Add files from /home/DONE/44362.zip

author: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-03-03 08:40:09 -0800
committer: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-03-03 08:40:09 -0800
commit: ec4076e986b4ea7bc65ac339a6774c966ac5ba46 (patch)
tree: 36f7c91666f5a7b81a1826b28a38d3f557a8dc05 /44362-h
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+<title>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</title>
+<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" />
+<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Adventures of Harry Rochester" />
+<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" />
+<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" />
+<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Herbert Strang" />
+<meta name="DC.Created" content="1905" />
+<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="William Rainey" />
+<meta name="PG.Id" content="44362" />
+<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-12-05" />
+<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" />
+<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Adventures of Harry Rochester A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene" />
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+<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" />
+<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44362" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" />
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+<meta content="William Rainey" name="MARCREL.ill" />
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+</head>
+<body>
+<div class="document" id="the-adventures-of-harry-rochester">
+<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span></h1>
+
+<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet -->
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+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
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+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span>
+included with this eBook or online at
+</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header">
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Adventures of Harry Rochester
+<br />       A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene
+<br />
+<br />Author: Herbert Strang
+<br />
+<br />Release Date: December 05, 2013 [EBook #44362]
+<br />
+<br />Language: English
+<br />
+<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span><span> ***</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container coverpage">
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-100">
+<span id="cover-art"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container frontispiece">
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 81%" id="figure-101">
+<span id="the-fight-in-the-castle-yard"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="The Fight in the Castle Yard" src="images/img-front.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">The Fight in the Castle Yard</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container titlepage">
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">The Adventures of
+<br />Harry Rochester</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A Tale of the
+<br />Days of Marlborough and Eugene</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">HERBERT STRANG</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "TOM BURNABY" "BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE"
+<br />"KOBO: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">NEW YORK
+<br />G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+<br />27 AND 29 WEST 230 STREET
+<br />1905</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-None container verso">
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Honour hath three things in it: the vantage-ground to do
+good; the approach to kings and principal persons; and the
+raising of a man's own fortunes."</span></p>
+<p class="noindent pnext"><span>—</span><em class="italics">Bacon</em><span>.</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">My dear Tom,</em></p>
+<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">You received my former books so kindly that I feel
+assured you will not object to have this volume inscribed with
+your name.  I am not the less convinced of this because you
+know well the country in which my opening scenes are laid,
+and I had the pleasure last year of playing cricket with you
+within a few miles of the village here disguised as Winton
+St. Mary.</em></p>
+<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I hope you will bear with me for one minute while I
+explain that in writing this book I had three aims.  First, to
+tell a good story: that of course.  Secondly, to give some
+account of the operations that resulted in one of the most
+brilliant victories ever gained by our British arms.  Thirdly,
+to throw some light—fitful, it may be, but as clear as the
+circumstances of my story admitted—on life and manners
+two hundred years ago.  History, as you have no doubt
+already learnt, is not merely campaigning; and I shall be
+well pleased if these pages enlarge your knowledge, in ever
+so slight a degree, of an interesting period in our country's
+annals.  And if you, or any other Christ's Hospital boy,
+should convict me of borrowing a week from the life of a
+great personage, or of antedating by a little a development
+in our national pastime—well, I shall feel complimented
+by such evidence of careful reading, and not be
+in the least abashed.</em></p>
+<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">I take the opportunity of this open letter to acknowledge
+my indebtedness to the monumental "Mémoires militaires
+rélatifs à la succession d'Espagne" issued by the French
+General Staff; to Mr. Austin Dobson for a detail which
+only his perfect knowledge of the 18th century could so
+readily have supplied; and to Lord Wolseley's brilliant life
+of Marlborough, which every student of military history
+must hope so competent a hand will continue and complete.</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Yours very sincerely,</em></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">HERBERT STRANG.</em></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Michaelmas Day, 1905.</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> I</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-queen-s-purse-bearer">The Queen's Purse-Bearer</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> II</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sherebiah-shouts">Sherebiah Shouts</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> III</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#master-and-man">Master and Man</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> IV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mynheer-jan-grootz-and-another">Mynheer Jan Grootz and Another</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> V</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-message-from-the-squire">A Message from the Squire</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lord-marlborough-makes-a-note">My Lord Marlborough makes a Note</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#snared">Snared</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> VIII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#flotsam">Flotsam</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> IX</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#monsieur-de-polignac-presses-his-suit">Monsieur de Polignac Presses his Suit</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> X</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#bluff">Bluff</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-battle-of-lindendaal">The Battle of Lindendaal</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-is-discharged">Harry is Discharged</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XIII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-sherebiah">Concerning Sherebiah</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XIV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-rides-for-a-life">Harry Rides for a Life</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-water-of-affliction">The Water of Affliction</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#knaves-all-three">Knaves All Three</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-dusk">In the Dusk</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XVIII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-little-plot">A Little Plot</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#marlborough-s-march-to-the-danube">Marlborough's March to the Danube</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XX</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-castle-of-rauhstein">The Castle of Rauhstein</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#across-the-fosse">Across the Fosse</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-fight-in-the-keep">The Fight in the Keep</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXIII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#blenheim">Blenheim</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXIV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-wages-of-sin">The Wages of Sin</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-bundle-of-letters">A Bundle of Letters</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXVI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-new-squire">The New Squire</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Chapter</em><span> XXVII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#visitors-at-winton-hall">Visitors at Winton Hall</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">List of Illustrations</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> I</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-fight-in-the-castle-yard">The Fight in the Castle Yard</a><span> . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> II</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#harry-makes-a-diversion">Harry makes a Diversion</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> III</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lord-marlborough">My Lord Marlborough</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> IV</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-the-last-gasp">At the Last Gasp</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> V</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mon-colonel-we-are-surrounded">"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VI</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-stroke-of-eight">The Stroke of Eight</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#fire-and-fury-shouted-aglionby">"Fire and Fury!" shouted Aglionby</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Plate</em><span> VIII</span></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mein-wirth-is-surprised">Mein Wirth is Surprised</a></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">Map And Plan</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#map-of-the-low-countries-in-1703">Map of the Low Countries in 1703</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#plan-of-the-battle-of-blenheim">Plan of the Battle of Blenheim</a></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-queen-s-purse-bearer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Queen's Purse-Bearer</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Winton St. Mary—Cricket: Old Style—Last Man
+In—Bowled—The Gaffer Explains—More Explanations—Parson
+Rochester—"The Boy"—Cambridge in the Field—Village
+Batsmen—Old Everlasting makes One—The Squire—An
+Invitation—Lord Godolphin is Interested—An Uphill
+Game—Young Pa'son—The Winning Hit</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Stap me, Frank, if ever I rattle my old bones over these
+roads again!  Every joint in me aches; every wrinkle—and
+I've too many—is filled with dust; and my wig—plague
+on it, Frank, my wig's a doormat.  Look at it—whew!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>My lord Godolphin took off his cocked hat, removed
+his full periwig, and shook it over the side of the calash,
+wrying his lips as the horse of one of his escort started
+at the sudden cloud.  My lord had good excuse for his
+petulance.  It was a brilliant June day, in a summer of
+glorious weather, and the Wiltshire roads, no better nor
+worse than other English highways in the year 1702, were
+thick with white dust, which the autumn rains would by
+and by transform into the stickiest of clinging mud.  The
+Lord High Treasurer, as he lay back wearily on his
+cushions, looked, with his lean, lined, swarthy face and
+close-cropt grizzled poll, every day of his fifty-eight years.
+He was returning with his son Francis, now nearly twenty-three,
+from a visit to his estates in Cornwall.  Had he been
+a younger man he would no doubt have ridden his own
+horse; had he been of lower rank he might have travelled
+by the public coach; but being near sixty, a baron, and
+lord of the Treasury to boot, he drove in his private
+four-horsed calash, with two red-coated postilions, and four
+sturdy liveried henchmen on horseback, all well armed
+against the perils of footpads and highwaymen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was nearing noon on this bright, hot morning, and
+my lord had begun to acknowledge to himself that he
+would barely complete his journey to London that day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we now, Dickory?" he asked languidly of
+the nearest rider on the off-side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nigh Winton St. Mary, my lord," replied the man.
+"Down the avenue yonder, my lord; then the common,
+and the church on the right, and the village here and there
+bearing to the left, as you might say, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee, Frank, we'll draw up at Winton St. Mary
+and wet our whistles.  My lady Marlborough expects
+us in town to-night, to be sure; but she must e'en be
+content to wait.  Time was——eh, my boy?—but now,
+egad, I'll not kill myself for her or any woman."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be a calamity—for the nation, sir," said
+Frank Godolphin with a grin.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So it would, i' faith.  Never fear, Frank, I'll not
+make way for you for ten years to come.  But what's
+afoot yonder?  A fair, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The carriage had threaded a fine avenue of elms, and
+come within sight of the village common, which stretched
+away beyond and behind the church, an expanse of rough
+turf now somewhat parched and browned, broken here
+by a patch of shrub, there by a dwindling pond, and
+bounded in the distance by the thick coverts of the
+manor-house.  My lord's exclamation had been called forth by
+the bright spectacle that met his eyes.  At the side of
+the road, and encroaching also on the grass, were ranged
+a number of vehicles of various sizes and descriptions,
+from the humble donkey-cart of a sherbet seller to the
+lofty coach of some county magnate.  Between the
+carriages the travellers caught glimpses of a crowd; and
+indeed, as they drew nearer to the scene, their ears were
+assailed by sundry shoutings and clappings that seemed
+to betoken incidents of sport or pastime.  My lord
+Godolphin, for all his coldness and reserve in his official
+dealings, was in his moments a keen sportsman; from
+a horse-race to a main of cock-fighting or a sword-match,
+nothing that had in it the element of sport came
+amiss to him; and as he replaced his wig and settled
+his hat upon it his eyes lit up with an anticipation vastly
+different from his air of weary discontent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Split me, Frank," he cried in a more animated tone
+than was usual with him; "whatever it is, 'twill cheer us
+up.  John," he added to the postilion, "drive on to the
+grass, and stop at the first opening you find in the ring.
+Odsbodikins, 'tis a game at cricket; we'll make an
+afternoon of it, Frank, and brave your mother-in-law's anger,
+come what may."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The postilions whipped up their horses, wheeled to the
+right, and drove with many a jolt on to the common,
+passing behind the row of vehicles until they came to an
+interval between one of the larger sort and a dray heaped
+with barrels of cider.  There they pulled up sideways to
+the crowd, over whose heads the occupants of the calash
+looked curiously towards the scene of the game.  It was
+clearly an exciting moment, for beyond a casual turning
+of the head the nearest spectators gave no heed to the
+new-comers.  A space was roped in at some distance in
+front of the church, and within the ring the wickets were
+pitched—very primitive compared with the well-turned
+polished apparatus of to-day.  The stumps were two short
+sticks forked at the top, stuck at a backward slant into
+the turf about a foot apart, with one long bail across them.
+Nothing had been done to prepare the pitch; the grass
+was short and dry and stubby, with a tuft here and there
+likely to trip an unwary fielder headlong.  There was no
+crease, but a hole in the ground.  Nor was there any
+uniformity of attire among the players: all had the
+stockings and pantaloons of daily wear, and if there was any
+difference in their shirts, it was due merely to their
+difference in rank and wealth.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Over" had just been called as Lord Godolphin and his
+son drove up, and something in the attitude of the crowd
+seemed to show that the game was at a crisis.  The
+umpires, armed with rough curved bats somewhat like
+long spoons, had just taken their new places, and the
+batsman who was to receive the first ball of the new over
+was taking his block.  A tall, loose-limbed young fellow,
+he held his bat with an air of easy confidence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, sir, 'tis Gilbert Young," said Frank Godolphin
+to his father.  "I knew him at Cambridge: a sticker.
+Who's the bowler?  I don't know him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The bowler was a youth, a mere stripling of some
+sixteen or seventeen years, who stood at his end of the
+wicket, ball in hand, awaiting the word to "play".  His
+loose shirt was open at the neck; his black hair, not yet
+cropt for a wig, fell in a strong thick mass over his
+brow; and as he waited for the batsman to complete his
+somewhat fastidious preparations, he once or twice pushed
+up the heavy cluster with his left hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gibs was ever a tantalising beast," said Frank aside.
+"Hi, you fellow!" he shouted to a broad-shouldered yokel
+who stood just in front of him by the rope, "how stands
+the score?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man addressed looked over his shoulder, and seeing
+that the speaker was one of the "quality" he doffed his
+cap and replied:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis ninety-four notches, your honour, and last man in.
+Has a'ready twenty-vive to hisself, and the Winton boys
+can't get un out."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Play!" cried the umpire.  The batsman stood to his
+block, and looked round the field with a smile of
+confidence.  The bowler gave a quick glance around, took
+a light run of some three yards, and delivered the
+ball—underhand, for round-arm bowling was not yet invented.
+The ball travelled swiftly, no more than two or three feet
+above the ground, pitched in front of the block-hole, and
+was driven hard to the off towards a thick-set, grimy-looking
+individual—the village smith.  He, bending to
+field the ball, missed it, swung round to run after it, and
+fell sprawling over a tussock of grass, amid yells of
+mingled derision and disappointment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pick theeself up, Lumpy!" roared the man to whom
+Frank Godolphin had spoken.  But the ball had already
+been fielded by Long Robin the tanner, running round
+from long-on.  Sir Gilbert meanwhile had got back to his
+end of the wicket, and the scorer, seated near the umpire,
+had cut two notches in the scoring stick.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Again the ball was bowled, with an even lower delivery
+than before.  The batsman stepped a yard out of his
+ground and caught the ball on the rise; it flew high over
+the head of the remotest fieldsman, over the rope, over
+the crowd, and dropped within a foot of the lych-gate of
+the church.  Loud cheers from a party of gentlemen
+mounted on coaches in front of a tent greeted this stroke;
+four notches were cut to the credit of the side, bringing
+the score to a hundred.  There was dead silence among
+the crowd now; it was plain that their sympathies lay
+with the out side, and this ominous opening of the new
+bowler's over was a check upon their enjoyment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Gilbert once more stood to his block.  For his third
+ball the bowler took his run on the other side of the
+wicket.  His delivery this time was a little higher: the
+ball pitched awkwardly, and the batsman seemed to be in
+two minds what to do with it.  His hesitation was fatal.
+With a perplexing twist the ball slid along the ground
+past his bat, hit the off stump, and just dislodged the bail,
+which fell perpendicularly and lay across between the
+sticks.  Sir Gilbert looked at it for a moment with rueful
+countenance, then marched towards the tent, while the
+crowd cheered and, the innings being over, made for the
+stalls and carts, at which ale and cider and gingerbread
+were to be had.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, 'twas well bowled," ejaculated Lord Godolphin;
+"a cunning ball, a most teasing twist; capital, capital!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go and speak to Gibs," said Frank.  "Will you
+come, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I, i' faith.  'Tis too hot.  Bring him to me.  I'll
+drink a glass of cider here and wait your return."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a cider cart near at hand, and his man
+Dickory brought my lord a brimming bumper drawn from
+the wood.  He winced as the tart liquor touched his
+palate, unaccustomed to such homely drink; but it was
+at least cool and refreshing, and he finished the bumper.
+As he gave it back he noticed an old man slowly
+approaching, leaning with one hand upon a stout knobby
+stick of oak, and holding in the other a rough three-legged
+stool, which he placed between my lord's calash and the
+rope.  He was a fine-looking old man, dressed in plain
+country homespun; his cheeks were seamed and weather-beaten,
+but there was still a brightness in his eyes and an
+erectness in his figure that bespoke health and the joy of
+life.  He sat down on the stool, took off his hat and wiped
+his brow, then, resting both hands on his stick, looked
+placidly around him.  There was no one near to him; the
+space was clear, for players and spectators had all flocked
+their several ways to get refreshment, and for some
+minutes the old man sat alone.  Then Lord Godolphin,
+to ease his limbs and kill time, stepped out of his carriage
+and went towards the veteran.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, gaffer," he said, "have ye come out to get
+a sunning?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked up.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, your honour," he said, "and to zee the
+match.  You med think me too old; true, I be gone eighty;
+come Martinmas I shall be eighty-one, and I ha'n't a
+wamblen tooth in my head—not one, old as I be.  A
+man's as old as he feels, says my boy—one o' the wise
+sayens he has: I ha'n't felt no older this twenty year,
+nay, nor twenty-vive year neither."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By George!  I wish I could say the same.  What's the
+match, gaffer?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they do say 'tis for a wager; 'tis all 'I'll lay ye
+this' and 'I'll lay ye that' in these days.  I don't know
+the rights on't, but 'tis said it all come about at a supper
+up at Squire's.—Do 'ee know Squire?  Eh well, there be
+the house, yonder among the trees.  Squire's son be hot
+wi' his tongue, and at this same supper—I tell 'ee as I
+yeard it—he wagered young Master Godfrey of the Grange
+he'd bring eleven young gen'lmen from Cambridge college
+as would beat our village players at the cricket.  A
+hunnerd guineas was the wager, so 'tis said.  Master
+Godfrey he ups and says 'Done wi' 'ee', and so 'tis come
+about.  The Cambridge younkers be all high gentry,
+every man on 'em; our folks, as your honour med see, be
+just or'nary folks in the main: there's Long Robin the
+tanner and Lumpy the smith—he that turned topsy-turvy
+a-hunten the ball by there; and Honest John the miller:
+Old Everlasten they calls un, 'cause he never gets cotched
+out nor bowled neither: ay, a good stick is Old
+Everlasten, wi' a tough skin of his own.  And there be Soapy
+Dick the barber, and Tom cobbler, and more of the
+village folk; and the only gentry among 'em is Master
+Godfrey hisself and pa'son's son, and he don't count
+for gentry wi' some.  Do 'ee know pa'son? a good man,
+saven your honour, ay, a right good man is Pa'son
+Rochester, and stands up to old Squire like a game-cock,
+so he do—a right good man is pa'son, ay sure.  And his
+son Harry—well, to tell 'ee the truth, I'm main fond of
+the lad; main fond; 'tis a well-favoured lad, well spoken
+too, and he thinks a deal o' me, he do, and I thinks a
+deal o' he.  Why, 'twas he bowled that artful ball as
+put out t' last man from Cambridge college.—There, my
+old tongue runs on; I don't offend your honour?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a whit," said my lord.  "The young bowler is
+the parson's son, eh?  Bred for a parson too, I suppose?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He's over young yet, your honour, but a month gone
+seventeen.  He said to me only yesterday: 'Gaffer,' says
+he, 'what'll 'ee do 'ithout me when I go up to Oxford?'  He
+be gwine come October, a' believe.  'Twas at Oxford
+college they made his feyther a pa'son, so belike the lad'll
+put on the petticoats too, though sure he's fit for summat
+better.  But he'll make a good pa'son if he takes arter his
+feyther.  Bless 'ee, Pa'son Rochester be the only man in
+the parish as a'n't afeard o' Squire.  I be afeard o'
+Squire, I be, though 'ee med not think it.  Ah! he's a
+hard man, is Squire.  A' fell out with pa'son first 'cause
+he wouldn't be his chaplain—goo up t' hall an' say
+grace and eat the mutton and turmuts, an' come away
+wi'out pudden.  Wi'out pudden!—I wouldn't goo wi'out
+pudden for no man; that's why I first took a fancy for
+pa'son.  Then Squire, he wanted to fence in a big slice of
+this common land, as ha' belonged to the folks of Winton
+Simmary time wi'out mind; and pa'son stood up to 'n,
+and told 'n flat to his face 'twas agen the law, an' he had
+the law on 'm, he did; an' the wise judges up in Lun'on
+town said as how Squire were wrong.  But Lor' bless 'ee,
+Squire be as obstinate as a pig; he don't care nowt for
+judges; he ups and 'peals to King Willum hisself.  Then
+King Willum dies, poor feller, an' Queen Anne sits proud
+on the gold throne, an' there 'tis; 'twill take a time for
+her poor woman's mind to understand the rights o' the
+matter; her don't know pa'son so well as we."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Or she might make him a bishop, eh?  Perhaps I can
+put in a word for him," said my lord jestingly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The old man stared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And who med 'ee be, your honour, if I mebbe so bold
+to axe?" he said slowly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I?  Oh—well, I have care of the Queen's purse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, and I've been talken to 'ee just as if 'ee
+were a knight or squire, when I med ha' known 'ee by
+your cut for one of the mighty o' the earth.  But 'ee'll
+forgive a old man—ay, gone eighty year.  I was born
+three year afore Scotch Jamie died; no sart of a king was
+Jamie, a wamblen loon, so I've yeard tell.  And Charles
+One, he was well-favoured before the Lord, true, but not
+a man of his word.  Nay, Noll Crum'ell was the right sart
+o' king; I mind un well.  I was a trooper in his
+regiment, and we was as fine a set o' men as ever trod neat's
+leather, true, we was.  I rode wi' un to Marston Moor
+in '44, nigh zixty year back.  Ay, a right king was old
+Noll.  And I fought in Flanders when Noll was friends
+with the French king; but I left that line o' life when
+Charles Two come back with his French madams; and
+now we be a-fighten the French, so 'tis said; 'twas what
+us Englishmen was born for, to be sure; ay, that 'tis."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Here my lord's attention was attracted towards a group
+of villagers approaching.  They were led by a short
+well-set-up fellow with a humorous cast of face; his thumbs
+were stuck into his arm-pits, and as he walked he was
+singing to the accompaniment of a flute played by the man
+at his side.  The old man looked towards him and smiled
+affectionately.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my boy a-comen," he said.  "Was born in '59,
+your honour, the year afore Charles Two coom back;
+and I chrisomed un Sherebiah Stand-up-and-bless out of
+Nehemiah nine; a good boy, though wilful."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The boy of forty-three was singing lustily:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"'Twas on a jolly summer's morn, the twenty-first of May,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Giles Scroggins took his turmut-hoe, and with it trudged away.</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>For some delights in hay-makin', and some they fancies mowin',</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>But of all the trades as I likes best, give I the turmut hoein'.</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>For the fly, the fly, the fly is on the turmut;</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>And 'tis all my eye for we to try, to keep fly off the turmut."</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Mum, boy, mum!" said his father.  "The boy has a
+sweet breast, your honour," he added, turning to Godolphin,
+"and 'tis my belief 'twill lead un into bad company
+in the days o' his youth.  He </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> sing 'Sir Simon the
+King' and 'Bobbing Joan', and other sinful ditties.  Ah!
+I had a good breast in my time; and you should ha' yeard
+Noll's men sing as we marched into Preston fight; I could
+sing counter to any man.—Boy, doff your hat to the
+Queen's purse-bearer.—Ay, 'twas psa'ms an' hymns an'
+speritual songs in my time, as the Book says."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sarvant, yer honour," said the new-comer, bobbing
+to Godolphin.  "Feyther been taken away my good
+name?  'Tis a wise feyther knows his own child; feyther
+o' mine forgot that when he named me Sherebiah
+Stand-up-and-bless.  Beant the fault o' my name I ha'n't took
+to bad courses.  But there, he's a old ancient man, nigh
+ready for churchyard—bean't 'ee, dad?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not till I make a man on 'ee, boy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"May I present my friend Sir Gilbert Young, sir?"
+said Frank Godolphin, coming up at this moment through
+the gathering crowd.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>My lord bowed and swept off his hat in the courtly
+fashion of the day, in response to a still lower salutation
+from the young Cambridge man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am honoured, my lord," said Sir Gilbert.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lard, i' fecks!" ejaculated Sherebiah's father, with
+a startled look.  "My lard,—an' I ha'n't even pulled my
+forelock!  Boy, doff your cap to my lard!  And the Book
+says, 'They shall stand afore princes', and I'm a-sitten!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The old fellow began to struggle to his feet with the
+aid of his staff, but Godolphin laid his hand on his arm,
+and pressed him down.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit fast, gaffer," he said.  "See, the players are
+coming out again.  I am pleased to have met one of
+Noll's veterans so hale and hearty, and I hope your son
+will turn out as great a comfort to you as mine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm fondly through Frank's, and returned
+to his carriage.  The crowd was collecting about the
+rope, and the Cambridge men were already taking their
+places in the field.  Their score of a hundred was higher
+than the average in those days, and the villagers were
+eagerly discussing the chances of their team excelling it.
+They had seen nothing of the other side's bowling powers,
+but as they compared notes on the various merits as
+batsmen of Honest John, and Long Robin, and Lumpy, and
+the rest, many of them shook their heads and looked
+rather down in the mouth.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The first pair of batsmen came to the wickets.  They
+were Old Everlasting and Soapy Dick.  The former took
+the first over, bowled by Gilbert Young, the captain
+of the team, and calmly blocked every ball of the four,
+giving a wink to his friends in the crowd when over was
+called.  Soapy Dick, at the other wicket, was a little man
+with very red hair brushed up into a sort of top-knot in
+front.  He handled his bat in a nervous manner, and was
+made still more nervous by the cries of the crowd.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hit un, Soapy!" cried one yokel.  "Doan't be afeard, man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gi't lather, Soapy!" shouted another, whose cheeks
+cried out for the barber's attentions.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Dick grinned mirthlessly, and fixed his eyes on the
+bowler at the other end.  The ball came towards him—a
+slow, tempting lob that was too easy to let pass.  Dick
+lifted his bat and smote; the ball returned gently to the
+bowler's hands, and a roar of derision sped the
+shame-faced little barber back to the tent.  One wicket down,
+and no notches!—a bad beginning for Winton St. Mary.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Lumpy was the next to appear.  He waddled across
+the grass turning up his sleeves—a fat little fellow with
+bandy legs, and arms as thick as most men's thighs.  As
+he stood to take his block, he seemed to handle the bat
+with contemptuous surprise, as though wondering what
+use that was to a man accustomed to wield the
+sledgehammer at the anvil.  Satisfied with his position, he
+planted his feet firmly, drew his left hand across his
+mouth, and glared fiercely at the bowler.  He was not
+to be so easily tempted as poor Soapy Dick had been.
+He waited for the ball, and as it rose brought his bat
+down upon it with a perpendicular blow that appeared to
+drive it into the turf, where it lay dead.  The Cambridge
+men roared with laughter, the crowd applauded vigorously,
+and Lumpy once more wiped his mouth on the
+back of his hand.  The third ball of the over came,
+pitching slightly to leg.  Lumpy jumped completely round as
+the ball reached him, and with a tremendous swipe sent
+it high over long-stop's head into a patch of gorse, whence
+it was not recovered until he had had three notches cut
+to his credit.  The last ball of the over thus came to
+Old Everlasting, who solemnly blocked it, and beamed
+upon the spectators with his usual smug smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Lumpy had but a short life, after all.  There was no
+cunning about him; if he hit a ball it was bound to travel
+far, but he struck out every time with the same violence,
+and when he missed could hardly recover his balance.  In
+twenty minutes he had scored eleven notches, Old
+Everlasting having consistently done nothing but block the
+balls that fell to him; then, in hitting out, Lumpy, never
+too steady on his bow leg's, overbalanced himself and fell
+flat, and the long bail was promptly knocked off by the
+wicket-keeper.  Two wickets down for eleven.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After this, disaster followed disaster in such rapid
+succession that the villagers looked blue.  Long Robin the
+tanner was caught second ball, and was afterwards heard
+complaining bitterly of the bad leather the ball was made
+of.  Tom the cobbler came to the wicket with a bat of
+his own—one that he kept hanging behind his kitchen
+door, and took down every week for a thorough greasing.
+He scored six notches, then hit a ball into his wicket, and
+in the tent afterwards explained to his cronies that another
+week's greasing would have prevented the accident.  Four
+wickets were now down for seventeen, and Godfrey
+Fanshawe himself came in, amid a great outburst of cheers
+from the crowd, with whom he was very popular, and
+who looked to him, as the originator of the match and
+the captain of the team, to retrieve the fortunes of the
+day.  He snicked his first ball for one; then Old
+Everlasting evoked intense enthusiasm by poking a ball
+between slip and point, and scoring his first notch.  The
+score rose slowly to thirty-one, Fanshawe making all the
+runs, and then he ran himself out in trying to snatch an
+extra from an overthrow.  The fifth wicket was down.
+Fanshawe was reputed the best batsman in the team,
+and Winton St. Mary was still sixty-nine behind.  There
+was much shaking of the head among the villagers, and
+they waited in glum silence for the next man to appear.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee!" exclaimed the old trooper suddenly, "beant
+that old Squire a-comen down-along by covert fence?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Gaffer Minshull," said a by-stander; "what
+eyes 'ee've got, for a old ancient soul!  'Tis old Squire
+sure enough, and young Squire and the Cap'n wi' un."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull leant forward on his stick, and with
+pursed lips peered at the three figures approaching.  One
+was a burly man in the prime of life, dressed in
+semi-military garb—a feathered hat, long red coat marked
+with many stains and wanting some buttons, leather
+breeches, and spurred boots.  His features were coarse
+and red, his eyes prominent and blood-shot; he walked
+with a swagger, his left hand on his sword-hilt.  The
+second was a youth of some twenty years, dressed in
+the extremity of foppishness.  A black hat, looped up
+and cocked over one eye, crowned a full auburn wig
+fastidiously curled.  The coat was blue, the waistcoat
+purple, open to display a fine holland shirt.  A laced
+steinkirk was tucked in at the breast.  The breeches
+matched the vest, the stockings were of red silk, the
+shoes had high red heels and large silver buckles.  In
+Mr. Piers Berkeley's mouth was a toothpick; from one
+of the buttons of his coat dangled an amber-headed cane.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The third figure was a striking contrast to the others.
+He was tall and thin and bent, with pale wrinkled cheeks
+and bushy white eyebrows that ill matched his dark wig.
+He scarcely lifted his eyes from the ground as he moved
+slowly along, leaning heavily upon a silver-knobbed stick.
+His dress was fusty and of a bygone mode; to a
+Londoner the old man must have resembled a figure out of
+a picture of Charles the Second's time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's this queer old put ambling along, Frank?"
+asked my lord.  "The rascals there avoid him as he had
+the plague."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"On my life I don't know, sir," replied Mr. Godolphin.
+"The fellow with him might stand for Bobadil himself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Or for Captain Bluffe in Mr. Congreve's play."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And the young sprig wants a kicking."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sarvant, my lord," put in Sherebiah, who was standing
+by; "'tis old Squire, and young Squire, and——  No,
+I won't say 't; a wise head keeps a still tongue; I won't
+say 't, leastways when a fowl o' the air med carry it
+where 'twould do me and feyther o' mine no manner
+o' good."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd parted with a kind of sullen unwilling respect
+to make way for the new-comers.  Suddenly the squire
+paused, as the elder of his two companions addressed him;
+flashing an angry glance at him, he said a few vehement
+words in a low tone that no one else could hear.  Captain
+Ralph Aglionby laughed aloud, shrugged carelessly, and
+sauntered across the common towards the tent.  The
+squire followed him with a dark glance for a moment,
+then resumed his slow progress with his son, and came
+to within a few feet of Lord Godolphin's carriage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship's servant," he said with a profound
+bow, copied with elaborate elegance by his son.  His
+voice was thin and hard, a voice that set the teeth on
+edge.  "I heard your lordship was on the ground, and
+made bold to come and pay my duty to your lordship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am vastly beholden to you, Mr.——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley, my lord, Nicolas Berkeley of Winton Hall;
+and would your lordship but favour me, I should be proud,
+when the match is over, to offer your lordship a cover at
+my table—poor country fare, I fear, but such as it is,
+freely at your lordship's disposal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis handsome of you, Mr. Berkeley, but I fear our
+business will not permit us to accept of your hospitality.—Ah!
+I perceive the next batsman is coming to the wicket.
+I hope you're as keen a sportsman as I am myself, and
+will forgive me if I fix my attention on the game."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley bowed again with expressionless face, and
+after a moment's irresolution moved away.  Gaffer
+Minshull might have been observed to lick his old lips with
+appreciation at this the very courtliest of cold shoulders.
+Piers Berkeley, the young squire, stayed for a minute or
+two, gazing with silly face at my lord; then, finding that
+he remained unnoticed, he stuck the head of his cane into
+his mouth and walked away sucking it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The game was resumed.  For an hour it was tedious
+watching.  The new batsman snatched a run now and
+then, while Old Everlasting blocked every ball that came
+to him with the same want of enterprise and the same
+boundless self-satisfaction.  At length his partner was
+caught in the long field; the sixth wicket had fallen,
+and the score was no more than forty-five.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give you three to one against the rustics, Frank," said
+Lord Godolphin.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take you, sir, though 'tis a risk.  Who's our next
+man?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis our bowler friend, the young sprig of a parson,
+unless I mistake," said my lord.  "What's the lad's name,
+gaffer?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis Henry Winterborne Rochester, my lard, by the
+water o' baptism; too rich a name for poor folks like we.
+Young pa'son we calls un mostly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A limber youth.  I like his looks, eh, Frank?  Does
+he bat as well as he bowls?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Middlen, my lord, middlen," said Sherebiah.  "Has
+a good eye, but a deal o' growen to do afore he can
+smite the ball as it should.  But there, my lord, he as
+can't do what he would must do what he can, as you
+med say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothen truer, boy," said his father approvingly.  "Ay,
+'tis a pretty lad.  Gi' un a cheer, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mum, feyther," expostulated Sherebiah.  "Old Squire's
+comen back-along this way; little sticks kindle fires, as
+you med say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True.  I be a timbersome man, afeard o' Squire,
+though you med n't think it.  Well!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But though Gaffer Minshull forbore to cheer, the rest of
+the crowd had no scruples, and the warmth of their greeting
+brought a flush to the new batsman's honest face.  He
+stood at the wicket with quiet ease and watched Old
+Everlasting block the last ball of the over; then he glanced
+around, stooped to his bat, and fixed his gray eyes steadily
+on the bowler.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of the afternoon provided an unfailing subject
+for gossip in the village for six months afterwards.
+Playing at first with patient wariness, Harry never let a ball
+pass his bat, but treated all with a respectful consideration
+that was as noticeable as his graceful style.  He played
+two overs without getting a notch; then, after another
+excellent blocking performance by his partner, came a
+change.  The first ball of the next over was rather loose;
+Lord Godolphin, who, perhaps alone of the spectators, kept
+his gaze fixed on the batsman's face, saw his lips come
+together with a slight pressure and his eyes suddenly
+gleam—and there was the ball, flying straight over the
+bowler's head, passing between two coaches into the road.
+Gaffer Minshull was on the point of raising his stick to
+wave it, but was stopped by his son with a "Mind old
+Squire, feyther o' mine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Varty-vive and vour makes varty-nine," muttered the
+old man.  "I could do a bit o' cipheren in my time.  Ay,
+varty-nine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing came of the next ball, but the third rose most
+happily to Harry's bat, and with a neat little cut he sent it
+under the rope among the crowd, who nimbly parted to let
+it roll.  Three notches were cut to his credit.  Old
+Everlasting complacently blocked the next ball, and Harry
+treated the bowler at the other end with great respect till
+the fourth ball, which he snicked away for a single.
+Getting back thus to the wicket at which he had started, he
+delighted the spectators by driving every ball of the over,
+at the close of which the score had risen to sixty-three.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the eye doos it," said the old man delightedly;
+"Master Harry has'n clear an' steady.  Ay sure, a' would
+ha' made a good captain for Noll Crum'ell; if so be he's
+a pa'son, all the use he can make o' his eye, 'twill be to
+tarrify poor sinners like you an' me, my lard."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But misfortune was in store for the Winton St. Mary
+men.  Old Everlasting had the first ball of the next over,
+delivered by a new bowler, a lanky fellow with a
+tremendous pace, for whom two long-stops were placed.  The
+batsman was taken by surprise; he missed the ball, the
+stumps went flying, and Old Everlasting walked away
+scratching his poll, rejoicing in the magnificent score of
+one.  Harry accompanied him to the tent, and held a
+short conversation with the next man.  The fruit of this
+was seen as soon as they reached the wickets.  The first
+ball missed bat, stumps, wicket-keeper, and both
+long-stops; Harry called his partner for a bye, and though
+there was plenty of time for a second run he was
+contented with a single, thus securing the next ball.  This
+he hit round to leg, a stroke that ought to have made two,
+but his partner was somewhat bulky, and suffered for his
+misfortune by being promptly run out after one run had
+been scored.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Eight wickets were now down, and the score was
+sixty-five—thirty-five behind that of the Cambridge eleven.  A
+restlessness was observable in the crowd; it seemed
+impossible that the home team could win; and there was
+general despondency when it was noticed that the
+incoming batsman was a spindle-legged fellow known as
+Soft Jemmy, who did odd jobs about the village.  Only
+Sherebiah still appeared full of confidence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A fight bean't lost till it be won," he said.  "Keep
+up your sperits, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soft Jemmy never got a chance to miss the ball.  Such
+scheming was never seen on a cricket-field before.  Harry
+had privately instructed Jemmy to do just as he was told,
+and the half-witted youth at least knew how to obey.
+When Harry called him he ran; when told to stand in
+his ground he remained fixed like a post; and so, snatching
+byes, blocking, hitting when it was safe, Harry defied
+all the bowling, and the score rose by ones and twos and
+threes.  A change came over the attitude of the
+spectators.  From dejection they passed to almost delirious
+joy.  Every hit was cheered to the echo; every little
+manoeuvre of "young pa'son" added to their delight.
+The effect on the out side was equal and opposite.
+They became irritated at the altered aspect of the game.
+Bowlers bowled wildly; fieldsmen fielded loosely, and got
+in one another's way; and the more agitated they became,
+the more coolly and confidently did Harry ply his bat.  At
+last, stepping out to a full pitch, he made a magnificent
+drive over the bowler's head, and brought the total to a
+hundred and two.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The cheer that rose from the crowd might have been
+heard a mile away.  Some of the men made a rush for
+Harry, and bore him shoulder-high to the tent.  Others
+flew to secure their winnings, and celebrate the famous
+victory in cider or home-brewed ale.  Gaffer Minshull was
+with difficulty dissuaded from whirling his hat round on
+the top of his stick, and nothing could check his gleeful
+exclamation:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A flick to young Squire; a terrible douse, ay sure!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, a notable match!" said Godolphin.  "Your
+young parson is a lad of mettle, gaffer; he'll be a
+sportsman an he lives long enough.  Here, man, drink his
+health, and tell him from me that the Lord Treasurer
+loves pretty play.  Come, Frank, we'll drive on."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He flung a coin to the old man, remounted his carriage,
+and drove off.  Gaffer looked at the money, then after the
+calash.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, 'tis a mighty fine thing to hold the Queen's purse,
+my lads, mighty fine!  There be a power o' these same
+shinen bright ones in the Queen's purse; eh, lads?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A shout came from the distance, and the eyes of the
+small group around old Minshull were turned towards
+the road.  Lord Godolphin's carriage had broken down.
+The axle had snapped in two; the horses were plunging,
+and my lord and his son were clinging to the sides of the
+vehicle.  A score of sturdy fellows rushed to lend a hand,
+and Gaffer Minshull was left to himself.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="sherebiah-shouts"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Sherebiah Shouts</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">An Angling Story—Old Izaak—Landed—Breakfast—Marlborough's
+Smile—The Story of a Potticary—Dosed—On the
+Horizon—Highwaymen—A Man of Peace—Behind the Scenes—Nos
+Duo—Promises—Black John Simmons—Sherebiah is Troubled</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Tis here or hereabouts, baten years ha'n't tooken my
+memory.  True, feyther o' mine calls me boy, and so I be
+to a old aged man like him; but when a man's comen on
+forty-four, and ha' seen summat o' the world—well,</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"'Man's life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>An' sorrow, an' short as a bubble;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>'Tis a hodge-podge o' business, an' money, an' care,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>An' care, an' money, an' trouble.'</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Ay, 'tis so, 'tis so!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah sighed, but the sigh ill became his round,
+jolly face; it was merely to chime with the words of the
+song.  He was walking, about six o'clock on the morning
+after the cricket-match, along the bank of a little
+hill-stream, rod in hand, yet not expecting to halt for a while,
+for he took no pains to moderate his voice.  He was not
+alone.  His companion was the youth who had won
+the match for Winton St. Mary on the previous day—Harry
+Rochester, the parson's son.  Each carried a rod—the
+huge clumsy rod of those days, nearly seventeen feet
+in length; each was laden with wallet, landing-net, and
+other apparatus; and in fact they had already had an
+hour's sport with ground-bait, having risen from their
+beds soon after three on this ideal angler's morning.  A
+haze lay over the ground, and a light rain was falling.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was several yards ahead, scanning the banks.
+His voice sank a little as he repeated the lines:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"'Tis a hodge-podge o' business, an' money, an' care,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>An' care, an' money, an' trouble."</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Cheer up!" said Harry, behind him.  "I like the second
+verse best, Sherry:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"'But we'll take no care when the weather proves fair,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Nor will we vex now though it rain—</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>He was interrupted by the sudden halt of Sherebiah.
+The man had swung round; his lips were shot out in the
+motion of shooing, a warning finger was held up.  Harry's
+voice died away, and he hastened to his companion's side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yonder's the spot," said Sherebiah in a whisper, pointing
+to a large pool, shaded with willows, some thirty yards
+ahead.  "Mum's the word!  They be sharp-eared, they
+trouts.  'Tis there I took ten lusty nibblers, ten year
+agoo come Michaelmas.  Faith, 'twas all I could do to
+carry 'em; ay, and I shouldn' ha' got 'em home but for
+Tom Dorrell, t' carrier from Salisbury, who came trundlen
+along in his wagon.  He be dead an' gone, poor soul, as
+must we all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what did you do with them?" asked Harry with
+a smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was famous for his angling stories, and they
+had perhaps as much foundation as most.  No one in the
+country-side knew the ways of the trout as he did; but he
+was equally at home in trolling for jack or pike, roving
+for perch, and sniggling for eels.  None could match his
+knowledge of the flies in their several seasons: the hour
+of the day at which each is most killing; the merits of
+the silver twist hackle and the lady-fly, whether for
+dapping or whipping; when to use the black gnat, when the
+blue; under what conditions of the evening sky the shyest
+trout will rise to a red spinner.  And who could tie a fly
+like Sherebiah Minshull?  Many a time Harry had examined
+his rich store of materials—as varied as the contents
+of a witch's cauldron: feathers of every bird that flies,
+manifold silks and wires and hooks, wax and needles,
+hog's down and squirrel's fur.  Many a time had he
+watched him dress a fly and thread a bait, and admired
+his dexterous whipping of the streams.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What did I do wi' 'em?"  Sherebiah had sat down
+with legs far apart, and was carefully selecting a fly from
+his case.  He spoke always in a whisper.  "Well, 'tis
+ten year since, and my memory bean't what it was; but
+now I mind on't, I gi' one to Tom carrier for his
+lift, and a couple to miller up by Odbury, and one to
+Susan Poorgrass at Sir Godfrey's—I was a-courten then;
+her wouldn't ha' me, thank the Lord!—and a couple to
+Ned Greenhay, Sir Godfrey's keeper as was, for a brace
+o' leverets; and to please feyther o' mine I took three up
+to the Hall.  Zooks! and small thanks I got, for old
+Squire hisself come to the door, and gi' me a douse, he
+did; said if I didn't find summat better to do than go
+traipsen the country-side, poachen or wuss, he'd commit
+me for a rogue and vagabond.  An' th' old curmudgeon
+kept the fish; ay, he did so!—Ah! ha' got it; 'tis a fly
+that cost me more time in the maken than a dozen others;
+a beauty, to be sure; eh, Master Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He proceeded to put it on his hook.  It was an artificial
+oak-fly, blue, green, brown, and orange so cunningly
+mingled that no trout could fail to be deceived.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll now see some sport," continued Sherebiah, still
+in a whisper, as he prepared to cast.  "I can't abide
+bait-fishen; sport, i' faith! 'tis mere bludgeon-play.  True, it
+fills the pot, but there's no pleasure in 't.  'Tis no pastime
+for a true bob."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Sherry, 'twas only yestere'en I was reading in a
+most excellent book of angling by Master Izaak Walton,
+and he, it seems, held little to the fly.  His discourse is in
+the main of bait."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there 'tis.  I met Master Walton once, a-fishen
+in the Itchen above Winchester—a quaint man, with a
+good breast for a song, for all he was ripe for the grave.
+Myself I was but twenty or so, he a man of fourscore and
+upward; ay, a fine hale old man, wi' a store o' memories.
+We fell into talk; a' told me how a' once rid to Lunnon
+wi' a rich jewel o' King Charles's in his doublet; ay, he
+was a royal man, wi' a jolly red face, but no harm in un,
+not a whit; and learned, too—but no angler.  No, faith,
+no angler, for a' talked o' fishen down stream, a' did, when
+ne'er a child but knows fish lie wi' their heads up stream.
+Ye cotch fish as 'ee do Frenchmen, from behind!  Now,
+hook's ready.  Mum, Master Harry, while I cast."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped his fly deftly into the still pool, watching it
+with keen eyes and pursed lips.  Meanwhile Harry had
+chosen an orle fly, and made his cast a little lower down.
+The anglers were silent for some minutes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" asked Harry suddenly, looking up as
+a distant sound of wood-chopping reached his ears.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mum, boy!" whispered Sherebiah in reply.  "There,
+I beg pardon, Master Harry, but you've scared away a
+samlet just as he opened his jaws.  That?  'Tis Simon
+forester, belike, fellen Sir Godfrey's timber.  Now, a still
+tongue——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He broke off, rose, and followed his line stealthily for a
+yard or two.  The surface of the water was disturbed, and
+Harry caught a glimpse of a gleaming side.  There was
+a splash; the rod bent; then Sherebiah hastened his steps
+as the fish went away with a rush.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a-showen fight," whispered Sherry.  "Whoa! he's
+sounded, Master Harry; a big un.  Pray the tackle
+may hold!  Ah! he's clear, and off again!  Whoa! whoa!
+Nay, my pretty, 'ee may fight, but I'll land 'ee."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For ten minutes the contest continued; then the angler
+got in his line slowly, and beckoned to Harry to assist
+him.  The fish was carefully drawn in; Harry stooped
+with his net at the critical moment, and with a sudden
+heave landed a fine four-pounder, which he slipped into
+Sherebiah's creel.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the way on't, Master Harry," said Sherebiah
+contentedly.  "Had no luck yourself, eh?  What be 'ee
+a-fishen wi'?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An orle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, 'tis an hour or two too early in the day for that,
+mebbe.  Still, these waters of Sir Godfrey bean't often
+fished since young Master Godfrey went to Cambridge
+college, and the trout mayn't be over squeamish.  Stick
+to 't!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>An hour passed, and both anglers were well satisfied.
+Sherebiah's fly proved irresistible, either from its cunning
+make or the wary skill with which he whipped the stream.
+Four fat trout had joined the first in his basket; two had
+rewarded Harry's persistence; then he laid down his rod
+and watched with admiration the delicate casts of his
+companion.  Sherebiah landed his sixth.  The haze having
+now disappeared, and the sun growing hot, he wound up
+his line and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Rain afore seven, fine afore 'leven.  I be mortal
+peckish, Master Harry; what may 'ee have in your basket,
+now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Powdered beef, I think, Sherry; and Polly put in a
+cate or two and some radishes, and a bottle of cider;
+plain fare, you see."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, hunger's the best saace, I b'lieve.  We poor
+folks don't need to perk up our appetites.  I warrant,
+now, that mighty lord we saw yesterday would turn up his
+nose at powdered beef.  Fine kickshawses a' had at Sir
+Godfrey's, no doubt.  To think o' such a mighty lord, the
+Queen's purse-bearer an' all, bein' kept in a little small
+village by rust or dry-rot, just like a ordinary man!  Old
+Squire would ha' liked to gi' him a bed, I reckon; but Sir
+Godfrey were aforehand, an' there he lies till this mornen:
+axle was to be mended by six, if Lumpy had to work all
+night to finish the job.  Med I axe 'ee a question, Master
+Harry?  Do 'ee think that shinen piece a' flung to feyther
+were his own, or out o' Queen's purse?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Godolphin doesn't go about the country with
+the Queen's purse slung at his waist, Sherry.  What he
+meant was that he was Lord Treasurer, the Queen's chief
+minister, the man who rules the country, you know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now, if I didn't think it'd be folly to carry the
+Queen's purse loose about the country!  Then 'tis Lord
+Godolphin says we're to fight the French?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he and my lord Marlborough between them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! there 'tis.  My lord Marlborough bean't free
+with his money like t'other lord.  </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> wouldn't ha' given
+old feyther o' mine nothen.  Why, I was at Salisbury in
+'88 when my lord—Lord Churchill he was then, to be
+sure—was there to meet King Willum, and I held his horse
+for 'n, and he gi' me—what do 'ee think he gi' me,
+Master Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nowt but a smile!  What med 'ee think o' that for
+a lord?  'Thank 'ee, my man,' says he, and puts his foot
+in the stirrup and shows his teeth at me, and rides off!
+Lord!  Now t'other one, the Lord Godolphin, he is a lord,
+to be sure, a fine free-handed gentleman, though he ha'n't
+got such fine teeth.  I like a lord to be a lord, I do."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough is indeed rather close-fisted,
+they say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but I ha' knowed a wuss.  Did ever I tell 'ee of
+Jacob Spinney the potticary?  I was a growen lad, and
+feyther o' mine wanted to put me to a trade.  So he bound
+me prentice to Jacob Spinney, that kept a potticary's shop
+by Bargate at S'thampton.  Zooks!  Jacob was a deceiver,
+like his namesake in the Book.  A' promised feyther he'd
+gi' me good vittles and plenty on 'em, bein' a growen lad;
+but sakes, I never got no meat save at third boilen; 'twas
+like eatin' leather.  A' said I was growen too fast, a' did,
+and he'd keep me down.  Pudden—I never put my lips to
+pudden for two year, not once.  I took down shutters at
+zix i' the mornen, and put 'em up at eight o' nights;
+betwixt and between I was pounden away at drugs, and
+carryen parcels, and scrubben floors and nussen mistress'
+babby: ay, what med 'ee think o' that?  If so happened I
+broke a bottle, or overslept five minutes—oons! there was
+master a-strappen me to a hook in the wall he kept o'
+purpose, and layen a birch over my shoulders and keepen
+me on bread and water or turmuts not fit for a ox.  I
+dwindled crossways to a shadder, Master Harry, I did so,
+and every week th' old villain made me write a letter to
+feyther, sayen as how I was fat and flourishen like a green
+bay tree.  Do what a' would, however, I growed and
+growed, at fourteen a long slip of a feller all arms and
+legs.  Two mortal year I put up wi' un; then I got tired.
+One day, mistress was out, and I was rollen pills in the
+little back shop, when master come in.  He was in a
+terrible passion, goodness alone knows what about.  He
+pitched into me for wasten his drugs and eatin' up all his
+profits, and hit me with his cane, and sent me spinnen
+agen the table, and knocked off his best chiney mortar,
+and there 'twas on the floor, smashed to atomies.  Bein'
+his own doen, it made his temper wuss, it did, and he
+caught me by the hair and said he'd skin me.  I' fecks, I
+were always a man o' peace, even as a boy, but I'd had
+long sufferen enough, and now my peaceful blood was up.
+I wriggled myself free—and there he was, flat on the
+floor, and me a-sitten on him.  He hollered and cussed,
+for all he was a Puritan; and, haven respect unto my
+neighbours, I stuffed a handkercher into his mouth.  There
+I sits, a-thinken what to do wi' un.  'Twas in for a
+penny in for a pound wi' me then; I'd have to run,
+'dentures or no 'dentures, and it seemed fair to have my
+pen'orth afore I went.  There was that hook I knowed so
+well, and that strap hangen still and loose: 'I'll gi' un
+a taste o' the birch he be so uncommon fond on,' thinks I.
+So I hoists un up, and soon has un strapped ready; but
+looken at un I thinks to myself: 'You be a poor wamblen
+mortal arter all, skinny for all the pudden you eat.  I'll
+ha' mercy on your poor weak flesh.'  Besides, I had
+another notion.  So I casts un loose and sits un on a
+chair and straps un to chair-back, hands to sides.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You med have heard of Jacob Spinney's famous
+mixture for pimples?  Well, 'twas knowed all over Hants
+and Wilts.  'Twas a rare sight o' market days to see the
+farmers' wives a-troopen into the shop for bottles o' the
+mixture.  But th' odd thing was, Spinney hisself was
+owner of a fair pimpled face, yet never did I know un
+take a dose o' his own firm cure.  'I pity 'ee,' says I to
+un, as he sat strapped to the chair; 'poor feller, wi' all
+those pimples.  Shall have a dose, poor soul.'  Many's
+the bottle I'd made up: 'twas brimstone and powder o'
+crab and gentian root in syrup.  Well, I mixed a dose all
+fresh afore his eyes, and got a long wooden spoon, and
+slipped the handkercher out o' his mouth and the dose in.
+The ungrateful feller spets it out and begins to holler again;
+so in goes the handkercher, and says I: 'Ye don't know
+what's for your own good.  Bean't it tasty enough?  Ah,
+Master Spinney, often and often 'ee've physicked me;
+what's good for me without pudden will be better for
+'ee with; you shall have a dose.'  So I made un a dose
+o' senna and jalap and ipecacuan, but I was slow with
+the handkercher, and afore I could get the spoon in
+he had his teeth clinched tight.  But I hadn't nussed the
+babby for nothen.  I ups with finger and thumb and
+pinches his nose; he opens his mouth for breath, and
+in goes spoon, and sputter as he med he had to swaller,
+he did.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I was wild and headstrong in they young coltish
+days.  I bean't so fond o' pudden now.  Not but what
+they mixtures did Jacob Spinney a world o' good, for his
+next prentice had a easier time nor me, steppen into his
+master's business when he was laid in churchyard.  </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> got
+no good on 'em, to be sure, for I had to run away and try
+another line o' life, and ha' been a rollen-stone ever since.
+Ay well, 'tis all one to a man o' peace."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During his narrative the breakfast had been finished.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, when I'm out of sorts I'll come to you,"
+said Harry, rising.  "Now, while you pack up, I'll go
+a stroll up the hillside; there'll be a good view now the
+day is clearing, and maybe I'll get a glimpse of Salisbury
+spire."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He left the river-bank and strolled leisurely up a gentle
+ascent, which gradually became steeper until it terminated
+somewhat suddenly in a stretch of level ground.  Fifty
+yards from the edge rose a long grassy mound, a well-known
+landmark in the neighbourhood.  It was, in fact,
+a barrow, dating centuries back into the dim ages—the
+burial place, perhaps, of British warriors who had fought
+and fallen in defence of their country against the Roman
+invader.  Harry had always felt a romantic interest in
+these memorials of the past, and more than once had
+stood by such a barrow, alone in the moonlight of a summer
+night, while his imagination called up visions of far-off
+forgotten things.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down now with his back to the mound, and
+allowed his eyes to rove over the prospect.  Tradition
+said that three counties were visible from this elevated
+spot, and on a clear morning like this it seemed likely
+enough that report said true.  Far to the left, peeping
+over the bare contour of Harnham Hill, rose the graceful
+spire of Salisbury Cathedral, at least fifteen miles away
+as the crow flies.  His eye followed the winding course
+of the little stream below him, losing it here and there
+behind some copse or knoll, tracing it again to its junction
+with a larger stream, till this in its turn was lost to view
+amid the distant elm-bordered meadows.  Nearer at hand
+he saw the old Roman road, grass-grown and silent now,
+bounding the park of Sir Godfrey Fanshawe, crossing the
+stream by an ancient bridge, and running into the London
+road at some invisible point to the right.  It was a very
+pleasing prospect, brilliant beneath the cloudless sky, and
+freshened by the early morning showers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he looked along the forsaken highway, once trodden
+perhaps by the legions of Constantine the Great, his
+glance was momentarily arrested by a small moving speck
+in the distance.  "Some wagon from one of Sir Godfrey's
+home farms," he thought.  It was approaching him, for it
+passed out of sight into a clump of trees, then reappeared,
+and was again hidden by an intercepting ridge.  The road
+was downhill; in fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps, the
+wagon would pass beneath him, at a point nearly three-quarters
+of a mile away, where the highway skirted a belt
+of trees perched on the side of a steep declivity.  Between
+him and the road lay a ditch which, as he knew, was apt
+in winter-time to overflow on to the meadows and the
+lower parts of the track, making a sticky swamp of the
+chalky soil.  But it was dry now, and the floodings were
+only indicated by the more vivid green of the grass and
+the tall reeds that filled the hollow on this side.  On the
+other side a strong stone wall edged the road, marking
+the boundary of Sir Godfrey's park; it was overhung with
+elms, from which at this moment Harry saw a congregation
+of rooks soar away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus idly scanning the roadway, all at once his eye lit
+upon the figure of a horseman half concealed by the belt of
+reeds in the hollow.  He was motionless; his back was
+towards Harry, his horse's head pointing towards the
+road, from which he was completely screened by the reeds
+and the willows.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is he doing there?" thought Harry.  He rose,
+and walked towards the edge of the descent.  Narrowly
+scanning the brake, he now descried two other horsemen
+within a few yards of the first, but so well concealed that
+but for his quickened curiosity he would probably never
+have discovered them.  For all he knew, there might be
+others.  "What is their game?"  His suspicion was
+aroused; the vehicle he had seen approaching was perhaps
+not a wagon; it might be a chaise belonging to Sir
+Godfrey; it might be——  "Why, 'tis without a doubt Lord
+Godolphin himself on his way to London, and coming
+by the shortest cut."  There was no need for further
+speculation; in those days the inference was sure: a
+carriage in the distance, a party of horsemen lurking in
+a copse by the roadside——  "'Tis highway robbery—ah! the
+Queen's purse!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry unconsciously smiled at the thought.  His first
+impulse was to warn the approaching travellers.  But
+the carriage was at present out of sight; he could not
+make signals, and before he could reach the stretch of
+road between the ambuscade and their prey, the travellers
+would certainly be past, while he himself might be seen
+by the waiting horsemen, and headed off as he crossed
+a tract of open country.  Moving downwards all the time,
+he in a flash saw all that it was possible to do.  The
+stream passed under the roadway some twenty yards
+beyond the spot where the horsemen were lying in wait;
+the banks were reedy, and might screen an approach to
+the copse beyond the wall.  There was a bare chance, and
+Harry took it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He raced downhill towards Sherebiah, who was sitting
+on the bank still, placidly smoking his pipe; landscape had
+no charm for him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," said Harry in jerks, "Lord Godolphin or
+someone is driving down the road; highwaymen hiding
+in the reeds; in five or six minutes—come, come, we have
+no time to lose."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we'll go home along," said Sherry, putting his
+pipe in his pocket as he rose.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! we can't slink away and leave them to be
+robbed."  Harry took Sherry by the arm to drag him
+along.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What be the good?  Fishen-rods bean't no match
+for pistols, and bein' a man o' peace——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, I can't wait.  I'll go alone, then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He released the man's arm and stepped into the stream.
+Sherebiah hesitated for a moment; then, seeing that Harry
+was in earnest, he dropped his tackle and strode forward,
+saying:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks, not if I knows it!  I'm a man o' peace, sure
+enough, but fairplay's a jewel.  Have at the villains!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He followed Harry into the water.  Side by side they
+raced on, dodging the weeds, scrambling over occasional
+rocks, slipping on the chalky bottom, making at top speed
+for the bridge.  As they approached this they went more
+slowly, to avoid being heard.  Fortunately, at the point
+where the road crossed the stream there was a line of
+rocks, over which the water plunged with a rustle and
+clatter, drowning the sound of their footsteps.  They had
+to stoop low to avoid the moss-grown masonry of the
+arch; as they emerged on the farther side they heard a
+muffled exclamation from one of the horsemen, and climbing
+the steep face of the tree-covered slope towards the
+wall they heard a shot, then another, mingled with shouts
+and the dull thuds of horses' hoofs on the turf-covered
+road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On the way Harry had explained his plan in panting
+whispers.  Running along now under cover of the wall,
+they came opposite to the scene of the ambush.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Sherry, do your best," said Harry, as he
+prepared to mount the wall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly a new clamour was added to the uproar in the
+road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This way!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot 'em!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lash the noddy peaks!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pinch their thropples!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Quoit 'em down!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Haick!  haick!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry was on the wall, by favour of
+Sherebiah's strong arm.  A slug whizzed past his head and
+sank with a thud into the trunk of a tree just behind;
+next moment the horse-pistol from which it had been
+discharged followed the shot, the butt grazing Harry's
+brow.  There was no time to take in the details of the
+scene.  Harry made a spring for the masked horseman
+who had fired at him, two yards from the wall; but the
+fellow, alarmed by the various shouts and the sudden
+appearance of Sherebiah at Harry's side, dug the spurs
+into his steed's flanks and galloped off down the road,
+over the bridge, and out of sight.  One of his companions
+lay motionless on the road; the others had ridden away
+at the first alarm from the wall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry mopped his brow and looked about him.  Lord
+Godolphin stood upright in the carriage, his lips grimly
+set, a smoking pistol in his hand.  His son was on
+foot with drawn sword; a postilion was crawling out of
+the ditch all bemired, pale and trembling.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Odzooks!" cried my lord, "a welcome diversion!"</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 81%" id="figure-102">
+<span id="harry-makes-a-diversion"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Harry makes a Diversion" src="images/img-030.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Harry makes a Diversion</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was perfectly cool and collected, though his hat was
+off and his wig awry.  "A thousand thanks, my men.
+Whew! 'twas in the nick of time.  Where are the rest
+of you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There are no more, my lord," said Harry, lifting his
+cap.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No more!  But the shouts, then?—I heard a dozen
+shouting, at least.  Are the rest on the other side of the
+wall?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All on this side, my lord," said Harry with a smile.
+"Here is the mob."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He indicated Sherebiah, who touched his cap and bobbed
+to his lordship.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin stared, then chuckled and guffawed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad! 'tis a rare flam.  Frank, this fellow here did it
+all, shouted for a dozen; by George, 'twas a mighty neat
+trick!  And, by George, I know your face; I saw you
+yesterday, I believe!  What's your name, man?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherebiah Stand-up-and-bless Minshull, my lord," said
+Sherry, "by the water o' baptism, your honour, for I was
+born while old Rowley were in furren parts.  If a'd been
+born two year arter, my lord, I med ha' been chrisomed
+wi' less piety."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember you, and the old gaffer your father—a
+fine old fellow.  Well, my man, your name suits me
+better; 'tis for us to stand up and bless, eh, Frank?  And
+here's a guinea for you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah put his hands behind him and looked down at
+the coin in my lord's hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, my lord," he said slowly.  "True, I did the
+shouten, or most on't, but 'twas Master Harry his notion.
+Pa'son's son, you see, my lord; know'd all the holy story
+o' Gideon; says to me, 'Sherry,' says he, 'shout high and
+low, bass and tribble, give it tongue,' says he; and I gi'd
+it tongue, so I did."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Both gentlemen laughed heartily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I recognize you now," said my lord, turning to Harry,
+who looked somewhat embarrassed.  "Surely you are the
+hero of yesterday's cricket match?  You swing a straight
+bat, my lad, and, stap me! you've a quick wit if you
+devised this late surprise.  How came you on the scene?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We'd been fishing yonder, my lord, and I chanced to
+spy your carriage and the villains waiting here, almost at
+the same time.  It was clear what they were about, and as
+there was no time to warn you we came along the stream,
+and—Sherry shouted."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His smile as he said the last words met an answering
+smile on Lord Godolphin's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A mighty clever trick indeed—eh, Frank?  We're
+beholden to you.  'Twas a mere chance that I sent my
+mounted escort on ahead by the highway to arrange a
+change of horses, never thinking to be waylaid at this
+time o' day."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'twas the Queen's purse, my lord," struck in
+Sherebiah.  "To know Queen's purse-bearer were a-comen
+along old road like a common mortal, 'twere too much for
+poor weak flesh and blood."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The ignorant bumpkins mistook your meaning," said
+Frank.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So it appears.  But come, you're the parson's son, I
+believe.  I forget your name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry Rochester, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to be a parson yourself, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going up to Oxford in October, my lord; my
+father wishes me to take orders."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  And your own wish, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry hesitated.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, out with it, my lad."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I had thought, my lord, I should like to carry the
+Queen's colours; but 'tis a vain thought; my father's living
+is small, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And commissions in the Queen's army sell high.  'Tis
+so, indeed.  Well, I heard something of your father last
+night at Sir Godfrey's; you can't do better than follow his
+example.  And hark 'ee, if ever you want a friend, when
+you've taken your degrees, you know, come and see me;
+I owe you a good turn, my lad; and maybe I'll have a
+country vicarage at my disposal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, my lord!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And now we must get on.  Dickory, you coward,
+help these two friends of ours to remove that tree.  The
+villains laid their ambush well; you see they felled this
+larch at an awkward part of the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I thowt 'twas Simon forester a-choppen," said
+Sherebiah, as he walked towards the tree.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do with this ruffian on the road?"
+said Frank Godolphin.  "He appears to be stone dead.
+'Twas a good shot, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave the villain.  You'll lay an information before
+Sir Godfrey or another of your magistrates, young master
+parson.  Did you recognize any of the gang?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my lord.  I only saw the masked man.  Perhaps
+Sherry was more fortunate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me neither," said Sherebiah hastily.  He had
+gone to the fallen man, looked in his face, and turned
+him over.  "'Twas all too quick and sudden, and my
+eyes was nigh dazed wi' shouten."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, Sir Godfrey's is near at hand; go and
+inform him, and he will scour the country.  We must
+push on."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The tree was removed; the bedraggled and crestfallen
+postilions resumed their saddles, and with a parting salutation
+my lord drove off.  Harry stood looking thoughtfully
+after the departing carriage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry," said Sherebiah, coming up to him,
+"this be a bad business.  The man bean't dead."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He's saved for the hangman, then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and who med 'ee think he be?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You do know him, then!  What does this mean, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I be a man o' peace, and there's mischief to
+come o' this day's piece o' work, sure as I'm Sherebiah
+Stand-up-and-bless.  'Tis black John Simmons, Cap'n
+Aglionby's man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A scoundrel his master may well be rid of."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, if the man were dead!  But he be alive; the lord
+didn't shoot'n at all; 'a fell off his horse and bashed his
+nob; an' he's got a tongue, Master Harry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what then?  If he rounds on his fellows, so
+much the better.  What are you afraid of, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I bean't afeard, not I; but the Cap'n——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, and Harry looked at him enquiringly.
