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diff --git a/2687-h/2687-h.htm b/2687-h/2687-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b504af --- /dev/null +++ b/2687-h/2687-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12218 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Snare, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snare, by Rafael Sabatini + +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 Snare + +Author: Rafael Sabatini + +Release Date: January 2, 2009 [EBook #2687] +Last Updated: October 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNARE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE SNARE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE SNARE</b></big> </a><br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE AFFAIR AT TAVORA + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + ULTIMATUM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> LADY + O’MOY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> COUNT + SAMOVAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + FUGITIVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> MISS + ARMYTAGE’S PEARLS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + ALLY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + INTELLIGENCE OFFICER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. + </a> THE GENERAL ORDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> + CHAPTER X. </a> THE STIFLED QUARREL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE CHALLENGE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE DUEL <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> POLICHINELLE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE + CHAMPION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE + WALLET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE + EVIDENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> BITTER + WATER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> FOOL’S + MATE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE + TRUTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> THE + RESIGNATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> SANCTUARY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> POSTSCRIPTUM. </a> + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE SNARE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE AFFAIR AT TAVORA + </h2> + <p> + It is established beyond doubt that Mr. Butler was drunk at the time. This + rests upon the evidence of Sergeant Flanagan and the troopers who + accompanied him, and it rests upon Mr. Butler’s own word, as we shall see. + And let me add here and now that however wild and irresponsible a rascal + he may have been, yet by his own lights he was a man of honour, incapable + of falsehood, even though it were calculated to save his skin. I do not + deny that Sir Thomas Picton has described him as a “thieving blackguard.” + But I am sure that this was merely the downright, rather extravagant + manner, of censure peculiar to that distinguished general, and that those + who have taken the expression at its purely literal value have been + lacking at once in charity and in knowledge of the caustic, uncompromising + terms of speech of General Picton whom Lord Wellington, you will remember, + called a rough, foulmouthed devil. + </p> + <p> + In further extenuation it may truthfully be urged that the whole hideous + and odious affair was the result of a misapprehension; although I cannot + go so far as one of Lieutenant Butler’s apologists and accept the view + that he was the victim of a deliberate plot on the part of his too-genial + host at Regoa. That is a misconception easily explained. This host’s name + happened to be Souza, and the apologist in question has very rashly leapt + at the conclusion that he was a member of that notoriously intriguing + family, of which the chief members were the Principal Souza, of the + Council of Regency at Lisbon, and the Chevalier Souza, Portuguese minister + to the Court of St. James’s. Unacquainted with Portugal, our apologist was + evidently in ignorance of the fact that the name of Souza is almost as + common in that country as the name of Smith in this. He may also have been + misled by the fact that Principal Souza did not neglect to make the utmost + capital out of the affair, thereby increasing the difficulties with which + Lord Wellington was already contending as a result of incompetence and + deliberate malice on the part both of the ministry at home and of the + administration in Lisbon. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, but for these factors it is unlikely that the affair could ever + have taken place at all. If there had been more energy on the part of Mr. + Perceval and the members of the Cabinet, if there had been less bad faith + and self-seeking on the part of the Opposition, Lord Wellington’s campaign + would not have been starved as it was; and if there had been less bad + faith and self-seeking of an even more stupid and flagrant kind on the + part of the Portuguese Council of Regency, the British Expeditionary Force + would not have been left without the stipulated supplies and otherwise + hindered at every step. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington might have experienced the mental agony of Sir John Moore + under similar circumstances fifteen months earlier. That he did suffer, + and was to suffer yet more, his correspondence shows. But his iron will + prevented that suffering from disturbing the equanimity of his mind. The + Council of Regency, in its concern to court popularity with the + aristocracy of Portugal, might balk his measures by its deliberate + supineness; echoes might reach him of the voices at St. Stephen’s that + loudly dubbed his dispositions rash, presumptuous and silly; + catch-halfpenny journalists at home and men of the stamp of Lord Grey + might exploit their abysmal military ignorance in reckless criticism and + censure of his operations; he knew what a passionate storm of anger and + denunciation had arisen from the Opposition when he had been raised to the + peerage some months earlier, after the glorious victory of Talavera, and + how, that victory notwithstanding, it had been proclaimed that his conduct + of the campaign was so incompetent as to deserve, not reward, but + punishment; and he was aware of the growing unpopularity of the war in + England, knew that the Government—ignorant of what he was so + laboriously preparing—was chafing at his inactivity of the past few + months, so that a member of the Cabinet wrote to him exasperatedly, + incredibly and fatuously—“for God’s sake do something—anything + so that blood be spilt.” + </p> + <p> + A heart less stout might have been broken, a genius less mighty stifled in + this evil tangle of stupidity, incompetence and malignity that sprang up + and flourished about him on every hand. A man less single-minded must have + succumbed to exasperation, thrown up his command and taken ship for home, + inviting some of his innumerable critics to take his place at the head of + the troops, and give free rein to the military genius that inspired their + critical dissertations. Wellington, however, has been rightly termed of + iron, and never did he show himself more of iron than in those trying days + of 1810. Stern, but with a passionless sternness, he pursued his way + towards the goal he had set himself, allowing no criticism, no censure, no + invective so much as to give him pause in his majestic progress. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately the lofty calm of the Commander-in-Chief was not shared by + his lieutenants. The Light Division was quartered along the River Agueda, + watching the Spanish frontier, beyond which Marshal Ney was demonstrating + against Ciudad Rodrigo, and for lack of funds its fiery-tempered + commander, Sir Robert Craufurd, found himself at last unable to feed his + troops. Exasperated by these circumstances, Sir Robert was betrayed into + an act of rashness. He seized some church plate at Pinhel that he might + convert it into rations. It was an act which, considering the general + state of public feeling in the country at the time, might have had the + gravest consequences, and Sir Robert was subsequently forced to do penance + and afford redress. That, however, is another story. I but mention the + incident here because the affair of Tavora with which I am concerned may + be taken to have arisen directly out of it, and Sir Robert’s behaviour may + be construed as setting an example and thus as affording yet another + extenuation of Lieutenant Butler’s offence. + </p> + <p> + Our lieutenant was sent upon a foraging expedition into the valley of the + Upper Douro, at the head of a half-troop of the 8th Dragoons, two + squadrons of which were attached at the time to the Light Division. To be + more precise, he was to purchase and bring into Pinhel a hundred head of + cattle, intended some for slaughter and some for draught. His instructions + were to proceed as far as Regoa and there report himself to one + Bartholomew Bearsley, a prosperous and influential English wine-grower, + whose father had acquired considerable vineyards in the Douro. He was + reminded of the almost hostile disposition of the peasantry in certain + districts; warned to handle them with tact and to suffer no straggling on + the part of his troopers; and advised to place himself in the hands of Mr. + Bearsley for all that related to the purchase of the cattle. Let it be + admitted at once that had Sir Robert Craufurd been acquainted with Mr. + Butler’s feather-brained, irresponsible nature, he would have selected any + officer rather than our lieutenant to command that expedition. But the + Irish Dragoons had only lately come to Pinhel, and the general himself was + not immediately concerned. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Butler set out on a blustering day of March at the head of his + troopers, accompanied by Cornet O’Rourke and two sergeants, and at + Pesqueira he was further reinforced by a Portuguese guide. They found + quarters that night at Ervedoza, and early on the morrow they were in the + saddle again, riding along the heights above the Cachao da Valleria, + through which the yellow, swollen river swirled and foamed along its rocky + way. The prospect, formidable even in the full bloom of fruitful and + luxuriant summer, was forbidding and menacing now as some imagined gorge + of the nether regions. The towering granite heights across the turgid + stream were shrouded in mist and sweeping rain, and from the leaden + heavens overhead the downpour was of a sullen and merciless steadiness, + starting at every step a miniature torrent to go swell the roaring waters + in the gorge, and drenching the troop alike in body and in spirit. Ahead, + swathed to the chin in his blue cavalry cloak, the water streaming from + his leather helmet, rode Lieutenant Butler, cursing the weather, the + country; the Light Division, and everything else that occurred to him as + contributing to his present discomfort. Beside him, astride of a mule, + rode the Portuguese guide in a caped cloak of thatched straw, which made + him look for all the world like a bottle of his native wine in its straw + sheath. Conversation between the two was out of the question, for the + guide spoke no English and the lieutenant’s knowledge of Portuguese was + very far from conversational. + </p> + <p> + Presently the ground sloped, and the troop descended from the heights by a + road flanked with dripping pinewoods, black and melancholy, that for a + while screened them off from the remainder of the sodden world. Thence + they emerged near the head of the bridge that spanned the swollen river + and led them directly into the town of Regoa. Through the mud and clay of + the deserted, narrow, unpaved streets the dragoons squelched their way, + under a super-deluge, for the rain was now reinforced by steady and + overwhelming sheets of water descending on either side from the + gutter-shaped tiles that roofed the houses. + </p> + <p> + Inquisitive faces showed here and there behind blurred windows; odd doors + were opened that a peasant family might stare in questioning wonder—and + perhaps in some concern—at the sodden pageant that was passing. But + in the streets themselves the troopers met no living thing, all the world + having scurried to shelter from the pitiless downpour. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the town they were brought by their guide to a walled garden, and + halted at a gateway. Beyond this could be seen a fair white house set in + the foreground of the vineyards that rose in terraces up the hillside + until they were lost from sight in the lowering veils of mist. Carved on + the granite lintel of that gateway, the lieutenant beheld the inscription, + “BARTHOLOMEU BEARSLEY, 1744,” and knew himself at his destination, at the + gates of the son or grandson—he knew not which, nor cared—of + the original tenant of that wine farm. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bearsley, however, was from home. The lieutenant was informed of this + by Mr. Bearsley’s steward, a portly, genial, rather priestly gentleman in + smooth black broadcloth, whose name was Souza—a name which, as I + have said, has given rise to some misconceptions. Mr. Bearsley himself had + lately left for England, there to wait until the disturbed state of + Portugal should be happily repaired. He had been a considerable sufferer + from the French invasion under Soult, and none may blame him for wishing + to avoid a repetition of what already he had undergone, especially now + that it was rumoured that the Emperor in person would lead the army + gathering for conquest on the frontiers. + </p> + <p> + But had Mr. Bearsley been at home the dragoons could have received no + warmer welcome than that which was extended to them by Fernando Souza. + Greeting the lieutenant in intelligible English, he implored him, in the + florid manner of the Peninsula, to count the house and all within it his + own property, and to command whatever he might desire. + </p> + <p> + The troopers found accommodation in the kitchen and in the spacious hall, + where great fires of pine logs were piled up for their comfort; and for + the remainder of the day they abode there in various states of nakedness, + relieved by blankets and straw capotes, what time the house was filled + with the steam and stench of their drying garments. Rations had been short + of late on the Agueda, and, in addition, their weary ride through the rain + had made the men sharp-set. Abundance of food was placed before them by + the solicitude of Fernando Souza, and they feasted, as they had not + feasted for many months, upon roast kid, boiled rice and golden maize + bread, washed down by a copious supply of a rough and not too heady wine + that the discreet and discriminating steward judged appropriate to their + palates and capable of supporting some abuse. + </p> + <p> + Akin to the treatment of the troopers in hall and kitchen, but on a nobler + scale, was the treatment of Lieutenant Butler and Cornet O’Rourke in the + dining-room. For them a well-roasted turkey took the place of kid, and + Souza went down himself to explore the cellars for a well-sunned, + time-ripened Douro table wine which he vowed—and our dragoons agreed + with him—would put the noblest Burgundy to shame; and then with the + dessert there was a Port the like of which Mr. Butler—who was always + of a nice taste in wine, and who was coming into some knowledge of Port + from his residence in the country—had never dreamed existed. + </p> + <p> + For four and twenty hours the dragoons abode at Mr. Bearsley’s quinta, + thanking God for the discomforts that had brought them to such comfort, + feasting in this land of plenty as only those can feast who have kept a + rigid Lent. Nor was this all. The benign Souza was determined that the + sojourn there of these representatives of his country’s deliverers should + be a complete rest and holiday. Not for Mr. Butler to journey to the + uplands in this matter of a herd of bullocks. Fernando Souza had at + command a regiment of labourers, who were idle at this time of year, and + whom his good nature would engage on behalf of his English guests. Let the + lieutenant do no more than provide the necessary money for the cattle, and + the rest should happen as by enchantment—and Souza himself would see + to it that the price was fair and proper. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant asked no better. He had no great opinion of himself either + as cattle dealer or cattle drover, nor did his ambitions beget in him any + desire to excel as one or the other. So he was well content that his host + should have the bullocks fetched to Regoa for him. The herd was driven in + on the following afternoon, by when the rain had ceased, and our + lieutenant had every reason to be pleased when he beheld the solid beasts + procured. Having disbursed the amount demanded—an amount more + reasonable far than he had been prepared to pay—Mr. Butler would + have set out forthwith to return to Pinhel, knowing how urgent was the + need of the division and with what impatience the choleric General + Craufurd would be awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, so you shall, so you shall,” said the priestly, soothing Souza. “But + first you’ll dine. There is good dinner—ah, but what good dinner!—that + I have order. And there is a wine—ah, but you shall give me news of + that wine.” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Butler hesitated. Cornet O’Rourke watched him anxiously, + praying that he might succumb to the temptation, and attempted suasion in + the form of a murmured blessing upon Souza’s hospitality. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Robert will be impatient,” demurred the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “But half-hour,” protested Souza. “What is half-hour? And in half-hour you + will have dine.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” ventured the cornet; “and it’s the devil himself knows when we may + dine again.” + </p> + <p> + “And the dinner is ready. It can be serve this instant. It shall,” said + Souza with finality, and pulled the bell-rope. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler, never dreaming—as indeed how could he?—that Fate + was taking a hand in this business, gave way, and they sat down to dinner. + Henceforth you see him the sport of pitiless circumstance. + </p> + <p> + They dined within the half-hour, as Souza had promised, and they dined + exceedingly well. If yesterday the steward had been able without warning + of their coming to spread at short notice so excellent a feast, conceive + what had been accomplished now by preparation. Emptying his fourth and + final bumper of rich red Douro, Mr. Butler paid his host the compliment of + a sigh and pushed back his chair. + </p> + <p> + But Souza detained him, waving a hand that trembled with anxiety, and with + anxiety stamped upon his benignly rotund and shaven countenance. + </p> + <p> + “An instant yet,” he implored. “Mr. Bearsley would never pardon me did I + let you go without what he call a stirrup-cup to keep you from the ills + that lurk in the wind of the Serra. A glass—but one—of that + Port you tasted yesterday. I say but a glass, yet I hope you will do + honour to the bottle. But a glass at least, at least!” He implored it + almost with tears. Mr. Butler had reached that state of delicious torpor + in which to take the road is the last agony; but duty was duty, and Sir + Robert Craufurd had the fiend’s own temper. Torn thus between + consciousness of duty and the weakness of the flesh, he looked at + O’Rourke. O’Rourke, a cherubic fellow, who had for his years a very pretty + taste in wine, returned the glance with a moist eye, and licked his lips. + </p> + <p> + “In your place I should let myself be tempted,” says he. “It’s an elegant + wine, and ten minutes more or less is no great matter.” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant discovered a middle way which permitted him to take a + prompt decision creditable to his military instincts, but revealing a + disgraceful though quite characteristic selfishness. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said. “Leave Sergeant Flanagan and ten men to wait for me, + O’Rourke, and do you set out at once with the rest of the troop. And take + the cattle with you. I shall overtake you before you have gone very far.” + </p> + <p> + O’Rourke’s crestfallen air stirred the sympathetic Souza’s pity. + </p> + <p> + “But, Captain,” he besought, “will you not allow the lieutenant—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler cut him short. “Duty,” said he sententiously, “is duty. Be off, + O’Rourke.” + </p> + <p> + And O’Rourke, clicking his heels viciously, saluted and departed. + </p> + <p> + Came presently the bottles in a basket—not one, as Souza had said, + but three; and when the first was done Butler reflected that since + O’Rourke and the cattle were already well upon the road there need no + longer be any hurry about his own departure. A herd of bullocks does not + travel very quickly, and even with a few hours’ start in a forty-mile + journey is easily over-taken by a troop of horse travelling without + encumbrance. + </p> + <p> + You understand, then, how easily our lieutenant yielded himself to the + luxurious circumstances, and disposed himself to savour the second bottle + of that nectar distilled from the very sunshine of the Douro—the + phrase is his own. The steward produced a box of very choice cigars, and + although the lieutenant was not an habitual smoker, he permitted himself + on this exceptional occasion to be further tempted. Stretched in a deep + chair beside the roaring fire of pine logs, he sipped and smoked and + drowsed away the greater par of that wintry afternoon. Soon the third + bottle had gone the way of the second, and Mr. Bearsley’s steward being a + man of extremely temperate habit, it follows that most of the wine had + found its way down the lieutenant’s thirsty gullet. + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps a more potent vintage than he had at first suspected, and + as the torpor produced by the dinner and the earlier, fuller wine was + wearing off, it was succeeded by an exhilaration that played havoc with + the few wits that Mr. Butler could call his own. + </p> + <p> + The steward was deeply learned in wines and wine growing and in very + little besides; consequently the talk was almost confined to that subject + in its many branches, and he could be interesting enough, like all + enthusiasts. To a fresh burst of praise from Butler of the ruby vintage to + which he had been introduced, the steward presently responded with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, as you say, Captain, a great wine. But we had a greater.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, by God,” swore Butler, with a hiccup. + </p> + <p> + “You may say so; but it is the truth. We had a greater; a wonderful, clear + vintage it was, of the year 1798—a famous year on the Douro, the + quite most famous year that we have ever known. Mr. Bearsley sell some + pipes to the monks at Tavora, who have bottle it and keep it. I beg him at + the time not to sell, knowing the value it must come to have one day. But + he sell all the same. Ah, meu Deus!” The steward clasped his hands and + raised rather prominent eyes to the ceiling, protesting to his Maker + against his master’s folly. “He say we have plenty, and now”—he + spread fat hands in a gesture of despair—“and now we have none. Some + sons of dogs of French who came with Marshal Soult happen this way on a + forage they discover the wine and they guzzle it like pigs.” He swore, and + his benignity was eclipsed by wrathful memory. He heaved himself up in a + passion. + </p> + <p> + “Think of that so priceless vintage drink like hogwash, as Mr. Bearsley + say, by those god-dammed French swine, not a drop—not a spoonful + remain. But the monks at Tavora still have much of what they buy, I am + told. They treasure it for they know good wine. All priests know good + wine. Ah yes! Goddam!” He fell into deep reflection. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Butler stirred, and became sympathetic. + </p> + <p> + “‘San infern’l shame,” said he indignantly. “I’ll no forgerrit when I... + meet the French.” Then he too fell into reflection. + </p> + <p> + He was a good Catholic, and, moreover, a Catholic who did not take things + for granted. The sloth and self-indulgence of the clergy in Portugal, + being his first glimpse of conventuals in Latin countries, had deeply + shocked him. The vows of a monastic poverty that was kept carefully beyond + the walls of the monastery offended his sense of propriety. That men who + had vowed themselves to pauperism, who wore coarse garments and went + barefoot, should batten upon rich food and store up wines that gold could + not purchase, struck him as a hideous incongruity. + </p> + <p> + “And the monks drink this nectar?” he said aloud, and laughed sneeringly. + “I know the breed—the fair found belly wi’ fat capon lined. Tha’s + your poverty stricken Capuchin.” + </p> + <p> + Souza looked at him in sudden alarm, bethinking himself that all + Englishmen were heretics, and knowing nothing of subtle distinctions + between English and Irish. In silence Butler finished the third and last + bottle, and his thoughts fixed themselves with increasing insistence upon + a wine reputed better than this of which there was great store in the + cellars of the convent of Tavora. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly he asked: “Where’s Tavora?” He was thinking perhaps of the + comfort that such wine would bring to a company of war-worn soldiers in + the valley of the Agueda. + </p> + <p> + “Some ten leagues from here,” answered Souza, and pointed to a map that + hung upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant rose, and rolled a thought unsteadily across the room. He + was a tall, loose-limbed fellow, blue-eyed, fair-complexioned, with a + thatch of fiery red hair excellently suited to his temperament. He halted + before the map, and with legs wide apart, to afford him the steadying + support of a broad basis, he traced with his finger the course of the + Douro, fumbled about the district of Regoa, and finally hit upon the place + he sought. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “seems to me ‘sif we should ha’ come that way. I’s shorrer + road to Pesqueira than by the river.” + </p> + <p> + “As the bird fly,” said Souza. “But the roads be bad—just mule + tracks, while by the river the road is tolerable good.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” said the lieutenant, “I think I shall go back tha’ way.” + </p> + <p> + The fumes of the wine were mounting steadily to addle his indifferent + brains. Every moment he was seeing things in proportions more and more + false. His resentment against priests who, sworn to self-abnegation, + hoarded good wine, whilst soldiers sent to keep harm from priests’ fat + carcasses were left to suffer cold and even hunger, was increasing with + every moment. He would sample that wine at Tavora; and he would bear some + of it away that his brother officers at Pinhel might sample it. He would + buy it. Oh yes! There should be no plundering, no irregularity, no + disregard of general orders. He would buy the wine and pay for it—but + himself he would fix the price, and see that the monks of Tavora made no + profit out of their defenders. + </p> + <p> + Thus he thought as he considered the map. Presently, when having taken + leave of Fernando Souza—that prince of hosts—Mr. Butler was + riding down through the town with Sergeant Flanagan and ten troopers at + his heels, his purpose deepened and became more fierce. I think the change + of temperature must have been to blame. It was a chill, bleak evening. + Overhead, across a background of faded blue, scudded ragged banks of + clouds, the lingering flotsam of the shattered rainstorm of yesterday: and + a cavalry cloak afforded but indifferent protection against the wind that + blew hard and sharp from the Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + Coming from the genial warmth of Mr. Souza’s parlour into this, the + evaporation of the wine within him was quickened, its fumes mounted now + overwhelmingly to his brain, and from comfortably intoxicated that he had + been hitherto, the lieutenant now became furiously drunk; and the + transition was a very rapid one. It was now that he looked upon the + business he had in hand in the light of a crusade; a sort of religious + fanaticism began to actuate him. + </p> + <p> + The souls of these wretched monks must be saved; the temptation to + self-indulgence, which spelt perdition for them, must be removed from + their midst. It was a Christian duty. He no longer thought of buying the + wine and paying for it. His one aim now was to obtain possession of it not + merely a part of it, but all of it—and carry it off, thereby + accomplishing two equally praiseworthy ends: to rescue a conventful of + monks from damnation, and to regale the much-enduring, half-starved + campaigners of the Agueda. + </p> + <p> + Thus reasoned Mr. Butler with admirable, if drunken, logic. And reasoning + thus he led the way over the bridge, and kept straight on when he had + crossed it, much to the dismay of Sergeant Flanagan, who, perceiving the + lieutenant’s condition, conceived that he was missing his way. This the + sergeant ventured to point out, reminding his officer that they had come + by the road along the river. + </p> + <p> + “So we did,” said Butler shortly. “Bu’ we go back by way of Tavora.” + </p> + <p> + They had no guide. The one who had conducted them to Regoa had returned + with O’Rourke, and although Souza had urged upon the lieutenant at parting + that he should take one of the men from the quinta, Butler, with wit + enough to see that this was not desirable under the circumstances, had + preferred to find his way alone. + </p> + <p> + His confused mind strove now to revisualise the map which he had consulted + in Souza’s parlour. He discovered, naturally enough, that the task was + altogether beyond his powers. Meanwhile night was descending. They were, + however, upon the mule track, which went up and round the shoulder of a + hill, and by this they came at dark upon a hamlet. + </p> + <p> + Sergeant Flanagan was a shrewd fellow and perhaps the most sober man in + the troop—for the wine had run very freely in Souza’s kitchen, too, + and the men, whilst awaiting their commander’s pleasure, had taken the + fullest advantage of an opportunity that was all too rare upon that + campaign. Now Sergeant Flanagan began to grow anxious. He knew the + Peninsula from the days of Sir John Moore, and he knew as much of the ways + of the peasantry of Portugal as any man. He knew of the brutal ferocity of + which that peasantry was capable. He had seen evidence more than once of + the unspeakable fate of French stragglers from the retreating army of + Marshal Soult. He knew of crucifixions, mutilations and hideous + abominations practised upon them in these remote hill districts by the + merciless men into whose hands they happened to fall, and he knew that it + was not upon French soldiers alone—that these abominations had been + practised. Some of those fierce peasants had been unable to discriminate + between invader and deliverer; to them a foreigner was a foreigner and no + more. Others, who were capable of discriminating, were in the position of + having come to look upon French and English with almost equal execration. + </p> + <p> + It is true that whilst the Emperor’s troops made war on the maxim that an + army must support itself upon the country it traverses, thereby achieving + a greater mobility, since it was thus permitted to travel comparatively + light, the British law was that all things requisitioned must be paid for. + Wellington maintained this law in spite of all difficulties at all times + with an unrelaxing rigidity, and punished with the utmost vigour those who + offended against it. Nevertheless breaches were continual; men broke out + here and there, often, be it said, under stress of circumstances for which + the Portuguese were themselves responsible; plunder and outrage took place + and provoked indiscriminating rancour with consequences at times as + terrible to stragglers from the British army of deliverance as to those + from the French army of oppressors. Then, too, there was the Portuguese + Militia Act recently enforced by Wellington—acting through the + Portuguese Government—deeply resented by the peasantry upon whom it + bore, and rendering them disposed to avenge it upon such stray British + soldiers as might fall into their hands. + </p> + <p> + Knowing all this, Sergeant Flanagan did not at all relish this night + excursion into the hill fastnesses, where at any moment, as it seemed to + him, they might miss their way. After all, they were but twelve men all + told, and he accounted it a stupid thing to attempt to take a short cut + across the hills for the purpose of overtaking an encumbered troop that + must of necessity be moving at a very much slower pace. This was the way + not to overtake but to outdistance. Yet since it was not for him to + remonstrate with the lieutenant, he kept his peace and hoped anxiously for + the best. + </p> + <p> + At the mean wine-shop of that hamlet Mr. Butler inquired his way by the + simple expedient of shouting “Tavora?” with a strong interrogative + inflection. The vintner made it plain by gestures—accompanied by a + rattling musketry of incomprehensible speech that their way lay straight + ahead. And straight ahead they went, following that mule track for some + five or six miles until it began to slope gently towards the plain again. + Below them they presently beheld a cluster of twinkling lights to + advertise a township. They dropped swiftly down, and in the outskirts + overtook a belated bullock-cart, whose ungreased axle was arousing the + hillside echoes with its plangent wail. + </p> + <p> + Of the vigorous young woman who marched barefoot beside it, shouldering + her goad as if it were a pikestaff, Mr. Butler inquired—by his usual + method—if this were Tavora, to receive an answer which, though + voluble, was unmistakably affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Covento Dominicano?” was his next inquiry, made after they had gone some + little way. + </p> + <p> + The woman pointed with her goad to a massive, dark building, flanked by a + little church, which stood just across the square they were entering. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the sergeant, by Mr. Butler’s orders, was knocking upon the + iron-studded main door. They waited awhile in vain. None came to answer + the knock; no light showed anywhere upon the dark face of the convent. The + sergeant knocked again, more vigorously than before. Presently came timid, + shuffling steps; a shutter opened in the door, and the grille thus + disclosed was pierced by a shaft of feeble yellow light. A quavering, aged + voice demanded to know who knocked. + </p> + <p> + “English soldiers,” answered the lieutenant in Portuguese. “Open!” + </p> + <p> + A faint exclamation suggestive of dismay was the answer, the shutter + closed again with a snap, the shuffling steps retreated and unbroken + silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “Now wharra devil may this mean?” growled Mr. Butler. Drugged wits, like + stupid ones, are readily suspicious. “Wharra they hatching in here that + they are afraid of lerring Bri’ish soldiers see? Knock again, Flanagan. + Louder, man!” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant beat the door with the butt of his carbine. The blows gave + out a hollow echo, but evoked no more answer than if they had fallen upon + the door of a mausoleum. Mr. Butler completely lost his temper. “Seems to + me that we’ve stumbled upon a hotbed o’ treason. Hotbed o’ treason!” he + repeated, as if pleased with the phrase. “That’s wharrit is.” And he added + peremptorily: “Break down the door.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” began the sergeant in protest, greatly daring. + </p> + <p> + “Break down the door,” repeated Mr. Butler. “Lerrus be after seeing wha’ + these monks are afraid of showing us. I’ve a notion they’re hiding more’n + their wine.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the troopers carried axes precisely against such an emergency as + this. Dismounting, they fell upon the door with a will. But the oak was + stout, fortified by bands of iron and great iron studs; and it resisted + long. The thud of the axes and the crash of rending timbers could be heard + from one end of Tavora to the other, yet from the convent it evoked no + slightest response. But presently, as the door began to yield to the + onslaught, there came another sound to arouse the town. From the belfry of + the little church a bell suddenly gave tongue upon a frantic, hurried note + that spoke unmistakably of alarm. Ding-ding-ding-ding it went, a tocsin + summoning the assistance of all true sons of Mother Church. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler, however, paid little heed to it. The door was down at last, + and followed by his troopers he rode under the massive gateway into the + spacious close. Dismounting there, and leaving the woefully anxious + sergeant and a couple of men to guard the horses, the lieutenant led the + way along the cloisters, faintly revealed by a new-risen moon, towards a + gaping doorway whence a feeble light was gleaming. He stumbled over the + step into a hall dimly lighted by a lantern swinging from the ceiling. He + found a chair, mounted it, and cut the lantern down, then led the way + again along an endless corridor, stone-flagged and flanked on either side + by rows of cells. Many of the doors stood open, as if in silent token of + the tenants’ hurried flight, showing what a panic had been spread by the + sudden advent of this troop. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler became more and more deeply intrigued, more and more deeply + suspicious that here all was not well. Why should a community of loyal + monks take flight in this fashion from British soldiers? + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to them!” he growled, as he stumbled on. “They may hide as they + will, but it’s myself ‘ll run the shavelings to earth.” + </p> + <p> + They were brought up short at the end of that long, chill gallery by + closed double doors. Beyond these an organ was pealing, and overhead the + clapper of the alarm bell was beating more furiously than ever. All + realised that they stood upon the threshold of the chapel and that the + conventuals had taken refuge there. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler checked upon a sudden suspicion. “Maybe, after all, they’ve + taken us for French,” said he. + </p> + <p> + A trooper ventured to answer him. “Best let them see we’re not before we + have the whole village about our ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn that bell,” said the lieutenant, and added: “Put your shoulders to + the door.” + </p> + <p> + Its fastenings were but crazy ones, and it yielded almost instantly to + their pressure—yielded so suddenly that Mr. Butler, who himself had + been foremost in straining against it, shot forward half-a-dozen yards + into the chapel and measured his length upon its cold flags. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously from the chancel came a great cry: “Libera nos, Domine!” + followed by a shuddering murmur of prayer. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant picked himself up, recovered the lantern that had rolled + from his grasp, and lurched forward round the angle that hid the chancel + from his view. There, huddled before the main altar like a flock of scared + and stupid sheep, he beheld the conventuals—some two score of them + perhaps and in the dim light of the heavy altar lamp above them he could + make out the black and white habit of the order of St. Dominic. + </p> + <p> + He came to a halt, raised his lantern aloft, and called to them + peremptorily: + </p> + <p> + “Ho, there!” + </p> + <p> + The organ ceased abruptly, but the bell overhead went clattering on. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Butler addressed them in the best French he could command: “What do + you fear? Why do you flee? We are friends—English soldiers, seeking + quarters for the night.” + </p> + <p> + A vague alarm was stirring in him. It began to penetrate his obfuscated + mind that perhaps he had been rash, that this forcible rape of a convent + was a serious matter. Therefore he attempted this peaceful explanation. + </p> + <p> + From that huddled group a figure rose, and advanced with a solemn, stately + grace. There was a faint swish of robes, the faint rattle of rosary beads. + Something about that figure caught the lieutenant’s attention sharply. He + craned forward, half sobered by the sudden fear that clutched him, his + eyes bulging in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I had thought,” said a gentle, melancholy woman’s voice, “that the seals + of a nunnery were sacred to British soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mr. Butler seemed to be labouring for breath. Fully sobered + now, understanding of his ghastly error reached him at the gallop. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he gasped, and incontinently turned to flee. + </p> + <p> + But as he fled in horror of his sacrilege, he still kept his head turned, + staring over his shoulder at the stately figure of the abbess, either in + fascination or with some lingering doubt of what he had seen and heard. + Running thus, he crashed headlong into a pillar, and, stunned by the blow, + he reeled and sank unconscious to the ground. + </p> + <p> + This the troopers had not seen, for they had not lingered. Understanding + on their own part the horrible blunder, they had turned even as their + leader turned, and they had raced madly back the way they had come, + conceiving that he followed. And there was reason for their haste other + than their anxiety to set a term to the sacrilege of their presence. From + the cloistered garden of the convent uproar reached them, and the metallic + voice of Sergeant Flanagan calling loudly for help. + </p> + <p> + The alarm bell of the convent had done its work. The villagers were up, + enraged by the outrage, and armed with sticks and scythes and bill-hooks, + an army of them was charging to avenge this infamy. The troopers reached + the close no more than in time. Sergeant Flanagan, only half understanding + the reason for so much anger, but understanding that this anger was very + real and very dangerous, was desperately defending the horses with his two + companions against the vanguard of the assailants. There was a swift rush + of the dragoons and in an instant they were in the saddle, all but the + lieutenant, of whose absence they were suddenly made conscious. Flanagan + would have gone back for him, and he had in fact begun to issue an order + with that object when a sudden surge of the swelling, roaring crowd cut + off the dragoons from the door through which they had emerged. Sitting + their horses, the little troop came together, their sabres drawn, solid as + a rock in that angry human sea that surged about them. The moon riding now + clear overhead irradiated that scene of impending strife. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan, standing in his stirrups, attempted to harangue the mob. But he + was at a loss what to say that would appease them, nor able to speak a + language they could understand. An angry peasant made a slash at him with + a billhook. He parried the blow on his sabre, and with the flat of it + knocked his assailant senseless. + </p> + <p> + Then the storm burst, and the mob flung itself upon the dragoons. + </p> + <p> + “Bad cess to you!” cried Flanagan. “Will ye listen to me, ye murthering + villains.” Then in despair “Char-r-r-ge!” he roared, and headed for the + gateway. + </p> + <p> + The troopers attempted in vain to reach it. The mob hemmed them about too + closely, and then a horrid hand-to-hand fight began, under the cold light + of the moon, in that garden consecrated to peace and piety. Two saddles + had been emptied, and the exasperated troopers were slashing now at their + assailants with the edge, intent upon cutting a way out of that murderous + press. It is doubtful if a man of them would have survived, for the odds + were fully ten to one against them. To their aid came now the abbess. She + stood on a balcony above, and called upon the people to desist, and hear + her. Thence she harangued them for some moments, commanding them to allow + the soldiers to depart. They obeyed with obvious reluctance, and at last a + lane was opened in that solid, seething mass of angry clods. + </p> + <p> + But Flanagan hesitated to pass down this lane and so depart. Three of his + troopers were down by now, and his lieutenant was missing. He was + exercised to resolve where his duty lay. Behind him the mob was solid, + cutting off the dragoons from their fallen comrades. An attempt to go back + might be misunderstood and resisted, leading to a renewal of the combat, + and surely in vain, for he could not doubt but that the fallen troopers + had been finished outright. + </p> + <p> + Similarly the mob stood as solid between him and the door that led to the + interior of the convent, where Mr. Butler was lingering alive or dead. A + number of peasants had already invaded the actual building, so that in + that connection too the sergeant concluded that there was little reason to + hope that the lieutenant should have escaped the fate his own rashness had + invoked. He had his remaining seven men to think of, and he concluded that + it was his duty under all the circumstances to bring these off alive, and + not procure their massacre by attempting fruitless quixotries. + </p> + <p> + So “Forward!” roared the voice of Sergeant Flanagan, and forward went the + seven through the passage that had opened out before them in that hooting, + angry mob. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the convent walls they found fresh assailants awaiting them, + enemies these, who had not been soothed by the gentle, reassuring voice of + the abbess. But here there was more room to manoeuvre. + </p> + <p> + “Trot!” the sergeant commanded, and soon that trot became a gallop. A + shower of stones followed them as they thundered out of Tavora, and the + sergeant himself had a lump as large as a duck-egg on the middle of his + head when next day he reported himself at Pesqueira to Cornet O’Rourke, + whom he overtook there. + </p> + <p> + When eventually Sir Robert Craufurd heard the story of the affair, he was + as angry as only Sir Robert could be. To have lost four dragoons and to + have set a match to a train that might end in a conflagration was reason + and to spare. + </p> + <p> + “How came such a mistake to be made?” he inquired, a scowl upon his full + red countenance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke had been investigating and was primed with knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “It appears, sir, that at Tavora there is a convent of Dominican nuns as + well as a monastery of Dominican friars. Mr. Butler will have used the + word ‘convento,’ which more particularly applies to the nunnery, and so he + was directed to the wrong house.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say the sergeant has reason to believe that Mr. Butler did not + survive his folly?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid there can be no hope, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perhaps just as well,” said Sir Robert. “For Lord Wellington would + certainly have had him shot.” + </p> + <p> + And there you have the true account of the stupid affair of Tavora, which + was to produce, as we shall see, such far-reaching effects upon persons + nowise concerned in it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE ULTIMATUM + </h2> + <p> + News of the affair at Tavora reached Sir Terence O’Moy, the + Adjutant-General at Lisbon, about a week later in dispatches from + headquarters. These informed him that in the course of the humble apology + and explanation of the regrettable occurrence offered by the Colonel of + the 8th Dragoons in person to the Mother Abbess, it had transpired that + Lieutenant Butler had left the convent alive, but that nevertheless he + continued absent from his regiment. + </p> + <p> + Those dispatches contained other unpleasant matters of a totally different + nature, with which Sir Terence must proceed to deal at once; but their + gravity was completely outweighed in the adjutant’s mind by this + deplorable affair of Lieutenant Butler’s. Without wishing to convey an + impression that the blunt and downright O’Moy was gifted with any undue + measure of shrewdness, it must nevertheless be said that he was quick to + perceive what fresh thorns the occurrence was likely to throw in a path + that was already thorny enough in all conscience, what a semblance of + justification it must give to the hostility of the intriguers on the + Council of Regency, what a formidable weapon it must place in the hands of + Principal Souza and his partisans. In itself this was enough to trouble a + man in O’Moy’s position. But there was more. Lieutenant Butler happened to + be his brother-in-law, own brother to O’Moy’s lovely, frivolous wife. + Irresponsibility ran strongly in that branch of the Butler family. + </p> + <p> + For the sake of the young wife whom he loved with a passionate and fearful + jealousy such as is not uncommon in a man of O’Moy’s temperament when at + his age—he was approaching his forty-sixth birthday—he marries + a girl of half his years, the adjutant had pulled his brother-in-law out + of many a difficulty; shielded him on many an occasion from the proper + consequences of his incurable rashness. + </p> + <p> + This affair of the convent, however, transcended anything that had gone + before and proved altogether too much for O’Moy. It angered him as much as + it afflicted him. Yet when he took his head in his hands and groaned, it + was only his sorrow that he was expressing, and it was a sorrow entirely + concerned with his wife. + </p> + <p> + The groan attracted the attention of his military secretary, Captain + Tremayne, of Fletcher’s Engineers, who sat at work at a littered + writing-table placed in the window recess. He looked up sharply, sudden + concern in the strong young face and the steady grey eyes he bent upon his + chief. The sight of O’Moy’s hunched attitude brought him instantly to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is the matter, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s that damned fool Richard,” growled O’Moy. “He’s broken out again.” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked relieved. “And is that all?” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy looked at him, white-faced, and in his blue eyes a blaze of that + swift passion that had made his name a byword in the army. + </p> + <p> + “All?” he roared. “You’ll say it’s enough, by God, when you hear what the + fool’s been at this time. Violation of a nunnery, no less.” And he brought + his massive fist down with a crash upon the document that had conveyed the + information. “With a detachment of dragoons he broke into the convent of + the Dominican nuns at Tavora one night a week ago. The alarm bell was + sounded, and the village turned out to avenge the outrage. Consequences: + three troopers killed, five peasants sabred to death and seven other + casualties, Dick himself missing and reported to have escaped from the + convent, but understood to remain in hiding—so that he adds + desertion to the other crime, as if that in itself were not enough to hang + him. That’s all, as you say, and I hope you consider it enough even for + Dick Butler—bad luck to him.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” said Captain Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad that you agree with me.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne stared at his chief, the utmost dismay upon his fine + young face. “But surely, sir, surely—I mean, sir, if this report is + correct some explanation—” He broke down, utterly at fault. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, there’s an explanation. You may always depend upon a most + elegant explanation for anything that Dick Butler does. His life is made + up of mistakes and explanations.” He spoke bitterly, “He broke into the + nunnery under a misapprehension, according to the account of the sergeant + who accompanied him,” and Sir Terence read out that part of the report. + “But how is that to help him, and at such a time as this, with public + feeling as it is, and Wellington in his present temper about it? The + provost’s men are beating the country for the blackguard. When they find + him it’s a firing party he’ll have to face.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne turned slowly to the window and looked down the fair prospect of + the hillside over a forest of cork oaks alive with fresh green shoots to + the silver sheen of the river a mile away. The storms of the preceding + week had spent their fury—the travail that had attended the birth of + Spring—and the day was as fair as a day of June in England. Weaned + forth by the generous sunshine, the burgeoning of vine and fig, of olive + and cork went on apace, and the skeletons of trees which a fortnight since + had stood gaunt and bare were already fleshed in tender green. + </p> + <p> + From the window of this fine conventual house on the heights of Monsanto, + above the suburb of Alcantara, where the Adjutant-General had taken up his + quarters, Captain Tremayne stood a moment considering the panorama spread + to his gaze, from the red-brown roofs of Lisbon on his left—that + city which boasted with Rome that it was built upon a cluster of seven + hills—to the lines of embarkation that were building about the fort + of St. Julian on his left. Then he turned, facing again the spacious, + handsome room with its heavy, semi-ecclesiastical furniture, and Sir + Terence, who, hunched in his chair at the ponderously carved black + writing-table, scowled fiercely at nothing. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do, sir?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence shrugged impatiently and heaved himself up in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” + </p> + <p> + The interrogation, which seemed almost to cover a reproach, irritated the + adjutant. + </p> + <p> + “And what the devil can I do?” he rapped. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve pulled Dick out of scrapes before now.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. That seems to have been my principal occupation ever since I + married his sister. But this time he’s gone too far. What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Wellington is fond of you,” suggested Captain Tremayne. He was your + imperturbable young man, and he remained as calm now as O’Moy was excited. + Although by some twenty years the adjutant’s junior, there was between + O’Moy and himself, as well as between Tremayne and the Butler family, with + which he was remotely connected, a strong friendship, which was largely + responsible for the captain’s present appointment as Sir Terence’s + military secretary. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy looked at him, and looked away. “Yes,” he agreed. “But he’s still + fonder of law and order and military discipline, and I should only be + imperilling our friendship by pleading with him for this young + blackguard.” + </p> + <p> + “The young blackguard is your brother-in-law,” Tremayne reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to you, Tremayne, don’t I know it? Besides, what is there I can + do?” he asked again, and ended testily: “Faith, man, I don’t know what + you’re thinking of.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking of Una,” said Captain Tremayne in that composed way of his, + and the words fell like cold water upon the hot iron of O’Moy’s anger. + </p> + <p> + The man who can receive with patience a reproach, implicit or explicit, of + being wanting in consideration towards his wife is comparatively rare, and + never a man of O’Moy’s temperament and circumstances. Tremayne’s reminder + stung him sharply, and the more sharply because of the strong friendship + that existed between Tremayne and Lady O’Moy. That friendship had in the + past been a thorn in O’Moy’s flesh. In the days of his courtship he had + known a fierce jealousy of Tremayne, beholding in him for a time a rival + who, with the strong advantage of youth, must in the end prevail. But when + O’Moy, putting his fortunes to the test, had declared himself and been + accepted by Una Butler, there had been an end to the jealousy, and the old + relations of cordial friendship between the men had been resumed. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy had conceived that jealousy of his to have been slain. But there had + been times when from its faint, uneasy stirrings he should have taken + warning that it did no more than slumber. Like most warm hearted, + generous, big-natured men, O’Moy was of a singular humility where women + were concerned, and this humility of his would often breathe a doubt lest + in choosing between himself and Tremayne Una might have been guided by her + head rather than her heart, by ambition rather than affection, and that in + taking himself she had taken the man who could give her by far the more + assured and affluent position. + </p> + <p> + He had crushed down such thoughts as disloyal to his young wife, as + ungrateful and unworthy; and at such times he would fall into + self-contempt for having entertained them. Then Una herself had revived + those doubts three months ago, when she had suggested that Ned Tremayne, + who was then at Torres Vedras with Colonel Fletcher, was the very man to + fill the vacant place of military secretary to the adjutant, if he would + accept it. In the reaction of self-contempt, and in a curious surge of + pride almost as perverse as his humility, O’Moy had adopted her + suggestion, and thereafter—in the past-three months, that is to say—the + unreasonable devil of O’Moy’s jealousy had slept, almost forgotten. Now, + by a chance remark whose indiscretion Tremayne could not realise, since he + did not so much as suspect the existence of that devil, he had suddenly + prodded him into wakefulness. That Tremayne should show himself tender of + Lady O’Moy’s feelings in a matter in which O’Moy himself must seem + neglectful of them was gall and wormwood to the adjutant. He dissembled + it, however, out of a natural disinclination to appear in the ridiculous + role of the jealous husband. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is a matter that you may safely leave to me,” and his + lips closed tightly upon the words when they were uttered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite so,” said Tremayne, no whit abashed. He persisted nevertheless. + “You know Una’s feelings for Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “When I married Una,” the adjutant cut in sharply, “I did not marry the + entire Butler family.” It hardened him unreasonably against Dick to have + the family cause pleaded in this way. “It’s sick to death I am of Master + Richard and his escapades. He can get himself out of this mess, or he can + stay in it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you’ll not lift a hand to help him.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a finger,” said O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + And Tremayne, looking straight into the adjutant’s faintly smouldering + blue eyes, beheld there a fierce and rancorous determination which he was + at a loss to understand, but which he attributed to something outside his + own knowledge that must lie between O’Moy and his brother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said gravely. “Since that is how you feel, it is to be + hoped that Dick Butler may not survive to be taken. The alternative would + weigh so cruelly upon Una that I do not care to contemplate it.” + </p> + <p> + “And who the devil asks you to contemplate it?” snapped O’Moy. “I am not + aware that it is any concern of yours at all.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear O’Moy!” It was an exclamation of protest, something between pain + and indignation, under the stress of which Tremayne stepped entirely + outside of the official relations that prevailed between himself and the + adjutant. And the exclamation was accompanied by such a look of dismay and + wounded sensibilities that O’Moy, meeting this, and noting the honest + manliness of Tremayne’s bearing and countenance; was there and then the + victim of reaction. His warm-hearted and impulsive nature made him at once + profoundly ashamed of himself. He stood up, a tall, martial figure, and + his ruggedly handsome, shaven countenance reddened under its tan. He held + out a hand to Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, I beg your pardon. It’s so utterly annoyed I am that the + savage in me will be breaking out. Sure, it isn’t as if it were only this + affair of Dick’s. That is almost the least part of the unpleasantness + contained in this dispatch. Here! In God’s name, read it for yourself, and + judge for yourself whether it’s in human nature to be patient under so + much.” + </p> + <p> + With a shrug and a smile to show that he was entirely mollified, Captain + Tremayne took the papers to his desk and sat down to con them. As he did + so his face grew more and more grave. Before he had reached the end there + was a tap at the door. An orderly entered with the announcement that Dom + Miguel Forjas had just driven up to Monsanto to wait upon the + adjutant-general. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said O’Moy shortly, and exchanged a glance with his secretary. “Show + the gentleman up.” + </p> + <p> + As the orderly withdrew, Tremayne came over and placed the dispatch on the + adjutant’s desk. “He arrives very opportunely,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “So opportunely as to be suspicious, bedad!” said O’Moy. He had brightened + suddenly, his Irish blood quickening at the immediate prospect of strife + which this visit boded. “May the devil admire me, but there’s a warm + morning in store for Mr. Forjas, Ned.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I leave you?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the orderly admitted Miguel Forjas, the Portuguese + Secretary of State. He was a slight, dapper gentleman, all in black, from + his silk stockings and steel-buckled shoes to his satin stock. His keen + aquiline face was swarthy, and the razor had left his chin and cheeks + blue-black. His sleek hair was iron-grey. A portentous gravity invested + him this morning as he bowed with profound deference first to the adjutant + and then to the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellencies,” he said—he spoke an English that was smooth and + fluent for all its foreign accent “Your Excellencies, this is a terrible + affair.” + </p> + <p> + “To what affair will your Excellency be alluding?” wondered O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “Have you not received news of what has happened at Tavora? Of the + violation of a convent by a party of British soldiers? Of the fight that + took place between these soldiers and the peasants who went to succour the + nuns?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and is that all?” said O’Moy. “For a moment I imagined your + Excellency referred to other matters. I have news of more terrible affairs + than the convent business with which to entertain you this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “That, if you will pardon me, Sir Terence, is quite impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You may think so. But you shall judge, bedad. A chair, Dom Miguel.” + </p> + <p> + The Secretary of State sat down, crossed his knees and placed his hat in + his lap. The other two resumed their seats, O’Moy leaning forward, his + elbows on the writing-table, immediately facing Senhor Forjas. + </p> + <p> + “First, however,” he said, “to deal with this affair of Tavora. The + Council of Regency will, no doubt, have been informed of all the + circumstances. You will be aware, therefore, that this very deplorable + business was the result of a misapprehension, and that the nuns of Tavora + might very well have avoided all this trouble had they behaved in a + sensible, reasonable manner. If instead of shutting themselves up in the + chapel and ringing the alarm bell the Mother-Abbess or one of the sisters + had gone to the wicket and answered the demand of admittance from the + officer commanding the detachment, he would instantly have realised his + mistake and withdrawn.” + </p> + <p> + “What does your Excellency suggest was this mistake?” inquired the + Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “You have had your report, sir, and surely it was complete. You must know + that he conceived himself to be knocking at the gates of the monastery of + the Dominican fathers.” + </p> + <p> + “Can your Excellency tell me what was this officer’s business at the + monastery of the Dominican fathers?” quoth the Secretary, his manner + frostily hostile. + </p> + <p> + “I am without information on that point,” O’Moy admitted; “no doubt + because the officer in question is missing, as you will also have been + informed. But I have no reason to doubt that, whatever his business may + have been, it was concerned with the interests which are common alike to + the British and the Portuguese nation.