, she kept her suspicions to herself; no one accused her; +there seemed explanation for her cowed and trembling manner in Gilly's +downfall and disgrace. The man himself never reappeared openly; only +now and again he swooped down and robbed Phillipa of all she, +possessed--the thrift of her allowance from Mrs. Purling. + +As for the heiress, surrounded by the real love and warm hearts of her +lineal descendants, she was satisfied to eschew all further +acquaintance with people of the Blue Blood. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN RED LINE; AND BLUE BLOOD*** + + +******* This file should be named 17434.txt or 17434.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/4/3/17434 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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