+Sherebiah turned away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! little sticks kindle fires, little sticks kindle fires,
+they do."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="master-and-man"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Master and Man</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Midnight Summons—A Warm Reception—Righteous
+Indignation—Aglionby Retorts—The Berkeley Arms—A
+Village Sensation—The Constable's
+Story—Aspersions—Unimpeachable
+References—Waylaid—Squaring Accounts—The Captain
+Rides Away</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The clock of St. Mary's church had just chimed the first
+quarter after midnight, and the deep note of the lowest
+bell was dying away over the tree-tops, when the
+sound was intercepted by the distant clink and clatter
+of iron-shod hoofs on the hard road, approaching from
+the direction of Salisbury.  The horse's pace was slow,
+and there was something in the fall of the hoofs that
+betokened a jaded steed.  It was a clear calm night;
+the air carried every sound distinctly; and nothing broke
+the stillness save the footfalls of the horse, an occasional
+murmur from the birds in the trees, and the whirr of
+wings as a solitary owl, disturbed by the nocturnal rider,
+left its search for food and rustled back to its nook in
+the tower.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The horseman came presently to the church, wheeled
+round to the right, and urged his flagging beast along
+the road leading to the manor house.  Arriving at the
+park, he flung himself from the saddle, hitched the bridle
+over his left arm, and turned the handle of the massive
+iron gate.  But there was no yielding to his push: the
+gate was locked.  The man shook and rattled the handle
+impatiently, to assure himself that he was not mistaken,
+then turned aside with an inarticulate rumble of anger,
+and went to the lodge, a low ivy-grown cottage abutting
+on the road.  He tapped on the small latticed window
+with the butt of his riding-whip; there was no reply.  The
+horse by his side hung its head and breathed heavily; it
+was jaded to the point of exhaustion.  Again he rapped
+on the glass, growling between his teeth; and when his
+summons still met with no response he dealt so smart
+a blow that one of the thick square panes fell in with a
+crash.  A moment later a voice was heard from within.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Away wi' 'ee!  Who be you, a-breaken an honest
+man's rest at this fearsome time o' night?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A night-capped head appeared at the hole, just visible
+in the faint illumination of the clear summer sky.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the gate, Dick," said the rider impatiently.
+"Ods my life, will you keep me waiting here, will you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be it you, Cap'n?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, man, must I tell you my name?  Ha' ye
+never seen me before!  Stir your old stumps, or by the
+lord Harry——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Squire give orders t' gate were to be locked and
+kep' locked; not a man to come in, not a soul.  They's
+my orders, ay sure, Cap'n."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Orders! orders!" cried the other in a burst of passion.
+"Adslidikins, if you're not at the gate with the key
+inside of two minutes I'll put a slug through your jolt
+head, you mumper, you miching rogue you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed Captain Aglionby displayed a monstrous
+blunderbuss, and pointed it full in the face of the scared
+lodge-keeper.  For an instant the man hesitated; then,
+muttering to himself, he disappeared from the window,
+and soon afterwards emerged from the side door within
+the palings, his night-gown showing beneath a heavy
+driving coat.  He came towards the gate with the
+key—a bent old man, tottering and mumbling.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall lose my place; Squire give orders, a' did, not
+a soul to come in; to drag a aged man from his nat'ral
+sleep an' lose him his place an' all; well, I was forced;
+no man can zay as I warn't forced; mumper as I be, I
+vallies my little bit o' life, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, you old flap-eared dotard, and
+make haste, or I'll pink your soul.  Don't you see the
+jade's dead-beat; 'tis time I stabled her."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man turned the key and slowly opened the gate.
+With a grunt the captain led his horse through, and,
+without so much as a glance at the lodge-keeper, proceeded
+up the quarter-mile drive leading to the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Old Nick's not abed," he said to himself as he cast
+his eye over the house front.  A light shone from a
+window in the turret over the porch.  "The old
+nightbird!  Lock me out!  Oons!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He threw the bridle over an iron post at the side of
+the entrance, and walked round a projecting wing of the
+building till he came to a small door in the wall.  He
+turned the iron ring, pushed, rattled; the door was fast
+shut.  Cursing under his breath, he was proceeding
+towards the servants' quarters when he heard the creak
+of a key turning, and, wheeling round, came to the postern
+just as it was opened by Squire Berkeley himself, his tall,
+lean, bent figure enwrapped from neck to heel in a black
+cassock-like garment, a skull-cap of black velvet covering
+his head.  He held a lighted candle; his piercing eyes
+flashed in the darkness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey, Squire!" cried the captain in a tone of forced
+good-humour, "I had much ado to rouse old Dick.  'Tis
+late to be sure; but if you'll give me the key of the stables
+I'll settle Jenny for the night and get to bed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He made as if to enter, but Mr. Berkeley spread himself
+across the narrow doorway.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sirrah," he said, "to break into my
+park against my express orders?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was contempt in his cold incisive tones, and
+anger with difficulty curbed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why now——" Aglionby began.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, I say?  And what am I, that my orders
+are defied, and my house made a common inn, a toping
+house for you and your toss-pot ruffians?  Go—go, I say!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain was for a moment staggered; the old man's
+manner left no room for doubt that he was in earnest.
+But Aglionby was too old a campaigner to cry off so
+easily.  In a tone half-conciliatory, half-aggrieved he
+said—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair and softly, Squire!  this is but scurvy treatment
+of a tired man.  Look you, I've been in the saddle this
+livelong day; the mare's well-nigh foundered; and for
+myself—gads so, I could eat an ox and drink a hogshead.
+To-morrow, in a few hours, I'll bid ye good-bye—for
+a time, if ye want a change; but to-night—no, Squire,
+'tis not hospitable of you, 'tis not indeed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You dally with me!" cried the squire, the hand that
+held the candle shaking with passion.  "You set no foot
+within this door—now, nor ever again.  Begone, while
+there is time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"While there is time!  Look ye, Master Berkeley, I
+will not brook insults from you.  Yesterday you must
+put an affront on me in the presence of my lord Godolphin,
+shoving me out of the way as I were a leper, and at the
+very moment, stap me! when I might ha' paid court to
+his lordship, and got the chance o' my life.  Adsbud, I
+was not good enough to approach my lord, to accost him,
+have speech with him——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An omission you have since repaired," interjected the
+old man with a meaning look.  The captain started, and
+there was a perceptible interval before he resumed, in a
+tone still more blusterous—</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ods my life, what mean you now?  You took care I
+should not meet my lord in your company; and, i' faith, he
+showed he wanted none of that neither."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your peace and begone!" cried the squire in a
+fury.  "You think I know nothing of your villainies?
+How many times have I harboured you—ay, saved you
+perchance from the gallows!  How many times have
+you eat my food, rid my horses, browbeat my servants,
+roistered it in my house, till I could bear with you no
+longer, and then betaken yourself to your evil practices
+abroad, consorted with villains, run your neck well-nigh
+into the hangman's noose, and then come back with
+contrite face and vows of amendment, to fawn and bluster
+and bully again?  Out upon you!  Your rapscallion of
+a servant is even now laid by the heels, and to-morrow
+will have to answer to the charge of waylaying the Lord
+Treasurer.  He's a white-livered oaf, and his tongue will
+wag, and you'll companion him before Fanshawe, and
+you'll swing on the same gibbet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the mention of his man's plight the captain's face
+had fallen; but when Mr. Berkeley's tirade was ended he
+broke into a laugh.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! ha!  Squire, now I come to understand you.  'Tis
+your own skin you have a care for!  Ha! ha!  I might
+have known it.  I am to be haled before Sir Godfrey,
+am I? and to hold my tongue, am I? and to be mum
+about certain little affairs in the life of Master Nicolas
+Berkeley—that paragon of virtue, that pampered, patched
+old interloper, am I?  By the lord Harry, if I stand in
+manacles before Sir Godfrey, you shall bear me company,
+you painted pasteboard of a saint!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Berkeley's pale face blanched with fury.  For a moment
+he was incapable of speech.  Then he stepped forward a
+pace; the hand holding the candle shook so, that the
+grease sputtered upon his gown.  His voice came in
+vehement passionate whispers:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You threaten me!  Do your worst—I defy you!—Back
+to your wallow, bully!—begone!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He suddenly withdrew within the doorway, slammed the
+door, and bolted it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Whew!" whistled the captain, left standing outside.
+"'Tis the worst passion ever I saw him in.  Defies me!
+Well, Master Nicolas, would I could afford to take you
+at your word!  A plague on Simmons!  I thought he
+was dead.  He'll split, sure enough, and there's an end of
+Ralph Aglionby.  Jenny, my dear, you're a sorry jade, but
+you'll have to bear my carcase till we're out of harm's way.
+We have five or six hours before the world's astir.  Do
+your best, my girl, and we'll cheat 'em yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby led his tired steed down the drive to
+the gate, roused Dick the lodge-keeper with scant
+ceremony, and in a few minutes was riding slowly towards
+the village.  As he came into the principal street, he was
+surprised to notice that the only inn was lit up, a most
+unusual circumstance at that time of night.  The door
+stood open, and there were lights in several of the
+rooms on the ground floor.  A feeling of apprehension
+seized upon him; he could not but connect these lively
+signs with the events of the morning, and especially with
+the capture of his man.  Could the fellow have blabbed
+already?  He was just making up his mind to spur the
+mare past the inn, over the bridge, on to the London road,
+when two persons came to the door and caught sight of
+him.  One was Mistress Joplady, the buxom hostess; the
+other William Nokes, the village constable.  It was too
+late to evade them: indeed he heard the hostess exclaim,
+"Well, I never! 'tis the Cap'n hisself, sure."  Resolving
+like a wise man to make the best of it, he rode up to the
+door, dismounted, and, swaggering, with his usual air of
+assurance said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, mistress, I'm glad to find you afoot.  My mare's
+dead-beat, has carried me nigh forty miles this day; send
+Tom ostler to stable her, like a good soul; and give me a
+bite and a bed.  I didn't care about disturbing the squire
+at this time o' night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain was no favourite with good Mistress Joplady,
+but she received him now with something more than her
+usual urbanity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come away in, Cap'n Aglionby," she said.  "Sure
+your name was in our very mouths.  Strange things be
+doing—ay, strange things in Winton Simmary; bean't it
+so, William Nokes?  Take the cap'n into the parlour,
+William; a few souls be there, Cap'n, not fit company for
+the likes o' you, to be sure, but they'll tell 'ee summat as'll
+stir your blood, they will so.  Tom'll see to Jenny, so be
+easy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby followed the constable into the parlour,
+where a group of the village worthies were assembled.
+They were neither smoking nor drinking, a sure sign that
+they had something momentous to talk about.  A silence
+fell upon the company as the captain clanked into the
+room, and one or two of the more active-minded of them
+threw a quick glance at each other, which the new-comer
+did not fail to note.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine night, men," said the captain jovially.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And a late hour to find the Berkeley Arms open."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis latish, sure enough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Any news from the army in Flanders?  A post from
+London, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, not 'zackly that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Odzooks! speak up, men," cried the captain
+impatiently.  "Why are they all mumble-chopped to-night,
+mistress?" he asked, turning to the hostess, who had
+followed him with bread and cheese and beer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, they be pondering strange things," returned
+Mrs. Joplady.  "Tell the cap'n all the long story, William
+Nokes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The constable, fingering the hat in his hand, looked for
+sympathy into the stolid faces of his fellows, cleared his
+throat, and began:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Cap'n, your sarvant.  Eight o'clock this mornin', or
+mebbe nine—'twixt eight and nine, if the truth was
+told—comes Long Tom from the Grange, Sir Godfrey's man, as
+ye med know, Cap'n.  Says he to me, 'Constable,' says he,
+'Sir Godfrey commands 'ee as a justice o' the peace to
+bring your staff and irons and other engines,' says he,
+'up along to Grange, wi'out remorse or delay, and arrest a
+prisoner in the Queen's name.'  You may think what a turn
+it gi' me, souls, so early in the mornin'.  'Be he voilent?'
+says I.  'Can I arrest the villain all alone by myself?'  'Ay
+sure,' says he; 'there's no knowin' what a tough job
+'twould be an he were sound and hearty, but he's dazed, so
+he be, wi' a crack in the nob, and won't give no trouble to
+no mortal constable, not a bit,' says he.  'A crack in the
+nob,' says he; didn't he, souls?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A murmur of assent came from the group.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So I ups and goos wi' Long Tom hotfoot to the
+Grange, and Tom he tells me by the way the longs and
+shorts on't.  Seems 'twas Sherry Minshull as cracked
+his nob, leastways he picked un up, he and young
+master pa'son betwixt 'em, an' hoisted him on a cart o'
+Farmer Leake's, an' so carried un to Grange and laid un
+afore Sir Godfrey.  'Twas highway robbery, Cap'n, a-took
+in the very act, a-stoppen the carriage o' the high lard as
+come this way yesterday, or day afore, as 'ee med say,
+seein' 'tis mornin' now by the rights on't.  And Sir Godfrey
+commits un, he do, dazed as he were wi' the crack in the
+nob, and hands un over to the law, and says, 'Constable,'
+says he, 'keep the knave fast in the lock-up, an' hold un
+till I gets word from my Lard Godolphin in Lun'on.'  They
+be his words, Cap'n."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, cut your story short, man.  Adsheart,
+ye've more words than matter."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but wait to th' end, wait to th' end," put in a
+voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The end of a rope 'twill be, and not for one neither,"
+added another.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The constable looked a little uncomfortable.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So I had un fast in the lock-up, Cap'n," he went on,
+"and 'twas the talk o' the village all day long.  Squire
+himself heard on't, and down he come, so he do, and
+bein' hisself a justice o' the peace he goos into the
+lock-up and zees the man, and axes un questions, not
+for my ears, me bein' a constable; nay, I stood guard
+at the door; and when Squire coom out he says to me,
+'Constable,' says he, 'keep a good guard on un; he
+deserves hangen, ay, and his mates too.'  Never seed I
+Squire so mad-like; 'twas 'cos it was a lard, maybe, and
+on his own ground, as 'ee med say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and nearer nor that," said a voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain put down the tankard from which he was
+quaffing, and glared round the faces.  They were blank
+as the wall behind them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And now what'll he say?" pursued the constable.  "He
+were mad afore, ay sure; now he'll ramp and roar worse
+nor the lion beast at Salisbury Fair.  Ye med not believe
+it, Cap'n, but 'tis true for all that; the godless villain ha'
+dared Squire an' Sir Godfrey an' me an' all; ha' broke his
+bonds an' stole away, like a thief i' the night, as the Book
+says."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried the captain, leaning forward and thumping
+the table.  "Escaped, has he?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A' has so, like a eel off the hook."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha! ha!  Stap me! eels are slippery things.  But
+'tis a rub for you, master constable.  You'll lose your
+place, i' faith, you will."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why now, it be no sin o' mine.  I left un snug in
+lock-up, I did, door double-locked and bar up, an' went
+to take my forty winks like a honest poor man; an' no
+sooner my back turned than out skips the pris'ner, like
+Simon Peter in the story.  There be witchcraft in't, an'
+that 'ee ought to know, Cap'n, seein' as the villain be
+your own sarvant."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, fellow?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sakes alive, I thowt as 'ee knowed that all the time!
+Sure 'twas John Simmons, your honour's own body-slave,
+so to speak.  An' I was main glad to see 'ee, Cap'n, 'cause
+now 'ee know un for what he is, 'ee'll help me to cotch
+un, in the Queen's name."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Knows where he be, I'll be bound," said one of the
+group in a low tone.  The captain sprang from his chair,
+ran round the table, and, before the speaker could defend
+himself, he caught him by the throat and hurled him to
+the floor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, loon!" he cried in a passion, "what do you
+mean?  Will you affront me, eh? will you mouth your
+cursed insults to my very face?  Odzooks, I'll slit your
+weazand, hound, and any man of you that dares a hint
+o' the sort, so 'ware all!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The men looked abashed and uncomfortable; the hostess
+was pale with apprehension, and the constable edged
+away from the irate captain.  His burst of passion
+over, he turned to Mrs. Joplady and spoke in quieter tones.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I brook no insolence, mistress.  I don't answer for
+my servant's deeds behind my back.  I've been away all
+day, as poor Jenny will bear me witness; was I to know
+my fool of a servant would play highwayman in my
+absence?  'Tis a useful fellow, civil, too, beyond most;
+I picked him up in London; he was in truth commended
+to me by no less than his grace the Duke of Ormond,
+who tapped me on the shoulder in the Piazza at Covent
+Garden, and said, 'Aglionby, my bawcock, you want a
+servant; I know the very man for you!'  Could I suspect
+a man after that?  How he got mixed up in this business
+beats me.  And as for helping master constable to repair
+his carelessness—adsbud, 'tis not likely.  The man in
+truth is no longer servant of mine.  I am on my way
+to serve the Queen in Flanders, and this very day
+arranged with my friend Sir Rupert Verney to take the
+fellow off my hands.  You may hang him, for me!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, Sam," said the hostess, turning to the
+man who had been felled, and was now at the door
+glowering; "your tongue runs away wi' 'ee.  Beg the
+cap'n's pardon, and don't go for to make a ninny o'
+yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind, my good woman," said Aglionby loftily.
+"The yokel knows no better.  Now, I'm tired out; give
+me a bed, good soul, for I must away at sunrise—and
+egad, 'tis past one o'clock!  Good-night to 'ee, men; and
+I hope Sir Godfrey will forgive you, constable."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He went from the room, and soon afterwards the hostess
+bade the villagers get to their beds, and closed the inn for
+the short remnant of the night.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Before seven o'clock next morning the captain was on
+horseback.  The ground was wet; it had been drizzling
+for several hours, but a misty sun was now struggling
+up the sky, and Tom ostler foretold a fine day.  The
+captain rode off, answering with a bold stare the
+suspicious and lowering glances of the few villagers who
+were on the spot.  He was in high spirits; the anxieties
+of the past night were gone; and as he rode he hummed
+a careless tune.  He had ridden but little more than a
+mile when, from an intersecting lane, a man stepped out
+and gripped the horse's reins.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Get off that there horse!" he said bluntly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gads so, Sherry, you gave me quite a turn," said the
+captain with unusual mildness.  "Don't hinder me, man;
+I'm off to Flanders, and, i' faith, that's where you ought to
+be yourself, if all was known.  Come, what's the meaning o't?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Get off that there horse!" repeated Sherebiah.  "I'm
+a man o' peace, I be, and I settles all scores prompt."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a look of determination in his eyes, and in his
+right hand he grasped a knobby cudgel.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Right! but we've no accounts to settle.—What!" he
+cried, as he saw Sherebiah's cudgel raised, "you play the
+bully, eh?  Gadzooks, I'll ferk ye if——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was drawing his sword, but the cudgel fell with a
+resounding whack upon his knuckles, and with a cry of
+pain he scrambled to the ground and stood, a picture of
+sullen rage, before his intercepter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll thank 'ee for your pistols," said Sherebiah,
+removing them from the holsters as he spoke.  "Nay, don't
+finger your sword; I be a man o' peace, and you know
+my play with the quarterstaff.  Jenny, old girl, crop your
+fill by the roadside while I have a reckonen wi' Cap'n
+Aglionby."  He laid a curious stress upon the title.  "Now,
+Ralph, you be comen wi' me into wood yonder.  'Tis there
+we'll settle our score."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Seizing the captain with his left hand, he led him down
+the lane, through a gap in the hedge, into a thin copse
+of larches, until he came to a narrow glade.  Aglionby
+assumed an air of jocular resignation; but that he was
+ill at ease was proved by the restless glances he gave
+Sherebiah out of the corner of his eye.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Off wi' your coat!" said Sherebiah, having reached
+the centre of the glade.  "Off wi't!  I be gwine to
+pound 'ee; you can defend yourself, but you'm gwine to
+be pounded whether or no."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound you, man, what have I done to you?  Why
+the——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Off wi't, off wi't!  Least said soonest mended.  Great
+barkers be no biters, so it do seem; doff your coat, Cap'n
+Aglionby!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you will!" cried the captain, with a burst of
+passion.  "I'll comb your noddle, I'll trounce you, for an
+insolent canting runagate booby!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He flung his coat on the wet grass; Sherebiah laid down
+the cudgel and followed his example.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Cap'n Aglionby!" he said.  "'Tis not, as
+'ee med say, a job to my liken, trouncen a big grown
+man like you; but 't ha' got to be done, for your good and
+my own peace o' mind.  So the sooner 'tis over the better."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>To a casual onlooker the two would have seemed very
+unequally matched.  The captain stood at least a head
+taller than his opponent, and was broad in proportion.
+But he was puffy and bloated; Sherebiah, on the other
+hand, though thick-set, was hard and agile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As if anxious to finish an uncongenial task with the least
+delay, he forced matters from the start.  The captain had
+no lack of bull-dog courage, and he still possessed the
+remnant of great physical strength.  To an ordinary
+opponent he would have proved even yet no mean antagonist;
+and when, after a few sharp exchanges, Sherebiah's
+punishing strokes roused him to fury, he rained upon the
+smaller man a storm of blows any one of which, had it got
+home, might have felled an ox.  But Sherebiah parried
+with easy skill, and continued to use his fists with
+mathematical precision.  Once or twice he allowed the captain,
+now panting and puffing, to regain his wind, and when
+the burly warrior showed a disposition to lengthen the
+interval he brought him back to the business in hand with
+a cheery summons.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Cap'n Aglionby," he would say, "let's to 't
+again.  Come, man, 'twill soon be over!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At last, beside himself with rage, the captain attempted
+to close with and throw his opponent.  He could scarcely
+have made a more unfortunate move.  For a few moments
+the two men swung and swayed; then Aglionby described
+a semicircle over Sherebiah's shoulder, and fell with a
+resounding thud to the ground.  Neither combatant was
+aware that for some time a spectator had been silently
+watching them.  Harry Rochester, coming whistling
+through the trees, had halted in surprise, at the edge
+of the glade, as his eyes took in the scene.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, 'tis over and done," said Sherebiah, stooping
+to pick up his coat.  "That score's wiped off.  Stand
+on your feet, man!  And I'll trouble 'ee for your sword."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain staggered to his feet.  He was in no
+condition to refuse the victor's demand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah took the weapon and broke it across his knee.
+From his own pocket he then took the captain's pistols.
+He carefully drew their charges, and handed them back.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, hie 'ee to Flanders," he said.  "You've done
+more fighten this mornin' than you'll ever do there.  You'll
+find Jenny on the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain glared at him, and seemed about to reply.
+But he thought better of it, and with a vindictive glare
+walked slowly away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What's it all about, Sherry?" said Harry, stepping
+forward when Aglionby had disappeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that be 'ee, sir?  'Twas only a little small matter
+o' difference 'twixt Cap'n Aglionby and me.  We're quits now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to get Mistress Joplady to give you a raw
+steak for your eye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, Cap'n did get in a hit or two," replied Sherebiah
+placidly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know you were such a fighter."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah gave him a quick look out of his uninjured eye.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, I bean't a fighter, not me," he said.  "I'm a man
+o' peace; I be so."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="mynheer-jan-grootz-and-another"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Mynheer Jan Grootz and Another</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Gaffer Chops Logic—In Print—The London
+Coach—Simple Annals—A Village Hampden—Bereft—An
+Offer of Service—A Hearty Send-off—Outside
+Passengers—Introductions—Contractor to the
+Forces—Followed—The Man on the Road—Sherebiah Muses</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a dull, damp day towards the end of November,
+a little more than four months after Captain Aglionby's
+unhappy departure from Winton St. Mary.  There was
+again great bustle at the Berkeley Arms; Mistress
+Joplady's ample face was red with exertion, and her voice,
+when she gave directions to her servants, was raised to
+an acrimonious pitch far from usual with her.  The whole
+village appeared to be gathered either within or without
+the inn.  Gaffer Minshull was there, seated with his back
+to the wall and leaning on his inseparable staff.  Lumpy,
+Soapy Dick, Long Robin the tanner, Old Everlasting the
+miller, stood in a group about the door, talking to the
+ostler, who stood guard, with arms akimbo, over four
+brimming pails of water ranged along the wall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soft Jemmy was standing a yard or two away, watching
+with open mouth a man who, straddling across a
+step-ladder, was smearing the ancient sign-board with
+daubs of black paint, obliterating every trace of the crude
+heraldic design that had marked the inn's connection with
+the lord of the manor.  When the board was one
+unbroken black, the painter descended the ladder with his
+brush and can, winked at Jemmy, and went into the inn
+to "mix the flavours", as he said in passing.  The
+half-witted youth contemplated his handiwork for some minutes
+in mild surprise; then he walked towards old Minshull
+and addressed him timorously:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gaffer, I'm afeard my poor yead won't stand the
+wonder on't, but it med do me good to know why John
+painter ha' covered that noble pictur wi' the colour o' sut."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, boy, black's for sorrow, as 'ee med know wi'out
+tellen an 'ee weren't so simple, and 'tis a black day for
+Winton Simmary, so 'tis."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why be it more black to-day than 'tis a-Sunday?"
+asked the youth.  "'Tis Tuesday, gaffer, bean't it? and
+new pa'son didn't holler it in church for a holy day."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy, your poor yead won't stand high things, 'tis true,
+but 'ee know young pa'son be off to Lun'on town to-day,
+an' that's why all the souls be here, to see the last on un."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Jemmy looked up again at the defaced sign-board,
+puzzling his poor brains to find some connection between
+it and the departure of "young pa'son".</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a shame, gaffer," said Honest John, "to deceive
+the poor lad, when you know the sign bean't painted out
+for no such thing."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there now," returned old Minshull, "bean't it
+all one?  I axe 'ee that, souls.  Young pa'son be a-gwine
+to Lun'on 'cause his poor feyther's dead an' gone; Pa'son
+Rochester be dead an' gone 'cause o' the fight; an I
+weren't afeard on un, I'd say the fight were all along o'
+Squire; and Mis'ess Joplady ha' changed the ancient sign
+of th' inn 'cause her can't abear to think on't.  Bean't that
+gospel truth, souls all?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The group looked impressed with the old man's logic.
+Mistress Joplady, coming for a moment to the door, had
+overheard his concluding sentences.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis true," she said, wiping away a tear.  "I never
+liked Squire; nobody never did as I ever heerd on; but
+when pa'son died I couldn't abear him.  One thing I'm
+thankful for from the bottom o' my heart, and that is,
+that my house is college property, like the church, and
+I can snap my vingers at Squire, and I do."  She suited
+the action to the word.  "Has been the Berkeley Arms
+for a hunnerd years, but 'twill be so no longer.  When
+paint's dry, up goos the yead o' Queen Annie, bless her! a
+poor soul as ha' lost all her childer, like myself, and
+the Queen's Head it'll be for ever more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, things be main different in village now, sure,"
+said Lumpy.  "To think what mighty changes come in
+a little time!  Zeems only a few days sin' young pa'son
+won that noble match—you mind, souls, the day the lord's
+carriage broke under the weight of the Queen's purse—ay,
+the day afore he were stopped in old road.  I never
+understood the rights o' that bit o' work.  Gaffer, hav 'ee got
+that printed paper ye read, where the Lun'on talk be given
+like the words of a book?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull slowly drew from his pocket a folded sheet,
+rather dirty, worn at the edges, and falling apart at the
+folds.  He opened it out with great care, and spread it
+on his knees.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's he," said Lumpy.  "Gaffer, you be a scholard;
+read it out loud to us again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, an' don't need spectacles neither," said Minshull
+proudly; "well, listen, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Very slowly, and with as much deliberation as though
+he were reading it for the first instead of the hundredth
+time, and moving his forefinger along the line, the old
+man began to read the account of the attempted robbery
+of Lord Godolphin which the </span><em class="italics">Daily Courant</em><span> presented to
+the London public a week after the event.  The names
+of the principal persons concerned appeared with a dash
+between the initial and final letters, and Godolphin's was
+read by Minshull as "Lard G line n".  After briefly
+relating the incident, the writer of the paragraph added:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis said the Prisoner that broke jail was a Servant of a
+Captain A——y, a Guest at that time of Esq. N——s B——y.
+The gallant Captain's Commission (as it is credibly reported) is
+not under the seal of her Gracious Majestie, or King William lately
+Deceas'd of Noble Memorie, but of the Czar of Muscovy.  'Tis
+vouch'd by some 'twas none other than the Great Cham."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, that's print," said Soapy Dick at the conclusion
+of the reading.  "The 'Cap'n A line y' was Cap'n
+Aglionby sure enough, an' some did zay as how 'twas
+he let the pris'ner out o' lock-up, and so brought shame
+to Will'm Nokes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, an' some did say as how the Cap'n hisself made
+one o' the cut-purse rogues as waylaid the lard," said
+Honest John.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Old wives' tales," said Minshull.  "My boy Sherry
+be wise for his years, an' he says Cap'n couldn't ha' let
+prisoner out, 'cause a' were miles away at the time.  And
+as for Cap'n bein' on the road—why, when Sir Godfrey
+coom in all the might o' the law to 'stablish the truth,
+Squire up and said as how Cap'n was abed and asleep on
+that early mornen when the deed was done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay true, Squire said so; but did a' take his dyin' oath
+like a common man?  Tell me that, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the conversation was interrupted, and
+the villagers were thrilled into excitement by the distant
+tootle of a horn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here be coach at last," cried the ostler.  "Ten minutes
+behind time, and no sign of young Master Rochester.  Giles
+coachman won't wait, not he."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But as the coach came in sight at a bend of the road,
+two figures were seen hastening along from the direction
+of the rectory.  One was a tall youthful form clad in
+black from his low felt hat to his buckle shoes.  His
+steinkirk was black, and its fringed ends were tucked
+into a black waistcoat.  Black were his plain drugget
+coat and breeches, black also his woollen stockings.
+Nothing redeemed the sable hue of his garments save
+his cambric shirt, the white front of which was much
+exposed, in the fashion of the time.  Harry Rochester's
+face was pale, its expression sad.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His companion, a head shorter than himself, was Sherebiah
+Minshull, clad in the sober brown of ordinary country
+wear, and trudging along steadily under the weight of
+a fair-sized valise.  Winter or summer, his appearance
+never varied: his firm round cheeks were always ruddy,
+his blue eyes always bright; and his expression, now as
+always, was that of placid self-content, well becoming "a
+man of peace".</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two drew nearer to the inn, where the group had
+by this time been enlarged by the accession of the greater
+part of the village population, women and children,
+workers and loafers, mingled in one interested throng.
+As Giles Appleyard was at that moment explaining to
+the passenger at his side, he had never seen such a crowd
+at Winton St. Mary before, though he had driven the
+coach, good weather and bad, for fifteen years come
+Christmas.  It reminded him of the crowd at Salisbury Fair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And seein' as how I've been laid up wi' a bad leg for
+two months," he added, "I'm behind the times, I be;
+news travels slow to them as don't drive coaches, and,
+i' feck, I know no more than the dead what this mortal
+big crowd do mean, i' feck I don't."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But many voices were ready to tell him when, having
+pulled up his four steaming horses at the inn door, he
+descended with grave deliberation from his perch, saluted
+Mistress Joplady with the gallantry of the road, and
+entered her house "to warm his nattlens", as he said,
+with a tankard of her home-brewed.  Young pa'son was
+a-gwine to Lun'on town!  It seemed a slight cause for such
+an unwonted scene; in reality it was a momentous event
+in the life of Harry Rochester and in the history of his
+village.  Small things bulk large in the imagination of
+rustic folk; a journey to London came within the
+experience of few of them; and the departure of young
+pa'son, following so closely upon two such notable events
+as the cricket match and the attack on the Lord High
+Treasurer, had already furnished unfailing material for
+gossip, and would be the theme of comment and
+speculation for a year to come.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was all along of old Squire, they said; and the coachman,
+for the first and only time in his career, delayed his
+departure for some minutes after the horses had been
+watered, in order to listen to the story.  A few days after
+Lord Godolphin's flying visit, Squire Berkeley had fenced
+in a piece of land which time out of mind had been
+regarded as part of the village common.  Old Gaffer
+Minshull, whose memory went back fifty years, was called up
+to tell how in the year '53, just before Christmas, the then
+parson had held a prayer-meeting on that very spot to
+celebrate the making of Noll Crum'ell Lord Protector;
+he remembered it well, for it lasted five hours, and old
+Jenny Bates fainted on the ground and took to her bed
+from that day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'twas a holy spot, an' Squire med ha' feared to
+touch un, as the old ancient folk feared to lay hands on
+the Lord's holy ark; but, bless 'ee, Squire bean't afeard
+o' nothen, nay, not o' the still small voice pa'son do zay be
+inside on us all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When the ground was fenced in the good parson was
+disposed to carry the matter to law.  But though he had
+already won one case (a matter of right of way) in the
+courts, the only result was that the squire had carried it
+to appeal, trusting in the power of the purse.  The angry
+villagers therefore determined to take the law into their
+own hands.  Without consulting the rector, they
+assembled one evening towards the end of October, and
+hastening in a body to the disputed space, began to make short
+work of the new fencing.  But the squire had got wind
+of their intention, by some witchcraft of his own, they
+believed: he soon appeared on the scene at the head of
+a gang of his own men.  There was a fight; heads were
+broken, and the squire's party were getting badly mauled
+when the rector suddenly arrived and rushed between the
+combatants.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, poor pa'son, I zee un now, I do," said Gaffer
+Minshull feelingly, "goen headlong into the rout wi' all
+his petticoats flyen!  A fine upstanden man was pa'son,
+as ought to ha' been a man o' war.  A' stood in the eye of
+Squire, an' Squire opened on un, gave tongue to a deal
+o' hot an' scorchen words, a' did.  But pa'son took no
+heed to'n, not he: he spoke up fair an' softly to Squire's
+men, and wi' that way o' his a' made 'em feel all fashly
+like; a' had a won'erful way wi' 'n, had pa'son; an' they
+made off wi' their broken heads, they did; an' Squire was
+left a-frothen an' cussen as he were a heathen Frenchman
+or Turk.  Ah, poor pa'son!  Such a fine sperit as he had,
+his frame were not built for 't; wi' my own aged eyes I
+seed un go blue at the lips, and a' put his hand on his
+bosom, a' did, an' seemed as if all the breath was blowed
+out of his mortal body; and a' went home-along a stricken
+soul, and two days arter his weak heart busted, an' young
+pa'son had no feyther—ay, poor soul, no feyther, an' my
+boy Sherebiah be nigh varty-vour, and here I be.  'Tis
+strange ways Them above has wi' poor weak mortals—strange
+ways, ay sure!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley took advantage of the rector's death to
+pay off old scores.  The legal actions which Mr. Rochester
+had taken, on behalf of his flock, collapsed for want of
+further funds; he had already seriously impoverished
+himself by his open-hearted generosity; and when the squire
+came down on the dead man's estate for the law costs,
+Harry found that, after all debts were paid, he was
+possessed of some twenty guineas in all wherewith to start life.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His project of going to Oxford was necessarily
+abandoned.  He was at a loss to find a career.  Educated by
+his father with a view to entering the Church, he was
+fairly well grounded in classics and mathematics, and had
+in addition a good acquaintance with French, and a great
+stock of English poetry; but his knowledge was not
+marketable.  He was too young for a tutor's place, and
+had no influence to back him; friendless and homeless, he
+was at his wits' end.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then one day he bethought him of Lord Godolphin's
+promise.  It had been frank and apparently sincere.  My
+lord, it was true, had spoken of a country benefice when
+Harry's Oxford days were over; but Harry reflected that
+the slight service he had rendered was not likely to appear
+greater with the lapse of time, while his need was actual
+and urgent.  Why not take the Lord Treasurer at his
+word, journey to London, and put his case before the man
+who, in all the kingdom, was the most able to help him
+if he would?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He mentioned the matter to Gaffer Minshull, rather
+expecting that the sturdy veteran would pour cold water
+on his idea.  To his surprise the old man urged him to
+carry it out, and overbore the objections which every
+high-spirited lad, even in those days of patronage, must
+have had to soliciting favours from the great.  His
+eagerness was partially explained to Harry when the old fellow
+added a suggestion of his own.  He was seriously
+concerned about his boy Sherebiah.  In spite of strict
+injunctions to have nothing to do with the expedition against
+the squire's fencing, Sherebiah, man of peace as he was,
+had been attracted to the scene as a moth to a candle.  At
+first he had watched events from a distance, among other
+interested spectators; but when he saw the fight at its
+beginning go against the villagers, owing to the superior
+training of the squire's men, many of whom were old
+soldiers, he could contain himself no longer.  At the head
+of the waverers he dashed into the affray, and set such an
+example of valour that it would have gone hardly with the
+enemy but for the opportune arrival of the rector.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>From that moment Sherebiah was a marked man.
+Whatever reasons the father had for fearing Mr. Berkeley
+were strengthened when it became evident that the squire
+had marked and would resent the son's action.  Sherebiah
+had been doing no good in the village since he suddenly
+returned to it, from no one knew where, a few years
+before.  His father was anxious that he should go away
+for a time, at least until the squire's anger had cooled.
+He welcomed the opportunity afforded by the approaching
+departure of Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let un goo wi' 'ee," he said.  "'Tis a knowen boy,
+handy, with a head full o' wise things he's larned in the
+world.  He'd be proud to sarve 'ee, ay, that he would."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But, gaffer, I can't afford a servant.  Twenty guineas
+are all I have, and I know not what may happen.  If Lord
+Godolphin fails me, my money will soon be gone, and then
+there'll be two poor fellows instead of one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never fear.  I bean't afeard for 'ee.  And what does
+the Book say?  Why, 'twas the holy King David as said
+it hisself: 'Once I were young,' says he, 'and now I be
+old; but never ha' I knowed the righteous forsaken, nor
+his seed a-beggen bread neither.'  That's what he said,
+and he knowed a thing or two, so he did."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he didn't know everything, gaffer.  Well,
+you're set on it, I see.  Sherry would certainly be better
+out of the squire's way; so he can come with me, and as
+soon as I find something to do he had better look for
+employment, and London ought to be a good place for that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it happened that, on this November morning, the
+two passengers who had booked places in the Salisbury
+coach for London were Harry Rochester and Sherebiah
+Minshull.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The story took a long time in the telling in the parlour
+of the inn, and Giles Appleyard was somewhat perturbed
+when he saw by the big clock in the corner that his
+departure was overdue.  He drained his tankard, wiped his
+mouth with the back of his hand, and went out, calling
+loudly to the passengers to take their places.  Harry
+shook hands all round; every man had something to say
+to him that was intended to be pleasant and encouraging,
+but was in many cases the reverse.  His heart was full as
+he thought of leaving the good folk among whom he had
+lived and whose kindly feeling for him was so evident.
+When, last of all, Mistress Joplady flung her arms round
+his neck and hugged him to her ample bosom, and then
+wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, he felt a lump
+in his throat, and was glad to escape and mount to his
+place on the roof of the coach.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Bill?" shouted the coachman over his shoulder.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let goo, ostler."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And gathering up the reins he cracked his whip, and
+with a clatter and rumble the heavy vehicle, amid a
+volley of cheers, lurched forward on the way to London.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The journey of nearly seventy miles was not likely to
+be pleasant.  The stage-coaches of those days were large
+and clumsy structures, with hard springs.  The inside
+passengers were jolted and jostled; the outside
+passengers had no proper seats, but found what sitting room
+they could among the packages and bundles.  On this
+morning, there was only one other passenger on the roof
+of the coach, a stout broad-faced man dressed in brown
+clothes much like Sherebiah's.  He had retained his seat
+during the scene of farewell, and sat solemnly munching
+a thick sausage, scanning the crowd out of shrewd little
+twinkling eyes that seemed a size too small for the other
+features.  When his sausage was finished, he filled a
+huge pipe and sat puffing in stolid silence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For some time after the coach started, no word was
+spoken by the three passengers.  Harry was wrapt in his
+thoughts, brooding over the past, dreaming about the
+future.  Sherebiah had lit his pipe as soon as he was
+settled, and smoked on contentedly, stealing a glance
+every now and then at the broad figure separated from
+him by a large travelling trunk.  He seemed to find some
+amusement in these occasional peeps at his neighbour,
+who by and by returned his glance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mizzly mornen," said Sherebiah, with a nod.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo," grunted the other.  His eyes were resting on
+Sherebiah's pipe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tobacco be a great comfort," said the latter, noting the
+look.  "Master Harry there, he bean't come to 't yet; true,
+'tis not for babes an' sucklens; but I took to 'bacca when
+Susan wouldn't take me, and 'tis better nor any wife."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where you get dat pipe?" asked the stranger, in a
+slow pleasant voice with a foreign accent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This pipe!  Why, over in Amesbury; see, 'tis marked
+wi' the gauntlet, sure token of a Amesbury pipe, an' there's
+no better in the land.  Why med 'ee axe such a feelen
+question, now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Once I zaw a pipe like it, wid de mark on it—de
+gauntlet, you zay."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  I say, master, what part o' the land med 'ee
+hail from?  Your tongue makes me think 'ee med be a
+Dutchman, though I wouldn't say so to your face."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked at his interrogator without replying.
+He stuffed the tobacco down into his pipe with a fat
+forefinger which exactly fitted the bowl.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You know Amsterdam, my vrient?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha' been there, mynheer; so 'tis Amsterdam you hail
+from!  Well, I ha' been in wuss places.  Ay, ha' seed
+summat o' the world, I have, and I knowed 'ee by your
+cut for a Dutchman."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence again for a space.  Both the men
+sat smoking, heedless of all things around them.  They
+finished their pipes at the same moment, and, moved by
+a mutual impulse, each handed his pouch to the other.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Virginia," said Sherebiah laconically.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Barbados," returned the other.  "My name, Jan
+Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And it becomes 'ee," said Sherebiah.  "Now mine
+bean't so good a match; 'tis over long for one o' my
+inches, and over proud for a man so meek: Sherebiah
+Stand-up-and-bless Minshull in the church book, but plain
+Sherry to them as I takes to, like young pa'son there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was roused from his reverie at hearing himself
+mentioned.  He looked for the first time at his
+fellow-passenger, who at that moment lifted his podgy right
+hand and pointed to a windmill in full sail a little distance
+from the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, minds 'ee of home; your country's full of
+mills, to be sure.  Mebbe you be a miller, now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman waited to blow a great cloud from
+his mouth before he answered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A sailor," he said; "but I have mills."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A skipper," rejoined Sherry, looking over his costume.
+"'Tis not for me to say, but to mortal eye you be more like
+a varmer.—'Tis a skipper from Holland," he added,
+including Harry in the conversation, "that has a mill or
+two to his name and smokes 'bacca out o' Barbados."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Jan Grootz," said the Dutchman.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry acknowledged the introduction, and remarked
+on the slowness of their progress over the rough road.
+On this Mynheer Grootz volunteered the remark that,
+having come all the way from Bristol, he would be glad
+when the journey was ended.  By degrees he became still
+more communicative; and when the coach pulled up at
+Basingstoke for the mid-day meal, Harry had learnt that
+the Dutchman had been to Bristol to inspect a vessel of
+which he was part-owner, and which had come most
+fortunately to port after being first knocked about by a
+French privateer, then badly damaged by a storm.  It
+was to the storm that she owed her escape from the
+Frenchman, and to her captain's seamanship her escape
+from the storm.  Grootz was particularly gratified at her
+safe arrival, for she represented a large amount not only
+to him personally, but to others who could ill afford to
+lose on a venture upon which he had persuaded them to
+embark.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When the journey was resumed, the conversation
+became still more friendly.  Harry liked the look of the
+Dutchman.  His broad face with its wide nose and little
+eyes was not handsome, but its expression inspired
+confidence; and the careful slowness of his speech, and his
+habit of pointing with his forefinger when he wished to
+be emphatic, were a little amusing.  He asked no
+questions, but Harry by and by found himself explaining his
+own position and relating the events that had led to it,
+and told him of his projected visit to Lord Godolphin.  At
+this up came the forefinger.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my young vrient, you are de son of a minister:
+ver' well: you know de good Book: ver' well: 'Put not
+your drust in princes;' de words are drue.  I tell you dis;
+besides my mills and my ships, I do oder dings; I supply
+food for de men and horses of de English and Dutch
+armies; and I have met princes; yes—I, Jan Grootz.  I
+tell you dis; wid a good honest merchant of London or
+of Amsterdam, I care not, man knows where he stand;
+his foot is on de solid rock; but wid dukes and grand-dukes
+and oder princes—ah! man tread a quicksand.  Dey
+promise, but do dey pay?  You are good boy, I dink; mind
+you, I do not say I know, for outside do not always speak
+drue; de apple may be red, and all de time a maggot at
+core.  I tell you dis; seven year ago I make contract over
+hay wid young captain of Bavarian Elector; it was in
+Namur campaign; he look good, he speak good, I am
+well content; but donder! my hay I lose, and 3242 thalers
+3 groschen beside.  Dis den I tell you; avoid arms and
+de law, drive some honest trade: zo you respect yourself,
+and oder people dey respect you.  You owe noding;
+nobody owe you; you are a man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Ever since the departure from Basingstoke, Sherebiah,
+sitting just behind Harry, had taken no part in the
+conversation, but appeared to find something curiously
+interesting in the road behind, for after once or twice
+looking over his shoulder he at last faced round altogether,
+and sat with his back to the horses.  Just as the Dutchman
+finished his speech—the longest to which he had yet given
+utterance, and one that his slow delivery lengthened
+beyond its natural extent—Sherebiah turned round, tapped
+Harry on the shoulder, and in a low tone said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Summat's i' the wind."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Wind yourself about and look down the road behind."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I see nothing—stay, there's a horseman just
+topping the hill, a good mile behind us: what of that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, 'tis like this.  He always is a mile behind:
+that's where 'tis.  I seed him afore we come to
+Basingstoke; but he didn't come to the inn to eat his vittles,
+not he.  I seed him again when we was a mile this side
+o' Basingstoke; what had he been doen, then, while we
+eat and drank?  We stop, he falls behind; when we trot,
+he trots; 'tis as if he were a bob at th' end of a line, never
+nearer never vurther."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You think we are being followed?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I do think, sure enough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A highwayman?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, mebbe not; most like not, for 'tis not dark
+enough, and he's always in sight."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he thinks he can't be seen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not reckonen on the height of the coach roof?  But I
+seed him, I did, two hours an' more agoo."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should he follow the coach, I wonder?  He may
+belong to someone inside."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, mebbe not; 'tis curious anyways."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the fellow is clearly dogging the coach; if your
+curiosity troubles you, suppose you slip off a mile before
+we reach the next post-house and try to get a nearer look
+at him as he passes?  You can catch up the coach while
+they change horses."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I will, sure.  We be nigh the river now; over the
+bridge and we come to Hounslow heath, a fearsome place
+for highwaymen.  We change at the Bull and Gate, then
+run straight into Lun'on: oh, I know the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was late in the afternoon by the time the coach
+reached the inn where the last change of the journey was
+made.  Ten minutes before, Sherebiah nimbly slipped down,
+crept through a gap in the hedge, and waited for the
+pursuer to appear.  Presently he heard the clatter of hoofs;
+the sound grew louder, but all at once began to diminish.
+Scrambling back into the road, he was just in time to see
+the horseman strike off at full speed along a by-road to his
+left, which led, as Sherebiah knew, to London by a course
+only a mile or two longer than the main highway.  The
+man must evidently have changed his horse somewhere on
+the road, and could only have taken the detour in a desire
+to arrive in London ahead of the coach.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah stared long and earnestly at the retreating
+figure.  He frowned and looked puzzled as he set off to
+overtake the coach.  The driver was mounting the box as
+he came up.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what do you make of it?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He be gone off by a side road," replied Sherebiah.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So your curiosity is not to be satisfied after all?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he rid away hard to the left, wi' his back towards
+me, an' 'tis growen duskish, an' nowt but a owl could see
+clear."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But when Sherebiah clambered to his place he wore a
+sober look which did not escape the clear little eyes of
+Jan Grootz, who silently extended his pouch to him.
+Sherebiah refilled and puffed away, every now and then
+removing the pipe from his mouth and staring
+contemplatively at the bowl.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-message-from-the-squire"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Message from the Squire</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Old White Hart—A Letter for the
+Captain—Visions—Aglionby gives Instructions—The
+Watch—Half-Truths—Ways and Means—Hard Thinking</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Sherebiah sat very silent for the rest of the journey.  The
+coach jolted on rapidly towards the great city: passed the
+market-gardens of Hammersmith, the open fields of
+Kensington, along Piccadilly, where the first street-lamps shed
+a dim oily light, through Holborn, at last pulling up at the
+Angel and Crown in Threadneedle Street.  It was past
+nine o'clock, dull and murky, and few people were about.
+But a small crowd was gathered at the door of the inn
+to meet the coach, and Sherebiah, as he shouldered the
+luggage and moved towards the door, shot a keen but
+unobtrusive glance at the faces of the men.  His
+movements were somewhat too slow for Harry, who, eager to
+ease his limbs after a whole day's stiffness and discomfort,
+entered the hostelry first.  All at once Sherebiah quickened
+his step, hastened into the lobby, set the luggage down at
+the foot of the stairs, and then, making a mumbled excuse
+to Harry, slipped out behind one of the inn servants, and
+looked narrowly at the diminishing crowd.  He was just
+in time to see a man, whom he had already noticed on the
+outskirts of the group, saunter away in the direction of
+London Bridge.  Appearances are deceptive, and Sherebiah
+was not sure that he was right, but he thought the
+man bore a resemblance to the rider whom he had seen
+following the coach, and of whom he had caught one
+nearer glimpse as he turned into the by-road.  He followed
+the man, stepping as quietly as his heavy shoes allowed,
+accommodating his pace to that of the man in front, and
+taking advantage of the shadow afforded by the penthouse
+fronts of the closed shops.  The man quickened his steps
+as he approached the bridge.  Sherebiah pursued him at a
+discreet distance over the narrow roadway, beneath the
+rickety four-story houses that towered above the bridge
+over almost its entire length, through Traitor's Gate, and
+on into Southwark.  The man went along one narrow street,
+and at last passed under a low archway.  Walking even
+more stealthily, Sherebiah still followed, and found himself
+in the spacious yard of the Old White Hart Inn.  This
+famous three-storied hostelry was built about three sides
+of a square.  Along two sides of the upper story ran a
+balustraded gallery, with wooden pillars supporting the
+sloping roof.  All was quiet.  Sherebiah, keeping in the
+shadow of the arch, peeped round and saw the man he
+followed standing at the door waiting for an answer to his
+summons at the bell, which hung on the outer wall under
+a gabled cover.  After a little time the door opened and
+the porter appeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be Cap'n Aglionby within?" said the man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and abed and asleep.  What do you want wi' him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see un."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty time o' night!  House was shut up an hour
+ago—no business doin' these hard times.  Why didn't you
+come sooner?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A good reason, 'cause I be only just come to Lun'on.
+I has a message for Cap'n Aglionby."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, needs must, I s'pose," grumbled the servant.
+"I'll go up and wake the captain, and be cursed horrible
+for my pains.  Who shall I say wants him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell un a friend from the country."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The porter went into the inn, and soon reappeared in the
+gallery at the top of the house, where he tapped at the
+door of one of the bedrooms opening from it.  He tapped
+once, twice, thrice, and received no answer; then to his
+fourth knock came a response the tone of which, though
+not the words, could be heard in the yard below.  A colloquy
+ensued, of which only the share of the inn servant was
+distinctly audible to Sherebiah.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A man from the country, Cap'n, to see you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mumble from within.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So I told him, but here he bides."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>More mumbling.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't tell me his name; a man from the country was
+all he said, and I knows no more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The answering mumble was of higher and impatient
+mood.  Then the man came slowly downstairs, grumbling
+under his breath all the way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're to go up," he said to the stranger.  "'Tis
+number thirty-two.  And fine tantrums he be in, waked
+out of sleep; as if I ain't waked out of sleep or kept
+from it day and night, and all year long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man entered the inn after the servant, and began to
+ascend.  Sherebiah meanwhile, looking around, had espied
+another stairway at the opposite angle of the courtyard.
+Darting across on tiptoe, he mounted quickly, quietly,
+and reached the gallery above in time to see the
+messenger disappear into the captain's room.  He hurried
+along, and, relying on the porter's complaint of the paucity
+of business, he opened the door of the adjacent room and
+slipped in, leaving the door ajar.  Through the thin
+partition he heard the murmur of voices in the next room, but
+could not catch a word distinctly.  In a few moments,
+however, there was a crash as of a chair being overthrown,
+followed by a torrent of execrations from the captain.
+Then the door of the next room opened, and Aglionby
+came out on to the gallery accompanied by his visitor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang you and the squire too!" said the angry warrior.
+"The tinder's wet, and I can't light my candle.  Give me
+the letter and I'll read it by the light of the lantern yonder,
+and catch my death o' cold withal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Shrinking back into the darkness of his room, Sherebiah
+caught sight of Captain Aglionby as he passed the half-open
+door on his way to the single lantern that feebly lit up
+the gallery.  He had pulled on his breeches and stockings,
+but for the rest was in night attire.  The lantern swung
+from a hook at the corner of the gallery, three rooms
+beyond that into which Sherebiah had ventured.  Standing
+beneath it, the captain broke the seal of the letter
+given him by the visitor, and read rapidly under his
+breath.  The reading finished, he stuffed the paper into
+his pocket and chuckled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stap me, he begs and prays me now!" he exclaimed.
+"See, Jock, tell me what ye know of this.  Ye ha'n't read
+the letter, ha' ye?  By the Lord Harry, I'll slit—"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, Cap'n," interrupted the man; "I know
+nought o' the letter.  I'll tell 'ee how it all come about.
+I was openen the gate for Squire, when—"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak lower, man; your brazen throat'll wake the house."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was openen the gate for Squire," resumed the fellow
+in a lower tone, which was, however, still audible to
+Sherebiah's straining ears, "when who should come by but
+young master popinjay dressed all in his black.  He never
+bobbed to Squire, not he; never so much as cast eyes on
+un; but when Squire saw the young swaggerer he stopped
+still as a stone, and looked after un dazed like.  Then he
+put his arm on the gate, a' did, and leant heavy on it,
+thinken mortal hard; 'twas a matter o' five minutes afore
+he lifted his head again, and never seed I a stranger look
+on any man's face than I seed then on Squire's.  A' jumped
+when his eyes fell on me; 'What be staren at, fool?' says
+he, in one of his rages.  'Shall I run for doctor?' says I;
+'you do look mortal bad.'  'Nay,' says he, ''tis nothen; a
+little faintness; 'twill pass.'  I touched my cap, as becomes
+me, and Squire went into park and shut gate behind un.
+But a' hadn't walked more nor three steps when a' stops,
+swings about, and 'Jock!' says he, 'order post-horses for
+Hungerford road to-morrer.  And come up to hall inside
+of an hour; I shall ha' a job for 'ee.'</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I went up to hall after I'd ordered horses, and
+Squire give me this letter.  'You'll ride to Lun'on
+to-morrer, and take this letter to Cap'n Aglionby at White
+Hart, South'ark.  And you'll tell the cap'n where young
+Master Rochester be stayen.'  'How'll I know that,
+Squire?' says I.  'Pon that he burst into one of his terr'ble
+rages again.  'How, fool!' says he; 'why, keep the coach
+in sight, and see that 'ee make no mistake.'  So here I be,
+Cap'n, and young Master Rochester he's at Angel and
+Crown in Threadneedle Street."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, Jock; I know the house.  And is the
+young springald alone?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he; has Sherry Minshull with un, a-carryen his
+belongens."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds and thunder! did Sherry see you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, i' feck; I kept too far from coach to be seen for
+sarten, and at Angel and Crown Sherry was too heavy
+laden to spy me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well for you, well for you!  Jock, you'll come and
+take up your quarters here; there's plenty of room.  I'll
+tell 'em to gi' ye a bed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the horse, Cap'n?  I left un at Angel
+and Crown."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let him bide till morning; then you can bring him
+here too."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But Squire, Cap'n,—won't he expect us back, me and
+horse?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he; 'tis here written; I'm to keep you if there's
+any work for you, and odzooks!  I'll ha' some work for you,
+never fear.  Jock, if your story has made you as dry as
+it has made me you're main thirsty; go down and bring
+up beer for two, and a lighted candle.  I'll ring and wake
+that rascal by the time you get to the foot of the stairs."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man went down by the way he had come, and the
+captain returned to his room.  As soon as the coast was
+clear, Sherebiah slipped out into the gallery, carrying his
+shoes to avoid noise, ran down the outer staircase, stood
+for a few moments at the foot to make sure that all was
+safe, then darted across the yard and out at the gate.  The
+street was quite deserted, and Sherebiah, secure from
+molestation, walked slowly along towards London Bridge,
+deep in thought.  His friend Harry had been followed to
+London at the orders of the squire; what was the meaning
+of that?  Surely Mr. Berkeley did not intend to wreak
+vengeance on the son for the baffled opposition of the
+father?  What had Captain Aglionby to do with the
+matter?  Rumour the omniscient had informed the village
+that the captain's departure had been occasioned by a
+violent quarrel with the squire; yet it was plain that the
+squire knew the captain's whereabouts and was enlisting
+his aid in some project.  Sherebiah wished that he could
+get a sight of Mr. Berkeley's letter; he was puzzled to
+account for the old man's shock as Harry passed the gate;
+but try as he might to piece these strange circumstances
+together, all his cogitation suggested no clue.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>So absorbed was he, so mechanical his movements, that
+he started convulsively when, just as he had passed through
+Traitor's Gate, a man stepped suddenly before him from
+a narrow entry and bade him stop in the Queen's name.
+Looking up, he saw that his way was barred by a corpulent
+constable in cocked hat and laced coat, with a staff
+two feet longer than himself, and half a dozen ancient and
+decrepit watchmen with lanterns and staves.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand!" cried the constable.  "Give an account of
+yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah took his measure.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, neither, master constable.  Out o' my way;
+'tis a late hour, and I ought to be abed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He made to move on, but the constable stood full in his
+path, and the watchmen grouped themselves behind their
+superior.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You may be a villain for aught I know," said the
+constable, "or even a vagrom or thief.  Why abroad
+at this hour o' night?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm as sober as a judge," replied Sherebiah, "and
+neither thief nor vagrom.  Stand aside, master constable."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis dry and thirsty work watching o' nights,
+and there be seven of us, and a shilling don't go far in
+these war times; we'll take a shilling to let ye pass;
+eh, men?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The watchmen mumbled assent.  Sherebiah laughed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A shilling?  'Tis a free country, master constable,
+and a sober countryman don't carry shillings to buy what's
+his.  And seems to me, so it does, as ye've had drink
+enough a'ready; out o' my way, I say!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Arrest him, men!" cried the constable, angry at being
+disappointed of his expected tip.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The words were scarcely out of his mouth when with
+sudden energy Sherebiah threw himself against him, at the
+same time placing a leg behind his knee.  As the constable
+fell, Sherebiah dashed at the watchmen, toppled two of
+them over, their fall being accompanied by the crash of
+their lanterns, scattered the rest, and ran rapidly across
+the bridge.  This unexpected onset from one whom they
+had taken for a simple and timid country bumpkin was
+too much for the watch.  They made no attempt to pursue
+the fugitive, but returned surly and crestfallen to their lair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where on earth have you been, Sherry?" asked Harry,
+as his man re-entered the inn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Payen a visit to a cousin o' mine, Master Harry.
+And I was nigh put in lock-up, I was.  Was stopped by
+the watch, but I toppled un over, I did.  I'm a man o'
+peace."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If you are let alone," said Harry, laughing.  "I feared
+some harm had happened to you.  Our Dutch friend tells
+me London is an ill place at night for a stranger."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and by day too, Master Harry," rejoined Sherebiah
+earnestly.  "If I med make so bold, I'd say, get 'ee
+to-morrow a good cane,—none of your little small
+amber-tipt fancies as fine gentlemen swing in their dainty
+fingers, but a stout length of oak or birch, fit to crack
+a pate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a sword, Sherry, and can use it, thanks to you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but 'tis not always easy to draw a sword in time
+in a street brawl, and there be light-fingered gentry as can
+coax a sword from the scabbard and the wearer none the
+wiser till it be too late.  Be it your poor feyther's sword
+you ha' brought, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the silver-hilted one; I showed it you once, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis right for a gentleman to wear a sword,
+though I marvel, I do, at a holy man o' peace like pa'son
+haven such a deadly piece o' furniture."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and I've often wondered how a man of peace like
+yourself is able to handle a sword so well.  You made
+a swordsman of me, Sherry; how did you become one
+yourself?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, sir, 'tis a many things a man o' peace has to know
+in the way o' dressens.  I believe in peace with a cudgel
+in your hand.  Them as wants peace be most like to get
+it an they be ready for war."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You remind me of what Master Butler says:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>'There's but the twinkling of a star</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Betwixt the man of peace and war'.</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>But the hour is late, Sherry, and I must be up betimes in
+the morning, for my visit to Lord Godolphin."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You bean't gwine to see the high lard to-morrer, sir?
+Better larn to find your way about this tangle o' busy
+streets first.  'Tis as easy as sucken eggs to lose your
+way."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have made up my mind to go to-morrow.  You see,
+I must lose no time.  I have only twenty guineas, as you
+know, and by to-morrow two of those will be gone.  And
+I sha'n't rest till I have tried my luck.  Good-night, Sherry!
+Wake me at seven."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Left to himself, Sherebiah ordered a pint of small beer,
+and sat for an hour longer, ruminating, with knit brows
+and compressed lips.  More than once he got up and
+walked round the deal table, stopping to take a pull at
+the tankard, heaving a sigh, then going on again.  He
+was disquieted.  The sudden discovery that the squire's
+animosity was pursuing Harry no less perplexed than
+disturbed him.  Harry and Mr. Berkeley had never met
+at close quarters; there had been no intercourse between
+hall and parsonage.  A personal cause of offence was, as
+it seemed to Sherebiah, out of the question; yet it was
+strange that the squire's hatred of the father should
+extend to the son.  At length, muttering "No one can tell
+what's what with the likes o' old Squire,"  Sherebiah
+brought his big fist down on to the table with a bang
+that made the pewter jump and rattle, and fetched the
+drawer from his place in the bar.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What d'ye lack?" said the man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothen, sonny, nothen.  'Tis a way o' mine to hit out
+when I be a-thinken, a bold way for a man o' peace, true.
+Bacon at half arter seven, drawer,—and we be country
+eaters, mind 'ee.  Good-night!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="my-lord-marlborough-makes-a-note"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">My Lord Marlborough makes a Note</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">London Streets—A Chair!—A Great Man's Portals—An
+Effort of Memory—Patronage—Marlborough—A Step in
+the Peerage—A Memorandum—A Friend in London—A
+Dinner at Locket's—Mr. Colley Cibber—Great
+Expectations—A Thick Stick—Prevarication</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry was awake long before Sherebiah tapped at his
+door next morning.  His projected visit to Lord Godolphin
+gave him some concern.  He had no tremors of shyness
+at the thought of meeting the Lord Treasurer; but,
+ignorant as he was of London ways, he knew not how to
+time his visit, and could hope for no counsel on that point
+from Sherebiah.  He was too much excited to do justice
+to the crisp rashers which were placed before him at the
+breakfast-table, and felt little disposed to converse with
+Jan Grootz the Dutchman opposite.  Sherebiah had taken
+upon himself to wait at table, but, as a privileged servitor,
+did not think it unbecoming to throw in a word here and
+there.  He gave Grootz his views on the price of oats and
+the policy of King Louis of France with equal assurance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Know ye where de lord live?" asked the Dutchman suddenly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had forgotten that he had mentioned his errand
+to his fellow-passenger, and for the moment repented his
+confidence.  Before he could reply, Grootz went on:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He live over against the Queen's Wood Yard, by
+Thames-side, leading to Scotland Yard.  My vrient John
+Evelyn built de house.  I have been dere."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed Harry.  "Then can you tell me the
+best time to visit him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja!  De best time, it is ten o'clock, before he go to de
+palace.  He rise late; he has many visitors; I zee him
+myself in his dressing-gown before his zervant have curled
+his wig, and I wait my turn two hours.  And when you
+zee him, you zall lose no time; he like man to speak out,
+mark you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman spoke very slowly, not interrupting his
+meal, and wagging his fat finger as he concluded.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And how shall I go?  Shall I walk?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I' feck, no," said Sherebiah from behind.  "The night
+have been rainy, and the streets be mushed wi' mud;
+you'd be spattered from head to heel, Master Harry.
+Nay; you med walk as far as the Exchange and buy 'ee
+a pair o' gloves there for seemliness, and then get your
+shoes brushed by one o' the blackguards at the corner.
+Then you can take a chair; 'tis a shilling a mile, and easier
+goen nor the hackneys, for the chairmen walk on the
+pavement, and you won't get jolted nor splashed so bad."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, and I tell you dis," added the Dutchman.  "Short
+poles, and short men; zo, dey take not zo much room,
+and if dey upzet you, why, you do not fall zo much."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and don't let 'em chouse 'ee out o' more than their
+due," said Sherebiah.  "I know they men.  If they think
+a man be up from country, they look at un and then at
+the shilling, up and down, and miscall un wi' such brazen
+tongues that he'll pay anything to save his ears.  A shilling
+a mile, Master Harry, no more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!  De counsel is good.  But I give you a better:
+go not at all.  Lords!  I tell you dis before: an honest
+merchant is worth two, dree, no man zay how many
+lords; and de Book zay, 'Put not your drust in princes'.
+Still, I wish you good luck, my young vrient, Jan
+Grootz; zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He squeezed Harry's hand in his own great fist, and
+then, having demolished his mountain of food, filled his
+pipe and set forth for the Custom House on Thames bank.
+Two hours later, Harry left the inn under Sherebiah's
+guidance, and for the first time in his life trod the streets of
+London.  Filled though his mind was with the approaching
+interview, which might mean so much to him, he was
+yet able to take an interest in the strange scenes that
+opened before his inexperienced eyes: the brilliant shops,
+each with its sign of painted copper, pewter, or wood
+hanging from iron branches; the taverns and
+coffee-houses, already crowded with people eager to hear and
+discuss the news, and perhaps to get a peep at the
+morning's </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>; the court and porticoes of the Royal
+Exchange, to which merchants were flocking; the crowds
+of money-dealers in Change Alley, looking for clients.  He
+went up to the gallery on the first floor of the Exchange,
+and bought a pair of gloves from a neat and pretty girl at
+one of the booths; then strolled along, admiring the rich
+and dazzling display of silks and jewellery which a few
+hours later would attract all the fine ladies in town.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Descending to the street again, he passed up Cheapside
+and through St. Paul's Churchyard, down Ludgate Hill
+and through Ludgate, where he beheld impaled on stakes
+a row of hideous heads of traitors, one of which, Sherebiah
+told him with indignation, was that of Noll Crum'ell.
+Then skirting the Fleet Ditch, once navigable, but now a
+noisome slimy sewer, he came into Fleet Street, through
+Temple Bar to the Strand, and at length arrived at Charing
+Cross, where he was nearly overturned by a hasty
+chair-man, whose "By your leave!" was not yet familiar to his
+ears.  At Charing Cross stood a number of boys with
+boxes before them on the pavement, and cries of "Clean
+your shoes!" "London fucus!" "Best Spanish blacking!"
+came in eager competing tones.  Sherebiah selected one
+whose stand was in front of a barber's shop.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's the blackguard for 'ee, Master Harry," he said.
+"He'll shine your shoes while barber shaves my stubble.
+A penny; no more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When the shoes were polished and the stubble mown,
+Sherebiah called up a couple of chairmen who were sitting
+on their poles near by.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do 'ee know my Lord Godolphin's noble house?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; servant, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, carry my young master to that very house,
+and see 'ee don't jolt 'n, or drop 'n, or let 'n get splashed.
+'Tis under a mile, Master Harry," he whispered at parting.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry would rather have walked.  The men took what
+care they could, but the press of people was so great that
+they had to dodge at every few steps, and their fare
+gripped the seat to prevent himself from being knocked
+against first one side, then the other, of the conveyance.