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a charitable assumption, Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you will inform me, Dom Miguel, of the uncharitable assumption + which the Principal Souza prefers,” snapped O’Moy, whose temper began to + simmer. + </p> + <p> + A faint colour kindled in the cheeks of the Portuguese minister, but his + manner remained unruffled. + </p> + <p> + “I speak, sir, not with the voice of Principal Souza, but with that of the + entire Council of Regency; and the Council has formed the opinion, which + your own words confirm, that his Excellency Lord Wellington is skilled in + finding excuses for the misdemeanours of the troops under his command.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said O’Moy, who would never have kept his temper in control but + for the pleasant consciousness that he held a hand of trumps with which he + would presently overwhelm this representative of the Portuguese + Government, “that is an opinion for which the Council may presently like + to apologise, admitting its entire falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + Senhor Forjas started as if he had been stung. He uncrossed his black silk + legs and made as if to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Falsehood, sir?” he cried in a scandalised voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is as well that we should be plain, so as to be avoiding all + misconceptions,” said O’Moy. “You must know, sir, and your Council must + know, that wherever armies move there must be reason for complaint. The + British army does not claim in this respect to be superior to others—although + I don’t say, mark me, that it might not claim it with perfect justice. But + we do claim for ourselves that our laws against plunder and outrage are as + strict as they well can be, and that where these things take place + punishment inevitably follows. Out of your own knowledge, sir, you must + admit that what I say is true.” + </p> + <p> + “True, certainly, where the offenders are men from the ranks. But in this + case, where the offender is an officer, it does not transpire that justice + has been administered with the same impartial hand.” “That, sir,” answered + O’Moy sharply, testily, “is because he is missing.” + </p> + <p> + The Secretary’s thin lips permitted themselves to curve into the faintest + ghost of a smile. “Precisely,” he said. + </p> + <p> + For answer O’Moy, red in the face, thrust forward the dispatch he had + received relating to the affair. + </p> + <p> + “Read, sir—read for yourself, that you may report exactly to the + Council of Regency the terms of the report that has just reached me from + headquarters. You will be able to announce that diligent search is being + made for the offender.” + </p> + <p> + Forjas perused the document carefully, and returned it. + </p> + <p> + “That is very good,” he said, “and the Council will be glad to hear of it. + It will enable us to appease the popular resentment in some degree. But it + does not say here that when taken this officer will not be excused upon + the grounds which yourself you have urged to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not. But considering that he has since been guilty of desertion, + there can be no doubt—all else apart—that the finding of a + court martial will result in his being shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Forjas. “I will accept your assurance, and the Council + will be relieved to hear of it.” He rose to take his leave. “I am desired + by the Council to express to Lord Wellington the hope that he will take + measures to preserve better order among his troops and to avoid the + recurrence of such extremely painful incidents.” + </p> + <p> + “A moment,” said O’Moy, and rising waved his guest back into his chair, + then resumed his own seat. Under a more or less calm exterior he was a + seething cauldron of passion. “The matter is not quite at an end, as your + Excellency supposes. From your last observation, and from a variety of + other evidence, I infer that the Council is far from satisfied with Lord + Wellington’s conduct of the campaign.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an inference which I cannot venture to contradict. You will + understand, General, that I do not speak for myself, but for the Council, + when I say that many of his measures seem to us not merely unnecessary, + but detrimental. The power having been placed in the hands of Lord + Wellington, the Council hardly feels itself able to interfere with his + dispositions. But it nevertheless deplores the destruction of the mills + and the devastation of the country recommended and insisted upon by his + lordship. It feels that this is not warfare as the Council understands + warfare, and the people share the feelings of the Council. It is felt that + it would be worthier and more commendable if Lord Wellington were to + measure himself in battle with the French, making a definite attempt to + stem the tide of invasion on the frontiers.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said O’Moy, his hand clenching and unclenching, and Tremayne, + who watched him, wondered how long it would be before the storm burst. + “Quite so. And because the Council disapproves of the very measures which + at Lord Wellington’s instigation it has publicly recommended, it does not + trouble to see that those measures are carried out. As you say, it does + not feel itself able to interfere with his dispositions. But it does not + scruple to mark its disapproval by passively hindering him at every turn. + Magistrates are left to neglect these enactments, and because,” he added + with bitter sarcasm, “Portuguese valour is so red-hot and so devilish set + on battle the Militia Acts calling all men to the colours are forgotten as + soon as published. There is no one either to compel the recalcitrant to + take up arms, or to punish the desertions of those who have been driven + into taking them up. Yet you want battles, you want your frontiers + defended. A moment, sir! there is no need for heat, no need for any words. + The matter may be said to be at an end.” He smiled—a thought + viciously, be it confessed—and then played his trump card, hurled + his bombshell. “Since the views of your Council are in such utter + opposition to the views of the Commander-in-Chief, you will no doubt + welcome Lord Wellington’s proposal to withdraw from this country and to + advise his Majesty’s Government to withdraw the assistance which it is + affording you.” + </p> + <p> + There followed a long spell of silence, O’Moy sitting back in his chair, + his chin in his hand, to observe the result of his words. Nor was he in + the least disappointed. Dom Miguel’s mouth fell open; the colour slowly + ebbed from his cheeks, leaving them an ivory-yellow; his eyes dilated and + protruded. He was consternation incarnate. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he contrived to gasp at last, and his shaking hands clutched at + the carved arms of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ye don’t seem as pleased as I expected,” ventured O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “But, General, surely... surely his Excellency cannot mean to take so... + so terrible a step?” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible to whom, sir?” wondered O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “Terrible to us all.” Forjas rose in his agitation. He came to lean upon + O’Moy’s writing-table, facing the adjutant. “Surely, sir, our interests—England’s + interests and Portugal’s—are one in this.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. But England’s interests can be defended elsewhere than in + Portugal, and it is Lord Wellington’s view that they shall be. He has + already warned the Council of Regency that, since his Majesty and the + Prince Regent have entrusted him with the command of the British and + Portuguese armies, he will not suffer the Council or any of its members to + interfere with his conduct of the military operations, or suffer any + criticism or suggestion of theirs to alter system formed upon mature + consideration. But when, finding their criticisms fail, the members of the + Council, in their wrongheadedness, in their anxiety to allow private + interest to triumph over public duty, go the length of thwarting the + measures of which they do not approve, the end of Lord Wellington’s + patience has been reached. I am giving your Excellency his own words. He + feels that it is futile to remain in a country whose Government is + determined to undermine his every endeavour to bring this campaign to a + successful issue. + </p> + <p> + “Yourself, sir, you appear to be distressed. But the Council of Regency + will no doubt take a different view. It will rejoice in the departure of a + man whose military operations it finds so detestable. You will no doubt + discover this when you come to lay Lord Wellington’s decision before the + Council, as I now invite you to do.” + </p> + <p> + Bewildered and undecided, Forjas stood there for a moment, vainly seeking + words. Finally: + </p> + <p> + “Is this really Lord Wellington’s last word?” he asked in tones of + profoundest consternation. + </p> + <p> + “There is one alternative—one only,” said O’Moy slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And that?” Instantly Forjas was all eagerness. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy considered him. “Faith, I hesitate to state it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Please, please.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that it is idle.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the Council judge. I implore you, General, let the Council judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” O’Moy shrugged, and took up a sheet of the dispatch which lay + before him. “You will admit, sir, I think, that the beginning of these + troubles coincided with the advent of the Principal Souza upon the Council + of Regency.” He waited in vain for a reply. Forjas, the diplomat, + preserved an uncompromising silence, in which presently O’Moy proceeded: + “From this, and from other evidence, of which indeed there is no lack, + Lord Wellington has come to the conclusion that all the resistance, + passive and active, which he has encountered, results from the Principal + Souza’s influence upon the Council. You will not, I think, trouble to deny + it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Forjas spread his hands. “You will remember, General,” he answered, in + tones of conciliatory regret, “that the Principal Souza represents a class + upon whom Lord Wellington’s measures bear in a manner peculiarly hard.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he represents the Portuguese nobility and landed gentry, + who, putting their own interests above those of the State, have determined + to oppose and resist the devastation of the country which Lord Wellington + recommends.” + </p> + <p> + “You put it very bluntly,” Forjas admitted. + </p> + <p> + “You will find Lord Wellington’s own words even more blunt,” said O’Moy, + with a grim smile, and turned to the dispatch he held. “Let me read you + exactly what he writes: + </p> + <p> + “‘As for Principal Souza, I beg you to tell him from me that as I have had + no satisfaction in transacting the business of this country since he has + become a member of the Government, no power on earth shall induce me to + remain in the Peninsula if he is either to remain a member of the + Government or to continue in Lisbon. Either he must quit the country, or I + will do so, and this immediately after I have obtained his Majesty’s + permission to resign my charge.’” + </p> + <p> + The adjutant put down the letter and looked expectantly at the Secretary + of State, who returned the look with one of utter dismay. Never in all his + career had the diplomat been so completely dumbfounded as he was now by + the simple directness of the man of action. In himself Dom Miguel Forjas + was both shrewd and honest. He was shrewd enough to apprehend to the full + the military genius of the British Commander-in-Chief, fruits of which he + had already witnessed. He knew that the withdrawal of Junot’s army from + Lisbon two years ago resulted mainly from the operations of Sir Arthur + Wellesley—as he was then—before his supersession in the + supreme command of that first expedition, and he more than suspected that + but for that supersession the defeat of the first French army of invasion + might have been even more signal. He had witnessed the masterly campaign + of 1809, the battle of the Douro and the relentless operations which had + culminated in hurling the shattered fragments of Soult’s magnificent army + over the Portuguese frontier, thus liberating that country for the second + time from the thrall of the mighty French invader. And he knew that unless + this man and the troops under his command remained in Portugal and enjoyed + complete liberty of action there could be no hope of stemming the third + invasion for which Massena—the ablest of all the Emperor’s marshals + was now gathering his divisions in the north. If Wellington were to + execute his threat and withdraw with his army, Forjas beheld nothing but + ruin for his country. The irresistible French would sweep forward in + devastating conquest, and Portuguese independence would be ground to dust + under the heel of the terrible Emperor. + </p> + <p> + All this the clear-sighted Dom Miguel Forjas now perceived. To do him full + justice, he had feared for some time that the unreasonable conduct of his + Government might ultimately bring about some such desperate situation. But + it was not for him to voice those fears. He was the servant of that + Government, the “mere instrument and mouthpiece of the Council of Regency. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he said at length in a voice that was awed, “is an ultimatum.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that,” O’Moy admitted readily. + </p> + <p> + Forjas sighed, shook his dark head and drew himself up like a man who has + chosen his part. Being shrewd, he saw the immediate necessity of choosing, + and, being honest, he chose honestly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is as well,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That Lord Wellington should go?” cried O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “That Lord Wellington should announce intentions of going,” Forjas + explained. And having admitted so much, he now stripped off the official + mask completely. He spoke with his own voice and not with that of the + Council whose mouthpiece he was. “Of course it will never be permitted. + Lord Wellington has been entrusted with the defence of the country by the + Prince Regent; consequently it is the duty of every Portuguese to ensure + that at all costs he shall continue in that office.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy was mystified. Only a knowledge of the minister’s inmost thoughts + could have explained this oddly sudden change of manner. + </p> + <p> + “But your Excellency understands the terms—the only terms upon which + his lordship will so continue?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. I shall hasten to convey those terms to the Council. It is + also quite clear—is it not?—that I may convey to my Government + and indeed publish your complete assurance that the officer responsible + for the raid on the convent at Tavora will be shot when taken?” + </p> + <p> + Looking intently into O’Moy’s face, Dom Miguel saw the clear blue eyes + flicker under his gaze, he beheld a grey shadow slowly overspreading the + adjutant’s ruddy cheek. Knowing nothing of the relationship between O’Moy + and the offender, unable to guess the sources of the hesitation of which + he now beheld such unmistakable signs, the minister naturally + misunderstood it. + </p> + <p> + “There must be no flinching in this, General,” he cried. “Let me speak to + you for a moment quite frankly and in confidence, not as the Secretary of + State of the Council of Regency, but as a Portuguese patriot who places + his country and his country’s welfare above every other consideration. You + have issued your ultimatum. It may be harsh, it may be arbitrary; with + that I have no concern. The interests, the feelings of Principal Souza or + of any other individual, however high-placed, are without weight when the + interests of the nation hang against them in the balance. Better that an + injustice be done to one man than that the whole country should suffer. + Therefore I do not argue with you upon the rights and wrongs of Lord + Wellington’s ultimatum. That is a matter apart. Lord Wellington demands + the removal of Principal Souza from the Government, or, in the + alternative, proposes himself to withdraw from Portugal. In the national + interest the Government can come to only one decision. I am frank with + you, General. Myself I shall stand ranged on the side of the national + interest, and what my influence in the Council can do it shall do. But if + you know Principal Souza at all, you must know that he will not relinquish + his position without a fight. He has friends and influence—the + Patriarch of Lisbon and many of the nobility will be on his side. I warn + you solemnly against leaving any weapon in his hands.” + </p> + <p> + He paused impressively. But O’Moy, grey-faced now and haggard, waited in + silence for him to continue. + </p> + <p> + “From the message I brought you,” Forjas resumed, “you will have perceived + how Principal Souza has fastened upon this business at Tavora to support + his general censure of Lord Wellington’s conduct of the campaign. That is + the weapon to which my warning refers. You must—if we who place the + national interest supreme are to prevail—you must disarm him by the + assurance that I ask for. You will perceive that I am disloyal to a member + of my Council so that I may be loyal to my country. But I repeat, I speak + to you in confidence. This officer has committed a gross outrage, which + must bring the British army into odium with the people, unless we have + your assurance that the British army is the first to censure and to punish + the offender with the utmost rigour. Give me now, that I may publish + everywhere, your official assurance that this man will be shot, and on my + side I assure you that Principal Souza, thus deprived of his stoutest + weapon, must succumb in the struggle that awaits us.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said O’Moy slowly, his head bowed, his voice dull and even + unsteady, “I hope that I am not behind you in placing public duty above + private consideration. You may publish my official assurance that the + officer in question will be... shot when taken.” + </p> + <p> + “General, I thank you. My country thanks you. You may be confident of this + issue.” He bowed gravely to O’Moy and then to Tremayne. “Your + Excellencies, I have the honour to wish you good-day.” He was shown out by + the orderly who had admitted him, and he departed well satisfied in his + patriotic heart that the crisis which he had always known to be inevitable + should have been reached at last. Yet, as he went, he wondered why the + Adjutant-General had looked so downcast, why his voice had broken when he + pledged his word that justice should be done upon the offending British + officer. That, however, was no concern of Dom Miguel’s, and there was more + than enough to engage his thoughts when he came to consider the ultimatum + to his Government with which he was charged. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. LADY O’MOY + </h2> + <p> + Across the frontier in the northwest was gathering the third army of + invasion, some sixty thousand strong, commanded by Marshal Massena, Prince + of Esslingen, the most skilful and fortunate of all Napoleon’s generals, a + leader who, because he had never known defeat, had come to be surnamed by + his Emperor “the dear child of Victory.” + </p> + <p> + Wellington, at the head of a British force of little more than one third + of the French host, watched and waited, maturing his stupendous strategic + plan, which those in whose interests it had been conceived had done so + much to thwart. That plan was inspired by and based upon the Emperor’s + maxim that war should support itself; that an army on the march must not + be hampered and immobilised by its commissariat, but that it must draw its + supplies from the country it is invading; that it must, in short, live + upon that country. + </p> + <p> + Behind the British army and immediately to the north of Lisbon, in an arc + some thirty miles long, following the inflection of the hills from the sea + at the mouth of the Zizandre to the broad waters of the Tagus at Alhandra, + the lines of Torres Vedras were being constructed under the direction of + Colonel Fletcher and this so secretly and with such careful measures as to + remain unknown to British and Portuguese alike. Even those employed upon + the works knew of nothing save the section upon which they happened to be + engaged, and had no conception of the stupendous and impregnable whole + that was preparing. + </p> + <p> + To these lines it was the British commander’s plan to effect a slow + retreat before the French flood when it should sweep forward, thus luring + the enemy onward into a country which he had commanded should be laid + relentlessly waste, that there that enemy might fast be starved and + afterwards destroyed. To this end had his proclamations gone forth, + commanding that all the land lying between the rivers Tagus and Mondego, + in short, the whole of the country between Beira and Torres Vedras, should + be stripped naked, converted into a desert as stark and empty as the + Sahara. Not a head of cattle, not a grain of corn, not a skin of wine, not + a flask of oil, not a crumb of anything affording nourishment should be + left behind. The very mills were to be rendered useless, bridges were to + be broken down, the houses emptied of all property, which the refugees + were to carry away with them from the line of invasion. + </p> + <p> + Such was his terrible demand upon the country for its own salvation. But + such, as we have seen, was not war as Principal Souza and some of his + adherents understood it. They had not the foresight to perceive the + inevitable result of this strategic plan if effectively and thoroughly + executed. They did not even realise that the devastation had better be + effected by the British in this defensive—and in its results at the + same time overwhelmingly offensive—manner than by the French in the + course of a conquering onslaught. They did not realise these things partly + because they did not enjoy Wellington’s full confidence, and in a greater + measure because they were blinded by self-interest, because, as O’Moy told + Forjas, they placed private considerations above public duty. The northern + nobles whose lands must suffer opposed the measure violently; they even + opposed the withdrawal of labour from those lands which the Militia Act + had rendered necessary. And Antonio de Souza made himself their champion + until he was broken by Wellington’s ultimatum to the Council. For broken + he was. The nation had come to a parting of the ways. It had been brought + to the necessity of choosing, and however much the Principal, voicing the + outcry of his party, might argue that the British plan was as detestable + and ruinous as a French invasion, the nation preferred to place its + confidence in the conqueror of Vimeiro and the Douro. + </p> + <p> + Souza quitted the Government and the capital as had been demanded. But if + Wellington hoped that he would quit intriguing, he misjudged his man. He + was a fellow of monstrous vanity, pride and self-sufficiency, of the sort + than which there is none more dangerous to offend. His wounded pride + demanded a salve to be procured at any cost. The wound had been + administered by Wellington, and must be returned with interest. So that he + ruined Wellington it mattered nothing to Antonio de Souza that he should + ruin himself and his own country at the same time. He was like some + blinded, ferocious and unreasoning beast, ready, even eager, to sacrifice + its own life so that in dying it can destroy its enemy and slake its + blood-thirst. + </p> + <p> + In that mood he passes out of the councils of the Portuguese Government + into a brooding and secretly active retirement, of which the fruits shall + presently be shown. With his departure the Council of Regency, rudely + shaken by the ultimatum which had driven him forth, became more docile and + active, and for a season the measures enjoined by the Commander-in-Chief + were pursued with some show of earnestness. + </p> + <p> + As a result of all this life at Monsanto became easier, and O’Moy was able + to breathe more freely, and to devote more of his time to matters + concerning the fortifications which Wellington had left largely in his + charge. Then, too, as the weeks passed, the shadow overhanging him with + regard to Richard Butler gradually lifted. No further word had there been + of the missing lieutenant, and by the end of May both O’Moy and Tremayne + had come to the conclusion that he must have fallen into the hands of some + of the ferocious mountaineers to whom a soldier—whether his uniform + were British or French—was a thing to be done to death. + </p> + <p> + For his wife’s sake O’Moy came thankfully to that conclusion. Under the + circumstances it was the best possible termination to the episode. She + must be told of her brother’s death presently, when evidence of it was + forthcoming; she would mourn him passionately, no doubt, for her + attachment to him was deep—extraordinarily deep for so shallow a + woman—but at least she would be spared the pain and shame she must + inevitably have felt had he been taken and, shot. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, however, the lack of news from him, in another sense, would + have to be explained to Una sooner or later for a fitful correspondence + was maintained between brother and sister—and O’Moy dreaded the + moment when this explanation must be made. Lacking invention, he applied + to Tremayne for assistance, and Tremayne glumly supplied him with the + necessary lie that should meet Lady O’Moy’s inquiries when they came. + </p> + <p> + In the end, however, he was spared the necessity of falsehood. For the + truth itself reached Lady O’Moy in an unexpected manner. It came about a + month after that day when O’Moy had first received news of the escapade at + Tavora. It was a resplendent morning of early June, and the adjutant was + detained a few moments from breakfast by the arrival of a mail-bag from + headquarters, now established at Vizeu. Leaving Captain Tremayne to deal + with it, Sir Terence went down to breakfast, bearing with him only a few + letters of a personal character which had reached him from friends on the + frontier. + </p> + <p> + The architecture of the house at Monsanto was of a semiclaustral + character; three sides of it enclosed a sheltered luxuriant garden, whilst + on the fourth side a connecting corridor, completing the quadrangle, + spanned bridgewise the spacious archway through which admittance was + gained directly from the parklands that sloped gently to Alcantara. This + archway, closed at night by enormous wooden doors, opened wide during the + day upon a grassy terrace bounded by a baluster of white marble that + gleamed now in the brilliant sunshine. It was O’Moy’s practice to + breakfast out-of-doors in that genial climate, and during April, before + the sun had reached its present intensity, the table had been spread out + there upon the terrace. Now, however, it was wiser, even in the early + morning, to seek the shade, and breakfast was served within the + quadrangle, under a trellis of vine supported in the Portuguese manner by + rough-hewn granite columns. It was a delicious spot, cool and fragrant, + secluded without being enclosed, since through the broad archway it + commanded a view of the Tagus and the hills of Alemtejo. + </p> + <p> + Here O’Moy found himself impatiently awaited that morning by his wife and + her cousin, Sylvia Armytage, more recently arrived from England. + </p> + <p> + “You are very late,” Lady O’Moy greeted him petulantly. Since she spent + her life in keeping other people waiting, it naturally fretted her to + discover unpunctuality in others. + </p> + <p> + Her portrait, by Raeburn, which now adorns the National Gallery, had been + painted in the previous year. You will have seen it, or at least you will + have seen one of its numerous replicas, and you will have remarked its + singular, delicate, rose-petal loveliness—the gleaming golden head, + the flawless outline of face and feature, the immaculate skin, the dark + blue eyes with their look of innocence awakening. + </p> + <p> + Thus was she now in her artfully simple gown of flowered muslin with its + white fichu folded across her neck that was but a shade less white; thus + was she, just as Raeburn had painted her, saving, of course, that her + expression, matching her words, was petulant. + </p> + <p> + “I was detained by the arrival of a mail-bag from Vizeu,” Sir Terence + excused himself, as he took the chair which Mullins, the elderly, + pontifical butler, drew out for him. “Ned is attending to it, and will be + kept for a few moments yet.” + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy’s expression quickened. “Are there no letters for me?” + </p> + <p> + “None, my dear, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “No word from Dick?” Again there was that note of ever ready petulance. + “It is too provoking. He should know that he must make me anxious by his + silence. Dick is so thoughtless—so careless of other people’s + feelings. I shall write to him severely.” + </p> + <p> + The adjutant paused in the act of unfolding his napkin. The prepared + explanation trembled on his lips; but its falsehood, repellent to him, was + not uttered. + </p> + <p> + “I should certainly do so, my dear,” was all he said, and addressed + himself to his breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “What news from headquarters?” Miss Armytage asked him. “Are things going + well?” + </p> + <p> + “Much better now that Principal Souza’s influence is at an end. Cotton + reports that the destruction of the mills in the Mondego valley is being + carried out systematically.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage’s dark, thoughtful eyes became wistful. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Terence,” she said, “that I am not without some sympathy for + the Portuguese resistance to Lord Wellington’s decrees. They must bear so + terribly hard upon the people. To be compelled with their own hands to + destroy their homes and lay waste the lands upon which they have laboured—what + could be more cruel?” + </p> + <p> + “War can never be anything but cruel,” he answered gravely. “God help the + people over whose lands it sweeps. Devastation is often the least of the + horrors marching in its train.” + </p> + <p> + “Why must war be?” she asked him, in intelligent rebellion against that + most monstrous and infamous of all human madnesses. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy proceeded to do his best to explain the unexplainable, and since, + himself a professional soldier, he could not take the sane view of his + sane young questioner, hot argument ensued between them, to the infinite + weariness of Lady O’Moy, who out of self-protection gave herself to the + study of the latest fashion plates from London and the consideration of a + gown for the ball which the Count of Redondo was giving in the following + week. + </p> + <p> + It was thus in all things, for these cousins represented the two poles of + womanhood. Miss Armytage without any of Lady O’Moy’s insistent and + excessive femininity, was nevertheless feminine to the core. But hers was + the Diana type of womanliness. She was tall and of a clean-limbed, supple + grace, now emphasised by the riding-habit which she was wearing—for + she had been in the saddle during the hour which Lady O’Moy had + consecrated to the rites of toilet and devotions done before her mirror. + Dark-haired, dark-eyed, vivacity and intelligence lent her countenance an + attraction very different from the allurement of her cousin’s delicate + loveliness. And because her countenance was a true mirror of her mind, she + argued shrewdly now, so shrewdly that she drove O’Moy to entrench himself + behind generalisations. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sylvia, war is most merciful where it is most merciless,” he + assured her with the Irish gift for paradox. “At home in the Government + itself there are plenty who argue as you argue, and who are wondering when + we shall embark for England. That is because they are intellectuals, and + war is a thing beyond the understanding of intellectuals. It is not + intellect but brute instinct and brute force that will help humanity in + such a crisis as the present. Therefore, let me tell you, my child, that a + government of intellectual men is the worst possible government for a + nation engaged in a war.” + </p> + <p> + This was far from satisfying Miss Armytage. Lord Wellington himself was an + intellectual, she objected. Nobody could deny it. There was the work he + had done as Irish Secretary, and there was the calculating genius he had + displayed at Vimeiro, at Oporto, at Talavera. + </p> + <p> + And then, observing her husband to be in distress, Lady O’Moy put down her + fashion plate and brought up her heavy artillery to relieve him. + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia, dear,” she interpolated, “I wonder that you will for ever be + arguing about things you don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage laughed good-humouredly. She was not easily put out of + countenance. “What woman doesn’t?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t, and I am a woman, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but an exceptional woman,” her cousin rallied her affectionately, + tapping the shapely white arm that protruded from a foam of lace. And Lady + O’Moy, to whom words never had any but a literal meaning, set herself to + purr precisely as one would have expected. Complacently she discoursed + upon the perfection of her own endowments, appealing ever and anon to her + husband for confirmation, and O’Moy, who loved her with all the passionate + reverence which Nature working inscrutably to her ends so often inspires + in just such strong, essentially masculine men for just such fragile and + excessively feminine women, afforded this confirmation with all the + enthusiasm of sincere conviction. + </p> + <p> + Thus until Mullins broke in upon them with the announcement of a visit + from Count Samoval, an announcement more welcome to Lady O’Moy than to + either of her companions. + </p> + <p> + The Portuguese nobleman was introduced. He had attained to a degree of + familiarity in the adjutant’s household that permitted of his being + received without ceremony there at that breakfast-table spread in the + open. He was a slender, handsome, swarthy man of thirty, scrupulously + dressed, as graceful and elegant in his movements as a fencing master, + which indeed he might have been; for his skill with the foils was a matter + of pride to himself and notoriety to all the world. Nor was it by any + means the only skill he might have boasted, for Jeronymo de Samoval was in + many things, a very subtle, supple gentleman. His friendship with the + O’Moys, now some three months old, had been considerably strengthened of + late by the fact that he had unexpectedly become one of the most hostile + critics of the Council of Regency as lately constituted, and one of the + most ardent supporters of the Wellingtonian policy. + </p> + <p> + He bowed with supremest grace to the ladies, ventured to kiss the fair, + smooth hand of his hostess, undeterred by the frosty stare of O’Moy’s blue + eyes whose approval of all men was in inverse proportion to their approval + of his wife—and finally proffered her the armful of early roses that + he brought. + </p> + <p> + “These poor roses of Portugal to their sister from England,” said his + softly caressing tenor voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re a poet,” said O’Moy tartly. + </p> + <p> + “Having found Castalia here,” said, the Count, “shall I not drink its + limpid waters?” + </p> + <p> + “Not, I hope, while there’s an agreeable vintage of Port on the table. A + morning whet, Samoval?” O’Moy invited him, taking up the decanter. + </p> + <p> + “Two fingers, then—no more. It is not my custom in the morning. But + here—to drink your lady’s health, and yours, Miss Armytage.” With a + graceful flourish of his glass he pledged them both and sipped delicately, + then took the chair that O’Moy was proffering. + </p> + <p> + “Good news, I hear, General. Antonio de Souza’s removal from the + Government is already bearing fruit. The mills in the valley of the + Mondego are being effectively destroyed at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re very well informed,” grunted O’Moy, who himself had but received + the news. “As well informed, indeed, as I am myself.” There was a note + almost of suspicion in the words, and he was vexed that matters which it + was desirable be kept screened as much as possible from general knowledge + should so soon be put abroad. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, and with reason,” was the answer, delivered with a rueful + smile. “Am I not interested? Is not some of my property in question?” + Samoval sighed. “But I bow to the necessities of war. At least it cannot + be said of me, as was said of those whose interests Souza represented, + that I put private considerations above public duty—that is the + phrase, I think. The individual must suffer that the nation may triumph. A + Roman maxim, my dear General.” + </p> + <p> + “And a British one,” said O’Moy, to whom Britain was a second Rome. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, admitted,” replied the amiable Samoval. “You proved it by your + uncompromising firmness in the affair of Tavora.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” inquired Miss Armytage. + </p> + <p> + “Have you not heard?” cried Samoval in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” snapped O’Moy, who had broken into a cold perspiration. + “Hardly a subject for the ladies, Count.” + </p> + <p> + Rebuked for his intention, Samoval submitted instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; perhaps not,” he agreed, as if dismissing it, whereupon + O’Moy recovered from his momentary breathlessness. “But in your own + interests, my dear General, I trust there will be no weakening when this + Lieutenant Butler is caught, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + Sharp and stridently came that single word from her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Desperately O’Moy sought to defend the breach. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to do with Dick, my dear. A fellow named Philip Butler, who—” + </p> + <p> + But the too-well-informed Samoval corrected him. “Not Philip, General—Richard + Butler. I had the name but yesterday from Forjas.” + </p> + <p> + In the scared hush that followed the Count perceived that he had stumbled + headlong into a mystery. He saw Lady O’Moy’s face turn whiter and whiter, + saw her sapphire eyes dilating as they regarded him. + </p> + <p> + “Richard Butler!” she echoed. “What of Richard Butler? Tell me. Tell me at + once.” + </p> + <p> + Hesitating before such signs of distress, Samoval looked at O’Moy, to meet + a dejected scowl. + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy turned to her husband. “What is it?” she demanded. “You know + something about Dick and you are keeping it from me. Dick is in trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” O’Moy admitted. “In great trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he done? You spoke of an affair at Evora or Tavora, which is not + to be mentioned before ladies. I demand to know.” Her affection and + anxiety for her brother invested her for a moment with a certain dignity, + lent her a force that was but rarely displayed by her. + </p> + <p> + Seeing the men stricken speechless, Samoval from bewildered astonishment, + O’Moy from distress, she jumped to the conclusion, after what had been + said, that motives of modesty accounted for their silence. + </p> + <p> + “Leave us, Sylvia, please,” she said. “Forgive me, dear. But you see they + will not mention these things while you are present.” She made a piteous + little figure as she stood trembling there, her fingers tearing in + agitation at one of Samoval’s roses. + </p> + <p> + She waited until the obedient and discreet Miss Armytage had passed from + view into the wing that contained the adjutant’s private quarters, then + sinking limp and nerveless to her chair: + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she bade them, “please tell me.” + </p> + <p> + And O’Moy, with a sigh of regret for the lie so laboriously concocted + which would never now be uttered, delivered himself huskily of the hideous + truth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. COUNT SAMOVAL + </h2> + <p> + Miss Armytage’s own notions of what might be fit and proper for her + virginal ears were by no means coincident with Lady O’Moy’s. Thus, + although you have seen her pass into the private quarters of the + adjutant’s establishment, and although, in fact, she did withdraw to her + own room, she found it impossible to abide there a prey to doubt and + misgivings as to what Dick Butler might have done—doubt and + misgivings, be it understood, entertained purely on Una’s account and not + at all on Dick’s. + </p> + <p> + By the corridor spanning the archway on the southern side of the + quadrangle, and serving as a connecting bridge between the adjutant’s + private and official quarters, Miss Armytage took her way to Sir Terence’s + work-room, knowing that she would find Captain Tremayne there, and + assuming that he would be alone. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” she asked him from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet. “Why, certainly, Miss Armytage.” For so + imperturbable a young man he seemed oddly breathless in his eagerness to + welcome her. “Are you looking for O’Moy? He left me nearly half-an-hour + ago to go to breakfast, and I was just about to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely dare detain you, then.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary. I mean... not at all. But... were you wanting me?” + </p> + <p> + She closed the door, and came forward into the room, moving with that + supple grace peculiarly her own. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to tell me something, Captain Tremayne, and I want you to be + frank with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I could never be anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to treat me as you would treat a man, a friend of your own + sex.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne sighed. He had recovered from the surprise of her coming and was + again his imperturbable self. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you that is the last way in which I desire to treat you. But if + you insist—” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” She had frowned slightly at the earlier part of his speech, with + its subtle, half-jesting gallantry, and she spoke sharply now. + </p> + <p> + “I bow to your will,” said Captain Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “What has Dick Butler been doing?” + </p> + <p> + He looked into her face with sharply questioning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What was it that happened at Tavora?” + </p> + <p> + He continued to look at her. “What have you heard?” he asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “Only that he has done something at Tavora for which the consequences, I + gather, may be grave. I am anxious for Una’s sake to know what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Una know?” + </p> + <p> + “She is being told now. Count Samoval let slip just what I have outlined. + And she has insisted upon being told everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not remain to hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they sent me away on the plea that—oh, on the silly plea of + my youth and innocence, which were not to be offended.” + </p> + <p> + “But which you expect me to offend?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Because I can trust you to tell me without offending.” + </p> + <p> + “Sylvia!” It was a curious exclamation of satisfaction and of gratitude + for the implied confidence. We must admit that it betrayed a selfish + forgetfulness of Dick Butler and his troubles, but it is by no means clear + that it was upon such grounds that it offended her. + </p> + <p> + She stiffened perceptibly. “Really, Captain Tremayne!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said he. “But you seemed to imply—” He checked, + at a loss. + </p> + <p> + Her colour rose. “Well, sir? What do you suggest that I implied or seemed + to imply?” But as suddenly her manner changed. “I think we are too + concerned with trifles where the matter on which I have sought you is a + serious one.” + </p> + <p> + “It is of the utmost seriousness,” he admitted gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you tell me what it is?” + </p> + <p> + He told her quite simply the whole story, not forgetting to give + prominence to the circumstances extenuating it in Butler’s favour. She + listened with a deepening frown, rather pale, her head bowed. + </p> + <p> + “And when he is taken,” she asked, “what—what will happen to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope that he will not be taken.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he is—if he is?” she insisted almost impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne turned aside and looked out of the window. “I should + welcome the news that he is dead,” he said softly. “For if he is taken he + will find no mercy at the hands of his own people.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he will be shot?” Horror charged her voice, dilated her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Inevitably.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through her, and she covered her face with her hands. When + she withdrew then Tremayne beheld the lovely countenance transformed. It + was white and drawn. + </p> + <p> + “But surely Terence can save him!” she cried piteously. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, his lips tight pressed. “‘There is no man less able to + do so.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, hesitating for a moment, then answered her: “‘O’Moy has + pledged his word to the Portuguese Government that Dick Butler shall be + shot when taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence did that?” + </p> + <p> + “He was compelled to it. Honour and duty demanded no less of him. I alone, + who was present and witnessed the undertaking, know what it cost him and + what he suffered. But he was forced to sink all private considerations. It + was a sacrifice rendered necessary, inevitable for the success of this + campaign.” And he proceeded to explain to her all the circumstances that + were interwoven with Lieutenant Butler’s ill-timed offence. “Thus you see + that from Terence you can hope for nothing. His honour will not admit of + his wavering in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Honour?” She uttered the word almost with contempt. “And what of Una?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of Una when I said I should welcome the news of Dick’s + death somewhere in the hills. It is the best that can be hoped for.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were Dick’s friend, Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, so I have been; so I am. Perhaps that is another reason why I should + hope that he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it no reason why you should do what you can to save him?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily for an instant, calm under the reproach of her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Miss Armytage, if I saw a way to save him, to do anything to + help him, I should seize it, both for the sake of my friendship for + himself and because of my affection for Una. Since you yourself are + interested in him, that is an added reason for me. But it is one thing to + admit willingness to help and another thing actually to afford help. What + is there that I can do? I assure you that I have thought of the matter. + Indeed for days I have thought of little else. But I can see no light. I + await events. Perhaps a chance may come.” + </p> + <p> + Her expression had softened. “I see.” She put out a hand generously to ask + forgiveness. “I was presumptuous, and I had no right to speak as I did.” + </p> + <p> + He took the hand. “I should never question your right to speak to me in + any way that seemed good to you,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + “I had better go to Una. She will be needing me, poor child. I am grateful + to you, Captain Tremayne, for your confidence and for telling me.” And + thus she left him very thoughtful, as concerned for Una as she was + herself. + </p> + <p> + Now Una O’Moy was the natural product of such treatment. There had ever + been something so appealing in her lovely helplessness and fragility that + all her life others had been concerned to shelter her from every wind that + blew. Because it was so she was what she was; and because she was what she + was it would continue to be so. + </p> + <p> + But Lady O’Moy at the moment did not stand in such urgent need of Miss + Armytage as Miss Armytage imagined. She had heard the appalling story of + her brother’s escapade, but she had been unable to perceive in what it was + so terrible as it was declared. He had made a mistake. He had invaded the + convent under a misapprehension, for which it was ridiculous to blame him. + It was a mistake which any man might have made in a foreign country. Lives + had been lost, it is true; but that was owing to the stupidity of other + people—of the nuns who had run for shelter when no danger threatened + save in their own silly imaginations, and of the peasants who had come + blundering to their assistance where no assistance was required; the + latter were the people responsible for the bloodshed, since they had + attacked the dragoons. Could it be expected of the dragoons that they + should tamely suffer themselves to be massacred? + </p> + <p> + Thus Lady O’Moy upon the affair of Tavora. The whole thing appeared to her + to be rather silly, and she refused seriously to consider that it could + have any grave consequences for Dick. His continued absence made her + anxious. But if he should come to be taken, surely his punishment would be + merely a formal matter; at the worst he might be sent home, which would be + a very good thing, for after all the climate of the Peninsula had never + quite suited him. + </p> + <p> + In this fashion she nimbly pursued a train of vitiated logic, passing from + inconsequence to inconsequence. And O’Moy, thankful that she should take + such a view as this—mercifully hopeful that the last had been heard + of his peccant and vexatious brother-in-law—content, more than + content, to leave her comforted such illusions. + </p> + <p> + And then, while she was still discussing the matter in terms of + comparative calm, came an orderly to summon him away, so that he left her + in the company of Samoval. + </p> + <p> + The Count had been deeply shocked by the discovery that Dick Butler was + Lady O’Moy’s brother, and a little confused that he himself in his + ignorance should have been the means of bringing to her knowledge a + painful matter that touched her so closely and that hitherto had been so + carefully concealed from her by her husband. He was thankful that she + should take so optimistic a view, and quick to perceive O’Moy’s charitable + desire to leave her optimism undispelled. But he was no less quick to + perceive the opportunities which the circumstances afforded him to further + a certain deep intrigue upon which he was engaged. + </p> + <p> + Therefore he did not take his leave just yet. He sauntered with Lady O’Moy + on the terrace above the wooded slopes that screened the village of + Alcantara, and there discovered her mind to be even more frivolous and + unstable than his perspicuity had hitherto suspected. Under stress Lady + O’Moy could convey the sense that she felt deeply. She could be almost + theatrical in her displays of emotion. But these were as transient as they + were intense. Nothing that was not immediately present to her senses was + ever capable of a deep impression upon her spirit, and she had the + facility characteristic of the self-loving and self-indulgent of putting + aside any matter that was unpleasant. Thus, easily self-persuaded, as we + have seen, that this escapade of Richard’s was not to be regarded too + seriously, and that its consequences were not likely to be grave, she + chattered with gay inconsequence of other things—of the dinner-party + last week at the house of the Marquis of Minas, that prominent member of + the council of Regency, of the forthcoming ball to be given by the Count + of Redondo, of the latest news from home, the latest fashion and the + latest scandal, the amours of the Duke of York and the shortcomings of Mr. + Perceval. + </p> + <p> + Samoval, however, did not intend that the matter of her brother should be + so entirely forgotten, so lightly treated. Deliberately at last he revived + it. + </p> + <p> + Considering her as she leant upon the granite balustrade, her pink + sunshade aslant over her shoulder, her flimsy lace shawl festooned from + the crook of either arm and floating behind her, a wisp of cloudy vapour, + Samoval permitted himself a sigh. + </p> + <p> + She flashed him a sidelong glance, arch and rallying. + </p> + <p> + “You are melancholy, sir—a poor compliment,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + But do not misunderstand her. Hers was an almost childish coquetry, + inevitable fruit of her intense femininity, craving ever the worship of + the sterner sex and the incense of its flattery. And Samoval, after all, + young, noble, handsome, with a half-sinister reputation, was something of + a figure of romance, as a good many women had discovered to their cost. + </p> + <p> + He fingered his snowy stock, and bent upon her eyes of glowing adoration. + “Dear Lady O’Moy,” his tenor voice was soft and soothing as a caress, “I + sigh to think that one so adorable, so entirely made for life’s sunshine + and gladness, should have cause for a moment’s uneasiness, perhaps for + secret grief, at the thought of the peril of her brother.” + </p> + <p> + Her glance clouded under this reminder. Then she pouted and made a little + gesture of impatience. “Dick is not in peril,” she answered. “He is + foolish to remain so long in hiding, and of course he will have to face + unpleasantness when he is found. But to say that he is in peril is... just + nonsense. Terence said nothing of peril. He agreed with me that Dick will + probably be sent home. Surely you don’t think—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” He looked down, studying his hessians for a moment, then his + dark eyes returned to meet her own. “I shall see to it that he is in no + danger. You may depend upon me, who ask but the happy chance to serve you. + Should there be any trouble, let me know at once, and I will see to it + that all is well. Your brother must not suffer, since he is your brother. + He is very blessed and enviable in that.” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him, her brows knitting. “But I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not plain? Whatever happens, you must not suffer, Lady O’Moy. No + man of feeling, and I least of any, could endure it. And since if your + brother were to suffer that must bring suffering to you, you may count + upon me to shield him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, Count. But shield him from what?” + </p> + <p> + “From whatever may threaten. The Portuguese Government may demand in + self-protection, to appease the clamour of the people stupidly outraged by + this affair, that an example shall be made of the offender.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but how could they? With what reason?” She displayed a vague alarm, + and a less vague impatience of such hypotheses. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged. “The people are like that—a fierce, vengeful god to + whom appeasing sacrifices must be offered from time to time. If the people + demand a scapegoat, governments usually provide one. But be comforted.” In + his eagerness of reassurance he caught her delicate mittened hand in his + own, and her anxiety rendering her heedless, she allowed it to lie there + gently imprisoned. “Be comforted. I shall be here to guard him. There is + much that I can do and you may depend upon me to do it—for your + sake, dear lady. The Government will listen to me. I would not have you + imagine me capable of boasting. I have influence with the Government, that + is all; and I give you my word that so far as the Portuguese Government is + concerned your brother shall take no harm.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a long moment with moist eyes, moved and flattered + by his earnestness and intensity of homage. “I take this very kindly in + you, sir. I have no thanks that are worthy,” she said, her voice trembling + a little. “I have no means of repaying you. You have made me very happy, + Count.” + </p> + <p> + He bent low over the frail hand he was holding. + </p> + <p> + “Your assurance that I have made you happy repays me very fully, since + your happiness is my tenderest concern. Believe me, dear lady, you may + ever count Jeronymo de Samoval your most devoted and obedient slave.” + </p> + <p> + He bore the hand to his lips and held it to them for a long moment, whilst + with heightened colour and eyes that sparkled, more, be it confessed, from + excitement than from gratitude, she stood passively considering his bowed + dark head. + </p> + <p> + As he came erect again a movement under the archway caught his eye, and + turning he found himself confronting Sir Terence and Miss Armytage, who + were approaching. If it vexed him to have been caught by a husband + notoriously jealous in an attitude not altogether uncompromising, Samoval + betrayed no sign of it. + </p> + <p> + With smooth self-possession he hailed O’Moy: + </p> + <p> + “General, you come in time to enable me to take my leave of you. I was on + the point of going.” + </p> + <p> + “So I perceived,” said O’Moy tartly. He had almost said: “So I had hoped.” + </p> + <p> + His frosty manner would have imposed constraint upon any man less master + of himself than Samoval. But the Count ignored it, and ignoring it delayed + a moment to exchange amiabilities politely with Miss Armytage, before + taking at last an unhurried and unperturbed departure. + </p> + <p> + But no sooner was he gone than O’Moy expressed himself full frankly to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + “I think Samoval is becoming too attentive and too assiduous.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a dear,” said Lady O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I mean,” replied Sir Terence grimly. + </p> + <p> + “He has undertaken that if there should be any trouble with the Portuguese + Government about Dick’s silly affair he will put it right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said O’Moy, “that was it?” And out of his tender consideration for + her said no more. + </p> + <p> + But Sylvia Armytage, knowing what she knew from Captain Tremayne, was not + content to leave the matter there. She reverted to it presently as she was + going indoors alone with her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Una,” she said gently, “I should not place too much faith in Count + Samoval and his promises.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” Lady O’Moy was never very tolerant of advice, + especially from an inexperienced young girl. + </p> + <p> + “I do not altogether trust him. Nor does Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Terence mistrusts every man who looks at me. My dear, never marry a + jealous man,” she added with her inevitable inconsequence. + </p> + <p> + “He is the last man—the Count, I mean—to whom, in your place, + I should go for assistance if there is trouble about Dick.” She was + thinking of what Tremayne had told her of the attitude of the Portuguese + Government, and her clear-sighted mind perceived an obvious peril in + permitting Count Samoval to become aware of Dick’s whereabouts should they + ever be discovered. + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense, Sylvia! You conceive the oddest and most foolish notions + sometimes. But of course you have no experience of the world.” And beyond + that she refused to discuss the matter, nor did the wise Sylvia insist. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE FUGITIVE + </h2> + <p> + Although Dick Butler might continue missing in the flesh, in the spirit he + and his miserable affair seem to have been ever present and ubiquitous, + and a most fruitful source of trouble. + </p> + <p> + It would be at about this time that there befell in Lisbon the deplorable + event that nipped in the bud the career of that most promising young + officer, Major Berkeley of the famous Die-Hards, the 29th Foot. + </p> + <p> + Coming into Lisbon on leave from his regiment, which was stationed at + Abrantes, and formed part of the division under Sir Rowland Hill, the + major happened into a company that contained at least one member who was + hostile to Lord Wellington’s conduct of the campaign, or rather to the + measures which it entailed. As in the case of the Principal Souza, + prejudice drove him to take up any weapon that came to his hand by means + of which he could strike a blow at a system he deplored. + </p> + <p> + Since we are concerned only indirectly with the affair, it may be stated + very briefly. The young gentleman in question was a Portuguese officer and + a nephew of the Patriarch of Lisbon, and the particular criticism to which + Major Berkeley took such just exception concerned the very troublesome + Dick Butler. Our patrician ventured to comment with sneers and innuendoes + upon the fact that the lieutenant of dragoons continued missing, and he + went so far as to indulge in a sarcastic prophecy that he never would be + found. + </p> + <p> + Major Berkeley, stung by the slur thus slyly cast upon British honour, + invited the young gentleman to make himself more explicit. + </p> + <p> + “I had thought that I was explicit enough,” says young impudence, leering + at the stalwart red-coat. “But if you want it more clearly still, then I + mean that the undertaking to punish this ravisher of nunneries is one that + you English have never intended to carry out. To save your faces you will + take good care that Lieutenant Butler is never found. Indeed I doubt if he + was ever really missing.” + </p> + <p> + Major Berkeley was quite uncompromising and downright. I am afraid he had + none of the graces that can exalt one of these affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re just a very foolish liar, sir, and you deserve a good caning,” was + all he said, but the way in which he took his cane from under his arm was + so suggestive of more to follow there and then that several of the company + laid preventive hands upon him instantly. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch’s nephew, very white and very fierce to hear himself + addressed in terms which—out of respect for his august and powerful + uncle—had never been used to him before, demanded instant + satisfaction. He got it next morning in the shape of half-an-ounce of lead + through his foolish brain, and a terrible uproar ensued. To appease it a + scapegoat was necessary. As Samoval so truly said, the mob is a ferocious + god to whom sacrifices must be made. In this instance the sacrifice, of + course, was Major Berkeley. He was broken and sent home to cut his pigtail + (the adornment still clung to by the 29th) and retire into private life, + whereby the British army was deprived of an officer of singularly + brilliant promise. Thus, you see, the score against poor Richard Butler—that + foolish victim of wine and circumstance—went on increasing. + </p> + <p> + But in my haste to usher Major Berkeley out of a narrative which he + touches merely at a tangent, I am guilty of violating the chronological + order of the events. The ship in which Major Berkeley went home to England + and the rural life was the frigate Telemachus, and the Telemachus had but + dropped anchor in the Tagus at the date with which I am immediately + concerned. She came with certain stores and a heavy load of mails for the + troops, and it would be a full fortnight before she would sail again for + home. Her officers would be ashore during the time, the welcome guests of + the officers of the garrison, bearing their share in the gaieties with + which the latter strove to kill the time of waiting for events, and Marcus + Glennie, the captain of the frigate, an old friend of Tremayne’s, was by + virtue of that friendship an almost daily visitor at the adjutant’s + quarters. + </p> + <p> + But there again I am anticipating. The Telemachus came to her moorings in + the Tagus, at which for the present we may leave her, on the morning of + the day that was to close with Count Redondo’s semi-official ball. Lady + O’Moy had risen late, taking from one end of the day what she must + relinquish to the other, that thus fully rested she might look her best + that night. The greater part of the afternoon was devoted to preparation. + It was amazing even to herself what an amount of detail there was to be + considered, and from Sylvia she received but very indifferent assistance. + There were times when she regretfully suspected in Sylvia a lack of proper + womanliness, a taint almost of masculinity. There was to Lady O’Moy’s mind + something very wrong about a woman who preferred a canter to a waltz. It + was unnatural; it was suspicious; she was not quite sure that it wasn’t + vaguely immoral. + </p> + <p> + At last there had been dinner—to which she came a full half-hour + late, but of so ravishing and angelic an appearance that the sight of her + was sufficient to mollify Sir Terence’s impatience and stifle the + withering sarcasms he had been laboriously preparing. After dinner—which + was taken at six o’clock—there was still an hour to spare before the + carriage would come to take them into Lisbon. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence pleaded stress of work, occasioned by the arrival of the + Telemachus that morning, and withdrew with Tremayne to the official + quarters, to spend that hour in disposing of some of the many matters + awaiting his attention. Sylvia, who to Lady O’Moy’s exasperation seemed + now for the first time to give a thought to what she should wear that + night, went off in haste to gown herself, and so Lady O’Moy was left to + her own resources—which I assure you were few indeed. + </p> + <p> + The evening being calm and warm, she sauntered out into the open. She was + more or less annoyed with everybody—with Sir Terence and Tremayne + for their assiduity to duty, and with Sylvia for postponing all thought of + dressing until this eleventh hour, when she might have been better + employed in beguiling her ladyship’s loneliness. In this petulant mood, + Lady O’Moy crossed the quadrangle, loitered a moment by the table and + chairs placed under the trellis, and considered sitting there to await the + others. Finally, however, attracted by the glory of the sunset behind the + hills towards Abrantes, she sauntered out on to the terrace, to the + intense thankfulness of a poor wretch who had waited there for the past + ten hours in the almost despairing hope that precisely such a thing might + happen. + </p> + <p> + She was leaning upon the balustrade when a rustle in the pines below drew + her attention. The rustle worked swiftly upwards and round to the bushes + on her right, and her eyes, faintly startled, followed its career, what + time she stood tense and vaguely frightened. + </p> + <p> + Then the bushes parted and a limping figure that leaned heavily upon a + stick disclosed itself; a shaggy, red-bearded man in the garb of a + peasant; and marvel of marvels!—this figure spoke her name sharply, + warningly almost, before she had time to think of screaming. + </p> + <p> + “Una! Una! Don’t move!” + </p> + <p> + The voice was certainly the voice of Mr. Butler. But how came that voice + into the body of this peasant? Terrified, with drumming pulses, yet + obedient to the injunction, she remained without speech or movement, + whilst crouching so as to keep below the level of the balustrade the man + crept forward until he was immediately before and below her. + </p> + <p> + She stared into that haggard face, and through the half-mask of stubbly + beard gradually made out the features of her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” The name broke from her in a scream. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sh!” He waved his hands in wild alarm to repress her. “For God’s sake, + be quiet! It’s a ruined man I am if they find me here. You’ll have heard + what’s happened to me?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and uttered a half-strangled “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anywhere you can hide me? Can you get me into the house without + being seen? I am almost starving, and my leg is on fire. I was wounded + three days ago to make matters worse than they were already. I have been + lying in the woods there watching for the chance to find you alone since + sunrise this morning, and it’s devil a bite or sup I’ve had since this + time yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor Richard!” She leaned down towards him in an attitude of + compassionate, ministering grace. “But why? Why did you not come up to the + house and ask for me? No one would have recognised you.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence would if he had seen me.” + </p> + <p> + “But Terence wouldn’t have mattered. Terence will help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence!” He almost laughed from excess of bitterness, labouring under an + egotistical sense of wrong. “He’s the last man I should wish to meet, as I + have good reason to know. If it hadn’t been for that I should have come to + you a month ago—immediately after this trouble of mine. As it is, I + kept away until despair left me no other choice. Una, on no account a word + of my presence to Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “But... he’s my husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, and he’s also adjutant-general, and if I know him at all he’s the + very man to place official duty and honour and all the rest of it above + family considerations.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Richard, how little you know Terence! How wrong you are to misjudge + him like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Right or wrong, I’d prefer not to take the risk. It might end in my being + shot one fine morning before long.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, less of your Richard! It’s all the world will be hearing + you. Can you hide me, do you think, for a day or two? If you can’t, I’ll + be after shifting for myself as best I can. I’ve been playing the part of + an English overseer from Bearsley’s wine farm, and it has brought me all + the way from the Douro in safety. But the strain of it and the eternal + fear of discovery are beginning to break me. And now there’s this infernal + wound. I was assaulted by a footpad near Abrantes, as if I was worth + robbing. Anyhow I gave the fellow more than I took. Unless I have rest I + think I shall go mad and give myself up to the provost-marshal to be shot + and done with.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you talk of being shot? You have done nothing to deserve that. Why + should you fear it?” + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Butler was aware—having gathered the information lately on + his travels—of the undertaking given by the British to the Council + of Regency with regard to himself. But irresponsible egotist though he + might be, yet in common with others he was actuated by the desire which + his sister’s fragile loveliness inspired in every one to spare her + unnecessary pain or anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not myself will take any risks,” he said again. “We are at war, and + when men are at war killing becomes a sort of habit, and one life more or + less is neither here nor there.” And upon that he renewed his plea that + she should hide him if she could and that on no account should she tell a + single soul—and Sir Terence least of any—of his presence. + </p> + <p> + Having driven him to the verge of frenzy by the waste of precious moments + in vain argument, she gave him at last the promise he required. “Go back + to the bushes there,” she bade him, “and wait until I come for you. I will + make sure that the coast is clear.” + </p> + <p> + Contiguous to her dressing-room, which overlooked the quadrangle, there + was a small alcove which had been converted into a storeroom for the array + of trunks and dress boxes that Lady O’Moy had brought from England. A door + opening directly from her dressing room communicated with this alcove, and + of that door Bridget, her maid, was in possession of the key. + </p> + <p> + As she hurried now indoors she happened to meet Bridget on the stairs. The + maid announced herself on her way to supper in the servants’ quarters, and + apologised for her presumption in assuming that her ladyship would no + further require her services that evening. But since it fell in so + admirably with her ladyship’s own wishes, she insisted with quite unusual + solicitude, with vehemence almost, that Bridget should proceed upon her + way. + </p> + <p> + “Just give me the key of the alcove,” she said. “There are one or two + things I want to get.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I get them, your ladyship?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Bridget. I prefer to get them, myself.” + </p> + <p> + There was no more to be said. Bridget produced a bunch of keys, which she + surrendered to her mistress, having picked out for her the one required. + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy went up, to come down again the moment that Bridget had + disappeared. The quadrangle was deserted, the household disposed of, and + it wanted yet half-an-hour to the time for which the carriage was ordered. + No moment could have been more propitious. But in any case no concealment + was attempted—since, if detected it must have provoked suspicions + hardly likely to be aroused in any other way. + </p> + <p> + When Lady O’Moy returned indoors in the gathering dusk she was followed at + a respectful distance by the limping fugitive, who might, had he been + seen, have been supposed some messenger, or perhaps some person employed + about the house or gardens coming to her ladyship for instructions. No one + saw them, however, and they gained the dressing-room and thence the alcove + in complete safety. + </p> + <p> + There, whilst Richard, allowing his exhaustion at last to conquer him, + sank heavily down upon one of his sister’s many trunks, recking nothing of + the havoc wrought in its priceless contents, her ladyship all a-tremble + collapsed limply upon another. + </p> + <p> + But there was no rest for her. Richard’s wound required attention, and he + was faint for want of meat and drink. So having procured him the + wherewithal to wash and dress his hurt—a nasty knife-slash which had + penetrated to the bone of his thigh, the very sight of which turned her + ladyship sick and faint—she went to forage for him in a haste + increased by the fact that time was growing short. + </p> + <p> + On the dining-room sideboard, from the remains of dinner, she found and + furtively abstracted what she needed—best part of a roast chicken, a + small loaf and a half-flask of Collares. Mullins, the butler, would no + doubt be exercised presently when he discovered the abstraction. Let him + blame one of the footmen, Sir Terence’s orderly, or the cat. It mattered + nothing to Lady O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + Having devoured the food and consumed the wine, Richard’s exhaustion + assumed the form of a lethargic torpor. To sleep was now his overmastering + desire. She fetched him rugs and pillows, and he made himself a couch upon + the floor. She had demurred, of course, when he himself had suggested + this. She could not conceive of any one sleeping anywhere but in a bed. + But Dick made short work of that illusion. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I been in hiding for the last six weeks?” he asked her. “And + haven’t I been thankful to sleep in a ditch? And wasn’t I campaigning + before that? I tell you I couldn’t sleep in a bed. It’s a habit I’ve lost + entirely.” + </p> + <p> + Convinced, she gave way. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll talk to-morrow, Una,” he promised her, as he stretched himself + luxuriously upon that hard couch. “But meanwhile, on your life, not a word + to any one. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I understand, my poor Dick.” + </p> + <p> + She stooped to kiss him. But he was fast asleep already. + </p> + <p> + She went out and locked the door, and when, on the point of setting out + for Count Redondo’s, she returned the bunch of keys to Bridget the key of + the alcove was missing. + </p> + <p> + “I shall require it again in the morning, Bridget,” she explained lightly. + And then added kindly, as it seemed: “Don’t wait for me, child. Get to + bed. I shall be late in coming home, and I shall not want you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MISS ARMYTAGE’S PEARLS + </h2> + <p> + Lady O’Moy and Miss Armytage drove alone together into Lisbon. The + adjutant, still occupied, would follow as soon as he possibly could, + whilst Captain Tremayne would go on directly from the lodgings which he + shared in Alcantara with Major Carruthers—also of the adjutant’s + staff—whither he had ridden to dress some twenty minutes earlier. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill, Una?” had been Sylvia’s concerned greeting of her cousin + when she came within the range of the carriage lamps. “You are pale as a + ghost.” To this her ladyship had replied mechanically that a slight + headache troubled her. + </p> + <p> + But now that they sat side by side in the well upholstered carriage Miss + Armytage became aware that her companion was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Una, dear, whatever is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Had it not been for the dominant fear that the shedding of tears would + render her countenance unsightly, Lady O’Moy would have yielded to her + feelings and wept. Heroically in the cause of her own flawless beauty she + conquered the almost overmastering inclination. + </p> + <p> + “I—I have been so troubled about Richard,” she faltered. “It is + preying upon my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear!” In sheer motherliness Miss Armytage put an arm about her + cousin and drew her close. “We must hope for the best.” + </p> + <p> + Now if you have understood anything of the character of Lady O’Moy you + will have understood that the burden of a secret was the last burden that + such a nature was capable of carrying. It was because Dick was fully aware + of this that he had so emphatically and repeatedly impressed upon her the + necessity for saying not a word to any one of his presence. She realised + in her vague way—or rather she believed it since he had assured her—that + there would be grave danger to him if he were discovered. But discovery + was one thing, and the sharing of a confidence as to his presence another. + That confidence must certainly be shared. + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy was in an emotional maelstrom that swept her towards a + cataract. The cataract might inspire her with dread, standing as it did + for death and disaster, but the maelstrom was not to be resisted. She was + helpless in it, unequal to breasting such strong waters, she who in all + her futile, charming life had been borne snugly in safe crafts that were + steered by others. + </p> + <p> + Remained but to choose her confidant. Nature suggested Terence. But it was + against Terence in particular that she had been warned. Circumstance now + offered Sylvia Armytage. But pride, or vanity if you prefer it, denied her + here. Sylvia was an inexperienced young girl, as she herself had so often + found occasion to remind her cousin. Moreover, she fostered the fond + illusion that Sylvia looked to her for precept, that upon Sylvia’s life + she exercised a precious guiding influence. How, then, should the + supporting lean upon the supported? Yet since she must, there and then, + lean upon something or succumb instantly and completely, she chose a + middle course, a sort of temporary assistance. + </p> + <p> + “I have been imagining things,” she said. “It may be a premonition, I + don’t know. Do you believe in premonitions, Sylvia?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” Sylvia humoured her. + </p> + <p> + “I have been imagining that if Dick is hiding, a fugitive, he might + naturally come to me for help. I am fanciful, perhaps,” she added hastily, + lest she should have said too much. “But there it is. All day the notion + has clung to me, and I have been asking myself desperately what I should + do in such a case.” + </p> + <p> + “Time enough to consider it when it happens, Una. After all—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” her ladyship interrupted on that ever-ready note of petulance of + hers. “I know, of course. But I think I should be easier in my mind if I + could find an answer to my doubt. If I knew what to do, to whom to appeal + for assistance, for I am afraid that I should be very helpless myself. + There is Terence, of course. But I am a little afraid of Terence. He has + got Dick out of so many scrapes, and he is so impatient of poor Dick. I am + afraid he doesn’t understand him, and so I should be a little frightened + of appealing to Terence again.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sylvia gravely, “I shouldn’t go to Terence. Indeed he is the + last man to whom I should go.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that too!” exclaimed her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” quoth Sylvia sharply. “Who else has said it?” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief pause in which Lady O’Moy shuddered. She had been so + near to betraying herself. How very quick and shrewd Sylvia was! She made, + however, a good recovery. + </p> + <p> + “Myself, of course. It is what I have thought myself. There is Count + Samoval. He promised that if ever any such thing happened he would help + me. And he assured me I could count upon him. I think it may have been his + offer that made me fanciful.” + </p> + <p> + “I should go to Sir Terence before I went to Count Samoval. By which I + mean that I should not go to Count Samoval at all under any circumstances. + I do not trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “You said so once before, dear,” said Lady O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “And you assured me that I spoke out of the fullness of my ignorance and + inexperience.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to forgive. No doubt you were right. But remember that + instinct is most alive in the ignorant and inexperienced, and that + instinct is often a surer guide than reason. Yet if you want reason, I can + supply that too. Count Samoval is the intimate friend of the Marquis of + Minas, who remains a member of the Government, and who next to the + Principal Souza was, and no doubt is, the most bitter opponent of the + British policy in Portugal. Yet Count Samoval, one of the largest + landowners in the north, and the nobleman who has perhaps suffered most + severely from that policy, represents himself as its most vigorous + supporter.” + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy listened in growing amazement. Also she was a little shocked. + It seemed to her almost indecent that a young girl should know so much + about politics—so much of which she herself, a married woman, and + the wife of the adjutant-general, was completely in ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Save us, child!” she ejaculated. “You are so extraordinarily informed.” + </p> + <p> + “I have talked to Captain Tremayne,” said Sylvia. “He has explained all + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary conversation for a young man to hold with a young girl,” + pronounced her ladyship. “Terence never talked of such things to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence was too busy making love to you,” said Sylvia, and there was the + least suspicion of regret in her almost boyish voice. + </p> + <p> + “That may account for it,” her ladyship confessed, and fell for a moment + into consideration of that delicious and rather amusing past, when O’Moy’s + ferocious hesitancy and flaming jealousy had delighted her with the full + perception of her beauty’s power. With a rush, however, the present forced + itself back upon her notice. “But I still don’t see why Count Samoval + should have offered me assistance if he did not intend to grant it when + the time came.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia explained that it was from the Portuguese Government that the + demand for justice upon the violator of the nunnery at Tavora emanated, + and that Samoval’s offer might be calculated to obtain him information of + Butler’s whereabouts when they became known, so that he might surrender + him to the Government. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” Lady O’Moy was shocked almost beyond expression. “How you must + dislike the man to suggest that he could be such a—such a Judas.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not suggest that he could be. I warn you never to run the risk of + testing him. He may be as honest in this matter as he pretends. But if + ever Dick were to come to you for help, you must take no risk.” + </p> + <p> + The phrase was a happier one than Sylvia could suppose. It was almost the + very phrase that Dick himself had used; and its reiteration by another + bore conviction to her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “To whom then should I go?” she demanded plaintively. And Sylvia, speaking + with knowledge, remembering the promise that Tremayne had given her, + answered readily: “There is but one man whose assistance you could safely + seek. Indeed I wonder you should not have thought of him in the first + instance, since he is your own, as well as Dick’s lifelong friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Ned Tremayne?” Her ladyship fell into thought. “Do you know, I am a + little afraid of Ned. He is so very sober and cold. You do mean Ned—don’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Whom else should I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “But what could he do?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, how should I know? But at least I know—for I think I can + be sure of this—that he will not lack the will to help you; and to + have the will, in a man like Captain Tremayne, is to find a way.” + </p> + <p> + The confident, almost respectful, tone in which she spoke arrested her + ladyship’s attention. It promptly sent her off at a tangent: + </p> + <p> + “You like Ned, don’t you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I think everybody likes him.” Sylvia’s voice was now studiously cold. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I don’t mean quite in that way.” And then before the subject + could be further pursued the carriage rolled to a standstill in a flood of + light from gaping portals, scattering a mob of curious sight-seers + intersprinkled with chairmen, footmen, linkmen and all the valetaille that + hovers about the functions of the great world. + </p> + <p> + The carriage door was flung open and the steps let down. A brace of + footmen, plump as capons, in gorgeous liveries, bowed powdered heads and + proffered scarlet arms to assist the ladies to alight. + </p> + <p> + Above in the crowded, spacious, colonnaded vestibule at the foot of the + great staircase they were met-by Captain Tremayne, who had just arrived + with Major Carruthers, both resplendent in full dress, and Captain Marcus + Glennie of the Telemachus in blue and gold. Together they ascended the + great staircase, lined with chatting groups, and ablaze with uniforms, + military, naval and diplomatic, British and Portuguese, to be welcomed + above by the Count and Countess of Redondo. + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy’s entrance of the ballroom produced the effect to which custom + had by now inured her. Soon she found herself the centre of assiduous + attentions. Cavalrymen in blue, riflemen in green, scarlet officers of the + line regiments, winged light-infantrymen, rakishly pelissed, gold-braided + hussars and all the smaller fry of court and camp fluttered insistently + about her. It was no novelty to her who had been the recipient of such + homage since her first ball five years ago at Dublin Castle, and yet the + wine of it had gone ever to her head a little. But to-night she was rather + pale and listless, her rose-petal loveliness emphasised thereby perhaps. + An unusual air of indifference hung about her as she stood there amid this + throng of martial jostlers who craved the honour of a dance and at whom + she smiled a thought mechanically over the top of her slowly moving fan. + </p> + <p> + The first quadrille impended, and the senior service had carried off the + prize from under the noses of the landsmen. As she was swept away by + Captain Glennie, she came face to face with Tremayne, who was passing with + Sylvia on his arm. She stopped and tapped his arm with her fan. + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t asked to dance, Ned,” she reproached him. + </p> + <p> + “With reluctance I abstained.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t intend that you shall. I have something to say to you.” He + met her glance, and found it oddly serious—most oddly serious for + her. Responding to its entreaty, he murmured a promise in courteous terms + of delight at so much honour. + </p> + <p> + But either he forgot the promise or did not conceive its redemption to be + an urgent matter, for the quadrille being done he sauntered through one of + the crowded ante-rooms with Miss Armytage and brought her to the cool of a + deserted balcony above the garden. Beyond this was the river, agleam with + the lights of the British fleet that rode at anchor on its placid bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Una will be waiting for you,” Miss Armytage reminded him. She was leaning + on the sill of the balcony. Standing erect beside her, he considered the + graceful profile sharply outlined against a background of gloom by the + light from the windows behind them. A heavy curl of her dark hair lay upon + a neck as flawlessly white as the rope of pearls that swung from it, with + which her fingers were now idly toying. It were difficult to say which + most engaged his thoughts: the profile; the lovely line of neck; or the + rope of pearls. These latter were of price, such things as it might seldom—and + then only by sacrifice—lie within the means of Captain Tremayne to + offer to the woman whom he took to wife. + </p> + <p> + He so lost himself upon that train of thought that she was forced to + repeat her reminder. + </p> + <p> + “Una will be waiting for you, Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely as eagerly,” he answered, “as others will be waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed amusedly, a frank, boyish laugh. “I thank you for not saying + as eagerly as I am waiting for others.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Armytage, I have ever cultivated truth.” + </p> + <p> + “But we are dealing with surmise.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no surmise at all. I speak of what I know.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I.” And yet again she repeated: “Una will be waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and stiffened slightly. “Of course if you insist,” said he, and + made ready to reconduct her. + </p> + <p> + She swung round as if to go, but checked, and looked him frankly in the + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why will you for ever be misunderstanding me?” she challenged him. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is the inevitable result of my overanxiety to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Then begin by taking me more literally, and do not read into my words + more meaning than I intend to give them. When I say Una is waiting for + you, I state a simple fact, not a command that you shall go to her. Indeed + I want first to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I might take you literally now—” + </p> + <p> + “Should I have suffered you to bring me here if I did not?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, contrite, and something shaken out of his + imperturbability. “Sylvia,” he ventured very boldly, and there checked, so + terrified as to be a shame to his brave scarlet, gold-laced uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she said. She was leaning upon the balcony again, and in such a way + now that he could no longer see her profile. But her fingers were busy at + the pearls once more, and this he saw, and seeing, recovered himself. + </p> + <p> + “You have something to say to me?” he questioned in his smooth, level + voice. + </p> + <p> + Had he not looked away as he spoke he might have observed that her fingers + tightened their grip of the pearls almost convulsively, as if to break the + rope. It was a gesture slight and trivial, yet arguing perhaps vexation. + But Tremayne did not see it, and had he seen it, it is odds it would have + conveyed no message to him. + </p> + <p> + There fell a long pause, which he did not venture to break. At last she + spoke, her voice quiet and level as his own had been. + </p> + <p> + “It is about Una.” + </p> + <p> + “I had hoped,” he spoke very softly, “that it was about yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She flashed round upon him almost angrily. “Why do you utter these set + speeches to me?” she demanded. And then before he could recover from his + astonishment to make any answer she had resumed a normal manner, and was + talking quickly. + </p> + <p> + She told him of Una’s premonitions about Dick. Told him, in short, what it + was that Una desired to talk to him about. + </p> + <p> + “You bade her come to me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. After your promise to me.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent and very thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder that Una needed + to be told that she had in me a friend,” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder to whom she would have gone on her own impulse?” + </p> + <p> + “To Count Samoval,” Miss Armytage informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Samoval!” he rapped the name out sharply. He was clearly angry. “That + man! I can’t understand why O’Moy should suffer him about the house so + much.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence, like everybody else, will suffer anything that Una wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Terence is more of a fool than I ever suspected.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief pause. “If you were to fail Una in this,” said Miss + Armytage presently, “I mean that unless you yourself give her the + assurance that you are ready to do what you can for Dick, should the + occasion arise, I am afraid that in her present foolish mood she may still + avail herself of Count Samoval. That would be to give Samoval a hold upon + her; and I tremble to think what the consequences might be. That man is a + snake—a horror.” + </p> + <p> + The frankness with which she spoke was to Tremayne full evidence of her + anxiety. He was prompt to allay it. + </p> + <p> + “She shall have that assurance this very evening,” he promised. + </p> + <p> + “I at least have not pledged my word to anything or to any one. Even so,” + he added slowly, “the chances of my services being ever required grow more + slender every day. Una may be full of premonitions about Dick. But between + premonition and event there is something of a gap.” + </p> + <p> + Again a pause, and then: “I am glad,” said Miss Armytage, “to think that + Una has a friend, a trustworthy friend, upon whom she can depend. She is + so incapable of depending upon herself. All her life there has been some + one at hand to guide her and screen her from unpleasantness until she has + remained just a sweet, dear child to be taken by the hand in every dark + lane of life.” + </p> + <p> + “But she has you, Miss Armytage.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” Miss Armytage spoke deprecatingly. “I don’t think I am a very able + or experienced guide. Besides, even such as I am, she may not have me very + long now. I had letters from home this morning. Father is not very well, + and mother writes that he misses me. I am thinking of returning soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but you have only just come!” + </p> + <p> + She brightened and laughed at the dismay in his voice. “Indeed, I have + been here six weeks.” She looked out over the shimmering moonlit waters of + the Tagus and the shadowy, ghostly ships of the British fleet that rode at + anchor there, and her eyes were wistful. Her fingers, with that little + gesture peculiar to her in moments of constraint, were again entwining + themselves in her rope of pearls. “Yes,” she said almost musingly, “I + think I must be going soon.” + </p> + <p> + He was dismayed. He realised that the moment for action had come. His + heart was sounding the charge within him. And then that cursed rope of + pearls, emblem of the wealth and luxury in which she had been nurtured, + stood like an impassable abattis across his path. + </p> + <p> + “You—you will be glad to go, of course?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly that. It has been very pleasant here.” She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “We shall miss you very much,” he said gloomily. “The house at Monsanto + will not be the same when you are gone. Una will be lost and desolate + without you.” + </p> + <p> + “It occurs to me sometimes,” she said slowly, “that the people about Una + think too much of Una and too little of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + It was a cryptic speech. In another it might have signified a spitefulness + unthinkable in Sylvia Armytage; therefore it puzzled him very deeply. He + stood silent, wondering what precisely she might mean, and thus in silence + they continued for a spell. Then slowly she turned and the blaze of light + from the windows fell about her irradiantly. She was rather pale, and her + eyes were of a suspiciously excessive brightness. And again she made use + of the phrase: + </p> + <p> + “Una will be waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, as before, he stood silent and immovable, considering her, + questioning himself, searching her face and his own soul. All he saw was + that rope of shimmering pearls. + </p> + <p> + “And after all, as yourself suggested, it is possible that others may be + waiting for me,” she added presently. + </p> + <p> + Instantly he was crestfallen and contrite. “I sincerely beg your pardon, + Miss Armytage,” and with a pang of which his imperturbable exterior gave + no hint he proffered her his arm. + </p> + <p> + She took it, barely touching it with her finger-tips, and they re-entered + the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + “When do you think that you will be leaving?” he asked her gently. + </p> + <p> + There was a note of harshness in the voice that answered him. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know yet. But very soon. The sooner the better, I think.” + </p> + <p> + And then the sleek and courtly Samoval, detaching from, seeming to + materialise out of, the glittering throng they had entered, was bowing low + before her, claiming her attention. Knowing her feelings, Tremayne would + not have relinquished her, but to his infinite amazement she herself + slipped her fingers from his scarlet sleeve, to place them upon the black + one that Samoval was gracefully proffering, and greeted Samoval with a gay + raillery as oddly in contrast with her grave demeanour towards the captain + as with her recent avowal of detestation for the Count. + </p> + <p> + Stricken and half angry, Tremayne stood looking after them as they receded + towards the ballroom. To increase his chagrin came a laugh from Miss + Armytage, sharp and rather strident, floating towards him, and Miss + Armytage’s laugh was wont to be low and restrained. Samoval, no doubt, had + resources to amuse a woman—even a woman who instinctively, disliked + him—resources of which Captain Tremayne himself knew nothing. + </p> + <p> + And then some one tapped him on the shoulder. A very tall, hawk-faced man + in a scarlet coat and tightly strapped blue trousers stood beside him. It + was Colquhoun Grant, the ablest intelligence officer in Wellington’s + service. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Colonel!” cried Tremayne, holding out his hand. “I didn’t know you + were in Lisbon.” + </p> + <p> + “I arrived only this afternoon.” The keen eyes flashed after the + disappearing figures of Sylvia and her cavalier. “Tell me, what is the + name of the irresistible gallant who has so lightly ravished you of your + quite delicious companion?” + </p> + <p> + “Count Samoval,” said Tremayne shortly. + </p> + <p> + Grant’s face remained inscrutable. “Really!” he said softly. “So that is + Jeronymo de Samoval, eh? How very interesting. A great supporter of the + British policy; therefore an altruist, since himself he is a sufferer by + it; and I hear that he has become a great friend of O’Moy’s.” + </p> + <p> + “He is at Monsanto a good deal certainly,” Tremayne admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Most interesting.” Grant was slowly nodding, and a faint smile curled his + thin, sensitive lips. “But I’m keeping you, Tremayne, and no doubt you + would be dancing. I shall perhaps see you to-morrow. I shall be coming up + to Monsanto.” + </p> + <p> + And with a wave of the hand he passed on and was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE ALLY + </h2> + <p> + Tremayne elbowed his way through the gorgeous crowd, exchanging greetings + here and there as he went, and so reached the ballroom during a pause in + the dancing. He looked round for Lady O’Moy, but he could see her nowhere, + and would never have found her had not Carruthers pointed out a knot of + officers and assured him that the lady was in the heart of it and in + imminent peril of being suffocated. + </p> + <p> + Thither the captain bent his steps, looking neither to right nor left in + his singleness of purpose. Thus it happened that he saw neither O’Moy, who + had just arrived, nor the massive, decorated bulk of Marshal Beresford, + with whom the adjutant stood in conversation on the skirts of the throng + that so assiduously worshipped at her ladyship’s shrine. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne went through the group with all a sapper’s skill at + piercing obstacles, and so came face to face with the lady of his quest. + Seeing her so radiant now, with sparkling eyes and ready laugh, it was + difficult to conceive her haunted by any such anxieties as Miss Armytage + had mentioned. Yet the moment she perceived him, as if his presence acted + as a reminder to lift her out of the delicious present, something of her + gaiety underwent eclipse. + </p> + <p> + Child of impulse that she was, she gave no thought to her action and the + construction it might possibly bear in the minds of men chagrined and + slighted. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ned,” she cried, “you have kept me waiting.” And with a complete and + charming ignoring of the claims of all who had been before him, and who + were warring there for precedence of one another, she took his arm in + token that she yielded herself to him before even the honour was so much + as solicited. + </p> + <p> + With nods and smiles to right and left—a queen dismissing her court—she + passed on the captain’s arm through the little crowd that gave way before + her dismayed and intrigued, and so away. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy, who had been awaiting a favourable moment to present the marshal by + the marshal’s own request, attempted to thrust forward now with Beresford + at his side. But the bowing line of officers whose backs were towards him + effectively barred his progress, and before they had broken up that + formation her ladyship and her cavalier were out of sight, lost in the + moving crowd. + </p> + <p> + The marshal laughed good-humouredly. “The infallible reward of patience,” + said he. And O’Moy laughed with him. But the next moment he was scowling + at what he overheard. + </p> + <p> + “On my soul, that was impudence!” an Irish infantryman had protested. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever heard,” quoth a heavy dragoon, who was also a heavy jester, + “that in heaven the last shall be first? If you pay court to an angel you + must submit to celestial customs.” + </p> + <p> + “And bedad,” rejoined the infantryman, “as there’s no marryin’ in heaven + ye’ve got to make the best of it with other men’s wives. Sure it’s a great + success that fellow should be in paradise. Did ye remark the way she + melted to him beauty swooning at the sight of temptation! Bad luck to him! + Who is he at all?” + </p> + <p> + They dispersed laughing and followed by O’Moy’s scowling eyes. It annoyed + him that his wife’s thoughtless conduct should render her the butt of such + jests as these, and perhaps a subject for lewd gossip. He would speak to + her about it later. Meanwhile the marshal had linked arms with him. + </p> + <p> + “Since the privilege must be postponed,” said he, “suppose that we seek + supper. I have always found that a man can best heal in his stomach the + wounds taken by his heart.” His fleshy bulk afforded a certain prima-facie + confirmation of the dictum. + </p> + <p> + With a roll more suggestive of the quarter-deck than the saddle, the great + man bore off O’Moy in quest of material consolation. Yet as they went the + adjutant’s eyes raked the ballroom in quest of his wife. That quest, + however, was unsuccessful, for his wife was already in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk to you most urgently, Ned. Take me somewhere where we can + be quite private,” she had begged the captain. “Somewhere where there is + no danger of being overheard.” + </p> + <p> + Her agitation, now uncontrolled, suggested to Tremayne that the matter + might be far more serious and urgent than Miss Armytage had represented + it. He thought first of the balcony where he had lately been. But then the + balcony opened immediately from the ante-room and was likely at any moment + to be invaded. So, since the night was soft and warm, he preferred the + garden. Her ladyship went to find a wrap, then arm in arm they passed out, + and were lost in the shadows of an avenue of palm-trees. + </p> + <p> + “It is about Dick,” she said breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I know—Miss Armytage told me.” + </p> + <p> + “What did she tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “That you had a premonition that he might come to you for assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “A premonition!” Her ladyship laughed nervously. “It is more than a + premonition, Ned. He has come.” + </p> + <p> + The captain stopped in his stride, and stood quite still. + </p> + <p> + “Come?” he echoed. “Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” she warned him, and sank her voice from very instinct. “He came to + me this evening, half an hour before we left home. I have put him in an + alcove adjacent to my dressing-room for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “You have left him there?” He was alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s no fear. No one ever goes there except Bridget. And I have + locked the alcove. He’s fast asleep. He was asleep before I left. The poor + fellow was so worn and weary.” Followed details of his appearance and a + recital of his wanderings so far as he had made them known to her. “And he + was so insistent that no one should know, not even Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence must not know,” he said gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You think that too!” + </p> + <p> + “If Terence knows—well, you will regret it all the days of your + life, Una.” + </p> + <p> + He was so stern, so impressive, that she begged for explanation. He + afforded it. “You would be doing Terence the utmost cruelty if you told + him. You would be compelling him to choose between his honour and his + concern for you. And since he is the very soul of honour, he must + sacrifice you and himself, your happiness and his own, everything that + makes life good for you both, to his duty.” + </p> + <p> + She was aghast, for all that she was far from understanding. But he went + on relentlessly to make his meaning clear, for the sake of O’Moy as much + as for her own—for the sake of the future of these two people who + were perhaps his dearest friends. He saw in what danger of shipwreck their + happiness now stood, and he took the determination of clearly pointing out + to her every shoal in the water through which she must steer her course. + </p> + <p> + “Since this has happened, Una, you must be told the whole truth; you must + listen, and, above all, be reasonable. I am Dick’s friend, as I am your + own and Terence’s. Your father was my best friend, perhaps, and my + gratitude to him is unbounded, as I hope you know. You and Dick are almost + as brother and sister to me. In spite of this—indeed, because of + this, I have prayed for news that Dick was dead.” + </p> + <p> + Her grasp interrupted him, and he felt the tightening clutch of her hands + upon his arm in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “I have prayed this for Dick’s sake, and more than all for the sake of + your happiness and Terence’s. If Dick is taken the choice before Terence + is a tragic one. You will realise it when I tell you that duty forced him + to pledge his word to the Portuguese Government that Dick should be shot + when found.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” It was a gasp of horror, of incredulity. She loosed his arm and drew + away from him. “It is infamous! I can’t believe it. I can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. I swear it to you. I was present, and I heard.” + </p> + <p> + “And you allowed it?” + </p> + <p> + “What could I do? How could I interfere? Besides, the minister who + demanded that undertaking knew nothing of the relationship between O’Moy + and this missing officer.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but he could have been told.” + </p> + <p> + “That would have made no difference—unless it were to create fresh + difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + She stood there ghostly white against the gloom. A dry sob broke from her. + “Terence did that! Terence did that!” she moaned. And then in a surge of + anger: “I shall never speak to Terence again. I shall not live with him + another day. It was infamous! Infamous!” + </p> + <p> + “It was not infamous. It was almost noble, almost heroic,” he amazed her. + “Listen, Una, and try to understand.” He took her arm again and drew her + gently on down that avenue of moonlight-fretted darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I understand,” she cried bitterly. “I understand perfectly. He has + always been hard on Dick! He has always made mountains out of molehills + where Dick was concerned. He forgets that Dick is young a mere boy. He + judges Dick from the standpoint of his own sober middle age. Why, he’s an + old man—a wicked old man!” + </p> + <p> + Thus her rage, hurling at O’Moy what in the insolence of her youth seemed + the last insult. + </p> + <p> + “You are very unjust, Una. You are even a little stupid,” he said, deeming + the punishment necessary and salutary. + </p> + <p> + “Stupid! I stupid! I have never been called stupid before.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have undoubtedly deserved to be,” he assured her with perfect + calm. + </p> + <p> + It took her aback by its directness, and for a moment left her without an + answer. Then: “I think you had better leave me,” she told him frostily. + “You forget yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do,” he admitted. “That is because I am more concerned to think + of Dick and Terence and yourself. Sit down, Una.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached a little circle by a piece of ornamental water, facing + which a granite-hewn seat had been placed. She sank to it obediently, if + sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “It may perhaps help you to understand what Terence has done when I tell + you that in his place, loving Dick as I do, I must have pledged myself + precisely as he did or else despised myself for ever. And being pledged, I + must keep my word or go in the same self-contempt.” He elaborated his + argument by explaining the full circumstances under which the pledge had + been exacted. “But be in no doubt about it,” he concluded. “If Terence + knows of Dick’s presence at Monsanto he has no choice. He must deliver him + up to a firing party—or to a court-martial which will inevitably + sentence him to death, no matter what the defence that Dick may urge. He + is a man prejudged, foredoomed by the necessities of war. And Terence will + do this although it will break his heart and ruin all his life. Understand + me, then, that in enjoining you never to allow Terence to suspect that + Dick is present, I am pleading not so much for you or for Dick, but for + Terence himself—for it is upon Terence that the hardest and most + tragic suffering must fall. Now do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand that men are very stupid,” was her way of admitting it. + </p> + <p> + “And you see that you were wrong in judging Terence as you did?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + She didn’t understand it all. But since Tremayne was so insistent she + supposed there must be something in his point of view. She had been + brought up in the belief that Ned Tremayne was common sense incarnate; and + although she often doubted it—as you may doubt the dogmas of a + religion in which you have been bred—yet she never openly rebelled + against that inculcated faith. Above all she wanted to cry. She knew that + it would be very good for her. She had often found a singular relief in + tears when vexed by things beyond her understanding. But she had to think + of that flock of gallants in the ballroom waiting to pay court to her and + of her duty towards them of preserving her beauty unimpaired by the + ravages of a vented sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne sat down beside her. “So now that we understand each other on + that score, let us consider ways and means to dispose of Dick.” + </p> + <p> + At once she was uplifted and became all eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Yes. You will help me, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + “You can depend upon me to do all in human power.” + </p> + <p> + He thought rapidly, and gave voice to some of his thoughts. “If I could I + would take him to my lodgings at Alcantara. But Carruthers knows him and + would see him there. So that is out of the question. Then again it is + dangerous to move him about. At any moment he might be seen and + recognised.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly recognised,” she said. “His beard disguises him, and his dress—” + She shuddered at the very thought of the figure he had cut, he, the + jaunty, dandy Richard Butler. + </p> + <p> + “That is something, of course,” he agreed. And then asked: “How long do + you think that you could keep him hidden?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. You see, there’s Bridget. She is the only danger, as she + has charge of my dressing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be desperate, but—Can you trust her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sure I can. She is devoted to me; she would do anything—” + </p> + <p> + “She must be bought as well. Devotion and gain when linked together will + form an unbreakable bond. Don’t let us be stingy, Una. Take her into your + confidence boldly, and promise her a hundred guineas for her silence—payable + on the day that Dick leaves the country.” + </p> + <p> + “But how are we to get him out of the country?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know a way. I can depend on Marcus Glennie. I may tell him the + whole truth and the identity of our man, or I may not. I must think about + that. But, whatever I decide, I am sure I can induce Glennie to take our + fugitive home in the Telemachus and land him safely somewhere in Ireland, + where he will have to lose himself for awhile. Perhaps for Glennie’s sake + it will be safer not to disclose Dick’s identity. Then if there should be + trouble later, Glennie, having known nothing of the real facts, will not + be held responsible. I will talk to him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he will consent?” she asked in strained anxiety—anxiety + to have her anxieties dispelled. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he will. I can almost pledge my word on it. Marcus would do + anything to serve me. Oh, set your mind at rest. Consider the thing done. + Keep Dick safely hidden for a week or so until the Telemachus is ready to + sail—he mustn’t go on board until the last moment, for several + reasons—and I will see to the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Under that confident promise her troubles fell from her, as lightly as + they ever did. + </p> + <p> + “You are very good to me, Ned. Forgive me what I said just now. And I + think I understand about Terence—poor dear old Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do.” Moved to comfort her as he might have been moved to + comfort a child, he flung his arm along the seat behind her, and patted + her shoulder soothingly. “I knew you would understand. And not a word to + Terence, not a word that could so much as awaken his suspicions. Remember + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall.” + </p> + <p> + Fell a step upon the patch behind them crunching the gravel. Captain + Tremayne, his arm still along the back of the seat, and seeming to envelop + her ladyship, looked over her shoulder. A tall figure was advancing + briskly. He recognised it even in the gloom by its height and gait and + swing for O’Moy’s. + </p> + <p> + “Why, here is Terence,” he said easily—so easily, with such frank + and obvious honesty of welcome, that the anger in which O’Moy came wrapped + fell from him on the instant, to be replaced by shame. + </p> + <p> + “I have been looking for you everywhere, my dear,” he said to Una. + “Marshal Beresford is anxious to pay you his respects before he leaves, + and you have been so hedged about by gallants all the evening that it’s + devil a chance he’s had of approaching you.” There was a certain + constraint in his voice, for a man may not recover instantly from such + feelings as those which had fetched him hot-foot down that path at sight + of those two figures sitting so close and intimate, the young man’s arm so + proprietorialy about the lady’s shoulders—as it seemed. + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy sprang up at once, with a little silvery laugh that was + singularly care-free; for had not Tremayne lifted the burden entirely from + her shoulders? + </p> + <p> + “You should have married a dowd,” she mocked him. “Then you’d have found + her more easily accessible.” + </p> + <p> + “Instead of finding her dallying in the moonlight with my secretary,” he + rallied back between good and ill humour. And he turned to Tremayne: + “Damned indiscreet of you, Ned,” he added more severely. “Suppose you had + been seen by any of the scandalmongering old wives of the garrison? A nice + thing for Una and a nice thing for me, begad, to be made the subject of + fly-blown talk over the tea-cups.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne accepted the rebuke in the friendly spirit in which it appeared + to be conveyed. “Sorry, O’Moy,” he said. “You’re quite right. We should + have thought of it. Everybody isn’t to know what our relations are.” And + again he was so manifestly honest and so completely at his ease that it + was impossible to harbour any thought of evil, and O’Moy felt again the + glow of shame of suspicions so utterly unworthy and dishonouring. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE INTELLIGENCE OFFICER + </h2> + <p> + In a small room of Count Redondo’s palace, a room that had been set apart + for cards, sat three men about a card-table. They were Count Samoval, the + elderly Marquis of Minas, lean, bald and vulturine of aspect, with a + deep-set eye that glared fiercely through a single eyeglass rimmed in + tortoise-shell, and a gentleman still on the fair side of middle age, with + a clear-cut face and iron-grey hair, who wore the dark green uniform of a + major of Cacadores. + </p> + <p> + Considering his Portuguese uniform, it is odd that the low-toned, earnest + conversation amongst them should have been conducted in French. + </p> + <p> + There were cards on the table; but there was no pretence of play. You + might have conceived them a group of players who, wearied of their game, + had relinquished it for conversation. They were the only tenants of the + room, which was small, cedar-panelled and lighted by a girandole of + sparkling crystal. Through the closed door came faintly from the distant + ballroom the strains of the dance music. + </p> + <p> + With perhaps the single exception of the Principal Souza, the British + policy had no more bitter opponent in Portugal than the Marquis of Minas. + Once a member of the Council of Regency—before Souza had been + elected to that body—he had quitted it in disgust at the British + measures. His chief ground of umbrage had been the appointment of British + officers to the command of the Portuguese regiments which formed the + division under Marshal Beresford. In this he saw a deliberate insult and + slight to his country and his countrymen. He was a man of burning and + blinded patriotism, to whom Portugal was the most glorious nation in the + world. He lived in his country’s splendid past, refusing to recognise that + the days of Henry the Navigator, of Vasco da Gama, of Manuel the Fortunate—days + in which Portugal had been great indeed among the nations of the Old World + were gone and done with. He respected Britons as great merchants and + industrious traders; but, after all, merchants and traders are not the + peers of fighters on land and sea, of navigators, conquerors and + civilisers, such as his countrymen had been, such as he believed them + still to be. That the descendants of Gamas, Cunhas, Magalhaes and + Albuquerques—men whose names were indelibly written upon the very + face of the world—should be passed over, whilst alien officers lead + been brought in to train and command the Portuguese legions, was an + affront to Portugal which Minas could never forgive. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that he had become a rebel, withdrawing from a government + whose supineness he could not condone. For a while his rebellion had been + passive, until the Principal Souza had heated him in the fire of his own + rage and fashioned him into an intriguing instrument of the first power. + He was listening intently now to the soft, rapid speech of the gentleman + in the major’s uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, rumours had reached the Prince of this policy of devastation,” + he was saying, “but his Highness has been disposed to treat these rumours + lightly, unable to see, as indeed are we all, what useful purpose such a + policy could finally serve. He does not underrate the talents of milord + Wellington as a commander. He does not imagine that he would pursue such + operations out of pure wantonness; yet if such operations are indeed being + pursued, what can they be but wanton? A moment, Count,” he stayed Samoval, + who was about to interrupt. His mind and manner were authoritative. “We + know most positively from the Emperor’s London agents that the war is + unpopular in England; we know that public opinion is being prepared for a + British retreat, for the driving of the British into the sea, as must + inevitably happen once Monsieur le Prince decides to launch his bolt. Here + in the Tagus the British fleet lies ready to embark the troops, and the + British Cabinet itself” (he spoke more slowly and emphatically) “expects + that embarkation to take place at latest in September, which is just about + the time that the French offensive should be at its height and the French + troops under the very walls of Lisbon. I admit that by this policy of + devastation if, indeed, it be true—added to a stubborn contesting of + every foot of ground, the French advance may be retarded. But the process + will be costly to Britain in lives and money.” + </p> + <p> + “And more costly still to Portugal,” croaked the Marquis of Minas. + </p> + <p> + “And, as you, say, Monsieur le Marquis, more costly still to Portugal. Let + me for a moment show you another side of the picture. The French + administration, so sane, so cherishing, animated purely by ideas of + progress, enforcing wise and beneficial laws, making ever for the + prosperity and well-being of conquered nations, knows how to render itself + popular wherever it is established. This Portugal knows already—or + at least some part of it. There was the administration of Soult in Oporto, + so entirely satisfactory to the people that it was no inconsiderable party + was prepared, subject to the Emperor’s consent, to offer him the crown and + settle down peacefully under his rule. There was the administration of + Junot in Lisbon. I ask you: when was Lisbon better governed? + </p> + <p> + “Contrast, for a moment, with these the present British administration—for + it amounts to an administration. Consider the burning grievances that must + be left behind by this policy of laying the country waste, of pauperising + a million people of all degrees, driving them homeless from the lands on + which they were born, after compelling them to lend a hand in the + destruction of all that their labour has built up through long years. If + any policy could better serve the purposes of France, I know it not. The + people from here to Beira should be ready to receive the French with open + arms, and to welcome their deliverance from this most costly and bitter + British protection. + </p> + <p> + “Do you, Messieurs, detect a flaw in these arguments?” + </p> + <p> + Both shook their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Bien!” said the major of Portuguese Cacadores. “Then we reach one or two + only possible conclusions: either these rumours of a policy of devastation + which have reached the Prince of Esslingen are as utterly false as he + believes them to be, or—” + </p> + <p> + “To my cost I know them to be true, as I have already told you,” Samoval + interrupted bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Or,” the major persisted, raising a hand to restrain the Count, “or there + is something further that has not been yet discovered—a mystery the + enucleation of which will shed light upon all the rest. Since you assure + me, Monsieur le Comte, that milord Wellington’s policy is beyond doubt, as + reported to Monsieur, le Marechal, it but remains to address ourselves to + the discovery of the mystery underlying it. What conclusions have you + reached? You, Monsieur de Samoval, have had exceptional opportunities of + observation, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid my opportunities have been none so exceptional as you + suppose,” replied Samoval, with a dubious shake of his sleek, dark head. + “At one time I founded great hopes in Lady O’Moy. But Lady O’Moy is a + fool, and does not enjoy her husband’s confidence in official matters. + What she knows I know. Unfortunately it does not amount to very much. One + conclusion, however, I have reached: Wellington is preparing in Portugal a + snare for Massena’s army.” + </p> + <p> + “A snare? Hum!” The major pursed his full lips into a smile of scorn. + “There cannot be a trap with two exits, my friend. Massena enters Portugal + at Almeida and marches to Lisbon and the open sea. He may be + inconvenienced or hampered in his march; but its goal is certain. Where, + then, can lie the snare? Your theory presupposes an impassable barrier to + arrest the French when they are deep in the country and an overwhelming + force to cut off their retreat when that barrier is reached. The + overwhelming force does not exist and cannot be manufactured; as for the + barrier, no barrier that it lies within human power to construct lies + beyond French power to over-stride.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not make too sure of that,” Samoval warned him. “And you have + overlooked something.” + </p> + <p> + The major glanced at the Count sharply and without satisfaction. He + accounted himself—trained as he had been under the very eye of the + great Emperor—of some force in strategy and tactics, a player too + well versed in the game to overlook the possible moves of an opponent. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he said, with the ghost of a sneer. “For instance, Monsieur le + Comte?” + </p> + <p> + “The overwhelming force exists,” said Samoval. + </p> + <p> + “Where is it then? Whence has it been created? If you refer to the united + British and Portuguese troops, you will be good enough to bear in mind + that they will be retreating before the Prince. They cannot at once be + before and behind him.” + </p> + <p> + The man’s cool assurance and cooler contempt of Samoval’s views stung the + Count into some sharpness. + </p> + <p> + “Are you seeking information, sir, or are you bestowing it?