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+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-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***
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