+At the corner of Whitehall, as they turned into Scotland
+Yard, a passing dray splashed up a shower of liquid mud,
+and Harry felt a moist dab upon his nose.  Fortunately
+the spot was soon removed with his handkerchief; and
+when, after crossing by the Charcoal House and through
+the Wood Yard, the chairmen at length set him down at
+the door of Godolphin's house, he would have felt no
+anxiety about his personal appearance, if he had been
+sufficiently self-conscious to think about it.  He had put
+on his best coat, silk stockings, and buckle shoes; at his
+side he wore the sword about which he had spoken to
+Sherebiah.  He sprang alertly up the steps, and looked
+about him with a keen quick gaze that bespoke a definite
+purpose.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The great entrance-hall was thronged.  Servants, officers,
+government officials, men about town, stood in groups or
+moved here and there in pursuit of their several objects
+of business or pleasure.  No one appeared to remark the
+presence of the new-comer, who walked quietly through
+the throng towards the broad staircase.  At the foot a
+gorgeously-dressed flunkey was standing, to whom one
+or two gentlemen had already applied for information.
+As Harry was about to address him, his attention was
+attracted by a woolly-pated wide-grinning black boy, who
+at that moment ran down the stairs.  He carried a silver
+tray, on which a cup and jug of fine porcelain jingled as
+he ran.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Done, Sambo?" asked the tall flunkey at the stair-foot.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yussir!" replied the boy with a white grin.  "My lord
+jolly dis mornin; oh yes; drink him chocolate without one
+cuss.  Gwine to begin work now; oh yes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I see the Lord Godolphin?" asked Harry, stepping
+up to the servant as Sambo disappeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man gave Harry a stare, but answered respectfully:
+"My lord's levee is over, sir.  The nigger brings down
+the tray when the last visitor has gone."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come specially to see my lord, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you an appointment, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I think if you will take my name to my lord he will
+see me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry spoke quietly; he was determined not to be turned
+from his purpose by mere formality or red tape.  The man
+eyeing him saw nothing but self-possession and confidence
+in his air.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord is now engaged with his correspondence," he
+said.  "He does not brook interruption."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Harry Rochester; I will answer for it
+that you will do no wrong in acquainting his lordship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After a moment's hesitation the man beckoned to a
+fellow-servant, and gave him Harry's message.  He went
+upstairs, and returning in a few minutes said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is your business with my lord, sir?  His lordship
+does not remember your name."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was the suggestion of a sneer in the man's voice.
+With hardly a perceptible pause Harry replied:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell his lordship I am from Winton St. Mary, at his
+invitation."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A faint smile curled the lips of the two flunkeys.  The
+second again mounted the stairs.  When he descended, his
+face wore its usual expression of deference and respect.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be so good as to wait upon his lordship," he said, and
+led the way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes Harry found himself, hat in hand,
+making his bow to Lord Godolphin in a large wainscoted
+apartment.  Four large candles burnt upon the mantel-piece,
+daylight being kept out by the heavy curtains on
+either side of the narrow window.  A huge log fire filled
+the chimney-place; beyond it stood a broad table littered
+with papers, which at that moment a young man was
+sorting by the light of a shaded candle.  Lord Godolphin
+was in dressing-gown and slippers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Rochester, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am aware of that.  I do not recall it.  Well?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>My lord's tone was cold and uninviting.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship will permit me to mention a little
+incident on the Roman road by Sir Godfrey Fanshawe's
+park, when——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, I remember now.  You are the lad they called
+the young parson, eh?  I have a poor head for names.
+When my man spoke of Winton St. Mary I supposed you
+might be a messenger from the gentleman who
+entertained us there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now that Harry was actually face to face with the
+Lord Treasurer, he felt some diffidence in opening the
+subject of his visit.  My lord, in spite of his deshabille,
+seemed far less approachable than he had been on the
+old Roman road.  Then he was the country sportsman;
+now he was the chief minister of the Queen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your shouting friend with the scriptural name—how
+is he?" he asked in a somewhat more cordial tone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is well, my lord; he is with me in London."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And your father: has he won his case against the
+squire?  I heard something of him at Sir Godfrey
+Fanshawe's, I think."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My father is dead, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!  Pray accept my condolences.  And now, tell
+me what brings you here."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your lordship may remember, after the scene with
+the highwaymen——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; you did me a service, you and your man;
+what then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It was but a slight service, my lord; I do not presume
+on it; but you were so good as to say that if, at some
+future time, I should find myself in need of assistance,
+I was to come to your lordship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I did speak of a country parsonage, I believe.
+But you,"—he smiled—"why, I really may not venture to
+set you up in a cure of souls.  You have to take your
+degrees yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is impossible, my lord.  My father impoverished
+himself in his feuds with Mr. Berkeley; when his affairs
+were settled I found myself possessed of but a poor twenty
+guineas.  I have given up all thought of going to Oxford;
+I must seek a livelihood."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Godolphin looked him up and down, as though
+estimating his chances of making his way in the world.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You wear a sword," he said.  "Rochester—you are
+no connection of the earl's?—no, of course not, he is a
+Wilmot.  Where do you spring from?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandfather was a soldier, my lord; I have heard
+that he died young, but my father seldom spoke of these
+matters; we have no relatives."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm!  I bethink me now, you yourself have an itch
+for martial life.  All boys have, I suppose.  Young Lord
+Churchill was cut to the heart a few months ago because
+my lady Marlborough would not permit him to follow his
+father to Flanders.  Well, to be frank with you, I see no
+way of helping you.  With twenty guineas you can no
+more buy a commission than you can enter yourself at
+a college.  To enlist as a common soldier would be a last
+resource to one of your breeding.  There are too many
+young scions of good stocks for the lesser places at court
+to go round among them.  Yet I would fain do something
+for you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He began to saunter up and down the room, his hands
+clasped behind him, stopping for a moment to listen as the
+sound of cheers came from the street.  Suddenly the door
+was opened, and the voice of the servant was heard
+announcing a visitor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked with eager curiosity as the great soldier
+entered the room.  He saw a tall, singularly handsome
+man, with short curved upper lip, firm chin, long
+almond-shaped eyes, and a calm benignity of expression.  John
+Churchill, Earl of Marlborough, was at this time fifty-two
+years of age.  As captain-general of the English forces,
+in the summer of this year, 1702, he had opened in
+concert with the Dutch a campaign in Flanders against
+Louis the Fourteenth of France,—a new campaign in the
+great war of the Spanish Succession which the policy of
+William the Third had bequeathed to his sister-in-law.
+Venloo and other towns had been captured by the
+confederate armies, Liège had been reduced, and the forces
+having gone into winter quarters, Marlborough had
+returned to England to support the Occasional Conformity
+Bill.  He was a close personal friend of Godolphin, and
+allied to him by the marriage of Francis Godolphin to his
+daughter Henrietta.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome, my dear lord!" said Godolphin, starting
+forward to meet the earl.  "I did not know you had
+arrived."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am but just come from waiting on the Queen," said
+Marlborough.  "I arrived late last night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are welcome indeed.  All men's mouths are full
+of your praises."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay," returned Marlborough with a smile; "your
+Londoners have lusty throats.  And I have a piece of
+news for you."  He dropped his voice: the secretary had
+vanished through a further door: Harry stood in a
+quandary, the noblemen both seeming to ignore his presence.
+"The Queen has been pleased to express her wish to
+make me a duke."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin laid his hand on his friend's arm, and said
+cordially: "I congratulate you, Jack, with all my heart.
+Why, this very morning I have a letter from Churchill at
+Cambridge; there are shrewd wits there; he says 'tis
+whispered you are to be raised in the peerage, and the
+boy, young dog, begs me to tell him what his own title
+will be then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! 'tis over soon to talk of it.  I must acquaint my
+lady first, and methinks she will object."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stap me, Jack! 'tis few women would hesitate to
+exchange countess for duchess.—God bless me, I'd forgotten
+the boy!  My lord, this is the hero of the little adventure
+at Winton St. Mary I writ you of.  'Twas he that
+inspired the stout fellow to shout, and scared the
+highwaymen out of their five wits."</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 84%" id="figure-103">
+<span id="my-lord-marlborough"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="My Lord Marlborough" src="images/img-080.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">My Lord Marlborough</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough looked towards Harry, who flushed and
+bowed.  An idea seemed to strike Godolphin.  Linking
+his arm with the earl's, he led him slowly to the other
+end of the room, and stood there talking earnestly to him
+in tones too low for Harry to catch a word.  Once or
+twice both glanced at the tall youthful figure standing
+in some natural embarrassment near the door.  Once
+Marlborough shook his head and frowned, upon which
+Godolphin took him by a button of his laced coat and
+spoke more earnestly than before.  At length Marlborough
+smiled, laid a hand on Godolphin's shoulder, and spoke a
+few words in his ear.  Then he turned about, and coming
+slowly towards Harry, said, in his clear bell-like tones:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Godolphin tells me you have lost your father
+and are all but penniless.  'Tis an unfortunate situation
+for a lad of your years.  You would serve the Queen?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have a quick wit, my lord says.  I may make
+some use of you.  Write your name on a piece of paper,
+and the name of your lodging."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Godolphin motioned him to the table, where he found
+paper and a pencil.  He wrote his name and the name of
+his inn, and handed the paper to Marlborough, who said,
+as he folded it and placed it in his pocket:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will send for you, Master Rochester, if I can serve you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord, I am much beholden to you—" began Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough interrupted him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my lord Godolphin you should thank for his good word."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Faith, my lord," said Godolphin, "'tis due to Master
+Rochester that the Queen is served by her present Lord
+Treasurer.  I am glad, my lad, that my friend Lord
+Marlborough chanced to come upon us here, and I hope
+you will have reason to be glad also.  Now, you will
+excuse us; we have matters of state to speak of; I wish
+you well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry murmured his thanks and bowed himself out.
+His nerves were a-tingle with his unexpected good fortune.
+To have seen and spoken with the greatest man in the
+kingdom was itself an unforeseen privilege; and the
+prospect of assistance from such a powerful and august
+personage filled him with elation.  The earl had shown
+no great cordiality, it was true; but Harry was inclined
+to draw good augury from the few words he had uttered.
+They were probably more sincere than a warm volubility
+would have been.  He left the house with a sparkling eye
+and a springy gait, and looked eagerly around to see if
+Sherebiah were near at hand to hear his news.  But
+Sherebiah was nowhere to be seen.  Having no particular
+business, now that his great errand was accomplished, Harry
+walked through Whitehall into St. James's Park, in the
+hope that he might catch a glimpse of Queen Anne herself.
+The guard had just been changed at St. James's Palace,
+and a stream of people met him as he strolled along the
+Mall.  He was interested in watching them—the fine ladies
+with their hoops and patches, the beaux with their
+many-coloured coats, canes dangling at their buttons, toothpicks
+between their teeth, and snuff-boxes in frequent use.  So
+absorbed was he that he was startled when all at once a
+hand struck him a hearty blow on the shoulder, and a
+voice exclaimed:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey, Harry, what make you, ogling the ladies?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He turned and saw his friend Godfrey Fanshawe, the
+captain of the cricket team to whose victory he had so
+much contributed.  The two young fellows shook hands
+heartily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What brings you to London?" continued Fanshawe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come in search of fortune, like Dick Whittington.
+You heard of my father's death?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but nothing since.  They seldom write letters at home."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry then explained the course of events which had
+brought him to London, concluding with his recent
+interview with Marlborough and Godolphin.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, man!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "you're in luck's
+way indeed.  Would that I stood so well with the two
+greatest men in England.  My lord Marlborough will
+gazette you an ensign of foot or a cornet of horse; and
+my cornetcy, I may tell you, cost my father a pretty
+penny.  What luck, Harry, if we make the next campaign
+together!  The earl will surely go back to Flanders when
+the winter is over."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like nothing better."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you staying?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At the Angel and Crown, in Threadneedle Street."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You must leave that and come westward.  Are you alone?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry Minshull is with me at present; but he'll get
+work for himself as soon as I am settled."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry's a handy fellow; egad, I know no better!
+He'll tie a fly with any man, and is as good with sword
+or quarterstaff as he is with his fists.  Well now, 'tis
+drawing towards dinner-time; come and dine with me;
+the people of fashion here dine at four, but I stick to
+country habits.  We'll go to Locket's at Charing Cross;
+you're my guest to-day.  And we'll go to the play this
+evening; the first time, I warrant you, you've seen a play.
+Come!  I stand well with the people at Locket's, and the
+sharp air this morning has given me an appetite."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was but five minutes' walk to Locket's tavern.  Entering,
+Fanshawe bowed with elaborate courtesy to the fair
+dame in charge, and called for the card.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There's boiled beef and carrots, I see, and a goose,
+and look, a calf's head.  I adore calf's head.  What say
+you?  Yes?  Boy, bring calf's head for two, and quickly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>With calf's head and cabbage and a wedge of Cheshire
+cheese, the two young fellows appeased their unjaded
+appetites.  Fanshawe sat for some time finishing his
+bottle of wine, Harry contenting himself with small beer.
+Then, as there still remained a few hours to while away
+before theatre time, Fanshawe proposed a row on the
+river.  Harry eagerly assented; they sallied forth, took
+boat at Westminster stairs and rowed up to Chelsea,
+returning to Westminster in time for the performance
+of Mr. Colley Cibber's new play, "She would and she
+would not", by Her Majesty's Servants at Drury Lane.
+Harry was delighted with his first visit to the theatre.
+He was tickled at the unabashed impertinence of
+Trappanti the discarded servant, played by Mr. Penkethman,
+one of the best comedians in London, as Fanshawe
+informed him; and fell in love with Hypolita the heroine,
+a part which suited Mrs. Mountford to perfection.  But
+he was perhaps most interested in Mr. Colley Cibber
+himself, who played the part of Don Manuel the irascible
+father.  His pleasure was complete when, after the
+performance, Fanshawe took him to the Bull's Head tavern,
+and showed him Mr. Cibber with his paint washed off,
+surrounded by a circle of actors, soldiers, lords, and even
+clergymen.  He had never seen an author before.  Mr. Cibber
+had no presence to boast of, with his thick legs,
+lean face, and sandy hair; but the liveliness of his
+conversation gave him a sort of pre-eminence among his
+coterie, and made a considerable impression on a youth
+ready to admire and wonder at anything.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe appeared quite at home among the company.
+He was indeed a frequent visitor at the Bull's Head after
+the play, where all were welcome on condition of providing
+their quota towards the general hilarity.  Fanshawe was
+the lucky possessor of a fine baritone voice, and his spirited
+singing of west-country songs had won him instant popularity.
+On this night, in response to the usual call, he began—</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me thy grey mare,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>For I want for to go to Widdicombe Fair,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Dan Whiddon, Harry Hawk,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Old uncle Tom Cobleigh, and all";</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>and by the time he reached the end of the third of the
+eight stanzas, the whole company were ready to join him
+in trolling the chorus,</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"Old uncle Tom Cobleigh and all".</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>It was late when Harry reached the Angel and Crown.
+Sherebiah was marching up and down before the tavern,
+blowing great clouds from his pipe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey now, Master Harry," he said, with an expression
+of mingled wrath and relief; "'tis a mighty scurvy trick
+you have played me, i' feck 'tis so.  Here we are, your
+second day in London, and you must go off along by your
+lone self on who knows what errand o' foolery.  Ay, 'tis
+strong words for me, and a man o' peace and all, but
+not too strong, seee'n as I knows the wicked ways o' the
+town and you be unfledged.  Zooks, sir, I've been in a
+terrible way, thinken all manner of awsome an' gashly
+things, as how you med ha' been trepanned, or slit by
+the Scourers, or trampled by some high lard's horses, or
+rifled and beat by footpads, or 'ticed into a dicing den by
+sweetners always on the look-out for a country gudgeon,
+or——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold, Sherry, you forget yourself," said Harry, who
+was, however, not displeased to find the honest fellow so
+solicitous about him.  "In truth, I forgot all about you.
+I can take care of myself, I think.  I dined with Mr. Godfrey
+Fanshawe, whom I chanced to meet, and we went to
+the play afterwards, and I never laughed so much in my
+life.  Mrs. Mountford's a beauty, Sherry, and Mr. Cibber—when
+he doesn't squeak—has the pleasantest voice ever I
+heard—nay, not that, after all; 'tis not so pleasant as my
+lord Marlborough's.  What d'ye think, Sherry?  I met the
+earl himself at Lord Godolphin's, and he has my name on
+a scrap of paper, and to-morrow or next day I shall hold
+the queen's commission, and then off with the troops
+to Flanders, and I shall make my fortune, man, and
+then——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh!" put in a voice from the doorway.  "Haastige
+spoed is zelden goed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's excitement was dashed by the slow drawl of
+Mynheer Grootz, whose little eyes were twinkling as he
+puffed at his big pipe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, a true word," said Sherebiah.  "'More haste, less
+speed,' as the Dutch words mean put into rightful
+language.  'Counten chickens afore they be hatched,' as ye
+med say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Though he was a little nettled, Harry had too much
+good sense not to see that his elation had carried him
+too far.  He could laugh at himself—an excellent virtue
+in man or boy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am an ass, Mr. Grootz," he said; "but really I did
+not expect such good luck.  My lord Godolphin was
+very kind, and so was the earl, and as he used but few
+words I do think he meant what he said.  I am sorry my
+absence made you uneasy, Sherry; but I don't understand
+why you should imagine all manner of harm."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An ye knew——" began Sherebiah; but he paused,
+hemmed, and changed his sentence.  "All's well as ends
+well, Master Harry; I axe your pardon for my free words;
+and here be a fine stout piece of ash I bought in Fleet Street
+for your hand.  Feel un; 'twill crack a pate as quick as
+speaken, and I'll be more easy in mind knowen you have
+such a good staff in company."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Sherry!" said Harry with a laugh, weighing
+in his hand the stick with which the man presented him.
+"But I'm a man of peace, you know, eh?—at present.
+Now let's to bed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As they went from the room Harry remarked, "By the
+way, Sherry, how is it that you know Dutch?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Me know Dutch?  Why, sir, what makes ye think I
+know that outlandish tongue?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, didn't you tell me just now the meaning of what
+Mynheer Grootz said to me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, so I did, now.  It must ha' been as a dog knows his
+master's speech, or just as I knowed the meanen o' the
+holy things your good feyther was used to speak in the
+high pulpit, for egad, word by word I knowed no more
+than the dead what a' said, not I."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The explanation struck Harry as rather lame, but he
+merely said, with a laugh:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you'll make a very faithful watch-dog, Sherry.
+Good-night!  I shall sleep well;—if I don't dream too much
+of battle and glory."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="snared"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Snared</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Hope Deferred—Motes in the Sunbeam—Mynheer makes an
+Offer—Sherebiah on Guard—New Quarters—Tumblers—Solvitur
+Ambulando—Doubling—Sick at Heart—Too Late—A Debit
+Balance—Gloom—Cold Streets—Three Sailors—Muffled</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Several days passed—days of unfailing happiness for
+Harry.  Though he spent hours in roaming the town,
+there was always something fresh to see, something novel
+to capture his interest.  He saw the state entrance of the
+new Venetian ambassador.  He visited the Tower, the
+Abbey, and St. Paul's, saw Winstanley's water-works in
+Piccadilly near Hyde Park, and witnessed a football
+match at Covent Garden.  He accompanied Fanshawe
+several times to the theatre, and somewhat offended
+that sparkish young gentleman by constantly refusing
+to join him in card-parties and night escapades in
+the streets.  He saw a back-sword match at the Bear
+Garden in Hockley in the Hole, and a billiard match at
+the Greyhound Coffee-house near Monmouth Street.
+Apart from these public sights, he found endless diversion
+in the ordinary street scenes: the markets, the itinerant
+vendors, the acrobats, or posture-masters as they were
+then called, who performed their dancing and tumbling
+in squares remote from the traffic.  It amused Harry that
+Sherebiah never tired of these mountebank tricks, but
+would stand and watch them with unflagging interest by
+the hour, applauding every neatly executed feat, and
+criticising with unsparing severity every instance of
+clumsiness or bungling.  Soldiers, on the other hand,
+apparently did not interest Sherebiah.  Harry liked to
+watch them drilling on the Horse Guards' parade or in
+Hyde Park; but on these occasions Sherebiah always
+strolled away, waiting with impatience until his young
+master had satisfied his curiosity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They won't kill you, Sherry," said Harry once,
+laughing as the man sheered off.  "Their muskets are not
+loaded."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True.  But 'tis no pleasure to me to see such men
+o' war.  Feyther o' mine were a trooper; he be always
+talken on it; I be a man o' peace, I be."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Every day when he came down to breakfast, and when
+he returned in the evening, Harry eagerly looked for a
+message from Lord Marlborough.  But the days passed;
+a week flew by; and still no message came.  After the
+second day he made no reference to the matter; Sherebiah
+and Grootz considerately forbore to allude to it.  But they
+watched him with shrewd eyes, and saw, through all the
+curiosity and pleasure he took in his new life, a growing
+sense of disappointment and anxiety.  He had built high
+hopes upon the interview at Godolphin's; as boys will, he
+had allowed his fancy to outstrip his judgment, and had
+added a good deal of embroidery to the simple facts.
+Already in imagination he saw himself carrying the
+Queen's colours, performing heroic deeds in the field,
+winning golden opinions from the general, coming home
+laden with honour and substantial rewards, perhaps to
+gain, as the acme of bliss, an approving smile from the
+Queen herself.  And he would wake from these day-dreams
+to the sober reality—-that the desired message from
+Marlborough had not come, and meanwhile time was fleeting
+by, and every day saw his little stock of money
+diminished.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had resisted Fanshawe's recommendation to change
+his lodging.  Charges were higher, Sherebiah informed
+him, in the more fashionable parts, and he knew that he
+could not afford to run risks.  At first he had not been
+parsimonious; he was not extravagant by nature, but he
+had not hesitated to buy a trifle that pleased him, to give
+largesse to the ballad-singers and street musicians, to pay
+his eighteenpence for a seat in the pit at Drury Lane or
+Lincoln's Inn Fields.  But he gave all this up, and thought
+twice about spending a penny.  He bought only the
+strictest necessaries, and for his amusement depended on
+the sights of the streets, the parks, and the river, and such
+entertainment as could be had at the coffee-houses,
+where for a penny he could obtain a dish of coffee, read
+the </span><em class="italics">Daily Courant</em><span> with its manuscript supplement, or
+Dawks's </span><em class="italics">News Letter</em><span>, and hear all the news of the day
+discussed with more heat than information by arm-chair
+politicians.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One day the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span> announced that the Queen had
+been pleased to confer the dignity of a dukedom upon
+the Earl of Marlborough, and that the House of Commons
+would be asked to grant him an annual pension to match
+his new rank.  Harry remembered what he had heard
+pass between Marlborough and Godolphin, and when
+the coffee-house gossips supplemented the official
+intimation with the rumour that the Countess Sarah had been
+violently opposed to her husband's elevation in the peerage,
+he understood the meaning of the peculiar tone in which
+Marlborough had spoken of acquainting her ladyship.
+The new duchess was the theme of much conversation
+and many jests in these free-spoken assemblies.
+Marlborough was a very great general; everybody was agreed
+on that; but it was doubted whether he was master in
+his own house; some said he was henpecked; one plain
+blunt fellow declared in Harry's hearing that the duke
+was as much afraid of his missis as any Thames bargee.
+Harry was not interested in Marlborough's domestic
+affairs, but his heart sank when he reflected on his own
+insignificance beside the great man whom the Queen was
+delighting to honour.  After all, how could he expect a
+man of such eminence, immersed in state affairs, with all
+the responsibility for conducting a great campaign, to
+remember a country youth whom he had seen once, and
+who had made, perhaps, as deep an impression on him
+as a fly might make on a lion.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That night Harry was eating his supper, somewhat
+moodily, when Mynheer Grootz, sitting opposite, made
+him a sudden proposition.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you dis," he said.  "I go back to my country
+zoon.  I have business wid de armies; I sell hay for
+de horses, meal for de men.  You are quick, I see dat;
+you speak French, enough for my purpose; I give you
+good wages if you come and help me in my business."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry flushed.  The Dutchman dipped a hunk of bread
+into his soup and filled his mouth with it, looking down at
+the bare deal board the while.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, Mynheer," said Harry with some
+constraint.  "I have another purpose, as you know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Up came the fat forefinger, moist with gravy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I speak plain to you.  You have pride; I alzo.  But
+I have mills, and ships, and vields; dey are mine; I am
+rich—ja, rich; I, Jan Grootz.  My fader, he was a poor
+weaver in Dort; he work hard and die poor; I work hard,
+and grow rich.  I have what for to be proud.  You are a
+gentleman; dat is zo; it is good to be a gentleman; it
+is not good to be poor.  And more, it is not good to zee
+money go every day, every day, and wait for some prince
+to fill de empty purse.  You have pride; for what?  For
+white hands, and by and by an empty stomach.  My hands,
+dey are not white, naturlik; but my stomach is full, and
+I stand up before any prince; Jan Grootz; zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He spread his broad hands before Harry, as though
+he were proud even of their horny skin.  The action brought
+a smile to the lad's gloomy face and dulled the edge of his
+irritation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't debate the matter with you," he said.  "I'm
+not afraid of work, I hope, and maybe my white hands
+may be red enough before long.  I won't despair of my
+lord Marlborough yet; and I know your intention is
+friendly, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman grunted, and applied himself again to
+his meal.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Great as were Harry's anxieties, Sherebiah's were
+perhaps even greater.  He also was disappointed by the
+forgetfulness or neglect of Marlborough, and concerned
+at the constant drain upon his young master's purse; but
+he had further causes of trouble of which Harry was
+unaware.  Ever since their arrival in London Sherebiah had
+been possessed by a dread of impending ill.  He had
+always in mind the interview between Captain Aglionby
+and the squire's man at the White Hart tavern, and day
+by day expected it to bear fruit to Harry's harm; but for
+reasons of his own he hesitated to tell him the plain truth.
+He stuck like a leech to Harry when he went walking, and
+many times when the lad would rather have been alone
+with his dismal thoughts he found Sherebiah at his heel,
+like the watch-dog to which he had compared him.  He
+did not know that even when he succeeded in eluding his
+too solicitous henchman, it was only in appearance; for
+Sherebiah, armed with a stout ash cudgel, was seldom
+many yards behind.  Many a night after Harry had gone
+disconsolate to his bed, the man wended his way to
+Southwark in the hope of making a further discovery; but he
+never saw the captain or anyone whom he knew to be
+connected with him, and when at last he found an opportunity
+of making a discreet enquiry at the hostelry, he was
+more alarmed than pleased to find that Captain Aglionby
+had departed some time before, and that nothing had
+since been heard of him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One morning, when they had been for about a month
+in London, when Parliament had been prorogued, and a
+new year had opened, Sherebiah surprised Harry by
+suggesting that they should remove to an inn near
+Leicester fields.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you were against it when Mr. Fanshawe proposed
+it.  How is it that you have changed your mind,
+Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, 'tis this way, if I med be so bold.  Your
+money be gwine fast, and 'twould never do to begin a more
+humble way o' liven here.  Nay, what I say is, if you
+must pare and scrape, go where you bean't so well known,
+and then nobody'll think the worse on 'ee for't."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang me, who talked of paring and scraping,
+Sherry?" cried Harry impatiently.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I axe your pardon, sir," said Sherebiah earnestly,
+"but I were not born yesterday.  Here are we, four
+weeks in Lun'on, and you know yourself how many golden
+guineas you brought wi' 'ee, and how many be left.  Sure
+I bean't a great eater myself, but even my little small
+morsel ha' got to be paid for.  Master Harry, 'twill be
+best for 'ee to do as I say.  Ay, an' if I knowed 'ee
+wouldn't up and rate me, I'd say another thing, I
+would so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—what's that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I'd say, hand over your purse to me.  Nay,
+sir, don't be angry; ye're not wasteful, no; but if we go
+to another house, I can save 'ee many a penny here and
+penny there in ways you wouldn't so much as dream on.
+I know Lun'on folk, you see; ay, I know 'em well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In the upshot, Sherebiah had his way on both points.
+The reason for his change of front was that on the
+previous afternoon he had seen the squire's man Jock
+hanging about the inn, and had found out subsequently
+that Captain Aglionby had returned to his old quarters
+at the White Hart.  It was just as well, he thought, to
+take one step further from danger by changing their
+lodging.  When this was done, and Sherebiah kept the purse,
+Harry was amazed to find how much further his money
+went.  It would not have surprised him if the weekly
+bill had been reduced by a small amount; but when he
+discovered that, though he fared quite as well, the
+expenses were not half what they had been, he began to
+think that Sherebiah possessed some talisman against
+the cupidity of London innkeepers.  He found, too, that
+he was left much more to himself, and wondered why,
+with the change of lodging, Sherebiah's watchfulness
+appeared to have diminished.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was walking with Godfrey Fanshawe one cold
+January afternoon by Pye Corner, when he was attracted
+by a crowd of people gazing at a street show that, to
+judge by their laughter and applause, was exceedingly
+entertaining.  Elbowing their way through the stragglers
+on the outskirts, the two young fellows arrived at a
+position whence they could see what was going on.  A
+group of posture-masters were performing, and at the
+moment of Harry's arrival, a short thickset man, dressed
+in fantastic costume, and with painted face, was dancing
+on his knees with his toes in his hands, keeping time to
+the music of a flute and a violin.  The tune was a merry
+one, and the movements of the acrobat irresistibly funny,
+so that every member of the crowd roared with laughter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adzooks!" exclaimed Fanshawe, "the fellow's face is
+the funniest part of the performance.  Look'ee, Harry, 'tis
+as sober as a judge's on assize; one would think 'twere a
+hanging matter."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been so tickled by this odd mode of dancing
+that he had not noticed the performer's features.  He
+glanced at them now, started with a sudden gasp, and
+cried:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Lord Harry, 'tis——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis what?" said Fanshawe, looking at him in surprise.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, I scent a mystery.  Unravel, sir!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis nothing.  See, Fanshawe, the dance is over.  Let
+us go on."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Without waiting for his companion, he pushed his way
+back through the crowd.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, I don't understand you of late, Rochester," said
+Fanshawe in a half-vexed tone, when he overtook him.
+"You're moody, full of whimsies, all starts and surprises.
+Would to Heaven that the duke would bethink him of
+that paper you gave him!  You need settling in life.  Why
+don't you go to him, or to Lord Godolphin again?  'Tis
+few suitors but would show more perseverance."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I.  'Twas against the grain to beg even one
+favour.  I'd rather earn my bread by scraping a fiddle, or
+dancing on my knees like—like the poor fellow there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let me tell you, you'll rue your independence.
+Adsbud, who would get on in this world if he didn't pay
+court to the great!  Your starveling poet writes a flattering
+dedication to a lord—for pay!  Your snivelling parson
+toadies to the lord of the manor—for a meal!  I except
+your father, Harry; he was a rare one.  'Tis the way o'
+the world; we must all do it, or pay the penalty."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be the penalty what it will, I'll pay it rather than play
+lick-spittle to any man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe shrugged.  "By the way," he said, "Mr. Berkeley
+is in town—to pay his court to someone, I swear.
+'Tis said he is buying a commission for that cub his son;
+pray Heaven it be not in my regiment!  That's the way
+o' the world again.  Here's Piers Berkeley, the young
+popinjay, all grins and frippery, like to carry the Queen's
+colours in a fine regiment because his father has a long
+purse, and you, a deal more fit for it, kicking your heels
+for want of a rich father or a richer patron.  I fear 'tis all
+up with your chances now; but I wish you luck.  I go to
+Flanders in a week; home to-morrow to say good-bye;
+who knows when we may meet again!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two friends bade each other a cordial farewell; then
+Harry returned sadly to his lodging.  Some two hours
+later Sherebiah came back.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What do 'ee think, Master Harry?" he said.  "I ha'
+seed old Squire."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew he was in town," replied Harry.  "And what
+do you think I've seen, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Detecting a something strange in his tone, Sherebiah
+gave him a hard look.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I never was no good at guessen," he said.  "Mebbe
+the German giant at Hercules' Pillars, or the liven fairy
+in Bridges Street."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, 'twas no giant and no fairy, but a short man—about
+your height, Sherry—with a round face—just as
+round as yours—and a solemn look—like yours at whiles;
+and what think you he was doing?  He was dancing on
+his knees, with a crowd of numskulls round him grinning
+at his capers, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, 'twas sure to be found out, I knowed it.
+'Twas me—I don't deny it, 'cos bean't no good."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I know why you wanted to keep the purse, you
+old dissembler.  You eke out my little store with the pence
+your antics fetch.  Sherry, I love thee; I do indeed.  But
+how did you learn those fantastic tricks with your knees?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I ha' done a bit o' tumblen in my time; ay sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to have done a bit of everything.  But
+when? and why?  You must tell me all about it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Some day mebbe.  Ha' led a motley life for a man o'
+peace; so 'tis.  'Twould make old feyther o' mine drop all
+his old bones in a heap if so be as he knowed all my lines
+o' life.  The time'll come to tell 'ee, sir, but 'tis not yet,
+no."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That was the end of Sherebiah's acrobatic performances.
+From that day he stuck to Harry more closely than ever;
+and the weekly bills increased.  They had been in town
+now for nearly two months, and by dint of the greatest
+economy Sherebiah thought that the money might last for
+a fortnight longer.  Then the wolf would be at the door.
+Harry had not told his man of Jan Grootz's offer, though
+he surmised, from a word Sherebiah let fall, that he knew
+of it.  Hoping against hope, he waited and longed for some
+sign from the duke.  Every day Sherebiah went to the
+Angel and Crown to see if a letter had come, and every
+day he came back disappointed.  He had not given the
+host his new address, for reasons of his own; and when
+on one of his visits he learnt that a man had enquired
+for the present whereabouts of Mr. Harry Rochester, he
+hugged himself on his prudence.  He would not have
+been so well pleased if he had known that on the very next
+day, when he returned from the Angel and Crown by a
+roundabout way to his inn in Leicester Fields, he was
+shadowed by a man who had waited for several hours
+for the opportunity.  And he would undoubtedly have
+counselled a second change of abode if he had known
+that the spy, after assuring himself that Harry Rochester
+was a guest of the inn, had gone hotfoot to Captain
+Aglionby.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Another week went by.  On Saturday night Sherebiah
+counted up the contents of his purse, and found that by
+the end of the next week he would have spent the
+uttermost farthing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I give it back to 'ee, sir," he said.  "Come Monday
+morn, I go to find work."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so fast, Sherry.  We share alike; when you go
+to find work, I go too.  The duke may send for me even
+at the eleventh hour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A plague on the duke!  I wish I may never hear of
+dukes again to th' end o' my mortal days.  A duke's a
+bubble, and that's the truth on't.  Better be an honest
+man, as Mynheer Grootz says."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis mere forgetfulness, I am sure, Sherry.  He has
+mislaid the paper, I suspect, and his mind being filled
+with weightier matters, has forgotten that even so
+insignificant a person as myself exists."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my belief he never did a kindness to man, woman,
+or child in all his born days.  Why, all the chairmen and
+hackney coachmen know un; ay, and madam his duchess
+too.  My lady will haggle with an oyster-wench over a
+ha'penny, and the only thing my lord gives away for nowt
+is his smile.  Hang dukes and duchesses, say I!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, I can't gainsay you, because I don't
+know.  We'll give him three days' grace, and then——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed.  The world looked black to him.  He knew
+no trade, had practised no art, had no means to enter a
+profession.  He turned over in his mind the possible
+openings.  He could not apprentice himself to a merchant or
+handicraftsman, for that needed money.  He might perhaps
+get a clerkship in a goldsmith's or a warehouse; Sir
+Godfrey Fanshawe, no doubt, would vouch for his respectability!
+He almost envied the footmen of gentlemen of quality, who
+wore a livery, earned six pounds a year, and a crown a
+week extra for gloves and powder.  He writhed on his
+sleepless bed that night as he contrasted his present
+circumstances with his former prospects and his recent
+imaginings.  A clergyman,—an officer of the Queen's,
+forsooth! he was a pauper, a beggar, with nothing but
+his health and his wits.  Then he rated himself for his
+despondency.  "Fancy snivelling," he said to himself,
+"because a duke hasn't the grace or the time to
+remember a promise!  What would my father think of me?
+Here have I wasted precious time waiting on a duke's
+pleasure when I might have been turning the weeks to
+some profit.  And I was too proud to accept the Dutchman's
+friendly offer.  Egad, I'll go to him on Monday and
+beg him to give me employment; sink my pride for good
+and all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>So possessed was he by his determination that Sunday
+passed all too slowly.  On Monday morning he walked early
+to the Angel and Crown and asked for Mynheer Grootz.
+The landlord replied that Mynheer Grootz had left the inn
+on Friday, removing all his baggage.  He was about to sail
+for Holland, and, as the wind favoured, it was probable
+that his ship had already left the Thames.  This news
+was a terrible damper.  Harry had built confidently on
+the anticipated interview.  Mingled with his gratitude for
+the coming favour, he even felt a pleasant glow at his
+condescension in accepting service so much beneath him.
+And now this new house of cards was toppled down!  He
+turned gloomily away, and wandered aimlessly through the
+streets, disposed, under the first sting of the disappointment,
+to believe that fate had indeed a spite against him.
+He was glad he had said nothing to Sherebiah of his
+intention, being in no mood to endure condolences, in word or
+look.  "What a useless loon I am!" he said to himself
+bitterly.  "Sherry can earn his living by tumbling in the
+streets, and maybe in dozens of other ways; I can do
+nothing.  Even Piers Berkeley has a commission in the
+army—that puppy!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Harry was never long in the dumps.  He was only
+a boy, and the misfortunes that had befallen him so
+suddenly were sufficient excuse for his passing fits of
+moodiness; but his was naturally a sanguine temper, and by the
+time he reached the inn his brow had cleared and he was
+able to eat his dinner with good appetite.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The last but one, Sherry," he said with a smile.  "After
+to-morrow the purse will be all but dry, and then I shall
+have to earn my bread.  What do you say?  Will you
+teach me to stand on my head, to begin with?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks, sir, dont'ee put it so terrible low.  Look'ee,
+now, I ha' some score o' guineas behind my belt; ye're
+welcome to the loan on 'em till your ship do come home."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a good fellow, Sherry, but I couldn't think of
+it.  Do you want to make me still more ashamed of
+myself?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, sir, why not go to my lord Marlborough's
+noble house and walk up and down outside till the duke
+comes out, and stand full in his path and catch his
+eye—or mebbe his missis'; her med be taken wi' 'ee and
+command her good man to remember 'ee, for by all accounts
+she——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, sirrah!" cried Harry with a touch
+of anger.  "Hang about a great man's door, like Lazarus
+waiting for the offal!  No indeed.  Nay.  To-morrow we
+shall be adrift; pray God a fair breeze will carry us into
+port.  Sherry, you had better go and tell the landlord we
+shall leave him to-morrow.  Ask for the reckoning; we will
+pay the score and begin the morning at least free men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In half an hour Sherebiah returned with the bill.  Harry
+pulled a long face as he glanced at it.  He untied the
+purse-strings and laid his money out on the table.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis worse than I thought," he said ruefully.  "In
+some unconscionable fashion the bill mounts higher this
+week; I am ten shillings short without vails to the
+servants."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I know Lun'on folk, I do.  But don't let that
+trouble 'ee, sir; ten shillens won't make a great hole in
+my store."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I won't have your money.  Nay, Sherry, call it a
+whim of mine; 'tis our last day; the charges are mine;
+to-morrow we must start afresh.  I have some trinkets in
+my box; their worth I know not; but you can take one or
+two to a goldsmith's and place them with him until the luck
+turns.  You will do that better than I."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He left the room and came back with a miniature set in
+gold and a brooch of antique make.  Sherebiah looked at
+them with a deliberative air.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Baubles like these sell for next to nowt," he said.
+"'Tis not all gold that glitters.  But I'll take 'em, sir,
+and cheapen 'em as best I may.  Be I to pledge 'em in
+my name or yours?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It doesn't matter—whichever you like.  I'll sit by the
+fire and read while you are gone."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis a raw and nippen afternoon, and there be
+true comfort in a log fire."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He flung his cloak over his shoulders and was gone.
+Harry went to his room and brought down a volume of his
+father's containing Mr. John Milton's poem of "Samson
+Agonistes".  In the dark afternoon he read for some time
+by the light of the fire, finding a certain melancholy
+pleasure in fitting Samson's woeful laments to his own case.</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"So much I feel my genial spirits droop,</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>My hopes all flat",</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>he murmured, and then closed the book over his finger
+and gazed into the ruddy cavern of the fire till his eyes
+ached.  Sherebiah seemed a long time gone; a feeling of
+restlessness stole upon Harry.  He let the book fall from
+his hand, rose, and paced about the room, stopping once
+or twice at the narrow window to look out into the street.
+The air was misty, the pavement sticky with mud; every
+passing horse stepped under a blanket of vapour; the
+wayfarers were muffled about their necks and walked as
+though bent under a load.  Harry fidgeted, wondering
+why Sherebiah was so long.  His reading had not cheered
+him; his musing did but increase his gloom.  At last,
+unable to endure inaction longer, he put on his cloak and
+hat, took up the cudgel without which, in deference to
+Sherebiah's advice, he seldom went abroad, and sallied
+forth into the street, to walk off his fit of the dumps, if
+that might be.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By the flickering light above the door he saw three
+sailors lurching up the street.  He passed them, giving
+them but a casual glance, turned into the Strand, and
+spent some time looking listlessly into the lighted shops.
+At the door of a coffee-house he noticed a group gathered
+about a newspaper pasted on the wall.  A manuscript
+supplement had just been affixed to it.  When he could
+get near enough to see the writing, he felt a momentary
+interest in the announcement he read.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"The Duke of Marlborough has rid post to Cambridge, call'd
+thither by the desperate state of the Marquis of Blandford.  It is
+now 'stablish'd beyond doubt that the young Lord is suffering
+from the Small-Pox."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Even the great duke had his troubles.  Lord Blandford
+was, as Harry knew, Marlborough's only son; he was the
+Lord Churchill who had written to Godolphin with boyish
+curiosity to know what his title would be when his father
+became a duke.  Harry passed on, more than ever
+convinced that the great man, beset by cares public and
+domestic, could have no time to think of the small
+concerns of a country parson's son.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He turned into the Savoy and came by and by to the
+Temple Gardens, forlorn and desolate in the chill February
+evening.  Not far behind him three sailors were sauntering
+in the same direction, on their way perhaps to rejoin their
+vessel in the Thames.  The damp cold air struck Harry to
+the bone; he shivered and drew his cloak closer around
+him, and was on the point of turning to retrace his steps
+when there suddenly stood before him a woman, thin-clad,
+bare-headed, with a whining child in her arms.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Spare a penny, kind sir, to buy bread.  My lips have
+not touched food the livelong day, and my little boy is
+fair starved.  Oh, sir, have pity on a poor lone woman;
+spare a penny, kind sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stopped and looked at the thin haggard cheeks,
+the dark-rimmed eyes, the hair hanging in loose damp
+wisps over the brow.  The child's feeble moans stabbed
+him like a knife; its poor pinched wizened face was a
+speaking tale of woe.  Loosening his cloak, the woman
+all the while continuing her monotonous complaint, he
+untied his purse.  It contained a guinea and one crown
+piece.  At that moment the three sailors passed him,
+talking loudly, and laughing coarsely as they jostled the
+woman in their path.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The poor creature's need is greater than mine," he
+thought.  "Sherry will bring back some money.  Here
+you are," he said, handing her the guinea.  "And for
+God's sake take your little one out of the damp and cold!
+Good-night!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry moved on, impressed by the spectacle of a misery
+deeper than his own, and pursued by the voluble thanks
+of the poor woman.  He had forgotten his purpose to turn
+back; and was only recalled to it by the sight of the three
+sailors rolling on ahead.  They were walking arm in arm,
+and from their gait Harry concluded that the middle one
+of the three was intoxicated, and needed the support of his
+comrades.  One of them glanced back over his shoulder
+just as Harry was turning.  The next moment there was a
+heavy thud; the drunken sailor was on the ground, the
+others bending over him.  A hoarse cry for help caused
+Harry to hasten to the group.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is amiss?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be you a surgeon, mate?" replied the man, a thickset
+and powerful salt.  "Bill be taken wi' a fit, sure enough.
+A's foaming at the mouth."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not a surgeon.  I thought he was drunk."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not him.  Belay there; let the gentleman see."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to the man's head and leant over, peering
+into his face.  Instantly the fallen sailor flung his arms
+round Harry's legs and pulled them violently towards him.
+Unable to recover himself Harry fell backward, and before
+he could cry out a cloak was flung over his head and a
+brawny hand had him by the throat.  Through the folds
+of cloth he heard the men with many oaths congratulate
+themselves on the ease with which they had accomplished
+their job.  For a few moments he struggled violently, until
+he felt that resistance was hopeless.  Then the cloak was
+tied about his neck, and he felt himself carried by two of
+the three, one having him by the head, the other by the
+heels.  They walked swiftly along, and, not troubling to
+keep step, jolted him unpleasantly.  There was a singing
+in his ears; he gasped for breath; and soon his physical
+discomfort and his fears were alike annihilated.  He had
+lost consciousness.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="flotsam"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Flotsam</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Under the Leads—A Thames-side Attic—A Man of Law—A
+Matter of Form—A Question of Identity—A Fine
+Mesh—A Dash for Freedom—Help in Need—For the
+Plantations—Visitors on Board—Ned Bates—In the
+Foc'sle—Sailor's Knots—An Old Coat—Odds and Ends—A
+Soft Answer—Overboard—A Dead Heat—A Sea Lawyer—Grootz
+Protests—A Stern Chase—Sherry's Story—To the Low Countries</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>When Harry recovered his senses he found himself tied
+hand and foot, and with a cloth gag between his teeth.  It
+was pitch dark; he could hear nothing save a faint scratching
+near at hand; mice were evidently at their nocturnal
+work.  He lay still perforce; he found it impossible even
+to wriggle over on to his side.  Here was indeed a
+culmination of his misfortunes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to think, but the sudden attack and his
+subsequent unconsciousness had left his brain in a whirl.
+Gradually the sequence of events came back to him: his
+walk through the streets towards Blackfriars, the beggar
+woman, the three sailors, the pretended fit.  What was
+the meaning of it?  Had he been marked by the press-gang,
+and trepanned to serve Her Majesty on the high
+seas?  Had he been kidnapped, to be robbed or held to
+ransom?  Hardly the former, for a knock on the head
+would have served the kidnappers' ends.  Hardly the
+latter, for no one could have taken the pains to waylay
+for such a purpose a penniless youth with no friends.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he remembered the vague uneasiness shown
+at times by Sherebiah; his earnest warnings; the cudgel
+which after all had proved useless.  Sherebiah, it seemed,
+had had more definite reasons for alarm than he had
+avowed; why then had the silly fellow not spoken his
+mind freely?  Who was the enemy?  What motive could
+any person in the wide world have for kidnapping one who
+was even yet a boy and had, so far as he knew, done no
+harm to a living soul?  The more he thought, the more he
+was puzzled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was in pain.  The cords cut into his flesh; his throat
+was parched; he could not swallow.  How long was this
+torture to continue?  Where was he?  Where were his
+capturers?  He longed for a light, so that he might at
+least see the prison in which he was confined, and so
+diminish even by one his terrible uncertainties.  But no
+light came, no voice or footfall sounded gratefully upon
+his ear; and presently a lethargy stole upon his mind
+and all things were again in oblivion.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was roused by a light flashed in his eyes.  Dazed
+and still only half conscious, he saw an unknown face
+bending towards him, and a hand holding a candle.  The
+man grunted as though with relief to find the captive still
+alive; then, setting the candle upon the floor, he removed
+the gag.  Harry tried to speak, but no word issued from
+his lips.  The man went from the room, leaving the candle
+still burning.  By its light Harry saw that he was in a
+narrow attic, with rough beams supporting a slanting
+roof, and whitewashed walls.  There was a sky-light
+above him; he could hear the first patters of a shower
+of hail.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the man returned bearing a can and a hunk of
+bread.  Lifting Harry, he held the can to his lips.  The
+prisoner drank the beer greedily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I?" he asked, recovering his voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your jaw!" was the surly answer.  "You are
+where you are."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why am I brought here?  What is to be done with me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your jaw, I say!  Ye'll get nothing out of me.
+Keep a still tongue; for if ye raise your voice someone I
+know will find means to quiet ye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I insist on knowing," cried Harry in indignation.
+"Why was I dogged and attacked in the streets, and
+brought captive to——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stow it!  Least said soonest mended.  Behave wi'
+sense and ye'll be treated according; otherways—well, I
+won't answer for't."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Loose my arms then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll do that for 'ee, and legs too; don't think ye
+can run away, 'cos ye can't.  Here's your supper; dry, but
+'tis drier where there's none.  I'll leave ye to't."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Untying the cords, the man gave the bread into Harry's
+hand, took up the candle, and went out, locking the door
+behind him.  Harry could not eat; his limbs were cramped
+with his long immobility; when he stood his knees hardly
+supported him.  But it was pleasant to be able to use
+arms and legs once more, and after a time his aching
+pains abated.  He groped round the room, shook the
+door, and found it fast.  He could just touch the sky-light
+with his outstretched hand, and he felt that the glass was
+loose; but he could not remove it unless he stood higher,
+and groping failed to find any chair or stool.  Escape was
+impossible; he could but wait for the morning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He lay awake the greater part of the night, but was
+sound asleep when the same man re-entered with his
+meagre breakfast.  The morning brought no comfort.  A
+gray dawn struggled through the grimy sky-light, revealing
+the nakedness of the room.  Cobwebs festooned the
+beams; the boards of the floor were dirty and mouldered;
+the walls in places were green with damp.  Harry took
+silently the food offered him; he was not encouraged by
+the previous night's experience to question his taciturn
+jailer.  The morning passed slowly, irksomely; when the
+man returned with another meal at noon, Harry ventured
+to address him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How long am I to remain caged here?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't tell 'ee, 'cos I don't know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not one of the sailors who trapped me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no.  I wouldn't be a dirty swab for nothing
+'cept to 'scape the gallows."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who employs you in this turnkey business?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my business."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be surly.  I've done nothing to you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's true.  You ha'n't done nothing to me.
+That's true enough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you do something for me, then?  You're a good
+fellow, I'm sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, you don't come over me, young master.
+Soft speeches ain't no good for a tough un like me.  When
+I goes out I locks ye in, and if ye holler till ye bust, 'tis no
+good, not at all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't mean that.  'Tis dull as death lying on these
+rotten boards with nothing to do; bring me the morning's
+paper and I'll thank you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's harmless enough, to be sure.  Gi' me
+twopence and I'll buy ye a </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis only a penny."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True; t'other penny's for me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled and felt for his purse.  It was gone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Plucked clean, eh?" chuckled the man.  "Trust your
+Wapping swab for that.  All the same you shall have the
+paper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He returned with the morning's </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>, already well
+thumbed.  Harry ran his eye over the meagre half-sheet;
+there was nothing that interested him except the
+announcement of Lord Blandford's death at Cambridge.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The duke has lost his heir," he thought.  "He was a
+little older than myself.  Perhaps it is my turn next."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The day wore on.  In the afternoon the door opened
+and a stranger entered along with the custodian.  By his
+cut Harry guessed him to be a lawyer's clerk.  His
+movements were soft and insinuating; his face was wreathed
+into an artificial smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning, sir!" he said softly, bowing.  "I have
+waited upon you to complete a little matter of business; a
+mere formality.  The document is quite ready; I have here
+inkhorn and quill; I have only to ask you to write your
+name at the foot."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He unrolled the paper he carried, and signed to his
+companion to bring the writing materials.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! there is no table, I see.  You can hardly write on
+the floor, sir; James, fetch a table from below.—Your
+furniture is scanty, sir," he continued as the man went out;
+"in truth, there is nothing to recommend your situation
+but its loftiness.  You are near the sky, sir, and very
+fortunately so, for 'tis murky and damp in the street.—Thank
+you, James!  Now, sir, everything is in order; you will, if
+you please, sign your name where I place my finger, there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry took the pen offered him, and dipped it in the
+inkhorn.  He gave no sign of his amazement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, "with pleasure—when I have read the paper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, sir, at this stage it is unnecessary.  Why
+delay?  I assure you that the document is perfectly in
+order, and the phraseology of us men of law is—well, sir,
+you understand that a scrivener is paid so much a folio,
+and he has no temptation to be unduly brief: he! he!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Still, if you do not object I will read the paper.  It is
+merely a form, as you say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, sir," said the man with a patient shrug.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted his hand from the paper, and Harry bent over
+the table to read it.  The writing was clerkly and precise;
+the sentences were long and involved, with no support
+from punctuation; but, unfamiliar as he was with legal
+diction, Harry had no difficulty in making out the gist of
+the document so obligingly placed before him.  His heart
+was thumping uncomfortably, for all his cool exterior;
+and he deliberately read down the close lines slowly in
+order to gain time to collect his thoughts.  The request
+to sign the paper had been surprising enough, but his
+bewilderment was increased tenfold when he found what
+it was that he was asked to sign.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Stripped of its verbiage, the document stated that
+whereas Christopher Butler, gentleman, lately residing
+in Jermyn Street over against the Garter Coffee-house,
+had been acquitted of all his debts by the good offices
+of John Feggans, merchant of the City of London, the
+said Christopher Butler hereby entered into an indenture
+to serve the said John Feggans in his Plantations in the
+island of Barbados for a period of five years.  There were
+qualifications and provisos and penalties which Harry
+passed over; then, having read the principal articles
+again, he looked up and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I sign this?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir!" said the attorney in surprise.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I sign this?  What have I to do with
+Christopher Butler or John Feggans?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer looked round at the other man as though
+asking whether he had heard aright.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am at a loss to give you better reasons than you
+know already.  Who should sign it if not you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid I must trouble you to explain.  See, I find
+that Christopher Butler, having incurred debts to a large
+amount, has assigned these debts to John Feggans, who
+has paid them, and that Christopher Butler indentures
+himself a slave to John Feggans, to win his release by
+working in the Plantations.  I ask you, what have I to
+do with all this?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Christopher Butler asks that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?  What did you say?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Christopher Butler—yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed, so great was his sense of relief.  It was
+all a mistake, then; he had been seized by mistake for
+some poor wretched fellow who had lost all his money and
+been forced to adopt this, the last resource of impecunious
+spendthrifts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me," he said.  "There has been a mistake.
+My name is not Christopher Butler."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled in the attorney's face.  The little man looked
+staggered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not Christopher Butler?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not.  My name is——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stopped.  Some instinct of caution warned him
+not to disclose his real name at present.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is neither Butler nor Christopher," he added.
+"Now, pray let me go."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, I have my instructions.  I must make enquiries.
+This is unlooked for, most perplexing.  Pray excuse me
+for one moment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He hurried from the room, leaving the door open.  The
+surly custodian, who had followed the colloquy with evident
+interest, showed that he was not a bad fellow at bottom.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm right glad, that I am," he said.  "'Twas my own
+thought you was too young to be such a wild dog, or else
+you was a most desperate wild one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry did not reply.  Through the open door he heard
+loud voices proceeding from a room below.  He could not
+catch the words, but there was something in the tone of
+the loudest voice that sounded familiar.  He had no
+opportunity of forming a conclusion on the matter, for the
+speaker's tone was instantly moderated, as though in
+response to a warning.  Immediately afterwards the
+attorney returned, accompanied by a low-browed fellow in
+a lackey's livery.  The lawyer's smile was as bland as ever
+as he came into the room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not unusual for a man to change his mind, Mr. Butler,
+but in this case I fear 't will be a little awkward.
+I am instructed that you are the Christopher Butler named
+in this indenture, and have to insist on your affixing your
+signature to it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" said Harry impatiently.  "I tell you my
+name is not Butler, and I refuse to sign the paper.  'Tis a
+preposterous error.  I never was in debt in my life; I know
+nothing of Feggans; indeed, know hardly a soul in London;
+why, I never was in London till a month or two ago."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear sir, my dear sir," said the lawyer, as though
+expostulating with a hardened liar.  Turning to the
+lackey, he asked: "You see this young gentleman?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, I do so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry started.  The accent was pure Wiltshire, and
+fell on his ears like a message from home.  He scanned
+the man's features, but did not recognize him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is his name?" went on the lawyer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Butler; ay, 'tis Butler, sure enough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you see him last?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Fleet prison, to be sure, ay, and on the
+common side, too."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure of this?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, faith, sure enough.  I seed the gentleman often
+at maister's; many's the time I called a hackney for'n in
+the darkest hour o' night, thinken as them as goo fast
+won't goo long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And you were present with your master when this
+little matter of business was arranged?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was so, ay."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer looked with his eternal smile at Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, sir," he said, "you will no longer delay to put
+your hand to this document."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been thinking rapidly.  He gave up the
+hypothesis of error; the lawyer's visit was clearly part of
+a deliberate plot; it mattered little whether he was privy
+to it, or was innocently carrying out his instructions.
+No doubt there was a </span><em class="italics">Christopher Butler</em><span> who had thus
+sold himself to pay his debts, but somebody had
+determined to substitute Harry for the real man.  He had
+noticed that the name Christopher Butler was written in
+pencil every time it occurred in the document, all else
+being in ink; and it suddenly flashed upon him that the
+object had been to entrap him into signing his real name,
+which would then be substituted for the name pencilled in.
+He gave the lawyer a long look, put his hands behind his
+back, and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is waste of time.  I refuse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Again the lawyer smiled and shrugged.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis immaterial, sir.  This is but a duplicate; the
+original was signed three days ago in the Fleet.  I have
+now to——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Liar!" shouted Harry, springing forward, his face
+aflame.  The door stood open; only the lackey was in
+a direct line between the prisoner and freedom.  Before
+the man's slow rustic mind had accommodated itself to the
+situation, he was sent reeling against the wall by a straight
+blow between the eyes.  Harry was already out of the
+room, at the top of the staircase, when the little attorney
+seized him from behind and shouted for help.  The
+taciturn jailer stood looking on.  There were cries from below
+and a stampede of feet, and before Harry, with the lawyer
+clinging to him, had descended more than four steps he
+was met by the three sailors.  Swearing hearty oaths they
+threw themselves upon him, and in five minutes he was
+back in the attic securely trussed up.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Even his surly jailer, bringing him food, looked at him
+with a touch of sympathy.  Harry's haggard eyes met his
+with a mute appeal for help.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Odsbud!" exclaimed the man, "'tis hard on a mere
+stripling.  If your name bean't Christopher Butler, what
+be it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Harry Rochester.  'Tis a vile plot.  You
+believe me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I believe ye.  Tain't in reason that a boy should
+ha' got ocean deep in debt."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you help me?  You see what a snare is about
+me.  Will you go to the Star and Garter in Leicester
+fields and ask for Sherebiah Minshull?  Tell him where
+I am, and what they are going to do with me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But what'd be the good, mister?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He would find a way to help me.  You would know
+that if you knew him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And how much might ye be willing to pay, now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't a penny, as you know, but he had some
+money.  Lose no time; pray go now, at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the truth on't is I'm paid by t'other party."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it?  What is the name of the man who has
+hired you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, I don't know, but he have a fine long purse,
+and 'tis a fine swashing gentleman.  Howsomever, I'll go
+to the Star and Garter as you say, and see your
+man—what be his name?  Minshull; good; I'll go soon,
+and—Coming, sir, coming," he added in answer to a hail from
+below.  "I'll go afore 'tis dark, 'struth, I will."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He left the room, and Harry felt a momentary glow of
+hope.  It was dulled immediately.  The three sailors
+re-entered.  Without ado they again bound his arms, which
+had been loosed to allow of his lifting his food, and carried
+him downstairs.  Daylight was fading.  At the door
+Harry looked eagerly around for some person whom a cry
+might bring to his rescue.  Alas! the house was in a
+blind alley, and no one but his captors was in sight.  He
+did raise his voice and give one resounding call.  A gag
+was instantly slipped into his mouth, and he was hurried
+to the open end of the alley, where a hackney coach stood
+waiting.  Into this he was thrown; two of the sailors got in
+with him, the third mounted to a place beside the driver,
+and the vehicle rumbled and jolted over the rough cobbles.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Some twenty minutes later it pulled up at the Tower
+Wharf, where Harry had vainly sought for Jan Grootz
+a few days before.  It was now night, and as he was lifted
+out and borne towards the wharf side, Harry saw by the
+light of naphtha torches a busy scene.  Sailors,
+lightermen, stevedores were moving hither and thither; the
+ground was strewn with bales and packages; the last
+portions of a cargo were being transferred to the hold of
+a barque that lay alongside.  No one paid attention to the
+not unusual spectacle of a young fellow going unwillingly
+to a vessel bound for the Plantations.  Harry's captors,
+joking, chewing, spitting, shoved him with no tender
+hands on to the gangway.  At the other end of it stood
+a dark-featured, beetle-browed old seaman, the captain of
+the vessel, bawling orders to this and that member of his
+crew.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!" he cried, as he saw the new-comer hauled along
+in the sailors' arms; "this be the springald?  Zooks! ye
+are none too soon: tide turns in half an hour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we be, sir, true; and this be Christopher Butler,
+mark you, for the Plantations."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Papers?" roared the captain, spitting into the river.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All taut, sir," replied the man, producing the document
+that Harry had refused to sign; it bore a signature now.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Obstropolous, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Changed his mind, sir, it seems, since signing on;
+ha' give us some trouble."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons!  We'll cure that.  All aboard!  Stow the
+cockerel in the foc'sle; strap un to a plank; we'll have no
+'tarnal tricks."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As Harry was lugged forward he noticed two figures
+standing beneath a lamp swinging to one of the yards.
+He started, and involuntarily increased his weight upon
+his bearers.  One of the two came forward a step towards
+the captain and, tapping a snuff-box, said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom have we here, captain?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A young puppy as ha' run through a duke's fortune
+and goes as redemptioner where I've carried many a man
+before him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!  So young!  'Tis sad, the wastefulness of
+young men in this age."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He took a pinch of snuff and stepped back again.
+Harry had scanned his features and heard what he said.
+His heart almost stopped beating with surprise, for the
+speaker was Mr. Berkeley, the squire, and his companion
+was Captain Aglionby.  "Did they not recognize me?"
+he thought.  Surely if he could appeal to the squire he
+might even yet, at the last moment, be saved.  He
+struggled with his captors, but they tightened their hold
+upon him and wrenched his limbs with brutal callousness.
+He was carried to the sailors' quarters in the foc'sle.  His
+bonds were loosed for a moment; then he was laid on
+a plank and lashed to it.  There was a sudden commotion.
+The captain roared an order to his men, then went to the
+side to meet a custom-house officer who had just come
+aboard with two men.  An observer would have noticed
+that Mr. Berkeley hastily turned his back and retreated
+into the shadow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought you'd forgot us, sir," said the captain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no.  But we won't keep you long; you want to
+catch the tide."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The rummaging crew began a perfunctory inspection of
+the vessel.  When they were out of sight Mr. Berkeley
+came forward and spoke in a low tone to the captain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Right, sir," he replied, and sent a man forward with
+orders to place Harry in a bunk in the darkest part of the
+foc'sle and cover him up.  Consequently, when the custom-house
+officer reached the sailors' quarters, where several
+of the crew were lolling about, Harry lay hidden,
+half-stifled beneath a tarpaulin.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What's this?" asked the officer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That!" cried the ship's mate with an oath.  "That's
+Ned Bates, come aboard mad drunk after a spree.  'Tis
+the same every voyage, and the medicine's a dose of rope's
+end to-morrow."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer laughed and passed on.  The inspection was
+soon completed; the officer accepted a pinch of the
+captain's snuff and left the vessel with his crew, watched by
+Mr. Berkeley and Captain Aglionby from the corner of a
+shed on the wharf.  In a few minutes the ropes were cast
+off, and with creakings and heavings the ship moved into
+the current and began to float down on the ebb-tide
+towards the sea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The tarpaulin was pulled off Harry by a man who took
+the opportunity to curse him.  The gag was removed from
+his mouth; then he was left to himself.  He thought he
+had reached the lowest depths of misery.  Something he
+had learnt of the awful fate in store for him in the
+Plantations.  Many such poor wretches as himself had sailed
+across the seas in the hope of redeeming themselves from
+debt by years of unremitting toil.  On their arrival they
+had become, body and soul, the property of their masters.
+Treated as no better than convicts, they were put to the
+most degrading labour, and their employers contrived to
+keep them, even as labourers, so deeply in debt for clothes
+and the common necessaries of life that the day of
+redemption never dawned for them, and they lived and died in
+abject slavery.  This was to be his fate!  What a declension
+from the bright destiny that seemed to be before him
+but a few months ago!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The foc'sle was dark and noisome.  The smell of bilge
+water and the reek of the lamp affixed to the side
+nauseated Harry.  Physically and mentally, he was desperately
+wretched.  And through all his misery he was overcome
+by sheer puzzlement.  Hitherto he had surmised that,
+being young and strong, he had been marked as an easy
+prey by the professional kidnappers who prowled the
+streets of London, trepanning unfortunate young men
+likely to fetch a good price with shipmasters or unscrupulous
+colonial merchants.  But the unexpected sight of
+Mr. Berkeley in Captain Aglionby's company on deck had
+startled him into a new theory.  Many things recurred to
+his mind.  He remembered the bitter feud that had
+subsisted between his father and the squire; the disappearance
+of Captain Aglionby after a quarrel, as village gossip
+said, with Mr. Berkeley; the horseman riding after the
+coach; the strange warnings he had received from
+Sherebiah.  He could not but feel that these incidents were in
+some way connected; he began to be convinced that his
+present situation was due ultimately to the enmity of the
+squire—the gaunt, sinister old man who was indirectly
+responsible for his father's death.  But though this was
+his conclusion, he was none the less puzzled.  Why should
+the malignity of the squire pursue the son, now that the
+father was removed?  What harm had </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> ever done, or
+could he ever do, to the lord of the manor?  Was the
+squire so unrelenting, was his malice so remorseless, that
+he must bring black ruin upon a boy in vengeance for his
+baulked will?  It seemed inconceivable.  Yet what other
+motive could he have?  The more he thought of it, the
+more puzzled Harry became.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The vessel was slowly threading its way down the river
+among the many vessels, large and small, that lay at their
+moorings.  At times it stopped altogether, and from the
+deck resounded shouts and oaths at the obstacles that
+checked its course.  By and by some of the sailors came
+forward for a spell of sleep, and Harry, kept wide awake
+by his hunger and discomfort, saw them tumble into their
+bunks and soon heard their snores.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It would take several hours to reach the open sea.  Was
+there a chance that, before the vessel left the Thames, he
+might even yet escape?  To make the attempt was mere
+instinct with a high-spirited boy.  The odds seemed all
+against him.  To begin with, he was bound hand and foot
+to a plank, so that it was impossible even to bend his body.
+Suppose he rid himself of his bonds, there would be many
+of the crew on deck while the vessel threaded the crowded
+water-way, and he would be seen if he sprang overboard;
+and how could he free himself from the ropes?  The idea
+had not come to him for the first time.  When he was
+being trussed up he had remembered an old trick taught
+him by Sherebiah, acquired during his mountebank days,
+when he had mystified rustic spectators by escaping from
+ropes tied by the most expert hands in the village.  He
+had so stiffened his muscles that he could wriggle out of
+any ordinary knot.  But the situation was rendered more
+difficult by the plank.  He could not lift himself, nor turn
+on his side.  Lying on his back, he tried to ease the
+pressure of the ropes by the muscular movements he had
+practised with Sherebiah in sport.  But he found, not to his
+surprise, that sailors were more skilful than anyone who
+had previously experimented with him.  The tension was
+so great that he had the barest margin to work upon.