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte. I inquire of course. I put forward + arguments to anticipate conditions that may possibly be erroneous.” + </p> + <p> + Samoval waived the point. “There is another force besides the British and + Portuguese troops that you have left out of your calculations.” + </p> + <p> + “And that?” The major was still faintly incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “You should remember what Wellington obviously remembers: that a French + army depends for its sustenance upon the country it is invading. That is + why Wellington is stripping the French line of penetration as bare of + sustenance as this card-table. If we assume the existence of the barrier—an + impassable line of fortifications encountered within many marches of the + frontier—we may also assume that starvation will be the overwhelming + force that will cut off the French retreat.” + </p> + <p> + The other’s keen eyes flickered. For a moment his face lost its assurance, + and it was Samoval’s turn to smile. But the major made a sharp recovery. + He slowly shook his iron-grey head. + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to assume an impassable barrier. That is an + inadmissible hypothesis. There is no such thing as a line of + fortifications impassable to the French.” + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, Major, but it is yourself have no right to your own + assumptions. Again you overlook something. I will grant that technically + what you say is true. No fortifications can be built that cannot be + destroyed—given adequate power, with which it is yet to prove that + Massena not knowing what may await him, will be equipped. + </p> + <p> + “But let us for a moment take so much for granted, and now consider this: + fortifications are unquestionably building in the region of Torres Vedras, + and Wellington guards the secret so jealously that not even the British—either + here or in England—are aware of their nature. That is why the + Cabinet in London takes for granted an embarkation in September. + Wellington has not even taken his Government into his confidence. That is + the sort of man he is. Now these fortifications have been building since + last October. Best part of eight months have already gone in their + construction. It may be another two or three months before the French army + reaches them. I do not say that the French cannot pass them, given time. + But how long will it take the French to pull down what it will have taken + ten or eleven months to construct? And if they are unable to draw + sustenance from a desolate, wasted country, what time will they have at + their disposal? It will be with them a matter of life or death. Having + come so far they must reach Lisbon or perish; and if the fortifications + can delay them by a single month, then, granted that all Lord Wellington’s + other dispositions have been duly carried out, perish they must. It + remains, Monsieur le Major, for you to determine whether, with all their + energy, with all their genius and all their valour, the French can—in + an ill-nourished condition—destroy in a few weeks the considered + labour of nearly a year.” + </p> + <p> + The major was aghast. He had changed colour, and through his eyes, wide + and staring, his stupefaction glared forth at them. + </p> + <p> + Minas uttered a dry cough under cover of his hand, and screwed up his + eyeglass to regard the major more attentively. “You do not appear to have + considered all that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Marquis,” was the half-indignant answer, “why was I not told + all this to begin with? You represented yourself as but indifferently + informed, Monsieur de Samoval. Whereas—” + </p> + <p> + “So I am, my dear Major, as far as information goes. If I did not use + these arguments before, it was because it seemed to me an impertinence to + offer what, after all, are no more than the conclusions of my own + constructive and deductive reasoning to one so well versed in strategy as + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The major was silenced for a moment. “I congratulate you, Count,” he said. + “Monsieur le Marechal shall have your views without delay. Tell me,” he + begged. “You say these fortifications lie in the region of Torres Vedras. + Can you be more precise?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. But again I warn you that I can tell you only what I infer. I + judge they will run from the sea, somewhere near the mouth of the + Zizandre, in a semicircle to the Tagus, somewhere to the south of + Santarem. I know that they do not reach as far north as San, because the + roads there are open, whereas all roads to the south, where I am assuming + that the fortifications lie, are closed and closely guarded.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you suggest a semicircle?” + </p> + <p> + “Because that is the formation of the hills, and presumably the line of + heights would be followed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the major approved slowly. “And the distance, then, would be some + thirty or forty miles?” + </p> + <p> + “Fully.” + </p> + <p> + The major’s face relaxed its gravity. He even smiled. “You will agree, + Count, that in a line of that extent a uniform strength is out of the + question. It must perforce present many weak, many vulnerable, places.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, undoubtedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Plans of these lines must be in existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Again undoubtedly. Sir Terence O’Moy will have plans in his possession + showing their projected extent. Colonel Fletcher, who is in charge of the + construction, is in constant communication with the adjutant, himself an + engineer; and—as I partly imagine, partly infer from odd phrases + that I have overheard—especially entrusted by Lord Wellington with + the supervision of the works.” + </p> + <p> + “Two things, then, are necessary,” said the major promptly. “The first is, + that the devastation of the country should be retarded, and as far as + possible hindered altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Minas, “you may safely leave to myself and Souza’s other + friends, the northern noblemen who have no intention of becoming the + victims of British disinclination to pitched battles.” + </p> + <p> + “The second—and this is more difficult—is that we should + obtain by hook or by crook a plan of the fortifications.” And he looked + directly at Samoval. + </p> + <p> + The Count nodded slowly, but his face expressed doubt. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite alive to the necessity. I always have been. But—” + </p> + <p> + “To a man of your resource and intelligence—an intelligence of which + you have just given such very signal proof—the matter should be + possible.” He paused a moment. Then: “If I understand you correctly, + Monsieur de Samoval, your fortunes have suffered deeply, and you are + almost ruined by this policy of Wellington’s. You are offered the + opportunity of making a magnificent recovery. The Emperor is the most + generous paymaster in the world, and he is beyond measure impatient at the + manner in which the campaign in the Peninsula is dragging on. He has + spoken of it as an ulcer that is draining the Empire of its resources. For + the man who could render him the service of disclosing the weak spot in + this armour, the Achilles heel of the British, there would be a reward + beyond all your possible dreams. Obtain the plans, then, and—” + </p> + <p> + He checked abruptly. The door had opened, and in a Venetian mirror facing + him upon the wall the major caught the reflection of a British uniform, + the stiff gold collar surmounted by a bronzed hawk face with which he was + acquainted. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” said the officer in Portuguese, “I was + looking for—” + </p> + <p> + His voice became indistinct, so that they never knew who it was that he + had been seeking when he intruded upon their privacy. The door had closed + again and the reflection had vanished from the mirror. But there were + beads of perspiration on the major’s brow. + </p> + <p> + “It is fortunate,” he muttered breathlessly, “that my back was towards + him. I would as soon meet the devil face to face. I didn’t dream he was in + Lisbon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” asked Minas. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Grant, the British Intelligence officer. Phew! Name of a Name! + What an escape!” The major mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. + “Beware of him, Monsieur de Samoval.” + </p> + <p> + He rose. He was obviously shaken by the meeting. + </p> + <p> + “If one of you will kindly make quite sure that he is not about I think + that I had better go. If we should meet everything might be ruined.” Then + with a change of manner he stayed Samoval, who was already on his way to + the door. “We understand each other, then?” he questioned them. “I have my + papers, and at dawn I leave Lisbon. I shall report your conclusions to the + Prince, and in anticipation I may already offer you the expression of his + profoundest gratitude. Meanwhile, you know what is to do. Opposition to + the policy, and the plans of the fortifications—above all the + plans.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with them, and having waited until Samoval assured him that + the corridor outside was clear, he took his departure, and was soon + afterwards driving home, congratulating himself upon his most fortunate + escape from the hawk eye of Colquhoun Grant. + </p> + <p> + But when in the dead of that night he was awakened to find a British + sergeant with a halbert and six redcoats with fixed bayonets surrounding + his bed it occurred to him belatedly that what one man can see in a mirror + is also visible to another, and that Marshal Massena, Prince of Esslingen, + waiting for information beyond Ciudad Rodrigo, would never enjoy the + advantages of a report of Count Samoval’s masterly constructive and + deductive reasoning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE GENERAL ORDER + </h2> + <p> + Sir Terence sat alone in his spacious, severely furnished private room in + the official quarters at Monsanto. On the broad carved writing-table + before him there was a mass of documents relating to the clothing and + accoutrement of the forces, to leaves of absence, to staff appointments; + there were returns from the various divisions of the sick and wounded in + hospital, from which a complete list was to be prepared for the Secretary + of State for War at home; there were plans of the lines at Torres Vedras + just received, indicating the progress of the works at various points; and + there were documents and communications of all kinds concerned with the + adjutant-general’s multifarious and arduous duties, including an urgent + letter from Colonel Fletcher suggesting that the Commander-in-Chief should + take an early opportunity of inspecting in person the inner lines of + fortification. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence, however, sat back in his chair, his work neglected, his eyes + dreamily gazing through the open window, but seeing nothing of the + sun-drenched landscape beyond, a heavy frown darkening his bronzed and + rugged face. His mind was very far from his official duties and the mass + of reminders before him—this Augean stable of arrears. He was lost + in thought of his wife and Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + Five days had elapsed since the ball at Count Redondo’s, where Sir Terence + had surprised the pair together in the garden and his suspicions had been + fired by the compromising attitude in which he had discovered them. + Tremayne’s frank, easy bearing, so unassociable with guilt, had, as we + know, gone far, to reassure him, and had even shamed him, so that he had + trampled his suspicions underfoot. But other things had happened since to + revive his bitter doubts. Daily, constantly, had he been coming upon + Tremayne and Lady O’Moy alone together in intimate, confidential talk + which was ever silenced on his approach. The two had taken to wandering by + themselves in the gardens at all hours, a thing that had never been so + before, and O’Moy detected, or imagined that he detected, a closer + intimacy between them, a greater warmth towards the captain on the part of + her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Thus matters had reached a pass in which peace of mind was impossible to + him. It was not merely what he saw, it was his knowledge of what was; it + was his ever-present consciousness of his own age and his wife’s youth; it + was the memory of his ante-nuptial jealousy of Tremayne which had been + awakened by the gossip of those days—a gossip that pronounced + Tremayne Una Butler’s poor suitor, too poor either to declare himself or + to be accepted if he did. The old wound which that gossip had dealt him + then was reopened now. He thought of Tremayne’s manifest concern for Una; + he remembered how in that very room some six weeks ago, when Butler’s + escapade had first been heard of, it was from avowed concern for Una that + Tremayne had urged him to befriend and rescue his rascally brother-in-law. + He remembered, too, with increasing bitterness that it was Una herself had + induced him to appoint Tremayne to his staff. + </p> + <p> + There were moments when the conviction of Tremayne’s honesty, the thought + of Tremayne’s unswerving friendship for himself, would surge up to combat + and abate the fires of his devastating jealousy. + </p> + <p> + But evidence would kindle those fires anew until they flamed up to scorch + his soul with shame and anger. He had been a fool in that he had married a + woman of half his years; a fool in that he had suffered her former lover + to be thrown into close association with her. + </p> + <p> + Thus he assured himself. But he would abide by his folly, and so must she. + And he would see to it that whatever fruits that folly yielded, dishonour + should not be one of them. Through all his darkening rage there beat the + light of reason. To avert, he bethought him, was better than to avenge. + Nor were such stains to be wiped out by vengeance. A cuckold remains a + cuckold though he take the life of the man who has reduced him to that + ignominy. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne must go before the evil transcended reparation. Let him return to + his regiment and do his work of sapping and mining elsewhere than in + O’Moy’s household. + </p> + <p> + Eased by that resolve he rose, a tall, martial figure, youth and energy in + every line of it for all his six and forty years. Awhile he paced the room + in thought. Then, suddenly, with hands clenched behind his back, he + checked by the window, checked on a horrible question that had flashed + upon his tortured mind. What if already the evil should be irreparable? + What proof had he that it was not so? + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Tremayne himself came in quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the very devil to pay, sir,” he announced, with that odd mixture + of familiarity towards his friend and deference to his chief. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy looked at him in silence with smouldering, questioning eyes, + thinking of anything but the trouble which the captain’s air and manner + heralded. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Stanhope has just arrived from headquarters with messages for + you. A terrible thing has happened, sir. The dispatches from home by the + Thunderbolt which we forwarded from here three weeks ago reached Lord + Wellington only the day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence became instantly alert. + </p> + <p> + “Garfield, who carried them, came into collision at Penalva with an + officer of Anson’s Brigade. There was a meeting, and Garfield was shot + through the lung. He lay between life and death for a fortnight, with the + result that the dispatches were delayed until he recovered sufficiently to + remember them and to have them forwarded by other hands. But you had + better see Stanhope himself.” + </p> + <p> + The aide-de-camp came in. He was splashed from head to foot in witness of + the fury with which he had ridden, his hair was caked with dust and his + face haggard. But he carried himself with soldierly uprightness, and his + speech was brisk. He repeated what Tremayne had already stated, with some + few additional details. + </p> + <p> + “This wretched fellow sent Lord Wellington a letter dictated from his bed, + in which he swore that the duel was forced upon him, and that his honour + allowed him no alternative. I don’t think any feature of the case has so + deeply angered Lord Wellington as this stupid plea. He mentioned that when + Sir John Moore was at Herrerias, in the course of his retreat upon + Corunna, he sent forward instructions for the leading division to halt at + Lugo, where he designed to deliver battle if the enemy would accept it. + That dispatch was carried to Sir David Baird by one of Sir John’s aides, + but Sir David forwarded it by the hand of a trooper who got drunk and lost + it. That, says Lord Wellington, is the only parallel, so far as he is + aware, of the present case, with this difference, that whilst a common + trooper might so far fail to appreciate the importance of his mission, no + such lack of appreciation can excuse Captain Garfield.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” said Sir Terence, who had been bristling. “For a + moment I imagined that it was to be implied I had been as indiscreet in my + choice of a messenger as Sir David Baird.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Sir Terence. I merely repeated Lord Wellington’s words that you + may realise how deeply angered he is. If Garfield recovers from his wound + he will be tried by court-martial. He is under open arrest meanwhile, as + is his opponent in the duel—a Major Sykes of the 23rd Dragoons. That + they will both be broke is beyond doubt. But that is not all. This affair, + which might have had such grave consequences, coming so soon upon the + heels of Major Berkeley’s business, has driven Lord Wellington to a step + regarding which this letter will instruct you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence broke the seal. The letter, penned by a secretary, but bearing + Wellington’s own signature, ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “The bearer, Captain Stanhope, will inform you of the particulars of this + disgraceful business of Captain Garfield’s. The affair following so soon + upon that of Major Berkeley has determined me to make it clearly + understood to the officers in his Majesty’s service that they have been + sent to the Peninsula to fight the French and not each other or members of + the civilian population. While this campaign continues, and as long as I + am in charge of it, I am determined not to suffer upon any plea whatever + the abominable practice of duelling among those under my command. I desire + you to publish this immediately in general orders, enjoining upon officers + of all ranks without exception the necessity to postpone the settlement of + private quarrels at least until the close of this campaign. And to add + force to this injunction you will make it known that any infringement of + this order will be considered as a capital offence; that any officer + hereafter either sending or accepting a challenge will, if found guilty by + a general court-martial, be immediately shot.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence nodded slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said. “The measure is most wise, although I doubt if it + will be popular. But, then, unpopularity is the fate of wise measures. I + am glad the matter has not ended more seriously. The dispatches in + question, so far as I can recollect, were not of great urgency.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something more,” said Captain Stanhope. “The dispatches bore + signs of having been tampered with.” + </p> + <p> + “Tampered with?” It was a question from Tremayne, charged with + incredulity. “But who would have tampered with them?” + </p> + <p> + “There were signs, that is all. Garfield was taken to the house of the + parish priest, where he lay lost until he recovered sufficiently to + realise his position for himself. No doubt you will have a schedule of the + contents of the dispatch, Sir Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. It is in your possession, I think, Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne turned to his desk, and a brief search in one of its well-ordered + drawers brought to light an oblong strip of paper folded and endorsed. He + unfolded and spread it on Sir Terence’s table, whilst Captain Stanhope, + producing a note with which he came equipped, stooped to check off the + items. Suddenly he stopped, frowned, and finally placed his finger under + one of the lines of Tremayne’s schedule, carefully studying his own note + for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he said quietly at last. “What’s this?” And he read: “‘Note from + Lord Liverpool of reinforcements to be embarked for Lisbon in June or + July.’” He looked at the adjutant and the adjutant’s secretary. “That + would appear to be the most important document of all—indeed the + only document of any vital importance. And it was not included in the + dispatch as it reached Lord Wellington.” + </p> + <p> + The three looked gravely at one another in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a copy of the note, sir?” inquired the aide-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + “Not a copy—but a summary of its contents, the figures it contained, + are pencilled there on the margin,” Tremayne answered. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me, sir,” said Stanhope, and taking up a quill from the adjutant’s + table he rapidly copied the figures. “Lord Wellington must have this + memorandum as soon as possible. The rest, Sir Terence, is of course a + matter for yourself. You will know what to do. Meanwhile I shall report to + his lordship what has occurred. I had best set out at once.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will rest for an hour, and give my wife the pleasure of your + company at luncheon, I shall have a letter ready for Lord Wellington,” + replied Sir Terence. “Perhaps you’ll see to it, Tremayne,” he added, + without waiting for Captain Stanhope’s answer to an invitation which + amounted to a command. + </p> + <p> + Thus Stanhope was led away, and Sir Terence, all other matters forgotten + for the moment, sat down to write his letter. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day, after Captain Stanhope had taken his departure, the duty + fell to Tremayne of framing the general order and seeing to the dispatch + of a copy to each division. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said to Sir Terence, “who will be the first to break it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the fool who’s most anxious to be broke himself,” answered Sir + Terence. + </p> + <p> + There appeared to be reservations about it in Tremayne’s mind. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a devilish stringent regulation,” he criticised. + </p> + <p> + “But very salutary and very necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite.” Tremayne’s agreement was unhesitating. “But I shouldn’t care + to feel the restraint of it, and I thank heaven I have no enemy thirsting + for my blood.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence’s brow darkened. His face was turned away from his secretary. + “How can a man be confident of that?” he wondered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a clean conscience, I suppose,” laughed Tremayne, and he gave his + attention to his papers. + </p> + <p> + Frankness, honesty and light-heartedness rang so clear in the words that + they sowed in Sir Terence’s mind fresh doubts of the galling suspicion he + had been harbouring. + </p> + <p> + “Do you boast a clean conscience, eh, Ned?” he asked, not without a + lurking shame at this deliberate sly searching of the other’s mind. Yet he + strained his ears for the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Almost clean,” said Tremayne. “Temptation doesn’t stain when it’s + resisted, does it?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence trembled. But he controlled himself. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, now, that’s a question for the casuists. They right answer you that + it depends upon the temptation.” And he asked point-blank: “What’s + tempting you?” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was in a mood for confidences, and Sir Terence was his friend. + But he hesitated. His answer to the question was an irrelevance. + </p> + <p> + “It’s just hell to be poor, O’Moy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The adjutant turned to stare at him. Tremayne was sitting with his head + resting on one hand, the fingers thrusting through the crisp fair hair, + and there was gloom in his clear-cut face, a dullness in the usually keen + grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything on your mind?” quoth Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Temptation,” was the answer. “It’s an unpleasant thing to struggle + against.” + </p> + <p> + “But you spoke of poverty?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. If I weren’t poor I could put my fortunes to the test, and + make an end of the matter one way or the other.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. “Sure I hope I am the last man to force a confidence, + Ned,” said O’Moy. “But you certainly seem as if it would do you good to + confide.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne shook himself mentally. “I think we had better deal with the + matter of this dispatch that was tampered with at Penalva.” + </p> + <p> + “So we will, to be sure. But it can wait a minute.” Sir Terence pushed + back his chair, and rose. He crossed slowly to his secretary’s side. + “What’s on your mind, Ned?” he asked with abrupt solicitude, and Ned could + not suspect that it was the matter on Sir Terence’s own mind that was + urging him—but urging him hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne looked up with a rueful smile. “I thought you boasted + that you never forced a confidence.” And then he looked away. “Sylvia + Armytage tells me that she is thinking of returning to England.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the words seemed to Sir Terence a fresh irrelevance; another + attempt to change the subject. Then quite suddenly a light broke upon his + mind, shedding a relief so great and joyous that he sought to check it + almost in fear. + </p> + <p> + “It is more than she has told me,” he answered steadily. “But then, no + doubt, you enjoy her confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne flashed him a wry glance and looked away again. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said, and fetched a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “And is Sylvia the temptation, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was silent for a while, little dreaming how Sir Terence hung upon + his answer, how impatiently he awaited it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said at last. “Isn’t it obvious to any one?” And he grew + rhapsodical: “How can a man be daily in her company without succumbing to + her loveliness, to her matchless grace of body and of mind, without + perceiving that she is incomparable, peerless, as much above other women + as an angel perhaps might be above herself?” + </p> + <p> + Before his glum solemnity, and before something else that Tremayne could + not suspect, Sir Terence exploded into laughter. Of the immense and joyous + relief in it his secretary caught no hint; all he heard was its sheer + amusement, and this galled and shamed him. For no man cares to be laughed + at for such feelings as Tremayne had been led into betraying. + </p> + <p> + “You think it something to laugh at?” he said tartly. + </p> + <p> + “Laugh, is it?” spluttered Sir Terence. “God grant I don’t burst a + blood-vessel.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne reddened. “When you’ve indulged your humour, sir,” he said + stiffly, “perhaps you’ll consider the matter of this dispatch.” + </p> + <p> + But Sir Terence laughed more uproariously than ever. He came to stand + beside Tremayne, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’ll kill me, Ned!” he protested. “For God’s sake, not so glum. It’s + that makes ye ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you find me ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, then, it’s glad ye ought to be. By my soul, if Sylvia tempts you, + man, why the devil don’t ye just succumb and have done with it? She’s + handsome enough and well set up with her air of an Amazon, and she rides + uncommon straight, begad! Indeed it’s a broth of a girl she is in the + hunting-field, the ballroom, or at the breakfast-table, although riper + acquaintance may discover her not to be quite all that you imagine her at + present. Let your temptation lead you then, entirely, and good luck to + you, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you, O’Moy,” answered the captain, mollified a little by + the sympathy and good feeling peeping through the adjutant’s + boisterousness, “that poverty is just hell. It’s my poverty that’s in the + way.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that all? Then it’s thankful you should be that Sylvia Armytage + has got enough for two.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just it.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what?” + </p> + <p> + “The obstacle. I could marry a poor woman. But Sylvia—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you spoken to her?” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was indignant. “How do you suppose I could?” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll not have occurred to you that the lady may have feelings which + having aroused you ought to be considering?” + </p> + <p> + A wry smile and a shake of the head was Tremayne’s only answer; and then + Carruthers came in fresh from Lisbon, where he had been upon business + connected with the commissariat, and to Tremayne’s relief the subject was + perforce abandoned. + </p> + <p> + Yet he marvelled several times that day that the hilarity he should have + awakened in Sir Terence continued to cling to the adjutant, and that + despite the many vexatious matters claiming attention he should preserve + an irrepressible and almost boyish gaiety. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, however, the coming of Carruthers had brought the adjutant a + moment’s seriousness, and he reverted to the business of Captain Garfield. + When he had mentioned the missing note, Carruthers very properly became + grave. He was a short, stiffly built man with a round, good-humoured, + rather florid face. + </p> + <p> + “The matter must be probed at once, sir,” he ventured. “We know that we + move in a tangle of intrigues and espionage. But such a thing as this has + never happened before. Have you anything to go upon?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Stanhope gave us nothing,” said the adjutant. + </p> + <p> + “It would be best perhaps to get Grant to look into it,” said Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “If he is still in Lisbon,” said Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “I passed him in the street an hour ago,” replied Carruthers. + </p> + <p> + “Then by all means let a note be sent to him asking him if he will step up + to Monsanto as soon as he conveniently can. You might see to it, + Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE STIFLED QUARREL + </h2> + <p> + It was noon of the next day before Colonel Grant came to the house at + Monsanto from whose balcony floated the British flag, and before whose + portals stood a sentry in the tall bearskin of the grenadiers. + </p> + <p> + He found the adjutant alone in his room, and apologised for the delay in + responding to his invitation, pleading the urgency of other matters that + he had in hand. + </p> + <p> + “A wise enactment this of Lord Wellington’s,” was his next comment. “I + mean this prohibition of duelling. It may be resented by some of our young + bloods as an unwarrantable interference with their privileges, but it will + do a deal of good, and no one can deny that there is ample cause for the + measure.” + </p> + <p> + “It is on the subject of the cause that I’m wanting to consult you,” said + Sir Terence, offering his visitor a chair. “Have you been informed of the + details? No? Let me give you them.” And he related how the dispatch bore + signs of having been tampered with, and how the only document of any real + importance came to be missing from it. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant, sitting with his sabre across his knees, listened gravely + and thoughtfully. In the end he shrugged his shoulders, the keen hawk face + unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “The harm is done, and cannot very well be repaired. The information + obtained, no doubt on behalf of Massena, will by now be on its way to him. + Let us be thankful that the matter is not more grave, and thankful, too, + that you were able to supply a copy of Lord Liverpool’s figures. What do + you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take steps to discover the spy whose existence is disclosed by this + event.” + </p> + <p> + Colquhoun Grant smiled. “That is precisely the matter which has brought me + to Lisbon.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” Sir Terence was amazed. “You knew?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not that this had happened. But that the spy—or rather a + network of espionage—existed. We move here in a web of intrigue + wrought by ill-will, self-interest, vindictiveness and every form of + malice. Whilst the great bulk of the Portuguese people and their leaders + are loyally co-operating with us, there is a strong party opposing us + which would prefer even to see the French prevail. Of course you are aware + of this. The heart and brain of all this is—as I gather the + Principal Souza. Wellington has compelled his retirement from the + Government. But if by doing so he has restricted the man’s power for evil, + he has certainly increased his will for evil and his activities. + </p> + <p> + “You tell me that Garfield was cared for by the parish priest at Penalva. + There you are. Half the priesthood of the country are on Souza’s side, + since the Patriarch of Lisbon himself is little more than a tool of + Souza’s. What happens? This priest discovers that the British officer whom + he has so charitably put to bed in his house is the bearer of dispatches. + A loyal man would instantly have communicated with Marshal Beresford at + Thomar. This fellow, instead, advises the intriguers in Lisbon. The + captain’s dispatches are examined and the only document of real value is + abstracted. Of course it would be difficult to establish a case against + the priest, and it is always vexatious and troublesome to have dealings + with that class, as it generally means trouble with the peasantry. But the + case is as clear as crystal.” + </p> + <p> + “But the intriguers here? Can you not deal with them?” + </p> + <p> + “I have them under observation,” replied the colonel. “I already knew the + leaders, Souza’s lieutenants in Lisbon, and I can put my hand upon them at + any moment. If I have not already done so it is because I find it more + profitable to leave them at large; it is possible, indeed, that I may + never proceed to extremes against them. Conceive that they have enabled me + to seize La Fleche, the most dangerous, insidious and skilful of all + Napoleon’s agents. I found him at Redondo’s ball last week in the uniform + of a Portuguese major, and through him I was able to track down Souza’s + chief instrument—I discovered them closeted with him in one of the + card-rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn’t arrest them?” + </p> + <p> + “Arrest them! I apologised for my intrusion, and withdrew. La Fleche took + his leave of them. He was to have left Lisbon at dawn equipped with a + passport countersigned by yourself, my dear adjutant.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “A passport for Major Vieira of the Portuguese Cacadores. Do you remember + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Major Vieira!” Sir Terence frowned thoughtfully. Suddenly he recollected. + “But that was countersigned by me at the request of Count Samoval, who + represented himself a personal friend of the major’s.” + </p> + <p> + “So indeed he is. But the major in question was La Fleche nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + “And Samoval knew this?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant did not immediately answer the question. He preferred to + continue his narrative. “That night I had the false major arrested very + quietly. I have caused him to disappear for the present. His Lisbon + friends believe him to be on his way to Massena with the information they + no doubt supplied him. Massena awaits his return at Salamanca, and will + continue to wait. Thus when he fails to be seen or heard of there will be + a good deal of mystification on all sides, which is the proper state of + mind in which to place your opponents. Lord Liverpool’s figures, let me + add, were not among the interesting notes found upon him—possibly + because at that date they had not yet been obtained.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say that Samoval was aware of the man’s real identity?” insisted + Sir Terence, still incredulous. “Aware of it?” Colonel Grant laughed + shortly. “Samoval is Souza’s principal agent—the most dangerous man + in Lisbon and the most subtle. His sympathies are French through and + through.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence stared at him in frank amazement, in utter unbelief. “Oh, + impossible!” he ejaculated at last. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Samoval for the first time,” said Colonel Grant by way of answer, + “in Oporto at the time of Soult’s occupation. He did not call himself + Samoval just then, any more than I called myself Colquhoun Grant. He was + very active there in the French interest; I should indeed be more precise + and say in Bonaparte’s interest, for he was the man instrumental in + disclosing to Soult the Bourbon conspiracy which was undermining the + marshal’s army. You do not know, perhaps, that French sympathy runs in + Samoval’s family. You may not be aware that the Portuguese Marquis of + Alorna, who holds a command in the Emperor’s army, and is at present with + Massena at Salamanca, is Samoval’s cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” faltered Sir Terence, “Count Samoval has been a regular visitor + here for the past three months.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand,” said Grant coolly. “If I had known of it before I + should have warned you. But, as you are aware, I have been in Spain on + other business. You realise the danger of having such a man about the + place. Scraps of information—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that,” Sir Terence interrupted, “I can assure you that none + have fallen from my official table.” + </p> + <p> + “Never be too sure, Sir Terence. Matters here must ever be under + discussion. There are your secretaries and the ladies—and Samoval + has a great way with the women. What they know you may wager that he + knows.” + </p> + <p> + “They know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a great deal to say. Little odds and ends now; a hint at one + time; a word dropped at another; these things picked up naturally by + feminine curiosity and retailed thoughtlessly under Samoval’s charming + suasion and display of Britannic sympathies. And Samoval has the devil’s + own talent for bringing together the pieces of a puzzle. Take the lines + now: you may have parted with no details. But mention of them will surely + have been made in this household. However,” he broke off abruptly, “that + is all past and done with. I am as sure as you are that any real + indiscretions in this household are unimaginable, and so we may be + confident that no harm has yet been done. But you will gather from what I + have now told you that Samoval’s visits here are not a mere social waste + of time. That he comes, acquires familiarity and makes himself the friend + of the family with a very definite aim in view.” + </p> + <p> + “He does not come again,” said Sir Terence, rising. + </p> + <p> + “That is more than I should have ventured to suggest. But it is a very + wise resolve. It will need tact to carry it out, for Samoval is a man to + be handled carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll handle him carefully, devil a fear,” said Sir Terence. “You can + depend upon my tact.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant rose. “In this matter of Penalva, I will consider further. + But I do not think there is anything to be done now. The main thing is to + stop up the outlets through which information reaches the French, and that + is my chief concern. How is the stripping of the country proceeding now?” + </p> + <p> + “It was more active immediately after Souza left the Government. But the + last reports announce a slackening again.” + </p> + <p> + “They are at work in that, too, you see. Souza will not slumber while + there’s vengeance and self-interest to keep him awake.” And he held out + his hand to take his leave. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll stay to luncheon?” said Sir Terence. “It is about to be served.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + They descended, to find luncheon served already in the open under the + trellis vine, and the party consisted of Lady O’Moy, Miss Armytage, + Captain Tremayne, Major Carruthers, and Count Samoval, of whose presence + this was the adjutant’s first intimation. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact the Count had been at Monsanto for the past hour, the + first half of which he had spent most agreeably on the terrace with the + ladies. He had spoken so eulogistically of the genius of Lord Wellington + and the valour of the British soldier, and, particularly-of the Irish + soldier, that even Sylvia’s instinctive distrust and dislike of him had + been lulled a little for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “And they must prevail,” he had exclaimed in a glow of enthusiasm, his + dark eyes flashing. “It is inconceivable that they should ever yield to + the French, although the odds of numbers may lie so heavily against them.” + </p> + <p> + “Are the odds of numbers so heavy?” said Lady O’Moy in surprise, opening + wide those almost childish eyes of hers. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! anything from three to five to one. Ah, but why should we despond + on that account?” And his voice vibrated with renewed confidence. “The + country is a difficult one, easy to defend, and Lord Wellington’s genius + will have made the best of it. There are, for example, the fortifications + at Torres Vedras.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes! I have heard of them. Tell me about them, Count.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you about them, dear lady? Shall I carry perfumes to the rose? What + can I tell you that you do not know so much better than myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I know nothing. Sir Terence is ridiculously secretive,” she + assured him, with a little frown of petulance. She realised that her + husband did not treat her as an intelligent being to be consulted upon + these matters. She was his wife, and he had no right to keep secrets from + her. In fact she said so. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed no,” Samoval agreed. “And I find it hard to credit that it should + be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you forget,” said Sylvia, “that these secrets are not Sir Terence’s + own. They are the secrets of his office.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” said the unabashed Samoval. “But if I were Sir Terence I + should desire above all to allay my wife’s natural anxiety. For I am sure + you must be anxious, dear Lady O’Moy.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” she agreed, whose anxieties never transcended the fit of her + gowns or the suitability of a coiffure. “But Terence is like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible!” the Count protested, and raised his dark eyes to heaven as + if invoking its punishment upon so unnatural a husband. “Do you tell me + that you have never so much as seen the plans of these fortifications?” + </p> + <p> + “The plans, Count!” She almost laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said. “I dare swear then that you do not even know of their + existence.” He was jocular now. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that she does not,” said Sylvia, who instinctively felt that + the conversation was following an undesirable course. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are wrong,” she was assured. “I saw them once, a week ago, in + Sir Terence’s room.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how would you know them if you saw them?” quoth Sylvia, seeking to + cover what might be an indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + “Because they bore the name: ‘Lines of Torres Vedras.’ I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “And this unsympathetic Sir Terence did not explain them to you?” laughed + Samoval. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, he did not.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact, I could swear that he locked them away from you at once?” the + Count continued on a jocular note. + </p> + <p> + “Not at once. But he certainly locked them away soon after, and whilst I + was still there.” + </p> + <p> + “In your place, then,” said Samoval, ever on the same note of banter, “I + should have been tempted to steal the key.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so easily done,” she assured him. “It never leaves his person. He + wears it on a gold chain round his neck.” + </p> + <p> + “What, always?” + </p> + <p> + “Always, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad,” protested Samoval. “Too bad, indeed. What, then, should you + have done, Miss Armytage?” + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to imagine that he was drawing information from them, so + bantering and frivolous was his manner; more difficult still to conceive + that he had obtained any. Yet you will observe that he had been placed in + possession of two facts: that the plans of the lines of Torres Vedras were + kept locked up in Sir Terence’s own room—in the strong-box, no doubt—and + that Sir Terence always carried the key on a gold chain worn round his + neck. + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage laughed. “Whatever I might do, I should not be guilty of + prying into matters that my husband kept hidden.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you admit a husband’s right to keep matters hidden from his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Samoval bowed to her, “your future husband is to be envied on yet + another count.” + </p> + <p> + And thus the conversation drifted, Samoval conceiving that he had obtained + all the information of which Lady O’Moy was possessed, and satisfied that + he had obtained all that for the moment he required. How to proceed now + was a more difficult matter, to be very seriously considered—how to + obtain from Sir Terence the key in question, and reach the plans so + essential to Marshal Massena. + </p> + <p> + He was at table with them, as you know, when Sir Terence and Colonel Grant + arrived. He and the colonel were presented to each other, and bowed with a + gravity quite cordial on the part of Samoval, who was by far the more + subtle dissembler of the two. Each knew the other perfectly for what he + was; yet each was in complete ignorance of the extent of the other’s + knowledge of himself; and certainly neither betrayed anything by his + manner. + </p> + <p> + At table the conversation was led naturally enough by Tremayne to + Wellington’s general order against duelling. This was inevitable when you + consider that it was a topic of conversation that morning at every table + to which British officers sat down. Tremayne spoke of the measure in terms + of warm commendation, thereby provoking a sharp disagreement from Samoval. + The deep and almost instinctive hostility between these two men, which had + often been revealed in momentary flashes, was such that it must invariably + lead them to take opposing sides in any matter admitting of contention. + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion it is a most arbitrary and degrading enactment,” said + Samoval. “I say so without hesitation, notwithstanding my profound + admiration and respect for Lord Wellington and all his measures.” + </p> + <p> + “Degrading?” echoed Grant, looking across at him. “In what can it be + degrading, Count?” + </p> + <p> + “In that it reduces a gentleman to the level of the clod,” was the prompt + answer. “A gentleman must have his quarrels, however sweet his + disposition, and a means must be afforded him of settling them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye can always thrash an impudent fellow,” opined the adjutant. + </p> + <p> + “Thrash?” echoed Samoval. His sensitive lip curled in disdain. “To use + your hands upon a man!” He shuddered in sheer disgust. “To one of my + temperament it would be impossible, and men of my temperament are + plentiful, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you were thrashed yourself?” Tremayne asked him, and the light in + his grey eyes almost hinted at a dark desire to be himself the + executioner. + </p> + <p> + Samoval’s dark, handsome eyes considered the captain steadily. “To be + thrashed myself?” he questioned. “My dear Captain, the idea of having + hands laid upon me, soiling me, brutalising me, is so nauseating, so + repugnant, that I assure you I should not hesitate to shoot the man who + did it just as I should shoot any other wild beast that attacked me. + Indeed the two instances are exactly parallel, and my country’s courts + would uphold in such a case the justice of my conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you may thank God,” said O’Moy, “that you are not under British + jurisdiction.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” snapped Samoval, to make an instant recovery: “at least so far as + the matter is concerned.” And he elaborated: “I assure you, sirs, it will + be an evil day for the nobility of any country when its Government enacts + against the satisfaction that one gentleman has the right to demand from + another who offends him.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t the conversation rather too bloodthirsty for a luncheon-table?” + wondered Lady O’Moy. And tactlessly she added, thinking with flattery to + mollify Samoval and cool his obvious heat: “You are yourself such a famous + swordsman, Count.” + </p> + <p> + And then Tremayne’s dislike of the man betrayed him into his deplorable + phrase. + </p> + <p> + “At the present time Portugal is in urgent need of her famous swordsmen to + go against the French and not to increase the disorders at home.” + </p> + <p> + A silence complete and ominous followed the rash words, and Samoval, white + to the lips, pondered the imperturbable captain with a baleful eye. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said at last, speaking slowly and softly, and picking his + words with care, “I think that is innuendo. I should be relieved, Captain + Tremayne, to hear you say that it is not.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was prompt to give him the assurance. “No innuendo at all. A + plain statement of fact.” + </p> + <p> + “The innuendo I suggested lay in the application of the phrase. Do you + make it personal to myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said Sir Terence, cutting in and speaking sharply. “What + an assumption!” + </p> + <p> + “I am asking Captain Tremayne,” the Count insisted, with grim firmness, + notwithstanding his deferential smile to Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “I spoke quite generally, sir,” Tremayne assured him, partly under the + suasion of Sir Terence’s interposition, partly out of consideration for + the ladies, who were looking scared. “Of course, if you choose to take it + to yourself, sir, that is a matter for your own discretion. I think,” he + added, also with a smile, “that the ladies find the topic tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we may have the pleasure of continuing it when they are no longer + present.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as you please,” was the indifferent answer. “Carruthers, may I + trouble you to pass the salt? Lady O’Callaghan was complaining the other + night of the abuse of salt in Portuguese cookery. It is an abuse I have + never yet detected.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t conceive Lady O’Callaghan complaining of too much salt in + anything, begad,” quoth O’Moy, with a laugh. “If you had heard the story + she told me about—” + </p> + <p> + “Terence, my dear!” his wife checked him, her fine brows raised, her stare + frigid. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, we go from bad to worse,” said Carruthers. “Will you try to + improve the tone of the conversation, Miss Armytage? It stands in urgent + need of it.” + </p> + <p> + With a general laugh, breaking the ice of the restraint that was in danger + of settling about the table, a semblance of ease was restored, and this + was maintained until the end of the repast. At last the ladies rose, and, + leaving the men at table, they sauntered off towards the terrace. But + under the archway Sylvia checked her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Una,” she said gravely, “you had better call Captain Tremayne and take + him away for the present.” + </p> + <p> + Una’s eyes opened wide. “Why?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage was almost impatient with her. “Didn’t you see? Resentment + is only slumbering between those men. It will break out again now that we + have left them unless you can get Captain Tremayne away.” + </p> + <p> + Una continued to look at her cousin, and then, her mind fastening ever + upon the trivial to the exclusion of the important, her glance became + arch. “For whom is your concern? For Count Samoval or Ned?” she inquired, + and added with a laugh: “You needn’t answer me. It is Ned you are afraid + for.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certainly not afraid for him,” was the reply on a faint note of + indignation. She had reddened slightly. “But I should not like to see + Captain Tremayne or any other British officer embroiled in a duel. You + forget Lord Wellington’s order which they were discussing, and the + consequences of infringing it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy became scared. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t imagine—” + </p> + <p> + Sylvia spoke quickly: “I am certain that unless you take Captain Tremayne + away, and at once, there will! be serious trouble.” + </p> + <p> + And now behold Lady O’Moy thrown into a state of alarm that bordered upon + terror. She had more reason than Sylvia could dream, more reason she + conceived than Sylvia herself, to wish to keep Captain Tremayne out of + trouble just at present. Instantly, agitatedly, she turned and called to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Ned!” floated her silvery voice across the enclosed garden. And again: + “Ned! I want you at once, please.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne rose. Grant was talking briskly at the time, his + intention being to cover Tremayne’s retreat, which he himself desired. + Count Samoval’s smouldering eyes were upon the captain, and full of + menace. But he could not be guilty of the rudeness of interrupting Grant + or of detaining Captain Tremayne when a lady called him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE CHALLENGE + </h2> + <p> + Rebuke awaited Captain Tremayne at the hands of Lady O’Moy, and it came as + soon as they were alone together sauntering in the thicket of pine and + cork-oak on the slope of the hill below the terrace. + </p> + <p> + “How thoughtless of you, Ned, to provoke Count Samoval at such a time as + this!” + </p> + <p> + “Did I provoke him? I thought it was the Count himself who was provoking.” + Tremayne spoke lightly. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose anything were to happen to you? You know the man’s dreadful + reputation.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne looked at her kindly. This apparent concern for himself touched + him. “My dear Una, I hope I can take care of myself, even against so + formidable a fellow; and after all a man must take his chances a soldier + especially.” + </p> + <p> + “But what of Dick?” she cried. “Do you forget that he is depending + entirely upon you—that if you should fail him he will be lost?” And + there was something akin to indignation in the protesting eyes she turned + upon him. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Tremayne was so amazed that he was at a loss for an answer. + Then he smiled. Indeed his inclination was to laugh outright. The frank + admission that her concern which he had fondly imagined to be for himself + was all for Dick betrayed a state of mind that was entirely typical of + Una. Never had she been able to command more than one point of view of any + question, and that point of view invariably of her own interest. All her + life she had been accustomed to sacrifices great and small made by others + on her own behalf, until she had come to look upon such sacrifices her + absolute right. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you reminded me,” he said with an irony that never touched her. + “You may depend upon me to be discreetness itself, at least until after + Dick has been safely shipped.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Ned. You are very good to me.” They sauntered a little way in + silence. Then: “When does Captain Glennie sail?” she asked him. “Is it + decided yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have just heard from him that the Telemachus will put to sea on + Sunday morning at two o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “At two o’clock in the morning! What an uncomfortable hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Tides, as King Canute discovered, are beyond mortal control. The + Telemachus goes out with the ebb. And, after all, for our purposes surely + no hour could be more suitable. If I come for Dick at midnight tomorrow + that will just give us time to get him snugly aboard before she sails. I + have made all arrangements with Glennie. He believes Dick to be what he + has represented himself—one of Bearsley’s overseers named Jenkinson, + who is a friend of mine and who must be got out of the country quietly. + Dick should thank his luck for a good deal. My chief anxiety was lest his + presence here should be discovered by any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond Bridget not a soul knows that he is here not even Sylvia.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been the soul of discreetness.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I?” she purred, delighted to have him discover a virtue so + unusual in her. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter they discussed details; or, rather, Tremayne discussed them. He + would come up to Monsanto at twelve o’clock to-morrow night in a curricle + in which he would drive Dick down to the river at a point where a boat + would be waiting to take him out to the Telemachus. She must see that Dick + was ready in time. The rest she could safely leave to him. He would come + in through the official wing of the building. The guard would admit him + without question, accustomed to seeing him come and go at all hours, nor + would it be remarked that he was accompanied by a man in civilian dress + when he departed. Dick was to be let down from her ladyship’s balcony to + the quadrangle by a rope ladder with which Tremayne would come equipped, + having procured it for the purpose from the Telemachus. + </p> + <p> + She hung upon his arm, overwhelming him now with her gratitude, her + parasol sheltering them both from the rays of the sun as they emerged from + the thicket intro the meadowland in full view of the terrace where Count + Samoval and Sir Terence were at that moment talking earnestly together. + </p> + <p> + You will remember that O’Moy had undertaken to provide that Count + Samoval’s visits to Monsanto should be discontinued. About this task he + had gone with all the tact of which he had boasted himself master to + Colquhoun Grant. You shall judge of the tact for yourself. No sooner had + the colonel left for Lisbon, and Carruthers to return to his work, than, + finding himself alone with the Count, Sir Terence considered the moment a + choice one in which to broach the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I take it ye’re fond of walking, Count,” had been his singular opening + move. They had left the table by now, and were sauntering together on the + terrace. + </p> + <p> + “Walking?” said Samoval. “I detest it.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that so? Well, well! Of course it’s not so very far from your + place at Bispo.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than half-a-league, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” said O’Moy. “Half-a-league there, and half-a-league back: a + league. It’s nothing at all, of course; yet for a gentleman who detests + walking it’s a devilish long tramp for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “For nothing?” Samoval checked and looked at his host in faint surprise. + Then he smiled very affably. “But you must not say that, Sir Terence. I + assure you that the pleasure of seeing yourself and Lady O’Moy cannot be + spoken of as nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good.” Sir Terence was the very quintessence of courtliness, + of concern for the other. “But if there were not that pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, of course, it would be different.” Samoval was beginning to be + slightly intrigued. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Sir Terence. “That’s just what I’m meaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what you’re meaning? But, my dear General, you are assuming + circumstances which fortunately do not exist.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at present, perhaps. But they might.” + </p> + <p> + Again Samoval stood still and looked at O’Moy. He found something in the + bronzed, rugged face that was unusually sardonic. The blue eyes seemed to + have become hard, and yet there were wrinkles about their corners + suggestive of humour that might be mockery. The Count stiffened; but + beyond that he preserved his outward calm whilst confessing that he did + not understand Sir Terence’s meaning. + </p> + <p> + “It’s this way,” said Sir Terence. “I’ve noticed that ye’re not looking so + very well lately, Count.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? You think that?” The words were mechanical. The dark eyes + continued to scrutinise that bronzed face suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “I do, and it’s sorry I am to see it. But I know what it is. It’s this + walking backwards and forwards between here and Bispo that’s doing the + mischief. Better give it up, Count. Better not come toiling up here any + more. It’s not good for your health. Why, man, ye’re as white as a ghost + this minute.” + </p> + <p> + He was indeed, having perceived at last the insult intended. To be denied + the house at such a time was to checkmate his designs, to set a term upon + his crafty and subtle espionage, precisely in the season when he hoped to + reap its harvest. But his chagrin sprang not at all from that. His cold + anger was purely personal. He was a gentleman—of the fine flower, as + he would have described himself—of the nobility of Portugal; and + that a probably upstart Irish soldier—himself, from Samoval’s point + of view, a guest in that country—should deny him his house, and + choose such terms of ill-considered jocularity in which to do it, was an + affront beyond all endurance. + </p> + <p> + For a moment passion blinded him, and it was only by an effort that he + recovered and kept his self-control. But keep it he did. You may trust + your practised duellist for that when he comes face to face with the + necessity to demand satisfaction. And soon the mist of passion clearing + from his keen wits, he sought swiftly for a means to fasten the quarrel + upon Sir Terence in Sir Terence’s own coin of galling mockery. Instantly + he found it. Indeed it was not very far to seek. O’Moy’s jealousy, which + was almost a byword, as we know, had been apparent more than once to + Samoval. Remembering it now, it discovered to him at once Sir Terence’s + most vulnerable spot, and cunningly Samoval proceeded to gall him there. + </p> + <p> + A smile spread gradually over his white face—a smile of immeasurable + malice. + </p> + <p> + “I am having a very interesting and instructive morning in this atmosphere + of Irish boorishness,” said he. “First Captain Tremayne—” + </p> + <p> + “Now don’t be after blaming old Ireland for Tremayne’s shortcomings. + Tremayne’s just a clumsy mannered Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to know there is a distinction. Indeed I might have perceived + it for myself. In motives, of course, that distinction is great indeed, + and I hope that I am not slow to discover it, and in your case to excuse + it. I quite understand and even sympathise with your feelings, General.