+Force was useless; it would only have the effect of cutting
+into his flesh and causing his hands and wrists to swell.
+But his whole mind was now bent upon one desperate
+venture, and, while the men snored around him, he began
+to strain on the ropes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For some time all his straining was of no avail.  At last
+he felt the rope about his wrists give a little.  Taking
+advantage of the slackened tension, he contrived, after
+what seemed an hour to him, to turn his joined wrists
+outwards, and in a few more minutes they were free.  They
+ached intolerably; he felt as if all power was gone from
+them,—as if he could never grip anything firmly again.
+He waited until the numbing pain was abated, then set to
+work to free his elbows.  These had been separately tied,
+and after many unsuccessful efforts he almost despaired.
+At length, however, he managed to shift his elbows down
+over the edges of the plank, which he was then able to
+use as fulcrums.  Pressing as hard as possible, he forced
+the ropes slightly slack, then jerked himself sideways and
+almost on to his face.  In doing so he more than once
+interrupted the snores of the man beneath him, and once
+desisted in alarm as the fellow growled out an oath.  At
+last his elbows were free, and he lay panting with exertion
+and hope.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But now that the upper part of his body was unbound,
+he found himself confronted by an unexpected difficulty.
+The board to which he was strapped extended down to
+his heels, and the knot being tied at the far end, he was
+unable to reach it.  A man is never so agile with his
+ankles as with his wrists, and the plank had effectually
+prevented Harry from making use of Sherebiah's trick in
+regard to his feet.  It was impossible to reach the knots
+with his hands, for the roof of the foc'sle was so low that
+he could not rise to an upright posture in the bunk.  He
+worked away at the upper part of the rope, but it was so
+taut that he could not ease it appreciably.  He found
+himself making even more noise than before, and dreaded lest
+one of the crew should awaken too soon.  Breathless with
+his exertions, he lay still to think.  Was he to be baffled
+after all?  Some hours must have passed since the vessel
+left her moorings, and though her progress had been
+interrupted and was always slow, yet she was drawing
+nearer and nearer to the mouth of the river, bringing
+him nearer and nearer to his doom.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A dull dazed hopelessness was gaining possession of
+him.  He lay with wide-open eyes, staring at nothing;
+then caught himself following the slight pendulous motion
+of a seaman's coat that hung from a nail in one of the
+beams.  To and fro it swung, with a regularity that
+became at last desperately annoying.  But all at once
+that rough stained garment became to him the most
+interesting and important thing in the world.  It seemed
+to shed a bright ray of hope.  Never a seaman but had
+a knife; fervently did Harry pray that the owner of this
+coat had not emptied its pockets.  Stealthily he bent over.
+The right-hand pocket was easily within reach.  He put
+his hand in, and drew out one after another a pipe, a
+pouch, a flint, a steel, a tinder-box, a string of beads, a
+corner of mouldy biscuit, a horn snuff-box, a tattered letter,
+a plug of black tobacco, a broken comb, a red handkerchief,
+and a nutmeg; but no knife.  He could only just
+touch the left-hand pocket; he could not put his hand in.
+He pulled at the coat, and held it with one hand, bringing
+the pocket within reach; then he plunged the other hand
+into its depths.  He touched a metal case; it clicked against
+something, and he held his breath, hoping the sound had
+not been heard.  No one spoke or moved.  He felt further;
+his heart gave a great leap for joy, for he could not mistake
+the touch of the rugged handle of a clasp-knife.  Eagerly
+he drew it out; to cut the rope was the work of an instant;
+he was free.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he was not yet out of danger.  His limbs were
+loosed, but he was still imprisoned in an outward-bound
+ship.  There was only one way of reaching safety: to gain
+the deck, spring overboard, and swim to land.  He knew
+nothing about ships; he could row and swim, but till he
+came to London he had seen no vessel larger than a
+rowing boat.  He guessed that while the barque was still in
+the Thames only a small portion of the crew would be on
+duty; but he did not know at what part of the ship they
+would be, nor where he would run least danger of
+detection.  It was still dark; he might easily stumble as he
+moved about amid unfamiliar surroundings, and there
+was the risk that, even if he reached the bulwarks safely
+and sprang over, he might never succeed in reaching land
+alive.  He did not know the width of the stream; he
+had been so long without food and had expended so
+much energy during the last few hours that he was in
+no condition to endure long fatigue.  It would perhaps be
+better to rest for a little, and seize a moment as day was
+breaking, when there would be light enough to guide his
+steps.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His body was still tingling from the strain of the ropes,
+but with the passing minutes his physical ease increased,
+and he was able to think more and more calmly.  He
+heard the clang of a bell.  Immediately afterwards a
+sailor came into the foc'sle, woke the man below Harry,
+and, when he had tumbled grumbling out of his berth,
+lay down in his place.  It was a change of watch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we, Bill?" asked the man who had been roused.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Opening up Gravesend," was the reply; "and a dirty
+night.  Raining hard, a following wind; we'll make a
+good run out."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man was asleep as soon as he had finished the
+sentence, and Harry was reassured by his snores.  Gravesend,
+he supposed, was a river-side village; if he could
+make his dive there he might find helping hands on shore.
+He wondered what the time was; the bells that he heard
+at intervals conveyed no information to him.  He raised
+himself on his elbow and glanced round.  It seemed to
+him that, in the opening to his left, the darkness was
+thinning; and the vessel was heaving to.  The time had
+come for his venture.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up as high as his confined quarters allowed and
+surveyed his position.  There were five men within the
+narrow space, all asleep, snoring in various keys.  From
+above came now and then the sound of a voice and the
+tramp of feet; nothing else was to be heard.  Slipping his
+leg over the side of the bunk, Harry paused for a moment,
+then slid to the floor.  His knee knocked the edge of the
+bunk below; the seaman turned over with a grunt and
+asked sleepily, "Be it time already?"  It was better to
+answer than to remain silent, thought Harry.  Making
+his voice as gruff as possible, he said quickly:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No; keep still, you lubber."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lubber yourself; I'll split your——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His threat ended with a snore.  Harry waited a moment
+to assure himself that all was quiet again; then, divesting
+himself of his long coat, which he knew would be a serious
+encumbrance in the water, he groped cautiously towards
+the opening, now showing as a gray patch in the gloom.
+Rain and sleet beat in upon him as he halted for a moment
+and threw a quick glance around before emerging on to
+the deck.  In the waist of the vessel on the port side two
+men were hauling up casks, probably belated provisions,
+from a river craft lashed alongside; three or four seamen
+were high up in the rigging, and the mate was bellowing
+to them hoarse commands in what to Harry's landsman's
+ears was a foreign tongue.  Harry felt that it was now or
+never; but, even as he prepared to spring, there was a
+heavy footfall above, and a man dropped from the foc'sle
+deck and alighted a couple of yards away.  He swung on
+his heel to enter the foc'sle, and the two stood face to face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry recognized the broad coarse features of the sailor
+to whose feigned fit his easy capture was due.  The man's
+first impression was evidently that Harry was one of the
+crew; he quickly saw his mistake, but before his thought
+could translate itself into action Harry, who had the
+advantage of being strung up for just such a meeting, sprang
+upon him as a bolt from a bow.  Reeling under a deftly
+planted blow the man slipped and fell heavily to the deck.
+Harry was past him in an instant, gained the side of the
+vessel, and, vaulting lightly on to the bulwark, had dived
+into the river before the astonished seaman could recover
+his breath to shout an alarm.  In a few seconds Harry rose
+to the surface, shook the water from his face, and struck
+out for the shore.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Behind him he heard the angry shouts of the sailors,
+and afterwards the click of oars working in the
+row-locks.  A boat was evidently in pursuit.  No doubt the
+craft alongside had been cast loose, for there could not
+have been time to lower a boat.  Could he reach land in
+time?  His dive had been so hasty that he had not had
+time to look around and select his course.  But now,
+through the pelting rain, he gazed ahead to find the nearest
+way to safety.  Judging by the noise of the oars, the boat
+was rapidly overhauling him, for although he had left his
+coat behind, he made but slow progress in his water-logged
+clothes.  His view of the shore was intercepted by a few
+small one-masted vessels lying at anchor, and by a large
+brig moored about a hundred yards off the clump of trees
+that formed the western boundary of Gravesend.  If he
+could gain the other side of the brig he thought he might
+dodge his pursuers.  But he doubted whether his strength
+and speed could be sustained so long.  The seamen were
+pulling with a will; the master himself was in the boat
+urging them on with oaths and execrations.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry swam on gamely, changing his stroke in the
+effort to husband his strength.  But he had only had a
+couple of minutes' start, and looking over his shoulder
+he saw that with the best will in the world he must soon
+be overtaken.  Only twenty yards separated him from the
+boat; he had just come opposite the poop of the stationary
+brig; he wondered whether a shout would bring anyone to
+his assistance, when a small skiff appeared from round the
+stern of the vessel, only a few feet distant from him.  It
+had just put off from the brig and was swinging round
+towards the shore.  Harry gave a hail; the men in the
+boat rested on their oars; collecting his remaining strength
+in a few desperate strokes he got alongside, and clutched
+the gunwale just as he felt himself at his last gasp.  At
+the same moment the pursuing boat came up, and the man
+at the tiller had some ado to avoid a collision.</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-104">
+<span id="at-the-last-gasp"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="At the Last Gasp" src="images/img-121.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">At the Last Gasp</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Back water!" roared the master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The way on the boat was checked; it came to a stop
+a few yards beyond the skiff and nearer the shore.
+Meanwhile Harry had been dragged on board the skiff, and lay
+drenched, shivering, gasping across the thwarts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Cotched, the villain!" cried the ship's master
+exultantly.  "Pull alongside, men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few strokes brought the two boats together.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll thank ye to hand un over," said the master.
+"Zooks! he shall pay for this."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He received no reply, but instead a voice which Harry,
+half dead as he was from cold and fatigue, recognized with
+a leaping heart, ordered the crew of the skiff to pull back
+to the brig.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" roared the master, as the boats parted, "are ye
+deaf or what?  Hand over that there runaway; 'tis a
+deserter.  Pull after 'em, men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The boat started in pursuit, the master shouting with
+increasing anger.  The skiff came below the brig's stern,
+where a rope ladder was hanging over the side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gi' un up, d'ye hear?  Gi' un up, or 'twill be the worse
+for ye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gif him up!  Ja, ja; certainly, but not now, mine
+vrient; not now, and not to you.  Dat is not my way.
+We do not dings zo in Holland."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What in thunder are ye gibbering about?" roared the
+master—"you dirty swab of a Dutchman, you!  I tell you
+he is a deserter.  Hand un over, or I'll have the law of ye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"De law!  Zo, mine vrient.  We will talk over dis
+matter as good vrients."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz sat down, while the men on the brig prepared to
+haul Harry, now limp with utter exhaustion, on deck.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I, Jan Grootz, find dis young man in de river; ver
+well.  He float in de river; well again; he is what de
+law call flotsam—dat is zo.  Now, mine vrient,"—here
+Grootz's fat forefinger began to waggle—"flotsam, say
+de law, belong to de sovereign, dat is, to de lady Queen
+Anne.  What is for me to do in such a case—for me, Jan
+Grootz?  I render to Cæsar—who is de Queen—dat which
+is Cæsar's—dat which belong to de gracious majesty Queen
+Anne.  Derefore I gif up dis young man to de Queen's
+officer at Gravesend—perhaps, when he is dry.  Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>While this speech was being delivered in the Dutchman's
+slow drawl, with a placid persuasiveness suited to a
+discussion between friends who did not see quite eye to eye,
+the master had been growing purple with rage.  He was
+about to explode into invective when he saw that Harry
+was being swung up.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give way, men!" he shouted.  "Run her alongside."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He held himself in readiness to board the skiff as soon
+as he came within leaping distance.  But Grootz, with an
+activity little to be expected in so burly a frame, seized
+an oar that had been shipped by one of his men now
+lending a hand in hoisting Harry on board, and, springing
+to his feet, with a shrewd thrust sent the master spinning
+over the side of his boat into the river.  He came up
+nearly a dozen yards away; his crew pulled towards him,
+and when he was at last hauled into the boat he was
+fifty yards down the river.  He had evidently shipped a
+good deal of water, for Grootz's blow must have knocked
+the breath out of his body; the purple hue of his cheeks
+had given place to a mottled sickliness.  He gasped and
+puffed and swore; but Harry was by this time safe on
+board the brig; to take him by main force was clearly
+impossible; and the discomfited master had no alternative
+but to regain his own vessel.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was carried to the cabin, his wet clothes were
+taken off, he was wrapped in blankets and forced to
+swallow a good bumper of cordial before the Dutchman
+would allow him to speak.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" exclaimed Grootz when he was comfortable.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You saved my life, sir," said Harry warmly.  "I was
+nearly done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They were taking me to the Plantations.  I never heard
+from Lord Marlborough.  They trapped me.  All my
+money was gone.  I went to the Angel and Crown to
+find you, to ask you to give me work; you had sailed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo! talk no more.  Flotsam!  Gunst!  I tell you dis,
+my vrient; put not your drust in princes: every man learn
+dis zoon or late: better zoon.  Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The honest Dutchman left Harry to sleep while he
+resumed his interrupted journey to the shore.  But he
+had barely reached the deck when he heard himself hailed
+by a stentorian voice from a wherry sweeping by under
+full sail and the rapid ply of oars.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ahoy there!  Ha' ye seed a ship named the </span><em class="italics">Merry
+Maid</em><span> a-sailen down-along this way?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja!" cried Grootz, chuckling; "what for you ask?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But the man gave him no answer; only called to the
+two men rowing the wherry to pull more lustily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" shouted the Dutchman in his turn; and though
+his voice was usually low he could roar at need.
+"Hi! you be too late!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man did not turn his head.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi! she is two mile ahead!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah gave no sign.  He was rapidly passing out
+of earshot.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi!" shouted Grootz still more loudly.  "Sherebiah,
+stop!  Mynheer Harry is here!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah jumped up so violently that, heavy as the
+wherry was, he almost upset it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry?" he roared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja!  I tell you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The wherry slewed round and headed toward the brig.
+Grootz lit his pipe and watched, his little eyes twinkling
+with amusement.  Sherebiah looked positively aggrieved
+when he came aboard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons! 'tis sinful to tear a poor mortal man's heart
+out, 'tis so.  Here be I, a-chasen a villanous creature,
+the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span> by name, thinken as Master Harry were
+a forsaken prisoner aboard on her, and 'tis all much ado
+about nothen, and he a-laughen in his sleeve along o'
+your cargo!  I wouldn' ha' thowt it, not I.  Where
+be the deceiven trickster?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep," said Grootz, with a puff of smoke.  "Flotsam!"  He
+chuckled and guffawed; it was a joke that
+would last his lifetime.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What your meanen may be I don't know, Mynheer;
+but 'tis me as ought to be sleepen.  No sleep ha' I had,
+not a wink, since Master Harry played this trick on me;
+ay, 'twas sinful.  And I'll punch Ralph Aglionby's costard,
+I will so, first chance I gets."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about it," said Grootz.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah related how, on returning to his inn with
+the money for which he had pledged Harry's trinkets, he
+was surprised to find his young master absent.  As time
+passed on, and he did not make his appearance, Sherebiah
+became thoroughly alarmed.  About seven o'clock in the
+evening he hurried off to Southwark, and enquired of
+the porter at the White Hart whether Captain Aglionby
+was within.  The captain had left a week before, said the
+porter, in company with a tall, bent, shabby old gentleman.
+Sherebiah's worst fears were realized.  For weeks
+he had expected the stroke, and now it had fallen
+suddenly, and at a time when he was not at hand to parry
+it.  He hastened at once to the house in which, as he
+had made it his business to know, Mr. Berkeley was
+staying.  Neither the squire nor Captain Aglionby was at
+home.  Sherebiah thereupon took his station at a
+convenient spot near the house whence he could see without
+being seen, and some time after midnight was rewarded.
+The two men he sought returned together.  Allowing a
+little time to elapse, he went to the house and asked to
+see Captain Aglionby, giving the servant a vague message
+which he believed would bring the captain to the door.
+Instead of him, however, Mr. Berkeley himself appeared.
+To Sherebiah's question as to what had become of Harry,
+the squire replied coldly that he knew nothing about him,
+and shut the door in his questioner's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I were a fool to ask un," admitted Sherebiah
+ruefully.  "I had ought to ha' thowt o' poor old feyther
+o' mine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was determined to have his question answered
+somehow.  He was early at his post next morning, keeping
+a careful eye upon the door of the house.  He saw the
+squire and Captain Aglionby issue forth together and
+visit a lawyer up four flights of stairs in a house near
+Holborn Bars.  He followed all three to a house in a
+blind alley farther east, never suspecting that Harry was
+there confined.  He shadowed them when they left, saw
+them enter a coffee-house, followed them when they came
+out, and then lost sight of them.  Returning to his own
+inn to enquire whether anything had been heard of Harry,
+he found that a man had called an hour before and left
+a message for him, asking him to call without delay at
+an address in Smithfield.  Hastening there at once, he
+learnt from Harry's late jailer how he had been kidnapped
+and shipped off to the Plantations.  At full speed he rushed
+to the wharf, only to learn that the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>, William
+Shovel master, had just taken the tide and was now on
+her way to the sea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You med ha' knocked me down wi' a feather.  I sat
+me down on a box under a gashly torch, and thinks I,
+'Rafe Aglionby be too much for 'ee this time, Sherebiah
+Stand-up-and-bless.'  I stood up, I did; time an' tide
+waits for no man; 'twas a sudden thought; I seed a
+sailen wherry alongside wharf, and two big swabs hangen
+round.  I showed 'em a crown a-piece, and said there's
+more to foller, and mebbe summat out o' the Queen's
+purse too; and here I be, all my poor mortal flesh
+a-wamblen like a aspen.  'Tis tooken a year off my life,
+ay, 'tis so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Jan Grootz smiled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine good vrient," he said, "I tell you dis.  You
+will come ashore with me; we will go to your inn and
+fetch your goods.  It will delay us, but only one day.
+Den my ship sails; Amsterdam; you will come?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sakes!  What about Master Harry, then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He alzo."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons!  Be that th' order o' the day?  Well, 'tis a
+long lane has no turnen.  Will there be time for me to go
+and ha' a few words wi' Rafe Aglionby?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll save 'em up.  A rod bean't none the wuss
+for bein' salted.  Ay, and I were not always a man o'
+peace!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="monsieur-de-polignac-presses-his-suit"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Monsieur de Polignac Presses his Suit</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Scenes in Holland—Feeding an Army—A Tulip Bulb—On
+the Road—The Captain's Man—A Break-Down—Double
+Dutch—The Captain Again—A Diversion—An Entry—An
+Exit—Hospitality—Confidences—Rejected
+Addresses—Palmam qui Meruit—Persuaded—Adèle</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Hundred barrels pork, tousand quarters flour, five
+hunderdweight sausages, twenty gallon schnapps, for de
+garrison of Breda.  Ver well, Monsieur de Tilly, de
+order shall be done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Jan Grootz put down the paper from which
+he had been translating, and pushed a pair of horn
+spectacles up his brow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer Harry," he continued, "you will see to dis.
+Such an order yesterday could not have been met—no.
+But wid Peter Kolp's man coming from Helmund it is
+to-day anoder ding.  In Helmund, wid Peter Kolp, dere
+is pork, flour—plenty; yes, my poor vrient Kolp dink
+dere is too much; he alzo would supply de army.
+'Grootz,' he say, 'ask too high prices.  As for me,
+Kolp, I am a cheap man.  But Grootz, he is a sad
+rascal.'  But I tell you dis: dey say my poor vrient
+Kolp forget his measures and weights, he dink fourteen
+ounces weigh one pound, and sometimes, dey say, he dink
+ten barrel bad pork make twelve good; so my poor vrient
+is not now permitted to contract no more; and he sell me
+his stores.  Truly, he is a cheap man!  Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a chuckle of satisfaction in the concluding word.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will start early in de morning, Mynheer Harry,"
+he resumed, "wid ten carts; Helmund is twenty mile
+beyond Tilburg, and Tilburg fifteen beyond Breda.  You
+will get de stores from Kolp at Helmund and return
+wid dem to Breda and hand dem over to the commissary
+dere.  Take wid you your man Sherebiah, and Piet
+Brinker to show you de road; he will pick drivers for
+de carts.  We hear noding of forayers lately; zo I hope
+you have a safe journey, And, Mynheer Harry, never
+forget dat poor Kolp cannot count, and do not know
+good pork from bad, and mistake chalk for flour.  You
+will examine dese little matters wid much care; zo?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The merchant replaced his glasses on his nose and
+proceeded to dictate an invoice to one of his clerks.  He
+sat at a desk in a low-pitched room next to the roof of a
+gabled house near the Gevangen Poort in Bergen-op-Zoom.
+The lower floors were devoted to the living apartments;
+the warehouse and offices were at the top, goods being
+raised and lowered by means of a crane-like apparatus
+that projected from the wall like a yard-arm.  It was not
+Mynheer Grootz's home; that was at the Hague; but
+Bergen-op-Zoom at the head of the eastern arm of the Scheldt
+was for the present his business head-quarters, conveniently
+situated in regard to the scattered armies whose
+wants he had to supply.</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-105">
+<span id="map-of-the-low-countries-in-1703"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Map of Part of the LOW COUNTRIES in 1703." src="images/img-128.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Map of Part of the LOW COUNTRIES in 1703.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was early in the month of June.  For more than three
+months Harry Rochester had been engaged with the
+worthy Dutchman, who was kept busy morning, noon, and
+night in provisioning the allied forces now entering upon
+a new campaign.  He found his employment very much
+to his taste, and his employer the best of friends.  Grootz
+never alluded to the time when his offer of employment
+had been slighted, and Harry often smiled as he
+remembered the pride with which, in the days of his high
+expectations, he had refused to cast in his lot with a mere
+merchant.  The novelty of the scenes amid which he
+found himself on his arrival in Holland had banished his
+ambitions for the time.  The flat country, with its dunes
+and dykes, its endless canals and innumerable windmills;
+its quaint towns, in which chimneys and steeples and
+masts seemed so curiously jumbled; the stolid, hospitable
+people—the men with their big pipes and snuff-boxes, the
+women with their characteristic head-dress, the girls with
+the riband of maidenhood at their right brow; the strange
+customs—the </span><em class="italics">spionnen</em><span> at the windows, an arrangement of
+mirrors by which from the upper rooms all that passed in
+the street below could be seen within; the placard at the
+door when a child was born; the incessant scrubbing that
+went on indoors and out; the </span><em class="italics">trekschuiten</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">pakschuiten</em><span>
+that conveyed goods and passengers along the canals,
+drawn sometimes by horses, more often by a stout mynheer
+and his vrouw; the storks nesting among the chimney-pots;
+the stiff formal gardens with their beds of tulips—everything
+interested him; his low spirits vanished into
+thin air, and he enjoyed life with a zest he had never
+known before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His duties had taken him into many parts of the country.
+In March he was at the Hague when the Duke of
+Marlborough returned to resume command of the forces, and
+he did not even feel a pang when, a humble member of the
+crowd, he saw the great soldier whose forgetfulness or
+insincerity had so woefully disappointed him.  He knew
+the potteries of Delft, and the cheese-factories of Gouda;
+he had heard the great organ of Haarlem, and the sweet
+carillons of Antwerp, and practised skating for the first
+time on a frozen arm of the Y.  Finding it difficult to get
+on without a knowledge of Dutch, the only language
+understood by his teamsters and the country people, he
+had thrown himself energetically into the study of the
+language; and he had, besides, picked up a smattering of
+everyday German phrases from one of his men, a German
+Swiss.  After his natural British diffidence in adventuring
+on a foreign tongue had worn off, he delighted to air his
+new accomplishment with the comely juffrouws whom he
+met in the course of his journeys.  He dropped into the
+routine of the business so rapidly that Mynheer Grootz
+once told him he was a born merchant—a compliment
+which, to his own surprise, did not give the least shock
+to his dignity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His intelligence and energy completely won the old
+Dutchman's confidence, and more than once he had been
+entrusted with the delivery of supplies to the army in the
+field.  It was not always possible for the military authorities
+to furnish convoys for these consignments, and they
+were therefore usually accompanied by well-armed men to
+guard against the danger of surprise by robbers and
+freebooters.  Many small bands of outlaws were abroad in
+Holland and Germany, taking advantage of the disturbed
+state of the country to prey upon the inhabitants, under
+the pretence of making requisitions for one or other of the
+contending forces.  These marauders terrorized the remoter
+districts.  Hitherto Harry had been fortunate in avoiding
+any danger of this character.  Grootz was as phlegmatic
+and silent as ever, but he showed in his quiet way that
+he was pleased with the lad's unvarying diligence and
+success.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry woke early.  The sun was bright but the air cool,
+and he felt full of vigour, eager to set off on this the
+longest expedition he had yet taken.  Mynheer Grootz
+was a bachelor, and his breakfast-table was served by a
+buxom old housekeeper who, after a brief season of
+jealousy, had capitulated to Harry's cheerfulness and
+courtesy.  At breakfast the merchant in his slow, ponderous
+manner repeated his customary warnings to Harry to
+guard against surprise, and to be punctilious about getting
+a formal receipt for his supplies from the commissary of the
+force to which they were to be delivered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is de paper," he said, handing it to Harry.
+"Make him sign it; he may be a count or marquis or
+someding of de sort, and I trust none of dem."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed.  "Put not your trust in princes"
+seemed to be the prime motto of his host's business
+career.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Mynheer," he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And here is a packet I wish you to deliver.  Not for
+de army, dis; no; it is for a vrient of mine dat live a
+few miles dis side of Helmund.  I promised her a tulip
+bulb; dis is it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He handed to Harry a small packet, on which the address
+was written.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The Comtesse de Vaudrey," he read aloud.  "That is
+a French name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja!  De lady is French, a widow, of a family dat
+had to leave France because of the persecutions.  She is
+French, but a vrient alzo.  If you need help, she will
+give it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope she is not a very great lady.  I have met no
+lady here higher in rank than a burgomaster's vrouw, and
+I thought she rather looked down on me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The comtesse is mine vrient," repeated Grootz in a
+tone that implied there was no more to be said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes afterwards they left the breakfast-room.
+At the outer door ten empty wagons were already waiting
+with their drivers, and as Harry prepared to mount to his
+place on the foremost, Sherebiah came up with the remains
+of his breakfast in his hand.  Grootz repeated his
+warnings; Harry smiled and waved his good-bye to Gretel the
+housekeeper, who stood at the door with her hands folded
+in front of her ample person, and the line of carts
+moved off.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Harry Rochester in charge of the convoy was a
+different being from the pale thin youth who had left
+England four months before.  His work had had the effect
+of hardening his muscles and developing his physique; and
+constant exposure to the air and sun had browned his
+cheeks and brightened his eye.  But Sherebiah presented
+a still greater contrast.  From the moment of landing on
+Dutch soil he had ceased to shave, with the result that his
+lips and cheeks and chin were now covered with a thick
+growth of stiff brown hair.  Harry did not like the change,
+but when he asked the reason of this departure from old
+habit Sherebiah merely said that he had concluded shaving
+to be a waste of time.  The reply was hardly satisfactory,
+but Sherebiah was never communicative unless he wished
+to be so, and Harry let the matter drop.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The roads were heavy, and the horses were of the
+large-limbed variety that spell endurance rather than pace.
+Empty as the wagons were, only twenty miles were made
+that day, and Harry decided to stay for the night at the
+Crown Inn at Breda.  The town was garrisoned by four
+battalions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and a
+regiment of dragoons, and it was for these that the
+supplies were required.  Harry sought out the commissary,
+and promising to deliver the goods within two days,
+went for a stroll through the town, leaving Sherebiah to
+bespeak supper at the inn.  He roamed through the winding
+streets, one of which ended with a windmill; admired
+the warm-toned old house-fronts; William the Third's
+chateau, encircled by the river Merk; and the fine
+Hervormde Kerk, with its lofty octagon tower and bulbous
+spire.  On returning to the inn he was met by Sherebiah
+in some excitement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What med 'ee think, sir?  Who'd 'ee believe I ha' seed?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"John Simmons, sir, large as life."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain Aglionby's man—the man who got a crack on
+the head on the Roman road?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The very same."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have often wondered how he managed to escape
+from old Nokes the constable.  'Twas whispered that the
+captain himself had a hand in it.  I suppose he came to
+this country for safety."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, not for riches, so 'twould seem," replied Sherebiah
+rather hurriedly.  "A' was down at heel, more like a
+ragged vagrom than the smart soul as drank his pint at
+the Berkeley Arms.  Mother Joplady couldn' abide un."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he see you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not him.  Nor I don't want to see un, the mumpen
+cockney.—Supper's ready, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning Harry proceeded with his convoy along
+the Eyndhoven road and arrived late at his destination,
+Helmund.  Almost the whole of the following day was
+occupied in loading his wagons and procuring extra carts
+to carry the stores collected by Grootz's client, Peter Kolp.
+At his first interview with that "poor friend" of Mynheer
+Grootz, Harry made it clear that, as a matter of form, the
+provisions would be carefully tested in quality and quantity,
+with the result that they were found to be excellent and
+full weight.  It was four o'clock before he was ready to
+start for Breda.  He followed a different route on his
+return journey.  Madame de Vaudrey's house, Lindendaal,
+lay on the upper road toward Boxtel—a safer road to
+travel, as a report had come in that the French had made
+their appearance near Turnhout, to the south, and were
+coming apparently in the direction of Eyndhoven.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Unluckily, the convoy had proceeded only a few miles
+on its return to Breda when, as it was crossing the Aa
+river, one of the horses took fright and toppled the cart
+into the water.  Fortunately the stream was sluggish and
+shallow, but Harry saw that it would take some time to
+extricate the wagon from the mud and collect what part
+of its load was worth saving.  Leaving Piet Brinker in
+charge of the work, he decided to push on himself with
+the remainder of the convoy, deliver the packet he carried
+for Madame de Vaudrey, and wait for the rescued wagon
+to overtake him.  He knew that, with the hospitality
+universal in Holland, the countess would not allow him to
+proceed unrefreshed, and he was in truth not a little glad
+of the opportunity of seeing the lady whom Grootz had so
+emphatically called his friend.  He therefore drove on.
+The wagon wheels ploughed deep furrows in the heavy
+sandy roads, and the big Dutch horses plodded on steadily
+but slowly.  The road wound by and by through avenues
+of elms, pruned of their branches in the Dutch way, and
+looking to Harry's English eyes very starved and ugly.
+At length he came to a wall on the right that appeared
+to enclose a park of some considerable size.  A peasant
+was passing, whom he hailed, asking in Dutch whether
+this was the house of Madame de Vaudrey.  The man
+looked stolidly at him without replying.  Sherebiah
+repeated the question, using a different phrase.  The
+Hollander answered at once that this certainly was Lindendaal,
+the chateau of the French lady.  Harry sprang from his
+wagon, ordered the drivers to draw up by the side of the
+road, which was here parallel with a narrow canal, and
+entered the gate accompanied by Sherebiah.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you one thing that puzzles me, Sherry," he
+remarked, as they passed up an avenue bounded on both
+sides by a breast-high balustrade of stone.  "You and I
+have been in this country the same time, and seen each as
+much as the other of the people, and yet you have beat me
+altogether in picking up the language, hard as I have
+worked at it.  I don't understand it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well, Master Harry," said Sherebiah, "'tis like
+that sometimes, so 'tis.  You be a scholard, with book
+larnen and all that; I be, true, a poor common mortal,
+but mebbe my ear be quicker 'n some."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Still, the time is rather short for you to have learnt to
+speak the language so well as you do.  Your knowledge
+has grown as quickly as your beard."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True now, mebbe so; Samson in the Holy Book
+growed amazen clever wi' his locks; but I never thowt
+afore as how it med be the same in these days."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks very English, doesn't it?" he said, pointing
+to the house.  It was square, with a veranda painted blue,
+under which were several windows opening to the ground.
+In front was an open semicircular space, around which
+were parterres of brilliant flowers; these were separated
+from the park and orchard by a prolongation of the
+balustrades that lined the drive.  There were dormer windows
+in the roof, and at one angle rose a kind of belfry
+surmounted by a weathercock.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the packet, Sherry; you had better remain at
+the door while I go in."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, or mebbe I med find my lone way to the kitchen?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; remain at the door until I have seen Madame
+de Vaudrey.  I can't have you coquetting with her maids."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to the door, which stood open, the
+afternoon having been warm.  A spare, anxious-looking
+man-servant came in answer to his ring.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Madame de Vaudrey within?" he asked in Dutch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man's accent when he replied in the affirmative left
+no doubt that he was a Frenchman.  Harry explained his
+errand in French, whereupon the man said in the same
+language that his mistress was for the moment engaged,
+but that if Monsieur would wait no doubt she would see
+him shortly.  He led Harry through the wide hall, up a
+handsome oak staircase into a little ante-room, where,
+begging him to be seated, he shut the door upon the
+visitor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was immediately aware of voices engaged in
+conversation on the other side of the folding-doors that
+formed one wall of the room.  At first the sounds came to
+him as murmurs in different tones, but after a time they
+became louder, and though he could not distinguish the
+words it was plain that one at least of the speakers was
+very angry.  At length he heard the fierce clanging of
+a bell below; a few moments after, the manservant came
+running into the ante-room and threw open the
+folding-doors.  Harry, looking into what was evidently the
+drawing-room, saw a group of four.  One was clearly the
+lady of the house, short, stout, dressed in a costume little
+resembling the Dutch housewife's usual attire.  She was
+very angry, talking vehemently, and gesticulating with her
+plump white hand.  By her side stood a younger lady,
+half a head taller, slim and graceful, perfectly still and
+collected, though her cheeks were flushed.  Opposite to
+the two ladies, their backs to the four windows which lit
+the other end of the room, were two men, one very tall
+and lean, with thin lips.  The other was but little shorter
+and a good deal stouter.  Harry's attention had been at
+first attracted to the ladies; the burlier of the two men
+was the last of the four to be noticed; and it was with
+a shock of amazement that he recognized in his figure and
+blotched red face no other than Captain Aglionby.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Allez-vous-en, allez-vous-en!" the elder lady was
+repeating.  "Quittez ma maison, tout de suite; je vous
+l'ordonne, je l'exige, je le veux absolument; retirez-vous,
+messieurs, d'ici, et au plus vite!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby laughed.  None of the four had yet caught
+sight of Harry standing back in the darker ante-room.
+The lady turned to the manservant and ordered him to
+eject the unwelcome visitors.  The servant hesitated to
+attempt a task clearly beyond his strength.  Aglionby put
+his hand on his sword, and then laughed again brutally as
+he recognized that he had nothing to fear.  All the time
+the taller man stood quietly watching the scene, occasionally
+moistening his lips; and the girl remained in the
+same tense immobility, her eyes never leaving the face of
+Aglionby.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt it was time to intervene.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I may be allowed—" he began.  At the first
+word the captain swung round as if on a pivot and stared.
+His puffed crimson face turned a sea-green as he saw
+advancing towards him, fresh, lithe, confident, the youth
+whom he fondly imagined by this time leading a slave's
+life in a Barbados plantation.  The other man did not stir;
+but the two ladies looked towards the speaker with a sort
+of startled surprise.  Stepping towards the elder, Harry
+continued:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I may be allowed to offer my services.  If
+Madame will be so good as to retire, I will—reason with
+these gentlemen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey clasped her hands and looked
+indecisively at the new-comer, as though doubting the
+propriety of accepting the intervention of a stranger.
+Harry was on the point of explaining who he was, when
+the matter was settled in an unexpected way.  The girl
+moved to her mother's side and took her by the hand.
+Then, turning to Harry, she said in clear, cold tones:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If Monsieur will rid the house of these two men he
+will do my mother a great service.  Come, Mamma!"  And
+then, without another glance at any of the three,
+she led Madame de Vaudrey, still half-resisting, from the
+room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The colour had been gradually returning to Aglionby's
+face, and when the ladies had disappeared his purple hue
+was deeper than ever.  But the surprise of Harry's
+presence was so great that for the moment the doughty
+captain was nonplussed; his anger was at boiling-point, but
+he was clearly at a loss what course to take.  His
+companion stood expectant, a slight smile still on his
+face—a smile rendered peculiarly disagreeable by a twitching
+of the mouth that drew one corner perceptibly upwards
+towards the left ear.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The interval of silence seemed longer than it really was.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure, gentlemen," said Harry with great urbanity,
+"you will see the propriety of at once relieving
+Madame de Vaudrey of your presence."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then the storm broke.  Glaring with rage, unable to
+stand still, stuttering in his speech, Aglionby roared:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You insolent puppy, you low-born cully, you—how
+dare you speak to me!  What are you doing here?  Stap
+me, I'll run you through the midriff and rid the world of
+a bit of vermin!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be delighted to give you an opportunity—outside,"
+said Harry quietly.  "Meanwhile, the door is open,
+and by making your exit you will please not Madame de
+Vaudrey only, but me and, it appears, yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adsbud, I'll—I'll——" stuttered Aglionby, half drawing
+his sword.  Harry had his right hand on the hilt of his
+own weapon, the third man was still watching the scene,
+when an unlooked-for diversion occurred.  Harry was
+between the two rooms, the two men opposite him with
+their backs to the drawing-room windows, which were
+open.  It happened that a flight of steps led up from the
+garden to a balcony beneath these windows.  At this
+critical moment a fourth man came suddenly into the room
+from the outside.  Before any of the three could perceive
+what was happening, the new-comer, with a long
+acrobatic spring, simultaneously imprisoned in his arms the
+necks of Aglionby and his companion, and half-throttling
+them dragged them past Harry, through the ante-room,
+into the corridor, and down the staircase.  Harry followed,
+himself somewhat amazed at their helter-skelter
+progress—bumping down the stairs, struggling vainly in Sherebiah's
+vice-like grip, swaying against the balusters first on
+one side then on the other, the wood-work creaking and
+groaning under the pressure.  Half-way down the men
+lost their feet altogether, and were incapable of resisting
+the rush with which their captor hauled them across the
+vestibule and through the open door, where he pulled up
+with a sudden jerk and shot them down the flight of
+shallow steps on to the drive in front.  The whole
+proceeding scarcely occupied more than half a minute, so
+sudden had been the onset, so helpless were the two men,
+gasping half-strangled in Sherebiah's merciless hug.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran down the stairs, expecting to find his man
+engaged in a battle royal before the house.  But when he
+reached the door he saw Aglionby and the Frenchman
+already halfway down the drive towards the road.  They
+had not waited, then, to demand satisfaction of him.
+Smiling at his recollection of their headlong descent, he
+went upstairs again, and was met by Madame de Vaudrey,
+who had come from another room at the sound of scuffling.
+She was very pale.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are gone, Madame," said Harry at once, to
+reassure her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur, I thank you, I thank you with good
+heart!  Your help at the precise moment was so precious.
+I cannot thank you too much."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my servant, Madame—a very useful fellow.
+He did it all himself.  I am glad we happened to be at
+hand.  This unforeseen incident has prevented me, Madame,
+from explaining my presence here.  I have called to leave
+a packet entrusted to me by Mynheer Grootz, a friend of
+yours, I think."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! it is my tulip bulb.  Mynheer Grootz promised to
+send it me.  Yes, he is a friend of mine indeed.  But are
+those men really gone?  Will they not overpower your
+brave servant?  They are bad men—oh, they are bad!  I
+fear them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw them going down the drive.  And my man knows
+how to take care of himself," said Harry.  "They will not
+trouble you again at present.  And now, Madame, as I
+have Mynheer Grootz's packet in the ante-room, if you
+will allow me to place it in your hands I will take my
+leave and proceed on my way."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu, non!" cried the lady.  "You must allow
+me to give you some refreshment, and your brave man too—if
+he is really safe!  Jean," she called to the servant,
+"bring wine and cakes and fruit to the drawing-room.
+But first see if this gentleman's servant is safe."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is, Madame," replied the man at once.  "The men
+from the stables and the garden were coming to the door:
+Mademoiselle had fetched them: and they were too many
+for Monsieur de Polignac and the other."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How thankful I am!  Bring the brave man up with
+you.  Now, Monsieur—I do not know your name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Harry Rochester, Madame; I am English."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!  Come into the drawing-room and rest.  Jean
+will bring something to eat and drink immediately."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way into the room, gave Harry a comfortable
+chair, and sat opposite to him, folding her plump
+hands on her lap, and heaving a sigh of satisfaction and
+relief.  The servant soon reappeared with a tray, and when
+Madame de Vaudrey had seen Harry supplied with drink
+and food that pleased him, she dismissed her man, read
+the letter Mynheer Grootz had enclosed with his gift, and
+began to talk.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are English?  That is interesting.  My dear
+husband's mother was English, so that my daughter has a
+little—a very little, of course—English blood in her.  I
+cannot tell you how thankful I am that you came when
+you did.  That is also another debt I owe to Mynheer
+Grootz.  He writes very amiable things of you.  I was at
+my wits' end, Monsieur Rochestair; I will tell you about
+it.—Do you like that wine?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, it is excellent."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad!  You speak French very well for an
+Englishman.  My daughter wishes to learn English.  She
+takes after her father, not after me.  I wonder where she
+is?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry followed her glance to the door; he too had
+wondered what had become of the tall girl who had shown
+so much decisiveness of character at an awkward moment.
+But she did not appear.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," continued the amiable hostess, "let me tell you
+all about it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Grootz's recommendation was clearly a passport
+to her favour.  She leant back in her high chair, and
+in her clear, well-modulated voice told Harry what he was,
+it must be confessed, curious to hear.  It was three years
+since her husband, the Comte de Vaudrey, died.  He was
+a student, not a man of affairs; and his fortune suffered
+through his lack of business-like qualities.  The estate, a
+small one, purchased by his father when as a Huguenot he
+fled from France at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
+was now much encumbered.  Monsieur de Vaudrey had
+bought the best perspective glasses and other expensive
+scientific instruments, had spent large sums on rare books
+and specimens, and had so embarrassed himself that he
+had to apply to the Amsterdam bankers, who advanced
+him money on a mortgage of the estate.  Not long
+afterwards he died.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is only a year ago," continued Madame de Vaudrey,
+"that we learnt that we were to have a neighbour.  The
+estate adjoining our own had been in the market for many
+years, and we heard that it had at last been purchased by
+a Monsieur de Polignac, a Frenchman, and a Huguenot
+like ourselves.  We were rejoiced at the news; a neighbour
+of our own race and faith would be so charming, we
+thought.  And so indeed he was, at first.  I thought his
+visits to his estate too few; he was so often at the Hague;
+when he came to see us he was so debonair, so gracious,
+that I liked him well.  With my daughter, quite the
+contrary.  It was prejudice, I told her; but from the first she
+looked on him coldly.  Then all at once he became a more
+frequent visitor, and I saw—yes, a mother's eyes are
+keen—that he had pretensions to my daughter's hand.  I did
+not oppose him; he was rich, noble, a Huguenot; but
+Adèle—certes, Monsieur Rochestair, no maiden could ever
+have given less encouragement.  The first time he was
+refused he smiled—he does not look well when he smiles,
+think you?—and said that he would still hope.  But though
+I thought the match a good one, I would not persuade my
+daughter: she is all I have, Monsieur, and so young.  He
+went away; then a few days ago I am astonished to see
+him reappear in company with Captain Aglionby, who is
+visiting him.  Now first I begin really to dislike Monsieur
+de Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you know Captain Aglionby before, then?" asked
+Harry in surprise.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; that is why.  I know him, and I think no friend
+of his can be a good man.  Captain Aglionby stayed for a
+month in this house some five years ago.  No, he was not
+a welcome guest; he was brought here to recover from a
+wound he had received in a skirmish near by; ah,
+Monsieur, he is an odious man!  I hate his loud voice, his
+turbulence, his rodomontade; imagine, three times,
+Monsieur, three times he intoxicated himself in my house, and
+excused himself with the plea that he had done so many
+times with the Czar of Muscovy.  He used to force himself
+into my husband's study, meddle with his things, spoil
+his scientific experiments—my husband was discovering a
+plan to get gold from sea-water, and we should have been
+so rich!  But the odious captain ruined all.  I am sure he
+did, for the experiments came to nothing."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you put up with it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas! what could we do?  My husband was a man of
+tranquil soul who had lived so long with his books that
+he could not deal with men.  As for me—you see me, a
+poor helpless woman! and Adèle was then only eleven!
+judge then my surprise and alarm when I see Captain
+Aglionby in company with Monsieur de Polignac.  Still
+more to-day, when Monsieur de Polignac comes once
+more to urge his suit.  Adèle refuses him with scorn.
+And then—oh, the villain!—he tells me he has bought
+from the Jews of Amsterdam the mortgage on this estate,
+and if Adèle will not be his wife, then he turns us
+out—think of it, Monsieur; turns two defenceless women out.
+This it is that changes me, a weak woman, into a fury, as
+you see."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry forbore to smile at Madame de Vaudrey's placid
+impersonation of a fury.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are a couple of villains indeed," he said.  "It
+was truly fortunate that I came with Sherebiah at the
+right moment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed; a thousand thanks!  And only think of it:
+just before you came Captain Aglionby, odious man, had
+dared to hint that when we were thrust out of our home he
+would do me the honour to marry me.  Truly an honour!
+No, I never forget my dear husband; no, never!  Ah, this
+is the dear brave man, your servant?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The door had opened, and Sherebiah came in awkwardly,
+turning his hat between his hands.  Madame de Vaudrey
+rose and, smiling upon him, said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I give you a thousand thanks.  You are a hero; how
+strong! how bold!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah bobbed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame de Vaudrey thanks you," said Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis handsome of the lady, sir, and I'm obleeged, and
+axes you to put my sarvices into French lingo, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He bobbed again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Captain Aglionby?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, I reckon he be madder than a March hare.
+Nigh to bust hisself, and hot as pepper.  Would ha'
+slashed me, man o' peace as I be, if 'tweren't for half
+a dozen Dutch coofs wi' pitchforks and other articles o'
+warfare drawn up below, wi' the young lady at their head.
+Ay, she be a warrior bold, sure enough: I never seed such
+a piece of female manliness all my life long.  'Twas with a
+flashen eye and a pink rose on each pretty cheek her stood
+and ordered 'em out.  Ay, an uncommon upstanden piece
+o' womankind her be, to be sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was glad that Madame de Vaudrey's ignorance
+of English could not fathom this plain-spoken tribute to
+her daughter's charms.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are really gone, then?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes, both on 'em; the long beetle chap as well.
+He be a next-door neighbour, it seems, and a mighty
+unpleasant neighbour he must be.—Thank 'ee kindly, mum,"
+he added, as Madame de Vaudrey offered him a glass of
+wine, "but if 'ee don't mind, I'd rather wet my whistle
+with a mug of beer in the kitchen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The lady smiled when this was interpreted.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You English are like the Hollanders in that," she said.
+"Certainly.  Jean, take the brave man to the kitchen and
+treat him well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah pulled his forelock and departed with alacrity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We must shortly be going on our way, Madame," said
+Harry.  "I have a convoy of provisions for the garrison at
+Breda, and my wagoners are even now growing impatient,
+I doubt not."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Monsieur, I cannot hear of it.  You cannot reach
+Breda to-night; and suppose those odious men return?
+You must be tired.  Do me the favour to stay here for
+the night; and we can find a bed for your man also."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But the wagons?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let them go on to the village; it is but half a league
+away.  They can remain at the inn there.  Monsieur, I
+insist; and besides, I have to write a letter of thanks to
+my friend Mynheer Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had no reason for refusing an invitation so cordial.
+Madame de Vaudrey beamed when he accepted, and, begging
+to be excused, went off to make arrangements with
+her servants.  Left to himself, Harry looked round the
+room.  It was richly furnished; the tables, cabinets, and
+chairs were of French make, in highly polished rose-wood;
+chairs and sofas were covered with crimson velvet, and
+two cabinets were filled with beautiful porcelain and Dutch
+china.  The pictures upon the walls were all French,
+except one—a portrait, evidently by a Dutch hand and
+of a comparatively recent date.  It represented a man's
+head, with dark complexion and wistful melancholy eyes.
+Harry was attracted to it by a slight resemblance to his
+father; not in the features, which were quite unlike, but
+in the curious sadness of the expression.  His thoughts
+were carried back to his old home at Winton St. Mary,
+and the quiet life with his father there; a mist came before
+his eyes, and he fell into a reverie, standing thus before the
+picture.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>So rapt was he in recollection that he did not hear the
+door open behind him, nor turn to see the entrance of
+Adèle de Vaudrey.  For a moment the girl stood in the
+doorway, holding the handle.  An onlooker would have
+seen a strange shifting of expression upon her face as she
+paused in hesitation whether to advance or retire, to speak
+or to remain silent.  It was but for a moment; her lips
+softened, her long lashes drooped down upon her eyes;
+and closing the door as noiselessly as she had opened it
+she slipped away.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="bluff"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Bluff</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Stroll—A Fair Cook—Love and Duty—An Arrival—General
+van Santen—Raiders—A Dozen all Told—Rallying the
+Peasants—Desperate Counsels—The Masqueraders—Strategy—A
+Ruse de Guerre—Stage Effects—Final Touches—In Sight—At
+the Door—Ransom—A Turn of the Screw—Phantom
+Forces—Dilemma—Discretion—Courtesies</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rochestair, pardon me for leaving
+you so long.  I have been to prepare your room."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you indeed, Madame!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You were looking at the portrait?  It is my dear
+husband.  Is it not a fine head?  Can you imagine, after
+seeing it, that I could put that odious captain in his place?
+Not that I should think every man bad unless he resembled
+my husband.  No, that would be unjust.  But come and
+see my garden, Monsieur Rochestair.  It is beautiful
+outside now that the sun is going down."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be delighted.  I have noticed how the scent of
+the flowers comes to us here through the windows."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I love flowers.  Mynheer Grootz knows that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame conducted Harry through the grounds.  They
+were laid out with more freedom than was usual in Holland,
+and reminded him at many a turn of well-tended parks at
+home.  The house was surrounded by its garden; beyond
+this was an expanse of lawn and thin park bounded by a
+wall.  Beyond this again, Madame de Vaudrey explained,
+lay the orchard belonging to the far larger estate now
+owned by Monsieur de Polignac.  At a considerable
+distance from the house on the eastern side Harry remarked
+a large open stretch of ground, roughly circular in shape,
+covered with grass that grew wild and was left uncropt,
+Across the middle of it ran a ditch, now apparently dry,
+passing under the garden wall and the road, and evidently
+connected with the canal.  Near to the spot where the
+ditch disappeared beneath the wall stood a large dilapidated
+building, like the storehouse usually attached to a
+Dutch mill.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You wonder at our neglect of this part of the grounds,"
+said the lady with a smile.  "But that is our skating pond.
+In winter we open the sluices at the canal end of the ditch;
+it fills, the water overflows, and thus we flood the field.
+Then comes the frost, and we have, I think, the finest
+skating pond in Holland, and quite safe.  We used to
+hold tournaments, people came from miles around; but
+alas! since this terrible war has recommenced we have
+almost forgotten those pleasant sports of winter.  I do
+hope it will soon come to an end.  I never could
+understand what men are fighting about.  My dear husband
+used to speak of the balance of power; the French king
+wishes to rule everybody, he told me; certainly King Louis
+is a bad man; he has behaved disgracefully to us poor
+Huguenots; and I dare say you English are quite right in
+helping the Dutch to punish him.  But war is so terrible.
+My dear husband was trying to invent something that
+would enable one army to make another army senseless
+without killing them; I know nothing about it, but the
+idea was excellent; and if the truth were known I dare
+say it was that odious Captain Aglionby who spoilt that too."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the good lady kept chattering to Harry as she
+conducted him over her little estate.  The evening was
+drawing rapidly in; a light mist was rising, and Madame
+shivered a little as she turned back towards the house.  A
+moment afterwards her daughter met her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother," she said, "you should not be out in the
+damp air.  You know it is bad for you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my dear," replied Madame de Vaudrey, submitting
+to be enwrapped in a large woollen shawl which her
+daughter's fair hands wound about her head and shoulders.
+"I have been showing Monsieur Rochestair our little
+property—alas! soon to be ours no more.  I told Monsieur
+why, Adèle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not tell you, Madame," said Harry, "that I
+happen to know something of Captain Aglionby."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! nothing but what is perfectly odious, I am sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have reason to believe that he was concerned in an
+attempt to ship me to our plantations in Barbados.  My
+man tells me——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," interrupted the girl, "my mother is subject
+to chills.  You are staying with us to-night; will you
+hasten to the house with my mother and tell us the story
+at supper?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"With pleasure, Mademoiselle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a little in awe of this very decisive young
+lady, with her scornful lip and clear uncompromising tones.
+She hurried in advance to the house, and was waiting in
+the panelled dining-room when the others appeared.  The
+table looked very inviting with its spotless napery, shining
+plate, and vases of flowers, and Harry found the meal
+much to his taste after the plain fare of Dutch hostelries.
+Besides such staple viands as Westphalian ham and
+bag-puddings—one variety of these, filled with raisins and
+spices, was excellent—there were dainty French
+dishes—confections of fruit and cream which surprised even
+Madame la Comtesse.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you rogue!" she exclaimed; "I see now where
+you hid yourself this afternoon."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle likes cooking?" Harry ventured to say.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By no means, Monsieur, I dislike it exceedingly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew we had nothing ready, Mamma," added the
+girl, "and you would not have liked Monsieur to think
+little of your hospitality."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During the meal Harry gave the ladies an account of
+himself, speaking of his early hopes and ambitions, his
+disappointments, the vain waiting for a message from
+Marlborough, the strange animus of the squire, the
+kidnapping, the interposition of Mynheer Grootz.  His
+hearers were deeply interested; even Mademoiselle, though
+she said little, and seemed to curl her pretty lip when her
+mother's curiosity or indignation showed itself in little
+vivacious exclamations,—Mademoiselle kept her eyes fixed
+on Harry as he spoke, though whenever he happened to
+glance towards her she was looking away and appeared
+unconcerned.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, there now!" cried the comtesse, when Harry mentioned,
+without a trace of bitterness, Marlborough's failure
+to keep his promise; "that is my lord duke's character.
+He is mean, he is selfish, he loves no one but himself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And the duchess," put in Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is his duty.  It is his duty to love his wife.
+I did not say he was a monster."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you love papa from duty?" asked Adèle simply.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I never said that, Adèle.  Of course it is a woman's
+duty to love her husband, but your dear father was so
+good, so kind, so fond of me that no one could help loving
+him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer Grootz is good and kind, but you don't love him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey flushed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You say such odd things, Adèle.  I can't think how it
+is.  I never said such things when I was a girl.  Mynheer
+Grootz is good, and kind; you are right; and if it were
+my duty——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mamma," cried Adèle, "do forget the word duty!
+I am sure none of us either loves or hates from
+duty.—Would Monsieur like some strawberries and cream?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went to bed that night very well pleased with
+himself, his hostess, and her daughter.  He liked the little,
+simple, talkative countess; he was piqued by Adèle's
+reserve, coolness, indifference—he hardly knew what to
+call it; the something which seemed to indicate that Harry
+Rochester was a creature far too insignificant for the notice
+of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey.  "And she is clever,
+too," he thought.  "Faith, how she sent Aglionby to the
+right-about!  Polignac is a scoundrel; what will they do
+if he turns them out?  And how did he come across
+Aglionby?  She will not marry him, at any rate; that's
+one comfort."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It is very unromantic, but the truth must be told.
+Thoughts of Adèle did not keep Harry one instant from
+sleep.  His bed was a dark mysterious-looking box, with
+brown damask curtains drawn closely round it.  Withdrawing
+the curtains, he saw a magnificent quilt of crimson
+satin, snowy sheets, a lace-trimmed pillow.  He scrambled
+up, barking his legs against the high boards composing
+the sides, and the moment he laid his head on the pillow
+forgot Aglionby, Marlborough, Adèle, and duty.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Madame de Vaudrey bade good-night to her
+daughter she said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien, fillette; je l'aime, le bel Anglais.  Il est
+brave, intelligent, modeste, parfaitement aimable, n'est-ce
+pas?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, petite maman, que voulez-vous?  Est-ce que je
+</span><em class="italics">dois</em><span> l'aimer, moi aussi?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And kissing her mother on both cheeks Adèle ran off
+laughing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was awakened in the morning by the loud singing
+of the birds.  He had left his window wide open, and
+the scent of flowers and perfume from the fir wood at the
+extremity of the estate gave him fragrant greeting.  He
+sprang out of bed, and stood at the window inhaling the
+luscious odours, listening to the song of the birds and
+the incessant hoarse croak of the frogs, gazing at the
+grass glistening with dew.  "I should like a week's
+holiday here," he thought.  "Ay me! it is breakfast, and
+then for Breda!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he had only just left his room when he heard below
+a violent clanging of the bell, followed by a strange voice
+speaking in the hall, and a hasty running to and fro.
+Hurrying downstairs, he met Adèle de Vaudrey at the
+foot of the staircase.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with me, Monsieur," she said the moment she
+saw him.  "Mamma is not down yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She preceded him through the hall door, at which he
+now saw a light calash drawn up, and behind it ten
+horses, nine of them sat by Dutch dragoons, the tenth
+being the steed of the soldier who stood at the door, and
+whose voice it was that Harry had heard.  From the
+horses, clouds of vapour rose into the fresh morning air;
+the pace had evidently been forced.  In the calash were
+two men: the elder, in the uniform of a Dutch officer of
+high rank, reclined on the cushions, half-supported by a
+young aide-de-camp seated at his side.  He was deathly
+pale; his eyes were closed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, followed by Harry, came
+to the door of the carriage, the aide-de-camp without
+changing his position addressed her in Dutch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is as you see, mejjuffrouw.  It is General van
+Santen; he is desperately wounded.  We hoped to reach
+Breda, but the general swooned a few minutes ago and
+I dare not drive farther."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring him in at once," said Adèle.  "The soldiers can
+lift him.  Never mind about explanations now.  One of
+the soldiers must ride on to the village for the meester;
+it is only half a league.  Monsieur," she added, addressing
+Harry in her quick, decisive tones, "assist; I will warn
+Mamma."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She ran back into the house.  The inanimate general
+was carefully carried into the hall.  He was a fine
+soldierly man, with a strong rugged face of English
+rather than Dutch cast.  Harry remembered that Mynheer
+Grootz had mentioned General van Santen as a friend of
+his, and one of the ablest and most trusted of the
+lieutenants of William of Orange.  Madame de Vaudrey
+had by this time come from above, and stood in pale
+expectation.  The general was laid upon a sofa in the
+reception-room, and Adèle had already provided a basin
+of water and a bottle of smelling-salts with which she
+endeavoured to revive the wounded officer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" cried Madame de Vaudrey, who had left
+these ministrations to the hands of her capable daughter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The aide-de-camp explained that General van Santen
+had left the Duke of Marlborough's camp late at night
+on his way to the Hague.  In the faint dawn he had
+suddenly come upon a French raiding-party which had
+apparently made a dash from Lierre.  It was known that
+Tserclaes had advanced from the main French army in
+order to protect Antwerp.  The general had dashed
+through with his men, but not rapidly enough to escape
+a bullet which had lodged in his groin.  With great
+difficulty he had kept the saddle as far as the next village;
+but there, exhausted by the effort and by loss of blood, he
+had been placed in a hastily prepared carriage and driven
+on in the hope of arriving at Breda in time to warn the
+garrison.  His wound had proved even more serious than
+was supposed; he had lost consciousness, and his aide-de-camp
+had deemed it necessary to halt at the first house
+and ask for assistance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In what direction are the raiders coming?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In this direction, Mynheer," replied the aide-de-camp.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And how far away were they when this happened?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten miles."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So they may be here within an hour?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If they ride on at once, but they will probably stop
+to plunder."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Can they be checked?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas, Mynheer! there is no force near at hand."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely they will raise the country?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But they are mounted, and the country people cannot
+cope with them.  Even if the news is carried to Helmund
+there are none but burghers there, and they are useless
+against cavalry, except behind their own walls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And how many do the raiders number?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"More than a hundred, as I judge, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey stood in agitated silence while this
+rapid colloquy was in progress.  Adèle was still bathing
+the wounded man's temples; no one present had sufficient
+knowledge to attempt more than the roughest of means
+to bind the wound.  In a few minutes the general opened
+his eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I?" he asked, feebly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In the house of Madame de Vaudrey," said that lady.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How far from where I was shot?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a few miles," replied the aide-de-camp.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then someone must ride to Breda for help, and
+take my despatches.  They must be at the Hague to-night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will write a note to the commandant," said the
+aide-de-camp, "and send one of the troopers."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, lieutenant, you must ride yourself.  I can't
+trust the despatches to a trooper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I do not care to leave you, general."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my wish.  The enemy can only capture me, but
+they may do unheard-of mischief around.  Delay no
+longer: ride fast."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The exertion of talking was too much for him, and he
+swooned again.  Loth as he was to go, the aide-de-camp
+could not ignore the general's express instructions.  Before
+leaving he took Harry aside and asked him to consider
+himself in command of the troopers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not strong enough to beat off the enemy," he
+said, "but it will be well for the men to have someone to
+look to in emergency.  Don't let the general fall into the
+enemy's hands if you can help it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry hesitated.  His first duty was undoubtedly to
+secure the safety of the convoy, for the sake both of the
+Breda garrison and Mynheer Grootz.  On the other hand,
+he scouted the idea of deserting the ladies in their
+predicament.  Further, the raiding-party were upon the road
+behind him; they had clearly swept round Eyndhoven,
+avoiding Helmund, and in all probability were on the
+heels of the general.  Even if he got his convoy safely
+away from the village it could only move at a walking
+pace.  In an hour or two it must be overtaken, and he
+would thus do no good either for himself or the ladies by
+instant flight.  He therefore made up his mind to remain
+at Lindendaal, and assured the aide-de-camp that he
+would do his best.  But when the lieutenant had ridden
+off, and Harry reflected on the position of the ladies, he
+thought it worth while to suggest that they should start
+at once for Breda in order to be out of harm's way.  Adèle
+answered at once for her mother.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible, Monsieur!  We cannot leave the general;
+we will not leave the house.  Consult your own duty."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone was not to be gainsaid.  Harry went into the
+hall, wondering what he could do for the best.  He met
+Sherebiah at the door.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, sir, 'tis a pretty pickle o' fish."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we to do, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As a man o' peace, I say cut and run."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't we defend the house?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Wi' ten Dutch dragoons and a gardener and a maid
+or two?  And two hundred French, so 'tis said!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But men will come in from the villages round."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, on foot, and with pitchforks and flails.  Not much
+good against swords and carbines."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment a man galloped up from a village some
+eight miles down the road, with news that the French were
+already sacking and burning.  They had first demanded
+a ransom, and the sum required not being forthcoming
+within the short time allowed, they had begun their
+ruthless work.  A few moments afterwards one of Harry's
+teamsters rode up on a cart-horse.  He had heard the
+news from the aide-de-camp as he passed through the
+village where the convoy had put up for the night, and
+come back to ask for orders.  Harry caught at the
+chance of delay.  The French, it appeared, first demanded
+a ransom; could they be put off and time be gained for
+relief to arrive?  The question suggested a plan that
+might be tried in default of a better.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ride back, Piet," said Harry, "and bring up the
+wagons as fast as you can, and as many of the villagers
+as you can muster—with arms, if they have them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His idea was to barricade the road; every minute's delay
+was a minute gained, and as the news spread he believed
+that the Hollanders had courage and spirit enough to
+strike a blow in defence of their homes.  In point of fact,
+Piet had hardly departed to fulfil his errand when
+Dutchmen came up in ones and twos and threes, some on great
+lumbering farm-horses, others on foot, all hastening
+towards Breda in the hope of escaping the devouring French
+behind them.  A few had firelocks, some had bills, others
+staggered along under the burden of household valuables
+they hoped to save from ruin.  Harry set Sherebiah to
+intercept them all as they came up and to bring them
+within the grounds, and as their number swelled he
+reverted to his original idea of defending the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was a counsel of desperation.  The house had several
+entrances, each one of which must be manned; it was too
+large to be held by so small a garrison.  The outhouses
+would afford cover to an attacking force.  Including the
+ten dragoons, there were only at present fourteen
+well-armed men among the ever-growing crowd; he could not
+improvise arms, and little effective work was to be
+expected from an untrained rabble, however courageous,
+pitted against regular troops.  Further, to defend the
+house from within would inevitably lead to its being fired
+and blown up, and Madame de Vaudrey would profit not
+a jot.  If the house was to be saved it must be by preventing
+the enemy from reaching it.  What chance was there
+of effectually barring the road against the raiders?  He
+went out to investigate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he reached the park gate he was met by two men
+who had just come on foot from the village.  One was a
+yeoman, the other a soldier belonging to some infantry
+regiment—a man probably on furlough.  Harry was struck
+by the similarity of their costumes.  Their hats were almost
+alike; their doublets and knee-breeches of similar dark
+materials; but for the red collar and the bands around
+the sleeves, there was very little at a distance to
+distinguish the soldier from the civilian.  A sudden notion
+flashed through Harry's mind.  It was a chance in a
+thousand; the risks were great; the odds were all against
+success; but on the other side there was the imminent
+danger of destruction to the house, ruin to the owners,
+the capture of the Dutch general, and the subsequent
+burning of the village.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll try it," he said to himself.  "Sherry, send every
+man up to the house, and let me know the instant our
+wagons appear."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I will, sir.—'Tis a pretty ticklish time o' day for a
+man o' peace," he muttered under his breath.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran back to the house.  The doctor from the
+village overtook him on horseback, and they entered
+together.  Mademoiselle de Vaudrey showed some surprise
+when she saw Harry, but she made no comment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "the general is in good
+hands now.  May I ask your assistance?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him a keen glance, rose at once from her knees,
+and followed him from the room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," continued Harry eagerly, "have you
+any red ribbon, silk, stuff, anything, in the house?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps.  Why do you ask?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you find all that you can, and with your maids
+sew red bands round the collars and cuffs of the men?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To make them look like soldiers—is that what you
+mean?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Harry, delighted that she seized his
+meaning so quickly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do so at once.  Send the men to the hall."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry next called up old Jean, and bade him fetch the
+gardener.  When the man appeared, Harry asked him to
+gather as many sticks as he could, by preference wood
+with the bark on, about five feet in length, and stack them
+at the back door.  A few minutes afterwards a message
+reached him from Sherebiah that the wagons had arrived.
+He ran upstairs and, regardless of ceremony, called out:
+"Mademoiselle de Vaudrey!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle came out of a room, holding a strip of red ribbon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "I must go to the gate.
+Will you make every unarmed man look as much like a
+soldier as possible, and see that each is provided with one
+of the sticks that the gardener is now collecting?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes.  Is there anything else?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it possible to run up a flag on the belfry-tower?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If you say it is to be done, it shall be done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not want the flag hoisted at present; but if you
+will prepare to do so——'</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," interrupted the girl.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry thanked her with a look, and ran downstairs
+three steps at a time.  He called to one of the dragoons
+to accompany him, and hastened again to the gate,
+meeting on the way several men whom, in obedience to his
+instructions, Sherebiah had sent up from the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," he said, "ask this fellow if a cavalry troop
+on the march is preceded by an advance guard.  He won't
+understand my Dutch."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I can tell 'ee that," said Sherebiah instantly.  "They
+do so.  A patrol goos ahead, mebbe a quarter of a mile."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  Now, mark my plan.  Mademoiselle de Vaudrey
+is making some of the Dutchmen look like soldiers; we've
+no muskets for them, but at a distance I hope sticks may
+serve as well.  I am going to post these make-believe
+soldiers around the wall of the estate among the trees;
+it will look as if the orchard and woods are manned.
+They will remain concealed until a flag appears on the
+tower; then their sudden appearance will, I trust, make
+an impression."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, sir, 'tis famous.  But if the patrol gets much
+past the house, 'twill be labour lost, for they will be near
+enough to see 'tis all my eye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that must be avoided.  What can be done?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell 'ee, sir.  Leave three o' the wagons on the road,
+half a mile or so towards the village, where the road bends;
+I reckon Piet and Hans and me can keep any French patrol
+a-diddle-daddlen until the flag runs up.  Then—do 'ee see,
+sir?—dragoons slip out of copse and trounce the Frenchmen,
+Piet and me and Hans draws the wagons across the
+road: and there be a barricade."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A capital notion!  I will leave that to you, then.—Ah! here
+is a man from the other direction.  He may have news
+of the enemy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A countryman, with his wife and family, had just driven
+up in a cart.  From him Harry learnt that the French were
+sacking isolated farms on the road, and might be expected
+within the hour.  Harry at once went back to the house,
+ran up the stairs, and again called for mademoiselle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"May I go up to the roof and see if I can descry the
+enemy?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way to the turret stair, and in a few moments
+Harry stood upon the roof, whence on fine days a clear
+prospect for many miles could have been obtained.  The
+morning was somewhat overcast, and the haze limited his
+view.  But in one quarter he seemed to see a blackness
+that could only arise from the smoke of burning houses.
+Between him and the cloud appeared the gables of a house
+larger than Madame de Vaudrey's chateau.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That belongs to Monsieur de Polignac," said Adèle in
+reply to his question.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The French will come to that first; that will gain a
+little time for us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment his eye caught the large barn-like building
+at the extremity of the Vaudrey estate, just beyond the
+ditch running into the canal.  In a flash a new idea set
+his pulse leaping.  Hitherto his only aim had been to
+delay or daunt the enemy until help could arrive from
+Breda or some nearer point.  But the recollection of what
+he had seen when going round the estate on the previous
+evening suggested a daring scheme which made him tingle
+with excitement.  Adèle looked at him in silent curiosity
+as he stood for a few moments pondering the situation.
+Then he turned suddenly to her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle, who opens the sluices of the ditch when
+you make your skating-pond?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Jacques the gardener."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you!  I will go to him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He turned at once to descend.  As he came to the head
+of the staircase he noticed a mass of coloured stuff lying
+at the foot of the belfry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, the flag!" he said.  "Thank you, Mademoiselle!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A glance upward assured him that the running-line was
+in order; then without another word he went down.  Finding
+the gardener, he hurried with him to the park entrance.
+His wagons were drawn up outside.  He ordered three of
+his teamsters to drive their carts into the thicket beyond
+the outbuilding down the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The enemy will have a rearguard," he said.  "As soon
+as that has well passed, bring your wagons into the road
+and block it between the wall and the canal.  I will send
+a dozen men and two of the dragoons to remain in hiding
+with you.  Now, Jacques, go to the ditch and open the
+sluices.  How long will it take to flood the field to a depth
+of seven or eight inches?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not more than half an hour, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well.  Stay; have you a boat anywhere on the estate?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A punt, Monsieur.  I go to market in it on the canal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In the old barn yonder, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring it out and float it in the ditch half-way across
+the field.  Moor it so that it doesn't drift."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man hurried away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all ready, sir," said Sherebiah, coming up.  "The
+road is blocked towards the bend, and the men be hidden
+in the wood.  Med I ask, sir, if shouten would be any use?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We found it useful once, eh, Sherry?  Certainly; when
+you see the flag go up, the more noise you make the better,
+especially if you can make a din with garden tools, or
+anything of steel."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me, sir; I ha'n't served wi' a travellen show for
+nothen.  I'll show 'em the way, ay sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind, not a movement till you see the flag.  Now, to
+your places."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He returned once more to the house.  Adèle met him at
+the door.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done all you said.  Is there anything more that
+I can do?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mademoiselle! nothing, I think.  I wish to
+see Madame de Vaudrey now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They went together into the reception-room.  The
+general had recovered consciousness, and lay prone on
+the couch.  The doctor was at the window talking to
+Madame de Vaudrey, who was clearly in a state of
+intense agitation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Rochestair," she said as Harry entered,
+"have they sent help to us yet?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Madame, I fear there has scarcely been time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do? what shall we do?  I fear we shall
+all be ruined."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray calm yourself, Madame," said Harry quietly.
+"Doctor, is it possible to remove the general to another
+room?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not advise it.  He is comfortable; I hope he will
+sleep."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Meester, let us take him to the dining-room," said
+Adèle in Dutch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be a pity, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wish it, Monsieur?" she interrupted, turning
+to Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mademoiselle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he shall be removed.  Meester, be so good as to
+have the general removed at once.  The men can lift sofa
+and all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle herself called four men in from the front of the
+house, and the general was quickly carried across the hall
+into the dining-room.  Harry was left with the two ladies.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame," he said, "will you remain here with
+Mademoiselle?  Be seated; take up your needle-work; try to
+look as though there were nothing to fear."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I? how can I? when every moment I fear to
+see my house in flames."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mamma," said Adèle, "it is necessary.  Monsieur is
+planning to save us; we must help him.  Come, I will
+fetch your spinning-wheel.  Monsieur, we will do our
+best, I give my promise."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mademoiselle!  When the French arrive,
+an officer will enter; I will bring him in here; show no
+concern; leave the rest to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He went out, sent into the woods all the men who were
+still about the house save two of the dragoons, whom he
+placed in a cloak-room off the hall.  Then he ran up again
+to the roof.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Looking eagerly down the road, he caught sight of four
+horsemen approaching at a trot.  They were about a mile
+away.  Beyond them the road was concealed from view
+by a clump of trees.  He saw at a glance that Jacques
+had fulfilled his instructions to the letter.  Where half an
+hour before had been a bare field there was now what
+appeared to be a broad lake, with a solitary punt floating
+at about the middle of its surface.  Scanning the
+boundaries of the estate he failed to descry a single human
+figure.  He drew a long breath; all his preparations were
+complete; what would be the outcome?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The four riders were drawing nearer, and behind them
+he now saw the helmets and lances of the main body.
+They were as yet too far away for him to estimate their
+number.  Taking care to keep out of sight himself, he
+watched the patrol of four, and saw two of them dismount
+at the old barn and enter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They have left Monsieur de Polignac for the present,"
+he said to himself.  "I wonder why."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After a few minutes the two horsemen emerged from
+the building, remounted, and rode on with their
+companions.  Then Harry slipped down the stairs, instructed
+old Jean, who was trembling in the hall, to conduct to the
+reception-room any soldier who came to the door, and
+then walked quietly in and rejoined the ladies.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are coming?" said Adèle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes.  They will be here in a minute."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey gave a gasp and let her hands fall
+to her sides.  Adèle jumped up, slipped a skein of wool
+over her mother's hands, sat on a stool opposite her, and
+began to wind the wool into a ball.  A few seconds later
+the clatter of hoofs and the clank of sabres came from
+without.  Then a heavy tread was heard in the hall, and
+a loud voice called for the master of the house.  There
+was a moment's pause; Jean opened the door, stood on
+one side, and in a quavering voice announced:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, Monsieur demande——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His voice broke, he could say no more.  The ladies
+looked up, Madame de Vaudrey with pale cheeks and
+twitching lips, Adèle with unmoved countenance and
+stony stare.  After one glance she placidly resumed her
+winding; Harry, with his hands in his pockets, strolled
+over from the window.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my man, what do you want?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sergeant involuntarily saluted.  He looked by no
+means comfortable.  His eyes went from one to another
+of the silent group.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur—Mesdames——" he began; then, recovering
+his self-possession and putting on a swaggering air,
+he continued: "To resist is vain.  The commandant will
+decide.  I have warned you, Mesdames—Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very good of you," said Harry blandly.  "Your
+boots are marking the carpet; perhaps you will wait outside."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man's cheeks purpled; without another word he
+abruptly turned and went out.  At the front door he
+stationed two of his companions, and rode back to meet
+the advancing troop, the sounds of whose approach were
+now echoed from the surrounding woods.  From the window
+Harry saw the sergeant make his report to the officer
+at their head.  The commandant smiled and rode on.
+Two minutes later his spurs rang on the stone steps, and
+Jean showed him into the room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, voilà encore un visiteur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In obedience to a hint from Adèle, Madame de Vaudrey
+rose and made a curtsy.  Harry smiled as he saw Adèle's
+low mocking obeisance.  The officer doffed his cocked hat,
+laid it with both hands upon his heart, and bowed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame—Mademoiselle—Monsieur," he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was a tall, stout, florid man of some forty years,
+with large nose and bloated cheeks.  His costume was
+very rich, plentifully bedecked with gold lace and decorations,
+spick and span in all its appointments.  "More like
+a courtier than a soldier," was Harry's first impression.
+His few words of salutation had been uttered in a strong
+German accent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, Monsieur," he said, "I have the honour to
+be a colonel of dragoons in the service of his highness the
+Elector of Cologne, who, as you are doubtless aware, is in
+alliance with His Majesty of France.  I regret exceedingly
+to have to discommode you; it is a painful duty; but
+what would you?—war is war.  My duty, Madame,
+Monsieur, is to levy contributions on the enemy's country.
+Alas! that I am obliged to treat you, Madame, Monsieur,
+Mademoiselle, as enemies, but duty is duty.  Not for all
+the world would I render it more disagreeable than
+necessary to such charming ladies, and to your excellent son,
+Madame; but I must request you to hand over to me five
+thousand florins—that, I am sure, you will regard as a
+most modest estimate of the value of your delightful
+house.  I regret that I can allow only five minutes for
+the completion of this little transaction; in five minutes,
+Madame, Monsieur, with five thousand florins I pass on
+with my men.  It pains me to say it, but if the money,
+or its equivalent—in plate or jewels, Madame, what you
+please—is not forthcoming within five minutes, I must
+with the very greatest regret take what I can find and
+burn the place.  The notice is short, it is true; but
+Madame will understand; we soldiers have no time to
+spare, and my orders are positive; every house that is not
+ransomed is to be burned.  Ah!" he ejaculated as he
+caught sight through the window of smoke in the
+distance, "I fear my men have already set fire to your barn.
+It is an excess of zeal, but, as the proverb says, the
+appetite grows with eating; we have had to light many such
+bonfires of late!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This speech had been delivered with the greatest
+deference.  At its conclusion the colonel lugged out a big
+timepiece, and held it open in his left hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"From now five minutes, Madame, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey had listened with terror in her
+eyes.  She was beginning to speak, but Adèle called
+suddenly "Mamma!" in a warning tone, and the lady sank
+back in her chair, looking at Harry as he advanced a step
+or two towards the officer.  Harry's throat felt somewhat
+dry; his heart was thumping unpleasantly; but he was to
+all appearance perfectly self-possessed as he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle, will you see what can be done?" adding
+in an undertone the two words, "the flag!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle nodded.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur."  She curtsied to the officer as she
+went past him into the hall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Before discussing the amount of our contribution,
+Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry, "may I enquire by
+what right you make this demand?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer looked him up and down.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, you may enquire, Monsieur.  I answer: by
+the right of a hundred sabres, and the practice of war.
+In my turn, may I beg of you to let this explanation
+suffice.  Time presses.  But for the presence of
+Madame"—he bowed to Madame de Vaudrey—"I should have
+regarded your question as a mere impertinence, and
+treated it—and you—accordingly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey looked anxiously from one to the
+other, and heaved a sigh of relief as Adèle returned and
+resumed her seat by her mother's side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I marvel, Monsieur," said Harry, after a quick
+exchange of glances with the younger lady, "that a soldier
+of your rank and experience, acquainted with the practice
+of war, should, in your unfortunate position, permit
+himself such language."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Comment!  My unfortunate position!"  The big man
+swelled, his red cheeks empurpled.  Turning to the ladies
+he said: "Is the young man mad?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall judge, Monsieur," said Harry quietly.
+"Do me the favour to place yourself at the window."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had just caught sight of one of the colonel's dragoons
+galloping up the drive towards the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is one of your hundred sabres, I presume.  He
+is hastening to inform you that he has met Dutch troops
+belonging to General van Santen half a mile up the road.
+In the other direction—this way, Monsieur—you can just
+see our men barring your retreat.  You observed, no
+doubt, a canal on your left as you rode along; it is twenty
+feet deep; and if you will condescend to come to the back
+windows"—the captain followed him as in a daze—"you
+will see a large Dutch force occupying yonder woods,
+which, save the lake on our right, are your only line of
+retreat."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel's astonishment was no greater than Madame
+de Vaudrey's.  She rose from her chair and moved towards
+the window, but was checked by Adèle's restraining hand.
+The girl's eyes were shining, a spot of red burned on either
+cheek.  The colonel stared and stared at Harry, who stood
+with a slight smile upon his lips, at the ladies, at the
+figures which appeared among the trees beyond the wall—heads
+and shoulders, with cocked hats and red collars, and
+at every shoulder a musket.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Comment! comment!" he spluttered; then without
+another word he hurried from the room, followed by
+Harry, just in time to meet the dragoon at the outer door.
+The man saluted.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel," he said in a fluster, "there is a barricade
+at the bend in the road half a mile beyond us held by
+Dutch troops.  My comrade Gustave was knocked off his
+horse by——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Donnerwetter!" cried the colonel, relapsing into his
+native language.  He sprang heavily into his saddle on
+the charger held in waiting by one of his troopers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose, Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry carelessly
+at his elbow, "you are counting the cost of resistance?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer was looking anxiously and indecisively about
+him, clearly at a loss what course to take, but as clearly
+eager to make a fight of it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I must warn you, Monsieur," added Harry, "that the
+least resistance will rob you of all chance of quarter.  The
+whole countryside is roused to fury by the news of your
+exploits.  My general has with him not only his own men
+but a large force of peasants from the villages.  If it comes
+to a fight, he may not have the power, even if he had the
+inclination, to protect you from their vengeance.  They
+are barbarous in their methods, these peasants; but then,
+as you know, Monsieur, they have been provoked."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment there was a sharp report.  A cornet
+of the French horse, seeing the barricade of carts suddenly
+run across the road by the barn, had sent a party of his
+men back to investigate.  One of the troopers as they
+approached was shot from behind the barricade and fell
+from his horse.  The echo of the shot had hardly died
+away when there came two reports from the barricade up
+the road, accompanied by a faint shout.  The colonel
+gathered up the reins; a dragoon came galloping up
+the drive crying:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-106">
+<span id="mon-colonel-we-are-surrounded"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="&quot;Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!&quot;" src="images/img-165.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a
+ring fence.  It is for you to make your choice, and at once,
+between surrender and—annihilation."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had not misjudged his man.  Utterly bewildered,
+the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around
+him.  At the end of the drive his men could be seen
+rigid and expectant.  Behind him, beyond the wall, he
+saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed,
+and with all the advantage of position.  The sun,
+breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the
+distance, he could not be expected to recognize as
+bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements
+the premises had afforded.  At a little distance down the
+road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined
+the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body.
+Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow
+trot towards the gate.  Harry at once signed to the two
+Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and
+ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of
+the door.  The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse
+up on its haunches at the road end of the drive.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with
+a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force
+of the enemy.  We cannot estimate their numbers; they
+keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their
+fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink
+of the canal.  The lowness of the water and the height
+of the bank showed at a glance that any attempt to swim
+his horses across would be disastrous; they could never
+scramble up the opposite side.  The men might cross and
+crawl up, but a moment's reflection showed what the fate
+of a small body of men would be, retreating on foot through
+a hostile country.  The colonel looked down the road;
+the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts.  He
+had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well
+that the peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell
+into their power.  Wheeling round, he for the first time
+caught sight of the two Dutch soldiers standing behind
+Harry on the steps of the house.  This seemed to bring
+home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a
+curse he walked his horse slowly up the avenue.  Harry
+came forward to meet the scowling officer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the fortune of war, Monsieur.  I see you have
+chosen the wiser course.  You surrender to superior
+numbers.  I am authorized by my general to accept your
+surrender.  You will receive honourable treatment; he
+knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the
+peasants——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel tried to smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am concerned—I say it frankly—for the safety of my
+men.  With your troops,"—he shrugged—"we might
+take our chance; but your peasants, your burghers—parbleu! we
+know them; they are savages, they are tigers.
+To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my
+sword?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry
+Rochester, an Englishman at present in the—in the
+Dutch service; ultimately to General van Santen, to
+whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few
+minutes.  Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your
+men to ride up the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in
+front of the house, and fasten their horses to the garden
+palings behind.  Sergeant," he added, turning to one of
+the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and
+acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Baron von Schummelpincken."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered.
+Send a dozen men to take charge of the horses.  In twenty
+minutes we shall be in camp."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-battle-of-lindendaal"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Battle of Lindendaal</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Hitch—A Charge in Flank—Irregular Warfare—Called
+Off—A Suggestion—Compliments—Thanks—Adieux—Luck—After
+the Fair—A Triumph</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>To his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did
+his best to put a good face on the predicament in which he
+found himself.  He rode back to his men to inform them
+of the arrangement.  The moment he had gone, Adèle de
+Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what
+the uproar, the firing, means; shall I tell him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Mademoiselle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is as you please, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will say nothing, Monsieur."  She went into the
+house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind,
+through a gate in the wall, into the orchard and wood.
+In a few minutes he reappeared with his comrades, who
+came at a trot towards the house.  Their pace was
+leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at
+this moment was half-way up the avenue at the head of his
+troops, might have noticed that the horses' flanks were
+heaving violently.  The men had in fact galloped at full
+speed from the horns of the position in obedience to the
+sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response
+to a suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his
+way after them.  Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw
+up in line at right angles to the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring
+me one of the dragoons' horses."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the
+avenue.  Sherry stood by his side at the nearer end of
+the line of dragoons.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came
+to Harry and handed him his sword.  Harry politely
+returned it, a compliment which the officer courteously
+acknowledged.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement?
+Your men will pile arms in front of the house, file
+off to right and left, tie their horses to the palings, then
+pass round on foot to the rear of the house."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two
+up the drive and did his bidding with the precision of
+automata.  Events had crowded so thickly that he had scarcely
+had time to think; but now he could hardly sit still on his
+horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole scene
+over.  Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes;
+his arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in
+opposite directions was a precaution to divide the force; they
+began to pass behind the house one by one.  About half
+of the troop had thus piled their arms and fastened their
+horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first note
+of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself
+that almost by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch
+chimes was ended his ruse would have been completely
+successful, when a loud voice was heard from the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants
+and burghers.  It is a trick, a trick!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was an instant halt.  Harry's heart was in his
+mouth; Sherebiah muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties
+now!"  The colonel, his face aflame, spurred his horse
+from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing his
+sword, vociferated:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A moi! à moi!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Harry felt that all was lost.  But only
+for a moment, for in that instant he saw that with his
+handful of men in line he had the advantage of the troopers
+debouching two by two from the balustraded drive.
+Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!"
+and dashed straight at the enemy.  It was in the nick of
+time.  A few seconds later they would have been ready;
+at this precise moment they were awkwardly placed.  Half
+a dozen men of the nearer file were leading their horses
+towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted
+men were approaching from the drive, and eight files
+presented their flank to Harry's little force of ten.  As he
+charged, the dismounted men scattered like hares before
+him, and the sixteen armed troopers had barely time to
+wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his
+Dutchmen were upon them.  All the advantage of impetus
+and direct attack was with the Dutch.  Harry, grasping
+his sword, came full tilt upon a burly Alsatian.  Almost
+before he had realized it he had passed over the dragoon
+and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the
+man behind, had shortened his arm and thrust him through
+the shoulder.  The man dropped his sabre and fell from
+his horse, which wheeled round and plunged madly through
+the dismounted men on the farther side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing
+his horse up on its haunches, wrenched it round so that he
+might take stock of the new situation.  He found that
+the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck close to him,
+and with the readiness of old campaigners were already
+wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy.  A dozen
+men were on the ground, including the portly colonel;
+several horses were careering wildly through the small
+open space, impeding the movements of the dismounted
+men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of
+the porch.  The French troopers were still filing up the
+drive, but the sudden uproar had startled the horses.  The
+riders were too much occupied with their steeds and too
+closely packed to make effective use of their pistols; the
+one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one was hurt.
+But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to
+charge again and again until the peasants, summoned by
+the noise of the fray, could come to his assistance.  It was
+fortunate that the remainder of the enemy's troop could
+only debouch two by two from the drive; the stone
+balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying
+until they entered the open space in front of the house.
+Two horses that had been rolled over near the entrance to
+the drive were plunging and kicking, hindering the advance
+of the leading troopers, who were now being pressed by
+the men behind.  Once more the little band of Dutchmen
+hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and
+with the same result, though Harry was instinctively
+aware, when he again emerged from the mellay, that his
+followers were fewer in number.  Among them, however,
+he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a
+sword and pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from
+the palings, and was comporting himself as though, so far
+from being a man of peace, he had as much experience of
+warfare as any trooper present.  Two of Madame de
+Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and
+were holding at bay a group of the disarmed enemy who
+hovered round, trying to dash in and recover their arms.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw little of this, however.  He wheeled his horse
+once more to repeat the charge.  He was followed now by
+only six men; at least a dozen fresh troopers had debouched
+from the drive, but, like their comrades, they had not time
+to form before the dauntless seven were upon them.  The
+odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting
+through; the rest were checked.  Then ensued a series of
+fierce duels, the little group of Dutch being broken up and
+driven back by the weight of the files pressing through as
+rapidly as they might into the open space.  Harry, engaged
+with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the
+game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and
+thrusting; his opponent, fresh to the fight, closed with
+him, leant over his saddle, and tried to grip him by the
+throat.  At this moment there was a fierce shout, followed
+by a perfect babel of cries.  The trooper fell from his
+horse, transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword;
+and when Harry after a few seconds was able once more
+to take in what was happening, he saw the place thick
+with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the
+enemy from both balustrades.  Some had leapt on to the
+coping and were dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and
+their horses with sticks, hooks, scythes, and all kinds of
+strange implements; others were jabbing through the
+interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting,
+felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance.
+A panic seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted
+to the stables behind the house and barricaded themselves
+there; the last files of the dragoons threw down their arms
+and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah, Harry
+bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his
+lungs, to hold their hands.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A lull succeeded the turmoil.  A crowd of the Dutch
+were hastening towards the stables to burst open the
+doors and make short work of the men sheltered there.
+To them Harry galloped up.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van
+Santen.  The victory is ours.  We must await the general's
+orders."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by
+their young leader's mien, stood in sullen silence.  Harry
+rode back to the opening of the drive, stationed two of
+the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed the colonel, who,
+with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant against
+the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, 'twas not well done.  Your parole was given.
+But you are hurt; go to the house—you will find tendance
+there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on
+the scene, galloping up from behind the house.  Wheeling
+his horse in some surprise, Harry found himself face to
+face with Madame de Vaudrey's neighbour, Monsieur de
+Polignac.  He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth was
+twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in
+Madame de Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As you see, Monsieur—a skirmish," replied Harry.
+"We have captured a raiding-party—and doubtless saved
+your house from the flames."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But—but—do you not see your peril?  You are not a
+soldier; these men are not soldiers, the most of them; to
+wage war is for you quite irregular; if caught by the
+French—and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a general
+advance in this direction—you will all be hanged."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take my chance of that," said Harry.  "I thank
+you, nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah!  I counsel you to release your prisoners—without
+arms, it is understood—and send them back to their lines."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur.
+Would you care to repeat your advice to him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to
+speak, thought better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse,
+galloped away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly
+from its appearance a short half-hour before.  Thirty men,
+of whom twenty-four were French, lay killed or wounded,
+with a few horses.  The stone balustrades were broken in
+several places; the flower-beds were trampled; the gravel
+was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords, scabbards,
+pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry.  "Take the
+wounded to the outbuildings and attend to them; there is
+a doctor in the house.  A dozen of you take arms from
+the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock them up in
+the stables.  Sherebiah, I leave you in charge."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents,
+Harry followed the wounded colonel into the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," said Adèle, meeting him, "the general
+insists on seeing you.  He was with difficulty restrained
+from rising and taking part in the fray.  You are weary;
+a cup of wine will refresh you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him.
+Then he followed her into the dining-room.  The general
+frowned when he saw him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This is he, Monsieur," said Ad&lt;ble.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You, Monsieur!—Mademoiselle, a youth, a boy—absurd!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It has been my good fortune, Monsieur," said Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The general looked blank with astonishment.  He half-raised
+himself on his cushions, sinking back with a groan.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They would tell me nothing, save that the French were
+discomfited.  Explain, from the beginning."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave a rapid narrative of the late events.  He
+spoke always of "we", seeming to include Adèle, the
+general himself, and even Madame de Vaudrey, who had
+joined them, among those who had planned the ruse.
+Every now and then the general broke into his story with
+exclamations of surprise and pleasure and praise.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A daring, a clever scheme," he said as Harry concluded.
+"You are an Englishman, they tell me; a soldier,
+I presume?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur le General, I have not that honour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the army's loss.  You have shown great
+quickness, great skill, and no less courage.  I compliment
+you, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I did what I could, of course, Monsieur; but things
+would have ended very differently but for the peasants'
+bold attack at the last."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah!  I know them; they would have done nothing
+without a leader, but with a leader they will fight—yes,
+and well.  I doubt whether, in point of military honour,
+the French colonel—whom I will tax on the subject
+presently—did right to reassume command after he had
+yielded his sword; still, much may be forgiven him;
+naturally he was chagrined and perturbed; and he is
+moreover wounded, as I hear."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The general spoke with difficulty; he was very weak.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have saved your convoy; that is well.  You will
+wish to take it to Breda.  I fear I cannot move.  Madame
+la Comtesse, I shall be your patient for a time——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur, I am honoured," said the lady.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But the prisoners must be carried to Breda also.
+Monsieur, that duty—that honour—must be yours.  You
+have laid many under an obligation: Mynheer Grootz,
+your excellent employer; the garrison at Breda; Madame
+la Comtesse, whose house you have saved; and
+myself—especially myself, for without doubt you preserved me
+from capture, and in my wounded state capture might
+very well have finished me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope for your speedy recovery, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you.  Now, you will take six of my troopers
+with you; armed burghers will serve for the remainder of
+your escort.  I marvel that help has not ere this reached
+us from Breda; you will report to my aide-de-camp, whom
+you will doubtless meet there or on the road.  Your name,
+Monsieur, is——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry Rochester, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle will note it down for me.  My friend
+Mynheer Grootz will have a visit from me.  I am
+fatigued; Mademoiselle, a little cordial from your fair
+hand.  Monsieur, I bid you farewell."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry bowed and left the room, tingling with pleasure
+at the general's praise.  He went to the reception-room
+and gladly stretched his weary limbs on a low couch there.
+Madame de Vaudrey followed him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I thank you!" she exclaimed.  "I do thank
+you, from my heart, a thousand times.  How brave!  I
+trembled, I wept when I heard the horrid sounds; I could
+not look; Adèle looked and told me; I thought you
+would be killed; I was overcome, I could only pray.  Oh!
+Monsieur, what can I say?  I can say nothing; I can
+only—yes; tiens!  I kiss you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At another time Harry might have been embarrassed;
+he was now so tired that he could but accept passively all
+the motherly cares lavished on him by the comtesse.  She
+brought him food with her own hands, smoothed his hair,
+begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her
+admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of
+her late husband's to replace his own torn garment.
+Harry stood it all as long as he could; at last, parrying
+another kiss, he sprang up and declared it was time he
+set off with his prisoners and the convoy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five.
+The remainder were too badly wounded to be
+moved.  Gathering his escort, he had the stable door
+unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah
+to marshal the convoy.  All was at length ready.  It was
+half-past one when he stood at the door to take leave of
+Madame de Vaudrey.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said.  "Au revoir!—that
+is what I mean.  You will come and see us again?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing would delight me more, Madame."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for
+the tulip bulb; you will remember that? and yourself take
+the thanks of a mother and daughter.  Adèle!" she
+called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing.  Come and
+bid him farewell."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adèle, coming forward.  "I
+add my thanks to Mamma's for the great service you have
+done us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl's face; then,
+with a return to her wonted coldness, she said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur.  But I see there
+are still knights-errant in the world.  Adieu!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey's eyes as she
+put her arms up and kissed Harry on the cheek.  He
+bowed over her hand, then sprang on to the horse of one
+of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line of
+wagons and men already moving up the road.  As he
+reached them he had the impulse to turn for a last look
+at the chateau.  The turret was just visible above the
+tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure motionless.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose,"
+he thought.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adèle who
+stood there watching until he was out of sight.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his
+sturdy henchman as they rode side by side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, Master Harry, 'tis better to be born lucky
+nor rich.  But speaken for myself, I doan't zackly see
+there be much luck about it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! there is.  'Twas merely luck that Mynheer
+Grootz had to send me this way; mere luck that he had
+promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere luck that the
+French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck
+that the place lent itself so easily to a trick——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a
+headpiece; mere luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit
+a horse; mere luck that 'ee've got sojer's blood a-rompen
+through your veins.  Daze me, if all that be luck—well,
+Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal
+pies at all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, Sherry!  But confess, 'twas odd to come
+upon Captain Aglionby again, and in that house; what do
+you say to that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Say!  I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and
+we'll ha' to keep an eye on the villain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas
+well done, Sherry, to haul them down the stairs as
+you did.  What has become of the captain to-day, I
+wonder?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres.  I knows
+Cap'n, ay, I do."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards
+the prisoners wore a crest-fallen air.  Save for the
+colonel and his subalterns they all marched on foot, the
+horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often seen at
+English country fairs.  They had been marching for about
+an hour when the head of the convoy met General van
+Santen's aide-de-camp galloping at breakneck speed.
+He reined up when he noticed soldiers among the men.
+Harry cantered to his side.  Explanations were rapidly
+exchanged.  The Dutchman laughed heartily when he
+heard how the enemy had been fooled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have
+thought the general capable of such a stratagem."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had been there.  It would have been more
+fitting that I should take the prisoners to Breda than you,
+a sutler, I suppose you call yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think it necessary to call anybody names,
+Mynheer, myself least of all.  The general expected
+assistance; why has it not accompanied you, Mynheer?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer explained that on reaching Breda he had
+found that practically the whole garrison was engaged in
+a reconnaissance in force towards Antwerp, where General
+de Bedmar was showing signs of activity that gave the
+confederate generals some concern.  Only two troops of
+horse had been retained in the town, and these had strict
+orders not to leave the place.  Infantry would be of little
+use against the French raiders, and indeed it was
+impossible that they should reach Madame de Vaudrey's
+house in time.  The aide-de-camp had been accordingly
+provided with a fresh mount and sent on to the main
+body, from which a squadron had at once been detached.
+But the corps, when he overtook it, was a good ten miles
+beyond Breda, and the relief squadron could not start for
+the Helmund road until the afternoon.  It was now some
+twenty minutes behind the aide-de-camp, who had ridden
+forward to convey to the general the news of the coming
+reinforcement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He continued his journey, and Harry cantered on to
+overtake the convoy, which had moved on while the
+conversation took place.  Some minutes later a cloud of dust
+in the distance heralded the approaching force.  When the
+two bodies met, Harry had reluctantly to tell his story over
+again.  The commander of the squadron pressed him for
+more details than the general's aide-de-camp had done,
+and being a shrewd man he soon put two and two together.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The honour of the day is yours, my friend," he said
+to Harry, "and by my soul you shall ride into Breda at
+the head of the column."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry protested; he did not relish the idea of heading
+a sort of circus procession.  But the Dutchman insisted;
+General van Santen had laid the duty upon Harry, and he
+saw no reason to relieve him of it.  He sent a couple of
+his troopers on in advance to announce the event.  Thus it
+happened that when, in the dusk, Harry headed his convoy
+through the gates, he was met by a great concourse of the
+populace, men, women, and children huzzaing and waving
+hats and kerchiefs with vast enthusiasm.  All the pretty
+girls of the town, in their quaint bonnets and short skirts,
+pressed around the horse to see the young Englishman,
+and a comical little Dutch boy, with a toy drum slung
+over his shoulder, placed himself in front of Harry's horse
+and proudly tattooed him through the streets to the
+burgomaster's house.  The burgomaster himself made a very
+flowery speech of congratulation, to which Harry returned
+the best acknowledgment he could; and he was heartily
+glad when the tide of compliments ebbed and he had
+leisure to make formal delivery of his prisoners.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had not yet escaped, however.  He was resting
+in his inn when a messenger entered with an invitation
+to an impromptu banquet organized at the burgomaster's.
+In vain Harry pleaded that he was in no trim for fine
+company.  The burgomaster's own tailor undertook to
+make him presentable; he had to sit through a long Dutch
+feast and respond to the toast of his health.  Even then his
+labours were not ended.  After the banquet the company
+adjourned to the council chamber, where all the beauty
+of the town was assembled.  Harry had to lead off the
+dance with the burgomaster's wife, a stout vrouw of
+forty-five years and fifteen stone.  He did his duty manfully,
+dancing the stately dances of the day with unflagging
+spirit, and winning universal praise by the modesty with
+which he wore his honours.  The assembly broke up at
+a late hour; Harry was dog-tired, and went to bed
+convinced that it was mighty hard work to be a popular hero.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="harry-is-discharged"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Harry is Discharged</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Rheum and Rum—Gall—Without Ceremony—A Question of
+Precedence—Res Angustae—The Raw—To
+Scheveningen—Punctuality and Despatch—From the Dutch
+Side—Temptation—Renunciation—Gretel—Misgivings</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew!—confusion!  This pestilent country—atchew!—will
+be the death of me.  'Tis one eternal—-atchew!—rheum!
+Stap my vitals!  I wish I were dead.  Atchew! atchew!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Aglionby sat in the topmost room of a high
+house in one of the less savoury quarters of the Hague.
+His nose was redder than ever; his cheeks more puffed;
+his eyes looked like boiled oysters.  A thick woollen
+comforter swathed his neck.  Though it was the height of
+summer, a big log fire blazed in the hearth; window and
+door were fast shut; and in a temperature of something
+over eighty degrees the captain was doing his best,
+according to his lights, to cure a cold.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was seated at a table drawn close to the fire.  Upon
+the table stood a bottle nearly empty, a beaker, a basin of
+sugar, an inkhorn, a table-book of writing-paper, and a
+sheath containing quills.  A kettle sang on the fire.  When
+his sneezing fit was over, the captain poured the last of
+his rum into the beaker, sugared it, filled up with boiling
+water, and gulped half of the mixture into a throat inured
+to fiery passengers.  Water streamed from his eyes, and
+his blotched brow broke into a profuse perspiration.  He
+wiped his face with a large red handkerchief, smacked his
+lips, and, bending over the table, selected a quill.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang writing!" he muttered.  "I never writ a letter
+but I rued it.  Atchew!  And with this cursed cold!
+Well, the sooner begun, the sooner done; so here's to it.
+Atchew!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He cut his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">"Mr. BARKLEY.  Sir."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that
+the captain was not a practised penman.  He wrote very
+laboriously, frowning at every stroke, and licking his lips
+often.  Like most illiterate people, he repeated half aloud
+the words as he wrote them, and being so unused to
+giving visible expression to his thoughts, he commented
+as he went along.  He was never at a loss how to spell
+a word, for in those days men spelt as they pleased, and
+bad spelling might almost have been regarded as one of
+the marks of a gentleman.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Sir.  This will, I hope, finde you well.  For myself, I am
+afflicted [atchew!] with a voilent Rheum, the wch I feare will
+turne to an inflamatn of the Longs.  [Egad! that'll please the
+old niggard!]  I command the sarvices of the best Potticary
+in the place, but finding his nostrums vain, for three dayes have
+eate nought but Water Gruel.  'Tis said that Rumm is a speedie
+Cure, but that I eschew.  [Atchew!]  My Hande shakes with
+the feaver, &amp; I shd not rite to you now had I not Surprizing
+Nuse to give.  You must knowe that, visitting at the house of
+Mme de Vodray, where your he sarvant is ever an honour'd
+guest, [that's worth fifty guineas to me!] what was my vaste
+Amazement to finde there that yonge Cockerell H—— R——
+swaggering it as one of the beste.  It passes my wit to divine
+how he escap'd from the </span><em class="italics">Merrie Maide</em><span>, &amp; hope y may recover
+the Passage Money, the wch methinks will be difficult.  [Atchew!
+He won't get a penny o't.]  'Tis passing strange the boy is
+here, not lesse that he is acquaint with the Vodrays; &amp; moreover
+with him is my pestilent cozn S—— M——, of whom more hereafter,
+'twill be easie to deal with him, whereto I have already
+things </span><em class="italics">in Traine</em><span>.  H—— R—— is employ'd with one Grootz,
+a merchant of Substance, &amp; one that hath large Contracks with
+the confederate armies.  The boy being out of yr way, y have
+belike no further cause against him, &amp; wd wish no further stepps
+taken, comming &amp; going is like at any time to Cooke his Goose,
+but if I mistake in this 'twould be well to sende 100 Guineas by
+the same Hande as wont, &amp; I wd endevour to bring the matter to
+a safe and speedie End, in wch case I wd make bold to aske for a
+further Summe of 200 Guineas for to requite my Zeale in the
+sarvice of my honour'd Frende &amp; Patron."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew!  Writing is plaguily dry work," he muttered,
+breaking off at this point, "and the bottle's empty."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He tugged at a bell-pull, and resumed his letter.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Twill be no light Taske, seeing the yonge man hath captured
+of late a Partie of above 100 French in an Affaire near Breda, the
+wch I doubte not will give him some Consekence with the Dutch
+no less than himselfe, of the wch Affaire 'tis like an Account will
+be printed in the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>.  [Sure 'twill give Nick a start.]  I
+must add that Living is </span><em class="italics">verie Deare</em><span> here.  For my Creditt sake
+and the furtherance of youre Ends, I have hired a Magnifficent
+Appartment, for the wch I have to paye a sweete Rent.  Hence it
+is verie nessessarie I have the Guineas without delai.  Waiting
+yr commands &amp; so subscribe myself yr ever humble and obediant</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>RALPH AGLIONBY, Captain."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Atchew!  There, 'tis done, and writ fair."  He flung
+his pen on the table.  "And I'd fain know what the squire
+has against the knave; 'tis more than pique, I promise
+you.  Where's Simmons, confound him!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sanded the wet paper, folded it, sealed it with yellow
+wax, and wrote the superscription:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">For Nicolas Barkley Esqre</em></dt>
+<dd><dl class="docutils first last">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">at his house</em></dt>
+<dd><dl class="docutils first last">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">Winton St. Mary</em></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">nr Salisbury, England</em></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>This done, he tugged again at the bell-pull, blew his nose
+with sounding ferocity, and stuck his legs into the hearth
+with the air of a man who had successfully achieved a
+stupendous task.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened, and John Simmons entered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang you, sirrah! why don't you answer my bell at
+the very moment, sir?  Go get me a bottle of rum."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons, pallid, frowsy, scared-looking, stood hesitating
+in the doorway.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you deaf, clodpoll?" roared the captain.  "A
+bottle of rum, and instantly!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Captain, and the—and the money, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The money, you dog!  Where is the crown-piece I
+gave you this morning?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I had to buy the dinner, sir, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds!  You'll answer me, will you?  You're the
+most pestilent knave man ever had to serve him.  'Tis
+money, money, all day with you.  Would that Sherry
+Minshull had left you to the hangman!  Begone,
+sirrah! and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon!" said a voice in French from the door.  "If
+I am in the way——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in, Monsieur," said Aglionby, springing to his
+feet.  "And you, booby, be off and do my bidding."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons vanished precipitately.  Monsieur de Polignac
+gasped as he entered the overheated room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Phew!  It would roast an ox."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut the door.  I am nursing a pestilent rheum."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So it appears.  You are in an ill humour, my friend;
+I fear my news will not cheer you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Spit it out and have done with it, then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this is it.  A commission has been made out,
+I hear, appointing your young Englishman a cornet in the
+Anspach dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What young Englishman?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The young man whom we met at Madame de Vaudrey's."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain swore a hearty British oath.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where learnt you that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A la bonne heure!  It is true.  I have it on authority
+I cannot doubt.  Van Santen pressed it; his influence
+prevailed.  There were several vacancies in the regiment; it
+lost heavily in the action at Eckeren a few weeks ago.
+This boy gets the senior cornetcy.  We owe it to
+ourselves, Monsieur le Capitaine, that the junior cornets get
+an early step."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Peste!  We do owe it to ourselves; or, I should rather
+say, we owe it to yourself.  For me, I have knocked about
+the world too long to take umbrage easily; and look you,
+Monsieur, my family, although gentle, indeed I may say
+noble, cannot compare with yours in quartet-ings and such
+fal-lals.  I understand your sentiments; as you say,
+something must be done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And at once, for which end I have come to see you.
+My position, as you perceive, is delicate; for myself, I
+would seek a quarrel with the bantling and spit him on
+my rapier without remorse.  But affairs of state—you
+understand me; that alters the case.  I must not appear.
+I propose to you this: to affront the boy, provoke him to
+a duel; you a veteran, he a tyro; it will be a matter of
+seconds.  Voilà!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain gazed steadily at Polignac for a few
+moments, then said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look you, Polignac, no man ever accused Ralph
+Aglionby, late captain in the Preobrashenski Grenadiers, of
+lack of courage—no man, that is to say, that lived to tell
+of it.  Had you made the proposition twenty years ago,
+I should by this time have been half-way down the stairs
+on the way to kill this young springald.  But twenty
+years make a difference.  My courage is the same, look
+you; but the years have enlarged my girth—and my
+discretion.  On the point of honour I am as sensitive as ever
+I was, but I have learnt to have patience—and consideration.
+Say I engage this peddling fool; what happens?  I
+kill him and baulk you of your revenge.  Where are you,
+my friend?  Or suppose, by some vile contrivance, he kills
+me; where am I?  No, no, Monsieur; the right of place
+belongs to you.  Who am I, a broken soldier, a poor
+unnecessary captain of grenadiers, to take precedence of
+you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have most admirable patience," sneered Polignac,
+"and I am overwhelmed by your consideration.  I thank
+you, Monsieur le Capitaine, and bid you adieu."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, my friend; why this haste?  I have consideration,
+as you say.  Would the world be better for the loss
+of you or me? are there not more ways of getting even
+with a man than making one's self a target for his pistol
+or a sheath for his sword?  You remember Marillier, and
+Aubin, eh?  Sit down, and let us talk this over like
+reasonable men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac sat on one of the rickety chairs in silence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your memory is jogged, eh?  You remember the dark
+lane, and the light in the window, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough!" exclaimed the other impatiently.  "My
+memory is as good as yours.  This is different.  I must
+be circumspect.  Were we in Paris—then!  But here at
+the Hague, I am not my own master; I have weightier
+interests to consider.  An incautious step, even a chance
+word, may ruin a dynasty.  My own life—I do not consider
+it; but when one is playing for a crown one has duties,
+responsibilities.  If you see your way—well, I am not
+one to dissuade you; and if a few guilders——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's red eyes gleamed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Monsieur, as you put it so, I own 'tis in a
+measure a question of money.  In truth 'tis desperate hard
+lines that I, who have ruffled it with the best and got drunk
+with the Czar of Muscovy himself, should be so hard
+driven as that I cannot offer due hospitality to a friend.
+Look at this wretched lodging; was ever gentleman, by
+no fault of his own, mark you, reduced to such straits!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, glancing at the mean furniture and the empty
+bottle, agreeably assented, but concealed a smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "might I ask leave to send out for
+a bottle of wine?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby jumped up with alacrity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You say so?  'Tis the mark of a true friend."  He pulled
+hard at the bell-rope.  "My man will be here instantly;
+and, Monsieur, let it be sack—sack, as you love me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons reappeared without delay, and was despatched
+for a bottle of sack.  With the energy of pleasurable
+anticipation the captain pursued:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, my dear Polignac, mark—before attempting the
+house 'tis well to poison the dog; aha! that is only my
+way of putting it, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course.  A figure of speech; but from the life!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby flung him a suspicious glance; at times he had
+an uneasy feeling that Polignac was quizzing him.  But
+after a momentary pause he went on as before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The dog in this case—and a low cur it is—is the
+young cockerel's servant—the same that embraced you so
+cordially at Madame de Vaudrey's.  Ha! ha!  I can relish
+the comical side of it e'en though he embraced me
+also!—and before the charming mademoiselle too!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He guffawed uproariously.  He felt that he was now getting
+tit for tat for Polignac's covert sneers, often rather
+suspected than understood.  But he was not a little startled
+by the effect of his words and laughter.  Polignac flushed
+purple with rage; his mouth took a very decided twist
+towards his left eye.  Springing up suddenly he cried:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Morbleu, Monsieur, a truce to your pleasantries! and
+keep the lady's name out of it, or by the——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No offence, no offence, my dear fellow," interposed
+the captain hastily.  "I'm but a plain soldier—just an
+honest, bluff, outspoken old campaigner; we blades don't
+pick and choose our words like you fine gentlemen of the
+courts; though in truth when I was in Russia my manners
+were as good as the best."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac resumed his seat reluctantly without a word.
+After a short, strained silence Aglionby went on:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The first thing, as I was saying, is to get this dog
+out of the way.  Burn him! he follows his master like a
+shadow.  The man removed, the rest is easy.  A week
+from now, and he shall lie his length in six feet of good
+Dutch soil, or my name isn't Ralph Montacute Aglionby.
+Leave it to me, Monsieur; there will be necessary
+expenses; say fifty guilders, a small sum, and at one
+time——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Send to my chambers; you shall have the money.
+And by the way, here is a packet for Captain Rudge of
+the </span><em class="italics">Skylark</em><span>.  He sails with this evening's tide.  Bid him
+have the greatest care of it; should he run into danger he
+must destroy it.—It is arranged, then?  I shall hear from
+you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Within a week, on the word of a gentleman."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for the time, adieu!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Polignac had gone, Aglionby looked curiously at
+the packet entrusted to him.  The address ran:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<dl class="docutils">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">For Mistress Consterdine</em></dt>
+<dd><dl class="docutils first last">
+<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics small">to be left at the coffee-house,</em></dt>
+<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">by the Cockpitt, Whitehall, London.</em></p>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+</dd>
+</dl>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>It was carefully but not conspicuously sealed.  The captain
+turned it over and over in his dirty hands; they itched
+to open it.  "To judge by his rage," he muttered, "he's
+certainly smit with Mademoiselle de Vaudrey.  'Tis not
+merely his interest is engaged."  He sat musing for a
+moment.  Then his eye fell on a broadsheet, marked with
+many circular stains, that lay on one of the chairs.  He
+took it up and searched for a passage which he had clearly
+already read.  Lighting upon it, he read:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"The report goes that Coy's Horse embark at Harwich for
+Ostend on Friday the 16th current.  They will join the forces
+now operating under General Lumley in Dutch Flanders."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"With a fair wind they'll make port to-morrow.  Then,
+Sherebiah Minshull, my sweet coz, we shall begin to
+square accounts,—you and I."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Stuffing the two packets into his capacious pocket, he
+clapped on his hat, flung a cloak over his shoulders,
+wound the comforter more tightly about his neck, and
+made his way out, sneezing half a dozen times as he
+met the cooler air of the street.  He walked along the
+Lange Pooten, the chief business thoroughfare, into an
+open space known as the Plein.  As he was crossing this
+he caught sight of a figure hastening into one of the
+larger houses, and almost involuntarily he stepped aside
+into a doorway until all danger of being seen was past.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the puppy doing here?" he muttered, passing
+on his way to the old road to Scheveningen.  After a
+pleasant woodland walk of two miles he reached that little
+fishing village, and found, as he expected, Captain Rudge,
+owner and skipper of the sloop </span><em class="italics">Skylark</em><span>, a fast sailer which
+ran to and fro between Scheveningen and Harwich.  To
+him Aglionby confided his own letter and Polignac's.
+Then he retraced his steps, and at the Hague took horse
+for Rotterdam.  It was near midnight when he returned
+and wearily climbed the lofty stair to his attic room; but
+though he was fatigued, and his cold perceptibly worse,
+he seemed well satisfied with himself, and chuckled many
+a time before he had drained to the dregs the bottle of
+sack he had broached with Monsieur de Polignac.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The person from whose sight he had shrunk in the
+afternoon was Harry Rochester himself, who had just
+returned from a visit to Marlborough's camp at Hanneff.
+Mynheer Grootz was up to his eyes in business, and the
+wide area over which the confederate forces were spread
+taxed his resources to the utmost.  He had now come to
+the Hague to confer with a committee of the States
+General and arrange further contracts, and had instructed
+Harry to meet him there on the completion of his own
+errand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my boy," said Grootz on his arrival, "I did not
+expect you zo zoon."  They were now on such friendly
+and familiar terms that the Dutchman had dropped the
+formal address.  "How have you fared?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellently, Mynheer," replied Harry.  "The
+commissary was well content with your arrangements, and
+said—'tis no harm to repeat it—that were all Dutchmen
+like Jan Grootz he would be spared a peck of trouble."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is goot," said Grootz, evidently well pleased.
+"Dat is how I do my business; always in time, always
+ready, always sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I had hoped to catch a glimpse of my lord Marlborough
+himself, but 'twas not to be.  Whatever may be
+said of his meanness and selfishness, Mynheer, 'tis certain
+he is adored by his army.  The soldiers are full of courage,
+confident in my lord's genius, and all afire to meet the
+French.  They say, indeed, that if my lord were but free
+of restraint, not bound to take counsel with your
+politicians here, one campaign would see the end of the war."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dey zay!—Yes, well, it may be zo.  My lord is a fine
+soldier—none would deny it—for all he dink little of de
+rules of war.  But as for de field deputies—my
+countrymen—dey alzo have reason.  To Lord Marlborough and you
+English, my boy, a defeat mean much; dat is zo; but
+to my country—ah! much more.  To us it mean ruin,
+every village and town overrun, our polders spoiled, our
+homes destroyed, everywhere black misery.  Dis poor
+country know it all too well; we have suffered—ah yes! we
+have suffered before too often.  For my lord, it is a
+game wherein he can noding lose but glory; for us it is
+a struggle of life and death.  True, for myself, I zay in
+war, as in business, to follow a bold course is best; but I
+do not derefore blame our statesmen dat dey move zlowly;
+no, I do not blame dem."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had seen more than once lately that beneath the
+stolid exterior of the merchant beat a heart warm toward
+his fatherland and his friends.  He could not but recognize
+much to sympathize with in the Dutch point of view, and
+began to realize what it meant to the Hollanders to have
+their country turned into a cockpit for the political
+contentions of rival monarchs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A slight pause followed Grootz's earnest speech; then
+suddenly, with a change of tone, he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mynheer Harry, I have a ding to zay.  Dere are
+reasons why I find it now necessary to discharge you from
+my business."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gasped and looked very blank.  The merchant
+nodded solemnly; up came his fat forefinger; and he
+continued with even more deliberation than usual:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is zo.  I tell you dis; I find no fault wid you;
+none in de world; but all de same, I zay dat it is necessary
+you go."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was so much taken aback that he found it difficult
+to speak.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—'tis sudden—what can—surely—" his tongue
+stumbled over half a dozen questions before, with an effort
+to command himself, he said: "Of course, Mynheer, if
+there is nothing more for me to do, I must perforce seek
+other work.  You have been very kind to me; 'tis but poor
+thanks I can give you for what you have done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What I have done!  Gunst! it is noding.  And you:
+it needs not to zeek oder work; it is found.  Hearken
+to dis."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He took up an official-looking paper that lay at his hand
+and read in Dutch:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Mynheer Henry Rochester is appointed to a cornetcy in the
+Anspach dragoons in succession to Mynheer Lodewyk van
+Monnen deceased."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry flushed to the eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a mistake, Mynheer, surely.  I have not sought
+this; I know nothing of it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A mistake!  Not at all.  General van Santen come
+to me and zay, 'Grootz, you have in your business a
+young man dat has no business to be in your business; he
+is a soldier, noding less, and we have need of such;' dat
+is what he zay, and more, and he go straight off to put
+down your name for a commission.  And here it is, in de
+gazette.  Dat is why I discharge you, before—" (Mynheer
+Grootz made a brave attempt to be jocular)—"before you
+discharge yourself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was silent.  His nerves were tingling, his blood
+sang in his veins.  Here was the opening to a career after
+his own heart.  All his earlier longings came back to him;
+the inward struggle with which he had acquiesced in his
+father's desire that he should enter the Church; the light
+of hope that shone on him at his interview with Marlborough;
+the agonizing dissolution of his castle in the air.
+And now, unsought, what he had sought in vain had come
+to him, the aspiration of his boyhood was about to be
+fulfilled.  All this flashed through his mind in a moment of
+time,—and there was Jan Grootz, smiling out of his kindly
+little eyes.  Jan Grootz!—what he owed to him!  But for
+Jan Grootz he might now be a hapless slave in the Plantations,
+with no ray of light upon the endless vista of the
+years.  To Jan Grootz he owed his health and freedom,
+his training in dealing with men; more than all, he had
+met in Jan Grootz a man whose character compelled his
+respect and admiration, and whom indeed he had begun to
+love.  Would it not be the worst of ingratitude to leave
+him now?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The temptation was strong, the inward struggle sharp.
+But it was only a few moments after the staggering
+announcement when he bent forward and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mynheer, I cannot accept this offer—this splendid
+offer.  'Tis exceeding kind of General van Santen; I owe
+him my hearty thanks; but 'tis not to be thought of, save
+you yourself wish to be rid of me, and that I must doubt,
+since 'tis but a week since you told me I was useful to you.
+I will see the general, and explain to him the reason why I
+decline this commission; I must do so at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He made towards the door, as though eager to avoid
+dalliance.  Grootz's broad plain face was transfigured by
+delight and pride and gratification.  Catching Harry by
+the arm, he drew him back, laid his hand on his shoulder,
+and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Harry, my dear lad, I tell you dis; you must not
+do dis ding.  I do not zay I shall not feel your
+loss"—there was an unusual note of tenderness in his
+voice—"true, it is not long dat we have worked togeder, but
+already I regard you—jawohl, regard you as a son, and to
+miss your bright face, your willing service——hoot! by
+den donder, I am not myself to-day."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis too kind of you, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay; I am not zo weak.  I am at one wid
+General van Santen: you are made for a soldier.  'Tis
+de work you yourself would have chosen; now 'tis de
+tide of fortune, dat you dare not miss.  I tell you dis; I
+am made up in my mind, fixed, noding can move me.
+I salute you, Mynheer Rochester, cornet in de Anspach
+dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, 'tis too good of you, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not zo.  And dis I tell you alzo.  You know me, Jan
+Grootz; I prosper—God prospers me.  I regard you as
+my son: well, 'tis a fader's pleasure to provide for his son
+at de beginning of dings, just as 'tis a skipper's pleasure
+to zee his ship sail taut and trim.  You will have heavy
+charges: clothes, equipment, a horse to buy.  Dose
+charges, you will permit me, zall be mine.  'Tis but
+right you should take your place wid de best.  I have
+no kith nor kin, nor like to have; de pay for dragoons
+is little enough; I add a hundred guilders a month; dat
+will suffice, dink you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Mynheer——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Poof! no buts.  I zall do as please me.  Now, I am
+hungry: let us go to de parlour.  And dere is your man
+to tell; he will, no doubt, continue to be your servant."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They went from the room, Grootz keeping his hand
+affectionately on Harry's shoulder.  The table in the
+parlour was already laid, and in answer to the bell old
+Gretel appeared with a tureen of soup.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gretel," said the merchant, "Mynheer Harry is about
+to leave us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There!  Something inside told me, Mynheer, you
+would not keep him long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not of my own will, Gretel," said Harry at once.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," added Grootz.  "The lad was not eager.  He is
+to be an officer of dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman curtsied and grunted.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A rare exchange!" she said.  "To my mind 'tis better
+to sell corn than to stand up to be shot at, and a deal safer.
+But I wish you good luck, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Gretel, for that and for all your kindness to
+me.  Is Sherry downstairs?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, Mynheer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Send him up, if you please.  I must tell him the news."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! he will not be pleased.  He has a scorn of soldiers,
+never a good word to say for them.  He is in the right."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled as the privileged old housekeeper hobbled
+out.  Sherebiah soon appeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry," said Harry, "I have a thing to tell you.
+General van Santen has recommended me to the heads of
+the Dutch army, and I am made an officer of dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks!" was the man's astonished exclamation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall still be together, you and I.  I shall want a
+man, of course; and you will not object to the place?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir," said Sherebiah slowly, looking down at his
+boots, "'tis an awk'ard matter for a man o' peace.  'Tis a
+line o' life I ha' no love for.  To be sarvant to a man o'
+war is next to bein' a man o' war yourself.  Not but what
+I'd be proud to sarve 'ee, Master Harry; no man more; but
+them as take the sword shall fall by the sword, as the
+Book says, and I take that for a warnen to have none
+on 't."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A lame argument, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, sir, haven no larnen I feel it so.  And will 'ee
+go shoulder to shoulder with our English sojers?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a note of anxiety in his voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That I can't say.  I hope that my regiment won't be
+left out in the cold."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, there's a providence in't.  Them above
+knows what they're about, to be sure, in a general way,
+and I bean't agwine to set up for knowen better.  I'll
+sarve 'ee, sir, polish your breastplate, currycomb your
+horse, oil your boots, clean your pistols, keep an eye on
+the sutlers, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to have a good notion of your new duties,"
+said Harry, laughing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty good, sir, for a man o' peace," said Sherebiah
+imperturbably.  "And when do 'ee mount your horse as a
+sojer, Master Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zoon," put in Grootz.  "General van Santen himself
+will introduce him to his broder officers; he tell me zo."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, so.  Well, 'tis a world o' changes.  For you, sir,
+'tis a change for the better, barren 'ee bean't killed; for
+me,—well, the truth on't is, I fear 'tis the beginnen o' the
+end for Sherebiah Stand-up-and-Bless."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-sherebiah"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Concerning Sherebiah</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Summons—Coy's Horse—Vain Search—A
+Clue—Sentenced—Confession—A Quiet Mind—A Friend
+in Camp—The Informer—Intercession—Who Goes
+There?—Hit—The Mantle of Night—In a Ditch</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>One evening, a few days after he had received news of his
+commission, Harry returned home somewhat later than
+usual from his customary stroll.  He was fond of walking
+through the pleasant woods to Scheveningen, and watching
+the herring-boats as they sailed out for the night's
+work.  He would chat with the fishermen, and had indeed
+by his frank manner, and perhaps an occasional gift of
+tobacco, established himself as a favourite with them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On this evening, feeling a little tired, he threw himself
+into a chair in the parlour, and sat musing, gazing into the
+glowing sky as the sun went down.  By and by old Gretel
+entered and began to lay the supper.  She had gone in
+and out two or three times in silence before Harry
+bethought himself and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Gretel, how is it Sherry is not helping you to-night?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By den donder, Mynheer, you may well ask!  He
+seems bewitched since the great news.  Not half so helpful
+to my poor old bones as he was."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But where is he?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not returned yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Returned from where?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Mynheer, he went out at once after receiving
+your message, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My message!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, Mynheer, the message sent by the boy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What boy?  Come, Gretel, I sent no message.  I
+know nothing about a boy.  Tell me all you know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It was about four o'clock, Mynheer, a boy of twelve or
+so came to the door—a stranger to me.  He asked for
+Sherry Minshull—no mynheer to his tongue.  I called to
+Sherry, and heard the boy say, 'Mynheer Rochester wishes
+you to come——' then the big bell of the Groote Kerk
+tolled, and I heard no more.  But Sherry reached down
+his hat and said he was going to you, and he and the
+boy went away together."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was puzzled, and a little uneasy.  He rose from
+his chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure you heard the boy mention my name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite sure.  And Sherry must have thought there was
+need for haste, for he left his dish of coffee half full, and
+he is too fond of mocha to do that without a reason."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Just then Mynheer Grootz came in to supper.  When
+Harry had informed him of the strange message and
+Sherebiah's continued absence, he was at first disposed to
+make light of the matter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gretel is growing hard of hearing," he said.  "Maybe
+she mistook de name."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think, Mynheer, 'twould be well to make
+enquiry before it is dark?  I am strangely uneasy about
+Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The merchant consented to accompany Harry into the
+streets.  Everybody knew him and answered his questions
+readily enough; but none of the porters of the neighbouring
+houses, or the watchmen who patrolled the streets, had
+seen Sherebiah or the boy, though some of them owned
+that they knew the former well by sight.  By and by,
+however, they came upon an old soldier smoking his evening
+pipe outside his cottage—the lodge to one of the larger
+houses in Gedempte Spui.  Grootz put the usual question.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you see an Englishman—stout, with a beard, and
+his hat on one side, pass by a few hours ago with a boy of
+twelve or thereabouts?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The soldier removed his long pipe, spat, and appeared to
+meditate before replying.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—now I think of it; I believe I did see a man of
+that cut, though I would not be sure.  He might not have
+been an Englishman.  He was stout, certainly, and had a
+beard; as for his hat, I didn't notice it, for the truth is, I
+had been looking at some other Englishmen, a party of
+Coy's Horse; my old corps served side by side with them in
+'97.  Yes, and there was a man among them I knew too;
+a paymaster—Robins, I mind, was his name—donder! what
+a temper he had!  It was a curse and a blow with
+him.  Ay, it is a hard life, the soldier's.  They halted at
+the inn over by there, and I was just going over to drink
+a glass with them for old times' sake when the Baron's
+coach came up and I had to open the gates.  A lodge-keeper,
+see you, is a sentry with no change of guard."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja!  But the Englishman and the boy—which way
+did they go?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way?  Let me see.  They might have gone
+down the road: no, now I bethink me, I believe they went
+up the road; but there, I can't be sure.  The sight of the
+English horse, men I fought side by side with in '97, before
+I got my wound——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja, ja!  Thank you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They escaped his further reminiscences by walking on,
+past the inn, past a row of cottages with the inevitable
+bright green shutters, until they came to the watch-house
+at the cross-roads.  Grootz put the same question to the
+watchman.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he replied.  "I saw no Englishman with a boy.
+But I saw a party of English horse; they had come in
+from Rotterdam, and I heard afterwards at the inn they
+were on the track of a deserter."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was now almost dark; to continue the search further
+would be vain.  They returned home to their belated supper,
+Grootz promising to set exhaustive enquiries on foot in the
+morning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That night, for the first time for many months, Harry
+was unable to sleep.  He was oppressed by perplexity and
+uneasiness.  From whatever point of view he looked at
+Sherebiah's disappearance it seemed equally inexplicable.
+He could divine no motive for a message sent to Sherebiah
+in his name; the man appeared to be on very good terms
+with Dutchmen and was unlikely to have private enemies.
+Harry was almost forced to the conclusion that Gretel had
+been mistaken, after all, and that Sherebiah would by and
+by return with a simple explanation of his absence.  He
+might have met a friend, and be spending a convivial
+evening with him.  Perhaps—the thought came like an
+illumination—one of the English troopers from Rotterdam
+was a friend of his—a Wiltshire man, possibly.  The
+suggestion allayed his uneasiness, and he fell asleep half
+expecting to be called by Sherebiah as usual next morning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Sherebiah did not return that night.  It happened
+next day that Mynheer Grootz was early summoned to a
+conference with a committee of the States General, and
+when after a prolonged discussion he was released he had
+to start at once for Leyden on important business.  It was
+late before he returned.  Harry meanwhile had lost no
+time in pursuing enquiries in every likely quarter, but in
+vain.  Sherebiah had not returned; nothing had been
+heard of him; and there was nothing for it but to wait
+yet another day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was again wakeful, and his thoughts turned to the
+errand on which the party of English horse had come.  He
+pitied the unfortunate wretch for whom they were in
+search—some poor fellow, perhaps, who had escaped in
+the hope that he would be less easily tracked in a foreign
+land.  The punishment for desertion had become much more
+stringent and summary of late owing to the prevalence of
+the offence.  Harry himself remembered one bleak morning
+in London when, having gone early into Hyde Park, he
+had been the unwilling spectator of the shooting of a
+deserter.  Had they caught the man?  he wondered.  "I
+hope——" he thought, then suddenly a strange suspicion
+flashed upon him.  Surely it was impossible; yet——  In a
+moment slumbering recollections awoke.  He remembered
+that many times, when approaching English soldiers in
+London, Sherebiah had sidled away and disappeared.  He
+remembered how, more than once, Sherry had shown a
+knowledge of military matters singularly intimate for a
+civilian; how insistently he had always proclaimed himself
+a man of peace; how hardily he had behaved in the fight
+at Lindendaal.  These facts, and many a slight hint
+scarcely regarded before, combined to convert a chance
+surmise, almost dismissed as absurd, into a strong
+presumption little short of certainty.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang out of bed, dressed quickly, ran downstairs
+with his slippers in his hands, and, noiselessly drawing the
+bolts, hurried along the silent street towards the inn on the
+Rotterdam Road at which the patrol had halted.  Though
+it was late, the people of the inn were still up.  He asked
+for the landlord, and had not conversed with him for more
+than a minute before he was convinced, from what was
+said of the prisoner, that it was indeed Sherebiah.  The
+troopers had brought with them a led horse; on this they
+had mounted the deserter, strapping him on each side to
+a dragoon, and then ridden off at once towards Rotterdam,
+</span><em class="italics">en route</em><span> for Breda.  Returning to the house, Harry woke
+Mynheer Grootz, told him of what he had learnt, and
+proposed to start at once for Breda to allay or confirm his
+suspicion.  From this the merchant dissuaded him.  A
+night ride would be attended with difficulty and danger;
+if he started early in the morning, he might still overtake
+the dragoons before they reached Breda.  Accordingly he
+went back to bed for a few hours.  At dawn he rose,
+and by five o'clock was galloping towards Rotterdam on
+the best horse in Grootz's stables.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At Rotterdam he learnt that a body of English horse,
+consisting of units of several regiments, had left for Breda
+on the previous afternoon.  Waiting for an hour to rest
+and bait his horse he pushed on to Breda, arriving there
+about one o'clock in the afternoon.  Without delay he
+sought out the officer to whom he had delivered his convoy
+of provisions a few weeks before, and enquired whether he
+knew of the arrest of an English deserter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and a notorious character, it appears.  'Twas not
+merely desertion they had against him, but mutiny, and
+a murderous attack on an officer.  He fought like a cat
+when he was arrested; 'twas a foolish trick, for they were
+ten to one, and in a little he was overpowered.  He was
+tried by court-martial this morning at nine, and the trial
+was short."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Was sentence pronounced?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course; he had no defence; he was sentenced to be shot."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no appeal?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"None.  The sentence will be laid before my lord
+Marlborough for confirmation; a matter of form.  But pray
+why do you take so much interest in the man?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is my servant, comes from my village, has done
+me right faithful service.  Good God! to think that he
+should come to this end!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer shrugged.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Unhappy chance indeed.  'Tis seven years or more
+since he deserted; doubtless he felt secure.  I am sorry
+for you.  He'll get no more than he deserves."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Could I see him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly; he is confined in the town-house; I will
+take you to him myself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes Harry was ushered into a dark room
+in the basement of the town-house.  A candle was lit; he
+was left alone with the prisoner, and the door was locked
+behind him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Sherry, my poor fellow, who would have thought
+you would come to this!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Master Harry, 'tis good of 'ee to come and see me.