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that now,” said Sir Terence, who had understood nothing of + all this. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” the Count pursued on a smooth, level note of amiability, + “when a man, himself no longer young, commits the folly of taking a young + and charming wife, he is to be forgiven when a natural anxiety drives him + to lengths which in another might be resented.” He bowed before the + empurpling Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re a damned coxcomb, it seems,” was the answering roar. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you would assume it. It was to be expected. I condone it with + the rest. And because I condone it, because I sympathise with what in a + man of your age and temperament must amount to an affliction, I hasten to + assure you upon my honour that so far as I am concerned there are no + grounds for your anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + “And who the devil asks for your assurances? It’s stark mad ye are to + suppose that I ever needed them.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you must say that,” Samoval insisted, with a confident and + superior smile. He shook his head, his expression one of amused sorrow. + “Sir Terence, you have knocked at the wrong door. You are youthful at + least in your impulsiveness, but you are surely as blind as old Pantaloon + in the comedy or you would see where your industry would be better + employed in shielding your wife’s honour and your own.” + </p> + <p> + Goaded to fury, his blue eyes aflame now with passion, Sir Terence + considered the sleek and subtle gentleman before him, and it was in that + moment that the Count’s subtlety soared to its finest heights. In a flash + of inspiration he perceived the advantages to be drawn by himself from + conducting this quarrel to extremes. + </p> + <p> + This is not mere idle speculation. Knowledge of the real motives actuating + him rests upon the evidence of a letter which Samoval was to write that + same evening to La Fleche—afterwards to be discovered—wherein + he related what had passed, how deliberately he had steered the matter, + and what he meant to do. His object was no longer the punishing of an + affront. That would happen as a mere incident, a thing done, as it were, + in passing. His real aim now was to obtain the keys of the adjutant’s + strong-box, which never left Sir Terence’s person, and so become possessed + of the plans of the lines of Torres Vedras. When you consider in the light + of this the manner in which Samoval proceeded now you will admire with me + at once the opportunism and the subtlety of the man. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be after telling me exactly what you mean,” Sir Terence had said. + </p> + <p> + It was in that moment that Tremayne and Lady O’Moy came arm in arm into + the open on the hill-side, half-a-mile away—very close and + confidential. They came most opportunely to the Count’s need, and he flung + out a hand to indicate them to Sir Terence, a smile of pity on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You need but to look to take the answer for yourself,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence looked, and laughed. He knew the secret of Ned Tremayne’s + heart and could laugh now with relish at that which hitherto had left him + darkly suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “And who shall blame Lady O’Moy?” Count Samoval pursued. “A lady so + charming and so courted must seek her consolation for the almost unnatural + union Fate has imposed upon her. Captain Tremayne is of her own age, + convenient to her hand, and for an Englishman not ill-looking.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at O’Moy with insolent compassion, and O’Moy, losing all his + self-control, struck him slapped him resoundingly upon the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re a dirty liar, Samoval, a muck-rake,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Samoval stepped back, breathing hard, one cheek red, the other white. Yet + by a miracle he still preserved his self-control. + </p> + <p> + “I have proved my courage too often,” he said, “to be under the necessity + of killing you for this blow. Since my honour is safe I will not take + advantage of your overwrought condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye’ll take advantage of it whether ye like it or not,” blazed Sir Terence + at him. “I mean you to take advantage of it. D’ ye think I’ll suffer any + man to cast a slur upon Lady O’Moy? I’ll be sending my friends to wait on + you to-day, Count; and—by God!—Tremayne himself shall be one + of them.” + </p> + <p> + Thus did the hot-headed fellow deliver himself into the hands of his + enemy. Nor was he warned when he saw the sudden gleam in Samoval’s dark + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said the Count. It was a little exclamation of wicked satisfaction. + “You are offering me a challenge, then?” + </p> + <p> + “If I may make so bold. And as I’ve a mind to shoot you dead—” + </p> + <p> + “Shoot, did you say?” Samoval interrupted gently. + </p> + <p> + “I said ‘shoot’—and it shall be at ten paces, or across a + handkerchief, or any damned distance you please.” + </p> + <p> + The Count shook his head. He sneered. “I think not—not shoot.” And + he waved the notion aside with a hand white and slender as a woman’s. + “That is too English, or too Irish. The pistol, I mean—appropriately + a fool’s weapon.” And he explained himself, explained at last his + extraordinary forbearance under a blow. “If you think I have practised the + small-sword every day of my life for ten years to suffer myself to be shot + at like a rabbit in the end—ho, really!” He laughed aloud. “You have + challenged me, I think, Sir Terence. Because I feared the predilection you + have discovered, I was careful to wait until the challenge came from you. + The choice of weapons lies, I think, with me. I shall instruct my friends + to ask for swords.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry a difference will it make to me,” said Sir Terence. “Anything from + a horsewhip to a howitzer.” And then recollection descending like a cold + hand upon him chilled his hot rage, struck the fine Irish arrogance all + out of him, and left him suddenly limp. “My God!” he said, and it was + almost a groan. He detained Samoval, who had already turned to depart. “A + moment, Count,” he cried. “I—I had forgotten. There is the general + order—Lord Wellington’s enactment.” + </p> + <p> + “Awkward, of course,” said Samoval, who had never for a moment been + oblivious of that enactment, and who had been carefully building upon it. + “But you should have considered it before committing yourself so + irrevocably.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence steadied himself. He recovered his truculence. “Irrevocable or + not, it will just have to be revocable. The meeting’s impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the impossibility. I am not surprised you should shelter + yourself behind an enactment; but you will remember this enactment does + not apply to me, who am not a soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “But it applies to me, who am not only a soldier, but the Adjutant-General + here, the man chiefly responsible for seeing the order carried out. It + would be a fine thing if I were the first to disregard it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it is too late. You have disregarded it already, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “The letter of the law is against sending or receiving a challenge, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy was distracted. “Samoval,” he said, drawing himself up, “I will + admit that I have been a fool. I will apologise to you for the blow and + for the word that accompanied it.” + </p> + <p> + “The apology would imply that my statement was a true one and that you + recognised it. If you mean that—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean nothing of the kind. Damme! I’ve a mind to horsewhip you, and + leave it at that. D’ ye think I want to face a firing party on your + account?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think there is the remotest likelihood of any such contingency,” + replied Samoval. + </p> + <p> + But O’Moy went headlong on. “And another thing. Where will I be finding a + friend to meet your friends? Who will dare to act for me in view of that + enactment?” + </p> + <p> + The Count considered. He was grave now. “Of course that is a difficulty,” + he admitted, as if he perceived it now for the first time. “Under the + circumstances, Sir Terence, and entirely to accommodate you, I might + consent to dispense with seconds.” + </p> + <p> + “Dispense with seconds?” Sir Terence was horrified at the suggestion. “You + know that that is irregular—that a charge of murder would lie + against the survivor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite so. But it is for your own convenience that I suggest it, + though I appreciate your considerate concern on the score of what may + happen to me afterwards should it come to be known that I was your + opponent.” + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards? After what?” + </p> + <p> + “After I have killed you.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it like that?” cried O’Moy, his countenance inflaming again, his + mind casting all prudence to the winds. + </p> + <p> + It followed, of course, that without further thought for anything but the + satisfaction of his rage Sir Terence became as wax in the hands of + Samoval’s desires. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you suggest that we meet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “There is my place at Bispo. We should be private in the gardens there. As + for time, the sooner the better, though for secrecy’s sake we had better + meet at night. Shall we say at midnight?” + </p> + <p> + But Sir Terence would agree to none of this. + </p> + <p> + “To-night is out of the question for me. I have an engagement that will + keep me until late. To-morrow night, if you will, I shall be at your + service.” And because he did not trust Samoval he added, as Samoval + himself had almost reckoned: “But I should prefer not to come to Bispo. I + might be seen going or returning.” + </p> + <p> + “Since there are no such scruples on my side, I am ready to come to you + here if you prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + “It would suit me better.” + </p> + <p> + “Then expect me promptly at midnight to-morrow, provided that you can + arrange to admit me without my being seen. You will perceive my reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “Those gates will be closed,” said O’Moy, indicating the now gaping + massive doors that closed the archway at night. “But if you knock I shall + be waiting for you, and I will admit you by the wicket.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent,” said Samoval suavely. “Then—until to-morrow night, + General.” He bowed with almost extravagant submission, and turning walked + sharply away, energy and suppleness in every line of his slight figure, + leaving Sir Terence to the unpleasant, almost desperate, thoughts that + reflection must usher in as his anger faded. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE DUEL + </h2> + <p> + It was a time of stress and even of temptation for Sir Terence. Honour and + pride demanded that he should keep the appointment made with Samoval; + common sense urged him at all costs to avoid it. His frame of mind, you + see, was not at all enviable. At moments he would consider his position as + adjutant-general, the enactment against duelling, the irregularity of the + meeting arranged, and, consequently, the danger in which he stood on every + score; at others he could think of nothing but the unpardonable affront + that had been offered him and the venomously insulting manner in which it + had been offered, and his rage welled up to blot out every consideration + other than that of punishing Samoval. + </p> + <p> + For two days and a night he was a sort of shuttlecock tossed between these + alternating moods, and he was still the same when he paced the quadrangle + with bowed head and hands clasped behind him awaiting Samoval at a few + minutes before twelve of the following night. The windows that looked down + from the four sides of that enclosed garden were all in darkness. The + members of the household had withdrawn over an hour ago and were asleep by + now. The official quarters were closed. The rising moon had just mounted + above the eastern wing and its white light fell upon the upper half of the + facade of the residential site. The quadrangle itself remained plunged in + gloom. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence, pacing there, was considering the only definite conclusion he + had reached. If there were no way even now of avoiding this duel, at least + it must remain secret. Therefore it could not take place here in the + enclosed garden of his own quarters, as he had so rashly consented. It + should be fought upon neutral ground, where the presence of the body of + the slain would not call for explanations by the survivor. + </p> + <p> + From distant Lisbon on the still air came softly the chimes of midnight, + and immediately there was a sharp rap upon the little door set in one of + the massive gates that closed the archway. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence went to open the wicket, and Samoval stepped quickly over the + sill. He was wrapped in a dark cloak, a broad-brimmed hat obscured his + face. Sir Terence closed the door again. The two men bowed to each other + in silence, and as Samoval’s cloak fell open he produced a pair of + duelling-swords swathed together in a skin of leather. + </p> + <p> + “You are very punctual, sir,” said O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall never be so discourteous as to keep an opponent waiting. + It is a thing of which I have never yet been guilty,” replied Samoval, + with deadly smoothness in that reminder of his victorious past. He stepped + forward and looked about the quadrangle. “I am afraid the moon will + occasion us some delay,” he said. “It were perhaps better to wait some + five or ten minutes, by then the light in here should have improved.” + </p> + <p> + “We can avoid the delay by stepping out into the open,” said Sir Terence. + “Indeed it is what I had to suggest in any case. There are inconveniences + here which you may have overlooked.” + </p> + <p> + But Samoval, who had purposes to serve of which this duel was but a + preliminary, was of a very different mind. + </p> + <p> + “We are quite private here, your household being abed,” he answered, + “whilst outside one can never be sure even at this hour of avoiding + witnesses and interruption. Then, again, the turf is smooth as a table on + that patch of lawn, and the ground well known to both of us; that, I can + assure you, is a very necessary condition in the dark and one not to be + found haphazard in the open.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is yet another consideration, sir. I prefer that we engage on + neutral ground, so that the survivor shall not be called upon for + explanations that might be demanded if we fought here.” + </p> + <p> + Even in the gloom Sir Terence caught the flash of Samoval’s white teeth as + he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You trouble yourself unnecessarily on my account,” was the smoothly + ironic answer. “No one has seen me come, and no one is likely to see me + depart.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure that no one shall, by God,” snapped O’Moy, stung by the + sly insolence of the other’s assurance. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we get to work, then?” Samoval invited. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re set on dying here, I suppose I must be after humouring you, and + make the best of it. As soon as you please, then.” O’Moy was very fierce. + </p> + <p> + They stepped to the patch of lawn in the middle of the quadrangle, and + there Samoval threw off altogether his cloak and hat. He was closely + dressed in black, which in that light rendered him almost invisible. Sir + Terence, less practised and less calculating in these matters, wore an + undress uniform, the red coat of which showed greyish. Samoval observed + this rather with contempt than with satisfaction in the advantage it + afforded him. Then he removed the swathing from the swords, and, crossing + them, presented the hilts to Sir Terence. The adjutant took one and the + Count retained the other, which he tested, thrashing the air with it so + that it hummed like a whip. That done, however, he did not immediately + fall on. + </p> + <p> + “In a few minutes the moon will be more obliging,” he suggested. “If you + would prefer to wait—” + </p> + <p> + But it occurred to Sir Terence that in the gloom the advantage might lie + slightly with himself, since the other’s superior sword-play would perhaps + be partly neutralised. He cast a last look round at the dark windows. + </p> + <p> + “I find it light enough,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Samoval’s reply was instantaneous. “On guard, then,” he cried, and on the + words, without giving Sir Terence so much as time to comply with the + invitation, he whirled his point straight and deadly at the greyish + outline of his opponent’s body. But a ray of moonlight caught the blade + and its livid flash gave Sir Terence warning of the thrust so + treacherously delivered. He saved himself by leaping backwards—just + saved himself with not an inch to spare—and threw up his blade to + meet the thrust. + </p> + <p> + “Ye murderous villain,” he snarled under his breath, as steel ground on + steel, and he flung forward to the attack. + </p> + <p> + But from the gloom came a little laugh to answer him, and his angry lunge + was foiled by an enveloping movement that ended in a ripost. With that + they settled down to it, Sir Terence in a rage upon which that assassin + stroke had been fresh fuel; the Count cool and unhurried, delaying until + the moonlight should have crept a little farther, so as to enable him to + make quite sure that his stroke when delivered should be final. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he pressed Sir Terence towards the side where the moonlight + would strike first, until they were fighting close under the windows of + the residential wing, Sir Terence with his back to them, Samoval facing + them. It was Fate that placed them so, the Fate that watched over Sir + Terence even now when he felt his strength failing him, his sword arm + turning to lead under the strain of an unwonted exercise. He knew himself + beaten, realised the dexterous ease, the masterly economy of vigour and + the deadly sureness of his opponent’s play. He knew that he was at the + mercy of Samoval; he was even beginning to wonder why the Count should + delay to make an end of a situation of which he was so completely master. + And then, quite suddenly, even as he was returning thanks that he had + taken the precaution of putting all his affairs in order, something + happened. + </p> + <p> + A light showed; it flared up suddenly, to be as suddenly extinguished, and + it had its source in the window of Lady O’Moy’s dressing-room, which + Samoval was facing. + </p> + <p> + That flash drawing off the Count’s eyes for one instant, and leaving them + blinded for another, had revealed him clearly at the same time to Sir + Terence. Sir Terence’s blade darted in, driven by all that was left of his + spent strength, and Samoval, his eyes unseeing, in that moment had fumbled + widely and failed to find the other’s steel until he felt it sinking + through his body, searing him from breast to back. + </p> + <p> + His arms sank to his sides quite nervelessly. He uttered a faint + exclamation of astonishment, almost instantly interrupted by a cough. He + swayed there a moment, the cough increasing until it choked him. Then, + suddenly limp, he pitched forward upon his face, and lay clawing and + twitching at Sir Terence’s feet. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence himself, scarcely realising what had taken place, for the + whole thing had happened within the time of a couple of heart-beats, stood + quite still, amazed and awed, in a half-crouching attitude, looking down + at the body of the fallen man. And then from above, ringing upon the + deathly stillness, he caught a sibilant whisper: + </p> + <p> + “What was that? ‘Sh!” + </p> + <p> + He stepped back softly, and flattened himself instinctively against the + wall; thence profoundly intrigued and vaguely alarmed on several scores he + peered up at the windows of his wife’s room whence the sound had come, + whence the sudden light had come which—as he now realised—had + given him the victory in that unequal contest. Looking up at the balcony + in whose shadow he stood concealed, he saw two figures there—his + wife’s and another’s—and at the same time he caught sight of + something black that dangled from the narrow balcony, and peered more + closely to discover a rope ladder. + </p> + <p> + He felt his skin roughening, bristling like a dog’s; he was conscious of + being cold from head to foot, as if the flow of his blood had been + suddenly arrested; and a sense of sickness overcame him. And then to turn + that horrible doubt of his into still more horrible certainty came a man’s + voice, subdued, yet not so subdued but that he recognised it for Ned + Tremayne’s. + </p> + <p> + “There’s some one lying there. I can make out the figure.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go down! For pity’s sake, come back. Come back and wait, Ned. If + any one should come and find you we shall be ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Thus hoarsely whispering, vibrating with terror, the voice of his wife + reached O’Moy, to confirm him the unsuspecting blind cuckold that Samoval + had dubbed him to his face, for which Samoval—warning the guilty + pair with his last breath even as he had earlier so mockingly warned Sir + Terence—had coughed up his soul on the turf of that enclosed garden. + </p> + <p> + Crouching there for a moment longer, a man bereft of movement and of + reason, stood O’Moy, conscious only of pain, in an agony of mind and heart + that at one and the same time froze his blood and drew the sweat from his + brow. + </p> + <p> + Then he was for stepping out into the open, and, giving flow to the rage + and surging violence that followed, calling down the man who had + dishonoured him and slaying him there under the eyes of that trull who had + brought him to this shame. But he controlled the impulse, or else Satan + controlled it for him. That way, whispered the Tempter, was too straight + and simple. He must think. He must have time to readjust his mind to the + horrible circumstances so suddenly revealed. + </p> + <p> + Very soft and silently, keeping well within the shadow of the wall, he + sidled to the door which he had left ajar. Soundlessly he pushed it open, + passed in and as soundlessly closed it again. For a moment he stood + leaning heavily against its timbers, his breath coming in short panting + sobs. Then he steadied himself and turning, made his way down the corridor + to the little study which had been fitted up for him in the residential + wing, and where sometimes he worked at night. He had been writing there + that evening ever since dinner, and he had quitted the room only to go to + his assignation with Samoval, leaving the lamp burning on his open desk. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door, but before passing in he paused a moment, straining + his ears to listen for sounds overhead. His eyes, glancing up and down, + were arrested by a thin blade of light under a door at the end of the + corridor. It was the door of the butler’s pantry, and the line of light + announced that Mullins had not yet gone to bed. At once Sir Terence + understood that, knowing him to be at work, the old servant had himself + remained below in case his master should want anything before retiring. + </p> + <p> + Continuing to move without noise, Sir Terence entered his study, closed + the door and crossed to his desk. Wearily he dropped into the chair that + stood before it, his face drawn and ghastly, his smouldering eyes staring + vacantly ahead. On the desk before him lay the letters that he had spent + the past hours in writing—one to his wife; another to Tremayne; + another to his brother in Ireland; and several others connected with his + official duties, making provision for their uninterrupted continuance in + the event of his not surviving the encounter. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that amongst the latter there was one that was destined + hereafter to play a considerable part; it was a note for the + Commissary-General upon a matter that demanded immediate attention, and + the only one of all those letters that need now survive. It was marked + “Most Urgent,” and had been left by him for delivery first thing in the + morning. He pulled open a drawer and swept into it all the letters he had + written save that one. + </p> + <p> + He locked that drawer; then unlocked another, and took thence a case of + pistols. With shaking hands he lifted out one of the weapons to examine + it, and all the while, of course, his thoughts were upon his wife and + Tremayne. He was considering how well-founded had been his every twinge of + jealousy; how wasted, how senseless the reactions of shame that had + followed them; how insensate his trust in Tremayne’s honesty, and, above + all, with what crafty, treacherous subtlety Tremayne had drawn a red + herring across the trail of his suspicions by pretending to an unutterable + passion for Sylvia Armytage. It was perhaps that piece of duplicity, + worthy, he thought, of the Iscariot himself, that galled Sir Terence now + most sorely; that and the memory of his own silly credulity. He had been + such a ready dupe. How those two together must have laughed at him! Oh, + Tremayne had been very subtle! He had been the friend, the quasi-brother, + parading his affection for the Butler family to excuse the familiarities + with Lady O’Moy which he had permitted himself under Sir Terence’s very + eyes. O’Moy thought of them as he had seen them in the garden on the night + of Redondo’s ball, remembered the air of transparent honesty by which that + damned hypocrite when discovered had deflected his just resentment. + </p> + <p> + Oh, there was no doubt that the treacherous blackguard had been subtle. + But—by God!—subtlety should be repaid with subtlety! He would + deal with Tremayne as cruelly as Tremayne had dealt with him; and his + wanton wife, too, should be repaid in kind. He beheld the way clear, in a + flash of wicked inspiration. He put back the pistol, slapped down the lid + of the box and replaced it in its drawer. + </p> + <p> + He rose, took up the letter to the Commissary-general, stepped briskly to + the door and pulled it open. + </p> + <p> + “Mullins!” he called sharply. “Are you there? Mullins?” + </p> + <p> + Came the sound of a scraping chair, and instantly that door at the end of + the corridor was thrown open, and Mullins stood silhouetted against the + light behind him. A moment he stood there, then came forward. + </p> + <p> + “You called, Sir Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Sir Terence’s voice was miraculously calm. His back was to the + light and his face in shadow, so that its drawn, haggard look was not + perceptible to the butler. “I am going to bed. But first I want you to + step across to the sergeant of the guard with this letter for the + Commissary-General. Tell him that it is of the utmost importance, and ask + him to arrange to have it taken into Lisbon first thing in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mullins bowed, venerable as an archdeacon in aspect and bearing, as he + received the letter from his master: “Certainly, Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + As he departed Sir Terence turned and slowly paced back to his desk, + leaving the door open. His eyes had narrowed; there was a cruel, an almost + evil smile on his lips. Of the generous, good-humoured nature imprinted + upon his face every sign had vanished. His countenance was a mask of + ferocity restrained by intelligence, cold and calculating. + </p> + <p> + Oh, he would pay the score that lay between himself and those two who had + betrayed him. They should receive treachery for treachery, mockery for + mockery, and for dishonour death. They had deemed him an old fool! What + was the expression that Samoval had used—Pantaloon in the comedy? + Well, well! He had been Pantaloon in the comedy so far. But now they + should find him Pantaloon in the tragedy—nay, not Pantaloon at all, + but Polichinelle, the sinister jester, the cynical clown, who laughs in + murdering. And in anguished silence should they bear the punishment he + would mete out to them, or else in no less anguished speech themselves + proclaim their own dastardy to the world. + </p> + <p> + His wife he beheld now in a new light. It was out of vanity and greed that + she had married him, because of the position in the world that he could + give her. Having done so, at least she might have kept faith; she might + have been honest, and abided by the bargain. If she had not done so, it + was because honesty was beyond her shallow nature. He should have seen + before what he now saw so clearly. He should have known her for a lovely, + empty husk; a silly, fluttering butterfly; a toy; a thing of vanities, + emotions, and nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Thus Sir Terence, cursing the day when he had mated with a fool. Thus Sir + Terence whilst he stood there waiting for the outcry from Mullins that + should proclaim the discovery of the body, and afford him a pretext for + having the house searched for the slayer. Nor had he long to wait. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Terence! Sir Terence! For God’s sake, Sir Terence!” he heard the + voice of his old servant. Came the loud crash of the door thrust back + until it struck the wall and quick steps along the passage. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence stepped out to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what the devil—” he was beginning in his bluff, normal tones, + when the servant, showing a white, scared face, cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “A terrible thing, Sir Terence! Oh, the saints protect us, a dreadful + thing! This way, sir! There’s a man killed—Count Samoval, I think it + is!” + </p> + <p> + “What? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Out yonder, in the quadrangle, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” Sir Terence checked. “Count Samoval, did ye say? Impossible!” + and he went out quickly, followed by the butler. + </p> + <p> + In the quadrangle he checked. In the few minutes that were sped since he + had left the place the moon had overtopped the roof of the opposite wing, + so that full upon the enclosed garden fell now its white light, illumining + and revealing. + </p> + <p> + There lay the black still form of Samoval supine, his white face staring + up into the heavens, and beside him knelt Tremayne, whilst in the balcony + above leaned her ladyship. The rope ladder, Sir Terence’s swift glance + observed, had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + He halted in his advance, standing at gaze a moment. He had hardly + expected so much. He had conceived the plan of causing the house to be + searched immediately upon Mullins’s discovery of the body. But Tremayne’s + rashness in adventuring down in this fashion spared him even that + necessity. True, it set up other difficulties. But he was not sure that + the matter would not be infinitely more interesting thus. + </p> + <p> + He stepped forward, and came to a standstill beside the two—his dead + enemy and his living one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. POLICHINELLE + </h2> + <p> + “Why, Ned,” he asked gravely, “what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Samoval,” was Tremayne’s quiet answer. “He is quite dead.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up as he spoke, and Sir Terence observed with terrible inward + mirth that his tone had the frank and honest ring, his bearing the + imperturbable ease which more than once before had imposed upon him as the + outward signs of an easy conscience. This secretary of his was a cool + scoundrel. + </p> + <p> + “Samoval, is it?” said Sir Terence, and went down on one knee beside the + body to make a perfunctory examination. Then he looked up at the captain. + </p> + <p> + “And how did this happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Happen?” echoed Tremayne, realising that the question was being addressed + particularly to himself. “That is what I am wondering. I found him here in + this condition.” + </p> + <p> + “You found him here? Oh, you found him here in this condition! Curious!” + Over his shoulder he spoke to the butler: “Mullins, you had better call + the guard.” He picked up the slender weapon that lay beside Samoval. “A + duelling sword!” Then he looked searchingly about him until his eyes + caught the gleam of the other blade near the wall, where himself he had + dropped it. “Ah!” he said, and went to pick it up. “Very odd!” He looked + up at the balcony, over the parapet of which his wife was leaning. “Did + you see anything, my dear?” he asked, and neither Tremayne nor she + detected the faint note of wicked mockery in the question. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause before she answered him, faltering: + </p> + <p> + “N-no. I saw nothing.” Sir Terence’s straining ears caught no faintest + sound of the voice that had prompted her urgently from behind the + curtained windows. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been there?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “A—a moment only,” she replied, again after a pause. “I—I + thought I heard a cry, and—and I came to see what had happened.” Her + voice shook with terror; but what she beheld would have been quite enough + to account for that. + </p> + <p> + The guard filed in through the doors from the official quarters, a + sergeant with a halbert in one hand and a lantern in the other, followed + by four men, and lastly by Mullins. They halted and came to attention + before Sir Terence. And almost at the same moment there was a sharp + rattling knock on the wicket in the great closed gates through which + Samoval had entered. Startled, but without showing any signs of it, Sir + Terence bade Mullins go open, and in a general silence all waited to see + who it was that came. + </p> + <p> + A tall man, bowing his shoulders to pass under the low lintel of that + narrow door, stepped over the sill and into the courtyard. He wore a + cocked hat, and as his great cavalry cloak fell open the yellow rays of + the sergeant’s lantern gleamed faintly on a British uniform. Presently, as + he advanced into the quadrangle, he disclosed the aquiline features of + Colquhoun Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, General. Good-evening, Tremayne,” he greeted one and the + other. Then his eyes fell upon the body lying between them. “Samoval, eh? + So I am not mistaken in seeking him here. I have had him under very close + observation during the past day or two, and when one of my men brought me + word tonight that he had left his place at Bispo on foot and alone, going + along the upper Alcantara road, If had a notion that he might be coming to + Monsanto and I followed. But I hardly expected to find this. How has it + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I was just asking Tremayne,” replied Sir Terence. “Mullins + discovered him here quite by chance with the body.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Grant, and turned to the captain. “Was it you then—” + </p> + <p> + “I?” interrupted Tremayne with sudden violence. He seemed now to become + aware for the first time of the gravity of his position. “Certainly not, + Colonel Grant. I heard a cry, and I came out to see what it was. I found + Samoval here, already dead.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Grant. “You were with Sir Terence, then, when this—” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” Sir Terence interrupted. “I have been alone since dinner, clearing + up some arrears of work. I was in my study there when Mullins called me to + tell me what he had discovered. It looks as if there had been a duel. Look + at these swords.” Then he turned to his secretary. “I think, Captain + Tremayne,” he said gravely, “that you had better report yourself under + arrest to your colonel.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne stiffened suddenly. “Report myself under arrest?” he cried. “My + God, Sir Terence, you don’t believe that I—” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence interrupted him. The voice in which he spoke was stern, almost + sad; but his eyes gleamed with fiendish mockery the while. It was + Polichinelle that spoke—Polichinelle that mocks what time he slays. + “What were you doing here?” he asked, and it was like moving the + checkmating piece. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne stood stricken and silent. He cast a desperate upward glance at + the balcony overhead. The answer was so easy, but it would entail + delivering Richard Butler to his death. Colonel Grant, following his + upward glance, beheld Lady O’Moy for the first time. He bowed, swept off + his cocked hat, and “Perhaps her ladyship,” he suggested to Sir Terence, + “may have seen something.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already asked her,” replied O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + And then she herself was feverishly assuring Colonel Grant that she had + seen nothing at all, that she had heard a cry and had come out on to the + balcony to see what was happening. + </p> + <p> + “And was Captain Tremayne here when you came out?” asked O’Moy, the deadly + jester. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” she faltered. “I was only a moment or two before yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “You see?” said Sir Terence heavily to Grant, and Grant, with pursed lips, + nodded, his eyes moving from O’Moy to Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “But, Sir Terence,” cried Tremayne, “I give you my word—I swear to + you—that I know absolutely nothing of how Samoval met his death.” + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing here?” O’Moy asked again, and this time the sinister, + menacing note of derision vibrated clearly in the question. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne for the first time in his honest, upright life found himself + deliberately choosing between truth and falsehood. The truth would clear + him—since with that truth he would produce witnesses to it, + establishing his movements completely. But the truth would send a man to + his death; and so for the sake of that man’s life he was driven into + falsehood. + </p> + <p> + “I was on my way to see you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “At midnight?” cried Sir Terence on a note of grim doubt. “To what + purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Sir Terence, if my word is not sufficient, I refuse to submit to + cross-examination.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence turned to the sergeant of the guard, “How long is it since + Captain Tremayne arrived?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stood to attention. “Captain Tremayne, sir, arrived rather + more than half-an-hour ago. He came in a curricle, which is still waiting + at the gates.” + </p> + <p> + “Half-an-hour ago, eh?” said Sir Terence, and from Colquhoun Grant there + was a sharp and audible intake of breath, expressive either of + understanding, or surprise, or both. The adjutant looked at Tremayne + again. “As my questions seem only to entangle you further,” he said, “I + think you had better do as I suggest without more protests: report + yourself under arrest to Colonel Fletcher in the morning, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Still Tremayne hesitated for a moment. Then drawing himself up, he saluted + curtly. “Very well, sir,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “But, Terence—” cried her ladyship from above. + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” said Sir Terence, and he looked up. “You would say—?” he + encouraged her, for she had broken off abruptly, checked again—although + none below could guess it—by the one behind who prompted her. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t you—couldn’t you wait?” she was faltering, compelled to it + by his question. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But for what?” quoth he, grimly sardonic. + </p> + <p> + “Wait until you have some explanation,” she concluded lamely. + </p> + <p> + “That will be the business of the court-martial,” he answered. “My duty is + quite clear and simple; I think. You needn’t wait, Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + And so, without another word, Tremayne turned and departed. The soldiers, + in compliance with the short command issued by Sir Terence, took up the + body and bore it away to a room in the official quarters; and in their + wake went Colonel Grant, after taking his leave of Sir Terence. Her + ladyship vanished from the balcony and closed her windows, and finally Sir + Terence, followed by Mullins, slowly, with bowed head and dragging steps, + reentered the house. In the quadrangle, flooded now by the cold, white + light of the moon, all was peace once more. Sir Terence turned into his + study, sank into the chair by his desk and sat there awhile staring into + vacancy, a diabolical smile upon his handsome, mobile mouth. Gradually the + smile faded and horror overspread his face. Finally he flung himself + forward and buried his head in his arms. + </p> + <p> + There were steps in the hall outside, a quick mutter of voices, and then + the door of his study was flung open, and Miss Armytage came sharply to + rouse him. + </p> + <p> + “Terence! What has happened to Captain Tremayne?” + </p> + <p> + He sat up stiffly, as she sped across the room to him. She was wrapped in + a blue quilted bed-gown, her dark hair hung in two heavy plaits, and her + bare feet had been hastily thrust into slippers. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence looked at her with eyes that were dull and heavy and that yet + seemed to search her white, startled face. + </p> + <p> + She set a hand on his shoulder, and looked down into his ravaged, haggard + countenance. He seemed suddenly to have been stricken into an old man. + </p> + <p> + “Mullins has just told me that Captain Tremayne has been ordered under + arrest for—for killing Count Samoval. Is it true? Is it true?” she + demanded wildly. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he answered her, and there was a heavy, sneering curl on his + upper lip. + </p> + <p> + “But—” She stopped, and put a hand to her throat; she looked as if + she would stifle. She sank to her knees beside him, and caught his hand in + both her own that were trembling. “Oh, you can’t believe it! Captain + Tremayne is not the man to do a murder.” + </p> + <p> + “The evidence points to a duel,” he answered dully. + </p> + <p> + “A duel!” She looked at him, and then, remembering what had passed that + morning between Tremayne and Samoval, remembering, too, Lord Wellington’s + edict, “Oh, God!” she gasped. “Why did you let them take him?” + </p> + <p> + “They didn’t take him. I ordered him under arrest. He will report himself + to Colonel Fletcher in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You ordered him? You! You, his friend!” Anger, scorn, reproach and sorrow + all blending in her voice bore him a clear message. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her most closely, and gradually compassion crept into + his face. He set his hands on her shoulders, she suffering it passively, + insensibly. + </p> + <p> + “You care for him, Sylvia?” he said, between inquiry and wonder. “Well, + well! We are both fools together, child. The man is a dastard, a + blackguard, a Judas, to be repaid with betrayal for betrayal. Forget him, + girl. Believe me, he isn’t worth a thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Terence!” She looked in her turn into that distorted face. “Are you mad?” + she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly,” he answered, with a laugh that was horrible to hear. + </p> + <p> + She drew back and away from him, bewildered and horrified. Slowly she rose + to her feet. She controlled with difficulty the deep emotion swaying her. + “Tell me,” she said slowly, speaking with obvious effort, “what will they + do to Captain Tremayne?” + </p> + <p> + “What will they do to him?” He looked at her. He was smiling. “They will + shoot him, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wish it!” she denounced him in a whisper of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things,” he answered. “A more poetic justice never overtook a + blackguard.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call him that? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you—afterwards, after they have shot him; unless the + truth comes out before.” + </p> + <p> + “What truth do you mean? The truth of how Samoval came by his death?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. That matter is quite clear, the evidence complete. I mean—oh, + I will tell you afterwards what I mean. It may help you to bear your + trouble, thankfully.” + </p> + <p> + She approached him again. “Won’t you tell me now?” she begged him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, rising, and speaking with finality. “Afterwards if + necessary, afterwards. And now get back to bed, child, and forget the + fellow. I swear to you that he isn’t worth a thought. Later I shall hope + to prove it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That you never will,” she told him fiercely. + </p> + <p> + He laughed, and again his laugh was harsh and terrible in its bitter + mockery. “Yet another trusting fool,” he cried. “The world is full of them—it + is made up of them, with just a sprinkling of knaves to batten on their + folly. Go to bed, Sylvia, and pray for understanding of men. It is a + possession beyond riches.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are more in need of it than I am,” she told him, standing by + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you do. You trust, which is why you are a fool. Trust,” he + said, speaking the very language of Polichinelle, “is the livery of + fools.” + </p> + <p> + She went without answering him and toiled upstairs with dragging feet. She + paused a moment in the corridor above, outside Una’s door. She was in such + need of communion with some one that for a moment she thought of going in. + But she knew beforehand the greeting that would await her; the empty + platitudes, the obvious small change of verbiage which her ladyship would + dole out. The very thought of it restrained her, and so she passed on to + her own room and a sleepless night in which to piece together the puzzle + which the situation offered her, the amazing enigma of Sir Terence’s + seeming access of insanity. + </p> + <p> + And the only conclusion that she reached was that intertwined with the + death of Samoval there was some other circumstance which had aroused in + the adjutant an unreasoning hatred of his friend, converting him into + Tremayne’s bitterest enemy, intent—as he had confessed—upon + seeing him shot for that night’s work. And because she knew them both for + men of honour above all, the enigma was immeasurably deepened. + </p> + <p> + Had she but obeyed the transient impulse to seek Lady O’Moy she might have + discovered all the truth at once. For she would have come upon her + ladyship in a frame of mind almost as distraught as her own; and she might—had + she penetrated to the dressing-room where her ladyship was—have come + upon Richard Butler at the same time. + </p> + <p> + Now, in view of what had happened, her ladyship, ever impulsive, was all + for going there and then to her husband to confess the whole truth, + without pausing to reflect upon the consequences to others than Ned + Tremayne. As you know, it was beyond her to see a thing from two points of + view at one and the same time. It was also beyond her brother—the + failing, as I think I have told you, was a family one—and her + brother saw this matter only from the point of view of his own safety. + </p> + <p> + “A single word to Terence,” he had told her, putting his back to the door + of the dressing-room to bar her intended egress, “and you realise that it + will be a court-martial and a firing party for me.” + </p> + <p> + That warning effectively checked her. Yet certain stirrings of conscience + made her think of the man who had imperilled himself for her sake and her + brother’s. + </p> + <p> + “But, Dick, what is to become of Ned?” she had asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ned will be all right. What is the evidence against him after all? + Men are not shot for things they haven’t done. Justice will out, you know. + Leave Ned to shift for himself for the present. Anyhow his danger isn’t + grave, nor is it immediate, and mine is.” + </p> + <p> + Helplessly distraught, she sank to an ottoman. The night had been a very + trying one for her ladyship. She gave way to tears. + </p> + <p> + “It is all your fault, Dick,” she reproached him. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally you would blame me,” he said with resignation—the + complete martyr. + </p> + <p> + “If only you had been ready at the time, as he told you to be, there would + have been no delays, and you would have got away before any of this + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it my fault that I should have reopened my wound—bad luck to + it!—in attempting to get down that damned ladder?” he asked her. “Is + it my fault that I am neither an ape nor an acrobat? Tremayne should have + come up at once to assist me, instead of waiting until he had to come up + to help me bandage my leg again. Then time would not have been lost, and + very likely my life with it.” He came to a gloomy conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “Your life? What do you mean, Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Just that. What are my chances of getting away now?” he asked her. “Was + there ever such infernal luck as mine? The Telemachus will sail without + me, and the only man who could and would have helped me to get out of this + damned country is under arrest. It’s clear I shall have to shift for + myself again, and I can’t even do that for a day or two with my leg in + this state. I shall have to go back into that stuffy store-cupboard of + yours till God knows when.” He lost all self-control at the prospect and + broke into imprecations of his luck. + </p> + <p> + She attempted to soothe him. But he wasn’t easy to soothe. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” he grumbled on, “you have so little sense that you want to run + straight off to Terence and explain to him what Tremayne was doing here. + You might at least have the grace to wait until I am off the premises, and + give me the mercy of a start before you set the dogs on my trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick, Dick, you are so cruel!” she protested. “How can you say such + things to me, whose only thought is for you, to save you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don’t talk any more about telling Terence,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t, Dick. I won’t.” She drew him down beside her on the ottoman and + her fingers smoothed his rather tumbled red hair, just as her words + attempted to smooth the ruffles in his spirit. “You know I didn’t realise, + or I should not have thought of it even. I was so concerned for Ned for + the moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I tell you there’s not the need?” he assured her. “Ned will be safe + enough, devil a doubt. It’s for you to keep to what you told them from the + balcony; that you heard a cry, went out to see what was happening and saw + Tremayne there bending over the body. Not a word more, and not a word + less, or it will be all over with me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE CHAMPION + </h2> + <p> + With the possible exception of her ladyship, I do not think that there was + much sleep that night at Monsanto for any of the four chief actors in this + tragicomedy. Each had his own preoccupations. Sylvia’s we know. Mr. Butler + found his leg troubling him again, and the pain of the reopened wound must + have prevented him from sleeping even had his anxieties about his + immediate future not sufficed to do so. As for Sir Terence, his was the + most deplorable case of all. This man who had lived a life of simple and + downright honesty in great things and in small, a man who had never + stooped to the slightest prevarication, found himself suddenly launched + upon the most horrible and infamous course of duplicity to encompass the + ruin of another. The offence of that other against himself might be of the + most foul and hideous, a piece of treachery that only treachery could + adequately avenge; yet this consideration was not enough to appease the + clamours of Sir Terence’s self-respect. + </p> + <p> + In the end, however, the primary desire for vengeance and vengeance of the + bitterest kind proved master of his mind. Captain Tremayne had been led by + his villainy into a coil that should presently crush him, and Sir Terence + promised himself an infinite balm for his outraged honour in the + entertainment which the futile struggles of the victim should provide. + With Captain Tremayne lay the cruel choice of submitting in tortured + silence to his fate, or of turning craven and saving his miserable life by + proclaiming himself a seducer and a betrayer. It should be interesting to + observe how the captain would decide, and his punishment was certain + whatever the decision that he took. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence came to breakfast in the open, grey-faced and haggard, but + miraculously composed for a man who had so little studied the art of + concealing his emotions. Voice and glance were calm as he gave a + good-morning to his wife and to Miss Armytage. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do about Ned?” was one of his wife’s first + questions. + </p> + <p> + It took him aback. He looked askance at her, marvelling at the steadiness + with which she bore his glance, until it occurred to him that effrontery + was an essential part of the equipment of all harlots. + </p> + <p> + “What am I going to do?” he echoed. “Why, nothing. The matter is out of my + hands. I may be asked to give evidence; I may even be called to sit upon + the court-martial that will try him. My evidence can hardly assist him. My + conclusions will naturally be based upon the evidence that is laid before + the court.” + </p> + <p> + Her teaspoon rattled in her saucer. “I don’t understand you, Terence. Ned + has always been your best friend.” + </p> + <p> + “He has certainly shared everything that was mine.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know,” she went on, “that he did not kill Samoval.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” His glance quickened a little. “How should I know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well... I know it, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed moved by that statement. He leaned forward with an odd + eagerness, behind which there was something terrible that went unperceived + by her. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not say so before? How do you know? What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that he did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. But what makes you so sure? Do you possess some knowledge that + you have not revealed?” + </p> + <p> + He saw the colour slowly shrinking from her cheeks under his burning gaze. + So she was not quite shameless then, after all. There were limits to her + effrontery. + </p> + <p> + “What knowledge should I possess?” she filtered. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I am asking.” + </p> + <p> + She made a good recovery. “I possess the knowledge that you should possess + yourself,” she told him. “I know Ned for a man incapable of such a thing. + I am ready to swear that he could not have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “I see: evidence as to character.” He sank back into his chair and + thoughtfully stirred his chocolate. “It may weigh with the court. But I am + not the court, and my mere opinions can do nothing for Ned Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship looked at him wildly. “The court?” she cried. “Do you mean + that I shall have to give evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he answered. “You will have to say what you saw.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but I saw nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Something, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but nothing that can matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Still the court will wish to hear it and perhaps to examine you upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no!” In her alarm she half rose, then sank again to her chair. + “You must keep me out of this, Terence. I couldn’t—I really + couldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed with an affectation of indulgence, masking something else. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “you would not deprive Tremayne of any of the advantages + to be derived from your testimony? Are you not ready to bear witness as to + his character? To swear that from your knowledge of the man you are sure + he could not have done such a thing? That he is the very soul of honour, a + man incapable of anything base or treacherous or sly?” + </p> + <p> + And then at last Sylvia, who had been watching them, and seeking to apply + to what she heard the wild expressions that Sir Terence had used to + herself last night, broke into the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you apply these words to Captain Tremayne?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply to meet the opposition he detected in her. “I don’t + apply them. On the contrary, I say that, as Una knows, they are not + applicable.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you make an unnecessary statement, a statement that has nothing to + do with the case. Captain Tremayne has been arrested for killing Count + Samoval in a duel. A duel may be a violation of the law as recently + enacted by Lord Wellington, but it is not an offence against honour; and + to say that a man cannot have fought a duel because a man is incapable of + anything base or treacherous or sly is just to say a very foolish and + meaningless thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite so,” the adjutant, admitted. “But if Tremayne denies having + fought, if he shelters himself behind a falsehood, and says that he has + not killed Samoval, then I think the statement assumes some meaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Captain Tremayne say that?” she asked him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I understood him to say last night when I ordered him under + arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Sylvia, with full conviction, “Captain Tremayne did not do + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he didn’t,” Sir Terence admitted. “The court will no doubt + discover the truth. The truth, you know, must prevail,” and he looked at + his wife again, marking the fresh signs of agitation she betrayed. + </p> + <p> + Mullins coming to set fresh covers, the conversation was allowed to lapse. + Nor was it ever resumed, for at that moment, with no other announcement + save such as was afforded by his quick step and the click-click of his + spurs, a short, slight man entered the quadrangle from the doorway of the + official wing. + </p> + <p> + The adjutant, turning to look, caught his breath suddenly in an + exclamation of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Wellington!” he cried, and was immediately on his feet. + </p> + <p> + At the exclamation the new-comer checked and turned. He wore a plain grey + undress frock and white stock, buckskin breeches and lacquered boots, and + he carried a riding-crop tucked under his left arm. His features were bold + and sternly handsome; his fine eyes singularly piercing and keen in their + glance; and the sweep of those eyes now took in not merely the adjutant, + but the spread table and the ladies seated before it. He halted a moment, + then advanced quickly, swept his cocked hat from a brown head that was but + very slightly touched with grey, and bowed with a mixture of stiffness and + courtliness to the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Since I have intruded so unwittingly, I had best remain to make my + apologies,” he said. “I was on my way to your residential quarters, O’Moy, + not imagining that I should break in upon your privacy in this fashion.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy with a great deference made haste to reassure him on the score of + the intrusion, whilst the ladies themselves rose to greet him. He bore her + ladyship’s hand to his lips with perfunctory courtesy, then insisted upon + her resuming her chair. Then he bowed—ever with that mixture of + stiffness and deference—to Miss Armytage upon her being presented to + him by the adjutant. + </p> + <p> + “Do not suffer me to disturb you,” he begged them. “Sit down, O’Moy. I am + not pressed, and I shall be monstrous glad of a few moments’ rest. You are + very pleasant here,” and he looked about the luxuriant garden with + approving eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence placed the hospitality of his table at his lordship’s + disposal. But the latter declined graciously. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of wine and water, if you will. No more. I breakfasted at Torres + Vedras with Fletcher.” Then to the look of astonishment on the faces of + the ladies he smiled. “Oh yes,” he assured them, “I was early astir, for + time is very precious just at present, which is why I drop unannounced + upon you from the skies, O’Moy.” He took the glass that Mullins proffered + on a salver, sipped from it, and set it down. “There is so much vexation, + so much hindrance from these pestilential intriguers here in Lisbon, that + I have thought it as well to come in person and speak plainly to the + gentlemen of the Council of Regency.” He was peeling off his stout + riding-gloves as he spoke. “If this campaign is to go forward at all, it + will go forward as I dispose. Then, too, I wanted to see Fletcher and the + works. By gad, O’Moy, he has performed miracles, and I am very pleased + with him—oh, and with you too. He told me how ably you have seconded + him and counselled him where necessary. You must have worked night and + day, O’Moy.” He sighed. “I wish that I were as well served in every + direction.” And then he broke off abruptly. “But this is monstrous tedious + for your ladyship, and for you, Miss Armytage. Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship protested the contrary, professing a deep interest in + military matters, and inviting his lordship to continue. Lord Wellington, + however, ignoring the invitation, turned the conversation upon life in + Lisbon, inquiring hopefully whether they found the place afforded them + adequate entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed yes,” Lady O’Moy assured him. “We are very gay at times. There are + private theatricals and dances, occasionally an official ball, and we are + promised picnics and water-parties now that the summer is here.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the autumn, ma’am, we may find you a little hunting,” his lordship + promised them. “Plenty of foxes; a rough country, though; but what’s that + to an Irishwoman?” He caught the quickening of Miss Armytage’s eye. “The + prospect interests you, I see.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage admitted it, and thus they made conversation for a while, + what time the great soldier sipped his wine and water to wash the dust of + his morning ride from his throat. When at last he set down an empty glass + Sir Terence took this as the intimation of his readiness to deal with + official matters, and, rising, he announced himself entirely at his + lordship’s service. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington claimed his attention for a full hour with the details of + several matters that are not immediately concerned with this narrative. + Having done, he rose at last from Sir Terence’s desk, at which he had been + sitting, and took up his riding-crop and cocked hat from the chair where + he had placed them. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he said, “I think I will ride into Lisbon and endeavour to come + to an understanding with Count Redondo and Don Miguel Forjas.