+Ay; poor feller! you med well say so; but to tell 'ee the
+truth, 'tis a load off my back."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand.  I know now why you always
+scouted the soldiers in London.  Why didn't you tell me?
+I would never have brought you to this country, with our
+soldiers here, there, and everywhere."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell 'ee!  Not me.  Why, you and me would 'a had
+to part company that minute.  Besides, 'twarn't zackly a
+thing to be proud on, look at it how 'ee will.  'Twas
+ill-luck I were nabbed, to be sure; but I've had nigh eight
+year as a man o' peace, and I s'pose 'twas time the lid
+were putt on the copper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And they'll shoot you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless 'ee, I bean't afeard o' that.  I've been shot at;
+ay, many's the time: at Sedgemoor, and Walcourt, and
+other cities o' destruction.  I can stand fire wi' any man.
+Nay, the one thing as troubles me is how poor old feyther
+o' mine'll take it.  The poor ancient soul never dreams I
+desarted; and zooks! 'tis that'll hurt un more'n my
+bein' a corpse; his boy a desarter, and him a trooper of
+old Noll's!  Ay, that'll hurt un, 'twill so.  And then
+there's you, sir; how be I agwine to leave 'ee, wi' old
+Squire and Rafe Aglionby a-seeken whom they may
+devour, and no one you can trust to polish your breastplate
+and oil your boots?  Ay, the way o' transgressors
+is hard; the wages o' sin is death; many's the time I've
+yeard they holy words from the lips of pa'son your good
+feyther, never thinken in my feeble mind he were aimen at me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was at a loss for words.  Sherebiah was so perfectly
+resigned to his fate that any attempt at consolation
+would seem an impertinence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How came you to desert?" he asked, to gain time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I'll tell 'ee about it.  I was a corporal in Coy's
+horse; med ha' been a sergeant long agoo, indeed.  But
+there was a paymaster o' that regiment, Robins by name;
+a good sojer, true, but with his faults, like any other
+mortal man.  He was hot in his temper, and crooked in
+his dealens.  Us men was bein' cheated, right and left;
+our pay was small enough, but we never got it: a penny
+here and a ha'penny there bein' took off for this or that.
+Ay, and he was a knowen one, he was.  All done so soft
+and quiet-like.  We stood it a long time; at long last,
+'twas more'n Minshull blood could stomach, and one
+mornen I up and spoke out; you see, I warn't a man o'
+peace then.  Well, Robins bein' fiery by nature, he got
+nettled; I should myself; but 'tis one thing to get nettled,
+and another to use yer fist.  Robins he used his fist, and
+not bein' zackly meek as Moses, I used mine, and he
+fell under.  Two or three of my mates standen by saw it
+all.  Robins he raved and called on 'em to arrest me, but
+they wouldn't.  But 'twas all up wi' me; I knowed that
+well enough; if Robins took a spite agen a man he med
+as well be a dead dog.  I had no mind to be a dead dog
+just then, so I bolted; and that's how I come to be such
+a man o' peace."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely if you explained that, your punishment
+wouldn't be so heavy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Explain!  Bless 'ee, 'twould be no good in the world.
+To strike a officer be mortal sin.  Nay, I've nowt to say
+for myself; I must just take my wages."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you manage to elude them so long?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! the regiment was out o' my way: been quartered
+this many year in Ireland.  'Twas just my bad luck that
+they should ha' been sent for on this campaign.  Ah,
+well! a man can die but once; I've kep' the commandments, and
+that's more'n Robins can say; and there's no commandment
+'Thee shall let a man hit 'ee and say thank 'ee'.
+I bean't afeard o' Them above, and I'll meet 'em with
+head up and eye clear, like a English sojer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"When is it to be?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They didn't tell me that.  'Twill not be long, you may
+be sure.  My lord Marlborough has only got to scribble
+his name on the paper, and he'll never remember 'twas
+me as held his horse at Salisbury in '88 and got nowt but
+a smile.—Master Harry, belike I sha'n't see 'ee again in
+this world.  When you go home-along, you'll say a word o'
+comfort to the old ancient gaffer, won't 'ee?  Tell un all
+the truth; tell un I be main sorry to vex his old gray
+hairs,—though not for punchen Robins.  Gi' him my dear
+love: his boy, he calls me, poor soul: and say as how I
+were quite easy in mind and not a bit afeard.  He's a
+trooper of old Noll's, you see."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give him your messages," said Harry with a
+gulp,—"if ever I get back alive."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay true, ye med not.  The corn-dealen was a safer line
+o' life.—What! time's up."—A sentry had thrown open the
+door.—"Good-bye, Master Harry; God bless 'ee! and I
+hope you'll get a man as'll polish your 'coutrements to
+your mind.  This time to-morrow, belike, I shall be a
+true man o' peace."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shook his hand in silence; he could not trust
+himself to speak.  He was angry at what he thought the
+essential injustice of the sentence.  Sherebiah had only
+struck the paymaster in self-defence, and in the original
+cause of dissension had right on his side.  But Harry
+knew what military discipline meant; it was rigid as iron.
+Still, he could not help asking himself whether even now
+it was impossible to get the whole circumstances
+considered and the sentence revised.  He thought of making
+a personal appeal to Marlborough, but soon dismissed
+the idea, for Marlborough had doubtless forgotten him,
+and he had no force of persuasion to bring to bear.
+Suddenly, as he walked slowly along the street, he
+remembered Godfrey Fanshawe; he was an officer in a
+companion regiment, Schomberg's Horse; he would ask
+his advice.  He enquired for the quarters of the regiment,
+found that it was encamped a short distance out on the
+Tilburg road, and hastened thither with an anxious heart.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The troops were under canvas, and Harry found Fanshawe
+joint occupant of a tent with a fellow subaltern.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo!" he cried when he saw Harry.  "I wondered
+when I should run up against you.  I have heard all about
+your feat—rescuing beauty and all that.  What in the
+world brought you to this country?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be long in the telling.  You shall know all
+in season.  I am here on a very special errand.  You
+remember Sherry Minshull?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As well as I do you.  Many's the trout we've caught
+together.  A right good fellow!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At this moment he is lying under sentence of death in
+the town-house at Breda.  Unknown to me, he had been
+a soldier, and deserted after thrashing an officer——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"D'ye know him, then?" interposed the other lieutenant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is my man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  Sorry for you both.  I had heard about it from
+an officer of Coy's—Cadogan's, I should say; their name's
+changed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know, sir, how he came to be smoked?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas an Englishman peached—a soldier of fortune,
+as it appears, who wished to be nameless.  He met the
+men of Cadogan's when they landed at Rotterdam, and
+arranged a trick by which they got him alone on the open
+road.  'Twas rather cleverly managed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And a dirty mean thing to do," said Fanshawe warmly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't something be done for him?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis hopeless," was Lieutenant Tettefall's reply.
+"Robins was very vindictive; he painted the man in the
+blackest colours in his evidence before the court-martial,
+and not one of the officers of the court knew your man.
+He has a double offence to answer for; 'tis certain he'll
+be shot as soon as the forms are completed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's face was then the picture of blank despair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"On my life, 'tis a thousand pities!" said Fanshawe.
+"I fear there is not the ghost of a chance for him."  His
+face gloomed for a moment; then his high spirits asserted
+themselves.  "But come, Harry, 'tis no good taking on
+about it; come and forget it over a bottle.  I want to
+hear your story."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm in no humour for racketing.  Would to God
+I could do something for the poor fellow!  Would the
+colonel intercede if we asked him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he.  He would laugh and crack a joke.  If Sherry
+were a Dutchman, now!  The duke is very sweet to the
+Hollanders at this time, and a word from one of the States
+might turn him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"General van Santen!" exclaimed Harry.  "I had not
+thought of him.  'Twas he I happened to be of use to,
+and Sherry did his share too.  Yes, 'twould be no harm
+to try him.  Do you know where he is?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At Lillo," said Tettefall, "full thirty miles away."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ride there.  Fanshawe, can you lend me a horse?
+Mine brought me from the Hague, forty miles and more,
+and is done up."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll lend you mine.  I'd like to save Sherry, but 'tis a
+poor chance.  Leave your horse; I'll send him and another
+to meet you on the way back, in case you have to ride for it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis good of you.  Do you know the road?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The easiest for you is by Bergen-op-Zoom.  You are
+less likely to be interrupted that way than by the Antwerp
+road; our forces are camped at Calmpthout on that road,
+and you might be delayed in passing through the lines, to
+say nothing of falling in with the French beyond."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks and thanks again!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to ride hard," added Tettefall.  "The
+duke's at Thielen, twenty miles east of Lillo; and there's
+no time to lose."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will start at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And good luck go with you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was soon riding at a smart pace along the road
+to Bergen-op-Zoom, whence he made due south for Lillo,
+reaching that small fortified place about seven o'clock in
+the evening.  To his intense disappointment he found that
+General van Santen was at the British head-quarters at
+Thielen.  He had been absent all day, but was expected
+to return before night.  Had it not been so late Harry
+would have started to meet him on the road, but he did
+not care to risk missing him.  He waited impatiently; the
+general arrived soon after nine, and when he had heard
+Harry's story he consented at once to write to
+Marlborough, mentioning that the bearer of the letter had
+earned some consideration by his excellent stratagem at
+Lindendaal, where the condemned man also had done
+good service.  Armed with the letter, Harry set off at ten,
+hoping to cover the twenty miles to Thielen before the duke
+had retired to rest.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Before starting, General van Santen warned him that
+parties of French horse were out observing the movements
+of the confederate army.  Finding that he was not familiar
+with the road, the general sent one of his own orderlies
+with him, warmly wishing him success.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two riders struck across the fields and by narrow
+bridle paths almost due east, and passing through one or
+two ruined villages—among them Eckeren, the scene of
+the Dutch defeat on June 30th—came to the site of the
+French camp, vacated and burnt on the approach of
+Marlborough some ten days before.  The air was murky, the
+sky dark, and Harry was glad of his companion.  He was
+oppressed by the louring prospect of Sherebiah's fate, and
+the heaviness of the night was not apt to lighten his care.
+They had ridden for about a third of the distance, and had
+just left the highway for a cross-road that saved a mile,
+when all at once, from behind a hedge, there came a sharp
+challenge in French.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who goes there?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A friend," said Harry, and, pulling up, walked his
+horse slowly forward.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Halt, and give the countersign!" said the voice
+peremptorily, and dimly, a few yards before him, Harry saw
+a horseman come into the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now for a dash; keep close!" whispered Harry to the
+orderly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Setting spurs to his horse, he rode straight at the piquet,
+hoping that when the inevitable shot was fired it would
+miss him in the darkness.  As the horse sprang forward
+there was a report and a blinding flash, and a choking sob
+behind.  Harry closed with the Frenchman.  There was
+no time to draw his sword, and he did not wish to raise
+a further alarm by discharging his pistols.  Forcing his
+horse against the flank of the enemy's, he struck the man
+with all the weight of his fist, and, taking him by surprise,
+knocked him from his saddle.  He turned to look for his
+companion; he was prone on the ground, and his startled
+steed had taken flight.  Dismounting in haste, Harry
+found in a moment that the man was dead, killed by the
+shot intended for himself.  At the same instant he heard
+a sound of hoofs from behind on his right.  Springing on
+to his horse he set him at the gallop across a flat grassy
+plain, bearing, as nearly as he could judge, due east.
+Suddenly he heard the thud of more hoofs, still on his
+right, but this time in front of him.  Evidently he was
+being headed off by another party approaching from the
+south-east.  He swerved to the left, intending to make
+a detour; as he did so, there was the report of a carbine
+from behind a hedge a few yards away.  He felt his horse
+quiver, but it galloped on, the man who had fired
+plunging through the hedge in hot pursuit.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's nerves were now at high tension.  It was clear
+that he had stumbled upon a piquet or patrol, or even a
+more numerous party of the enemy, and the odds were
+in favour of his meeting the same fate as the poor fellow
+his guide.  Unhappily his horse was beginning to flag.
+Bending forward to encourage it, and patting its neck,
+he felt that his hand was covered with blood.  The horse
+had been struck.  Harry remembered how it had quivered.
+The wound accounted for its laboured breathing; it was a
+good horse, and, not having as yet been seriously pressed,
+could have held its own with those of the troopers behind.
+But it was plain to Harry that, with the horse severely
+wounded, the race must now be short, and the result
+inevitable.  The distance between himself and his pursuers
+was already lessening; a glance behind showed him four
+dark figures close upon his heels; a few seconds would
+decide his fate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment of danger, some men lose their heads,
+others are braced to the quickest exercise of their faculties.
+Harry, fortunately for himself, was of the latter class.  He
+saw that to ride on must mean speedy capture; the only
+chance of escape was to dismount and slip away on foot.
+But the country here was quite open, he would instantly
+be seen.  He peered anxiously ahead; yes, there, against
+the indigo sky, was a dense mass of black; it was a
+plantation of some kind; could he but gain that, there was a
+bare possibility.  He dug his spurs into his panting steed,
+with pity for the poor wounded beast carrying him so
+gallantly; but he dared not spare it; apart from his own
+fate, another life hung in the balance.  A brief effort was
+needed; the horse nobly responded, and by the time it
+reached the edge of the wood had slightly increased the
+gap between pursuer and pursued.  Pulling up suddenly,
+Harry sprang from the saddle, struck the trembling animal
+with his scabbard, and as he slipped among the trees heard
+it dash forward.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Being wounded, Harry argued, the horse would certainly
+slacken its pace when no longer urged by the voice and
+spur of its rider, and must soon be overtaken.  The enemy
+would immediately guess his device, and if the wood should
+be of no great extent, they would probably surround it, wait
+till morning, and capture him at their leisure.  He waited
+breathlessly for the coming of the enemy; he saw them
+sweep past, bending low in their saddles, two men abreast,
+like phantom horsemen, so quietly did they ride on the
+turf.  His heart gave a jump when he estimated them as
+at least half a troop.  When they were past he left the
+wood, and ran across the open plain at right angles to his
+previous line of flight.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he expected, his manoeuvre was soon discovered.
+He heard the Frenchmen call to one another; then the
+thud of returning hoofs on his right, and in a few minutes
+he saw several dark forms approaching.  They were
+spreading out fanwise.  Only the men at the right of the
+line were directly approaching him at a trot, searching the
+ground as they rode.  The sky was lightening behind them;
+the moon was rising; fortunately, Harry being on foot, the
+pursuers could not see him so clearly as he saw them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment he perceived that it was a race between
+him and the man at the end of the line.  If he could get
+beyond the point at which the trooper's present line of
+march would intersect his own path, he had a reasonable
+chance of safety.  To his dismay he noticed that the man
+was edging still farther from his comrades, as though
+suspecting that he was not taking a sufficiently wide sweep.
+Harry was now panting with his exertions, and in a bath
+of sweat; he could run no faster over the heavy ground;
+he felt that the game was up, wondering indeed that the
+"view halloo!" had not already been given.  Plunging
+blindly, despairingly, on, he was almost at his last gasp
+when he suddenly fell headlong.  He had stumbled into an
+irrigation ditch.  It was overgrown with weeds; in the
+stress of war the culture of the fields had been neglected;
+the bottom was dry.  The weeds grew high on either side;
+Harry scrambled on hands and knees into the rank vegetation,
+and lay still, his flanks heaving, his breath coming
+and going in quick pants which he felt must be audible
+yards away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For some seconds he heard nothing but his deep breathing
+and the thumping of his heart; then the beat beat of
+hoofs drawing nearer.  A horseman passed within a few
+yards of him, luckily on the right.  Another few seconds,
+and the Frenchman ejaculated an angry "Nom d'un
+tonnerre!" as his horse struck the ditch and stumbled.  He
+called to his left-hand man, and Harry, cautiously peering
+through the enveloping weeds, saw him alight and begin
+to examine the ditch.  But he moved away from the fugitive.
+As soon as he was at a safe distance, Harry, who had
+by this time recovered his breath, crept out and stealthily
+crawled along the watercourse on hands and knees.  For
+some minutes he continued this arduous progress, rejoicing
+to hear the men's voices receding moment by moment.
+Then, judging it safe, he rose and broke into a trot, left
+the ditch by and by, and continued to pound over fields and
+paths, through hedges and over ditches, for what seemed
+to him miles.  Then he stopped.  All sounds had now
+ceased save the chirp of crickets, the raucous cry of the
+corn-crake, and the croak of frogs.  He had lost his way;
+he knew not whether he was near a highway; he was dead
+tired, his knees trembling under him.  But he remembered
+Sherebiah spending his lonely vigil in the town-house of
+Breda, waiting for the dawn of his last day, and he set
+his lips and breathed a vow that the faithful fellow should
+not die if the last ounce of energy would save him.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="harry-rides-for-a-life"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Harry Rides for a Life</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Hour before Dawn—A Trivial
+Interruption—Recollections—Another Memorandum—The
+Road to Breda—The Town Clock—Seven Minutes—Against
+Time—Orange Wins</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Years afterwards, when Harry was a father and a
+grandfather, and the children came about his knees clamouring
+for a story, nothing held them more entranced, nothing
+caused them such delicious creepiness, as his account of
+the hours that followed his escape from the French.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There was I," he would say, "in the dead of night, a
+white mist rising from the fields, growing thicker moment
+by moment—and I knew not where I was, knew not but
+an unlucky step might bring me again among the enemy.
+My knees were trembling under me; my mouth was
+parched; my breast like to burst with the striving of
+my breath; I was ready to drop and sleep as I fell.  But
+the thought of my faithful servant in that prison; of his
+being led out and blindfolded, and standing up helpless
+to be the mark of bullets; of his poor old father that doted
+on him—ah! my boys, those thoughts were like a goad to
+me; 'twas as if I was urged on by some unseen power.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not now see the stars, so thick was the mist.
+I could not choose my way.  I could but go forward at a
+venture, praying that my steps might be directed aright.
+I staggered into slimy ditches; forced my way through
+quickset hedges, waded weedy streams; once I came full
+upon a river that I must needs swim.  There was never
+a cottage light to guide me, for though I crossed many a
+field of corn and flax, many a broad space of pasture land,
+I came nowhere near a house or farm, and durst not turn
+aside, feeling as if some strange power bade me go on and
+on.  I know not for how many hours I struggled on thus,
+taking no count of time; nor did I feel conscious of my
+great fatigue, but moved on as though I was a soul
+without body.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It grew darker and darker.  The night seemed to
+press upon me, the mist was like cold clammy hands
+seizing me to hold me back.  Then all at once, going
+blindly as I did, I well-nigh struck my head against a
+low wall, and was immediately conscious of the smell of
+tobacco.  'Twas like a breath of heaven to me, boys.  I
+cried aloud, and the echo of my voice seemed that of a
+startled ghost.  A rough voice answered me; I stood
+still, my heart thumping against my ribs.  Footsteps
+drew near, and I saw the blessed light of a lantern, and
+in a moment a man had me by the sleeve, and drew back
+his hand with a cry, for my garments were cold and wet,
+and the light was flashed in my face, and I saw a big
+Dutch farmer, who took his pipe from his mouth and bade
+me tell whence I had come and what was my business.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What I said I know not now, boys, but soon I was
+wrapped in a cloak, lying upon hay in the bottom of a
+jolting wain, and my new-found friend driving through
+the dawn towards Thielen.  I fell asleep, and when the
+farmer's heavy hand stirred me, I was in Thielen, and all
+around me were soldiers and horses and wagons; 'twas
+the great duke's camp.  The village clock was striking
+four; the sky was already bright; the camp was astir, for
+the duke purposed that day to bridge the Nette.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What figure I cut you may imagine.  Wet, cold,
+dishevelled, my face and hands and clothes all bemired, I
+crawled as best I might from the cart, and staggered to
+the house where the duke was quartered.  There was a
+sentry at the door: when I said I wished to see the duke
+he flouted me, laughed in my face, and was for turning
+me away.  But I was in no mood to be delayed.  I took
+from my tunic the sodden letter of General van Santen,
+and showed it to the fellow, bidding him on peril of his
+life to stay me.  'Twas enough: he called to a servant;
+they talked together, eyeing me as though I were some
+sorry cur: then the man roughly bade me follow him, and
+within a little I stood in a small chamber, looking with
+dazed eyes at the man seated at a table there: 'twas my
+lord Marlborough himself."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"A letter from General van Santen, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough looked up as the servant spoke, but did not
+straighten himself from his bent position at the table, nor
+remove his hands from the pair of compasses that were
+stretched on the map there outspread.  Several officers
+were grouped about him; at a smaller table sat a gentleman
+dealing with a mass of correspondence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cardonnel," said the duke briefly; then resumed
+his discussion with the officers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The secretary turned sideways and took the letter.  He
+broke the seal, ran his eye hurriedly over the paper, then
+laid it on the table.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be looked to," he said, and bent again to his
+writing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood for a moment; all his blood seemed to run
+cold.  Then, his whole body a-tingle, he stepped forward.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, sir, the matter is most urgent; 'tis a case
+of life or death.  If you would be so good as to lay the
+letter at once before my lord——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cardonnel turned and stared with a sort of
+scornful wonder at the dishevelled, bedraggled object who
+addressed him in an English and a cultivated accent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis too late.  My lord's despatch left last night; the
+man will be shot in a few hours; the matter must e'en
+take its course."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, may I beg of you——"  Harry's voice, unknown
+to himself, was raised to a tone of passionate entreaty.
+"My lord——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Mr. Cardonnel?" asked Marlborough.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"General van Santen, my lord, asks the pardon of the
+deserter Minshull, sentenced by court-martial to be shot.
+'Tis too late."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Write and tell the general so, and be done with it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord," broke in Harry, "do but read the general's
+letter.  I have rid and run all night to deliver it; the
+execution will not yet have taken place, and I know
+well——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The duke looked puzzled at the discrepancy between
+the tone of voice and the disreputable appearance of the
+youth before him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Rochester, my lord, the letter—I entreat
+your lordship to read it—will tell the rest."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough signed to the secretary, received the letter
+from his hand, and read it quickly.  It was not long, and
+the last paragraph read as follows:—</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Perchance, my lord, you may feel that the man's gallantry
+in the affair at the Comtesse de Vaudrey's may be set against
+his offence, which though heinous was not unprovoked and is
+now some years old.  If your lordship can reconcile it with the
+demands of discipline to pardon this unfortunate man, you will
+I trust find that your clemency is not ill-bestowed."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Marlborough fixed his eyes upon Harry.  "I understand
+from this letter that the man is your servant?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke in the low pleasant tone that never varied,
+whether he addressed peer or peasant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord, a very true and faithful servant."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And your name is Rochester?  Have I not met you before?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord, well-nigh a year ago."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At my lord Godolphin's."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"At my lord Godolphin's?"  A slight ruffle marked his
+broad white brow.  He looked keenly at Harry.  All at
+once his expression changed.  "I remember.  I had clean
+forgotten it.  You are the young fellow who intervened in
+my lord's roadside adventure?  Ah! and now I bethink
+me, 'twas your man that did the shouting.  The same man?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is enough.—Mr. Cardonnel, make out at once an
+order pardoning the man—what is his name?—and
+discharging him from the army.—The man whose lungs
+saved the Lord Treasurer has decidedly a claim to
+indulgence.  But I fear, Mr. Rochester, you are late.  These
+little matters are usually determined by eight o'clock in the
+morning.  It is near five: 'twill be some little time before
+I can despatch an orderly, and there are fifty odd miles
+to ride."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"With your leave, my lord, I will go myself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So be it.  Mr. Cardonnel will give you the pardon
+and discharge.  It rests with you.  I hope you will be in
+time.  Don't spare your horses."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, my lord, from the bottom of my heart."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There, no more: get to horse.  Yet one moment: did
+I not—I seem to remember it—did I not promise to do
+something for you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas not a promise, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough smiled, and looked at the boy with approval.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But I intended it as such.  I wrote your name, I
+recollect; papers have a trick of losing themselves: I
+should have done something for you but for sheer
+forgetfulness.—Mr. Cardonnel, will you please make a note?
+Mr.—your full name, sir!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry Winterborne Rochester."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Henry Winterborne Rochester for an ensigncy.—I
+had heard of the ruse at the Comtesse de Vaudrey's:
+naturally I did not connect it with you.  You are with
+Grootz the contractor, I believe?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was, my lord, but I have just been commissioned
+cornet in the Anspach dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough and the group of officers laughed outright.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Begad, my lord, you're behind the fair," cried Colonel
+Cadogan, a big burly Irishman of twenty-eight,
+Marlborough's quartermaster-general.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, indeed, an angel has stirred the pool.  But I am
+delaying you, Mr. Rochester; you must ride hard.
+Good-bye!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been itching to get away.  Every moment
+was of importance.  Bowing himself out, he hurried to
+the inn where Fanshawe had promised to stable a horse.
+It was there ready saddled, in charge of a trooper of
+Fanshawe's regiment, who said that Harry's own charger
+Orange was awaiting him half-way to Breda.  Harry
+leapt to the saddle, flung a coin to the man, and in less
+than two minutes was making his way at a sharp trot
+among the press of villagers and soldiers thronging the
+street.  Clear of the village he went at a canter through
+the camp, where all was bustle in preparation for the day's
+march: then, gaining the free highroad, he set his steed
+to the gallop.  Some minutes later he heard a village
+clock strike five.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Two hours after Harry started on his ride, Godfrey
+Fanshawe left his tent in company with Lieutenant
+Tettefall, and mounted his horse to ride into Breda.  He had
+passed a sleepless and anxious night, his mind haunted
+by the impending fate of Sherebiah, with whom he had
+spent many a pleasant day on the banks of the Avon, or
+in the coverts of his father's estate.  The execution had
+been fixed for eight by the clock of the Hervormde Kerk
+near the market-place, Marlborough's despatch
+confirming the sentence having arrived late on the previous
+evening.  Fanshawe had seen the major in command,
+explaining that Harry had gone to see the duke with a
+view to a remission of the sentence.  The major had
+laughed at the idea, swearing that he would not delay the
+execution a moment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Galloping into Breda, Fanshawe's first care was to
+enquire whether Harry had arrived, or whether any
+message had come from Marlborough countermanding the
+execution.  But nothing had been heard of the one or the
+other.  Fanshawe made a last appeal to the major, but
+Robins had that officer's ear, and had convinced him that
+the condemned prisoner was a rascal of whom the army
+would be well rid.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At a quarter after seven the regiment was paraded and
+marched to the castle park, where the execution was to
+take place.  Fanshawe meanwhile paced moodily up and
+down, watching the inexorable clock.  Suddenly, as he
+looked at its face for the tenth time, he remembered a
+legend of the Civil War, which his father had told him:
+the story of a Royalist trooper who, condemned to die
+at the ringing of the curfew, had been saved by the
+heroism of his sweetheart, who climbed the belfry tower,
+caught the clapper of the bell, and with her delicate hands
+had prevented the fatal sound.  His recollection suggested
+an idea.  There was still forty minutes to spare.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the park gate a knot of idlers had gathered to see
+the condemned man pass to his doom.  Singling out from
+among these a likely youth, Fanshawe held with him a
+rapid conversation in whispers; and the two hurried away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They went straight to the sacristan of the Hervormde
+Kerk, whose cottage was known to the Dutch youth.  By
+the aid of this interpreter Fanshawe explained to the old
+man that, being much interested in church clocks, he would
+like to climb the tower and see the mechanism, at the same
+time slipping a coin into the man's hand.  The sacristan
+was a feeble, tottering old fellow, and was persuaded
+without difficulty to hand over the key of the tower, on the
+promise of the English officer to return it within an hour.
+Armed with the key, Fanshawe then hurried under the
+boy's guidance to the chief clock-maker's in the town.
+His shop was not yet open for business, but when he
+learnt that a clock was in urgent need of attention he
+agreed to send a young apprentice to oblige the
+Englishman.  At twenty minutes to eight Fanshawe with the
+young clock-maker ascended the church tower.  The boy
+remained at the door.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The clock chimed the three-quarters.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray God Harry arrive in time!" was Fanshawe's
+thought as he returned to the park gate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The clock was too far off for any movement of the hands
+to be noted.  Had it been nearer, a close observer
+comparing with his own watch might have seen that from this
+time the long hand of the clock advanced one minute for
+every two.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It still marked ten minutes to eight when Sherebiah,
+with bound wrists, came up under guard.  He smiled
+serenely when, entering the park, he saw Fanshawe,
+whose pale anxious looks betrayed his suffering.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't 'ee take on, now, Master Godfrey," he said.
+"Let 'em aim well and ha' done wi't.  Bless 'ee, I bean't
+afeard.  But, Master Godfrey, where be Master Harry?
+To say good-bye, I mean."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He—he couldn't come, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Well, 'tis no sight for a man o' peace, and he
+ha'n't donned the breastplate yet.  Gi' un my love and
+respect, an 'ee please, sir; and axe un to remember the old
+gaffer."  Fanshawe gripped his hand, and he passed into
+the park.  "Nay, I won't ha' my eyes tied up," he said to
+one of the firing squad who approached to bandage him.
+"Must, must I?  Well, I'm not one to go agen the law at
+the last.  Got a clean firelock, mate?  Ah! there's the
+bell a-dingen.  Tell Robins—nay, I was gwine to forgive
+un, but I won't; I'll leave that for Them above."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By this time he was standing, with eyes bandaged,
+against the wall.  He ceased to speak; the last stroke of
+eight had already sounded from several steeples; but the
+clock of the Hervormde Kerk still wanted seven minutes
+of the hour.  Fanshawe's eyes were riveted on the hands;
+the soldiers stood at ease, waiting.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile, what of Harry?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The road through Turnhout to Breda passes through
+a wide moorland region and crosses the river Merk.  It
+was a somewhat heavy road at the best, and the recent
+passage of troops and baggage wagons had made it
+rutty and uneven.  Harry had started at a stiff gallop; his
+horse was fresh, and seemed to catch the infection of his
+eagerness.  On he went, scarcely varying his pace, his
+head low, his ears bent back for his rider's encouraging
+words.  At that hour the road was free; Harry met with
+no obstruction.  He dashed through Turnhout, crossed
+the river to Hoogstraaten, and there found his own black
+charger awaiting him.  He was not quite half-way to Breda.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Orange, my beauty, you must go as you never went
+before," he cried, as he set the animal at a gallop.  The
+horse pricked his ears in response.  He galloped on for
+mile after mile, scattering dust around him, getting many
+a stare of wonderment from the peasants at work in the
+fields.  As the miles slipped by, Harry anxiously watched
+his gallant steed.  Great flakes of foam fell from the
+animal's quivering lips; his nostrils were distended wide;
+his white eye-sockets were rimmed with red; and still he
+galloped, panting, striving nobly to respond to the
+caressing pats and cheering words of his master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty minutes more, old fellow!" whispered Harry
+in the beast's ear.  "Twenty minutes; if you can only
+hold out!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was nearing the end of his ride, but the poor horse
+was in distress.  Spots of blood crimsoned the white
+foam; Harry fancied that he saw despair in the animal's
+starting eyes; and when, still a mile on the wrong side of
+Ginneken, he heard the little church clock strike eight, his
+heart sank within him.  He dared not press the horse
+further; he might urge it to a short spurt, but the effort
+would probably be its last; and he had still three miles
+to go!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, Orange, my beauty!" he cried, patting its
+ear.  "Good horse!  Near home now; a few minutes
+more, old fellow, and then——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he rode on, inspiriting words on his lips, black
+despair at his elbow.  He knew what military punctuality
+meant; his ears were strained to catch the sharp rattle of
+musketry.  How far could a volley be heard?  He could
+not pause to speculate on the question; all he could hear
+was the ringing of his flagging steed's hoofs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was a mile from Breda.  He saw the whole of the
+little town before him, smoke rising from the chimneys;
+he overtook a few carts slowly wending towards the
+market, and heard the wondering exclamations of the
+wagoners as his blood-flecked steed flashed by.  His eyes
+were straining towards the church tower; pray God the
+Ginneken clock was fast!  But he was too far away to see
+the hands.  On he rode; he came to the open gate; the
+sentry challenged him, but he was gone before the man
+had finished the phrase.  Now he dug his spurs into the
+horse's heaving flanks for a last spurt; he clattered
+through the ill-paved street, shouting to the pedestrians
+to make way; into the busy little market-place, cumbered
+with the stalls of apple-women, poulterers, and other
+purveyors.  Boys scurried like rabbits out of his path; women
+raised shrill cries as stalls were thrown down and apples
+rolled wide; dogs barked and girls shrieked; but he was
+past; the church clock said one minute to eight!  Out
+of the market-square, round the corner,—and there was
+Tettefall, hastening to meet him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To the park!" cried the lieutenant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shouted in the horse's ear.  In half a minute he
+was in at the park gate, and saw as in a mist the red
+uniforms of the firing-party, the solitary figure of the
+condemned man, and the officer in advance of the line with his
+eyes on the clock.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Saved!" he cried, flinging the duke's order into the
+air.  In a moment he was off the horse, which sank a
+trembling, heaving heap upon the ground.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Just in time—thank God!" gasped Harry, as he sat
+with the horse's head between his knees.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And upon his dazed ear there fell the first chimes of the
+beneficent clock, mingled with the loud curt tones of the
+officer in command as he gave his squad the order to
+march.</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 85%" id="figure-107">
+<span id="the-stroke-of-eight"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="The Stroke of Eight" src="images/img-218.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">The Stroke of Eight</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-water-of-affliction"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Water of Affliction</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The New Cornet—A Visit to Lindendaal—Fanshawe is
+Presented—The Family Skeleton—Madame Protests—Mademoiselle
+Insists—Mynheer is Mysterious—A Silent House—The
+Law Allows It—Not in the Bond—In the Canal—Sherebiah
+Owns Up</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>By his famous ride from Thielen to Breda Harry became
+doubly a popular hero.  Neither citizens nor soldiers,
+Dutch or English, felt any particular concern with
+Sherebiah; but Harry's feat, coming before the memory of his
+former exploit at Lindendaal had died out, raised him to
+a pitch of estimation that might well have made him vain,
+but which in truth he found only embarrassing.  Fanshawe,
+on the other hand, whose ready device with the clock had,
+as Harry was the first to acknowledge, really been the
+means of saving Sherebiah, was regarded with cold
+unfriendliness and even dislike by the townsfolk.  To tamper
+with the town clock they regarded as a monstrous and
+unpardonable offence, and there was some talk of laying
+a formal complaint before the Duke of Marlborough.  The
+proposal was warmly debated in the borough council, and
+the burgomaster had to exercise all his tact to prevent the
+hotter heads from carrying the day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As for Sherebiah, he was a different man.  By his formal
+discharge from the army the cloud that had pressed upon
+him for nearly nine years was dissolved; and now that he
+had become by official licence, as it were, a man of peace
+in good earnest, he developed, not merely an unexpected
+lightness of spirits, but a surprising partiality for the
+company of soldiers.  Every leisure moment he now spent
+in camp or barrack, retailing endless anecdotes of his
+former experiences as a man of war, and basing on these
+a right to criticise and instruct which younger men admitted
+with humility, to the immense disgust and chagrin of Robins.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few days after the incident, Harry's regiment marched
+into quarters at Breda, and General van Santen himself paid
+a flying visit to the town in order to introduce the new
+cornet to his messmates.  Harry was welcomed with open
+arms, less through the general's sponsorship than through
+the fame of his own exploits and the proof he had given of
+courage and daring.  One little fact also, which leaked
+out in course of time, did much to consolidate Harry's
+reputation as a thoroughly good fellow.  He made it his
+business to find out the relatives of the man who had been
+killed during the night ride from Lillo.  The poor fellow
+had left a wife and six children, the eldest a boy of
+sixteen—a slow, earnest, dogged youth who was overcome with
+shyness when Harry, at the interview with his tearful mother,
+asked to see him.  Harry liked the look of the boy, and
+offered to apprentice him to an armourer.  The mother
+gladly accepted; and Mynheer Grootz further undertook,
+at Harry's persuasion, to provide employment for the
+widow and those of her children who were of age to work.
+This solicitude of Harry for the family of a man who after
+all had only been killed by the fortune of war, and had
+no claim upon him, made an impression on the officers of
+his regiment; and though it was never mentioned in his
+presence at mess, it doubtless accounted in large measure
+for his popularity with officers and men.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For some weeks Harry was fully occupied in learning his
+new duties, practising with sword and rapier, and
+improving his knowledge of Dutch: Sherebiah's command of the
+language was of course no longer a mystery.  Schomberg's
+Horse, to which Fanshawe belonged, being likewise
+quartered outside Breda, Harry often had opportunities
+of conversation with his friend.  Naturally Fanshawe was
+amazed to hear of the strange enmity of Mr. Berkeley,
+and shrewdly guessed that the soldier of fortune who had
+informed on Sherebiah was Captain Aglionby.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And mark my words," he said, "'twas another move
+against you.  Sherry seems to have been a sort of watchdog
+to you; him out of the way, so much the less difficulty
+in aiming at you.  Though what cause the squire has to
+wish you ill it passes my wit to divine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And mine too.  'Tis a desperate revenge on me for
+being my father's son."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a care, Harry.  Having gone so far they will
+not easily be baulked, and in these cut-and-thrust times
+a blow in the dark, eh?—exit Harry Rochester."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be on my guard, never fear; and I still have
+Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had not forgotten his friends at Lindendaal.  He
+rode over one free afternoon some three weeks after
+joining his regiment, and found that the ladies had heard of
+his promotion, and of his ride, from Mynheer Grootz.
+Madame de Vaudrey was ecstatic in her congratulations,
+and only deplored that his new coat was not more brilliant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It suits you well, mon ami," she said, "but for myself
+I should like better the red than the blue."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, Madame," replied Harry with a laugh, "I
+hadn't given it a thought.  There's one advantage in a dull
+garb: it presents a less conspicuous mark to the enemy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A point, Monsieur, to which also you had not given
+a thought till this moment," said Adèle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed; then, changing the subject, he added:
+"Have you heard or seen anything more of Monsieur de
+Polignac and his friend?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Monsieur Harry," said the comtesse.  "And
+indeed we do not wish to.  I only fear lest his silence
+augurs no good for us.  As for his friend, that odious
+captain——prrrut!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame's indignation was too great for articulate
+expression.  The idea of Aglionby daring to pay his addresses
+to her was too monstrous.  As was her wont in this mood,
+she prattled away about her late husband, Harry listening
+sympathetically and wondering at the half-smile on Adèle's
+face.  When taking his leave, he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An old friend of mine, an English officer, is in camp at
+Breda.  May I bring him, Madame, to call on you one day?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be charmed, mon cher ami."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fanshawe speaks little French, I fear, but——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah bah!" interrupted the lady, "that matters nothing
+at all.  Adèle shall teach him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be charmed, as Mamma says," said Adèle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry smiled; nevertheless the suggestion set him
+thinking as he rode back, and he felt a shade of
+annoyance when Fanshawe, to whom he mentioned the
+circumstance, laughed heartily and quoted:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Amo, amas, I love a lass'.  Is she pretty, Harry?
+By George!  I like the notion."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two rode out together in the following week;
+Fanshawe made a good impression on Madame de Vaudrey,
+and his stammering French and good-humoured laughter
+at his own mistakes appeared to form a bond of union
+between him and Adèle, for she was soon chatting and
+smiling with a friendliness and freedom quite different
+from her reserved attitude towards Harry.  Fanshawe
+talked and laughed gaily all the way back; Harry on
+the contrary was decidedly glum; and when Sherebiah
+came to him at night as usual for orders his master's
+unaccustomed moodiness did not escape him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What med be the meanen o' this?" he muttered as he
+went away.</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"'Yanker didee dudel down</span></div>
+<div class="line"><span>Dida dudel launter——'</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>I must ride out-along to Lindendaal one o' these fine days,
+and putt a question to Katrinka—ay sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One afternoon in the second week of September Harry,
+having finished his duties for the day, paid a visit by
+himself to Madame de Vaudrey.  He found the good lady in
+tears, and Adèle with very pale cheeks and a suspicious
+redness about her eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Harry!" cried the comtesse as he was
+shown in, "how glad I am to see you!  This is a moment
+when I need a friend.  Look at this letter from that odious
+Monsieur de Polignac.  My poor dear husband!  I am
+glad—it is horrible to say it—but yes, I am glad he did
+not live to see this terrible day.  Read it, cher ami."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked at the letter.  It was a curt and formal
+note from Polignac intimating that, failing compliance
+with his suit, he was resolved to foreclose his mortgage
+on the estate one month from the date of the letter, as the
+terms of the deed provided.  He still offered Mademoiselle
+his hand and heart; did she accept him as a husband he
+would immediately destroy the mortgage; he gave her a
+week to decide.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The villain!" ejaculated Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is within his right, Monsieur," said Adèle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Right!  Legal right, yes; no doubt it is so; but who
+but a villain would put the matter in this way!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What I do not understand," said Madame de Vaudrey,
+"is his motive.  If Adèle were a great heiress, I can
+understand that he should press his suit; but she is not; this
+poor little estate would not tempt an ambitious man; and
+as for herself, she has shown her aversion so plainly——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him!" cried the girl, with a vehemence that
+surprised Harry, so unlike was it to her usual cold
+self-contained air.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is wrong to hate," said her mother; "but the dear
+girl has no liking for him, and how should a man desire for
+a wife one to whom he is so indifferent?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," said Harry, "is the mortgage for a large sum?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas! yes, for several thousand guilders; that is for
+the estate alone: the house is separately mortgaged, and
+the mortgagee in that case is content to receive his
+interest."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you no relatives who would advance the money?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not one.  We are poor exiles, and have not, I believe,
+one relative in the wide world."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was greatly distressed.  It was clear that Adèle
+would never consent to marry Polignac, even if her mother
+wished it; and there was no escape from the dilemma save
+by raising the money.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you quite sure you are so fully in the man's
+power?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it too well.  There is no flaw in the documents;
+my dear husband's lawyer is a good man; we have no
+way of escape."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you have consulted him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he can do nothing.  It is law, he tells me; we
+have no other property the sale of which might pay off the
+mortgage; I have nothing but my jewels, the gifts of my
+dear comte, and they would not bring one-tenth of the sum
+we need.  The income from the estate would enable us to
+pay off the mortgage in ten years if we were given time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A ray of light struck suddenly upon Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Mynheer Grootz know?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no!  Mynheer Grootz is indeed a friend, but he
+could do nothing—nothing."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure of that.  I think he should be told.  It
+is a matter of business; he is a shrewd man of business;
+he may be able to see a way out of the difficulty that we
+are ignorant of; with your leave I will put the case to
+him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur Harry, I forbid it.  I prefer that
+Mynheer Grootz should not know.  He has enough to do,
+I am sure, without being troubled with a poor woman's
+affairs.  I do not say he has not a good heart; he has;
+he knows how fond I am of rare tulips, and has so kindly
+given me bulbs; but no, I could not seek other favours
+from him, I could not indeed.  Besides, the lawyer has
+said, nothing can be done; Mynheer Grootz can do
+nothing against the law."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Madame; and yet—it is a chance; it can surely
+do no harm——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You do not understand, Monsieur; it may do the very
+greatest harm."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was mystified, especially as he fancied he detected
+the glimmer of a smile on Adèle's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand——" he began.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother cannot explain," said Adèle quietly.  "I do
+not agree with her; I think she is quite mistaken;
+certainly Mynheer Grootz should be told."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle, you are a child; one cannot expect you to
+understand."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman chérie, do you think so?  You are a goose,
+petite Maman.  Monsieur, believe me, it will be the very
+best thing in the world to consult Mynheer Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It will, Mamma.  It is a poor chance, I fear, but
+ought we to neglect even the least? and you do not wish
+me to marry Monsieur de Polignac?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu, non!  A thousand times no!  The odious man!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Madame," said Harry, "I will venture to see
+Mynheer Grootz as soon as I can,—or perhaps write to
+him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien! it is against my will.  I protest; I can do no
+more.  You will tell him I protested?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, I shall not forget.  I will let you know
+what he says; perhaps he will come himself.  Madame,
+have a good heart; why, if all else fails, there is my man
+Sherry; you remember how he embraced the gentlemen?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle laughed, but the comtesse was too much distressed
+to see any humour in the situation.  Harry was surprised
+at the flutter into which his simple suggestion had thrown
+her, and rode away feeling puzzled at the strange ways of
+women.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was spared the necessity of writing to Mynheer
+Grootz, for on reaching his quarters he learnt that the
+merchant had called during the evening, and had left word
+that he might be seen next afternoon after his business
+with the commissary was concluded.  He heard Harry's
+story quietly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave it to me, Harry," he said, his little eyes twinkling.
+"I will promise dis Monsieur de Polignac a little
+surprise.  He is a noble; zo I guess by de name.  Dey
+are all de same, dese nobles; and I promise Monsieur de
+Polignac zall be made to know dat dis is Holland, not
+France, and moreover dat one honest Dutchman is match
+for a score of rascal French.  Dis man dink he have only
+a woman to deal wid; well, he zall be undeceive."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you see Madame de Vaudrey, then, or write to her?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, neider will I zee her, nor write to her.  But you—you
+will tell her by no means to answer dis Monsieur de
+Polignac.  He will foreclose in a month, you zay?  Very
+well.  He zall meet wid a surprise.  Now tell me one
+ding.  Madame la Comtesse—did she ask you to come to me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite the contrary, Mynheer; she did not wish it, I
+did not understand why; the reasons she gave were
+somewhat lame."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then for the first time in Harry's knowledge of the
+Dutch merchant he saw him excited.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By den donder!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh.
+Noting Harry's glance of astonishment he chuckled again,
+adding: "I tell you dis; you alzo zall zee someding."  He
+wagged his forefinger knowingly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have told me nothing," said Harry with a smile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dat is true.  In good time.  You do not yet know
+me, Jan Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave Madame de Vaudrey the Dutchman's message,
+and after that found only one opportunity of visiting
+her for nearly a month.  On that occasion she showed him
+a final letter from Polignac, announcing that on a specified
+day he would attend at the house to receive payment of
+his mortgage, or, in default, possession of the property.
+The comtesse had heard nothing from Grootz, and was
+in great distress, refusing to be comforted when Harry
+assured her that all would be well.  On his return to
+Breda he wrote to Grootz informing him of Polignac's
+letter, and next day received a reply asking him to arrange
+if possible to keep the day named free.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Early on the morning of that September day, Grootz
+with Harry, Sherebiah, and two men with large bags
+slung at their saddles, rode out from Breda to Lindendaal.
+When the door was opened by old Jean, and they had
+entered, Grootz bade him close it and slip one of the bolts
+half-way into its socket.  After a short conversation with
+the servant he went into the reception-room, had the bags
+laid on the table, threw himself into the biggest chair, and
+calmly lit his pipe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame abhors tobacco, Mynheer," Harry ventured to say.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh!  Zo I now remember.  It is a pity; I must put
+out my pipe, even though she be not here."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"She is gone from home, then?  I fancied so by the
+manner of your entering."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ja!  At dis moment she and de juffrouw are, as I
+suppose, fast asleep in Breda.  Dey come dere last night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  And we receive Monsieur de Polignac?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dat is zo; we receive Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Deprived of the solace of his pipe, Grootz settled himself
+to sleep in his chair.  An hour or more later he was
+wakened by Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here they are, Mynheer!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was up in a moment, and from the window saw
+Polignac, accompanied by Aglionby and two sturdy
+henchmen, walking up the drive towards the house.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks!" exclaimed Sherebiah, "here be Rafe Aglionby
+again.  'Twill be no cuddle this time if I lay hands on
+him.  No thanks to he I be not a dead corpse to-day."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherebiah, it is my turn," said Grootz solemnly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zackly, Mynheer, all fair and no favour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The four men came to the door, and the bell gave forth
+a resounding clang.  All was silent within the house, and
+Jean at Grootz's orders paid no heed to the appeal.
+Again the bell sounded; again there was no response.
+Then Aglionby with an oath began to hammer on the
+door with his riding-whip.  Even this noisy summons
+being disregarded, after a moment's consultation Polignac
+ordered one of his men to burst in the door.  It yielded
+easily to his force, and the four trooped in—to find
+themselves confronted by Grootz, with Harry and Sherebiah
+behind him.  At the same moment six of the men about
+the estate came quietly from behind the house and arranged
+themselves in two parties on both sides of the entrance,
+outside, and out of view from within.  Jean had fulfilled
+his instructions.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac halted in some embarrassment when he saw
+Grootz, and Aglionby looked far from comfortable at this
+unexpected meeting with the two men he had injured.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Messieurs, I ask you," began Grootz in slow, halting
+French, "what is the meaning of this forcible entry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur," replied Polignac, recovering his
+sang-froid instantly.  "I have not the pleasure.  I came
+to see Madame la Comtesse de Vaudrey."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo?  And permit me to ask, what is your business
+with Madame la Comtesse de Vaudrey?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Before I reply, permit me to ask by what right you
+question me, and what you are doing here?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly, Monsieur.  My name is Jan Grootz; I am
+here by the power of attorney I hold from Madame de
+Vaudrey.  I beg you see it is in due form."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He exhibited a roll of parchment which Polignac glanced
+at; he was patently annoyed; his mouth twitched towards
+his left ear.  Aglionby meanwhile had edged towards him,
+evidently with the intention of whispering something;
+but Sherebiah noted the movement and exclaimed:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep a still tongue, Rafe Aglionby, 'ee were best, I
+tell 'ee."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are aware, then, Monsieur," said Polignac, "that
+I come according to due notice as required by law to
+demand payment of a bond, or possession of this estate,
+as provided in the deed?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I know it; what is the amount payable under
+the bond?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fourteen thousand guilders, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz pointed through the open doorway of the
+reception-room to the bags upon the table.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is the money, Monsieur.  You will please to
+count it, and give me a quittance, and hand the bond to
+me to be destroyed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>With disappointment and rage written upon his face,
+Polignac proceeded to count the money with Aglionby's
+assistance.  It was a longish process, and neither of the
+men felt quite at ease under the gaze of the onlookers.
+At last it was finished; Polignac wrote a receipt, and gave
+the cancelled bond to Grootz.  Not a word was spoken
+while these formalities were complied with.  Harry noticed
+that Sherebiah had placed himself between Aglionby and
+the door.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" said Grootz.  "Wait one minute, Monsieur."  He
+unrolled the deed, ran his eye over it, then looked up
+and said with deliberate gravity: "Permit me to draw
+your attention to the fact that the property named in this
+document is the land belonging to the estate.  It does not
+include the house and its appurtenances.  Wherefore it
+appears, Monsieur, that you, with a band of ruffian
+hirelings, have violently broken into the private house of a
+lady who enjoys the protection of the Dutch flag.  That
+is, permit me to observe, Monsieur, a breach of the law,
+and subjects you to a penalty—heavy, no doubt; I do not
+know the law.  But for the present, since the law moves
+somewhat slowly, it would not surprise me if the servants
+of Madame la Comtesse, who are devoted to their mistress,
+should prefer to anticipate the sentence.  They may
+be disposed to do what every honest and indignant
+Hollander would certainly do in the circumstances."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At a signal the half-dozen Dutch servants moved to the
+door and blocked the entrance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Men," said Grootz to them, "these gentlemen, who
+are not Hollanders, have broken into your mistress's
+house.  I do not give you any advice; but for myself I do
+not think it would be a breach of the law if you should
+throw these gentlemen into the canal yonder.—Do not be
+alarmed, gentlemen; it is cold, I fear, and dirty, but as
+honest Hollanders Madame de Vaudrey's servants will not
+allow you to drown, for all their indignation."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Half-way through this speech Polignac and Aglionby
+had both made to draw their swords; but the six
+Hollanders seized upon them; in a trice they were
+overpowered.  Their two men looked on, trembling.  Polignac,
+white to the lips, held his peace; but Aglionby, after
+wriggling vainly in the hands of his captors, turned his
+head towards Sherebiah and cried:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zounds, Sherry, you will not stand by and see your
+own cousin so misused.  'Tis a vile plot.  I have done
+nothing; what are the ladies to me? what is Polignac to
+me?  Sherry, unhand these boors; I shall catch my death
+of cold; Sherry, I say, blood is thicker than water——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure, but it bean't so cold."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Od rat you!" shouted the enraged captain as he was
+hauled with Polignac out of the house.  He kept up his
+clamorous entreaties and oaths until the very moment
+when, with a sounding splash, he was heaved into the
+canal, and with spluttering breathlessness struck out with
+Polignac for the other side.  A moment's observation
+sufficed to show the Hollanders that their victims could
+swim; they watched the scene with Dutch stolidity, Grootz
+placidly smoking his long-deferred pipe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis the water of affliction, as the Book says,"
+remarked Sherebiah sententiously as he watched the
+swimmers gain the farther bank, clamber up, and slink
+away, Aglionby obviously pouring out the vials of his
+wrath upon the miserable Frenchman.  "'Tis the fust
+time for many a day cold water have gone down Rafe's
+throat, and mebbe he's changed his mind by now about
+blood bein' thicker 'n this water."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I admire your strategy, Mynheer," said Harry to
+Grootz.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!  We must send dis money to Polignac; his house
+is near at hand.  Dere is one ding to zay: de house is
+mine, after all.  I paid off de mortgage last week—let us
+zay, for a friend.  Dat is all dat Madame need know:
+Grootz has paid de bonds—both bonds, house and land—for
+a friend: a matter of business; you understand."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Mynheer; I will be diplomatic if she asks
+for more information."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But Harry was as much puzzled by Grootz's attitude as
+he had been by the lady's.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So Captain Aglionby is your cousin?" he said to
+Sherebiah later in the day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, to be sure: old feyther's sister's son.  A fine
+loven feller for a coz, bean't he, sir?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He has got off too lightly, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebbe, but he'll come to his reckonen some day.  You
+mind seein' me trounce un the day arter I shouted for the
+noble lord?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and you would not tell me the reason."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, I was 'shamed for my blood.  Folks thowt 'twas
+Rafe as loosed John Simmons.  'Twarn't him; 'twas me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay.  I knowed as the highway business were a trick o'
+Rafe's, and I knowed as how Simmons would split on un.
+Fat'll be in fire then, thinks I.  Rafe'll go to hangman,
+and poor old feyther o' mine'll die o' shame at such a
+kicken end for his own sister's child.  I couldn't stand
+that, sir, so when Willum Nokes was a-snoren I took
+down keys from the nail and had Simmons out in a twink."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But that doesn't explain why you fought the captain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but it do.  Here was I, goen agen the law, diddlen
+Sir Godfrey and other high justices, cheaten hangman and
+all—and what for, I axe 'ee?  'Cos Minshull blood was
+cussed wi' mixen wi' Aglionby's.  Aglionby blood had got
+to pay, someways, and so it did, to be sure, for I took a
+half-pint or so out of Rafe that mornen."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="knaves-all-three"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Knaves all Three</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Labour Lost—Elegant Extracts—Hard Hit—A New
+Departure—Fishing—County Families—Sack</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Captain Aglionby sanded the paper he had just written
+upon, and leant back in his chair with a sigh of
+satisfaction.  He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Mynheer," said the voice of his landlord.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>With an instinctive movement he covered the letter, and
+turned on his chair, in time to see the door open and a
+visitor enter.  He stared for a moment in speechless amazement;
+then, attempting clumsily to shove the letter entirely
+out of sight beneath a plate containing the crumbs of a fish
+pâté, he got up and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Mr. Berkeley; adzooks! 'tis the last man I
+could have expected to see, the last man—though a
+pleasant surprise, an uncommonly pleasant surprise."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Humph!" grunted the old man, with a glance round
+the mean room.  "I feared you would resent my too
+abrupt entry.  After what I had learnt in your letters about
+your magnificent, expensive, modish apartment, I could
+not suppose I was walking straight into your
+parlour—h'm! study; h'm! bedroom and—pantry, h'm!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No apologies, my friend, I beg.  You take me at
+a disadvantage, having but just consumed my modest
+repast——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fish!  My nose informs me.  'Tis the fortieth smell
+that has offended my senses within a quarter of an hour.
+'Twas somewhat difficult to discover your—mansion.  You
+are not, it appears, so well known at the Hague as you
+give out; and when I named you at my inn, with your
+address, I was advised to bring an escort.  I came
+alone——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Nicolas Berkeley knows how to take care of
+himself—eh, Squire?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But had I known to what an ordeal, to what a series
+of ordeals, my nostrils would be exposed, I doubt I could
+not have plucked up the courage."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas ill done to come upon me so suddenly.  The
+smells—hang me, Squire, I have smelt worse when I was
+the guest of the Czar of Muscovy.  But had you given me
+a week's, a day's notice, I would have made ready an
+entertainment worthy of you, my old friend."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt, no doubt——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And indeed I was on the point of writing you when
+you entered."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, on the point of; you write to me twice a day, do
+you? for unless I mistake, you have already writ once
+to-day.  Under the plate, Captain Aglionby—surely I see
+writ on the paper there some semblance of my name."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis so; what eyes you have for your age, Squire!  I was
+just trying a new pen, and so full were my thoughts of my
+generous friend and patron that the pen ran of its own accord,
+mark you, into the familiar curves.  And as I know how
+you abhor a letter, I will e'en tear up the paper and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay!" cried the old man, taking a sudden step forward;
+"knowing the pains you take in writing, 'tis pity
+they should be wasted.  I set out designing to conduct
+my son to the army: I find I am embarked on a voyage
+of discovery; give me the paper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The command was uttered in a tone that broke down
+Aglionby's bravado.  He drew the letter from below the
+plate, and handed it in sullen silence to the squire.  The
+old man pressed his lips grimly together as he unfolded
+the yet unsealed paper.  Aglionby stuck out his legs wide
+apart, thrust his hands into his breeches pockets, and
+hung his head in moody dudgeon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis excellent pen-work; your hand grows fluent.  '</span><em class="italics">I
+thank you for the hundred guineas received</em><span>'"—Mr. Berkeley
+read aloud with deliberation and a dry emphasis that made
+Aglionby wince—"'</span><em class="italics">and trust the two hundred for which I
+beseeched you in my last will not tarry.</em><span>'  To pay your
+landlord, I take it, for this—magnificent apartment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A man must live," said the captain sullenly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, eat and drink, and sponge upon his betters for his
+cakes and ale."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oons!  Squire, 'tis rum."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A foul-smelling liquor.—What is this?—'</span><em class="italics">do violence to
+natural affection in the service of a munificent
+patron—inform on a cousin—Sherebiah Minshull condemned to be
+shot—my lord Marlborough—young Mr. Rochester—rid up
+in the nick of time.</em><span>'"—Mr. Berkeley's brow darkened as he
+read.—"Let me come to the end of it.  '</span><em class="italics">A visit to the
+Comtesse de Vaudrey in the interest of my patron—violent
+assault—in the mellay stumbled into a canal—costume totally
+ruined and cannot be replaced under ten guineas</em><span>'—I
+observe 'tis shrunk at the sleeve; I thought maybe you had
+grown, to match your magnificent apartment!  Now, sirrah,
+how much of this precious epistle do you expect me to
+believe?  A fine story, in truth, of the ills you suffer in
+your constant zeal for your 'munificent patron': is it all
+of a piece with your 'magnificent apartment'?  What have
+you done with, and for, my hundred guineas?—what,
+sirrah, your answer!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby felt that he was being wronged; he had, in
+fact, done all in his power; it was not his fault that failure
+had dogged him.  Undoubtedly appearances were against
+him, and the biting emphasis of the old man's delivery, the
+cold sneer that lurked in every repetition of his pet phrases,
+robbed him of speech.  He writhed under the lash.  Standing
+over him, the squire gave rein to his temper.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You take me for a fool, do you, with your cock-and-bull
+stories!—you flam me off, rat me! with your
+'magnificent apartment', your 'munificent patron', your
+'constant zeal', which I—I, you swashbuckling villain—am to
+pay for!  Where are the two hundred guineas paid to the
+captain of the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>?—the fifty guineas to your
+footpad friends in Wapping?—the hundred sent you but a
+few weeks past?  How has your zeal furthered my interest?
+Zeal, forsooth! there's a many of your cut-throat gossips
+would sink you as a disgrace to the craft, for at least they
+hold to their bargains and are not swindlers as well as——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire and fury!" shouted Aglionby, springing to his
+feet and drawing his sword.  "'Tis not to be borne!  Clap
+a bridle on your canting tongue or I'll run your bloodless
+carcass through!—as I've done with many a better man.
+D'ye hear, you old Pharisee!  Your white hairs under your
+wig sha'n't preserve you if Rafe Aglionby is roused.  And
+where would you be, rot you—Squire Berkeley of Winton
+Hall—you and your guineas—if I told what I know?"</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-108">
+<span id="fire-and-fury-shouted-aglionby"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="&quot;Fire and Fury!&quot; shouted Aglionby" src="images/img-235.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">"Fire and Fury!" shouted Aglionby</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had drawn at the same moment, and the
+two stood glaring at each other over the chair.  The old
+man, his face livid with passion, was in nowise daunted by
+the other's threats; Aglionby's cheeks were purple, and
+the veins on his brow stood up like whipcord.  For some
+moments both stood tense, each leaning towards the
+other; then the squire dropped his sword back into the
+sheath, gulped, and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, maybe I was hasty.  But you have a great
+deal to explain, Aglionby—a very great deal to explain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As I could have done, had you but given me time
+instead of treating me as you would a common pickpocket.
+By George!  Mr. Berkeley, Rafe Aglionby is not the man
+to stand that mode of dealing, as you well know, for all
+the luck has been against me these late years.  Who
+could have supposed that young Rochester, sink him! would
+escape from the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>?  Was that my fault,
+pray?  By what I can make out he jumped overboard
+off Gravesend and got aboard a Dutch brig, and the
+rascally Hollander—one Grootz, a smug corn-dealer—refused
+to give him up.  Could I help that?  Then, when
+I had my snivelling cousin Sherebiah fast in the net, could
+I prevent my lord Marlborough from signing his discharge
+and undoing all my work?  Could I?  I've had the worst
+of luck all through; and foul words won't mend matters.
+And, beshrew me, you were not over successful yourself
+with the cockerel's father, for all your guineas.  The
+youngster's a chip of the old block, and a precious hard
+chip too, rot him!  But I've vowed to carry the thing
+through; besides your affair, I've now one or two private
+accounts to square with him; and if you have patience
+and a trifle more courtesy—by George! you'll have no
+cause to complain of Rafe Aglionby."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The words came from him in a torrent.  He felt that he
+had a real grievance, and, as often with rogues, the
+possession of a grievance lent him words if not eloquence.
+But the squire still looking doubtful, Aglionby picked up
+a stained copy of the </span><em class="italics">Amsterdam Courier</em><span> that lay on a
+chair, and pointed to a paragraph giving in French an
+account, somewhat distorted but substantially accurate, of
+Harry's exploit on behalf of Sherebiah.  As the old man
+read it he pressed his thin lips together in vindictive rage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There for you!" pursued the captain.  "'Tis the talk
+of the town.  The youngster is making friends on all
+sides; he owns a commission in the Dutch army——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis true; a booby general got him the commission,
+and the lubber Grootz pays.  'Tis becoming more and
+more difficult to get at him; but I have a scheme—a
+pretty scheme, egad!—that can scarcely fail this time.
+All I need is a small sum to go on with—rat me, Squire,
+will you still sneer?  On my soul, I——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, Captain, your skin is surely thinner than it was."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And yours would be thin had ye not your guineas to
+line it with.  Hang me, Berkeley, a word from me——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, come," said the squire quickly, "'tis not for
+old friends to fall out.  You were talking of your scheme."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was saying that all I need is a small sum in
+advance—the rest may wait till the thing is done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is your scheme?  You do not expect me—no
+offence, Aglionby—to buy a pig in a poke this time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twere better, maybe——" Aglionby was beginning, but
+just then a footstep was heard on the stairs.  He evidently
+recognized it.  Hesitating for a second he lowered his voice
+and continued hurriedly: "'Tis one of the men engaged
+in the job.  I will call on you later at your inn.  'Twould
+be amiss were he to know you had any concern in it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Berkeley looked suspiciously at the captain, but, unable
+to fathom his embarrassment, he picked up his hat and
+slowly moved towards the door.  It opened in his face,
+and Polignac appeared.  He stepped back courteously to
+allow the older man to pass.  They bowed to each other,
+with a mutual glance of keen scrutiny.  The squire bade
+Aglionby good-day, refusing his attendance; and as he
+passed down the stairs Polignac entered the room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is your visitor, captain?" he asked.  "An English
+milord, by his appearance."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; a friend from England—an old friend of my
+family: a neighbour: in fact, our estates join—or all but,
+for 'tis but a narrow trout-stream divides 'em."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's manner was still a little flurried.  His mind
+was not very quick, and took time to adjust itself.
+Polignac threw his hat upon the table, sat astride of a
+chair, and went on with admirable gravity:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And the fishing—it is often, without doubt, what we
+Frenchmen call an apple of discord.  I have known so
+many disputes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The fishing! oh!—yes!—well, that arranges itself.  It
+is quite simple: we take one day, he takes the next."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tour à tour.  Admirable!  You English are the
+people for transactions!  I must make the acquaintance
+of your so accommodating friend and neighbour.  Is
+he—how shall I say it?—one of us?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No.  He takes no part in affairs.  He cultivates his
+estate.  His call now is merely in way of friendship."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! that is indeed amiable.  Parbleu, he has the
+look!  And what is he doing in this country?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby was growing restive under the cross-examination.
+He had the air of a witness who fears that he may
+be enticed into an admission against his will.  But he had
+not the wit to fence with his visitor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," he replied curtly.  "He comes with his
+son, that is in the army, and now joins his regiment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He has a son in the army?  My dear friend, certainly
+you shall present me.  I desire of all things to extend my
+acquaintance among your countrymen—in furtherance, it
+is understood, of my cause—of our cause, pardon me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear you will find little encouragement with him.
+He hates your countrymen as one hates a toad."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The amiable man!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's constrained manner had betrayed him to his
+astute visitor, whose curiosity was now effectually aroused.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, my good captain," he continued, "it shall
+be my pleasing task to convert him.  Indeed, you must
+present me.  He shall be a recruit—a little aged, perhaps,
+but what matters that?  In truth, it is an advantage, if his
+estates are as large as you say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not say his estates were large."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But they march with your family's—is it not so?  And
+unless I deceive myself, the D'Aglionbys are—how do you
+say it?—milords of the manor of half the comté of Viltshire.
+You remark, my dear captain, what a memory I have,
+even for your barbarous English geography."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The captain, more and more restive, fidgeted on his chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu, monsieur," he said doggedly, "you must
+allow me to be the judge who among my friends is likely
+to be of use to us.  This one, I say, is not; you must be
+content with that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, seeing that nothing was to be gained by
+pressing the matter in the captain's present mood, adroitly
+changed the conversation.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien!  As you will, my good captain.  You know
+my zeal in the cause, and Tout fait nombre, as we say in
+France.  Now, my friend, how goes our affair—yours and
+mine, I mean?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Aglionby's face cleared.  He was now on surer ground.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Admirably, admirably, monsieur.  Look you, I have
+arranged with some six stout fellows—every one to be
+depended on.  Nothing remains but to choose the hour
+and the place.  And besides, I have set Simmons on the
+watch: he comes here to report at five o'clock."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is now half-past two.  If it pleases you, mon
+brave,—there is time—we will have in a bottle of sack
+and drink success to our enterprise."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If it pleases me!  Parbleu, Polignac, I've drunk
+nothing but rum since Berk——since the last remittance
+from my agent was spent.  A bottle of sack!  Many I've
+emptied with the Czar of Muscovy, whose head, mark you,
+is not as strong as mine.  Certainly, a bottle of sack—the
+money, my friend?"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Some two hours later, Aglionby left the inn at which
+Mr. Berkeley was putting up.  His mood and mien were
+jovial; his rubicund cheeks even more ruddy than usual.
+He was too old and tough a campaigner, and too well
+seasoned by his experiences in Russia, to allow himself to
+be overtaken in liquor; but he was certainly in an unusually
+buoyant humour, and trod the street with a confident
+swing.  As he passed along, he jingled the money in his
+pocket, and appeared to take an uncommon pleasure in
+the sound.  His brow was clear, his eye bright, and he
+held half-audible communion with his thoughts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a hard world, Rafe my boy; odso, 'tis a hard
+world.  'Tis not often a man gets paid for doing what he
+would gladly do for nothing.  Ay, and 'tis less often he
+gets paid twice, begad!  Rafe, my bully boy, you're in
+luck.  Stap me, we'll break another bottle of sack and
+drink to your success.  Nay, nay; hold a little: business
+before pleasure.  A draft from our Hebrew friend—egad,
+they're the one good thing I know in Amsterdam; that is
+easily got; then a letter to the Elector's chamberlain;
+oons! 'tis more difficult, but to be faced; I'm no scholard,
+hang it, but I can pay some poor scrivener that is, whether
+'tis to be Latin or French; and to be Captain Rafe once
+more's worth a dollar or two for pen-work.  Then for a
+bottle at the Goudenhoof'd.  And to-morrow, my friend
+Rochester and my excellent coz with the scripture
+name—to-morrow, by the lord Harry, our final reckoning!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-dusk"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">In the Dusk</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Katrinka—Filial—Fine Feathers—A Practical Joke—Up a
+Tree—A Trap—In Waiting—The Last Minute—A Bolt from
+the Blue—Ad Misericordiam—A Theory—With Thanks</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry had for some time been itching for an opportunity
+of active service in his new calling.  Garrison life, with its
+drilling and exercising, was all very well, and he had much
+to learn; but the business of a soldier was to fight, and he
+was eager to take his share in the campaign, on the issue
+of which so many important interests depended.  His
+chance came at last, and though the result was too tame
+for his active spirit, he felt that it was at least a beginning.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of the first week in September his regiment
+received orders to join a corps forming under General
+Brulau to begin the investment of Limburg, a little
+hill-town south-east of Breda.  On the 10th the force of
+twenty-four squadrons encamped before the town, cutting off all
+access, and occupying the approaches and the lower town
+without resistance.  Some ten days later the Duke of
+Marlborough arrived with his main force; batteries played
+night and day on the upper town, and made so wide a
+breach that orders were given for a grand assault.  At
+this point, however, the French commander, seeing the
+futility of resistance and the hopelessness of relief from the
+outside, beat a parley, and in less than twenty-four hours
+agreed to surrender.  On the 28th the garrison of 1400
+men laid down their arms and marched out.  The duke,
+having taken possession of the place, announced that the
+campaign was closed, and the army would at once go into
+winter quarters.  Harry therefore returned to Breda
+without having drawn his sword, and had to reconcile himself
+to the thought of a long winter of inaction.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One morning a messenger came to him from Mynheer
+Grootz, bearing a present of tea and Japanese ware from
+the merchant to Madame de Vaudrey, part of a cargo
+from the east which had eluded the French warships and
+privateers that scoured the narrow seas.  Since the
+incident of Polignac's discomfiture at Lindendaal, Grootz had
+been assiduous in paying little attentions of this kind to
+the ladies, and often sought Harry's aid in conveying his
+presents.  Harry was somewhat amused at this amiable
+side of his former employer's character; Grootz was not
+on the surface a likely squire of dames.  No doubt, Harry
+thought, he was anxious about the welfare of the ladies
+in their solitary position, with no master of the house, but
+only a number of faithful though not too intelligent
+servants.  He was nothing loth to be the medium through
+whom these gifts reached Madame de Vaudrey, and he
+found that Fanshawe was always very ready to accompany
+him on these and other occasions.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It happened that on this day Harry was on duty, and
+saw no opportunity of getting away until the evening.
+Having been absent from Breda for nearly three weeks,
+he was anxious to learn how things were at Lindendaal.
+The proximity of Polignac always gave him some uneasiness,
+and though that gentleman's hold on the ladies had
+been effectually snapped, Harry felt by no means sure that
+he would accept his rebuffs as final.  He therefore sent for
+Sherebiah, and ordered him to ride over with Mynheer
+Grootz's parcel.  Sherebiah's eagerness to set off amused
+his master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to see Katrinka—is that it?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, her do have a good hand at griddle-cakes,
+and I ha'n't tasted ne'er a one for three weeks."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis cupboard love, eh, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth on't is, Master Harry, I be a-thinken o' old
+gaffer at home.  He's had a deal of trouble wi' maids and
+housekeepers; can't get ne'er a one to cook his bacon
+to his mind, and besides has a sweet tooth for
+griddle-cakes.  Katrinka be a rare buxom wench; not a beauty,
+sure, though handsome is as handsome doos; and when
+I found out her tidy ways and light hand wi' the
+kickshawses—well, says I, she be the right maid to keep old
+feyther o' mine above-ground for another ten year."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! and have you put the matter to Katrinka?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the rub, sir.  Her be in the main willen, but
+there's a worm in th' apple.  The truth on't is, sir, her
+have high notions."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!  She wants to be something better than a
+nurse-cook, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not zackly that, sir; her notions be husband high,
+sir; her won't make griddle-cakes for feyther o' mine not
+unless her be his darter, which is a backward way o'
+sayen, marry me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's terrible, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It med be wuss, Master Harry.  I ha'n't no fears
+myself, but 'tis old feyther I be thinken on.  'Ee see, I'm
+his boy; though I be forty-five by nature, to his old aged
+life I be but a younker yet; and I be afeard he'd think me
+a forrard youth did I venture a word about marryen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry laughed outright.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take my advice, Sherry," he said.  "If Katrinka's a
+good girl, get the knot tied; we sha'n't be home again
+for a year at least; you can break it gently to the old man,
+and sing the praises of your wife in respect of bacon and
+girdle-cakes and other housewifely virtues."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, sir; and 'ee won't mind if I be a bit late
+back, 'cos 'twill take a good time to talk over all that wi'
+Katrinka; her be terrible slow wi' her mind, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All right!  Get along; and you may give her a kiss
+from me.  'Tis the chubby one, isn't it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, sir; a apple face, wi' a dimple in the chin, and
+eyes as blue as her chiney, and hair this side o' red,
+and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there.  You're in a bad way, Sherry; go and
+get it over, man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Not long after Sherebiah's departure, Fanshawe came in.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think?" shouted Harry.  "That old
+oddity Sherry is in love with Katrinka, one of the maids
+at Lindendaal, but was afraid to pop the question lest his
+father thought him too young.  He has gone over to
+Lindendaal to-day; I fancy 'twill be a settled thing by the
+time he returns."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"  Fanshawe appeared somewhat constrained.
+"The fact is, Harry, I am riding to Lindendaal myself,
+and I came to see—to ask—that is, have you any message
+for the ladies?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No; as it happens, Sherry is taking them a parcel from
+Mynheer Grootz.—You've got a new coat, surely?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; you see my old one was faded; things bleach soon
+in this country——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And a new hat, I declare!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The old one was too vexatious shabby.  Then you
+have no message?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No; Sherry conveys my regards.  You'll have his company
+back; I suppose you will be rather late, and 'twill be
+no bad thing to have a companion; there have been one
+or two robberies by night on the Helmund road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Until the evening Harry was fully occupied.  The
+regimental riding-master had begged his assistance in
+training a number of recruits, and, since example is better
+than precept, he had been for several hours on
+horseback, showing the Dutch youths the manage of their
+steeds.  When this was finished he had a turn at the
+foils with the quarter-master, who had taken a fancy to
+him, and was wont to declare him one of the best swordsmen
+in the army.  After his evening meal he felt he should
+like to stretch his legs, and, guessing that Fanshawe and
+Sherebiah would soon be on the way home, decided to
+walk out and meet them.  It was a fine still evening, the
+road was dry, and a spin of a couple of miles, as far as a
+big chestnut-tree that marked the limit of the Sunday
+promenaders, would pleasantly end the day.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was going down as he left the walls of Breda
+behind him, throwing a long shadow on the road.  He did
+not hurry his pace, but ambled easily along, musing as a
+walker will, and paying little heed to things around him.
+His thoughts were bright and clear, for he was in the pink
+of physical health, and he felt that Providence was very
+good to him.  It was just a year ago that his father had
+died, and all the prospect looked black.  How strangely
+things had turned out!  The very event that had seemed
+to fling a pall over his life had really proved the entrance
+to the career nearest to his heart.  He was already
+impatient for the winter to be over; surely with the next
+spring the war would be prosecuted more vigorously, and
+the Dutch authorities would not hang like a drag upon
+the wheels of Marlborough's plans!  He was ambitious,
+as every young officer must be, to distinguish himself;
+and in his ambition there was a spice of </span><em class="italics">amour propre</em><span>;
+he felt that he should dearly like to prove to the great
+duke himself that he would have done no discredit to his
+sponsor if his commission had been an English one.  But
+a Dutch cornet, he thought, would have little chance of
+coming under Marlborough's personal notice; and, after
+all, what did it matter?  Duty was duty, wherever and
+for whomsoever it was done.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus weaving a chain of imaginings, he came to the
+big solitary tree before he was aware of it.  He halted;
+Fanshawe and Sherebiah were not in sight; the dusk
+was thickening, and he did not care to walk farther; yet,
+having come so far, he was loth to go back without them.
+Surely they could not be long now!  Opposite the tree
+there was a gate into a field.  He climbed on to that, and
+sat with his feet tucked below one of its bars, intending
+to wait their arrival.  From his higher position he now
+descried two figures in the distance; in another moment
+he saw that they were horsemen.  "Here they are at
+last!" he thought.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A whimsical idea flashed into his head.  They would not
+expect to see him; he felt sportive, the boyish instinct for
+fun asserting itself.  What if he could surprise the
+two—dart out on them unawares and make them jump?  The
+tree opposite overhung the road for several yards, its
+foliage was still fairly thick, for the season had been
+mild; the autumn frosts and gales had not yet begun;
+and it would provide ample shelter.  He sprang off the
+gate, ran across the road, leapt the ditch at the side,
+scaled the trunk with an agility bred of long practice in
+Wiltshire, and was soon hidden among the leaves, some
+fourteen feet above the road.  He filled his pocket with
+burrs he found still clinging to the branches, laughing
+inwardly as he pictured Fanshawe's consternation when he
+should receive one of those prickly missiles on his head.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soon he heard the measured beat of the approaching
+horses.  Peering between the leaves, he was disappointed
+to notice that the riders were not Fanshawe and Sherebiah
+after all.  One of them, a bulky man, had a familiar
+appearance, the other was masked; but in the first Harry
+recognized Captain Aglionby, and the second in figure
+and bearing unmistakably recalled Monsieur de Polignac.
+Harry wondered what was the meaning of the mask;
+knowing his men, he had little doubt that some villainy
+was afoot.  His wonder gave way to uneasiness when
+he found that, instead of passing the tree, they
+dismounted and stood exactly beneath him.  They opened
+the gate on which he had been seated a few minutes
+before, and led their horses through into the field, along
+the stone dike at the edge, and at some distance from
+the gate, as Harry could just see in the gathering
+darkness, secured them to the wall, after some difficulty in
+finding anything to hitch them to.  Then they returned
+to the road, talking in low tones, and looking expectantly
+up and down.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Sdeath!" muttered Aglionby, "what has become of them?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Raté encore une fois?" sneered Polignac, inferring the
+other's meaning from his tone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu!" growled Aglionby, adding in French:
+"They ought to have been here a quarter of an hour
+ago.  They cannot be long now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's curiosity was growing.  The two men were
+clearly expecting somebody; for a moment he wondered
+whether Aglionby was meditating another attempt on
+Sherebiah, but it could hardly be that, for the captain
+had looked towards Breda as he spoke, not in the other
+direction.  He listened with all his ears.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They may as well stay away altogether if the others
+are here before them.  We are only ten minutes ahead."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nearer twenty, if you believe me.  They were riding
+slowly when we saw them—a mile behind; and we saved
+several minutes by the short cut through the wood.  There
+is time yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, three figures could be dimly seen coming
+along the road from the direction of Breda.  Aglionby and
+his friend at once shrank back behind the dike, but after a
+moment's scrutiny, being apparently satisfied, came out
+again and stood waiting by the side of the road.  The
+three men approaching caught sight of them and hastened
+their steps, to be received with curses when they reached
+the spot.  One of the men, an Englishman, sullenly
+defended himself.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all due to that confounded church clock.  It has
+never gone right since Mr. Fanshawe tampered with it.
+But we are in time, Captain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No thanks to you," growled Aglionby.  "Where is
+the rope?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One of the other men opened a sack he carried, and
+produced a stout rope some thirty feet long.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take one end," said Aglionby, "and fix it to the
+gatepost; at the top, fool, not the bottom.  You, Simmons,
+take the other end and loop it once round the tree.  And
+quickly, do you hear?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>While the men were obeying his order, Aglionby put on
+a mask, not, as in Polignac's case, as a precaution against
+recognition by the hirelings, but by the victims.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry's uneasiness had become real alarm.
+Motionless in the tree, he durst not rustle the leaves to
+make a peep-hole; he could only judge of what was going
+on below by the words he heard.  It was clear that a
+carefully planned attack was to be made upon someone; he
+could not doubt that the someone was Sherebiah; both
+Polignac and the captain had heavy scores to pay off.
+Fanshawe would be involved in the same peril.  His
+notion of playing a trick was forgotten; there was serious
+work for him to do.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the rope lie on the road," he heard Aglionby say,
+"and you men remain at the tree ready to raise it and
+draw it taut at my signal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw through the scheme in a flash.  The rope
+was to be pulled taut across the road to stop the progress
+of the horsemen, and in the confusion the victim was
+doubtless to be attacked, every advantage being on the
+side of the ambuscaders.  And at this moment his ears
+distinguished the faint distant beat of hoofs on the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain," said one of the men, "what if I were to
+climb the tree and pick them off from above?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Crouching against the stem Harry felt his heart-beats
+quicken.  The suggestion if promptly acted on would be
+fatal to the project he had already formed to turn the
+tables upon the unsuspecting party beneath.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's pause.  Then another voice in
+low tones interjected:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear horses on the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," interposed Polignac, replying rapidly to the
+man's proposal.  "We must have two men at the rope
+if they are riding abreast; that leaves only three when
+we stop them; it is easy to miss in this dark night, and
+they are both ready with their weapons.  Remember,
+there must be no noise; one volley, then cold steel, lest
+we have the Breda garrison upon us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry wore his sword, and had with him the pistol
+without which he never stirred abroad.  He had been
+rapidly deciding upon his course.  If he was to be of any
+use, he must warn his friends before they came within
+range of the ambuscade; yet he durst not fire too soon,
+for the only result would be to bring them up at a gallop,
+and they would then almost certainly fall victims.  Now
+that almost complete darkness had fallen, he ventured to
+make an opening in the foliage and to peer cautiously
+down.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He saw Aglionby and Polignac on the other side of the
+road crouching behind the gate-posts.  Two men had
+concealed themselves behind the tree's thick trunk, holding
+the slack end of the rope; the third waited near them,
+pistol in hand.  Though Harry could not see weapons
+in the hands of Polignac and Aglionby, he had no doubt
+that they too had pistols, ready to be used as soon as the
+riders were brought to a stand-still.  On the side
+overhanging the road, the tree had been lopped of one or two
+lower branches, but a fairly thick bough ran out on the
+other side just above the man holding the pistol.  Quickly,
+for time pressed, yet with great caution in order to avoid
+the slightest noise, Harry crept from his perch over the
+road, sliding backward down the branch until he reached
+the trunk.  Then, holding his sword lest it clinked against
+the tree, he straightened himself and turned round, steadying
+himself with his free hand.  One careful step brought
+him to the fork of the horizontal stem and the parent trunk.
+He heard the hoof-beats coming very near; the riders could
+be but a few hundred yards away; fortunately the growing
+sound was loud enough to drown the slight rustle he could
+not avoid; and besides, the men below were too much
+preoccupied with their stratagem to have wits for anything but
+their advancing victims.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's feet were now wedged somewhat awkwardly;
+he felt by no means secure, and was for an instant
+perplexed how to dispose of his sword, for in drawing his
+pistol with the right hand he would need the left to
+maintain his equilibrium.  He hit on a solution.  Grasping the
+lower part of the scabbard with his knees he prevented it
+from rattling against the tree trunk; then, resting on his
+left hand, he bent over to get as clear a view as the
+circumstances afforded of the man immediately beneath.  For
+a second he hesitated.  It went against the grain to fire
+at the unsuspecting wretch; but the sound of the
+hoof-beats now certainly within musket-shot banished his
+hesitation and clinched his resolve.  It was life against
+life: the lives of Fanshawe and Sherebiah against those
+of the villains ambushing them.  Taking careful aim he
+fired.  The cry of the wounded man was smothered by his
+own shout:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, Fanshawe!  Jump the ditch and make for the tree!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Without waiting to learn the result of his warning, he
+sprang round, heedless now of what noise he made, and,
+swinging by a branch to his right, dropped to the ground
+just behind the two other men, who had let go of the rope
+in their alarm and were transfixed with terror and
+amazement, staring into the black depths of the tree above
+them.  One of them faced round as he heard the thud of
+Harry's descent.  Without pausing to draw his sword
+Harry hurled himself at the man, hit out at him with all
+his strength, and felled him to the ground.  The other,
+the first moment of paralysis past, whipped out a pistol
+and snapped it before Harry had time to recover himself.
+It missed fire; Harry closed with the man.  There was a
+brief, sharp struggle; in the midst came Sherebiah's voice:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where bist, sir, where bist?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here; by the tree; get a grip of this knave!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of Sherebiah's voice Harry felt his opponent's
+efforts relax; the man tried to free himself; but
+Sherebiah had ridden his horse up to the tree, and bending
+low from the saddle to distinguish between the combatants,
+he brought the butt of his pistol down on the man's head.
+He fell without a groan.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now Fanshawe dashed up.  His horse had slipped at
+the ditch, thus giving Sherebiah a slight start.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Two men on the other side of the road," panted Harry.
+"Follow me!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Springing across the ditch he gained the other side of
+the road, and vaulted the gate.  Fanshawe and Sherebiah
+had to dismount to follow him, for the road was too narrow
+to allow of their leaping the gate.  Aglionby and his
+companion had not waited; discovering that their plan had
+failed, they had hurried away towards their horses.  But
+they had not gone far.  Harry heard a noise ahead; there
+was a chance of overtaking them before they gained their
+saddles.  He dashed on over the stubble, and soon descried
+a broad figure lumbering along; from its stertorous
+breathing he guessed it to be Aglionby, an opinion confirmed
+immediately by the mingled oaths and entreaties which the
+captain sent after Polignac, who being lighter of foot had
+far outstripped his fellow-conspirator.  Hearing Harry's
+step just behind him, Aglionby at length halted, swung
+round, and fired his pistol.  But hard running and breathlessness
+flurried him and spoilt his aim; the ball whistled
+harmlessly past.  So impetuous had been Harry in pursuit
+that he had had no time to draw his sword.  He struck out
+at Aglionby, who only half warded the blow, staggering
+backward and endeavouring to parry this lively attack.
+Seeing his opportunity, Harry closed and tripped the big
+man up with a favourite fall taught him by Sherebiah;
+and Fanshawe coming up with Sherebiah at this moment,
+Aglionby was secured in a trice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That cursed coward!" he spluttered, as they led him
+back to the road.  "Odsnigs!  I'll be even with him for
+this."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," said Sherebiah, who had him grimly by the
+collar, "'ee'll never be </span><em class="italics">even</em><span> wi' un, Rafe Aglionby.  Your
+carcass'll need a longer rope."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all a mistake, coz, on my honour," pleaded the
+captain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't 'ee coz me, I disown 'ee.  I'll see a villain hung;
+and that'll be no mistake."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave him to me, Sherry," said Harry, "and go and
+see to the man we hit."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A short examination proved that the man Harry had
+shot was less seriously wounded than he who had fallen
+to Sherebiah's pistol-butt.  The third man whom Harry
+had knocked down had escaped in the darkness.  The
+other two, injured as they were, were unable to walk, so
+Harry had them hoisted on to the horses, where they
+were held up by Fanshawe and Sherebiah.  With Aglionby
+in his own keeping Harry led the march to Breda.  On
+arriving there, all three prisoners were handed over to the
+Dutch authorities, and Harry asked Fanshawe to his rooms
+to talk over this adventure of the road.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith," said Fanshawe, when Harry had explained his
+presence on the spot, "'twas a mercy you had the thought
+to walk out.  But it passes my understanding why that
+fellow Aglionby should have been minded to waylay me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas not you, 'twas Sherry that was the intended
+victim.  I told you of the neat way he bundled the captain
+out of Madame de Vaudrey's house; that was only one of
+several affronts the bully has had to suffer.  And I rather
+suspect that you were mistaken for me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How so?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas part of the scheme of old Berkeley's to get rid
+of me; of that I am sure.  And the other fellow, the
+Frenchman, must be pretty sore at his two discomfitures."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will, of course, inform against him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould be little use, I fear.  He was masked; I knew
+him only by his voice, and my testimony would not suffice
+to convict him on that ground alone."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Aglionby say nothing as you walked into the town?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing.  I plied him with questions, but he held an
+obstinate silence; scarce opened his mouth except to say
+'twas all a mistake."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure you are right.  Don't you think it may
+have been the Frenchman's plan—to get rid of me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why of you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you told me he is a suitor for Mademoiselle's
+hand——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He may have looked on me as a rival."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, that's a good joke.  You've known Mademoiselle
+for little better than a month."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  One can see you're young, Harry, and fancy
+free; I wish I were.  But your Monsieur de Polignac
+might have spared his pains."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're talking in riddles, Fanshawe; speak plain
+English, man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'twas true."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What was true?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"She wouldn't have me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stared in puzzlement.  Then a light dawned, and
+he smiled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say you've been on your knees to
+Mademoiselle Adèle?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I have!  By George, Harry! isn't she a splendid
+creature?  But she wouldn't have me: that's all over;
+life isn't worth living now: I don't care how soon a bullet
+puts an end to my miserable existence."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe sighed lugubriously; Harry laughed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor fellow! is it so bad as that?  She didn't fall a
+victim to your new coat, then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis all very well for you to laugh.  Wait till you
+suffer just such a rebuff."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what you said."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How do I know what I said?  I only know what she
+said.  She dropt me a curtsy, the hussy, and thanked me
+for the honour, and said she had no mind to a husband
+and would never wed, but stay with her mother.  And
+then she opened the harpsichord and said: 'Don't let us
+be children, Monsieur.  Sing me that amusing song of
+yours and be amiable.'  And 'pon my word, Harry, I
+couldn't resist; she has a masterful way; and when her
+mother came in there was I trolling 'Widdicombe Fair' as
+if there'd been never a word of love betwixt us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheer up! you were too sudden.  Wait a few months
+and then try your luck again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!  I know she won't look at me.  And take my
+advice, Harry.  If ever you fall in love with a girl, don't
+make yourself cheap and sing cheerful songs.  Egad, if
+I'd sung dying ditties and sighed like a furnace I might
+have had a different tale to tell.  I'll go to quarters;
+but I sha'n't sleep; I know I sha'n't; good-night!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-little-plot"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Little Plot</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Father and Son—A Message from Breda—An Afternoon
+Call—When Greek meets Greek—The Tug of
+War—Pourparlers—The Merk—Two Men and a
+Sack—Snatched from the River—Cousin Rafe—Scant
+Gratitude—A Ray of Light</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>One afternoon Squire Berkeley sat solitary in his inn at
+the Hague, warming his lean, withered hands in the blaze
+of a log fire.  The air was cold, and it had been raining
+heavily for hours.  The old man had laid aside his wig; a
+black velvet skull-cap covered his white hair to the ears;
+and, clad in the long cassock-like garment of rusty black
+that he always wore indoors, he might have passed, with
+his thin haggard cheeks, for an ascetic dignitary of the
+Church rather than the prosperous lord of an English
+manor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sat in a high-backed chair, staring into the fire.
+His lips moved as he communed with himself, and the
+expression of his face showed that his thoughts were none
+too pleasant.  Once or twice he clenched his teeth and
+brought his closed fist heavily down upon the arm of the
+chair; he sighed often, and looked the very image of a
+sad, anxious, embittered man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the door opened noisily and, with a gust of
+keen air that made the squire shiver, a young man entered
+the room.  It was Piers Berkeley, the squire's son.  He
+was dressed as usual in the height of fashion, but
+presented a bedraggled woebegone aspect now, his finery
+effectually ruined by the rain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Split me, father," he cried in a peculiarly high and
+affected tone of voice, "I'm verily the most wretched man
+on earth."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter?" said the old man, turning half
+round.  "Why have you left your regiment?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why!  Stap my vitals, 'tis what I wish to know.  I've
+rid post from Breda through the most villainous rain ever
+I saw.  Look, I'm splashed to the eyes; my third best
+wig is utterly ruined; the colour of my waistcoat has run;
+'twas a heavenly puce, and I'll be even with the tailor,
+hang him! that swore the colour was fast.  As for my
+new jack-boots—look 'ee, they're not fit for a ploughman.
+And why!  You may well ask."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you have a reason, I suppose.  You want more
+money for your drunken orgies—is that it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark to that, now!  Was ever poor wretch so scurvily
+used by his own father!  Why——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, a truce to your prating.  Your reason, sir, and
+at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A warm welcome, egad!  Well, sir, I've a something
+for you, a billet-doux; ha! ha!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The squire sprang up with an agility surprising in a
+man of his years.  There was a look of expectancy, almost
+of joy, in his eyes, and he held forth his hand eagerly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it me," he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will deal handsomely by me," said the youth;
+"consider, 'tis not every son would ride through pelting
+rain and spoil his garments withal for——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it me, I say," cried the old man passionately.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Piers took from an inner pocket a letter, sealed with
+a big red seal.  The squire's eyes gleamed as he took it
+and saw the handwriting of the address; his hand trembled
+as he tore away the seal and unfolded the paper.  Then
+came a sudden change.  The pallor of his cheeks became
+a deathly white, his features were distorted with rage, he
+muttered a curse and flung the letter to the floor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Gadzooks, 'tis not a billet-doux, then," piped his son,
+stooping to pick up the paper.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let it lie!" shouted the old man.  "Lay not a finger
+on it, you—you puppy!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there now," said the youth in an aggrieved
+tone.  "That is all the thanks I get for adventuring
+myself in the fury of the elements, and ruining past cure as
+fine a coat as ever was seen in Spring Garden."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!  Hold your foolish tongue!  You're a useless
+fool!  You're a scented fop, the mock of every farthing
+playwright in the kingdom.  Heavens! what have I done
+that I should be cursed with a brainless, senseless
+coxcomb that can do nothing but squander good money in
+fal-lals and worse!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Odsnigs! 'tis most villainous injustice.  I can do
+many things, egad.  I can make a good leg, and trounce
+a watchman, and pink a cit, and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of my sight, out of my sight!" cried the exasperated
+father, stepping forward with uplifted hand as though
+to strike the poor fool.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zoons!  I protest this——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he left the sentence perforce unfinished, for the
+squire caught him by the shoulders and exerting all his
+strength thrust him from the room, turning the key, and
+standing for a moment with hand on heart to recover his
+breath.  Then he suddenly opened the door again, caught
+the young man before he had gone three steps, swung him
+round, and holding him in a firm grip said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"See that you say nothing of this.  You know nothing
+of that man, that Aglionby, except that you met him on
+the packet-boat; you hear me?  Presuming on that
+acquaintance he sought your assistance; you have wit
+enough to remember that?  And you are not to go near
+him again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, I've no wish to.  Once is enough.  A prison
+cell is no place for me.  I had to hold my nose; and egad,
+to use a whole bottle of scent afterwards."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The old man pushed him contemptuously away, returned
+to his room, and again locked the door.  He picked up
+the letter, sat down in his chair, and, crouching there,
+seemed to have shrunk even to less than his former
+meagre bulk.  He read the letter again.  It ran:—</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"SIR,</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fate is against me.  In pursuit of the Businesse you
+wot of, I am at this present layd by the heels, in Jail, under
+sentence to be Hang'd.  Young Rochester &amp; my Cozen have
+done it.  'Tis nessessarie for you to pulle me out of this Hole, &amp;
+speedilie, or </span><em class="italics">I'll tell All I knowe</em><span>.  The Meanes I leave to you; I
+advize to comunicate with Mr de Poliniac at his house in the
+Plein; he will helpe: he has </span><em class="italics">Goode Reasone</em><span>, for at a Worde from
+me he'll </span><em class="italics">swing too</em><span>.  No more at this Present from yr humble</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"RALPH AGLIONBY.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"P.S.—I knew your Sonne was in Breda.  He </span><em class="italics">knowes Nothing</em><span>."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The squire tore up the paper and flung the pieces on the
+fire.  For a few moments he sat in thought; then he rose
+and went into an ante-room, returning soon in his
+outdoor attire—wig, cocked hat, and long cloak.  A few
+minutes later he was walking at a brisk pace through the
+rain towards the house mentioned in Aglionby's letter.
+He knocked at the door; there was no answer; the green
+shutters were closed, the house had the appearance of
+being shut up for the season.  He knocked again, and yet
+again, with growing vehemence, attracting the attention
+of passers-by.  At length the door was opened for a few
+inches.  Mr. Berkeley pushed it, but it was on the chain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Qu'est-ce que Monsieur demande?" said a voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur is not within," said the same voice in English,
+the speaker having detected the squire's nationality
+by his accent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is he?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, Monsieur, I am not sure where my master is
+at this moment; but if Monsieur will leave a message——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Something in the man's manner assured Mr. Berkeley
+that he was lying.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Look 'ee, my man," he said sternly, "I counsel you
+to bethink yourself.  I will walk for five minutes, in the
+rain; you will have time to acquaint your master that an
+English gentleman whose name is probably unknown to
+him desires to see him on a very urgent matter—in the
+interest, mark you, of himself.  An urgent matter, mark
+you.  In five minutes I will return."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On returning Mr. Berkeley was instantly admitted.
+The manservant, cowering beneath his stern look, led him
+meekly to a room off the hall, where he found Polignac in
+long cloak and jack-boots, evidently on the point of
+departing on a journey.  The squire gave him a keen glance,
+and was not surprised to find that it was the same man
+whom he had met at the door of Aglionby's attic some
+months before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my name, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Berkeley.  I met you at Aglionby's.  It
+is for him I come.  I desire a word with you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am at your service, Monsieur.  Shall we be private?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It will doubtless be better so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac shut the door, and offered Mr. Berkeley a seat.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, I will stand; I need not detain you long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have heard, Monsieur, of the plight into which
+our friend Captain Aglionby has fallen?—I say </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> friend."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not dispute the phrase, Monsieur.  I had heard,
+as you surmise."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me—as he is our friend—am I right in assuming
+that the news may have some little connection with
+your purposed journey?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Since, as you say, he is </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> friend, I do not deny it,
+Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So that it will be, let us say, not disagreeable to you
+if some means of—of cheating the hangman—I am a plain
+blunt man, Monsieur—should be discovered?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, Monsieur, I do not follow you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley looked at him keenly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had a letter from our friend," he said slowly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I also, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He solicits my assistance."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And mine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I came at once to see you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I, Monsieur, leave at once for Paris."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac, leaning against the window-frame, had an
+inscrutable smile upon his face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will sit down," said Mr. Berkeley, placing a chair
+with its back to the door; "I find our interview will last a
+little longer than I looked for."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please, Monsieur.  You will permit me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac seated himself at the table.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It appears, Monsieur," said the squire, "that I should
+have said </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> friend."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Again, Monsieur, I will not dispute the phrase.  His
+family estates join yours, I understand?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know; I only repeat what your friend told me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand," said Mr. Berkeley hurriedly,
+feeling that by his unguarded exclamation he had lost
+one point in the game.  "Not precisely adjoin, but the
+phrase is sufficiently exact: we are neighbours."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And naturally you are concerned at the hapless situation
+into which your neighbour's evil star has brought him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is so, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Especially seeing that his evil star's influence extends
+also to you; is it not so?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As a neighbour and friend, you mean, Monsieur?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I do not mean that.  I cannot say, like you,
+Monsieur, that I am a plain blunt man, but I think with
+small effort you will understand my meaning.  I put myself
+in your place.  Suppose, I tell myself, a neighbour of mine,
+whom I had found useful, had in the course of some
+enterprise on my behalf been so unlucky as to come into the
+grip of the law; naturally I should feel deeply concerned
+in his fate, and certainly I should do all in my power to
+save him, especially if I knew that the said enterprise was
+one that the law would look unkindly on.  Such would be
+my sentiments, Monsieur, and I do not suppose myself
+different from other men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The case is so well put, Monsieur, that it would seem
+to fit your situation to a nicety."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Appearances are then deceitful, Monsieur.  Strange
+to say, I had the same thought with regard to you.  Your
+friend the captain is not a hero, certainly not a martyr,
+and even though a few vindictive words at the last would
+not save his neck, yet to a man of his disposition it would
+sweeten his end to know that another shared his fate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had been growing visibly restive.  How
+much did this suavely malicious Frenchman know?  He
+dared not question him plainly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak, Monsieur, of a few vindictive words.  It
+is clear to me that Aglionby has threatened you——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And I care not a jot for his threats," interrupted
+Polignac.  "As you are aware, I am about to depart for
+Paris; eh bien!  Monsieur le Capitaine's threats will not
+reach me there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But if I save him, Monsieur?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac's mouth twitched.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a vengeful man," pursued the squire.  "I should
+have no object in concealing from him your notions of
+the obligations of friendship; and since it appears that
+you, on your side, permit yourself to talk of an 'enterprise'
+and 'the grip of the law', does it not occur to you
+that the captain, and I myself as his friend, might make
+things—well, very unpleasant for you?  And remember,
+you are not in Paris yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's silence, taking advantage of
+which Mr. Berkeley leant forward and, tapping Polignac's
+knee, added:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Monsieur, let us understand one another.  It is
+to my interest that Captain Aglionby should not die—by
+the hangman; it is to your interest—correct me if I am
+wrong—that he should not live, or you will find this
+country shut to you.  Our interests appear to clash; but
+is it not possible—I throw out the suggestion—to reconcile
+them—to gain both our ends?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Polignac smiled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us talk as friends, Monsieur," he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>An hour passed before Mr. Berkeley left the house.  It
+was still raining, but his gloomy expression had given
+place to one of fierce satisfaction.  Polignac bade him a
+cordial adieu at the door, and as soon as he was gone
+called his servant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Antoine," he said, "unsaddle my horse.  I do not ride
+to-day."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>One evening, at dusk, Harry Rochester, whom no experience
+could cure of his habit of taking solitary strolls,
+was seated on a bridge spanning the Merk at a short
+distance outside Breda.  His thoughts were anything but
+pleasant.  Aglionby and his associates, though defended
+by the sharpest criminal lawyer in Holland, had been
+condemned to death, and the execution had been fixed for the
+morrow.  Harry knew that the captain richly deserved his
+fate; his action in betraying his cousin Sherebiah in itself
+put him beyond the pale of pity, to say nothing of his
+persistent offences against Sherebiah's master, which Harry
+was more ready to forgive.  But despicable as the man
+was, Harry, almost in spite of himself, felt a certain
+compassion for him.  He had learnt from Sherebiah something
+of his history.  His mother, old Gaffer Minshull's sister,
+had died when Ralph was very young, heart-broken by
+her husband, one of Cromwell's Ironsides, yet a hypocrite
+of the most brutal type.  Aglionby had received a fair
+education, but had run wild from boyhood, and as a mere
+youth had decamped or been driven from his father's house
+and gone out into the world to seek his fortune.  Sherebiah
+had lost sight of him for years; suddenly he had
+reappeared at Winton St. Mary, seared with travel and
+hard faring, and full of stories of adventure and prowess
+in all parts of Europe, especially in the service of the
+Czar of Muscovy.  Harry knew as much as Sherebiah
+of his subsequent career, and shared the surprise of the
+whole village at the strangely close acquaintanceship
+between the captain and the squire.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was the man who was to die next day, and Harry,
+sitting on the bridge, one hand clasping his knee, almost
+wished that he had let the villain go.  He had been brought
+up in the worst school; all his life long he had been an
+Ishmael, his hand against every man, every man's hand
+against him.  His mother had been a Minshull: surely
+there was some seed of good in him; mayhap his villainies
+were only the desperate expedients of a man who had no
+means of livelihood; certainly he could have no cause of
+enmity against Harry, and his machinations must be put
+down to the man who employed him.  His approaching
+fate weighed also upon Sherebiah, who had for days gone
+about with restlessness and anxiety printed upon his
+usually jocund face.  Certainly the good fellow had no
+reason to love Aglionby, but after all they were of the
+same blood, and Sherry appeared to fear keenly the
+shame and disgrace.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Looking over the glooming river, idly watching the rolling
+water and the scattered buildings upon the bank, Harry
+suddenly perceived a small door open in the face of a store
+or warehouse some few yards to his left.  The door was
+some thirty feet above the river, and gave upon a narrow
+platform to which goods were hoisted by a crane from
+barges below.  As the door opened, inwards, a head
+appeared.  The owner looked for some time up and down
+the river, over which darkness was fast falling.  All was
+quiet; no traffic was passing; no craft indeed was to be
+seen save one small boat, moored to a post on the bank
+some yards on the other side of the bridge.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The head disappeared, but immediately afterwards two
+men emerged from the doorway, coming sideways through
+the narrow opening.  Between them they carried a large
+sack which their exertions showed to be heavy.  They
+came to the edge of the platform; they laid their burden
+down; then, giving a quick look around, with one push
+they toppled it over, and it fell with a sounding plump
+into the water.  It disappeared below the surface; after a
+moment the two men returned into the warehouse, and the
+door was shut.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The rivers were such common receptacles of rubbish
+that Harry would not have given a second thought to this
+incident but for a certain furtiveness in the manner of the
+two men.  He wondered what the sack contained.  All
+at once he saw it reappear on the surface, several yards
+nearer to him; the stream was flowing fast in his direction.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis maybe a superfluous dog," he thought, for only
+an animal was likely to rise after such an immersion.  Yet
+it was large for a dog.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sack came steadily towards him: it was about to
+pass under the single arch of the bridge: he leant over
+to watch it: and with a start of amazement saw dimly a
+white human face.  At that same moment the bundle
+sank again.  Harry could not know whether it was man
+or woman, whether alive or dead, but without an instant's
+hesitation he ran to the other parapet, sprang on it, and
+dived into the river.  A drowning man rises three times,
+he had heard; perhaps there was a chance to save this poor
+wretch, whoever it might be, and foil his murderers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Coming to the surface with a gasp, he looked around
+for any sign of the dark bundle, fearing lest in the
+blackness of the encroaching night he might lose it altogether.
+For some seconds he saw nothing; then, a few yards
+away, it bobbed up.  Three or four vigorous strokes
+brought the swimmer to it just as it was going down
+once more.  He seized it with his left hand and,
+supporting the head above the water, made for the bank,
+luckily no more than seven or eight yards distant.  He
+hauled the heavy object up the sodden slope, stooped down
+to examine it, and saw that it was a man tied up to the
+neck, and with a gag about his mouth.  It was the work
+of a moment to tear away the gag.  He placed his hand
+over the man's heart: did it still beat?  He could not tell;
+all feeling seemed to be deadened within him by his
+excitement and strain.  The man made no sound or
+movement.  Harry shivered and thought he must be dead; of the
+means to resuscitate a half-drowned man he knew nothing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few seconds passed; then he heard hasty footsteps
+behind him, and turned just as Sherebiah sprang down
+the slope.  The faithful fellow had been again playing his
+part of watch-dog; he had seen Harry's plunge into the
+river, and raced round the embankment in alarm.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fecks, you give me a jump, sir," he panted.
+"What's amiss?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Sherry, look; 'tis a man, in a sack; the poor
+wretch is drowned, I fear."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis murder then.  Let's see, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He stooped down, cut the fastenings of the sack, and
+pulled it off the body.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now sir, lend a hand.  Fust thing is to pour the
+water out of un."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He was gagged, Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then that saves our time.  A gagged man can't ship
+many gallons o' water.  Leave un to me, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He quickly opened the man's coat and vest, bent over
+him, and pressed heavily beneath his lower ribs.  Then he
+sprang back, and again bent forward and pressed.  After
+repeating these movements several times, he went to the
+man's head, took his arms and pulled them back till they
+met behind, then jerked them forward upon his breast.
+A gurgling sound came from the man's lips.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He be alive, sir," cried Sherebiah.  "Another minute
+or two and we'll have un on his feet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A great sigh escaped from the prostrate form.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, master," said Sherebiah, ceasing from his
+exertions.  "You've got your breath again, thanks be.
+Now, take your time, and don't get up till 'ee feel
+disposed: only bein' drippen wet the sooner you be dry the
+better, so——Sakes alive!  Master Harry, 'tis my
+good-for-nothen cousin Rafe Aglionby, and no one else."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Rafe, man, can 'ee open your eyes?  'Tis me and
+Mr. Rochester; you be safe."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Both Harry and Sherebiah were now stooping over the
+captain.  His eyes opened; the same choking sound came
+from his lips.  For some minutes he lay gasping,
+wriggling, endeavouring vainly to rise, the others watching
+him the while with mixed feelings.  His recovery of
+consciousness was slow: at last his movements ceased,
+he heaved a great sigh and looked up with intelligence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How be'st come to this?" asked Sherebiah.  "Thowt
+'ee was ripe for hangman this time, coz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Rot you!" spluttered the captain, struggling to his
+feet.  "Hands off!  Shall I never be quit of you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks!  That's your thanks!  Come, Rafe, blood's
+thicker nor water, as 'ee said yourself: you've broke prison
+sure enough, but they'll be after 'ee afore mornen.
+Mr. Rochester ha' saved 'ee from drownen, but you must put
+a few miles betwixt 'ee and hangman afore you can rest
+easy.  How be'st come to this, man?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, I tell you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you be drippen wet, Rafe; you'll cotch your death
+o' cold;—and faith, so will Master Harry.  Better get
+home, sir, and change your things."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No hurry, Sherry.  Captain Aglionby, believe me, you
+must make yourself scarce.  You've done me many an
+ill turn, for what reason I know not.  But that's past
+now; I have no wish to give you up to the hangman.
+There's a boat moored to the bank a few yards down:
+you had better take that, and row through the night.
+Sherry, you're dry; change clothes with the captain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have none of his clothes.  I'll take the boat.  Out
+of my way!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Escaping from Sherebiah's grasp, Aglionby stumbled
+away in the direction of the boat, the other two
+watching him in silence until the darkness swallowed him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Unthankful viper!" muttered Sherebiah.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To save a foe's life is an injury never forgiven," said
+Harry with a shrug.  "I'm shivering, Sherry: let us get
+back."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay sure.  But I'd like to know what be the true meanen
+o' this.  To be saved out o' jail and then chucked into
+river—why, in a manner o' speaken 'tis out o' fryen-pan into fire.
+One thing 'tis sure: my coz Rafe bean't born to be hanged nor
+drownded neither: question is, will it be pison or a
+dagger-end?  But you be mortal cold, true; we'll home-along, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They returned to the city, and were passing a large
+inn in the market-place when Harry suddenly touched
+Sherebiah on the arm.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry, you see that man at the door of the coach
+there?  'Tis one of the men I saw fling Aglionby into the
+river.  I know him by his cap."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I' feck, we'll have a nearer sight on un, and see who
+he be speaken to in coach.  Keep close, sir, and we'll take
+a peep at 'em unbeknown."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Crossing to the other side of the street, and keeping
+well in the darkness, they quickly made their way towards
+the coach, and reached a position whence, by the light of
+the inn lamp, they could see into it without being seen.
+Each turned to the other in silence, astonishment and
+conviction in their eyes.  The occupants of the coach were
+two: Mr. Berkeley and Monsieur de Polignac.  It was to
+the latter that the man at the door was speaking.  They
+were clearly at the end of their conversation; the man
+touched his cap and withdrew, and as the coach drove off,
+a look of gratification shone in the faces of its two
+occupants.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you make of that, Sherry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Make on't! 'tis plain as a pikestaff.  Dead men tells no
+tales; that's what I make on't, sir.  Rafe Aglionby knows
+a mort too much for they two high-liven villains; that's
+where 't is: they got un out o' jail to stop his tongue at
+scaffold foot, and then pitched un in the river to cool it
+for ever.  'Tis a mortal pity we let un go, sir, for't seems
+to me we ought to know what he knows, and get to the
+bottom o' the squire's desperate work agen you.  But you
+always was a tender-hearted Christian, like your feyther
+afore 'ee."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't let murder be done before my very eyes,
+Sherry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you'll have to see wuss now you be a man o'
+war, sir.  Well, 'tis heapen coals of fire on his yead, as
+the Book says, and mebbe Them above'll reward 'ee
+for't; ay, so."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="marlborough-s-march-to-the-danube"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Marlborough's March to the Danube</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">A Foreigner at the Hall—War Again—Good-bye!—Comparisons—Up
+the Rhine—A Bold Stroke—Marlborough's Way—Despatches—A
+Mission to Eugene—Fanshawe Missing—The Road to
+Innsprück—Zum Grauen Bären—Mein Wirth—Breakfast at
+Three—The Second-best Room—A Trap-Door—Midnight
+Visitors—A Hasty Toilet—A Sound on the Stairs—Through
+the Copse—Stampede—The Lieutenant of the Guard—At
+Obermiemingen—The Little Abbé—Max Berens—A Surprise
+Visit—Mein Wirth Explains—Injured Innocence—In the
+Net—Hobson's Choice—The Missing Messengers—In Terrorem</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>No soldier worth his salt ever endured the long idleness
+of winter quarters patiently, and Harry Rochester was not
+an exception to the rule.  As the weary months passed
+slowly by, he grew tired of the endless drilling and
+exercising, varied by marching and sham fights.  He was very
+popular with his captain, Willem van der Werff, and the
+other officers of the regiment, but found himself unable
+to take much interest in their amusements.  Beer-drinking
+was not to his taste; the Dutch comedies performed at the
+theatres were dull, and the paternal government prohibited
+the performance of lighter French pieces.  As the winter
+drew on he had opportunities of skating, and became
+so proficient as to win a prize at a regimental match;
+but the frost was not of long duration.  He was not a
+fellow to allow time to hang on his hands.  He practised
+broadsword and sabre with Sherebiah, read a great deal
+of Dutch, studied all the military histories on which he
+could lay hands, and spent many an hour poring over
+maps until he had the geography of all central Europe
+at his finger-ends.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>No great news came from the outside world.  In
+November the Netherlands suffered in some degree from
+the fierce storm that swept through the Channel, strewing
+the English shores with wrecks, ripping off trees at the
+roots, blowing down churches and houses.  In the same
+month also the Archduke Charles passed through Holland
+</span><em class="italics">en route</em><span> for England and Spain, to assume in the latter
+country the sovereignty which was the bone of contention
+between his father the Emperor and King Louis of France.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Almost the only relaxations in Harry's life were his visits
+to Madame de Vaudrey's house, where both he and
+Fanshawe were always welcome guests.  They formed with
+Mynheer Grootz a little house-party there during the New
+Year week.  It happened that on the last day of the year
+1703 Sherebiah received a letter from his father: a rare
+event.  One piece of news it contained was much discussed
+at Madame de Vaudrey's table.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now I must tell you," wrote old Minshull, "as Squire
+hev had a Visiter for a matter of munths.  'Tis a tall blacke
+Frenchman by his looks and Spache, a tarrible fine gentleman,
+with a Smile &amp; a twitching Mouthe.  Squire &amp; he be alwaies
+together, moste particler Frendes it do seeme.  None of us soules
+can't abide him, nor the Qualitie neither.  For myself, I don't
+like his Lookes, not me, &amp; 'tis luckie he can't understand
+English, for being a Man to speake my Minde I say things nowe
+and again as would turne his blacke Hair white."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry had already mentioned having seen Polignac drive
+away from Breda in company with the squire.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The odious man!" cried Madame de Vaudrey, when
+Harry translated the gaffer's letter.  "I only wonder that
+the other man, that insolent captain, is not with them.
+I wonder where he is?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," said Harry, who had kept his own
+counsel regarding the last he had seen of Aglionby.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope he will never cross my path," said Mynheer
+Grootz.  "He is truly a villain, a dastard: to inform on
+his cousin, and to plan the attack on Harry, and to have
+the insolence to pay court to Madame la Comtesse!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," said the lady, "and my dear husband
+not four years dead!  Who is the squire that your old
+friend writes of, Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is lord of the manor at my old home, Madame.
+His son is in one of our foot regiments, and Mr. Berkeley
+came over to Holland with him: it was then he met
+Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui se ressemble s'assemble.  What is the name of
+the bad old man, Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Berkeley!"  Madame de Vaudrey puckered her brow
+and appeared to be reflecting.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How ugly your English names are!" exclaimed Adèle,
+"and how difficult to say!  I cannot even yet say
+Rochestair properly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You say it better than you say my name," said
+Fanshawe gloomily.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But then I have known Monsieur Rochestair longer,"
+returned Adèle.  "Shall we go into the drawing-room,
+Mamma?  I do so want to hear Monsieur Fanshawe sing
+that amusing song of his again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe glowered.  He knew that Adèle was teasing
+him, and wished with all his heart that he could recall the
+luckless moment when he had first amused her with the
+song of "Widdicombe Fair".  Harry's eyes twinkled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Madame de Vaudrey, "you young people
+can precede us to the drawing-room.  I have a little matter
+of business to talk over with our good friend Mynheer
+Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then Adèle's eyes caught Harry's, and they both smiled
+as at some secret known to them alone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Time passed away, and at length, when the winter was
+gone, and the gray Dutch sky was rifted with the blue of
+spring, came the welcome news that Marlborough had
+arrived at the Hague and that a great campaign was to
+open.  No one knew what the duke's plans were, but there
+was a general feeling that stirring events were preparing,
+and a universal hope that the long series of small
+engagements, sieges, marches and counter-marches would be
+brought to an end by a decisive pitched battle.  Mynheer
+Grootz was working night and day at commissariat
+business, and for weeks there was a continual bustle of
+preparation: the cleaning of arms, the testing of harness, a
+thousand-and-one details that employed countless people
+beside the soldiers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At length a day came when, all preparations completed,
+the eager troops were ready to march out.  Harry and
+Fanshawe, accompanied by Sherebiah, rode over to
+Lindendaal one evening to take farewell of the ladies.
+Fanshawe was in the dolefullest of dumps.  Notwithstanding
+Adèle's refusal of him, he had still nursed a hope that time
+might prove on his side, but found every hint of a
+sentimental nature adroitly parried, and now feared that with
+his absence his last chance would disappear.  His spirits
+were raised a little by the warmth, and indeed effusiveness,
+with which she bade him good-bye.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall hope to hear great things of you, Monsieur,"
+she said, "and to learn that you have come through the
+campaign unscathed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your good wishes shall be my talisman, Mademoiselle,"
+said Fanshawe gallantly, bowing over her hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry meanwhile had taken leave of Madame de Vaudrey,
+who held both his hands and spoke to him with a quite
+motherly tenderness.  Then he turned to say good-bye to
+Adèle.  She had disappeared.  Fanshawe had already gone
+out to the front of the house to see that his horse's girth
+was rightly strapped, and Harry followed, thinking that
+Mademoiselle had perhaps accompanied him to the door.
+But as he passed through the hall, he saw through the
+open door of the dining-room that Adèle was there,
+standing at the window with her back to him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are, Mademoiselle," he said, entering the
+room; "I was looking for you.  It is a longer good-bye
+this time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She turned round slowly, and her back being to the
+sunset glow he could scarcely see her features.  She held
+out her hand, and said slowly, with perhaps a little less
+cordiality than he had unconsciously expected:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He took her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then
+was gone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he left the porch he saw Sherebiah coming round
+from the garden with his arm unblushingly about the waist
+of Katrinka, the prettiest maidservant of the house.  The
+honest fellow led the girl up to his master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I've done it, sir," he said.  "Her've said it.  Feyther
+o' mine may think what a' will, but, an't please Them above
+to bring me through, by next winter there'll be a Mistress
+Minshull once more to comfort his old aged soul.  Eh,
+Katrinka, lass?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The girl looked shyly up and dropt a curtsy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pon my soul, Sherry, you're a lucky fellow," said
+Harry.  "My old friend will be pleased, I promise you.
+And look 'ee, I'll give you five minutes to say good-bye
+to Katrinka while Mr. Fanshawe and I ride on."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee, sir!  I'll catch 'ee up, soon as her be
+done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry has had better luck than you, Fanshawe," said
+Harry with a smile, as they rode off.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, confound him!  But hang it, Harry, I'll not give
+up hope yet.  She was very kind to me when she said
+good-bye, and, by George! if I only escape a Frenchman's
+bullet and can manage to come off with flying colours and
+a neat little sabre-cut—who knows? she may be Mistress
+Godfrey Fanshawe yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was silent.  He felt a little surprised, perhaps
+a little hurt, that Adèle should have shown more warmth
+to Fanshawe, a friend of later date.  He did not know
+what he had expected; he could not, indeed, have put his
+thoughts into words; but the coldness of Mademoiselle's
+farewell, so strongly contrasting with Madame's affectionate
+manner, had left him vaguely dissatisfied and made
+him disinclined to talk.  Fanshawe, however, was in high
+spirits, and chattered freely as they went side by side at
+a walking pace along the road to Breda.  Sherebiah by
+and by overtook them, and kept a few yards behind.  He
+too was in capital spirits, and, having no one to converse
+with, was humming as he rode:</span></p>
+<blockquote>
+<div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"So Tom Pearce he got to the top o' the hill,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee;</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And he seed his old mare a-maken her will,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Whiddon, Harry Hawk, old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all,</span></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span>"So Tom Pearce's old mare, her took sick an' died,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>All along, down along, out along lee,</span></div>
+</div>
+<div class="line"><span>And Tom, he sat down on a stone, an' he cried,</span></div>
+<div class="inner line-block">
+<div class="line"><span>Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter——"</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Confound you, Sherry!" cried Fanshawe, who had
+been so busy talking that not till this moment had he
+recognized the song.  "Hanged if you are not always
+singing that wretched 'Widdicombe Fair'!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, sir.  No offence.  'Tis a favourite ditty
+o' mine, and, axin' your pardon, I thowt 'twas one o'
+yourn too."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay; anything else, anything else, my good fellow, not
+that, as you love me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir.  I be in a mind to troll a ditty, 'tis
+true, and if my tenor tones don't offend 'ee, I'll try a stave
+o' 'Turmut-hoein'."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning, under a bright May sun, the troops in
+Breda marched out to join the Duke of Marlborough at
+Ruremond.  As Harry's troop passed Lindendaal, and
+he caught a glimpse of fluttering handkerchiefs at the
+windows, he could not help wondering whether he should
+see those kind friends again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At Ruremond the troops were reviewed by the duke
+himself; thence they marched to Juliers and Coblentz,
+where they halted for two days to allow the Prussian
+and Hanoverian levies in British pay to unite with them.
+Everybody had expected that the march would be continued
+up the Moselle, with the purpose of coming to grips
+with the French army under Marshal Villeroy.  But to the
+general astonishment orders were given to cross that river
+by the stone bridge, and then the Rhine by two bridges of
+boats, and to proceed through the principality of
+Hesse-Cassel.  The new orders were eagerly discussed by the
+officers of all the corps, but Marlborough had kept his own
+counsel, and indeed at this time his plan was known to
+scarcely anyone but Lord Godolphin, with whom he had
+talked it over in outline before leaving England, and
+Prince Eugene of Savoy, to whom he had entrusted it in
+correspondence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The plan must have seemed hazardous, even reckless, to
+soldiers who held by the old traditions; but it was one that
+displayed Marlborough's military genius to the full.  He
+had divined the true meaning of the recent movements of
+the French armies, and determined on a great effort to
+defeat the aim of King Louis so shrewdly guessed at.
+Relying on his ally, the Elector of Bavaria, the French
+king had resolved to make a strenuous attack upon the
+Emperor in the heart of his own dominions, Vienna.  If
+Austria were crushed in one great battle, Louis had reason
+to expect a general rising of the Hungarians, by which
+the empire would be so much weakened that he could
+enforce peace and secure the triumph of his policy on his
+own terms.  Already a French army under Marshal Marsin
+had joined forces with the Elector of Bavaria; other armies
+were rapidly advancing to reinforce them, and the
+combined host would be more than a match for any army that
+the emperor could put in the field against it.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Marlborough saw only one way to save the empire: he
+must prevent if possible the junction of the several French
+armies, or, if that were impossible, defeat them in a pitched
+battle.  But he knew that the States of Holland would
+shrink from the risk of an expedition so far from their
+own borders; he therefore gave out that his campaign
+was to be conducted along the Moselle, and only when
+he was well on his way, and it was too late to oppose
+him, did he reveal his full design.  Fortunately the Dutch
+Government rose to the opportunity; they sent him the
+reinforcements and supplies he asked for, and were
+satisfied with the detachment of one or two small forces to
+keep watch on Villeroy, who had crossed the Meuse and
+was threatening Huy.  For himself, Marlborough intended
+to press forward with all speed towards the Danube, join
+Prince Louis of Baden and Prince Eugene of Savoy, and
+give battle to the combined French and Bavarians on
+ground of his own choosing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For Harry this famous march was attended with endless
+novelty and excitement.  Every morning at dawn camp
+was struck, and for five or six hours, with occasional
+halts, the troops marched, covering twelve or fifteen
+miles, and bivouacking about nine o'clock, thus
+completing the day's work before the sun grew hot.  All
+along the route supplies for man and beast were furnished
+by commissaries, whose duties were so well organized that
+everything was on the ground before the troops arrived,
+and they had nothing to do but pitch their tents, boil their
+kettles, and lie down to rest.  Everything was arranged
+and carried out with matchless regularity and order;
+Marlborough himself had a thorough grasp of the details, and
+showed such consideration for his men that on personal
+grounds he won their admiration and confidence.  The
+passage of so large and miscellaneous a force, consisting
+of English, Dutch, Prussians, Danes, and levies from several
+of the minor German states, might well have been attended
+by many disorders; but Marlborough always displayed
+great humanity in his dealings with the people of the
+country through which he passed, and in these matters
+an army takes its cue from the commander-in-chief.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After quitting Coblentz, the duke went forward a day's
+march with the cavalry, leaving the artillery and foot to
+follow under the command of his brother, General Charles
+Churchill.  Unfortunately rainy weather set in towards the
+end of May, and the roads were rendered so difficult that
+Churchill's force lost ground, and by the time Marlborough
+reached Ladenburg, on June 2, was four or five days behind.
+This delay gave the duke some little cause for anxiety, for
+he had learnt that Prince Louis of Baden, a brave but
+sluggish general of the old school, had allowed reinforcements
+to reach the Elector of Bavaria, and failed to seize an
+excellent opportunity of defeating the combined force.
+Marlborough, wishing on this account to hurry his
+advance, sent back two troops of Dutch horse to assist his
+brother with the cannon.  One of these happened to be
+Harry's.  The heavy Flemish horses were serviceable in
+dragging the guns, but the rains were so persistent and the
+soft roads so cut up that when Churchill reached Maintz
+he was still some five days' march behind the duke.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Late on the night of June 3, when the camp was silent,
+a courier reached Maintz with the following despatch from
+Marlborough at Ladenburg:—</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"I send this by express on purpose to be informed of the condition
+you are in, both as to the troops and the artillery, and to
+advise you to take your march with the whole directly to Heidelberg,
+since the route we have taken by Ladenburg will be too
+difficult for you.  Pray send back the messenger immediately,
+and let me know by him where you design to camp each night,
+and what day you propose to be at Heidelberg, that I may take
+my measures accordingly."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>General Churchill was roused from sleep to receive the
+despatch.  He at once wrote his reply, but on sending it
+out to the messenger learnt that he had been suddenly
+seized with illness, and was unable to ride.  Churchill then
+sent for Captain van der Werff, and asked him, since he
+had already ridden the Ladenburg road with his troop,
+to despatch the letter by one of his subalterns.  The
+captain, who knew of Harry's relations with Marlborough,
+pleased himself with the thought of bringing the two
+together again, and, to Harry's unbounded delight, ordered
+him to ride at once to Ladenburg.  Before he went he
+was summoned to the bedside of General Churchill, and
+saw the tall, thin, battered form of that excellent soldier
+in the unheroic attire of night-shirt and cap.  From him
+he learnt, in case of accident, the gist of the message,
+which was that Churchill undertook to arrive at Heidelberg
+on June 7.  Harry started before dawn, and reached
+the camp at Ladenburg early.  He had crossed the Neckar
+by the bridge of boats used by Marlborough's troops on
+the previous day, and found the army encamped along the
+river-side opposite the town.  The usual daily march had
+been pretermitted, in order to allow time for the infantry
+to make up something of the ground it had lost.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Harry was taken into the presence of the
+commander-in-chief, Marlborough was engaged in conversation
+with Count Wratislaw, the emperor's agent, Colonel
+Cadogan, his quartermaster-general, and other officers of
+his staff.  The duke had learnt that Prince Eugene of
+Savoy was on his way to join him, and was anxious that
+the meeting should take place as soon as possible, so that
+the plan outlined in their correspondence might be
+discussed in full detail.  He had sent two messengers with
+letters to meet Prince Eugene, informing him of his
+whereabouts and urging him to hasten his coming; but neither
+had returned, and he could not but fear that some
+mischance had befallen them.  But it was a characteristic of
+Marlborough's that, whatever his difficulties and anxieties,
+he preserved always the same outward appearance of
+settled calm—a great factor in his power over men.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He received General Churchill's letter from Harry's
+hand with a pleasant smile and word of thanks, and bade
+him wait, to see if it demanded an answer.  Then he
+resumed his conversation, which was conducted in French.
+Before long Harry, though he remained at a distance too
+great to allow of his hearing what passed, judged from
+the glances thrown occasionally in his direction that
+something was being said about him.  Presently Marlborough
+beckoned him forward.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rochester," he said, "I have an errand for you.
+I wish to communicate with Prince Eugene of Savoy; two
+of my officers whom I sent to him have apparently
+miscarried; I wish to try a third.  You have had experience
+in getting about the country, and I know from one or two
+incidents in your late career that you have your wits about
+you and can make good speed.  You will carry a letter
+from me to Prince Eugene.  I will inform your colonel
+that I have employed you on special duty.—Mr. Cardonnel,
+be good enough to write from my dictation."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He dictated a short note to his secretary.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You understand French, of course, Mr. Rochester?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I need not repeat my message.  You will keep
+it in mind in case circumstances should require you to
+destroy the letter.  You may meet with danger on the
+road; otherwise I am at a loss to know why I am without
+a reply to my two former letters.  You must therefore
+be on your guard.  You will use all dispatch, hiring fresh
+horses wherever it may be necessary—without, of course,
+incurring needless expense.  I opine that you may meet
+Prince Eugene at Innsprück; Colonel Cadogan will furnish
+you with a map; your best road will lie through
+Heidelberg, Wisloch, and the Swabian Alb.  When you reach
+the prince you will doubtless be fatigued; his reply may
+be sent by another messenger, to whom you will give such
+hints for his guidance as your own journey may suggest.
+In that case you need not unduly hurry your own return,
+and on your way back you may find it possible to make
+enquiries regarding the fate of my missing messengers:
+they were Lieutenant Fanshawe of the Duke of
+Schomberg's Horse, and Lieutenant Buckley of Colonel
+Cadogan's.  Do you know either of them?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lieutenant Fanshawe is an old friend of mine, my
+lord," said Harry, "but I don't know Lieutenant
+Buckley."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well.  His Excellency Count Wratislaw here
+will, I doubt not, favour you with a letter of safety which
+will avail you with any of the civil authorities whose
+assistance you may need </span><em class="italics">en route</em><span>; but since 'tis advisable
+to attract as little attention as possible, I counsel you to
+make no use of the letter except on emergency.  'Twill
+be common knowledge along the road whether the prince
+has passed on his way to the army, so that you should meet
+with no difficulty in finding him.  Perhaps, the two
+lieutenants having apparently come to grief, 'twould be well
+for you to ride incognito.  What is your opinion, Colonel
+Cadogan?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, my lord, let him go as a young English milord
+making the grand tour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But he would then need a servant and baggage."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Give out that his servant has broken his leg or is laid
+up with the colic, and he is riding post to Venice; his wits
+will invent a reason."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, sir, I would rather go as I am," said Harry.
+"My errand would not then be complicated."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The simpler way is often the best," said the duke.
+"Very well.  Here is the letter; I will send you Count
+Wratislaw's shortly; you will then set off at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry bowed and withdrew, feeling highly elated at
+being entrusted with this mission.  It was an expedition
+on which he would gladly have had the company of Sherebiah;
+but there was no time to send for him; besides, one
+might go more safely than two.  An hour later, furnished
+with a supply of money by Colonel Cadogan, he rode off
+on a fresh horse, passed through Heidelberg without delay,
+by favour of Count Wratislaw's safe-conduct, and struck
+into the long straight road that led due south through
+Leimen and Wisloch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>What had become of Fanshawe, he wondered.  It was
+a friendly country; the enemy were, so far as he could
+gather, no nearer than Ulm on the Danube, so that it
+was little likely that Fanshawe had fallen in with French
+or Bavarian troops.  On the other hand, the country was
+infested with spies, and here and there in out-of-the-way
+spots bands of outlaws were said to have fixed their
+haunts, whence they made depredations on neighbouring
+villages.  But it was useless to speculate on what might
+have happened, and Harry took care not to awaken
+curiosity or suspicion by any premature enquiries.
+Stopping merely to change horses at posting inns and to
+snatch a light meal, he reached Stuttgart about six
+o'clock in the afternoon, having ridden sixty miles since
+he left Ladenburg.  This, with his previous ride from
+Maintz, had made him stiff and sore; but, tired as he was,
+he determined to push on after a short rest, and reach, if
+possible, the little town of Urach that night.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soon after leaving Stuttgart he entered the district
+known as the Swabian Alb, a country of wooded
+mountains and picturesque, well-watered valleys, now in all their
+midsummer glory.  The road became steeper after he had
+crossed the river Neckar, and as his horse was labouring
+somewhat he began to wish that he had remained to sleep
+in Stuttgart.  He was still some miles short of Urach
+when he came suddenly upon an inn, standing back from
+the high-road, and nestling among a group of tall,
+full-leaved beeches.  It bore the sign "Zum grauen Bären".