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence advanced to open the door. But Wellington checked him with a + sudden sharp inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “You published my order against duelling, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Immediately upon receiving it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! It doesn’t seem to have taken long for the order to be infringed, + then.” His manner was severe, his eyes stern. Sir Terence was conscious of + a quickening of his pulses. Nevertheless his answer was calmly regretful: + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not.” + </p> + <p> + The great man nodded. “Disgraceful! I heard of it from Fletcher this + morning. Captain What’s-his-name had just reported himself under arrest, I + understand, and Fletcher had received a note from you giving the grounds + for this. The deplorable part of these things is that they always happen + in the most troublesome manner conceivable. In Berkeley’s case the victim + was a nephew of the Patriarch’s. Samoval, now, was a person of even + greater consequence, a close friend of several members of the Council. His + death will be deeply resented, and may set up fresh difficulties. It is + monstrous vexatious.” And abruptly he asked “What did they quarrel about?” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy trembled, and his glance avoided the other’s gimlet eye. “The only + quarrel that I am aware of between them,” he said, “was concerned with + this very enactment of your lordship’s. Samoval proclaimed it infamous, + and Tremayne resented the term. Hot words passed between them, but the + altercation was allowed to go no further at the time by myself and others + who were present.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship had raised his brows. “By gad, sir,” he ejaculated, “there + almost appears to be some justification for the captain. He was one of + your military secretaries, was he not?” + </p> + <p> + “He was.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Pity! Pity!” His lordship was thoughtful for a moment. Then he + dismissed the matter. “But then orders are orders, and soldiers must learn + to obey implicitly. British soldiers of all degrees seem to find the + lesson difficult. We must inculcate it more sternly, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy’s honest soul was in torturing revolt against the falsehoods he had + implied—and to this man of all men, to this man whom he reverenced + above all others, who stood to him for the very fount of military honour + and lofty principle! He was in such a mood that one more question on the + subject from Wellington and the whole ghastly truth must have come pouring + from his lips. But no other question came. Instead his lordship turned on + the threshold and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Not a step farther, O’Moy. I’ve left you a mass of work, and you are + short of a secretary. So don’t waste any of your time on courtesies. I + shall hope still to find the ladies in the garden so that I may take my + leave without inconveniencing them.” + </p> + <p> + And he was gone, stepping briskly with clicking spurs, leaving O’Moy + hunched now in his chair, his body the very expression of the dejection + that filled his soul. + </p> + <p> + In the garden his lordship came upon Miss Armytage alone, still seated by + the table under the trellis, from which the cloth had by now been removed. + She rose at his approach and in spite of gesture to her to remain seated. + </p> + <p> + “I was seeking Lady O’Moy,” said he, “to take my leave of her. I may not + have the pleasure of coming to Monsanto again.” + </p> + <p> + “She is on the terrace, I think,” said Miss Armytage. “I will find her for + your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us find her together,” he said amiably, and so turned and went with + her towards the archway. “You said your name is Armytage, I think?” he + commented. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Terence said so.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes twinkled. “You possess an exceptional virtue,” said he. “To be + truthful is common; to be accurate rare. Well, then, Sir Terence said so. + Once I had a great friend of the name of Armytage. I have lost sight of + him these many years. We were at school together in Brussels.” + </p> + <p> + “At Monsieur Goubert’s,” she surprised him by saying. “That would be John + Armytage, my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul, ma’am!” he ejaculated. “But I gathered you were Irish, + and Jack Armytage came from Yorkshire.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother is Irish, and we live in Ireland now. I was born there. But + father, none the less, was John Armytage’s brother.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with increased interest, marking the straight, supple + lines of her, and the handsome, high-bred face. His lordship, remember, + never lacked an appreciative eye for a fine woman. “So you’re Jack + Armytage’s niece. Give me news of him, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She did so. Jack Armytage was well and prospering, had made a rich + marriage and retired from the Blues many years ago to live at Northampton. + He listened with interest, and thus out of his boyhood friendship for her + uncle, which of late years he had had no opportunity to express, sprang + there and then a kindness for the niece. Her own personal charms may have + contributed to it, for the great soldier was intensely responsive to the + appeal of beauty. + </p> + <p> + They reached the terrace. Lady O’Moy was nowhere in sight. But Lord + Wellington was too much engrossed in his discovery to be troubled. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “if I can serve you at any time, both for Jack’s sake + and your own, I hope that you will let me know of it.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a moment, and he saw her colour come and go, arguing a + sudden agitation. + </p> + <p> + “You tempt me, sir,” she said, with a wistful smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then yield to the temptation, child,” he urged her kindly, those keen, + penetrating eyes of his perceiving trouble here. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t for myself,” she responded. “Yet there is something I would ask + you if I dare—something I had intended to ask you in any case if I + could find the opportunity. To be frank, that is why I was waiting there + in the garden just now. It was to waylay you. I hoped for a word with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he encouraged her. “It should be the easier now, since in a + sense we find that we are old friends.” + </p> + <p> + He was so kind, so gentle, despite that stern, strong face of his, that + she melted at once to his persuasion. + </p> + <p> + “It is about Lieutenant Richard Butler,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said he lightly, “I feared as much when you said it was not for + yourself you had a favour to ask.” + </p> + <p> + But, looking at him, she instantly perceived how he had misunderstood her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Butler,” she said, “is the officer who was guilty of the affair at + Tavora.” + </p> + <p> + He knit his brow in thought. “Butler-Tavora?” he muttered questioningly. + Suddenly his memory found what it was seeking. “Oh yes, the violated + nunnery.” His thin lips tightened; the sternness of his ace increased. + “Yes?” he inquired, but the tone was now forbidding. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she was not deterred. “Mr. Butler is Lady O’Moy’s brother,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + He stared a moment, taken aback. “Good God! Ye don’t say so, child! Her + brother! O’Moy’s brother-in-law! And O’Moy never said a word to me about + it. + </p> + <p> + “What should he say? Sir Terence himself pledged his word to the Council + of Regency that Mr. Butler would be shot when taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he, egad!” He was still further surprised out of his sternness. + “Something of a Roman this O’Moy in his conception of duty! Hum! The + Council no doubt demanded this?” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand, my lord. Lady O’Moy, realising her brother’s grave + danger, is very deeply troubled.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he agreed. “But what can I do, Miss Armytage? What were the + actual facts, do you happen to know?” + </p> + <p> + She recited them, putting the case bravely for the scapegrace Mr. Butler, + dwelling particularly upon the error under which he was labouring, that he + had imagined himself to be knocking at the gates of a monastery of + Dominican friars, that he had broken into the convent because denied + admittance, and because he suspected some treacherous reason for that + denial. + </p> + <p> + He heard her out, watching her with those keen eyes of his the while. + </p> + <p> + “Hum! You make out so good a case for him that one might almost believe + you instructed by the gentleman himself. Yet I gather that nothing has + since been heard of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir, since he vanished from Tavora, nearly, two months ago. And + I have only repeated to your lordship the tale that was told by the + sergeant and the troopers who reported the matter to Sir Robert Craufurd + on their return.” + </p> + <p> + He was very thoughtful. Leaning on the balustrade, he looked out across + the sunlit valley, turning his boldly chiselled profile to his companion. + At last he spoke slowly, reflectively: “But if this were really so—a + mere blunder—I see no sufficient grounds to threaten him with + capital punishment. His subsequent desertion, if he has deserted—I + mean if nothing has happened to him—is really the graver matter of + the two.” + </p> + <p> + “I gathered, sir, that he was to be sacrificed to the Council of Regency—a + sort of scapegoat.” + </p> + <p> + He swung round sharply, and the sudden blaze of his eyes almost terrified + her. Instantly he was cold again and inscrutable. “Ah! You are oddly well + informed throughout. But of course you would be,” he added, with an + appraising look into that intelligent face in which he now caught a faint + likeness of Jack Armytage. “Well, well, my dear, I am very glad you have + told me of this. If Mr. Butler is ever taken and in danger—there + will be a court-martial, of course—send me word of it, and I will + see what I can do, both for your sake and for the sake of strict justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not for my sake,” she protested, reddening slightly at the gentle + imputation. “Mr. Butler is nothing to me—that is to say, he is just + my cousin. It is for Una’s sake that I am asking this.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, for Lady O’Moy’s sake, since you ask it,” he replied readily. + “But,” he warned her, “say nothing of it until Mr. Butler is found.” It is + possible he believed that Butler never would be found. “And remember, I + promise only to give the matter my attention. If it is as you represent + it, I think you may be sure that the worst that will befall Mr. Butler + will be dismissal from the service. He deserves that. But I hope I should + be the last man to permit a British officer to be used as a scapegoat or a + burnt-offering to the mob or to any Council of Regency. By the way, who + told you this about a scapegoat?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne? Oh, the man who killed Samoval?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + On that almost fierce denial his lordship looked at her, raising his + eyebrows in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “But I am told that he did, and he is under arrest for it this moment—for + that, and for breaking my order against duelling.” + </p> + <p> + “You were not told the truth, my lord. Captain Tremayne says that he + didn’t, and if he says so it is so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, Miss Armytage!” He was a man of unparalleled valour and + boldness, yet so fierce was she in that moment that for the life of him he + dared not have contradicted her. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne is the most honourable man I know,” she continued, “and + if he had killed Samoval he would never have denied it; he would have + proclaimed it to all the world.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need for all this heat, my dear,” he reassured her. “The + point is not one that can remain in doubt. The seconds of the duel will be + forthcoming; and they will tell us who were the principals.” + </p> + <p> + “There were no seconds,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “No seconds!” he cried in horror. “D’ ye mean they just fought a rough and + tumble fight?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean they never fought at all. As for this tale of a duel, I ask your + lordship: Had Captain Tremayne desired a secret meeting with Count + Samoval, would he have chosen this of all places in which to hold it?” + </p> + <p> + “This?” + </p> + <p> + “This. The fight—whoever fought it—took place in the + quadrangle there at midnight.” + </p> + <p> + He was overcome with astonishment, and he showed it. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul,” he said, “I do not appear to have been told any of the + facts. Strange that O’Moy should never have mentioned that,” he muttered, + and then inquired suddenly: “Where was Tremayne arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Here? He was here, then, at midnight? What was he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. But whatever he was doing, can your lordship believe that + he would have come here to fight a secret duel?” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly puts a monstrous strain upon belief,” said he. “But what can + he have been doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she repeated. She wanted to add a warning of O’Moy. She + was tempted to tell his lordship of the odd words that O’Moy had used to + her last night concerning Tremayne. But she hesitated, and her courage + failed her. Lord Wellington was so great a man, bearing the destinies of + nations on his shoulders, and already he had wasted upon her so much of + the time that belonged to the world and history, that she feared to + trespass further; and whilst she hesitated came Colquhoun Grant clanking + across the quadrangle looking for his lordship. He had come up, he + announced, standing straight and stiff before them, to see O’Moy, but + hearing of Lord Wellington’s presence, had preferred to see his lordship + in the first instance. + </p> + <p> + “And indeed you arrive very opportunely, Grant,” his lordship confessed. + </p> + <p> + He turned to take his leave of Jack Armytage’s niece. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not forget either Mr. Butler or Captain Tremayne,” he promised her, + and his stern face softened into a gentle, friendly smile. “They are very + fortunate in their champion.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE WALLET + </h2> + <p> + “A queer, mysterious business this death of Samoval,” said Colonel Grant. + </p> + <p> + “So I was beginning to perceive,” Wellington agreed, his brow dark. + </p> + <p> + They were alone together in the quadrangle under the trellis, through + which the sun, already high, was dappling the table at which his lordship + sat. + </p> + <p> + “It would be easier to read if it were not for the duelling swords. Those + and the nature of Samoval’s wound certainly point unanswerably to a duel. + Otherwise there would be considerable evidence that Samoval was a spy + caught in the act and dealt with out of hand as he deserved.” + </p> + <p> + “How? Count Samoval a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “In the French interest,” answered the colonel without emotion, “acting + upon the instructions of the Souza faction, whose tool he had become.” And + Colonel Grant proceeded to relate precisely what he knew of Samoval. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington sat awhile in silence, cogitating. Then he rose, and his + piercing eyes looked up at the colonel, who stood a good head taller than + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the evidence of which you spoke?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” was the answer. “The evidence I have secured is much more + palpable. I have it here.” He produced a little wallet of red morocco + bearing the initial “S” surmounted by a coronet. Opening it, he selected + from it some papers, speaking the while. “I thought it as well before I + left last night to make an examination of the body. This is what I found, + and it contains, among other lesser documents, these to which I would draw + your lordship’s attention. First this.” And he placed in Lord Wellington’s + hand a holograph note from the Prince of Esslingen introducing the bearer, + M. de la Fleche, his confidential agent, who would consult with the Count, + and thanking the Count for the valuable information already received from + him. + </p> + <p> + His lordship sat down again to read the letter. “It is a full confirmation + of what you have told me,” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Then this,” said Colonel Grant, and he placed upon the table a note in + French of the approximate number and disposition of the British troops in + Portugal at the time. “The handwriting is Samoval’s own, as those who know + it will have no difficulty in discerning. And now this, sir.” He unfolded + a small sketch map, bearing the title also in French: Probable position + and extent of the fortifications north of Lisbon. + </p> + <p> + “The notes at the foot,” he added, “are in cipher, and it is the ordinary + cipher employed by the French, which in itself proves how deeply Samoval + was involved. Here is a translation of it.” And he placed before his chief + a sheet of paper on which Lord Wellington read: + </p> + <p> + “This is based upon my own personal knowledge of the country, odd scraps + of information received from time to time, and my personal verification of + the roads closed to traffic in that region. It is intended merely as a + guide to the actual locale of the fortifications, an exact plan of which I + hope shortly to obtain.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship considered it very attentively, but without betraying the + least discomposure. + </p> + <p> + “For a man working upon such slight data as he himself confesses,” was the + quiet comment, “he is damnably accurate. It is as well, I think, that this + did not reach Marshal Massena.” + </p> + <p> + “My own assumption is that he put off sending it, intending to replace it + by the actual plan—which he here confesses to the expectation of + obtaining shortly.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he died at the right moment. Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Colonel Grant, “I have kept the best for the last.” And + unfolding yet another document, he placed it in the hands of the + Commander-in-Chief. It was Lord Liverpool’s note of the troops to be + embarked for Lisbon in June and July—the note abstracted from the + dispatch carried by Captain Garfield. + </p> + <p> + His lordship’s lips tightened as he considered it. “His death was timely + indeed, damned timely; and the man who killed him deserves to be mentioned + in dispatches. Nothing else, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “The rest is of little consequence, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” He rose. “You will leave these with me, and the wallet as + well, if you please. I am on my way to confer with the members of the + Council of Regency, and I am glad to go armed with so stout a weapon as + this. Whatever may be the ultimate finding of the court-martial, the + present assumption must be that Samoval met the death of a spy caught in + the act, as you suggested. That is the only conclusion the Portuguese + Government can draw when I lay these papers before it. They will + effectively silence all protests.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell O’Moy?” inquired the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly,” answered his lordship, instantly to change his mind. + “Stay!” He considered, his chin in his hand, his eyes dreamy. “Better not, + perhaps. Better not tell anybody. Let us keep this to ourselves for the + present. It has no direct bearing on the matter to be tried. By the way, + when does the court-martial sit?” + </p> + <p> + “I have just heard that Marshal Beresford has ordered it to sit on + Thursday here at Monsanto.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship considered. “Perhaps I shall be present. I may be at Torres + Vedras until then. It is a very odd affair. What is your own impression of + it, Grant? Have you formed any?” + </p> + <p> + Grant smiled darkly. “I have been piecing things together. The result is + rather curious, and still very mystifying, still leaving a deal to be + explained, and somehow this wallet doesn’t fit into the scheme at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall tell me about it as we ride into Lisbon. I want you to come + with me. Lady O’Moy must forgive me if I take French leave, since she is + nowhere to be found.” + </p> + <p> + The truth was, that her ladyship had purposely gone into hiding, after the + fashion of suffering animals that are denied expression of their pain. She + had gone off with her load of sorrow and anxiety into the thicket on the + flank of Monsanto, and there Sylvia found her presently, dejectedly seated + by a spring on a bank that was thick with flowering violets. Her ladyship + was in tears, her mind swollen to bursting-point by the secret which it + sought to contain but felt itself certainly unable to contain much longer. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Una dear,” cried Miss Armytage, kneeling beside her and putting a + motherly arm about that full-grown child, “what is this?” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship wept copiously, the springs of her grief gushing forth in + response to that sympathetic touch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, I am so distressed. I shall go mad, I think. I am sure I + have never deserved all this trouble. I have always been considerate of + others. You know I wouldn’t give pain to any one. And—and Dick has + always been so thoughtless.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick?” said Miss Armytage, and there was less sympathy in her voice. “It + is Dick you are thinking about at present?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. All this trouble has come through Dick. I mean,” she + recovered, “that all my troubles began with this affair of Dick’s. And now + there is Ned under arrest and to be court-martialled.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has Captain Tremayne to do with Dick?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, of course,” her ladyship agreed, with more than usual + self-restraint. “But it’s one trouble on another. Oh, it’s more than I can + bear.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my dear, I know,” Miss Armytage said soothingly, and her own + voice was not so steady. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know! How can you? It isn’t your brother or your friend. It + isn’t as if you cared very much for either of them. If you did, if you + loved Dick or Ned, you might realise what I am suffering.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage’s eyes looked straight ahead into the thick green foliage, + and there was an odd smile, half wistful, half scornful, on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yet I have done what I could,” she said presently. “I have spoken to Lord + Wellington about them both.” + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy checked her tears to look at her companion, and there was dread + in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken to Lord Wellington?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The opportunity came, and I took it.” + </p> + <p> + “And whatever did you tell him?” She was all a-tremble now, as she + clutched Miss Armytage’s hand. + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage related what had passed; how she had explained the true + facts of Dick’s case to his lordship; how she had protested her faith that + Tremayne was incapable of lying, and that if he said he had not killed + Samoval it was certain that he had not done so; and, finally, how his + lordship had promised to bear both cases in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “That doesn’t seem very much,” her ladyship complained. + </p> + <p> + “But he said that he would never allow a British officer to be made a + scapegoat, and that if things proved to be as I stated them he would see + that the worst that happened to Dick would be his dismissal from the army. + He asked me to let him know immediately if Dick were found.” + </p> + <p> + More than ever was her ladyship on the very edge of confiding. A chance + word might have broken down the last barrier of her will. But that word + was not spoken, and so she was given the opportunity of first consulting + her brother. + </p> + <p> + He laughed when he heard the story. + </p> + <p> + “A trap to take me, that’s all,” he pronounced it. “My dear girl, that + stiff-necked martinet knows nothing of forgiveness for a military offence. + Discipline is the god at whose shrine he worships.” And he afforded her + anecdotes to illustrate and confirm his assertion of Lord Wellington’s + ruthlessness. “I tell you,” he concluded, “it’s nothing but a trap to + catch me. And if you had been fool enough to yield, and to have blabbed of + my presence to Sylvia, you would have had it proved to you.” + </p> + <p> + She was terrified and of course convinced, for she was easy of conviction, + believing always the last person to whom she spoke. She sat down on one of + the boxes that furnished that cheerless refuge of Mr. Butler’s. + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s to become of Ned?” she cried. “Oh, I had hoped that we had + found a way out at last.” + </p> + <p> + He raised himself on his elbow on the camp-bed they had fitted up for him. + </p> + <p> + “Be easy now,” he bade her impatiently. “They can’t do anything to Ned + until they find him guilty; and how are they going to find him guilty when + he’s innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the appearances!” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlesticks!” he answered her—and the expression chosen was a mere + concession to her sex, and not at all what Mr. Butler intended. + “Appearances can’t establish guilt. Do be sensible, and remember that they + will have to prove that he killed Samoval. And you can’t prove a thing to + be what it isn’t. You can’t!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Certain sure,” he replied with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I shall have to give evidence before the court?” she + announced resentfully. + </p> + <p> + It was an announcement that gave him pause. Thoughtfully he stroked his + abominable tuft of red beard. Then he dismissed the matter with a shrug + and a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what of it?” he cried. “They are not likely to bully you or + cross-examine you. Just tell them what you saw from the balcony. Indeed + you can’t very well say anything else, or they will see that you are + lying, and then heaven alone knows what may happen to you, as well as to + me.” + </p> + <p> + She got up in a pet. “You’re callous, Dick—callous!” she told him. + “Oh, I wish you had never come to me for shelter.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her and sneered. “That’s a matter you can soon mend,” he told + her. “Call up Terence and the others and have me shot. I promise I shall + make no resistance. You see, I’m not able to resist even if I would.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can you think it?” She was indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is a poor devil to think? You blow hot and cold all in a + breath. I’m sick and ill and feverish,” he continued with self-pity, “and + now even you find me a trouble. I wish to God they’d shoot me and make an + end. I’m sure it would be best for everybody.” + </p> + <p> + And now she was on her knees beside him, soothing him; protesting that he + had misunderstood her; that she had meant—oh, she didn’t know what + she had meant, she was so distressed on his account. + </p> + <p> + “And there’s never the need to be,” he assured her. “Surely you can be + guided by me if you want to help me. As soon as ever my leg gets well + again I’ll be after fending for myself, and trouble you no further. But if + you want to shelter me until then, do it thoroughly, and don’t give way to + fear at every shadow without substance that falls across your path.” + </p> + <p> + She promised it, and on that promise left him; and, believing him, she + bore herself more cheerfully for the remainder of the day. But that + evening after they had dined her fears and anxieties drove her at last to + seek her natural and legal protector. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence had sauntered off towards the house, gloomy and silent as he + had been throughout the meal. She ran after him now, and came tripping + lightly at his side up the steps. She put her arm through his. + </p> + <p> + “Terence dear, you are not going back to work again?” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and from his fine height looked down upon her with a curious + smile. Slowly he disengaged his arm from the clasp of her own. “I am + afraid I must,” he answered coldly. “I have a great deal to do, and I am + short of a secretary. When this inquiry is over I shall have more time to + myself, perhaps.” There was something so repellent in his voice, in his + manner of uttering those last words, that she stood rebuffed and watched + him vanish into the building. + </p> + <p> + Then she stamped her foot and her pretty mouth trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Oaf!” she said aloud. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE EVIDENCE + </h2> + <p> + The board of officers convened by Marshal Beresford to form the court that + was to try Captain Tremayne, was presided over by General Sir Harry + Stapleton, who was in command of the British troops quartered in Lisbon. + It included, amongst others, the adjutant-general, Sir Terence O’Moy; + Colonel Fletcher of the Engineers, who had come in haste from Torres + Vedras, having first desired to be included in the board chiefly on + account of his friendship for Tremayne; and Major Carruthers. The + judge-advocate’s task of conducting the case against the prisoner was + deputed to the quartermaster of Tremayne’s own regiment, Major Swan. + </p> + <p> + The court sat in a long, cheerless hall, once the refectory of the + Franciscans, who had been the first tenants of Monsanto. It was + stone-flagged, the windows set at a height of some ten feet from the + ground, the bare, whitewashed walls hung with very wooden portraits of + long-departed kings and princes of Portugal who had been benefactors of + the order. + </p> + <p> + The court occupied the abbot’s table, which was set on a shallow dais at + the end of the room—a table of stone with a covering of oak, over + which a green cloth had been spread; the officers—twelve in number, + besides the president—sat with their backs to the wall, immediately + under the inevitable picture of the Last Supper. + </p> + <p> + The court being sworn, Captain Tremayne was brought in by the + provost-marshal’s guard and given a stool placed immediately before and a + few paces from the table. Perfectly calm and imperturbable, he saluted the + court, and sat down, his guards remaining some paces behind him. + </p> + <p> + He had declined all offers of a friend to represent him, on the grounds + that the court could not possibly afford him a case to answer. + </p> + <p> + The president, a florid, rather pompous man, who spoke with a faint lisp, + cleared his throat and read the charge against the prisoner from the sheet + with which he had been supplied—the charge of having violated the + recent enactment against duelling made by the Commander-in-Chief of his + Majesty’s forces in the Peninsula, in so far as he had fought: a duel with + Count Jeronymo de Samoval, and of murder in so far as that duel, conducted + in an irregular manner, and without any witnesses, had resulted in the + death of the said Count Jeronymo de Samoval. + </p> + <p> + “How say you, then, Captain Tremayne?” the judge-advocate challenged him. + “Are you guilty of these charges or not guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Not guilty.” + </p> + <p> + The president sat back and observed the prisoner with an eye that was + officially benign. Tremayne’s glance considered the court and met the + concerned and grave regard of his colonel, of his friend Carruthers and of + two other friends of his own regiment, the cold indifference of three + officers of the Fourteenth—then stationed in Lisbon with whom he was + unacquainted, and the utter inscrutability of O’Moy’s rather lowering + glance, which profoundly intrigued him, and, lastly, the official + hostility of Major Swan, who was on his feet setting forth the case + against him. Of the remaining members of the court he took no heed. + </p> + <p> + From the opening address it did not seem to Captain Tremayne as if this + case—which had been hurriedly prepared by Major Swan, chiefly that + same morning would amount to very much. Briefly the major announced his + intention of establishing to the satisfaction of the court how, on the + night of the 28th of May, the prisoner, in flagrant violation of an + enactment in a general order of the 26th of that same month, had engaged + in a duel with Count Jeronymo de Samoval, a peer of the realm of Portugal. + </p> + <p> + Followed a short statement of the case from the point of view of the + prosecution, an anticipation of the evidence to be called, upon which the + major thought—rather sanguinely, opined Captain Tremayne—to + convict the accused. He concluded with an assurance that the evidence of + the prisoner’s guilt was as nearly direct as evidence could be in a case + of murder. + </p> + <p> + The first witness called was the butler, Mullins. He was introduced by the + sergeant-major stationed by the double doors at the end of the hall from + the ante-room where the witnesses commanded to be present were in waiting. + </p> + <p> + Mullins, rather less venerable than usual, as a consequence of agitation + and affliction on behalf of Captain Tremayne, to whom he was attached, + stated nervously the facts within his knowledge. He was occupied with the + silver in his pantry, having remained up in case Sir Terence, who was + working late in his study, should require anything before going to bed. + Sir Terence called him, and— + </p> + <p> + “At what time did Sir Terence call you?” asked the major. + </p> + <p> + “It was ten minutes past twelve, sir, by the clock in my pantry.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure that the clock was right?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure, sir; I had put it right that same evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Sir Terence called you at ten minutes past twelve. Pray + continue.” + </p> + <p> + “He gave me a letter addressed to the Commissary-general. ‘Take that,’ + says he, ‘to the sergeant of the guard at once, and tell him to be sure + that it is forwarded to the Commissary-General first thing in the + morning.’ I went out at once, and on the lawn in the quadrangle I saw a + man lying on his back on the grass and another man kneeling beside him. I + ran across to them. It was a bright, moonlight night—bright as day + it was, and you could see quite clear. The gentleman that was kneeling + looks up, at me, and I sees it was Captain Tremayne, sir. ‘What’s this, + Captain dear?’ says I. ‘It’s Count Samoval, and he’s kilt,’ says he, ‘for + God’s sake, go and fetch somebody.’ So I ran back to tell Sir Terence, and + Sir Terence he came out with me, and mighty startled he was at what he + found there. ‘What’s happened?’ says he, and the captain answers him just + as he had answered me: ‘It’s Count Samoval, and he’s kilt. ‘But how did it + happen?’ says Sir Terence. ‘Sure and that’s just what I want to know,’ + says the captain; ‘I found him here.’ And then Sir Terence turns to me, + and ‘Mullins,’ says he, ‘just fetch the guard,’ and of course, I went at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any one else present?” asked the prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the quadrangle, sir. But Lady O’Moy was on the balcony of her room + all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you fetched the guard. What happened when you returned?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Grant arrived, sir, and I understood him to say that he had been + following Count Samoval...” + </p> + <p> + “Which way did Colonel Grant come?” put in the president. + </p> + <p> + “By the gate from the terrace.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it open?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Sir Terence himself went to open the wicket when Colonel Grant + knocked.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry nodded and Major Swan resumed the examination. + </p> + <p> + “What happened next?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Terence ordered the captain under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Captain Tremayne submit at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not quite at once, sir. He naturally made some bother. ‘Good God!’ + he says, ‘ye’ll never be after thinking I kilt him? I tell you I just + found him here like this.’ ‘What were ye doing here, then?’ says Sir + Terence. ‘I was coming to see you,’ says the captain. ‘What about?’ says + Sir Terence, and with that the captain got angry, said he refused to be + cross-questioned and went off to report himself under arrest as he was + bid.” + </p> + <p> + That closed the butler’s evidence, and the judge-advocate looked across at + the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any questions for the witness?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “None,” replied Captain Tremayne. “He has given his evidence very + faithfully and accurately.” + </p> + <p> + Major Swan invited the court to question the witness in any manner it + considered desirable. The only one to avail himself of the invitation was + Carruthers, who, out of his friendship and concern for Tremayne—and + a conviction of Tremayne’s innocence begotten chiefly by that friendship + desired to bring out anything that might tell in his favour. + </p> + <p> + “What was Captain Tremayne’s bearing when he spoke to you and to Sir + Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite as usual, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He was quite calm, not at all perturbed?” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a bit; not until Sir Terence ordered him under arrest, and then he + was a little hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mullins.” + </p> + <p> + Dismissed by the court, Mullins would have departed, but that upon being + told by the sergeant-major that he was at liberty to remain if he chose he + found a seat on one of the benches ranged against the wall. + </p> + <p> + The next witness was Sir Terence, who gave his evidence quietly from his + place at the board immediately on the president’s right. He was pale, but + otherwise composed, and the first part of his evidence was no more than a + confirmation of what Mullins had said, an exact and strictly truthful + statement of the circumstances as he had witnessed them from the moment + when Mullins had summoned him. + </p> + <p> + “You were present, I believe, Sir Terence,” said Major Swan, “at an + altercation that arose on the previous day between Captain Tremayne and + the deceased?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It happened at lunch here at Monsanto.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the nature of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Count Samoval permitted himself to criticise adversely Lord Wellington’s + enactment against duelling, and Captain Tremayne defended it. They became + a little heated, and the fact was mentioned that Samoval himself was a + famous swordsman. Captain Tremayne made the remark that famous swordsmen + were required by Count Samoval’s country to, save it from invasion. The + remark was offensive to the deceased, and although the subject was + abandoned out of regard for the ladies present, it was abandoned on a + threat from Count Samoval to continue it later.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it so continued?” + </p> + <p> + “Of that I have no knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Invited to cross-examine the witness, Captain Tremayne again declined, + admitting freely that all that Sir Terence had said was strictly true. + Then Carruthers, who appeared to be intent to act as the prisoner’s + friend, took up the examination of his chief. + </p> + <p> + “It is of course admitted that Captain Tremayne enjoyed free access to + Monsanto practically at all hours in his capacity as your military + secretary, Sir Terence?” + </p> + <p> + “Admitted,” said Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “And it is therefore possible that he might have come upon the body of the + deceased just as Mullins came upon it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible, certainly. The evidence to come will no doubt determine + whether it is a tenable opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Admitting this, then, the attitude in which Captain Tremayne was + discovered would be a perfectly natural one? It would be natural that he + should investigate the identity and hurt of the man he found there?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “But it would hardly be natural that he should linger by the body of a man + he had himself slain, thereby incurring the risk of being discovered?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a question for the court rather than for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Terence.” And, as no one else desired to question him, Sir + Terence resumed his seat, and Lady O’Moy was called. + </p> + <p> + She came in very white and trembling, accompanied by Miss Armytage, whose + admittance was suffered by the court, since she would not be called upon + to give evidence. One of the officers of the Fourteenth seated on the + extreme right of the table made gallant haste to set a chair for her + ladyship, which she accepted gratefully. + </p> + <p> + The oath administered, she was invited gently by Major Swan to tell the + court what she knew of the case before them. + </p> + <p> + “But—but I know nothing,” she faltered in evident distress, and Sir + Terence, his elbow leaning on the table, covered his mouth with his hand + that its movements might not betray him. His eyes glowered upon her with a + ferocity that was hardly dissembled. + </p> + <p> + “If you will take the trouble to tell the court what you saw from your + balcony,” the major insisted, “the court will be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Perceiving her agitation, and attributing it to nervousness, moved also by + that delicate loveliness of hers, and by deference to the + adjutant-generates lady, Sir Harry Stapleton intervened. + </p> + <p> + “Is Lady O’Moy’s evidence really necessary?” he asked. “Does it contribute + any fresh fact regarding the discovery of the body?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” Major Swan admitted. “It is merely a corroboration of what we + have already heard from Mullins and Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why unnecessarily distress this lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for my own part, sir—” the prosecutor was submitting, when Sir + Terence cut in: + </p> + <p> + “I think that in the prisoner’s interest perhaps Lady O’Moy will not mind + being distressed a little.” It was at her he looked, and for her and + Tremayne alone that he intended the cutting lash of sarcasm concealed from + the rest of the court by his smooth accent. “Mullins has said, I think, + that her ladyship was on the balcony when he came into the quadrangle. Her + evidence therefore, takes us further back in point of time than does + Mullins’s.” Again the sarcastic double meaning was only for those two. + “Considering that the prisoner is being tried for his life, I do not think + we should miss anything that may, however slightly, affect our judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Terence is right, I think, sir,” the judge-advocate supported. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” said the president. “Proceed, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be good enough to tell the court, Lady O’Moy, how you came to be + upon the balcony?” + </p> + <p> + Her pallor had deepened, and her eyes looked more than ordinarily large + and child-like as they turned this way and that to survey the members of + the court. Nervously she dabbed her lips with a handkerchief before + answering mechanically as she had been schooled: + </p> + <p> + “I heard a cry, and I ran out—” + </p> + <p> + “You were in bed at the time, of course?” quoth her husband, interrupting. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth has that to do with it, Sir Terence?” the president rebuked + him, out of his earnest desire to cut this examination as short as + possible. + </p> + <p> + “The question, sir, does not seem to me to be without point,” replied + O’Moy. He was judicially smooth and self-contained. “It is intended to + enable us to form an opinion as to the lapse of time between her + ladyship’s hearing the cry and reaching the balcony.” + </p> + <p> + Grudgingly the president admitted the point, and the question was + repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” came Lady O’Moy’s tremulous, faltering answer, “I was in bed.” + </p> + <p> + “But not asleep—or were you asleep?” rapped O’Moy again, and in + answer to the president’s impatient glance again explained himself: “We + should know whether perhaps the cry might not have been repeated several + times before her ladyship heard it. That is of value.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be more regular,” ventured the judge-advocate, “if Sir Terence + would reserve his examination of the witness until she has given her + evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” grumbled Sir Terence, and he sat back, foiled for the moment + in his deliberate intent to torture her into admissions that must betray + her if made. + </p> + <p> + “I was not asleep,” she told the court, thus answering her husband’s last + question. “I heard the cry, and ran to the balcony at once. That—that + is all.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did you see from the balcony?” asked Major Swan. + </p> + <p> + “It was night, and of course—it—it was dark,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Surely not dark, Lady O’Moy? There was a moon, I think—a full + moon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but—but—there was a good deal of shadow in the garden, + and—and I couldn’t see anything at first.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did eventually?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, eventually! Yes, eventually.” Her fingers were twisting and + untwisting the handkerchief they held, and her distressed loveliness was + very piteous to see. Yet it seems to have occurred to none of them that + this distress and the minor contradictions into which it led her were the + result of her intent to conceal the truth, of her terror lest it should + nevertheless be wrung from her. Only O’Moy, watching her and reading in + her every word and glance and gesture the signs of her falsehood, knew the + hideous thing she strove to hide, even, it seemed, at the cost of her + lover’s life. To his lacerated soul her torture was a balm. Gloating, he + watched her, then, and watched her lover, marvelling at the blackguard’s + complete self-mastery and impassivity even now. + </p> + <p> + Major Swan was urging her gently. + </p> + <p> + “Eventually, then, what was it that you saw?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a man lying on the ground, and another kneeling over him, and then—almost + at once—Mullins came out, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think we need take this any further, Major Swan,” the president + again interposed. “We have heard what happened after Mullins came out.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless the prisoner wishes—” began the judge-advocate. + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” said Tremayne composedly. Although outwardly impassive, he + had been watching her intently, and it was his eyes that had perturbed her + more than anything in that court. It was she who must determine for him + how to proceed; how far to defend himself. He had hoped that by now Dick + Butler might have been got away, so that it would have been safe to tell + the whole truth, although he began to doubt how far that could avail him, + how far, indeed, it would be believed in the absence of Dick Butler. Her + evidence told him that such hopes as he may have entertained had been + idle, and that he must depend for his life simply upon the court’s + inability to bring the guilt home to him. In this he had some confidence, + for, knowing himself innocent, it seemed to him incredible that he could + be proven guilty. Failing that, nothing short of the discovery of the real + slayer of Samoval could save him—and that was a matter wrapped in + the profoundest mystery. The only man who could conceivably have fought + Samoval in such a place was Sir Terence himself. But then it was utterly + inconceivable that in that case Sir Terence, who was the very soul of + honour, should not only keep silent and allow another man to suffer, but + actually sit there in judgment upon that other; and, besides, there was no + quarrel, nor ever had been, between Sir Terence and Samoval. + </p> + <p> + “There is,” Major Swan was saying, “just one other matter upon which I + should like to question Lady O’Moy.” And thereupon he proceeded to do so: + “Your ladyship will remember that on the day before the event in which + Count Samoval met his death he was one of a small luncheon party at your + house here in Monsanto.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, wondering fearfully what might be coming now. + </p> + <p> + “Would your ladyship be good enough to tell the court who were the other + members of that party?” + </p> + <p> + “It—it was hardly a party, sir,” she answered, with her + unconquerable insistence upon trifles. “We were just Sir Terence and + myself, Miss Armytage, Count Samoval, Colonel Grant, Major Carruthers and + Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “Can your ladyship recall any words that passed between the deceased and + Captain Tremayne on that occasion—words of disagreement, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + She knew that there had been something, but in her benumbed state of mind + she was incapable of remembering what it was. All that remained in her + memory was Sylvia’s warning after she and her cousin had left the table, + Sylvia’s insistence that she should call Captain Tremayne away to avoid + trouble between himself and the Count. But, search as she would, the + actual subject of disagreement eluded her. Moreover, it occurred to her + suddenly, and sowed fresh terror in her soul, that, whatever it was, it + would tell against Captain Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “I—I am afraid I don’t remember,” she faltered at last. + </p> + <p> + “Try to think, Lady O’Moy.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I have tried. But I—I can’t.” Her voice had fallen almost + to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Need we insist?” put in the president compassionately. “There are + sufficient witnesses as to what passed on that occasion without further + harassing her ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, sir,” the major agreed in his dry voice. “It only remains for + the prisoner to question the witness if he so wishes.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne shook his head. “It is quite unnecessary, sir,” he assured the + president, and never saw the swift, grim smile that flashed across Sir + Terence’s stern face. + </p> + <p> + Of the court Sir Terence was the only member who could have desired to + prolong the painful examination of her ladyship. But he perceived from the + president’s attitude that he could not do so without betraying the + vindictiveness actuating him; and so he remained silent for the present. + He would have gone so far as to suggest that her ladyship should be + invited to remain in court against the possibility of further evidence + being presently required from her but that he perceived there was no + necessity to do so. Her deadly anxiety concerning the prisoner must in + itself be sufficient to determine her to remain, as indeed it proved. + Accompanied and half supported by Miss Armytage, who was almost as pale as + herself, but otherwise very steady in her bearing, Lady O’Moy made her + way, with faltering steps to the benches ranged against the side wall, and + sat there to hear the remainder of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + After the uninteresting and perfunctory evidence of the sergeant of the + guard who had been present when the prisoner was ordered under arrest, the + next witness called was Colonel Grant. His testimony was strictly in + accordance with the facts which we know him to have witnessed, but when he + was in the middle of his statement an interruption occurred. + </p> + <p> + At the extreme right of the dais on which the table stood there was a + small oaken door set in the wall and giving access to a small ante-room + that was known, rightly or wrongly, as the abbot’s chamber. That anteroom + communicated directly with what was now the guardroom, which accounts for + the new-comer being ushered in that way by the corporal at the time. + </p> + <p> + At the opening of that door the members of the court looked round in sharp + annoyance, suspecting here some impertinent intrusion. The next moment, + however, this was changed to respectful surprise. There was a scraping of + chairs and they were all on their feet in token of respect for the slight + man in the grey undress frock who entered. It was Lord Wellington. + </p> + <p> + Saluting the members of the court with two fingers to his cocked hat, he + immediately desired them to sit, peremptorily waving his hand, and + requesting the president not to allow his entrance to interrupt or + interfere with the course of the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “A chair here for me, if you please, sergeant,” he called and, when it was + fetched, took his seat at the end of the table, with his back to the door + through which he had come and immediately facing the prosecutor. He + retained his hat, but placed his riding-crop on the table before him; and + the only thing he would accept was an officer’s notes of the proceedings + as far as they had gone, which that officer himself was prompt to offer. + With a repeated injunction to the court to proceed, Lord Wellington became + instantly absorbed in the study of these notes. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant, standing very straight and stiff in the originally red coat + which exposure to many weathers had faded to an autumnal brown, continued + and concluded his statement of what he had seen and heard on the night of + the 28th of May in the garden at Monsanto. + </p> + <p> + The judge-advocate now invited him to turn his memory back to the + luncheon-party at Sir Terence’s on the 27th, and to tell the court of the + altercation that had passed on that occasion between Captain Tremayne and + Count Samoval. + </p> + <p> + “The conversation at table,” he replied, “turned, as was perhaps quite + natural, upon the recently published general order prohibiting duelling + and making it a capital offence for officers in his Majesty’s service in + the Peninsula. Count Samoval stigmatised the order as a degrading and + arbitrary one, and spoke in defence of single combat as the only + honourable method of settling differences between gentlemen. Captain + Tremayne dissented rather sharply, and appeared to resent the term + ‘degrading’ applied by the Count to the enactment. Words followed, and + then some one—Lady O’Moy, I think, and as I imagine with intent to + soothe the feelings of Count Samoval, which appeared to be ruffled—appealed + to his vanity by mentioning the fact that he was himself a famous + swordsman. To this Captain Tremayne’s observation was a rather unfortunate + one, although I must confess that I was fully in sympathy with it at the + time. He said, as nearly as I remember, that at the moment Portugal was in + urgent need of famous swords to defend her from invasion and not to + increase the disorders at home.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington looked up from the notes and thoughtfully stroked his + high-bridged nose. His stern, handsome face was coldly impassive, his fine + eyes resting upon the prisoner, but his attention all to what Colonel + Grant was saying. + </p> + <p> + “It was a remark of which Samoval betrayed the bitterest resentment. He + demanded of Captain Tremayne that he should be more precise, and Tremayne + replied that, whilst he had spoken generally, Samoval was welcome to the + cap if he found it fitted him. To that he added a suggestion that, as the + conversation appeared to be tiresome to the ladies, it would be better to + change its topic. Count Samoval consented, but with the promise, rather + threateningly delivered, that it should be continued at another time. + That, sir, is all, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any questions for the witness, Captain Tremayne?” inquired the + judge-advocate. + </p> + <p> + As before, Captain Tremayne’s answer was in the negative, coupled with the + now usual admission that Colonel Grant’s statement accorded perfectly with + his own recollection of the facts. + </p> + <p> + The court, however, desired enlightenment on several subjects. Came first + of all Carruthers’s inquiries as to the bearing of the prisoner when + ordered under arrest, eliciting from Colonel Grant a variant of the usual + reply. + </p> + <p> + “It was not inconsistent with innocence,” he said. + </p> + <p> + It was an answer which appeared to startle the court, and perhaps + Carruthers would have acted best in Tremayne’s interest had he left the + question there. But having obtained so much he eagerly sought for more. + </p> + <p> + “Would you say that it was inconsistent with guilt?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant smiled slowly, and slowly shook his head. “I fear I could + not go so far, as that,” he answered, thereby plunging poor Carruthers + into despair. + </p> + <p> + And now Colonel Fletcher voiced a question agitating the minds of several + members of the count. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Grant,” he said, “you have told us that on the night in question + you had Count Samoval under observation, and that upon word being brought + to you of his movements by one of your agents you yourself followed him to + Monsanto. Would you be good enough to tell the court why you were watching + the deceased’s movements at the time?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant glanced at Lord Wellington. He smiled a little reflectively + and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that the public interest will not allow me to answer your + question. Since, however, Lord Wellington himself is present, I would + suggest that you ask his lordship whether I am to give you the information + you require.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said his lordship crisply, without awaiting further + question. “Indeed, one of my reasons for being present is to ensure that + nothing on that score shall transpire.” + </p> + <p> + There followed a moment’s silence. Then the president ventured a question. + “May we ask, sir, at least whether Colonel Grant’s observation of Count + Samoval resulted from any knowledge of, or expectation of, this duel that + was impending?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you may ask that,” Lord Wellington, consented. + </p> + <p> + “It did not, sir,” said Colonel Grant in answer to the question. + </p> + <p> + “What grounds had you, Colonel Grant, for assuming that Count Samoval was + going to Monsanto?” the president asked. + </p> + <p> + “Chiefly the direction taken.” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we are upon forbidden ground again,” said Colonel Grant, and + again he looked at Lord Wellington for direction. + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the point of the question,” said Lord Wellington, replying + to that glance. “Colonel Grant has quite plainly informed the court that + his observation of Count Samoval had no slightest connection with this + duel, nor was inspired by any knowledge or suspicion on his part that any + such duel was to be fought. With that I think the court should be content. + It has been necessary for Colonel Grant to explain to the court his own + presence at Monsanto at midnight on the 28th. It would have been better, + perhaps, had he simply stated that it was fortuitous, although I can + understand that the court might have hesitated to accept such a statement. + That, however, is really all that concerns the matter. Colonel Grant + happened to be there. That is all that the court need remember. Let me add + the assurance that it would not in the least assist the court to know + more, so far as the case under consideration is concerned.” + </p> + <p> + In view of that the president notified that he had nothing further to ask + the witness, and Colonel Grant saluted and withdrew to a seat near Lady + O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + There followed the evidence of Major Carruthers with regard to the dispute + between Count Samoval and Captain Tremayne, which substantially bore out + what Sir Terence and Colonel Grant had already said, notwithstanding that + it manifested a strong bias in favour of the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “The conversation which Samoval threatened to resume does not appear to + have been resumed,” he added in conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that?” Major Swan asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I may state my opinion, sir,” flashed Carruthers, his chubby face + reddening. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, you may not,” the president assured him. “You are upon oath + to give evidence of facts directly within your own personal knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “It is directly within my own personal knowledge that Captain Tremayne was + called away from the table by Lady O’Moy, and that he did not have another + opportunity of speaking with Count Samoval that day. I saw the Count leave + shortly after, and at the time Captain Tremayne was still with her + ladyship—as her ladyship can testify if necessary. He spent the + remainder of the afternoon with me at work, and we went home together in + the evening. We share the same lodging in Alcantara.” + </p> + <p> + “There was still all of the next day,” said Sir Harry. “Do you say that + the prisoner was never out of your sight on that day too?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not; but I can’t believe—” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you are going to state opinions again,” Major Swan + interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Yet it is evidence of a kind,” insisted Carruthers, with the tenacity of + a bull-dog. He looked as if he would make it a personal matter between + himself and Major Swan if he were not allowed to proceed. “I can’t believe + that Captain Tremayne would have embroiled himself further with Count + Samoval. Captain Tremayne has too high a regard for discipline and for + orders, and he is the least excitable man I have ever known. Nor do I + believe that he would have consented to meet Samoval without my + knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “Not perhaps unless Captain Tremayne desired to keep the matter secret, in + view of the general order, which is precisely what it is contended that he + did.” + </p> + <p> + “Falsely contended, then,” snapped Major Carruthers, to be instantly + rebuked by the president. + </p> + <p> + He sat down in a huff, and the judge-advocate called Private Bates, who + had been on sentry duty on the night of the 28th, to corroborate the + evidence of the sergeant of the guard as to the hour at which the prisoner + had driven up to Monsanto in his curricle. + </p> + <p> + Private Bates having been heard, Major Swan announced that he did not + propose to call any further witnesses, and resumed his seat. Thereupon, to + the president’s invitation, Captain Tremayne replied that he had no + witnesses to call at all. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, Major Swan,” said Sir Harry, “the court will be glad to + hear you further.” + </p> + <p> + And Major Swan came to his feet again to address the court for the + prosecution. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. BITTER WATER + </h2> + <p> + Major Swan may or may not have been a gifted soldier. History is silent on + the point. But the surviving records of the court-martial with which we + are concerned go to show that he was certainly not a gifted speaker. His + vocabulary was limited, his rhetoric clumsy, and Major Carruthers + denounces his delivery as halting, his very voice dull and monotonous; + also his manner, reflecting his mind on this occasion, appears to have + been perfectly unimpassioned. He had been saddled with a duty and he must + perform it. He would do so conscientiously to the best of his ability, for + he seems to have been a conscientious man; but he could not be expected to + put his heart into the matter, since he was not inflamed by any zeal born + of conviction, nor had he any of the incentives of a civil advocate to + sway his audience by all possible means. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless the facts themselves, properly marshalled, made up a + dangerous case against the prisoner. Major Swan began by dwelling upon the + evidence of motive: there had been a quarrel, or the beginnings of a + quarrel, between the deceased and the accused; the deceased had shown + himself affronted, and had been heard quite unequivocally to say that the + matter could not be left at the stage at which it was interrupted at Sir + Terence’s luncheon-table. Major Swan dwelt for a moment upon the grounds + of the quarrel. They were by no means discreditable to the accused, but it + was singularly unfortunate, ironical almost, that he should have involved + himself in a duel as a result of his out-spoken defence of a wise measure + which made duelling in the British army a capital offence. With that, + however, he did not think that the court was immediately concerned. By the + duel itself the accused had offended against the recent enactment, and, + moreover, the irregular manner in which the encounter had been conducted, + without seconds or witnesses, rendered the accused answerable to a charge + of murder, if it could be proved that he actually did engage and kill the + deceased. Major Swan thought this could be proved. + </p> + <p> + The irregularity of the meeting must be assigned to the enactment against + which it offended. A matter which, under other circumstances, considering + the good character borne by Captain Tremayne, would have been quite + incomprehensible, was, he thought, under existing circumstances, perfectly + clear. Because Captain Tremayne could not have found any friend to act for + him, he was forced to forgo witnesses to the encounter, and because of the + consequences to himself of the encounter’s becoming known, he was forced + to contrive that it should be held in secret. They knew, from the evidence + of Colonel Grant and Major Carruthers, that the meeting was desired by + Count Samoval, and they were therefore entitled to assume that, + recognising the conditions arising out of the recent enactment, the + deceased had consented that the meeting should take place in this + irregular fashion, since otherwise it could not have been held at all, and + he would have been compelled to forgo the satisfaction he desired. + </p> + <p> + He passed to the consideration of the locality chosen, and there he + confessed that he was confronted with a mystery. Yet the mystery would + have been no less in the case of any other opponent than Captain Tremayne, + since it was clear beyond all doubt that a duel had been fought and Count + Samoval killed, and no less clear that it was a premeditated combat, and + that the deceased had gone to Monsanto expressly to engage in it, since + the duelling swords found had been identified as his property and must + have been carried by him to the encounter. + </p> + <p> + The mystery, he repeated, would have been no less in the case of any other + opponent than Captain Tremayne; indeed, in the case of some other opponent + it might even have been deeper. It must be remembered, after all, that the + place was one to which the accused had free access at all hours. + </p> + <p> + And it was clearly proven that he availed himself of that access on the + night in question. Evidence had been placed before the court showing that + he had come to Monsanto in a curricle at twenty minutes to twelve at the + latest, and there was abundant evidence to show that he was found kneeling + beside the body of the dead man at ten minutes past twelve—the body + being quite warm at the time and the breath hardly out of it, proving that + he had fallen but an instant before the arrival of Mullins and the other + witnesses who had testified. + </p> + <p> + Unless Captain Tremayne could account to the satisfaction of the court for + the manner in which he had spent that half-hour, Major Swan did not + perceive, when all the facts of motive and circumstance were considered, + what conclusion the court could reach other than that Captain Tremayne was + guilty of the death of Count Jeronymo de Samoval in a single combat fought + under clandestine and irregular conditions, transforming the deed into + technical murder. + </p> + <p> + Upon that conclusion the major sat down to mop a brow that was perspiring + freely. From Lady O’Moy in the background came faintly, the sound of a + half-suppressed moan. Terrified, she clutched the hand of Miss Armytage,—and + found that hand to lie like a thing of ice in her own, yet she suspected + nothing of the deep agitation under her companion’s outward appearance of + calm. + </p> + <p> + Captain Tremayne rose slowly to address the court in reply to the + prosecution. As he faced his, judges now he met the smouldering eyes of + Sir Terence considering him with such malevolence that he was shocked and + bewildered. Was he prejudged already, and by his best friend? If so, what + must be the attitude of the others? But the kindly, florid countenance of + the president was friendly and encouraging; there was eager anxiety for + him in the gaze of his friend Caruthers. He glanced at Lord Wellington + sitting at the table’s end sternly inscrutable, a mere spectator, yet one + whose habit of command gave him an air that was authoritative and + judicial. + </p> + <p> + At length he began to speak. He had considered his defence, and he had + based it mainly upon a falsehood—since the strict truth must have + proved ruinous to Richard Butler. + </p> + <p> + “My answer, gentlemen,” he said, “will be a very brief one as brief, + indeed, as the prosecution merits—for I entertain the hope that no + member of this court is satisfied that the case made out against me is by + any means complete.” He spoke easily, fluently, and calmly: a man + supremely self-controlled. “It amounts, indeed, to throwing upon me the + onus of proving myself innocent, and that is a burden which no British + laws, civil or miliary, would ever commit the injustice of imposing upon + an accused. + </p> + <p> + “That certain words of disagreement passed between Count Samoval and + myself on the eve of the affair in which the Count met his death, as you + have heard from various witnesses, I at once and freely admitted. Thereby + I saved the court time and trouble, and some other witnesses who might + have been caused the distress of having to testify against me. But that + the dispute ever had any sequel, that the further subsequent discussion + threatened at the time by Count Samoval ever took place, I most solemnly + deny. From the moment that I left Sir Terence’s luncheon-table on the + Saturday I never set eyes on Count Samoval again until I discovered him + dead or dying in the garden here at Monsanto on Sunday night. I can call + no witnesses to support me in this, because it is not a matter susceptible + to proof by evidence. Nor have I troubled to call the only witnesses I + might have called—witnesses as to my character and my regard for + discipline—who might have testified that any such encounter as that + of which I am accused would be utterly foreign to my nature. There are + officers in plenty in his Majesty’s service who could bear witness that + the practice of duelling is one that I hold in the utmost abhorrence, + since I have frequently avowed it, and since in all my life I have never + fought a single duel. My service in his Majesty’s army has happily + afforded me the means of dispensing with any such proof of courage as the + duel is supposed to give. I say I might have called witnesses to that fact + and I have not done so. This is because, fortunately, there are several + among the members of this court to whom I have been known for many years, + and who can themselves, when this court comes to consider its finding, + support my present assertion. + </p> + <p> + “Let me ask you, then, gentlemen, whether it is conceivable that, + entertaining such feelings as these towards single combat, I should have + been led to depart from them under circumstances that might very well have + afforded me an ample shield for refusing satisfaction to a too eager and + pressing adversary? It was precisely because I hold the duel in such + contempt that I spoke with such asperity to the deceased when he + pronounced Lord Wellington’s enactment a degrading one to men of birth. + The very sentiments which I then expressed proclaimed my antipathy to the + practice. How, then, should I have committed the inconsistency of + accepting a challenge upon such grounds from Count Samoval? There is even + more irony than Major Swan supposes in a situation which himself has + called ironical. + </p> + <p> + “So much, then, for the motives that are alleged to have actuated me. I + hope you will conclude that I have answered the prosecution upon that + matter. + </p> + <p> + “Coming to the question of fact, I cannot find that there is anything to + answer, for nothing has been proved against me. True, it has been proved + that I arrived at Monsanto at half-past eleven or twenty minutes to twelve + on the night of the 28th, and it has been further proved that half-an-hour + later I was discovered kneeling beside the dead body of Count Samoval. But + to say that this proves that I killed him is more, I think, if I + understood him correctly, than Major Swan himself dares to assert. + </p> + <p> + “Major Swan is quite satisfied that Samoval came to Monsanto for the + purpose of fighting a duel that had been prearranged; and I admit that the + two swords found, which have been proven the property of Count Samoval, + and which, therefore, he must have brought with him, are a prima-facie + proof of such a contention. But if we assume, gentlemen, that I had + accepted a challenge from the Count, let me ask you, can you think of any + place less likely to have been appointed or agreed to by me for the + encounter than the garden of the adjutant-general’s quarters? Secrecy is + urged as the reason for the irregularity of the meeting. What secrecy was + ensured in such a place, where interruption and discovery might come at + any moment, although the duel was held at midnight? And what secrecy did I + observe in my movements, considering that I drove openly to Monsanto in a + curricle, which I left standing at the gates in full view of the guard, to + await my return? Should I have acted thus if I had been upon such an + errand as is alleged? Common sense, I think, should straightway acquit me + on the grounds of the locality alone, and I cannot think that it should + even be necessary for me, so as to complete my answer to an accusation + entirely without support in fact or in logic, to account for my presence + at Monsanto and my movements during the half-hour in question.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. So far his clear reasoning had held and impressed the court. + This he saw plainly written on the faces of all—with one single + exception. Sir Terence alone the one man from whom he might have looked + for the greatest relief—watched him ever malevolently, sardonically, + with curling lip. It gave him pause now that he stood upon the threshold + of falsehood; and because of that inexplicable but obvious hostility, that + attitude of expectancy to ensnare and destroy him, Captain Tremayne + hesitated to step from the solid ground of reason, upon which he had + confidently walked thus far, on to the uncertain bogland of mendacity. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think,” he said, “that the court should consider it necessary + for me to advance an alibi, to make a statement in proof of my innocence + where I contend that no proof has been offered of my guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it will be better, sir, in your own interests, so that you may be + the more completely cleared,” the president replied, and so compelled him + to continue. + </p> + <p> + “There was,” he resumed, then, “a certain matter connected with the + Commissary-General’s department which was of the greatest urgency, yet + which, under stress of work, had been postponed until the morrow. It was + concerned with some tents for General Picton’s division at Celorico. It + occurred to me that night that it would be better dealt with at once, so + that the documents relating to it could go forward early on Monday morning + to the Commissary-General. Accordingly, I returned to Monsanto, entered + the official quarters, and was engaged upon that task when a cry from the + garden reached my ears. That cry in the dead of night was sufficiently + alarming, and I ran out at once to see what might have occasioned it. I + found Count Samoval either just dead or just dying, and I had scarcely + made the discovery when Mullins, the butler, came out of the residential + wing, as he has testified. + </p> + <p> + “That, sirs, is all that I know of the death of Count Samoval, and I will + conclude with my solemn affirmation, on my honour as a soldier, that I am + as innocent of having procured it as I am ignorant of how it came about. + </p> + <p> + “I leave myself with confidence in your hands, gentlemen,” he ended, and + resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + That he had favourably impressed the court was clear. Miss Armytage + whispered it to Lady O’Moy, exultation quivering in her whisper. + </p> + <p> + “He is safe!” And she added: “He was magnificent.” + </p> + <p> + Lady O’Moy pressed her hand in return. “Thank God! Oh, thank God!” she + murmured under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Miss Armytage. + </p> + <p> + There was silence, broken only by the rustle of the president’s notes as + he briefly looked them over as a preliminary to addressing the court. And + then suddenly, grating harshly upon that silence, came the voice of O’Moy. + </p> + <p> + “Might I suggest, Sir Harry, that before we hear you three of the + witnesses be recalled? They are Sergeant Flynn, Private Bates and + Mullins.” + </p> + <p> + The president looked round in surprise, and Carruthers took advantage of + the pause to interpose an objection. + </p> + <p> + “Is such a course regular, Sir Harry?” He too had become conscious at last + of Sir Terence’s relentless hostility to the accused. “The court has been + given an opportunity of examining those witnesses, the accused has + declined to call any on his own behalf, and the prosecution has already + closed its case.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry considered a moment. He had never been very clear upon matters + of procedure, which he looked upon as none of a soldier’s real business. + Instinctively in this difficulty he looked at Lord Wellington as if for + guidance; but his lordship’s face told him absolutely nothing, the + Commander-in-Chief remaining an impassive spectator. Then, whilst the + president coughed and pondered, Major Swan came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “The court,” said the judge-advocate, “is entitled at any time before the + finding to call or recall any witnesses, provided that the prisoner is + afforded an opportunity of answering anything further that may be elicited + in re-examination of these witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the rule,” said Sir Terence, “and rightly so, for, as in the + present instance, the prisoner’s own statement may make it necessary.” + </p> + <p> + The president gave way, thereby renewing Miss Armytage’s terrors and + shaking at last even the prisoner’s calm. + </p> + <p> + Sergeant Flynn was the first of the witnesses recalled at Sir Terence’s + request, and it was Sir Terence who took up his re-examination. + </p> + <p> + “You said, I think, that you were standing in the guardroom doorway when + Captain Tremayne passed you at twenty minutes to twelve on the night of + the 28th?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I had turned out upon hearing the curricle draw up. I had come + to see who it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. Well, now, did you observe which way Captain Tremayne went?—whether + he went along the passage leading to the garden or up the stairs to the + offices?” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant considered for a moment, and Captain Tremayne became + conscious for the first time that morning that his pulses were throbbing. + At last his dreadful suspense came to an end. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Captain Tremayne turned the corner, and was out of my sight, + seeing that I didn’t go beyond the guardroom doorway.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence’s lips parted with a snap of impatience. “But you must have + heard,” he insisted. “You must have heard his steps—whether they + went upstairs or straight on.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I didn’t take notice, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But even without taking notice it seems impossible that you should not + have heard the direction of his steps. Steps going up stairs sound quite + differently from steps walking along the level. Try to think.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant considered again. But the president interposed. The testiness + which Sir Terence had been at no pains to conceal annoyed Sir Harry, and + this insistence offended his sense of fair play. + </p> + <p> + “The witness has already said that the didn’t take notice. I am afraid it + can serve no good purpose to compel him to strain his memory. The court + could hardly rely upon his answer after what he has said already.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Sir Terence curtly. “We will pass on. After the body of + Count Samoval had been removed from the courtyard, did Mullins, my butler, + come to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his message? Please tell the court.” + </p> + <p> + “He brought me a letter with instructions that it was to be forwarded + first thing in the morning to the Commissary-General’s office.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he make any statement beyond that when he delivered that letter?” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant pondered a moment. “Only that he had been bringing it when he + found Count Samoval’s body.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I wish to ask, Sir Harry,” O’Moy intimated, and looked round + at his fellow-members of that court as if to inquire whether they had + drawn any inference from the sergeant’s statements. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any questions to ask the witness, Captain Tremayne?” the + president inquired. + </p> + <p> + “None, sir,” replied the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Came Private Bates next, and Sir Terence proceeded to question him.. + </p> + <p> + “You said in your evidence that Captain Tremayne arrived at Monsanto + between half-past eleven and twenty minutes to twelve?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You told us, I think, that you determined this by the fact that you came + on duty at eleven o’clock, and that it would be half-an-hour or a little + more after that when Captain Tremayne arrived?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite in agreement with the evidence of your sergeant. Now tell + the court where you were during the half-hour that followed—until + you heard the guard being turned out by the sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + “Pacing in front of quarters, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice the windows of the building at all during that time?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say that I did, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” echoed the private. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—why not? Don’t repeat my words. How did it happen that you + didn’t notice the windows?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they were in darkness, sir.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy’s eyes gleamed. “All of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir, all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite certain of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite certain, sir. If a light had shown from one of them I couldn’t + have failed to notice it.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne—” began the president. + </p> + <p> + “I have no questions for the witness, sir,” Tremayne announced. + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry’s face expressed surprise. “After the statement he has just + made?” he exclaimed, and thereupon he again invited the prisoner, in a + voice that was as grave as his countenance, to cross-examine he witness; + he did more than invite—he seemed almost to plead. But Tremayne, + preserving by a miracle his outward calm, for all that inwardly he was + filled with despair and chagrin to see what a pit he had dug for himself + by his falsehood, declined to ask any questions. + </p> + <p> + Private Bates retired, and Mullins was recalled. A gloom seemed to have + settled now upon the court. A moment ago their way had seemed fairly clear + to its members, and they had been inwardly congratulating themselves that + they were relieved from the grim necessity of passing sentence upon a + brother officer esteemed by all who knew him. But now a subtle change had + crept in. The statement drawn by Sir Terence from the sentry appeared + flatly to contradict Captain Tremayne’s own account of his movements on + the night in question. + </p> + <p> + “You told the court,” O’Moy addressed the witness Mullins, consulting his + notes as he did so, “that on the night on which Count Samoval met his + death, I sent you at ten minutes past twelve to take a letter to the + sergeant of the guard, an urgent letter which was to be forwarded to its + destination first thing on the following morning. And it was in fact in + the course of going upon this errand that you discovered the prisoner + kneeling beside the body of Count Samoval. This is correct, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you now inform the court to whom that letter was addressed?” + </p> + <p> + “It was addressed to the Commissary-General.” + </p> + <p> + “You read the superscription?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure whether I did that, but I clearly remember, sir, that you + told me at the time that it was for the Commissary-General.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence signified that he had no more to ask, and again the president + invited the prisoner to question the witness, to receive again the + prisoner’s unvarying refusal. + </p> + <p> + And now O’Moy rose in his place to announce that he had himself a further + statement to, make to the court, a statement which he had not conceived + necessary until he had heard the prisoner’s account of his movements + during the half-hour he had spent at Monsanto on the night of the duel. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard from Sergeant Flynn and my butler Mullins that the letter + carried from me by the latter to the former on the night of the 28th was a + letter for the Commissary-General of an urgent character, to be forwarded + first thing in the morning. If the prisoner insists upon it, the + Commissary-General himself may be brought before this court to confirm my + assertion that that communication concerned a complaint from headquarters + on the subject of the tents supplied to the third division Sir Thomas + Picton’s—at Celorico. The documents concerning that complaint—that + is to say, the documents upon which we are to presume that the prisoner + was at work during tine half-hour in question—were at the time in my + possession in my own private study and in another wing of the building + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence sat down amid a rustling stir that ran through the court, but + was instantly summoned to his feet again by the president. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, Sir Terence. The prisoner will no doubt desire to question you + on that statement.” And he looked with serious eyes at Captain Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “I have no questions for Sir Terence, sir,” was his answer. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, what question could he have asked? The falsehoods he had uttered + had woven themselves into a rope about his neck, and he stood before his + brother officers now in an agony of shame, a man discredited, as he + believed. + </p> + <p> + “But no doubt you will desire the presence of the Commissary-General?” + This was from Colonel Fletcher his own colonel and a man who esteemed him—and + it was asked in accents that were pleadingly insistent. + </p> + <p> + “What purpose could it serve, sir? Sir Terence’s words are partly + confirmed by the evidence he has just elicited from Sergeant Flynn and his + butler Mullins. Since he spent the night writing a letter to the + Commissary, it is not to be doubted that the subject would be such as he + states, since from my own knowledge it was the most urgent matter in our + hands. And, naturally, he would not have written without having the + documents at his side. To summon the Commissary-General would be + unnecessarily to waste the time of the court. It follows that I must have + been mistaken, and this I admit.” + </p> + <p> + “But how could you be mistaken?” broke from the president. + </p> + <p> + “I realise your difficulty in crediting, it. But there it is. Mistaken I + was.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” Sir Harry paused and then added “The court will be glad + to hear you in answer to the further evidence adduced to refute your + statement in your own defence.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing further to say, sir,” was Tremayne’s answer. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing further?” The president seemed aghast. “Nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And now Colonel Fletcher leaned forward to exhort him. “Captain Tremayne,” + he said, “let me beg you to realise the serious position in which you are + placed.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, sir, that I realise it fully.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you realise that the statements you have made to account for your + movements during the half-hour that you were at Monsanto have been + disproved? You have heard Private Bates’s evidence to the effect that at + the time when you say you were at work in the offices, those offices + remained in darkness. And you have heard Sir Terence’s statement that the + documents upon which you claim to have been at work were at the time in + his own hands. Do you realise what inference the court will be compelled + to draw from this?” + </p> + <p> + “The court must draw whatever inference it pleases,” answered the captain + without heat. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence stirred. “Captain Tremayne,” said he, “I wish to add my own + exhortation to that of your colonel! Your position has become extremely + perilous. If you are concealing anything that may extricate you from it, + let me enjoin you to take the court frankly and fully into your + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + The words in themselves were kindly, but through them ran a note of + bitterness, of cruel derision, that was faintly perceptible to Tremayne + and to one or two others. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington’s piercing eyes looked a moment at O’Moy, then turned upon + the prisoner. Suddenly he spoke, his voice as calm and level as his + glance. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne—if the president will permit me to address you in + the interests of truth and justice—you bear, to my knowledge, the + reputation of an upright, honourable man. You are a man so unaccustomed to + falsehood that when you adventure upon it, as you have obviously just + done, your performance is a clumsy one, its faults easily distinguished. + That you are concealing something the court must have perceived. If you + are not concealing something other than that Count Samoval fell by your + hand, let me enjoin you to speak out. If you are shielding any one—perhaps + the real perpetrator of this deed—let me assure you that your honour + as a soldier demands, in the interests of truth and justice, that you + should not continue silent.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne looked into the stern face of the great soldier, and his glance + fell away. He made a little gesture of helplessness, then drew himself + stiffly up. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing more to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Captain Tremayne,” said the president, “the court will pass to the + consideration of its finding. And if you cannot account for the half-hour + that you spent at Monsanto while Count Samoval was meeting his death, I am + afraid that, in view of all the other evidences against you, your position + is likely to be one of extremest gravity. + </p> + <p> + “For the last time, sir, before I order your removal, let me add my own to + the exhortations already addressed to you, that you should speak. If still + you elect to remain silent, the court, I fear, will be unable to draw any + conclusion but one from your attitude.” + </p> + <p> + For a long moment Captain Tremayne stood there in tense, expectant + silence. Yet he was not considering; he was waiting. Lady O’Moy he knew to + be in court, behind him. She had heard, even as he had heard, that his + fate hung perhaps upon whether Richard Butler’s presence were to be + betrayed or not. Not for him to break faith with her. Let her decide. And, + awaiting that decision, he stood there, silent, like a man considering. + And then, because no woman’s voice broke the silence to proclaim at once + his innocence, and the alibi that must ensure his acquittal, he spoke at + last. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir. Indeed, I am very grateful to the court for the + consideration it has shown me. I appreciate it deeply, but I have nothing + more to say.” + </p> + <p> + And then, when all seemed lost, a woman’s voice rang out at last: + </p> + <p> + “But I have!” + </p> + <p> + Its sharp, almost strident note acted like an electric discharge upon the + court; but no member of the assembly was more deeply stricken than Captain + Tremayne. For though the voice was a woman’s, yet it was not the voice for + which he had been waiting. + </p> + <p> + In his excitement he turned, to see Miss Armytage standing there, straight + and stiff, her white face stamped with purpose; and beside her, still + seated, clutching her arm in an agony of fear, Lady O’Moy, murmuring for + all to hear her: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Sylvia. Be silent, for God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + But Sylvia had risen to speak, and speak she did, and though the words she + uttered were such as a virgin might wish to whisper with veiled + countenance and averted glance, yet her utterance of them was bold to the + point of defiance. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you why Captain Tremayne is silent. I can tell you whom he + shields.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh God!” gasped Lady O’Moy, wondering through her anguish how Sylvia + could have become possessed of her secret. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Armytage—I implore you!” cried Tremayne, forgetting where he + stood, his voice shaking at last, his hand flung out to silence her. + </p> + <p> + And then the heavy voice of O’Moy crashed in: + </p> + <p> + “Let her speak. Let us have the truth—the truth!” And he smote the + table with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + “And you shall have it,” answered Miss Armytage. “Captain Tremayne keeps + silent to shield a woman—his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence sucked in his breath with a whistling sound. Lady O’Moy + desisted from her attempts to check the speaker and fell to staring at her + in stony astonishment, whilst Tremayne was too overcome by the same + emotion to think of interrupting. The others preserved a watchful, + unbroken silence. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne spent that half-hour at Monsanto in her room. He was + with her when he heard the cry that took him to the window. Thence he saw + the body in the courtyard, and in alarm went down at once—without + considering the consequences to the woman. But because he has considered + them since, he now keeps silent.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, sir,” Captain Tremayne turned in wild appeal to the president, “this + is not true.” He conceived at once the terrible mistake that Miss Armytage + had made. She must have seen him climb down from Lady O’Moy’s balcony, and + she had come to the only possible, horrible conclusion. “This lady is + mistaken, I am ready to—” + </p> + <p> + “A moment, sir. You are interrupting,” the president rebuked. + </p> + <p> + And then the voice of O’Moy on the note of terrible triumph sounded again + like a trumpet through the long room. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but it is the truth at last. We have it now. Her name! Her name!” he + shouted. “Who was this wanton?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage’s answer was as a bludgeon-stroke to his ferocious + exultation. + </p> + <p> + “Myself. Captain Tremayne was with me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII FOOL’S MATE + </h2> + <p> + Writing years afterwards of this event—in the rather tedious volume + of reminiscences which he has left us—Major Carruthers ventures the + opinion that the court should never have been deceived; that it should + have perceived at once that Miss Armytage was lying. He argues this + opinion upon psychological grounds, contending that the lady’s deportment + in that moment of self-accusation was the very last that in the + circumstances she alleged would have been natural to such a character as + her own. + </p> + <p> + “Had she indeed,” he writes, “been Tremayne’s mistress, as she represented + herself, it was not in her nature to have announced it after the manner in + which she did so. She bore herself before us with all the effrontery of a + harlot; and it was well known to most of us that a more pure, chaste, and + modest lady did not live. There was here a contradiction so flagrant that + it should have rendered her falsehood immediately apparent.” + </p> + <p> + Major Carruthers, of course, is writing in the light of later knowledge, + and even, setting that aside, I am very far from agreeing with his + psychological deduction. Just as a shy man will so overreach himself in + his efforts to dissemble his shyness as to assume an air of positive + arrogance, so might a pure lady who had succumbed as Miss Armytage + pretended, upon finding herself forced to such self-accusation, bear + herself with a boldness which was no more than a mask upon the shame and + anguish of her mind. + </p> + <p> + And this, I think, was the view that was taken by those present. The court + it was—being composed of honest gentlemen—that felt the shame + which she dissembled. There were the eyes that fell away before the + spurious effrontery of her own glance. They were disconcerted one and all + by this turn of events, without precedent in the experience of any, and + none more disconcerted—though not in the same sense—than Sir + Terence. To him this was checkmate—fool’s mate indeed. An unexpected + yet ridiculously simple move had utterly routed him at the very outset of + the deadly game that he was playing. He had sat there determined to have + either Tremayne’s life or the truth, publicly avowed, of Tremayne’s + dastardly betrayal. He could not have told you which he preferred. But one + or the other he was fiercely determined to have, and now the springs of + the snare in which he had so cunningly taken Tremayne had been forced + apart by utterly unexpected hands. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a lie!” he bellowed angrily. But he bellowed, it seemed, upon deaf + ears. The court just sat and stared, utterly and hopelessly at a loss how + to proceed. And then the dry voice of Wellington followed Sir Terence, + cutting sharply upon the dismayed silence. + </p> + <p> + “How can you know that?” he asked the adjutant. “The matter is one upon + which few would be qualified to contradict Miss Armytage. You will + observe, Sir Harry, that even Captain Tremayne has not thought it worth + his while to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Those words pulled the captain from the spell of sheer horrified amazement + in which he had stood, stricken dumb, ever since Miss Armytage had spoken. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—am so overwhelmed by the amazing falsehood with which + Miss Armytage has attempted to save me from the predicament in which I + stand. For it is that, gentlemen. On my oath as a soldier and a gentleman, + there is not a word of truth in what Miss Armytage has said.” + </p> + <p> + “But if there were,” said Lord Wellington, who seemed the only person + present to retain a cool command of his wits, “your honour as a soldier + and a gentleman—and this lady’s honour—must still demand of + you the perjury.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord, I protest—” + </p> + <p> + “You are interrupting me, I think,” Lord Wellington rebuked him coldly, + and under the habit of obedience and the magnetic eye of his lordship the + captain lapsed into anguished silence. + </p> + <p> + “I am of opinion, gentlemen,” his lordship addressed the court, “that this + affair has gone quite far enough. Miss Armytage’s testimony has saved a + deal of trouble. It has shed light upon much that was obscure, and it has + provided Captain Tremayne with an unanswerable alibi. In my view—and + without wishing unduly to influence the court in its decision—it but + remains to pronounce Captain Tremayne’s acquittal, thereby enabling him to + fulfil towards this lady a duty which the circumstances would seem to have + rendered somewhat urgent.” + </p> + <p> + They were words that lifted an intolerable burden from Sir Harry’s + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + In immense relief, eager now to make an end, he looked to right and left. + Everywhere he met nodding heads and murmurs of “Yes, Yes.” Everywhere with + one exception. Sir Terence, white to the lips, gave no sign of assent, and + yet dared give none of dissent. The eye of Lord Wellington was upon him, + compelling him by its eagle glance. + </p> + <p> + “We are clearly agreed,” the president began, but Captain Tremayne + interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “But you are wrongly agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall listen. It is infamous that I should owe my acquittal to the + sacrifice of this lady’s good name.” + </p> + <p> + “Damme! That is a matter that any parson can put right,” said his + lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship is mistaken,” Captain Tremayne insisted, greatly daring. + “The honour of this lady is more dear to me than my life.” + </p> + <p> + “So we perceive,” was the dry rejoinder. “These outbursts do you a certain + credit, Captain Tremayne. But they waste the time of the court.” + </p> + <p> + And then the president made his announcement + </p> + <p> + “Captain Tremayne, you are acquitted of the charge of killing Count + Samoval, and you are at liberty to depart and to resume your usual duties. + The court congratulates you and congratulates itself upon having reached + this conclusion in the case of an officer so estimable as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but, gentlemen, hear me yet a moment. You, my lord—” + </p> + <p> + “The court has pronounced. The matter is at an end,” said Wellington, with + a shrug, and immediately upon the words he rose, and the court rose with + him. Immediately, with rattle of sabres and sabretaches, the officers who + had composed the board fell into groups and broke into conversation out of + a spirit of consideration for Tremayne, and definitely to mark the + conclusion of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne, white and trembling, turned in time to see Miss Armytage leaving + the hall and assisting Colonel Grant to support Lady O’Moy, who was in a + half-swooning condition. + </p> + <p> + He stood irresolute, prey to a torturing agony of mind, cursing himself + now for his silence, for not having spoken the truth and taken the + consequences together with Dick Butler. What was Dick Butler to him, what + was his own life to him—if they should demand it for the grave + breach of duty he had committed by his readiness to assist a proscribed + offender to escape—compared with the honour of Sylvia Armytage? And + she, why had she done this for him? Could it be possible that she cared, + that she was concerned so much for his life as to immolate her honour to + deliver him from peril? The event would seem to prove it. Yet the + overmastering joy that at any other time, and in any other circumstances, + such a revelation must have procured him, was stifled now by his agonised + concern for the injustice to which she had submitted herself. + </p> + <p> + And then, as he stood there, a suffering, bewildered man, came Carruthers + to grasp his hand and in terms of warm friendship to express satisfaction + at his acquittal. + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than have such a price as that paid—” he said bitterly, and + with a shrug left his sentence unfinished. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy came stalking past him, pale-faced, with eyes that looked neither to + right nor left. + </p> + <p> + “O’Moy!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence checked, and stood stiffly as if to attention, his handsome + blue eyes blazing into the captain’s own. Thus a moment. Then: + </p> + <p> + “We will talk of this again, you and I,” he said grimly, and passed on and + out with clanking step, leaving Tremayne to reflect that the appearances + certainly justified Sir Terence’s resentment. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Carruthers! What must he think of me?” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “If you ask me, I think that he has suspected this from the very + beginning. Only that could account for the hostility of his attitude + towards you, for the persistence with which he has sought either to + convict or wring the truth from you.” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne looked askance at the major. In such a tangle as this it was + impossible to keep the attention fixed upon any single thread. + </p> + <p> + “His mind must be disabused at once,” he answered. “I must go to him.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy had already vanished. + </p> + <p> + There were one or two others would have checked the adjutant’s departure, + but he had heeded none. In the quadrangle he nodded curtly to Colonel + Grant, who would have detained him. But he passed on and went to shut + himself up in his study with his mental anguish that was compounded of so + many and so diverse emotions. He needed above all things to be alone and + to think, if thought were possible to a mind so distraught as his own. + There were now so many things to be faced, considered, and dealt with. + First and foremost—and this was perhaps the product of inevitable + reaction—was the consideration of his own duplicity, his villainous + betrayal of trust undertaken deliberately, but with an aim very different + from that which would appear. He perceived how men must assume now, when + the truth of Samoval’s death became known as become known it must—that + he had deliberately fastened upon another his own crime. The fine edifice + of vengeance he had been so skilfully erecting had toppled about his ears + in obscene ruin, and he was a man not only broken, but dishonoured. Let + him proclaim the truth now and none would believe it. Sylvia Armytage’s + mad and inexplicable self-accusation was a final bar to that. Men of + honour would scorn him, his friends would turn from him in disgust, and + Wellington, that great soldier whom he worshipped, and whose esteem he + valued above all possessions, would be the first to cast him out. He would + appear as a vulgar murderer who, having failed by falsehood to fasten the + guilt upon an innocent man, sought now by falsehood still more damnable, + at the cost of his wife’s honour, to offer some mitigation of his + unspeakable offence. + </p> + <p> + Conceive this terrible position in which his justifiable jealousy—his + naturally vindictive rage—had so irretrievably ensnared him. He had + been so intent upon the administration of poetic justice, so intent upon + condignly punishing the false friend who had dishonoured him, upon finding + a balm for his lacerated soul in the spectacle of Tremayne’s own ignominy, + that he had never paused to see whither all this might lead him. + </p> + <p> + He had been a fool to have adopted these subtle, tortuous ways; a fool not + to have obeyed the earlier and honest impulse which had led him to take + that case of pistols from the drawer. And he was served as a fool deserves + to be served. His folly had recoiled upon him to destroy him. Fool’s mate + had checked his perfidious vengeance at a blow. + </p> + <p> + Why had Sylvia Armytage discarded her honour to make of it a cloak for the + protection of Tremayne? Did she love Tremayne and take that desperate way + to save a life she accounted lost, or was it that she knew the truth, and + out of affection for Una had chosen to immolate herself? + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence was no psychologist. But he found it difficult to believe in + so much of self-sacrifice from a woman for a woman’s sake, however dear. + Therefore he held to the first alternative. To confirm it came the memory + of Sylvia’s words to him on the night of Tremayne’s arrest. And it was to + such a man that she gave the priceless treasure of her love; for such a + man, and in such a sordid cause, that she sacrificed the inestimable jewel + of her honour? He laughed through clenched teeth at a situation so + bitterly ironical. Presently he would talk to her. She should realise what + she had done, and he would wish her joy of it. First, however, there was + something else to do. He flung himself wearily into the chair at his + writing-table, took up a pen and began to write. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE TRUTH + </h2> + <p> + To Captain Tremayne, fretted with impatience in the diningroom, came, at + the end of a long hour of waiting, Sylvia Armytage. She entered + unannounced, at a moment when for the third time he was on the point of + ringing for Mullins, and for a moment they stood considering each other + mutually ill at ease. Then Miss Armytage closed the door and came forward, + moving with that grace peculiar to her, and carrying her head erect, + facing Captain Tremayne now with some lingering signs of the defiance she + had shown the members of the court-martial. + </p> + <p> + “Mullins tells me that you wish to see me,” she said the merest + conventionality to break the disconcerting, uneasy silence. + </p> + <p> + “After what has happened that should not surprise you,” said Tremayne. His + agitation was clear to behold, his usual imperturbability all departed. + “Why,” he burst out suddenly, “why did you do it?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips, as if + she found the question amusing. But before she could frame any answer he + was speaking again, quickly and nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Could you suppose that I should wish to purchase my life at such a price? + Could you suppose that your honour was not more precious to me than my + life? It was infamous that you should have sacrificed yourself in this + manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Infamous of whom?” she asked him coolly. + </p> + <p> + The question gave him pause. “I don’t know!” he cried desperately. + “Infamous of the circumstances, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged. “The circumstances were there, and they had to be met. I + could think of no other way of meeting them.” + </p> + <p> + Hastily he answered her out of his anger for her sake: “It should not have + been your affair to meet them at all.” + </p> + <p> + He saw the scarlet flush sweep over her face and leave it deathly white, + and instantly he perceived how horribly he had blundered. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry to have been interfering,” she answered stiffly, “but, after + all, it is not a matter that need trouble you.” And on the words she + turned to depart again. “Good-day, Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, wait!” He flung himself between her and the door. “We must understand + each other, Miss Armytage.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we do, Captain Tremayne,” she answered, fire dancing in her eyes. + And she added: “You are detaining me.” + </p> + <p> + “Intentionally.” He was calm again; and he was masterful for the first + time in all his dealings with her. “We are very far from any + understanding. Indeed, we are overhead in a misunderstanding already. You + misconstrue my words. I am very angry with you. I do not think that in all + my life I have ever been so angry with anybody. But you are not to mistake + the source of my anger. I am angry with you for the great wrong you have + done yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “That should not be your affair,” she answered him, thus flinging back the + offending phrase. + </p> + <p> + “But it is. I make it mine,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Then I do not give you the right. Please let me pass.” She looked him + steadily in the face, and her voice was calm to coldness. Only the heave + of her bosom betrayed the agitation under which she was labouring. + </p> + <p> + “Whether you give me the right or not, I intend to take it,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You are very rude,” she reproved him. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Even at the risk of being rude, then. I must make myself + clear to you. I would suffer anything sooner than leave you under any + misapprehension of the grounds upon which I should have preferred to face + a firing party rather than have been rescued at the sacrifice of your good + name.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” she said, with faint but cutting irony, “you do not intend to + offer me the reparation of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + It took his breath away for a moment. It was a solution that in his + confused and irate state of mind he had never even paused to consider. Yet + now that it was put to him in this scornfully reproachful manner he + perceived not only that it was the only possible course, but also that on + that very account it might be considered by her impossible. + </p> + <p> + Her testiness was suddenly plain to him. She feared that he was come to + her with an offer of marriage out of a sense of duty, as an amende, to + correct the false position into which, for his sake, she had placed + herself. And he himself by his blundering phrase had given colour to that + hideous fear of hers. + </p> + <p> + He considered a moment whilst he stood there meeting her defiant glance. + Never had she been more desirable in his eyes; and hopeless as his love + for her had always seemed, never had it been in such danger of + hopelessness as at this present moment, unless he proceeded here with the + utmost care. And so Ned Tremayne became subtle for the first time in his + honest, straightforward, soldierly life. “No,” he answered boldly, “I do + not intend it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you spare me that,” she answered him, yet her pallor + seemed to deepen under his glance. + </p> + <p> + “And that,” he continued, “is the source of all my anger, against you, + against myself, and against circumstances. If I had deemed myself remotely + worthy of you,” he continued, “I should have asked you weeks ago to be my + wife. Oh, wait, and hear me out. I have more than once been upon the point + of doing so—the last time was that night on the balcony at Count + Redondo’s. I would have spoken then; I would have taken my courage in my + hands, confessed my unworthiness and my love. But I was restrained + because, although I might confess, there was nothing I could ask. I am a + poor man, Sylvia, you are the daughter of a wealthy one; men speak of you + as an heiress. To ask you to marry me—” He broke off. “You realise + that I could not; that I should have been deemed a fortune-hunter, not + only by the world, which matters nothing, but perhaps by yourself, who + matter everything. I—I—” he faltered, fumbling for words to + express thoughts of an overwhelming intricacy. “It was not perhaps that so + much as the thought that, if my suit should come to prosper, men would say + you had thrown yourself away on a fortune-hunter. To myself I should have + accounted the reproach well earned, but it seemed to me that it must + contain something slighting to you, and to shield you from all slights + must be the first concern of my deep worship for you. That,” he ended + fiercely, “is why I am so angry, so desperate at the slight you have put + upon yourself for my sake—for me, who would have sacrificed life and + honour and everything I hold of any account, to keep you up there, + enthroned not only in my own eyes, but in the eyes of every man.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and looked at her and she at him. She was still very white, and + one of her long, slender hands was pressed to her bosom as if to contain + and repress tumult. But her eyes were smiling, and yet it was a smile he + could not read; it was compassionate, wistful, and yet tinged, it seemed + to him, with mockery. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he said, “it would be expected of me in the circumstances to + seek words in which to thank you for what you have done. But I have no + such words. I am not grateful. How could I be grateful? You have destroyed + the thing that I most valued in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I destroyed?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Your own good name; the respect that was your due from all men.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet if I retain your own?” + </p> + <p> + “What is that worth?” he asked almost resentfully. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps more than all the rest.” She took a step forward and set her hand + upon his arm. There was no mistaking now her smile. It was all tenderness, + and her eyes were shining. “Ned, there is only one thing to be done.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her who was only a little less tall than himself, and + the colour faded from his own face now. + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t understood me after all,” he said. “I was afraid you would + not. I have no clear gift of words, and if I had, I am trying to say + something that would overtax any gift.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, Ned, I understand you perfectly. I don’t think I have + ever understood you until now. Certainly never until now could I be sure + of what I hoped.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what you hoped?” His voice sank as if in awe. “What?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She looked away, and her persisting, yet ever-changing smile grew slightly + arch. + </p> + <p> + “You do not then intend to ask me to marry you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “How could I?” It was an explosion almost of anger. “You yourself + suggested that it would be an insult; and so it would. It is to take + advantage of the position into which your foolish generosity has betrayed + you. Oh!” he clenched his fists and shook them a moment at his sides. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said. “In that case I must ask you to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” He was thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + “What alternative do you leave me? You say that I have destroyed my good + name. You must provide me with a new one. At all costs I must become an + honest woman. Isn’t that the phrase?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” he cried, and pain quivered in his voice. “Don’t jest upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, and now she held out both hands to him, “why trouble + yourself with things of no account, when the only thing that matters to us + is within our grasp? We love each other, and—” + </p> + <p> + Her glance fell away, her lip trembled, and her smile at last took flight. + He caught her hands, holding them in a grip that hurt her; he bent his + head, and his eyes sought her own, but sought in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Have you considered—” he was beginning, when she interrupted him. + Her face flushed upward, surrendering to that questing glance of his, and + its expression was now between tears and laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You will be for ever considering, Ned. You consider too much, where the + issues are plain and simple. For the last time—will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + The subtlety he had employed had been greater than he knew, and it had + achieved something beyond his utmost hopes. + </p> + <p> + He murmured incoherently and took her to his arms. I really do not see + that he could have done anything else. It was a plain and simple issue, + and she herself had protested that the issue was plain and simple. + </p> + <p> + And then the door opened abruptly and Sir Terence came in. Nor did he + discreetly withdraw as a man of feeling should have done before the + intimate and touching spectacle that met his eyes. On the contrary, he + remained like the infernal marplot that he intended to be. + </p> + <p> + “Very proper,” he sneered. “Very fit and proper that he should put right + in the eyes of the world the reputation you have damaged for his sake, + Sylvia. I suppose you’re to be married.” + </p> + <p> + They moved apart, and each stared at O’Moy--Sylvia in cold anger, Tremayne + in chagrin. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Sylvia,” the captain cried, at this voicing of the world’s + opinion he feared so much on her behalf. + </p> + <p> + “Does she?” said Sir Terence, misunderstanding. “I wonder? Unless you’ve + made all plain.” + </p> + <p> + The captain frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Made what plain?” he asked. “There is something here I don’t understand, + O’Moy. Your attitude towards me ever since you ordered me under arrest has + been entirely extraordinary. It has troubled me more than anything else in + all this deplorable affair.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” snorted O’Moy, as with his hands behind his back he + strode forward into the room. He was pale, and there was a set, malignant + sneer upon his lip, a malignant look in the blue eyes that were habitually + so clear and honest. + </p> + <p> + “There have been moments,” said Tremayne, “when I have almost felt you to + be vindictive.” + </p> + <p> + “D’ye wonder?” growled O’Moy. “Has no suspicion crossed your mind that I + may know the whole truth?” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was taken aback. “That startles you, eh?” cried O’Moy, and + pointed a mocking finger at the captain’s face, whose whole expression had + changed to one of apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried Sylvia. Instinctively she felt that under this + troubled surface some evil thing was stirring, that the issues perhaps + were not quite as simple as she had deemed them. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. O’Moy, with his back to the window now, his hands still + clasped behind him, looked mockingly at Tremayne and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you answer her?” he said at last. “You were confidential enough + when I came in. Can it be that you are keeping something back, that you + have secrets from the lady who has no doubt promised by now to become your + wife as the shortest way to mending her recent folly?” + </p> + <p> + Tremayne was bewildered. His answer, apparently an irrelevance, was the + mere enunciation of the thoughts O’Moy’s announcement had provoked. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that you have known throughout that I did not kill + Samoval?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course. How could I have supposed you killed him when I killed him + myself?” + </p> + <p> + “You? You killed him!” cried Tremayne, more and more intrigued. And— + </p> + <p> + “You killed Count Samoval?” exclaimed Miss Armytage. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I did,” was the answer, cynically delivered, accompanied by a + short, sharp laugh. “When I have settled other accounts, and put all my + affairs in order, I shall save the provost-marshal the trouble of further + seeking the slayer. And you didn’t know then, Sylvia, when you lied so + glibly to the court, that your future husband was innocent of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I was always sure of it,” she answered, and looked at Tremayne for + explanation. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy laughed again. “But he had not told you so. He preferred that you + should think him guilty of bloodshed, of murder even, rather than tell you + the real truth. Oh, I can understand. He is the very soul of honour, as + you remarked yourself, I think, the other night. He knows how much to tell + and how much to withhold. He is master of the art of discreet suppression. + He will carry it to any lengths. You had an instance of that before the + court this morning. You may come to regret, my dear, that you did not + allow him to have his own obstinate way; that you should have dragged your + own spotless purity in the mud to provide him with an alibi. But he had an + alibi all the time, my child; an unanswerable alibi which he preferred to + withhold. I wonder would you have been so ready to make a shield of your + honour could you have known what you were really shielding?” + </p> + <p> + “Ned!” she cried. “Why don’t you speak? Is he to go on in this fashion? Of + what is he accusing you? If you were not with Samoval that night, where + were you?” + </p> + <p> + “In a lady’s room, as you correctly informed the court,” came O’Moy’s + bitter mockery. “Your only mistake was in the identity of the lady. You + imagined that the lady was yourself. A delusion purely. But you and I may + comfort each other, for we are fellow-sufferers at the hands of this man + of honour. My wife was the lady who entertained this gallant in her room + that night.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, O’Moy!” It was a strangled cry from Tremayne. At last he saw + light; he understood, and, understanding, there entered his heart a great + compassion for O’Moy, a conception that he must have suffered all the + agonies of the damned in these last few days. “My God, you don’t believe + that I—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “The imputation? Utterly.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I tell you that myself with these eyes I saw you at the window of + her room with her; if I tell you that I saw the rope ladder dangling from + her balcony; if I tell you that crouching there after I had killed Samoval—killed + him, mark me, for saying that you and my wife betrayed me; killed him for + telling me the filthy truth—if I tell you that I heard her + attempting to restrain you from going down to see what had happened—if + I tell you all this, will you still deny it, will you still lie?” + </p> + <p> + “I will still say that all that you imply is false as hell and your own + senseless jealousy can make it. + </p> + <p> + “All that I imply? But what I state—the facts themselves, are they + true?” + </p> + <p> + “They are true. But—” + </p> + <p> + “True!” cried Miss Armytage in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, wait,” O’Moy bade her with his heavy sneer. “You interrupt him. He is + about to construe those facts so that they shall wear an innocent + appearance. He is about to prove himself worthy of the great sacrifice you + made to save his life. Well?” And he looked expectantly at Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + Miss Armytage looked at him too, with eyes from which the dread passed + almost at once. The captain was smiling, wistfully, tolerantly, + confidently, almost scornfully. Had he been guilty of the thing imputed he + could not have stood so in her presence. + </p> + <p> + “O’Moy,” he said slowly, “I should tell you that you have played the knave + in this were it not clear to me that you have played the fool.” He spoke + entirely without passion. He saw his way quite clearly. Things had reached + a pass in which for the sake of all concerned, and perhaps for the sake of + Miss Armytage more than any one, the whole truth must be spoken without + regard to its consequences to Richard Butler. + </p> + <p> + “You dare to take that tone?” began O’Moy in a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + “Yourself shall be the first to justify it presently. I should be angry + with you, O’Moy, for what you have done. But I find my anger vanishing in + regret. I should scorn you for the lie you have acted, for your scant + regard to your oath in the court-martial, for your attempt to combat an + imagined villainy by a real villainy. But I realise what you have + suffered, and in that suffering lies the punishment you fully deserve for + not having taken the straight course, for not having taxed me there and + then with the thing that you suspected.” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman is about to lecture me upon morals, Sylvia.” But Tremayne + let pass the interruption. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true that I was in Una’s room while you were killing Samoval. + But I was not alone with her, as you have so rashly assumed. Her brother + Richard was there, and it was on his behalf that I was present. She had + been hiding him for a fortnight. She begged me, as Dick’s friend and her + own, to save him; and I undertook to do so. I climbed to her room to + assist him to descend by the rope ladder you saw, because he was wounded + and could not climb without assistance. At the gates I had the curricle + waiting in which I had driven up. In this I was to have taken him on board + a ship that was leaving that night for England, having made arrangements + with her captain. You should have seen, had you reflected, that—as I + told the court—had I been coming to a clandestine meeting, I should + hardly have driven up in so open a fashion, and left the curricle to wait + for me at the gates. + </p> + <p> + “The death of Samoval and my own arrest thwarted our plans and prevented + Dick’s escape. That is the truth. Now that you have it I hope you like it, + and I hope that you thoroughly relish your own behaviour in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + There was a fluttering sigh of relief from Miss Armytage. Then silence + followed, in which O’Moy stared at Tremayne, emotion after emotion + sweeping across his mobile face. + </p> + <p> + “Dick Butler?” he said at last, and cried out: “I don’t believe a word of + it! Ye’re lying, Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + “You have cause enough to hope so.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was faintly scornful. + </p> + <p> + “If it were true, Una would not have kept it from me. It was to me she + would have come.” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble with you, O’Moy, is that jealousy seems to have robbed you of + the power of coherent thought, or else you would remember that you were + the last man to whom Una could confide Dick’s presence here. I warned her + against doing so. I told her of the promise you had been compelled to give + the secretary, Forjas, and I was even at pains to justify you to her when + she was indignant with you for that. It would perhaps be better,” he + concluded, “if you were to send for Una.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s what I intend,” said Sir Terence in a voice that made a threat of + the statement. He strode stiffly across the room and pulled open the door. + There was no need to go farther. Lady O’Moy, white and tearful, was + discovered on the threshold. Sir Terence stood aside, holding the door for + her, his face very grim. + </p> + <p> + She came in slowly, looking from one to another with her troubled glance, + and finally accepting the chair that Captain Tremayne made haste to offer + her. She had so much to say to each person present that it was impossible + to know where to begin. It remained for Sir Terence to give her the lead + she needed, and this he did so soon as he had closed the door again. + Planted before it like a sentry, he looked at her between anger and + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “How much did you overhear?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “All that you said about Dick,” she answered without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Then you stood listening?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I wanted to know what you were saying.” + </p> + <p> + “There are other ways of ascertaining that without stooping to keyholes,” + said her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t stoop,” she said, taking him literally. “I could hear what was + said without that—especially what you said, Terence. You will raise + your voice so on the slightest provocation.” + </p> + <p> + “And the provocation in this instance was, of course, of the slightest. + Since you have heard Captain Tremayne’s story of course you’ll have no + difficulty in confirming it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you still can doubt, O’Moy,” said Tremayne, “it must be because you + wish to doubt; because you are afraid to face the truth now that it has + been placed before you. I think, Una, it will spare a deal of trouble, and + save your husband from a great many expressions that he may afterwards + regret, if you go and fetch Dick. God knows, Terence has enough to + overwhelm him already.” + </p> + <p> + At the suggestion of producing Dick, O’Moy’s anger, which had begun to + simmer again, was stilled. He looked at his wife almost in alarm, and she + met his look with one of utter blankness. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t,” she said plaintively. “Dick’s gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone?” cried Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “Gone?” said O’Moy, and then he began to laugh. “Are you quite sure that + he was ever here?” + </p> + <p> + “But—” She was a little bewildered, and a frown puckered her perfect + brow. “Hasn’t Ned told you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ned has told me. Ned has told!” His face was terrible. + </p> + <p> + “And don’t you believe him? Don’t you believe me?” She was more plaintive + than ever. It was almost as if she called heaven to witness what manner of + husband she was forced to endure. “Then you had better call Mullins and + ask him. He saw Dick leave.” + </p> + <p> + “And no doubt,” said Miss Armytage mercilessly, “Sir Terence will believe + his butler where he can believe neither his wife nor his friend.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in a sort of amazement. “Do you believe them, Sylvia?” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I am not a fool,” said she impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Meaning—” he began, but broke off. “How long do you say it is since + Dick left the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes at most,” replied her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + He turned and pulled the door open again. “Mullins?” he called. “Mullins!” + </p> + <p> + “What a man to live with!” sighed her ladyship, appealing to Miss + Armytage. “What a man!” And she applied a vinaigrette delicately to her + nostrils. + </p> + <p> + Tremayne smiled, and sauntered to the window. And then at last came + Mullins. + </p> + <p> + “Has any one left the house within the last ten minutes, Mullins?” asked + Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + Mullins looked ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sir, you’ll not be after—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer my question, man?” roared Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, then, there’s nobody left the house at all but Mr. Butler, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How long had he been here?” asked O’Moy, after a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis what I can’t tell ye, sir. I never set eyes on him until I saw him + coming downstairs from her ladyship’s room as it might be.” + </p> + <p> + “You can go, Mullins.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “You can go.” And Sir Terence slammed the door upon the amazed servant, + who realised that some unhappy mystery was perturbing the adjutant’s + household. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence stood facing them again. He was a changed man. The fire had + all gone out of him. His head was bowed and his face looked haggard and + suddenly old. His lip curled into a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Pantaloon in the comedy,” he said, remembering in that moment the bitter + gibe that had cost Samoval his life. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” her ladyship asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I pronounced my own name,” he answered lugubriously. + </p> + <p> + “It didn’t sound like it, Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the name I ought to bear,” he said. “And I killed that liar for it—the + only truth he spoke.” + </p> + <p> + He came forward to the table. The full sense of his position suddenly + overwhelmed him, as Tremayne had said it would. A groan broke from him and + he collapsed into a chair, a stricken, broken man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE RESIGNATION + </h2> + <p> + At once, as he sat there, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands, + he found himself surrounded by those three, against each of whom he had + sinned under the spell of the jealousy that had blinded him and led him by + the nose. + </p> + <p> + His wife put an arm about his neck in mute comfort of a grief of which she + only understood the half—for of the heavier and more desperate part + of his guilt she was still in ignorance. Sylvia spoke to him kindly words + of encouragement where no encouragement could avail. But what moved him + most was the touch of Tremayne’s hand upon his shoulder, and Tremayne’s + voice bidding him brace himself to face the situation and count upon them + to stand by him to the end. + </p> + <p> + He looked up at his friend and secretary in an amazement that overcame his + shame. + </p> + <p> + “You can forgive me, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + Ned looked across at Sylvia Armytage. “You have been the means of bringing + me to such happiness as I should never have reached without these + happenings,” he said. “What resentment can I bear you, O’Moy? Besides, I + understand, and who understands can never do anything but forgive. I + realise how sorely you have been tried. No evidence more conclusive that + you were being wronged could have been placed before you.” + </p> + <p> + “But the court-martial,” said O’Moy in horror. He covered his face with + his hand. “Oh, my God! I am dishonoured. I—I—” He rose, + shaking off the arm of his wife and the hand of the friend he had wronged + so terribly. He broke away from them and strode to the window, his face + set and white. “I think I was mad,” he said. “I know I was mad. But to + have done what I did—” He shuddered in very horror of himself now + that he was bereft of the support of that evil jealousy that had fortified + him against conscience itself and the very voice of honour. Lady O’Moy + turned to them, pleading for explanation. + </p> + <p> + “What does he mean? What has he done?” + </p> + <p> + Himself he answered her: “I killed Samoval. It was I who fought that duel. + And then believing what I did, I fastened the guilt upon Ned, and went the + lengths of perjury in my blind effort to avenge myself. That is what I + have done. Tell me, one of you, of your charity, what is there left for me + to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” It was an outcry of horror and indignation from Una, instantly + repressed by the tightening grip of Sylvia’s hand upon her arm. Miss + Armytage saw and understood, and sorrowed for Sir Terence. She must + restrain his wife from adding to his present anguish. Yet, “How could you, + Terence! Oh, how could you!” cried her ladyship, and so gave way to tears, + easier than words to express such natures. + </p> + <p> + “Because I loved you, I suppose,” he answered on a note of bitter + self-mockery. “That was the justification I should have given had I been + asked; that was the justification I accounted sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “But then,” she cried, a new horror breaking on her mind—“if this is + discovered—Terence, what will become of you?” + </p> + <p> + He turned and came slowly back until he stood beside her. Facing now the + inevitable, he recovered some of his calm. + </p> + <p> + “It must be discovered,” he said quietly. “For the sake of everybody + concerned it must—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” She sprang up and clutched his arm in terror. “They may fail + to discover the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “They must not, my dear,” he answered her; stroking the fair head that lay + against his breast. “They must not fail. I must see to that.” + </p> + <p> + “You? You?” Her eyes dilated as she looked at him. She caught her breath + on a gasping sob. “Ah no, Terence,” she cried wildly. “You must not; you + must not. You must say nothing—for my sake, Terence, if you love me, + oh, for my sake, Terence!” + </p> + <p> + “For honour’s sake, I must,” he answered her. “And for the sake of Sylvia + and of Tremayne, whom I have wronged, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Not for my sake, Terence,” Sylvia interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, and then at Tremayne. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Ned—what do you say?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ned could not wish—” began her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Please let him speak for himself, my dear,” her husband interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “What can I say?” cried Tremayne, with a gesture that was almost of anger. + “How can I advise? I scarcely know. You realise what you must face if you + confess?” + </p> + <p> + “Fully, and the only part of it I shrink from is the shame and scorn I + have deserved. Yet it is inevitable. You agree, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure. None who understands as I understand can feel anything but + regret. Oh, I don’t know. The evidence of what you suspected was + overwhelming, and it betrayed you into this mistake. The punishment you + would have to face is surely too heavy, and you have suffered far more + already than you can ever be called upon to suffer again, no matter what + is done to you. Oh, I don’t know! The problem is too deep for me. There is + Una to be considered, too. You owe a duty to her, and if you keep silent + it may be best for all. You can depend upon us to stand by you in this.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, indeed,” said Sylvia. + </p> + <p> + He looked at them and smiled very tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Never was a man blessed with nobler friends who deserved so little of + them,” he said slowly. “You heap coals of fire upon my head. You shame me + through and through. But have you considered, Ned, that all may not depend + upon my silence? What if the provost-marshal, investigating now, were to + come upon the real facts?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible that sufficient should be discovered to convict you.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you be sure of that? And if it were possible, if it came to pass, + what then would be my position? You see, Ned! I must accept the punishment + I have incurred lest a worse overtake me—to put it at its lowest. I + must voluntarily go forward and denounce myself before another denounces + me. It is the only way to save some rag of honour.” + </p> + <p> + There was a tap at the door, and Mullins came to announce that Lord + Wellington was asking to see Sir Terence. + </p> + <p> + “He is waiting in the study, Sir Terence.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell his lordship I will be with him at once.” + </p> + <p> + Mullins departed, and Sir Terence prepared to follow. Gently he disengaged + himself from the arms her ladyship now flung about him. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, my dear,” he said. “Wellington may show me more mercy than I + deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to tell him?” she questioned brokenly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, sweetheart. What else can I do? And since you and Tremayne + find it in your hearts to forgive me, nothing else matters very much.” He + kissed her tenderly and put her from him. He looked at Sylvia standing + beside her and at Tremayne beyond the table. “Comfort her,” he implored + them, and, turning, went out quickly. + </p> + <p> + Awaiting him in the study he found not only Lord Wellington, but Colonel + Grant, and by the cold gravity of both their faces he had an inspiration + that in some mysterious way the whole hideous truth was already known to + them. + </p> + <p> + The slight figure of his lordship in its grey frock was stiff and erect, + his booted leg firmly planted, his hands behind him clutching his + riding-crop and cocked hat. His face was set and his voice as he greeted + O’Moy sharp and staccato. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, O’Moy, there are one or two matters to be discussed before I leave + Lisbon.” + </p> + <p> + “I had written to you, sir,” replied O’Moy. “Perhaps you will first read + my letter.” And he went to fetch it from the writing-table, where he had + left it when completed an hour earlier. + </p> + <p> + His lordship took the letter in silence, and after one piercing glance at + O’Moy broke the seal. In the background, near the window, the tall figure + of Colquhoun Grant stood stiffly erect, his hawk face inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Your resignation, O’Moy. But you give no reasons.” Again his keen + glance stabbed into the adjutant’s face. “Why this?” he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Sir Terence, “I prefer to tender it before it is asked of + me.” He was very white, yet by an effort those deep blue eyes of his met + the terrible gaze of his chief without flinching. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’ll explain,” said his lordship coldly. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” said O’Moy, “it was myself killed Samoval, and since + your lordship was a witness of what followed, you will realise that that + was the least part of my offence.” + </p> + <p> + The great soldier jerked his head sharply backward, tilting forward his + chin. “So!” he said. “Ha! I beg your pardon, Grant, for having disbelieved + you.” Then, turning to O’Moy again: “Well,” he demanded, his voice hard, + “have you nothing to add?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing that can matter,” said O’Moy, with a shrug, and they stood facing + each other in silence for a long moment. + </p> + <p> + At last when Wellington spoke his voice had assumed a gentler note. + </p> + <p> + “O’Moy,” he said, “I have known you these fifteen years, and we have been + friends. Once you carried your friendship, appreciation, and understanding + of me so far as nearly to ruin yourself on my behalf. You’ll not have + forgotten the affair of Sir Harry Burrard. In all these years I have known + you for a man of shining honour, an honest, upright gentleman, whom I + would have trusted when I should have distrusted every other living man. + Yet you stand there and confess to me the basest, the most dishonest + villainy that I have ever known a British officer to commit, and you tell + me that you have no explanation to offer for your conduct. Either I have + never known you, O’Moy, or I do not know you now. Which is it?” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy raised his arms, only to let them fall heavily to his sides again. + </p> + <p> + “What explanation can there be?” he asked. “How can a man who has been—as + I hope I have—a man of honour in the past explain such an act of + madness? It arose out of your order against duelling,” he went on. + “Samoval offended me mortally. He said such things to me of my wife’s + honour that no man could suffer, and I least of any man. My temper + betrayed me. I consented to a clandestine meeting without seconds. It took + place here, and I killed him. And then I had, as I imagined—quite + wrongly, as I know now—overwhelming evidence that what he had told + me was true, and I went mad.” Briefly he told the story of Tremayne’s + descent from Lady O’Moy’s balcony and the rest. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know,” he resumed, “what it was I hoped to accomplish in the + end. I do not know—for I never stopped to consider—whether I + should have allowed Captain Tremayne to have been shot if it had come to + that. All that I was concerned to do was to submit him to the ordeal which + I conceived he must undergo when he saw himself confronted with the choice + of keeping silence and submitting to his fate, or saving himself by an + avowal that could scarcely be less bitter than death itself.” + </p> + <p> + “You fool, O’Moy-you damned, infernal fool!” his lordship swore at him. + “Grant overheard more than you imagined that night outside the gates. His + conclusions ran the truth very close indeed. But I could not believe him, + could not believe this of you.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” said O’Moy gloomily. “I can’t believe it of myself.” + </p> + <p> + “When Miss Armytage intervened to afford Tremayne an alibi, I believed + her, in view of what Grant had told me; I concluded that hers was the + window from which Tremayne had climbed down. Because of what I knew I was + there to see that the case did not go to extremes against Tremayne. If + necessary Grant must have given full evidence of all he knew, and there + and then left you to your fate. Miss Armytage saved us from that, and left + me convinced, but still not understanding your own attitude. And now comes + Richard Butler to surrender to me and cast himself upon my mercy with + another tale which completely gives the lie to Miss Armytage’s, but + confirms your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard Butler!” cried O’Moy. “He has surrendered to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Half-an-hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence turned aside with a weary shrug. A little laugh that was more + a sob broke from him. “Poor Una!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “The tangle is a shocking one—lies, lies everywhere, and in the + places where they were least to be expected.” Wellington’s anger flashed + out. “Do you realise what awaits you as a result of all this damned + insanity?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir. That is why I place my resignation in your hands. The + disregard of a general order punishable in any officer is beyond pardon in + your adjutant-general.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is the least of it, you fool.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, don’t I know? I assure you that I realise it all.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are prepared to face it?” Wellington was almost savage in an + anger proceeding from the conflict that went on within him. There was his + duty as commander-in-chief, and there was his friendship for O’Moy and his + memory of the past in which O’Moy’s loyalty had almost been the ruin of + him. + </p> + <p> + “What choice have I?” + </p> + <p> + His lordship turned away, and strode the length of the room, his head + bent, his lips twitching. Suddenly he stopped and faced the silent + intelligence officer. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done, Grant?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a matter for your lordship. But if I might venture—” + </p> + <p> + “Venture and be damned,” snapped Wellington. + </p> + <p> + “The signal service rendered the cause of the allies by the death of + Samoval might perhaps be permitted to weigh against the offence committed + by O’Moy.” + </p> + <p> + “How could it?” snapped his lordship. “You don’t know, O’Moy, that upon + Samoval’s body were found certain documents intended for Massena. Had they + reached him, or had Samoval carried out the full intentions that dictated + his quarrel with you, and no doubt sent him here depending upon his + swordsmanship to kill you, all my plans for the undoing of the French + would have been ruined. Ay, you may stare. That is another matter in which + you have lacked discretion. You may be a fine engineer, O’Moy, but I don’t + think I could have found a less judicious adjutant-general if I had raked + the ranks of the army on purpose to find an idiot. Samoval was a spy—the + cleverest spy that we have ever had to deal with. Only his death revealed + how dangerous he was. For killing him when you did you deserve the thanks + of his Majesty’s Government, as Grant suggests. But before you can receive + those you will have to stand a court-martial for the manner in which you + killed him, and you will probably be shot. I can’t help you. I hope you + don’t expect it of me.” + </p> + <p> + “The thought had not so much as occurred to me. Yet what you tell me, sir, + lifts something of the load from my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it? Well, it lifts no load from mine,” was the angry retort. He + stood considering. Then with an impatient gesture he seemed to dismiss his + thoughts. “I can do nothing,” he said, “nothing without being false to my + duty and becoming as bad as you have been, O’Moy, and without any of the + sentimental justification that existed in your case. I can’t allow the + matter to be dropped, stifled. I have never been guilty of such a thing, + and I refuse to become guilty of it now. I refuse—do you understand? + O’Moy, you have acted; and you must take the consequences, and be damned + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I’ve never asked you to help me, sir,” Sir Terence protested. + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t intend to, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that.” He was in one of those rages which were as terrible + as they were rare with him. “I wouldn’t have you suppose that I make laws + for the sake of rescuing people from the consequences of disobeying them. + Here is this brother-in-law of yours, this fellow Butler, who has made + enough mischief in the country to imperil our relations with our allies. + And I am half pledged to condone his adventure at Tavora. There’s nothing + for it, O’Moy. As your friend, I am infernally angry with you for placing + yourself in this position; as your commanding officer I can only order you + under arrest and convene a court-martial to deal with you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence bowed his head. He was a little surprised by all this heat. “I + never expected anything else,” he said. “And it’s altogether at a loss I + am to understand why your lordship should be vexing yourself in this + manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I’ve a friendship for you, O’Moy. Because I remember that you’ve + been a loyal friend to me. And because I must forget all this and remember + only that my duty is absolutely rigid and inflexible. If I condoned your + offence, if I suppressed inquiry, I should be in duty and honour bound to + offer my own resignation to his Majesty’s Government. And I have to think + of other things besides my personal feelings, when at any moment now the + French may be over the Agueda and into Portugal.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence’s face flushed, and his glance brightened. + </p> + <p> + “From my heart I thank you that you can even think of such things at such + a time and after what I have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to what you have done—I understand that you are a fool, + O’Moy. There’s no more to be said. You are to consider yourself under + arrest. I must do it if you were my own brother, which, thank God, you’re + not. Come, Grant. Good-bye, O’Moy.” And he held out his hand to him. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence hesitated, staring. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the hand of your friend, Arthur Wellesley, I’m offering you, not the + hand of your commanding officer,” said his lordship savagely. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence took it, and wrung it in silence, perhaps more deeply moved + than he had yet been by anything that had happened to him that morning. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door, and Mullins opened it to admit the + adjutant’s orderly, who came stiffly to attention. + </p> + <p> + “Major Carruthers’s compliments, sir,” he said to O’Moy, “and his + Excellency the Secretary of the Council of Regency wishes to see you very + urgently.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. O’Moy shrugged and spread his hands. This message was + for the adjutant-general and he no longer filled the office. + </p> + <p> + “Pray tell Major Carruthers that I—” he was beginning, when Lord + Wellington intervened. + </p> + <p> + “Desire his Excellency to step across here. I will see him myself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. SANCTUARY + </h2> + <p> + “I will withdraw, sir,” said Terence. + </p> + <p> + But Wellington detained him. “Since Dom Miguel asked for you, you had + better remain, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the adjutant-general Dom Miguel desires to see, and I am + adjutant-general no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, the matter may concern you. I have a notion that it may be + concerned with the death of Count Samoval, since I have acquainted the + Council of Regency with the treason practised by the Count. You had better + remain.” + </p> + <p> + Gloomy and downcast, Sir Terence remained as he was bidden. + </p> + <p> + The sleek and supple Secretary of State was ushered in. He came forward + quickly, clicked his heels together and bowed to the three men present. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, your obedient servant,” he announced himself, with a courtliness + almost out of fashion, speaking in his extraordinarily fluent English. His + sallow countenance was extremely grave. He seemed even a little ill at + ease. + </p> + <p> + “I am fortunate to find you here, my lord. The matter upon which I seek + your adjutant-general is of considerable gravity—so much that of + himself he might be unable to resolve it. I feared you might already have + departed for the north.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you suggest that my presence may be of service to you, I am happy + that circumstances should have delayed my departure,” was his lordship’s + courteous answer. “A chair, Dom Miguel.” + </p> + <p> + Dom Miguel Forjas accepted the proffered chair, whilst Wellington seated + himself at Sir Terence’s desk. Sir Terence himself remained standing with + his shoulders to the overmantel, whence he faced them both as well as + Grant, who, according to his self-effacing habit, remained in the + background by the window. + </p> + <p> + “I have sought you,” began Dom Miguel, stroking his square chin, “on a + matter concerned with the late Count Samoval, immediately upon hearing + that the court-martial pronounced the acquittal of Captain Tremayne.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship frowned, and his eagle glance fastened upon the Secretary’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “I trust, sir, you have not come to question the finding of the + court-martial.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, on the contrary—on the contrary!” Dom Miguel was emphatic. “I + represent not only the Council, but the Samoval family as well. Both + realise that it is perhaps fortunate for all concerned that in arresting + Captain Tremayne the military authorities arrested the wrong man, and both + have reason to dread the arrest of the right one.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and the frown deepened between Wellington’s brows. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said slowly, “that I do not quite perceive their concern + in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it not clear?” cried Dom Miguel. + </p> + <p> + “If it were I should perceive it,” said his lordship dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but let me explain, then. A further investigation of the manner in + which Count Samoval met his death can hardly fail to bring to light the + deplorable practices in which he was engaged; for no doubt Colonel Grant, + here, would consider it his duty in the interests of justice to place + before the court the documents found upon the Count’s dead body. If I may + permit myself an observation,” he continued, looking round at Colonel + Grant, “it is that I do not quite understand how this has not already + happened.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause in which Grant looked at Wellington as if for direction. + But his lordship himself assumed the burden of the answer. + </p> + <p> + “It was not considered expedient in the public interest to do so at + present,” he said. “And the circumstances did not place us under the + necessity of divulging the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “There, my lord, if you will allow me to say so, you acted with a delicacy + and wisdom which the circumstances may not again permit. Indeed any + further investigation must almost inevitably bring these matters to light, + and the effect of such revelation would be deplorable.” + </p> + <p> + “Deplorable to whom?” asked his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “To the Count’s family and to the Council of Regency.” + </p> + <p> + “I can sympathise with the Count’s family, but not with the Council.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, my lord, the Council as a body deserves your sympathy in that it + is in danger of being utterly discredited by the treason of one or two of + its members.” + </p> + <p> + Wellington manifested impatience. “The Council has been warned time and + again. I am weary of warning, and even of threatening, the Council with + the consequences of resisting my policy. I think that exposure is not only + what it deserves, but the surest means of providing a healthier government + in the future. I am weary of picking my way through the web of intrigue + with which the Council entangles my movements and my dispositions. Public + sympathy has enabled it to hamper me in this fashion. That sympathy will + be lost to it by the disclosures which you fear.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I must confess that there is much reason in what you say.” He + was smoothly conciliatory. “I understand your exasperation. But may I be + permitted to assure you that it is not the Council as a body that has + withstood you, but certain self-seeking members, one or two friends of + Principal Souza, in whose interests the unfortunate and misguided Count + Samoval was acting. Your lordship will perceive that the moment is not one + in which to stir up public indignation against the Portuguese Government. + Once the passions of the mob are inflamed, who can say to what lengths + they may not go, who can say what disastrous consequences may not follow? + It is desirable to apply the cautery, but not to burn up the whole body.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington considered a moment, fingering an ivory paper-knife. He + was partly convinced. + </p> + <p> + “When I last suggested the cautery, to use your own very apt figure, the + Council did not keep faith with me.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord!” + </p> + <p> + “It did not, sir. It removed Antonio de Souza, but it did not take the + trouble to go further and remove his friends at the same time. They + remained to carry on his subversive treacherous intrigues. What guarantees + have I that the Council will behave better on this occasion?” + </p> + <p> + “You have our solemn assurances, my lord, that all those members suspected + of complicity in this business or of attachment to the Souza faction, + shall be compelled to resign, and you may depend upon the reconstituted + Council loyally to support your measures.” + </p> + <p> + “You give me assurances, sir, and I ask for guarantees.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship is in possession of the documents found upon Count Samoval. + The Council knows this, and this knowledge will compel it to guard against + further intrigues on the part of any of its members which might naturally + exasperate you into publishing those documents. Is not that some + guarantee?” + </p> + <p> + His lordship considered, and nodded slowly. “I admit that it is. Yet I do + not see how this publicity is to be avoided in the course of the further + investigations into the manner in which Count Samoval came by his death.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, that is the pivot of the whole matter. All further investigation + must be suspended.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence trembled, and his eyes turned in eager anxiety upon the + inscrutable, stern face of Lord Wellington. + </p> + <p> + “Must!” cried his lordship sharply. + </p> + <p> + “What else, my lord, in all our interests?” exclaimed the Secretary, and + he rose in his agitation. + </p> + <p> + “And what of British justice, sir?” demanded his lordship in a forbidding + tone. + </p> + <p> + “British justice has reason to consider itself satisfied. British justice + may assume that Count Samoval met his death in the pursuit of his + treachery. He was a spy caught in the act, and there and then destroyed—a + very proper fate. Had he been taken, British justice would have demanded + no less. It has been anticipated. Cannot British justice, for the sake of + British interests as well as Portuguese interests, be content to leave the + matter there?” + </p> + <p> + “An argument of expediency, eh?” said Wellington. “Why not, my lord! Does + not expediency govern politicians?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a politician.” + </p> + <p> + “But a wise soldier, my lord, does not lose sight of the political + consequences of his acts.” And he sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency may be right,” said his lordship. “Let us be quite clear, + then. You suggest, speaking in the name of the Council of Regency, that I + should suppress all further investigations into the manner in which Count + Samoval met his death, so as to save his family the shame and the Council + of Regency the discredit which must overtake one and the other if the + facts are disclosed—as disclosed they would be that Samoval was a + traitor and a spy in the pay of the French. That is what you ask me to do. + In return your Council undertakes that there shall be no further + opposition to my plans for the military defence of Portugal, and that all + my measures however harsh and however heavily they may weigh upon the + landowners, shall be punctually and faithfully carried out. That is your + Excellency’s proposal, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much my proposal, my lord, as my most earnest intercession. We + desire to spare the innocent the consequences of the sins of a man who is + dead, and well dead.” He turned to O’Moy, standing there tense and + anxious. It was not for Dom Miguel to know that it was the adjutant’s fate + that was being decided. “Sir Terence,” he cried, “you have been here for a + year, and all matters connected with the Council have been treated through + you. You cannot fail to see the wisdom of my recommendation.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship’s eyes flashed round upon O’Moy. “Ah yes!” he said. “What is + your feeling in this matter, ‘O’Moy?” he inquired, his tone and manner + void of all expression. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence faltered; then stiffened. “I—The matter is one that only + your lordship can decide. I have no wish to influence your decision.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Ha! And you, Grant? No doubt you agree with Dom Miguel?” + </p> + <p> + “Most emphatically—upon every count, sir,” replied the intelligence + officer without hesitation. “I think Dom Miguel offers an excellent + bargain. And, as he says, we hold a guarantee of its fulfilment.” + </p> + <p> + “The bargain might be improved,” said Wellington slowly. + </p> + <p> + “If your lordship will tell me how, the Council, I am sure, will be ready + to do all that lies in its power to satisfy you.” + </p> + <p> + Wellington shifted his chair round a little, and crossed his legs. He + brought his finger-tips together, and over the top of them his eyes + considered the Secretary of State. + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency has spoken of expediency—political expediency. + Sometimes political expediency can overreach itself and perpetrate the + most grave injustices. Individuals at times are unnecessarily called upon + to suffer in the interests of a cause. Your Excellency will remember a + certain affair at Tavora some two months ago—the invasion of a + convent by a British officer with rather disastrous consequences and the + loss of some lives.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly, my lord. I had the honour of entertaining Sir + Terence upon that subject on the occasion of my last visit here.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said his lordship. “And on the grounds of political expediency + you made a bargain then with Sir Terence, I understand, a bargain which + entailed the perpetration of an injustice.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not aware of it, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me refresh your Excellency’s memory upon the facts. To appease + the Council of Regency, or rather to enable me to have my way with the + Council and remove the Principal Souza, you stipulated for the assurance—so + that you might lay it before your Council—that the offending officer + should be shot when taken.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not help myself in the matter, and—” + </p> + <p> + “A moment, sir. That is not the way of British justice, and Sir Terence + was wrong to have permitted himself to consent; though I profoundly + appreciate the loyalty to me, the earnest desire to assist me, which led + him into an act the cost of which to himself your Excellency can hardly + appreciate. But the wrong lay in that by virtue of this bargain a British + officer was prejudged. He was to be made a scapegoat. He was to be sent to + his death when taken, as a peace-offering to the people, demanded by the + Council of Regency. + </p> + <p> + “Since all this happened I have had the facts of the case placed before + me. I will go so far as to tell you, sir, that the officer in question has + been in my hands for the past hour, that I have closely questioned him, + and that I am satisfied that whilst he has been guilty of conduct which + might compel me to deprive him of his Majesty’s commission and dismiss him + from the army, yet that conduct is not such as to merit death. He has + chiefly sinned in folly and want of judgment. I reprove it in the sternest + terms, and I deplore the consequences it had. But for those consequences + the nuns of Tavora are almost as much to blame as he is himself. His + invasion of their convent was a pure error, committed in the belief that + it was a monastery and as a result of the porter’s foolish conduct. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Sir Terence’s word, given in response to your absolute demands, has + committed us to an unjust course, which I have no intention of following. + I will stipulate, sir, that your Council, in addition to the matters + undertaken, shall relieve us of all obligation in this matter, leaving it + to our discretion to punish Mr. Butler in such manner as we may consider + condign. In return, your Excellency, I will undertake that there shall be + no further investigation into the manner in which Count Samoval came by + his death, and consequently, no disclosures of the shameful trade in which + he was engaged. If your Excellency will give yourself the trouble of + taking the sense of your Council upon this, we may then reach a + settlement.” + </p> + <p> + The grave anxiety of Dom Miguel’s countenance was instantly dispelled. In + his relief he permitted himself a smile. + </p> + <p> + “My lord, there is not the need to take the sense of the Council. The + Council has given me carte blanche to obtain your consent to a suppression + of the Samoval affair. And without hesitation I accept the further + condition that you make. Sir Terence may consider himself relieved of his + parole in the matter of Lieutenant Butler.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we may look upon the matter as concluded.” + </p> + <p> + “As happily concluded, my lord.” Dom Miguel rose to make his valedictory + oration. “It remains for me only to thank your lordship in the name of the + Council for the courtesy and consideration with which you have received my + proposal and granted our petition. Acquainted as I am with the crystalline + course of British justice, knowing as I do how it seeks ever to act in the + full light of day, I am profoundly sensible of the cost to your lordship + of the concession you make to the feelings of the Samoval family and the + Portuguese Government, and I can assure you that they will be accordingly + grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very gracefully said, Dom Miguel,” replied his lordship, rising + also. + </p> + <p> + The Secretary placed a hand upon his heart, bowing. “It is but the poor + expression of what I think and feel.” And so he took his leave of them, + escorted by Colonel Grant, who discreetly volunteered for the office. + </p> + <p> + Left alone with Wellington, Sir Terence heaved a great sigh of supreme + relief. + </p> + <p> + “In my wife’s name, sir, I should like to thank you. But she shall thank + you herself for what you have done for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have done for you, O’Moy?” Wellington’s slight figure stiffened + perceptibly, his face and glance were cold and haughty. “You mistake, I + think, or else you did not hear. What I have done, I have done solely upon + grounds of political expediency. I had no choice in the matter, and it was + not to favour you, or out of disregard for my duty, as you seem to + imagine, that I acted as I did.” + </p> + <p> + O’Moy bowed his head, crushed under that rebuff. He clasped and unclasped + his hands a moment in his desperate anguish. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he muttered in a broken voice, “I—I beg your pardon, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + And then Wellington’s slender, firm fingers took him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “But I am glad, O’Moy, that I had no choice,” he added more gently. “As a + man, I suppose I may be glad that my duty as Commander-in-Chief placed me + under the necessity of acting as I have done.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence clutched the hand in both his own and wrung it fiercely, + obeying an overmastering impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he cried. “Thank you for that!” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” said Wellington, and then abruptly: “What are you going to do, + O’Moy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do?” said O’Moy, and his blue eyes looked pleadingly down into the + sternly handsome face of his chief, “I am in your hands, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Your resignation is, and there it must remain, O’Moy. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, sir. Naturally you could not after this—” He shrugged + and broke off. “But must I go home?” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “What else? And, by God, sir, you should be thankful, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” was the dull answer, and then he flared out. “Faith, it’s + your own fault for giving me a job of this kind. You knew me. You know + that I am just a blunt, simple soldier—that my place is at the head + of a regiment, not at the head of an administration. You should have known + that by putting me out of my proper element I was bound to get into + trouble sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do,” said Wellington. “But what am I to do with you now?” He + shrugged, and strode towards the window. “You had better go home, O’Moy. + Your health has suffered out here, and you are not equal to the heat of + summer that is now increasing. That is the reason of this resignation. You + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be shamed for ever,” said O’Moy. “To go home when the army is + about to take the field!” + </p> + <p> + But Wellington did not hear him, or did not seem to hear him. He had + reached the window and his eye was caught by something that he saw in the + courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil’s this now?” he rapped out. “That is one of Sir Robert + Craufurd’s aides.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and went quickly to the door. He opened it as rapid steps + approached along the passage, accompanied by the jingle of spurs and the + clatter of sabretache and trailing sabre. Colonel Grant appeared, followed + by a young officer of Light Dragoons who was powdered from head to foot + with dust. The youth—he was little more—lurched forward + wearily, yet at sight of Wellington he braced himself to attention and + saluted. + </p> + <p> + “You appear to have ridden hard, sir,” the Commander greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “From Almeida in forty-seven hours, my lord,” was the answer. “With these + from Sir Robert.” And he proffered a sealed letter. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” Wellington inquired, as he took the package. + </p> + <p> + “Hamilton, my lord,” was the answer; “Hamilton of the Sixteenth, + aide-de-camp to Sir Robert Craufurd.” + </p> + <p> + Wellington nodded. “That was great horsemanship, Mr. Hamilton,” he + commended him; and a faint tinge in the lad’s haggard cheeks responded to + that rare praise. + </p> + <p> + “The urgency was great, my lord,” replied Mr. Hamilton. + </p> + <p> + “The French columns are in movement. Ney and Junot advanced to the + investment of Ciudad Rodrigo on the first of the month.” + </p> + <p> + “Already!” exclaimed Wellington, and his countenance set. + </p> + <p> + “The commander, General Herrasti, has sent an urgent appeal to Sir Robert + for assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “And Sir Robert?” The question came on a sharp note of apprehension, for + his lordship was fully aware that valour was the better part of Sir Robert + Craufurd’s discretion. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Robert asks for orders in this dispatch, and refuses to stir from + Almeida without instructions from your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!!” It was a sigh of relief. He broke the seal and spread the dispatch. + He read swiftly. “Very well,” was all he said, when he had reached the end + of Sir Robert’s letter. “I shall reply to this in person and at, once. You + will be in need of rest, Mr. Hamilton. You had best take a day to + recuperate, then follow me to Almeida. Sir Terence no doubt will see to + your immediate needs.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, Mr. Hamilton,” replied Sir Terence mechanically—for + his own concerns weighed upon him at this moment more heavily than the + French advance. He pulled the bell-rope, and into the fatherly hands of + Mullins, who came in response to the summons, the young officer was + delivered. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington took up his hat and riding-crop from Sir Terence’s desk. + “I shall leave for the frontier at once,” he announced. “Sir Robert will + need the encouragement of my presence to keep him within the prudent + bounds I have imposed. And I do not know how long Ciudad Rodrigo may be + able to hold out. At any moment we may have the French upon the Agueda, + and the invasion may begin. As for you, O’Moy, this has changed + everything. The French and the needs of the case have decided. For the + present no change is possible in the administration here in Lisbon. You + hold the threads of your office and the moment is not one in which to + appoint another adjutant to take them over. Such a thing might be fatal to + the success of the British arms. You must withdraw this resignation.” And + he proffered the document. + </p> + <p> + Sir Terence recoiled. He went deathly white. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” he stammered. “After what has happened, I—” + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington’s face became set and stern. His eyes blazed upon the + adjutant. + </p> + <p> + “O’Moy,” he said, and the concentrated anger of his voice was terrifying, + “if you suggest that any considerations but those of this campaign have + the least weight with me in what I now do, you insult me. I yield to no + man in my sense of duty, and I allow no private considerations to override + it. You are saved from going home in disgrace by the urgency of the + circumstances, as I have told you. By that and by nothing else. Be + thankful, then; and in loyally remaining at your post efface what is past. + You know what is doing at Torres Vedras. The works have been under your + direction from the commencement. See that they are vigorously pushed + forward and that the lines are ready to receive the army in a month’s time + from now if necessary. I depend upon you—the army and England’s + honour depend upon you. I bow to the inevitable and so shall you.” Then + his sternness relaxed. “So much as your commanding officer. Now as your + friend,” and he held out his hand, “I congratulate you upon your luck. + After this morning’s manifestations of it, it should pass into a proverb. + Goodbye, O’Moy. I trust you, remember.” + </p> + <p> + “And I shall not fail you,” gulped O’Moy, who, strong man that he was, + found himself almost on the verge of tears. He clutched the extended hand. + </p> + <p> + “I shall fix my headquarters for the present at Celorico. Communicate with + me there. And now one other matter: the Council of Regency will no doubt + pester you with representations that I should—if time still remains—advance + to the relief of Ciudad Rodrigo. Understand, that is no part of my plan of + campaign. I do not stir across the frontier of Portugal. Here let the + French come and find me, and I shall be ready to receive them. Let the + Portuguese Government have no illusions on that point, and stimulate the + Council into doing all possible to carry out the destruction of mills and + the laying waste of the country in the valley of the Mondego and wherever + else I have required. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and by the way, you will find your brother-in-law, Mr. Butler, in the + guard-room yonder, awaiting my orders. Provide him with a uniform and bid + him rejoin his regiment at once. Recommend him to be more prudent in + future if he wishes me to forget his escapade at Tavora. And in future, + O’Moy, trust your wife. Again, good-bye. Come, Grant!—I have + instructions for you too. But you must take them as we ride.” + </p> + <p> + And thus Sir Terence O’Moy found sanctuary at the altar of his country’s + need. They left him incredulously to marvel at the luck which had so + enlisted circumstances to save him where all had seemed so surely lost an + hour ago. + </p> + <p> + He sent a servant to fetch Mr. Butler, the prime cause of all this pother—for + all of it can be traced to Mr. Butler’s invasion of the Tavora nunnery—and + with him went to bear the incredible tidings of their joint absolution to + the three who waited so anxiously in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POSTSCRIPTUM + </h2> + <p> + The particular story which I have set myself to relate, of how Sir Terence + O’Moy was taken in the snare of his own jealousy, may very properly be + concluded here. But the greater story in which it is enshrined and with + which it is interwoven, the story of that other snare in which my Lord + Viscount Wellington took the French, goes on. This story is the history of + the war in the Peninsula. There you may pursue it to its very end and + realise the iron will and inflexibility of purpose which caused men + ultimately to bestow upon him who guided that campaign the singularly + felicitous and fitting sobriquet of the Iron Duke. + </p> + <p> + Ciudad Rodrigo’s Spanish garrison capitulated on the 10th of July of that + year 1810, and a wave of indignation such as must have overwhelmed any but + a man of almost superhuman mettle swept up against Lord Wellington for + having stood inactive within the frontiers of Portugal and never stirred a + hand to aid the Spaniards. It was not only from Spain that bitter + invective was hurled upon him; British journalism poured scorn and rage + upon his incompetence, French journalism held his pusillanimity up to the + ridicule of the world. His own officers took shame in their general, and + expressed it. Parliament demanded to know how long British honour was to + be imperilled by such a man. And finally the Emperor’s great marshal, + Massena, gathering his hosts to overwhelm the kingdom of Portugal, availed + himself of all this to appeal to the Portuguese nation in terms which the + facts would seem to corroborate. + </p> + <p> + He issued his proclamation denouncing the British for the disturbers and + mischief-makers of Europe, warning the Portuguese that they were the + cat’s-paw of a perfidious nation that was concerned solely with the + serving of its own interests and the gratification of its predatory + ambitions, and finally summoning them to receive the French as their true + friends and saviours. + </p> + <p> + The nation stirred uneasily. So far no good had come to them of their + alliance with the British. Indeed Wellington’s policy of devastation had + seemed to those upon whom it fell more horrible than any French invasion + could have been. + </p> + <p> + But Wellington held the reins, and his grip never relaxed or slackened. + And here let it be recorded that he was nobly and stoutly served in Lisbon + by Sir Terence O’Moy. Pressure upon the Council resulted in the measures + demanded being carried out. But much time had been lost through the + intrigues of the Souza faction, with the result that those measures, + although prosecuted now more vigorously, never reached the full extent + which Wellington had desired. Treachery, too, stepped in to shorten the + time still further. Almeida, garrisoned by Portuguese and commanded by + Colonel Cox and a British staff, should have held a month. But no sooner + had the French appeared before it, on the 26th August, than a powder + magazine traitorously fired exploded and breached the wall, rendering the + place untenable. + </p> + <p> + To Wellington this was perhaps the most vexatious of all things in that + vexatious time. He had hoped to detain Massena before Almeida until the + rains should have set in, when the French would have found themselves + struggling through a sodden, water-logged country, through bridgeless + floods and a land bereft of all that could sustain the troops. Still, what + could be done Wellington did, and did it nobly. Fighting a rearguard + action, he fell back upon the grim and naked ridges of Busaco, where at + the end of September he delivered battle and a murderous detaining wound + upon the advancing hosts of France. That done, he continued the retreat + through Coimbra. And now as he went he saw to it that the devastation was + completed along the line of march. What corn and provisions could not be + carried off were burnt or buried, and the people forced to quit their + dwellings and march with the army—a pathetic, southward exodus of + men and women, old and young, flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle, + creaking bullock-carts laden with provender and household goods, leaving + behind them a country bare as the Sahara, where hunger before long should + grip the French army too far committed now to pause. In advancing and + overtaking must lie Massena’s hope. Eventually in Lisbon he must bring the + British to bay, and, breaking them, open out at last his way into a land + of plenty. + </p> + <p> + Thus thought Massena, knowing nothing of the lines of Torres Vedras; and + thus, too, thought the British Government at home, itself declaring that + Wellington was ruining the country to no purpose, since in the end the + British must be driven out with terrible loss and infamy that must make + their name an opprobrium in the world. + </p> + <p> + But Wellington went his relentless way, and at the end of the first week + of October brought his army and the multitude of refugees safely within + the amazing lines. The French, pressing hard upon their heels and + confident that the end was near, were brought up sharply before those + stupendous, unsuspected, impregnable fortifications. + </p> + <p> + After spending best part of a month in vain reconnoitering, Massena took + up his quarters at Santarem, and thence the country was scoured for what + scraps of victuals had been left to relieve the dire straits of the + famished host of France. How the great marshal contrived to hold out so + long in Santarem against the onslaught of famine and concomitant disease + remains something of a mystery. An appeal to the Emperor for succour + eventually brought Drouet with provisions, but these were no more than + would keep his men alive on a retreat into Spain, and that retreat he + commenced early in the following March, by when no less than ten thousand + of his army had fallen sick. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Wellington was up and after him. The French retreat became a + flight. They threw away baggage and ammunition that they might travel the + lighter. Thus they fled towards Spain, harassed by the British cavalry and + scarcely less by the resentful peasantry of Portugal, their line of march + defined by an unbroken trail of carcasses, until the tattered remnants of + that once splendid army found shelter across the Coira. Beyond this + Wellington could not continue the pursuit for lack of means to cross the + swollen river and also because provisions were running short. + </p> + <p> + But there for the moment he might rest content, his immediate object + achieved and his stern strategy supremely vindicated. + </p> + <p> + On the heights above the yellow, turgid flood rode Wellington with a + glittering staff that included O’Moy and Murray, the + quartermaster-general. Through his telescope he surveyed with silent + satisfaction the straggling columns of the French that were being absorbed + by the evening mists from the sodden ground. + </p> + <p> + O’Moy, at his side, looked on without satisfaction. To him the close of + this phase of the campaign which had justified his remaining in office + meant the reopening of that painful matter that had been left in suspense + by circumstances since that June day of last year at Monsanto. The + resignation then refused from motives of expediency must again be tendered + and must now be accepted. + </p> + <p> + Abruptly upon the general stillness came a sharply humming sound. Within a + yard of the spot where Wellington sat his horse a handful of soil heaved + itself up and fell in a tiny scattered shower. Immediately elsewhere in a + dozen places was the phenomenon repeated. There was too much glitter about + the staff uniforms and vindictive French sharpshooters were finding them + an attractive mark. + </p> + <p> + “They are firing on us, sir!” cried O’Moy on a note of sharp alarm. + </p> + <p> + “So I perceive,” Lord Wellington answered calmly, and leisurely he closed + his glass, so leisurely that O’Moy, in impatient fear of his chief, + spurred forward and placed himself as a screen between him and the line of + fire. + </p> + <p> + Lord Wellington looked at him with a faint smile. He was about to speak + when O’Moy pitched forward and rolled headlong from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + They picked him up unconscious but alive, and for once Lord Wellington was + seen to blench as he flung down from his horse to inquire the nature of + O’Moy’s hurt. It was not fatal, but, as it afterwards proved, it was grave + enough. He had been shot through the body, the right lung had been grazed + and one of his ribs broken. + </p> + <p> + Two days later, after the bullet had been extracted, Lord Wellington went + to visit him in the house where he was quartered. Bending over him and + speaking quietly, his lordship said that which brought a moisture to the + eyes of Sir Terence and a smile to his pale lips. What actually were his + lordship’s words may be gathered from the answer he received. + </p> + <p> + “Ye’re entirely wrong, then, and it’s mighty glad I am. For now I need no + longer hand you my resignation. I can be invalided home.” + </p> + <p> + So he was; and thus it happens that not until now—when this + chronicle makes the matter public—does the knowledge of Sir + Terence’s single but grievous departure from the path of honour go beyond + the few who were immediately concerned with it. They kept faith with him + because they loved him; and because they had understood all that went to + the making of his sin, they condoned it. + </p> + <p> + If I have done my duty as a faithful chronicler, you who read, + understanding too, will take satisfaction in that it was so. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snare, by Rafael Sabatini + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNARE *** + +***** This file should be named 2687-h.htm or 2687-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/2687/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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