+The pleasant situation and the warm colours of this
+Swabian hostelry were very inviting to a tired man.  His
+mouth was parched with thirst; his horse was panting
+and steaming; and a short rest would do both of them
+good.  A moment's hesitation; then he wheeled to the
+left, and was met by the landlord, who rose from a bench
+before the inn, where he was smoking his evening pipe
+along with a squat companion looking like a farmer.
+The landlord was not so attractive in appearance as his
+inn, but he gave Harry a suave greeting in German, and
+asked how he could serve the noble Herr.  Harry had
+picked up a word or two of German in Holland, and asked
+in that tongue for the refreshment he desired; but at the
+first word the landlord gave him a sharp yet furtive look,
+immediately effaced by his wonted bland smile.  He went
+into the inn, and soon returned with a cup of wine, while
+an ostler brought a pail of water for the horse.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was glad to rest his aching limbs on the bench,
+and to sip the cool Rhenish.  The landlord, standing by
+him, showed a desire to be conversational.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr is for Urach?  He will scarcely get
+there to-night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke now in a mixture of German and bad French.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, is it so far?" said Harry.  "I thought I was
+nearly there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Excellency, it is not very far; but the town
+council has become somewhat timid since the French and
+Bavarians came prowling along the Danube, and the gates
+are shut at half-past seven."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A solitary horseman will not scare them," said Harry
+with a smile.  "They will surely open to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, Excellency.  The order is stern.  Why, only
+yesterday a Rittmeister passing to join the forces of the
+Prince of Baden was refused admittance just after the
+clock had struck, and had to come back to this very inn.
+Donner, was he not angry, the noble Herr!  But anger
+cannot pierce stone walls; the gentleman uttered many
+round oaths, but he came back all the same.  Was it not
+so, Hermann?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His thickset companion assented with a rough "Jawohl!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can but try," said Harry, thinking of Count
+Wratislaw's letter as his open sesame.  "I shall ride on
+in a minute or two."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord lifted his eyebrows.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr has perhaps more persuasion than the
+Herr Rittmeister.  But if you find it as I say,—well, there
+is good accommodation within."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the inn with his companion, leaving Harry
+on the bench.  Harry reflected.  It was absurd to tire
+himself needlessly; he had ridden with brief intervals for
+nearly eighteen hours since he left Maintz, and felt by no
+means eager to get into the saddle again.  Perhaps it
+would be best to close with the man's offer, sleep at the
+inn, and start fresh early in the morning.  Yet he
+hesitated; there was something about the landlord that he did
+not like; he felt for him one of those unaccountable
+antipathies that spring up at a word, a look, a touch.  But
+the feeling was vague and unsubstantial; after a moment
+he dismissed it as unreasonable, and concluded that his
+best course would be to take his rest now rather than run
+the risk of having it deferred for some hours.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He went into the inn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr decides to stay?" said the landlord.
+"Well!  I would not persuade, but I think you are right,
+Excellency.  Johann, take the gentleman's horse to the
+stable.  I will see then that a room is prepared.  And you
+will like supper, Excellency?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes.  Anything will do."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He accompanied the ostler to the stable and saw the
+horse well rubbed and fed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose horse is that?" he asked, noticing a sorrel in
+the next stall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He belongs, Excellency, to the gentleman now with
+the host, by name Hermann Bart, a farmer of the district."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! he looks a strong beast—the horse, I mean.  I
+shall want to be off at dawn; you'll see that my horse is
+ready?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Returning to the inn, he ate the plain supper brought
+him by an old woman as deaf as a post.  While he sat at
+table the landlord stood opposite him, attentively
+anticipating his wants.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I can have a light breakfast at three, landlord?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Excellency; we are early birds here, though
+in these times there are few travellers along the road,
+more's the pity."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Is there any news of the armies hereabouts?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why yes.  Only yesterday—so it is said—the Elector
+of Bavaria crossed the river at Ulm, and the Prince of
+Baden, who 'tis to be hoped will beat him, stands
+somewhat higher up at Ehingen across the mountains yonder."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have not been troubled yourself by the soldiers?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never a whit, Excellency.  And I trust I never shall
+be.  They march, you see, along the rivers, and my little
+place is out of their route.  You are travelling far, mein
+Herr?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a great distance," replied Harry, thinking it
+prudent to give no information.  The landlord made no
+attempt to press him, but kept up a desultory
+conversation until he had finished his supper.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go and take a look at my horse, and then turn in."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He went out to the stable, and noticed that the second
+horse was gone.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your friend the farmer has gone home then?" he said
+to the ostler.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Excellency, some time ago."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My horse is comfortable, I see; good-night!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he left the stable he heard the man behind him
+whistling as he gave the cobbles a final sweeping for the
+night.  The tune seemed familiar, but Harry was not
+sufficiently interested to give another thought to it.  The
+landlord met him at the door with a lighted candle and led
+the way to his room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a small room, Excellency," he explained apologetically;
+"not such a room as befits a gentleman of your
+rank.  But the truth is, the heavy rains of late have found
+out a weak spot in the roof, and my large guest-chamber
+is consequently very damp.  The small room here to the
+left is, however, very comfortable; it was last occupied by
+an Austrian nobleman who slept through the night
+without turning an eyelid."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it will suit me very well," said Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Breakfast at daybreak, you said, Excellency?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will want nothing more to-night?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing.  Good-night, landlord!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry shut the door and shot the bolt.  He thought the
+Austrian nobleman must have been easily satisfied.  The
+room was about twelve feet by seven, and contained
+nothing but a bed and a chair.  There was one small
+window opening on to the courtyard some thirty feet
+below, the view of the yard being partially obstructed by a
+projecting wing of the house immediately beneath.  The air
+of the room being very stuffy, he opened the window wide;
+then he undressed, blew out the light, and got into bed,
+pulling out the blanket, which seemed somewhat frowsy,
+and finding enough warmth in the light coverlet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he found it impossible to sleep.  He was in fact
+overtired, and bodily fatigue often makes the mind only
+more active.  He fell a-musing, and wondered what it
+was in the landlord's manner that he disliked.  Through
+the window came the sound of the stableman's whistle as
+he locked the yard gate, and Harry tried in vain to
+recollect where he had heard the tune before.  The ostler was
+a happy fellow, evidently; perhaps his master was better
+than he appeared.  The whistling ceased, a door banged,
+presumably the man had gone to bed; "and he'll sleep as
+sound as a top," thought Harry.  He turned over on to
+his back and stared at the ceiling, which consisted of thick
+beams with rough boards between.  By and by he noticed
+a dark square outline in the planking just above him.  He
+could not see it distinctly, for the beams of the rising
+moon did not fall upon it directly, but across the bed,
+making the room itself fairly light.  For a time he looked
+idly at the square; it was evidently a trap-door.  He
+began to be curious about it, then was aware of an
+indefinable, inexplicable sense of uneasiness, of insecurity.
+He felt that he could neither withdraw his gaze from the
+trap-door nor put it from his thoughts.  He turned on
+to his right side, away from the window, but in a few
+moments was on his back again, staring up as before.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This is ridiculous," he said to himself impatiently.
+"I wonder whether the thing has a bolt."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, and, standing on the bed, found that with
+outstretched hand he could just reach the boards.  Exploring
+the edge of the trap-door with his fingers he soon
+discovered that there was no bolt, though there had evidently
+been one at some time, for on a second search he felt an
+iron socket let into one of the adjacent joists.  He raised
+himself on tiptoes and gently pushed at the door.  It rose
+slightly; clearly it was not fastened above.  No glimmer
+of moonlight came through the small gap between the trap
+and the ceiling; therefore it did not give directly upon the
+roof, but probably opened into an attic or loft.  There was
+nothing more to be discovered, and indeed he scarcely felt
+that he needed to discover more, for his uneasiness had
+already been largely dissipated by action.  He lay down
+again, and tried to sleep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This time he was successful.  How long he slept he did
+not know.  He suddenly awoke, and at the first moment
+of consciousness remembered the ostler's tune; he
+identified it now; it was something like Fanshawe's song of
+"Widdicombe Fair".  He was not enough of a musician
+to decide how close was the resemblance; country songs
+of different nations were, he supposed, often alike.  Glad
+that his puzzlement was gone, he settled himself once
+more to sleep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>All at once his senses were roused to full activity by the
+sound of two or more horses approaching the inn, at a
+walk, as he knew by the fall of the hoofs.  It was very
+late for travellers; besides, travellers would probably have
+ridden up at a trot; he wondered who the riders could
+be, and listened intently.  In a few moments the sounds
+ceased; then through the open window came the murmur
+of low voices.  Springing quietly out of bed, he went
+to the window and peeped cautiously out.  Five men
+were leading their horses into the copse immediately
+opposite to the inn.  The short squat figure of one of
+them reminded him of the farmer whom he had seen
+with the landlord a few hours before; he seemed the
+shorter by contrast with the next man, a tall massive
+figure.  They went quietly, and disappeared into the
+copse; soon afterwards four of them emerged from the
+trees and approached the inn.  Not a word was spoken;
+the men were apparently walking on tiptoe; but there
+came the slight sound of a door opening and closing, then
+dead silence again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Harry was as wide-awake as ever he had
+been in his life.  His uneasiness returned in full force, and
+was now magnified into suspicion.  The landlord's furtive
+look and unsatisfactory manner; the story of the closing
+of the gates of Urach; his lame explanation about the
+room; the absence of a fastening to the trap-door; the
+disappearance of the landlord's forbidding companion; the
+reappearance of the same man with a number of others;
+their stealthy movements, and the fact that they had tied
+their horses up in the copse instead of bringing them into
+the courtyard—all these were links in a chain of suspicious
+circumstance, of little significance singly, but disturbing
+when taken together.  And the stableman's tune—what
+did that mean?  Was it actually the tune of "Widdicombe
+Fair", and not merely one resembling it?  Had the ostler
+heard it from Fanshawe's lips?  Was he on the track of
+the explanation of the disappearance of one of
+Marlborough's messengers?</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Quickly and noiselessly Harry slipped on his clothes.
+His first duty was, of course, to deliver the duke's letter;
+nothing must interfere with that.  His suspicions might
+be utterly groundless, but on the other hand they might be
+only too well justified.  He must be on the safe side; it
+was necessary to put himself out of harm's way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Only one staircase led to his room: it sprang from the
+narrow entrance-hall of the inn, on each side of which
+were the doors of the rooms on the ground floor.  He
+could scarcely hope to be able to pass down, however
+stealthily, without being discovered; and even if he did
+succeed in this and left the inn, he would be immediately
+seen by the fifth man, who, he guessed, had been left in
+the copse to keep watch on the front door.  The staircase
+being given up, there remained only the window and the
+trap-door.  By placing the chair upon the bed and
+mounting it he might manage to swing himself up through the
+trap-door; but it flashed upon him that if any mischief
+were intended the midnight visitors would certainly
+approach through the attic or loft above.  He remembered
+passing, at the head of the stairs, a door which he had
+taken to be that of a cupboard; it might be the entrance to
+a stair leading to the loft, and if he tried that exit he would
+certainly be in an even worse trap.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A glance from the window determined his choice.  There
+was a drop of about fifteen feet from it to the roof of the
+outbuilding.  In the moonlight he caught sight of what
+appeared to be the top of a drain-pipe from the roof of this
+lower building to the ground.  The drain-pipe would form
+an easy means of descent could he gain the roof.  There
+was only one way to do that: to descend by aid of a rope.
+Without hesitation he drew the thin coverlet from the bed,
+and tore it across the middle.  Knotting the two pieces
+together he rolled up a clumsy but serviceable rope.  The
+window was only two feet from the bed-post.  He tied the
+rope to this, slung his boots round his neck, wrapped his
+scabbard in a corner cut from the blanket, to prevent its
+clanking, and prepared to descend.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was fortunate that the window was already open, for
+the creaking of the frame might have attracted attention.
+There was a risk that the man in the copse might see him
+as he got through the window; but the moon was now
+above the house, and the overhanging roof cast a deep
+shadow over all below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had his hand on the broad window-sill, preparing to
+begin the descent, when an idea gave him pause.  How
+ridiculous he must appear if his suspicions turned out to
+be baseless, and he had slunk like a thief from the house!
+How humiliating would be his situation if he were caught
+in the act and treated as a doubtful character!  He could
+not be suspected of stealing; there was nothing to steal;
+but he might be thought to be running away without
+paying.  He could prevent that, at any rate.  He put a
+gold piece on the chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's double pay," he thought.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But still he hesitated.  No man cares to look a fool, and
+he would certainly look very foolish if his imagination
+proved to have run away with him.  But what is that?
+A slight creak on the stairs, then another.  Now a faint
+rustle outside the door.  Holding his breath he listens.
+Yes, the supposed cupboard door is being opened; a
+moment, then he hears the faint but unmistakable creak
+of footsteps on the crazy stairs leading to the attic.  He
+hesitates no longer.  In two minutes at the most the
+intruders will have come through the trap-door into the
+room.  Throwing one leg over the window-sill, he grasps
+his rope with one hand and the sill with the other; over
+goes the other leg, and now he is hanging by the frail
+rope.  He feels the soft material yield to his weight; it is
+stretched to its full extent; it holds!  He needs it for only
+a few feet.  Down he glides: his feet touch the slates of
+the outhouse; now he is in full view from the copse save
+that a chimney-stack on the roof throws a black shadow all
+around him.  Will he escape notice?  Keeping the chimney
+between him and the copse he crawls slowly over the slates
+and finds as he had hoped that the rain-water pipe is out
+of sight.  He slips over, grasps the pipe, and is half-way
+down when there is a noise in the room above; and as his
+feet at last touch the ground he sees two faces at the open
+window and hears loud shouts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had already resolved on a risky experiment; it
+appeared his only chance of escape.  He had noticed that
+the country around, though hilly, was bare of vegetation
+except about the inn, where trees had been planted to
+tempt wayfarers.  He knew that as soon as he got away
+from the buildings his figure would be seen in the bright
+moonbeams, and he was bound to be ridden down.  The
+shouts from the window might be expected for the moment
+to hold the attention of the man on the watch.  Relying
+on this, Harry darted across the road in the shadow of the
+outbuildings and dived into the copse some twenty or
+thirty yards from the place where the men had entered
+with the horses.  Bending low, moving rapidly, yet with
+all possible caution, among the trees, he bore to the left
+towards the single watcher, whom he could now hear on
+the road shouting in answer to the men in the house.
+Harry could not distinguish their words, but judged from
+the vehemence of their tone and his own consciousness of
+his design that they were bawling to the sentinel to return
+to the horses he had left.  It was a question which should
+reach them first.  The copse was almost dark; a glint of
+light from the moon filtered through the foliage here and
+there.  Running in his stockings Harry made no noise;
+but he could already hear the heavy trampling of the man
+as he plunged through the trees somewhere to his left.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he came to a narrow clearing; on the other
+side he saw the horses tethered to the trees.  Keeping just
+within the edge of the copse he ran round at his utmost
+speed towards the animals, and just before he reached
+them saw that their guardian had arrived at the end of the
+clearing nearest to the road and had stopped in the attitude
+of listening.  There was much hubbub from the direction
+of the inn, and by the sounds Harry knew that several men
+were crossing the road towards the copse.  The horses
+were between him and the solitary sentinel.  Coming to
+the nearest, he cast off its bridle, then, vaulting to the
+saddle, he drew his sword and cut the bridles of the others,
+which were standing head to head, loosely attached to the
+projecting branch of a small tree.  The man gave a shout
+and rushed forward when he saw Harry on the horse.
+It was a moment for quick decision.  Smartly hitting the
+four intervening horses with the flat of his sword, Harry
+set them scampering through the edge of the copse.  The
+man could not evade them, and in a moment he was
+knocked down.  Harry meanwhile, trusting to the
+darkness, followed on the heels of two horses which were
+heading through the clearing towards the inn.  At the
+outer edge of the copse he was encountered by two men
+who attempted to catch his rein.  Toppling one over and
+cutting at the other he gained the highway; then set his
+borrowed steed to a gallop and rode on towards Urach.
+"A near shave!" he thought.  He stopped a few hundred
+yards from the walls to put on his boots, then rode up to
+the gate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was shut, and he had some difficulty in rousing the
+gatekeeper.  When the man came at length to his summons,
+he refused point-blank to allow the rider to enter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't wait," cried Harry.  "Seek the officer of the
+watch; I'll not answer for what may happen if you delay me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The gatekeeper went away grumbling and returned with
+the lieutenant of the town guard, who held a pistol and
+asked Harry's business.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am on a mission for my lord Marlborough," said
+Harry.  "This letter from his Excellency Count Wratislaw
+will satisfy you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The officer tried to read the letter by the light of the
+moon, but finding this impossible, waited until the
+gate-keeper had lit his horn lantern.  Then, having read the
+letter, he ordered the man to open the gate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you ride farther to-night, Monsieur?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am dog tired," replied Harry.  "Will you direct
+me to a lodging?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me to offer you the hospitality of my own
+quarters.  The inns are all closed, of course; you are a
+very late traveller, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I have been somewhat delayed on the road.  If
+you will give me sleeping quarters for a few hours I shall
+be obliged to you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In less than a quarter of an hour he was fast asleep.
+At four he was wakened, according to instructions given
+before he turned in.  Stiff and sore as he was, he meant
+to ride on at once, for the sooner his mission was
+completed the sooner would he have the opportunity of seeking
+an explanation with the innkeeper, which he promised
+himself should be a thorough one.  The lieutenant of the
+guard, a pleasant fellow, had a light breakfast ready, and
+was eager to give information about the road.  From him
+Harry learnt that the highway to Biberach would lead
+through the lines of Prince Louis of Baden.  Though he
+had no instructions to avoid the prince's army, he thought
+it very probable that he would best serve the duke by
+preventing gossip.  So, finding that by diverging somewhat
+to the right and taking the road by Riedlingen he would
+pass outside Prince Louis's lines and lose little time, he
+decided to adopt this course.  Thanking his entertainer,
+and promising to call on him on the way back, he set off
+on his ride.  Not a word had he said about his adventure
+at the inn.  It would be time to deal with that when his
+duty was done.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry rode a hundred miles that day, reaching the town
+of Immenstadt in the evening.  He met with no adventure
+on the way; he found ready service at the inns at which he
+stopped to change horses, rest, and eat.  But at the day's
+end he felt all but worn out.  The sun had shone brilliantly,
+scorching his face, neck, and hands, and causing much
+discomfort to his horses.  They suffered, however, less than
+he, for while the steeds were changed at short stages, the
+rider was always the same.  He got some little relief by
+walking up the steepest hills along the road.  His
+physical state and his preoccupation made him oblivious of the
+scenes through which he passed; afterwards he had but
+the vaguest recollections of hill ridges, bosky dells, blue
+lakes, and dark masses of rock, with a miry road winding
+among them, and here and there inns where he was
+thankful to rest awhile.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He slept that night at Immenstadt, rose reluctantly early
+next morning, and started for what he hoped was the last
+stage of his journey.  About ten o'clock he arrived at the
+little village of Obermiemingen.  As he rode in, he noted
+signs of excitement in the street.  The whole population
+seemed to be gathered about the inn.  At the door stood
+a heavy travelling coach with four horses, two of them
+saddled for postilions.  His arrival diverted the attention
+of some of the peasants to himself, and they parted to
+make way for him.  Dismounting stiffly he went to the
+inn-door and called for the host.  After some time a servant
+came to him and explained that mine host was engaged at
+that moment with his Excellency Prince Eugene of Savoy,
+who had driven up shortly before attended by two officers
+and thirty troopers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I am in luck's way," said Harry.  "I have a
+letter to his Excellency: conduct me to his room."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Two minutes later he found himself in the presence of
+the renowned soldier: the man who, mocked at in the
+French court as the "little abbé" and refused employment
+by King Louis, had ever since lived for nothing else but to
+prove himself a thorn in that monarch's side.  He was of
+somewhat less than the middle height, dark-complexioned,
+with refined though not small features, and large flashing
+eyes.  Harry presented his letter; the prince having read
+it, laughed and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Marlborough is anxious, Monsieur.  But a
+few hours ago I received a message from him—dated
+several days back, it is true: you have had better fortune
+than the first messenger.  The letter was brought to me at
+Innsprück by a farmer from the Swabian Alb; the courier,
+an officer of my lord Marlborough, had fallen from his
+horse, it appears, and being conveyed to a cottage the
+children had made free with his wallet while he himself
+lay insensible and their elders were attending upon him.
+For myself, I suspect it was the elders who were curious.
+But the letter contained no more than this one you have
+brought, so their curiosity reaped but little gratification.—Now,
+are you to carry my answer to my lord?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If your Excellency wishes," said Harry, "but my lord
+duke told me I might use another hand if I were fatigued."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And that you certainly are.  You must have come at
+great speed, and I will not tax you further.  Very well.  I
+am proceeding to Immenstadt; there I shall await a
+communication from Vienna, and then go directly forward to
+my meeting with the duke.  I will acquaint him of my
+design by a messenger of my own.  Pray refresh yourself
+now, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes the prince drove off with his escort,
+and Harry enjoyed a sort of reflected importance.  He was
+given the best the inn could afford, and provided, after
+some delay and difficulty—his request was almost
+incomprehensible to the landlord—with the luxury of a bath.
+He remained in Obermiemingen until the heat of the day
+had spent itself, then cantered easily back to Immenstadt,
+where for the first time for many days he slept the
+round of the clock.  Reporting himself to Prince Eugene
+next morning, he learnt that the expected messenger from
+Vienna had not yet arrived, and having nothing to detain
+him there he started on the road back.  There was no need
+for hurry; that day he rode seventy miles, to Riedlingen;
+then next morning he went on to Urach, where he at once
+looked up the amiable lieutenant of the guard who had
+treated him so well on his way through.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are back then, Monsieur?" said the lieutenant,
+greeting him heartily.  "I did not tell you before, but
+the truth is I was not at all sure you would reach your
+destination safely."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And you didn't wish to frighten me!  But why, Monsieur?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There are bands of marauders in the hills; deserters,
+broken men, and what not, ready to snap up any unsuspecting
+traveller who promises to be worth it.  They have
+done much damage in the neighbourhood, robbing and
+plundering undefended farms and hamlets, and though we
+are strong enough here to beat them off we cannot risk an
+expedition against them, and Prince Louis of Baden is too
+much occupied, I suppose, to give any heed to our requests
+for assistance."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Monsieur," said Harry, "I was not ignorant of
+what you have told me.  And indeed I want to ask your
+help in a matter not unconnected with it.  Two messengers
+from my lord Marlborough's army have disappeared somewhere
+in these parts; I think I have a clue to their fate, and
+wish to follow it up.  Can you procure me the services of
+a stout, sensible fellow to ride with me?—a man thoroughly
+to be depended on, and one who will face danger if need be."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I know the very man," said the officer instantly; "one
+Max Berens, who was servant to a French officer until the
+beginning of the war, but, refusing to fight against his own
+people, is now out of employment.  He is a young fellow,
+strong, honest, intelligent; I know him well.  I will send
+for him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry liked the look of Max Berens when he appeared.
+He reminded him not a little of Sherebiah, of whom he
+might have been a younger and a slighter copy.  Max
+readily accepted Harry's offer of a week's service, and
+promised to be ready with horses at seven o'clock that
+same evening.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At that hour the two rode north towards the wayside inn.
+On the way Harry asked Max if he knew anything of the
+landlord.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Little enough, Monsieur.  He's a sly fellow, and
+demands high prices; but there, the same could be said
+of any innkeeper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As they drew near the inn they made a detour, and,
+entering the copse from the farther side, tied up their
+horses and came through the trees.  Dusk had already
+fallen, and as the sky was overcast the evening was
+blacker than is usual at the time of year.  The inn was
+in darkness except for a light in the kitchen.  Followed
+by Max, Harry emerged from the copse, crossed the road,
+and rapped smartly on the closed door.  It was opened
+almost immediately by the landlord himself, who, seeing
+two men on foot, and not recognizing Harry in the
+darkness, said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in, gentlemen.  What are your commands?  I
+will bring a light in a moment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Returning with a candle, he now saw who the first of
+his visitors was, and looked very uncomfortable.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have very little in the house, Excellency——" he
+began deprecatingly.  Harry cut him short.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray don't be distressed.  I left hurriedly—you
+remember me, landlord?—and we have a little reckoning to
+make together.  It need not take long.—Max, stand at
+the door, and see that our good host and I are not
+disturbed.—Now, landlord, we will have a little talk."  The
+kitchen door was open and the room empty.  "This will
+do quite well; I repeat, we shall not remain long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked relieved, Harry thought; but he said
+nothing, merely brushing a chair for his visitor.  Harry
+sat down, removed his hat, and leant back, stretching his
+legs for comfort after his ride.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, landlord, I left your house somewhat hurriedly, I
+fear, and at an unseemly hour."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man shot a quick glance at him; but, having now
+had time to collect his wits, assumed an air of friendly
+concern, and began to speak with great volubility.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The noble Herr had indeed a miraculous escape.  Your
+excellency will remember—I told you of the marauders.
+They are dangerous knaves; they stick at nothing; only
+the other day they sacked and burnt a farmhouse in the
+hills, and killed all the inmates—man, wife, three children,
+and a dozen servants.  Glad indeed was I to find that your
+excellency had eluded them.  They must have spied upon
+your coming; yes, dangerous villains, I say.  We should
+have had troops to protect us, but his highness Prince
+Louis—whom God defend!—cannot spare a man, it is
+said, so hard is he pressed by the French; and we poor
+Swabians are at the mercy of these robbers, the offscourings
+of all the armies.  Ah, your excellency, these are bad
+times for us poor folk, bad times indeed; not that it
+becomes me to complain when our noble rulers think it
+necessary to make war; but it is the poor who suffer.  It is we
+who are taxed to keep the soldiers afoot; the bread is
+taken out of our children's mouths; we are murdered and
+robbed, our houses are plundered and burned——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Except in your case, mein Wirth," said Harry, interrupting
+the man's hurried, nervous, inconsequent speech.
+"You seem very comfortable here; I see no signs of
+plunder or burning."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, your excellency, they—they—they were disturbed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Disturbed!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I say disturbed?  I meant alarmed—alarmed,
+mein Herr.  Your excellency's escape—for which Heaven
+be thanked!—caused them to hurry off;—yes, to hurry off,
+for, of course, they feared the guard from Urach; that is
+how it was: your excellency understands?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly.  And which way did they go?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way, your excellency?"  The man's tone was
+expressive of the greatest surprise: he was gaining
+confidence.  "How should I know?  They galloped away;
+that was all I knew——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  And where did they get the horses?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The horses! the horses!  Ah yes! the horses."  Mine
+host was now floundering desperately.  "Why, of course,
+they caught the horses and then galloped away—you
+understand?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellently.  And my horse—you have that in your
+stable still?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your horse!  Yes, of course; it must be there; I will
+go and saddle it myself for your excellency."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so fast.  There is no hurry, my friend.  They
+caught the horses and galloped away.  And where are
+they now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What strange questions, Excellency!  Where are they
+now?  How should I know!  It is announced they went
+away towards Ulm: one can never tell with such wretches:
+they are here to-day and gone to-morrow.  To look for
+them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a pity, landlord; I fear you must make up your
+mind for a long search."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A search!  I, Excellency?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you.  And we will, if you please, start at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry said this in the same quiet matter-of-fact tone in
+which he might have said, "I will have breakfast at
+eight".  The landlord looked dumbfounded, his head
+hanging forward, his eyes fixed in a wild stare upon the face
+of the visitor.  Harry sat up in his chair and spoke very
+slowly and distinctly, leaving time for the words to sink in.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come, landlord, either to find our midnight
+disturbers, or to deliver you in their stead to the
+magistrates of Urach.  Which it is to be depends entirely on
+you.  No; it is useless to protest"—the man was rubbing
+his hands nervously together, and stammering an
+expostulation—"I have the strongest proof that you were
+associated with the villains in the trap set for me three nights
+ago.  You can make your choice between returning with
+me to Urach, where there is plenty of rope and a serviceable
+gallows-frame in the market square; and yielding me
+sincere and instant help in the little enquiry I am about to
+make.  I do not wish to hurry you: you shall have a few
+minutes to think it over.  Bring me a cup of wine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man moved to the cupboard as in a dream.  Harry
+took the cup he offered, and as he sipped it, watched the
+landlord return the bottle mechanically to its place on the
+shelf, take up a plate and put it down again, cut half
+through a loaf of bread and leave the knife in it, flick
+imaginary crumbs from the clear table.  He looked like
+a rat in a trap.  He glanced at the window, then at the
+door, and appeared for a moment to measure his chances
+in a struggle.  But Harry's air of confident self-possession,
+and the knowledge that a sturdy henchman held the door
+within a few feet of him, daunted any impulse to active
+resistance.  At length, drawing a napkin nervously through
+his fingers, and trying to assume an air of dignified
+forbearance, he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am in your excellency's hands.  I protest; but since
+you doubt me, I am willing to accompany your excellency
+to Urach, and prove my innocence to the magistrates.  I
+am well known in Urach, and permit me to say, I shall
+require good compensation when you are forced to admit
+your mistake."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your expectation shall not be disappointed," said
+Harry quietly.  "We will, then, start at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But it will be near midnight when we arrive, your
+excellency being on foot——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have my horse in your stable, I thought?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was mistaken,—a moment's forgetfulness, mein
+Herr.  The horse—the other day—I mean——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand.  Nevertheless, we will start at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Excellency, nothing can be done until the morning.
+If you will wait——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"For another visit from your friends? no."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not my friends, Excellency.  I am an honest man.
+But as you will.  I will awaken the ostler and leave him
+in charge of the inn."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He made quickly towards the door, but Harry, who had
+seen through all his attempts to gain time and make an
+opportunity to get away, interposed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ring your bell there: that will waken him.  But you
+will not leave him in charge of the house: he will come
+with us, and your servant also.  The inn shall be shut up,
+and I doubt not your good fortune in escaping the
+attentions of the marauders will still hold.  I will give you
+five minutes to get ready."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, seeing that his last hope of communicating
+with his friends was gone, recognized that the
+game was up.  His assurance collapsed; he became
+merely sullen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it that your excellency wishes me to do?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As I said: first to choose between complying with my
+demands and facing a public trial for treason at Urach."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What are your excellency's demands?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"First make your choice."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your excellency will guarantee my safety if I comply?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot answer for that; but I will do what I can."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man's face gave signs of a final mental struggle;
+then he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do as your excellency wishes."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A wise choice: it gives you a chance of saving your
+neck; there is none at all the other way.  A few questions
+first.  How many travellers—let us say officers of the
+English army—have you trapped as you tried to trap me?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man hesitated.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick!" cried Harry, "no paltering now.  You know
+the alternative."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"One, your excellency," was the reluctant, sullen
+admission.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what became of the other?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He was waylaid on the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The first, or the second?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The second."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And the officer captured here—what was he like?
+Was he tall or short?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He was tall, Excellency, with fair hair and blue eyes.
+He was always whistling."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"These officers—where were they taken to?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To the hills."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In what direction?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Towards Geislingen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are they now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man dropped his eyes and fidgeted.  He had been
+growing restive under this examination; his tone had
+become more and more sullen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't know, Excellency," he stammered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, refresh your memory.  Remember—they have
+to be found; I must have an answer, and an exact
+description of the spot: out with it!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord could hardly have looked more uncomfortable
+if a thumb-screw had been applied.  For a few
+moments he strove with himself; then muttered:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know: the castle of Rauhstein—when I last
+heard."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And when was that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yesterday."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The castle will not have moved, eh?  Where is it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten miles away."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who owns it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody: it is a ruin.  The land belongs to the Graf
+von Rauhstein."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is not so much a ruin that it cannot shelter your
+friends.  How many do they number?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Two hundred or more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What are they?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All kinds: soldiers, outlaws—French, Bavarian, Swabian."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And who commands them?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A Bavarian captain: by his speech, a foreigner born."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is enough, I think.  We will prepare to start."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To start, Excellency!  Whither?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"For the castle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But—but, Excellency," stammered the man, "you do
+not mean it?  You would not venture there, you and I and
+two men?  You—we—they would murder us all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We must risk that.  As for you, your risk will be
+equally great, or greater, if you stay here: if the two
+officers are not safe in Urach by to-morrow night, a detachment
+will be sent to arrest you.  You understand?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord was chapfallen and pallid with mingled
+fears.  On the one hand, the vengeance of the associates
+he had been constrained to betray; on the other, the
+retribution of the burghers of Urach.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Excellency," he said falteringly, "I have given
+you information.  You have promised to guarantee my
+safety——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No," interrupted Harry; "I said I would do what
+I could."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust to you, Excellency: you will have mercy upon
+a poor man; in these days it is hard to live; I did not
+mean any harm to the officers; I insisted their persons
+should not be injured: I was under compulsion, fearing——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough!" said Harry, to whom the man's cringing
+and whining were more distasteful than his former
+attitude.  "Give my man the key of your stable: he will
+saddle your horse.  We shall not need to awaken your
+servant, after all.  You will lead the way to the castle.
+And one word before we start: try to mislead us or play
+us false, and you will be immediately shot.  I give you
+my word for that.  Now, put on your hat."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-castle-of-rauhstein"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Castle of Rauhstein</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">The Hidden Way—In the Fosse—Below the Dungeons—Out of
+the Depths—A Sleeping Castle—The Stairway in the
+Keep—Counting the Chickens—The Battlements—A
+Breakneck Descent—A Friendly Shower—A Narrow
+Margin—Eugene Laughs—A Bold Stroke—Eugene's
+Double—"Our Good Prince Eugene"—Mein Wirth as
+Postilion—An Empty Pistol</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>It was about nine o'clock, and a dark night, when Harry
+with his two companions set off on horseback towards
+the castle of Rauhstein.  When Harry mentioned their
+destination to Max, the man said that he had known the
+district from boyhood, and was well acquainted with the
+castle and its precincts, so that it was unnecessary to take
+the landlord as guide.  But the latter could not be left
+to himself except under lock and key, and Harry decided
+that it would be at once safer and more convenient to have
+him with them.  Max led the way along a horse-track
+that zigzagged over the limestone hills, Harry followed
+with the landlord, their horses being securely linked
+together.  Harry had unbuttoned his holsters, displaying
+two pistols; the sight of them, he felt, would keep the
+landlord on his good behaviour.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The track was tortuous, skirting rugged spurs of rock,
+crossing narrow ravines, and here and there a mountain
+brook, passing through black clumps of beech forest that
+dotted the slope.  The riders were surrounded by a vast
+silence, broken only by the cries of night birds and the
+croak of frogs in the pools.  The horses' shoes clicked on
+the hard ground; it would clearly not be safe to approach
+too close to the castle on horseback, and as they rode
+Harry quietly asked the landlord how the ruin was
+situated, and whether there was any cover within a secure
+distance.  He learnt that the castle was built against the
+hill-side, so that it was inaccessible from the rear; it was
+almost wholly in ruins, but the keep and one or two
+adjacent parts had been recently made habitable by the
+marauders.  There was a fosse, now dry; the drawbridge
+had disappeared, and was replaced by a rough bridge of
+planks.  The landlord knew of no entrance but this; it
+was guarded day and night, but no watch was kept on
+any other part of the building.  There were no trees in
+the immediate neighbourhood of the castle, but about half
+a mile before it was reached an extensive plantation of
+beech covered a valley to the right of the track, and in
+this the horses could be left.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was past eleven before the three riders reached the
+beech plantation.  There alighting, they tied their horses
+to trees well within the clump, and proceeded on foot.  It
+occurred to Harry that if the animals chanced to whinny
+they might be heard by any member of the garrison who
+happened to be without the walls; but Max told him that
+the two tracks leading to the castle from the Urach
+highroad were both a considerable distance to right and left
+of the hill path by which they had come, so that there was
+little fear of such an untoward accident.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They climbed up the path in silence, the darkness being
+so deep that they could not distinguish the outline of
+anything more than a few yards away.  It was therefore
+almost unawares that Max himself, for all his knowledge
+of the country, came upon the main road into which the
+track ran, about a quarter of a mile from the castle.
+Here he stopped.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur," he said, "I heard what the landlord said
+to you.  It is all true; but though he speaks only of the
+entrance by the plank bridge, I know, and he may know
+too, of another—one that I discovered by chance,
+rambling here with some comrades many years ago.  It is a
+small broken doorway opening from the fosse, much
+overgrown with bush and trees, and indeed so well hidden
+that I almost doubt whether I could find it after this
+long time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Max, you must try.  I don't want you to go
+into the castle yourself: I suppose you have not seen it
+since the marauders have sheltered there?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must go myself.  The fosse is dry, you say?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we can all three go down into it, and the landlord
+and I will remain hidden while you search for the
+secret entrance.  Whither does it lead?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To a tunnel that rises gradually up the hill, and enters
+the castle near the dungeons below the keep."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead on, then.  We will go to the left, and walk
+warily to escape the ears of the sentry at the gate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes they came to the edge of the fosse.
+They clambered carefully down, assisting their steps by
+the young trees which thickly covered the steep side.
+When they reached the bottom, Max went forward by
+himself to explore.  His movements caused a rustle, but
+being followed by the scurrying of rabbits disturbed in the
+brake, such slight customary noises were not likely to
+alarm the sentry, even if he should near them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had his hand on the landlord's wrist as they
+waited minute after minute.  Max was gone a long time.
+All was silent now save for the murmurs of birds and the
+chirping of insects.  At length, after what seemed to
+Harry's impatience hours of delay, the man groped his
+way back, and whispered:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have found it, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is well.  Now lead us to it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will not take me into the castle, Excellency?"
+murmured the landlord in affright.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear.  Be silent."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The three went into the tangled mass of tree and shrub,
+and Max had no difficulty now in taking a pretty direct
+path to the opening of the tunnel.  When the bushes were
+pulled aside, they revealed to the touch—for to see was
+impossible—an arch of crumbling brickwork not more
+than five feet high.  Evidently a man could not walk
+upright through the tunnel.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever get into the castle this way?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur, but it was fifteen years ago."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"So that the tunnel may be blocked now?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Or it may be the haunt of wild beasts?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing wilder than rabbits, I should think."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it is not too pleasant a task to crawl through
+there in the dark, but it must be done.  Now, Max, you
+will return to the place where we left our horses; the
+landlord will go with you.  Here is one of my pistols; you
+know what to do with it if need be.  Wait for me there:
+if I do not come to you within say a couple of hours, ride
+to Urach, and tell the lieutenant of the guard what has
+happened."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Max hesitated.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, Monsieur," he said.  "Why should you
+run into the jaws of danger?  They are desperate men,
+these brigands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Max! but it is my task.  Do my bidding,
+my good fellow; I have counted the cost."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He waited until the two men had crept away; then,
+crushing the feeling of eeriness that affected him in
+spite of himself, he bent his head and went forward into
+the tunnel.  There was at once a scurry of animals past
+his legs; he felt the furry coats and tails of rabbits brush
+his hands; but he went slowly forward, touching the wall
+at his right to guide himself, and wondering how long the
+tunnel was, and whether there was enough air to carry
+him through to the end.  The atmosphere was stuffy, with
+mingled smells so nauseating that Harry quickened his
+pace, eager to escape into purer air again.  He had not
+thought to count his steps when he first entered the
+tunnel, but began to do so after taking about a dozen.
+At the fortieth of his counting the wall to his right came
+to an end.  He stopped, and, raising his hand above his
+head, found that it was not obstructed by the roof: he
+had evidently come to the end of the passage.  He stood
+upright and listened; he could hear nothing.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Extending his arms, he found that he was in a narrow
+passage.  Max had said that the tunnel led below the
+keep: there must, then, be a staircase somewhere.  Harry
+went cautiously forward, stopping at every few steps to
+listen, and placing his feet with great care to avoid coming
+unawares upon some obstacle.  At length his foot touched
+what felt like a stone step in front of him; another
+moment, and he was sure he had come to the expected
+staircase.  It was pitch dark; he mounted carefully, and found
+that the stairs wound round and round.  He had just
+counted fifteen steps, when his head came into violent
+contact with something above.  The blow brought tears
+to his eyes, and he rubbed his head vigorously, as he had
+been wont to do after a knock in his childish days.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Feeling with his hands, he discovered that the staircase
+was roofed over with stone.  It appeared to be a slab let
+down into sockets; yet no, on the left side there was a
+space of about a finger-width between the stone and the
+wall, on the right there was no such space.  He paused;
+the stone was so broad that to lift it was clearly
+impossible; it had never been intended to be moved from below.
+He bent his head, hitched his left shoulder, and shoved
+hard against the stone.  It did not yield by the smallest
+interval.  For a moment he was puzzled.  Then a possible
+explanation of the space between the stone and the wall
+at the left occurred to him.  Perhaps the stone moved on
+a pivot?  He went to the other side and set his right
+shoulder to it.  At first he felt no yielding; but exerting
+all his strength he shoved again, the stone slowly gave,
+and with continued pressure moved over until it came
+to a vertical position, leaving space enough for his body
+to pass through.  He ascended, keeping his hand on the
+stone to prevent it from falling back noisily into its place,
+clambered on to the floor above, let the stone carefully
+down, and stood up to collect himself before proceeding
+farther.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now that he had come thus far, he felt a chill shrinking
+from what lay before him.  He was alone in a strange
+place, within a few feet of desperate and unscrupulous
+ruffians, who would kill him with no more compunction
+than they would spit a hare.  The unknown peril might
+well give the bravest pause.  But a thought of his duty
+stilled his tremors.  He had a duty of service to
+Marlborough, and a duty of friendship to Fanshawe;
+remembering them, he steeled his soul.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>If his hazardous visit was to prove of any service he
+must discover the nature and position of the defences.
+He knew little about the construction of castles, but Max
+had said that the entrance led to the keep, which was the
+only part of the ruin still habitable.  The inmates must
+therefore be somewhere near him, and it behoved him to
+move warily.  He was apparently in a stone-flagged
+passage.  He took off his boots and slung them round his
+neck; then went forward a few steps, and came upon
+another passage at right angles, the farther end being
+faintly lit as from a distance.  Stealing down this, he saw
+on his right hand the arched entrance to what was clearly
+the great hall of the keep, a long bare chamber illuminated
+by two or three smoky candles.  Along the walls lay a
+number of men, sleeping on mattresses, cloaks, bundles
+of straw.  At the farther end was a large table, at which
+two men were seated, bending forward with heads on their
+crossed arms, as though dozing.  The table was covered
+with pots and tankards and metal plates.  Taking this in
+at one swift glance, Harry turned to see what lay in the
+other direction.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few feet from him was the bottom of another winding
+stair, which, he conjectured, led to the top of the keep.
+In the wall to his right there was a narrow opening giving
+on the courtyard, where he heard the movements of many
+horses.  He was wondering whether, finding the doorway
+into the courtyard, he might venture to steal across it and
+explore the other side, when he heard voices from the hall
+behind him.  Quick as thought he slipped back into the
+dark passage he had first entered, and waited there with
+beating heart.  Peeping round the corner, he saw two
+men—doubtless the two who had been bending over the table—pass
+as if towards the staircase.  He heard their spurred
+boots ringing on the stones, and knew by the sounds that
+they were ascending the stairs, to relieve guard, he guessed,
+at the top of the keep.  There was evidently nothing to be
+discovered by remaining where he was; if he followed the
+men he might find a means of exploring the upper part of
+the fortress.  He ran lightly along the passage, and began
+the ascent of the winding stair, finding himself soon in
+total darkness.  But after about a dozen steps the
+staircase began to be faintly illuminated from above.  Harry
+paused for a moment to listen.  He heard nothing but
+the footsteps of the men who had preceded him, and was
+just going on when, through a loophole in the wall to his
+right, he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs and the shout
+of a man.  He held his breath and stood still.  The horse
+had evidently just come over the bridge and through the
+archway into the courtyard.  There were now sounds of
+many voices below; the hoof-beats suddenly ceased, and
+shortly afterwards Harry heard hurried footsteps on the
+stone passage he had lately left, and voices growing in
+volume and echoing in the circular space of the winding
+stair.  Several men were ascending.  If he remained where
+he was he must inevitably be detected; his only course
+was to continue his ascent.  But he had not taken three
+steps before he heard footsteps above him; the sentry who
+had been relieved was coming down.  His heart was in
+his mouth.  But the men below were the nearer; there
+was just a chance that if he went higher he might come
+upon some temporary hiding-place, and in his stocking
+feet he made no sound that would betray him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Up then he went; the light was becoming stronger;
+and a turn of the staircase brought him opposite the
+doorway through which it shone.  The door was gone.  He
+hesitated but for a moment; below and above him the
+footsteps were perilously near; on the wall of the room
+he saw two long military cloaks hanging to the floor;
+they would conceal him.  Peeping into the room, he
+noted with one rapid glance a smoky guttering candle
+and a figure recumbent on a mattress.  He went in on
+tiptoe, and slipped behind the cloaks.  The slight rustle
+he made disturbed the slumbering man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui va la?" came the sleepy question.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood still as a stone, and felt his heart thumping
+against his ribs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Qui va la?" repeated the voice in a louder tone, and
+by the increased light in the narrow crack between the
+cloak and the wall Harry guessed that the man had risen
+on his elbow and snuffed the candle.  An answering voice
+came from the doorway.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sebald Schummel, mon capitaine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Bien!  Donnez-moi de vos nouvelles."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a cold shiver down his back, and an impulse
+to pull aside the cloak and confirm by sight the evidence
+of his hearing.  The voice was the voice of Captain
+Aglionby.  Here was a discovery indeed.  But he had
+scarcely time even to be surprised, for he was listening
+intently to a conversation that absorbed all his thought.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The prince has arrived in Urach," said the new-comer.
+"He leaves at five in the morning on his way to
+Stuttgart.  He travels by coach."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! what is his escort?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Two aides-de-camp and thirty dragoons, mon capitaine."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A bagatelle!  The game is ours!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mon capitaine," said another voice; "he will not
+easily escape us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu!  He shall not.  You are sure of the hour, Sebald?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur; and I have left a trusty man to send
+us word if it is altered."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not likely to change his route?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no reason for it, mon capitaine, and our men
+are watching every road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!  Your news is welcome, Sebald.  Go and eat;
+I will consult with Monsieur le Lieutenant here; you shall
+have your orders by and by."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Two or three men left the room, and the captain was
+alone with his lieutenant and Harry.  The latter had
+already heard enough to set all his wits on the alert.
+The conversation that ensued, though carried on by both
+the speakers in continuance of a former discussion, gave
+Harry little trouble to understand.  It was evident that
+the marauders under Captain Aglionby's lead were
+planning to intercept Prince Eugene on his way to meet
+Marlborough, and Harry listened with a flutter at the heart as
+all the details were arranged.  The ambuscaders, divided
+into three bands, were to station themselves at a point
+about two miles north of the wayside inn, where the road
+narrowed.  Two of the bands were to conceal themselves
+in the woods on either side of the road, the third some
+distance behind them, towards the inn, to cut off any
+escape rearwards.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur le Prince will sleep hard to-morrow," said
+Aglionby with a chuckle, when he had arranged the
+composition of the bands.  "Now, as we must start in an
+hour or two, do you go down and rouse the men; I will
+follow in a minute and give them their orders.  What sort
+of night is it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dull, with a threat of rain."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! we shall want our cloaks.  Well, rouse the men;
+our bird will have his feathers clipped long ere this
+to-morrow."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had gone cold at the mention of the cloaks, and
+gripped his pistol.  But the lieutenant went from the room
+without disturbing him, and Aglionby shortly afterwards
+followed.  Harry heaved a silent sigh of relief, waited
+until the sound of his footsteps had quite died away, then
+left his hiding-place and hastened to the staircase.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was in no doubt what to do.  To descend, now that
+the garrison was awakened, would be to court instant
+detection.  The alternative was to go higher up the keep,
+and endeavour to find some way of escape over the ruined
+battlements.  He mounted a few steps; the moon had
+risen, and her light, fitfully shining between masses of
+flying scud in the sky, lit up the staircase through the
+narrow openings at intervals in the wall.  A few steps
+more, and on his right Harry saw a low doorway, this also
+without a door, leading directly on to the battlements.
+He peered up the outer wall of the keep, and saw that
+a sentinel at the top must almost certainly descry a figure
+moving along below.  But escape he must; Prince Eugene
+must be warned in time, and Urach was several miles
+away.  He longed for a friendly cloud to obscure the
+moon while he made a dash; and, pat to his wish, a dark
+mass of thunderous density cut off every gleam.  Without
+another moment's delay Harry sprang on to the broken
+masonry, and, taking sure foothold in his stocking feet, ran
+towards a tower at the left-hand corner of the enceinte,
+hoping there to find an exit.  The upper part of the tower
+was almost wholly in ruins, but the lower part was in
+good preservation, and to his disappointment Harry found
+that the only doorway led into the courtyard, in which he
+already heard the bustle of preparation.  There was nothing
+for it but to pursue his way along the battlements to the
+tower at the right-hand rear corner.  Entering this, he
+discovered a postern on the outer wall.  It was twenty
+feet above the summit of a steep slope leading to the level
+ground a hundred yards away.  Harry looked out, and
+saw that below the postern the masonry had crumbled and
+fallen, and was now covered with undergrowth and ivy
+clinging to the tower wall.  To make his descent here he
+would have to risk a broken limb, perhaps a broken neck,
+but there was no other means of exit that he could
+discover, and it was necessary that he should get quickly
+away with Max and the landlord before the marauding
+band rode out.  Clinging to a strong tendril of ivy, he
+leapt on to a precarious corner of broken brickwork, lost
+his footing, checked his fall by clutching at a shrub, found
+a firmer foothold a little below, and so made the complete
+descent to the edge of the slope, where he stayed his
+progress by again grasping the ivy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The air was warm and close, foreboding thunder, and
+by this time Harry was bathed in sweat.  He rested for
+a few moments at the foot of the wall.  The jagged
+masonry had cut holes in his stockings and made his feet
+bleed.  Between him and level ground was a steep
+declivity of almost bare rock, so precipitous that to walk
+down it was impossible, to run dangerous.  He pulled on
+his boots, lay on his back, and slid down feet foremost,
+with some bumps and bruises, but with more serious
+injury to his apparel.  As he reached the level a loud
+rumble of thunder broke above him, and he felt the first
+large spots of a shower.  He was far from the place
+where he had left his companions, and to reach it he
+would have to cross the direct road to the castle gate.
+To avoid discovery it seemed best to creep down into the
+dry overgrown fosse, and steal his way along until he
+gained the spot on the other side of the plank bridge
+where he had descended to find the tunnel.  Even under
+the bridge the vegetation was rank and thick enough to
+conceal him, and he had no fear of his movements being
+heard, for the rain was now pattering fast.  This, then,
+he did; in a few minutes he came to the place where he
+had parted with Max, and, scrambling up the side of the
+fosse, struck into the road and hastened towards the trees.
+He wandered for some time among them without finding
+the men of whom he was in search, and at length risked
+a low call.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that you, Monsieur?" came the reply in Max's
+voice from near at hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  I was afraid I had lost you.  Have you the
+landlord safe?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Monsieur.  I had almost given you up."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead out the horses.  We must get to Urach as
+quickly as possible.  And not by the road: do you know
+a way across the hills?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but it will be difficult to find in the dark, and
+hark to the rain!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is raining hard, but you must try to find the
+way; I dare not risk the road.  Lead on, Max; I will
+follow you with the landlord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Max led his horse through the wood, the others close
+behind him.  Crossing the road, he entered a narrow
+ravine, left this at a cleft on the right, and taking a
+tortuous course, rising continually, he came after some
+twenty minutes to the crest of a rocky hill.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all right, Monsieur," he said.  "The way is
+easier now and we can mount.  The rain is over, too."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well for us!  Now, Max, at your best pace, provided
+it is not neck-breaking."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The three set off, the landlord uttering many groans
+and lamentations as he jolted in his saddle.  Harry did
+not address him; he had too much to think of.  If, as
+Aglionby's messenger had said, there were spies in Urach
+and around, it was likely that the entrance of three riders
+into the town at so late an hour would be noticed, and
+might awaken suspicion.  Harry's wish was not merely to
+foil the ambuscade, but to turn the tables on the
+ambuscaders.  As he rode he decided what to do.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Max," he said, riding alongside of the man where a
+difficult part of the track caused a slackening of the pace;
+"Max, tell me when we come within about half a mile
+of the town; we will halt there."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We leave the hills and strike the road at that distance,
+Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well; we will stop before we reach the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was two o'clock in the morning when the three riders
+came to a halt within a little dell concealed from the road
+by an intervening hillock.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Remain here with the landlord and my horse, Max,"
+said Harry.  "I am going on foot to the town."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the gate-house he gave the password and was at
+once admitted.  He went to the lodging of the lieutenant
+of the guard, woke him, and told him in a few words
+what he had discovered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mon Dieu!" cried the lieutenant, "you are just in time.
+The prince decided last night to hasten his going; he sets
+off at four.  He will have to remain here, or go back, for
+his escort are no match for these brigands, even with our
+burgher guard, who in any case are not permitted to leave
+the town.  The prince must either wait here until he can get
+a force from Prince Louis of Baden, or try another road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The roads are watched.  But I think the prince had
+better carry out his original intention and leave here at
+five."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But he will certainly be captured."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not certainly.  I should like to see him.  I left Max
+and that rascal of a landlord half a mile out.  The town is
+quiet; do you think it will be safe to send for them?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes!  I will do that.  You will find the prince at
+the Rathhaus."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you lend me a change of things while mine are drying?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course!  The sleeves of my coat will be short for
+you, I fear, but you will not need it long."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>To change was but the work of a few minutes; then
+Harry hastened to the Rathhaus.  The guard made some
+demur to admitting him at such an hour, but yielded when
+he assured them that his message was urgent, and he was
+conducted to an aide-de-camp, who on hearing his story in
+outline did not scruple to awaken the prince.  Harry was
+not prepared for the reception his news met with.  The
+prince broke into a roar of laughter.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A right tit-for-tat for the Duke de Vendôme," he said.
+"Two can play at coney-catching!  You are surprised at
+my levity, young sir; but the truth is, I tried to play the
+same game on the duke two years ago: attempted to seize
+him in his house at Rivalto on the banks of the Lake of
+Mantua.  I sent fifty men in boats to capture him; but
+they killed the sentinel instead of carrying him off, as I
+intended; the noise drew the guard to the spot, and my
+men had to re-embark to save their skins.  Well, in war
+let him trick the other who can: I am obliged to you for
+your warning.  Un homme averti en vaut deux: we'll be
+even with the tricksters.  What shall we do, lieutenant?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It would seem that we must take another road,
+Monsieur le Prince," said the aide-de-camp.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma foi, non; we'll cut our way through them.  I
+never turned back on my enemy yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are too many, your highness.  Your thirty men
+could not cut their way through two hundred."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we must go another way."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They have spies on the roads, Monsieur," said Harry.
+"Your highness would have to make a wide detour, and
+that would give the brigands plenty of time to sweep
+round and intercept you.  If I might suggest a plan that
+occurred to me——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It is that your highness's coach should set off at the
+time arranged, attended by a portion of your escort——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Empty?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so, Monsieur.  A man might take your highness's
+place.  The brigands would imagine their scheme was
+prospering; the scouts would be drawn off; and after an
+interval your highness with the remainder of the escort
+could safely take the western road and be well on the way
+to Stuttgart before the trick was discovered."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha!  And who is to personate me?  Not yourself?
+You have too great an advantage of me in inches."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My ambition is less, your highness.  I have a man
+of about your height; if you would deign to let him wear
+your wig, hat, and cloak for a few hours, I think he would
+make a personable copy of your highness."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The prince laughed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you have a ready wit, my lad.  But it would be
+running into the jaws of the wolves; I should lose half my
+escort and my coach, and you and your man your lives.
+They would not spare you when they learnt how you had
+tricked them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be a cheap purchase of your highness's
+safety.  Besides, I think we might manage to escape the
+wolves, as your highness is pleased to call them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!  Come, you are a young strategist; what
+have you in your mind?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To get into the castle, Monsieur le Prince, while the
+greater part of the brigands are absent, and to hold it
+until a force can be sent from Stuttgart to our assistance."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A bold scheme, by my faith!  What reason have you
+to suppose you could surprise the castle?  It will not be
+left unguarded."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then Harry gave a rapid narrative of what had
+happened since his adventure at the inn.  Prince Eugene
+listened with close attention, his eyes lighting up with
+excitement and pleasure as he heard the details of the
+plan Harry had thought out as he rode from the castle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu!" he exclaimed at the end, "a bold scheme
+indeed, one after my own heart; I should like of all things
+to be with you in it.  And you think my cousin
+Marlborough's two messengers are now in the castle?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt of it, your highness; and as one of
+them is an old friend of my own, I have a strong personal
+reason for making the attempt."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will not stay you.  Rather I will say, Good
+luck to you!  You deserve to succeed.  I make no doubt
+that I shall be able to send you from Stuttgart a squadron
+or two of Prince Louis of Baden's horse, and if you and
+they can annihilate this pestilent band of outlaws you will
+do a service to the Emperor—a service that I shall take
+care is not forgotten.  Time is pressing; my valet shall
+give you the suit I wore yesterday; I shall not need to
+trouble your man to lend me his in exchange, as I have
+another with me—a plain costume that will tell no tales.
+Ma foi!  I could wish that for the next twelve hours he
+were Eugene of Savoy and I—what is his name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Max Berens, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Write his name, Lieutenant; if he were a courtier he
+would doubtless be content with the bare honour of filling
+my clothes for the nonce, but being a sensible man he
+will prefer a more tangible recompense.  I shall see to it.
+Well, you have woke me from sleep, Monsieur; now I will
+ask you to leave me while I dress.  And as we must be
+secret about this disguise, lest there be spies in the town,
+I shall not see you again until I meet you, as I hope to
+do, in my lord Marlborough's camp.  Send your man here;
+I will take care that he is treated with the deference
+becoming his rank.  Ha! ha! it is an excellent joke."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry went away delighted with the readiness with
+which the prince had entered into the spirit of his scheme.
+It was full of danger; he was under no illusion as to that;
+but this lent an additional zest to the adventure; he had
+thought out his plan carefully, and reckoned on finding an
+invaluable coadjutor in the landlord.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At five o'clock, in the cool of a fine morning, the prince's
+gilded coach drew up at the door of the Rathhaus, with
+fifteen dragoons in full riding trim.  A carpet was spread
+from the entrance across the path to the coach, and one of
+the town officials stood in waiting to show the great man
+to his seat.  By and by a figure in cocked hat, full wig,
+laced coat, and corslet came out with a fair counterfeit of
+Eugene's active gait; he gave a somewhat stiff acknowledgment
+of the salutes of the soldiers and the respectful
+obeisance of the local magnates and the crowd of
+interested townspeople, and stepped quickly into the coach.
+Harry followed him.  The door was shut, the word given
+to the two postilions, and amid the cheers of all Urach
+the vehicle rattled over the stones, out at the gate, into
+the open highway.  No one but the principals in the little
+drama, and the fifteen picked men of the escort, knew that
+the man to whom they had just shown such deference was
+not Eugene of Savoy, a prince of a sovereign house, but
+Max Berens, the simple son of a shoemaker.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had been at the pains to drill his companions
+in the part they were to play.  He had learnt from Max
+that there were two roads leading from the main highway
+to the castle.  Of these the one nearest to Urach was
+the better; it branched off about a mile on the town side
+of the inn.  The other was a more circuitous and difficult
+track across the hills, leaving the highroad at a point
+rather more distant from the inn on the farther side, and
+only a few yards from the spot chosen for the ambuscade.
+Between the two cross-roads the highway took a somewhat
+irregular course, and while it was visible from point
+to point, only a few yards of the intervening portion could
+be seen from either of the by-roads, owing to its windings
+and the undulations of the ground.  When the coach,
+therefore, should arrive at the first road it would be
+descried by the ambuscaders, but would then disappear
+from their view, not becoming visible again until a short
+distance before it reached them.  On this fact Harry
+reckoned for the successful accomplishment of the first
+part of his scheme.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A mile out of Urach, Harry found the landlord awaiting
+him in charge of one of the town guard.  He was taken
+into the coach, which then drove rapidly on.  On arriving
+at the cross-road, instead of going straight forward towards
+the inn and the ambush, it swung round to the right, and
+at Harry's orders the postilions whipped up the horses and
+drove at a headlong pace towards the castle.  The actual
+turning could not be seen from the place of the ambuscade,
+and Harry confidently expected that the brigands, having
+caught sight of the coach the moment before it left the
+road, would await its coming without suspicion.  Its
+non-appearance after a time would surprise them; they might
+suppose it had stopped at the inn to bait the horses; they
+would allow for this, and a considerable time would elapse
+before they discovered the truth.  This interval would, he
+hoped, give him so long a start that he would have ample
+time to play his trick upon the garrison.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>About half a mile from the castle, Harry ordered the
+postilions and escort to halt at a spot where they were
+hidden from the garrison by a stretch of rising ground.
+He then dismounted four of the dragoons, bade them get
+into the coach, and made the landlord change places with
+the postilion on one of the sear horses.  In his hand he
+placed an empty pistol.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"When we drive on," he said, "you will point that
+at the back of the postilion in front of you, and look as
+grim as you please.  When we come within earshot of
+the sentry at the bridge—I will give the word—you will
+shout to him to let us through quickly: 'Here we are!'
+you will cry.  I have let down the window, you observe;
+Berens will be a few feet behind you with a loaded pistol:
+you understand?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then turning to the eleven dragoons who were still on
+horseback, he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, men, you know your part.  Wait till we are
+over the bridge, then gallop up at full speed with sabres
+drawn and pistols cocked, ready for anything."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the four horses, Herr Capitan?" asked
+one of the troopers.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We must leave them.  Tie their heads together
+and string them to that tree yonder: we may get them
+by and by; if not, the coach horses will serve.  Now;
+all ready!  Drive on, landlord."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two postilions—the foremost a stalwart dragoon—whipped
+up the horses, which dashed forward at a furious
+gallop towards the castle.  It was a tight squeeze in the
+coach—Harry, Max, and the four big troopers jammed
+together in a narrow space.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Level your pistol, landlord!" cried Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The pale perspiring landlord held his harmless weapon
+in his left hand, covered by the loaded pistol of Max in
+the coach.  On they drove, ploughing up the soil heavy
+with last night's rain, the horses straining at the traces.
+They were within thirty yards of the bridge.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Shout, landlord!" said Harry in a loud whisper
+through the open window.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are! here we are!" cried the man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Louder!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are!"  He almost shrieked the words.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The others are behind!" prompted Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The others are behind!" cried the landlord.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The sentry at the farther end of the bridge gave an
+answering shout; the boards that served for a gate were
+removed; the coach clattered and rumbled over the
+rocking creaking planks, and the postilions pulled up their
+reeking horses in the courtyard of the castle.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="across-the-fosse"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Across the Fosse</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Shoulder to Shoulder—Wrecking the Bridge—Well Found—The
+Dungeons of Rauhstein—The Castle Cook—The Enemy's
+Plan—Unwilling Help—A Parley—The Bridge Builders—At
+Short Range—Supper—Counsel—Fireworks—Long Odds—A
+Rush—From a Sling—A Covered Way—Firing the Train—Shambles</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The shouting and the clatter of the coach had drawn the
+garrison into the courtyard.  From these twenty men, the
+remnant of the brigand band, a great cheer went up, and
+they pressed forward eagerly to see the princely captive.
+Two or three of them were unarmed, but the rest, with
+the habit of seasoned warriors, had their swords in their
+belts and carbines slung at their shoulders.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well done, Otto!" cried one, slapping the landlord on
+the back.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment both doors of the coach were flung
+open, and out of each sprang a man with a pistol in the
+left hand and a sword in the right.  These were followed
+by others, and before the astonished garrison realized the
+situation, six fully armed men were among them, and one,
+a tall, dark, lissom young fellow, all fire and energy, was
+calling on them to surrender.  A few, cowed by the pistols
+pointed within a foot of their heads, and taken utterly
+aback by this astounding change of scene, flung down
+their carbines from sheer inability to think; but the more
+nimble-witted, and those on the outskirts of the little
+group, scurried away, under cover of their comrades, out
+of range, unslinging their carbines and drawing their
+swords as they ran.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the foremost postilion, in obedience to orders
+previously given by Harry, whipped up his horses and
+drove them at a gallop round the courtyard, narrowly
+escaping a bullet from the carbine of one of the garrison,
+until he came opposite the gateway, where he drew up so
+as to present the side of the coach to the opening, and cut
+the traces.  The garrison, having by this time perceived
+by how small a body they were confronted, came forward
+in a compact mass against the little band.  Carbines
+cracked, pistols flashed, steel rang on steel, and with
+shouts and oaths the two bands engaged.  Harry was not
+in this mellay, for in the confusion he had slipped away
+and rushed through the archway, just in time to see the
+sentry striving with might and main to hurl the planks
+of the bridge into the fosse.  He had caught sight of
+eleven dragoons in Austrian uniform galloping up from
+the valley half a mile away.  The man turned as he heard
+Harry's approach, snatched up his sword, which he had
+dropped for his work with the planks, and threw himself
+into his guard in the nick of time to meet the attack.
+Harry felt that it was not a moment for fine sword-play;
+the man was a burly fellow, clumsy, and to appearance
+dull of wits.  Running a risk which would be fatal if his
+opponent were a keen swordsman, Harry gave him an
+opening.  It was instantly accepted, but the thrust was
+parried with lightning rapidity, and before the man could
+recover himself Harry's sword had ploughed a deep furrow
+in his forearm, and with a yell of pain he let his own
+weapon fall to the ground.  Stepping back at the same
+moment with the instinct of self-preservation, he tumbled
+headlong into the fosse.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Immediately Harry wheeled round and dashed back
+to the support of his men, now engaged in a desperate
+and unequal battle.  Their backs to the coach, they were
+facing dauntlessly thrice their number of infuriated
+brigands, who had discarded their firearms and came to the
+attack with swords flashing in ever-narrowing circles.
+One of the dragoons had already fallen; but his comrades
+were all tough soldiers tried on many a battle-field, recking
+nothing of the odds, every man with full confidence in
+himself and his fellows.  They were ranged in a quarter circle
+against the coach, with just enough space between them
+to allow free play with their weapons.  Twice already had
+they beaten back the enemy; a third and more determined
+onslaught had somewhat broken their formation, and two
+men had been wounded and forced back, exposing the
+flank of the others.  Harry sprang through the coach
+just in time to close the gap.  He hurled himself into
+the fray with a shout; the enemy, taking him for the
+advance-guard of reinforcements, fell back for a moment;
+and before they could recover and return to the charge
+there was a thunderous clatter on the bridge, the eleven
+troopers flung themselves from their steeds, and
+scrambling man by man through the coach gave threefold
+strength to the hard-pressed line.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Charge!" shouted Harry in his clear, ringing voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The men surged forward with a roar of exultation,
+scattering the brigands to the limits of the courtyard.
+Two or three bolted like rabbits into the keep; the rest
+cried for quarter and flung down their arms; the din of
+battle suddenly ceased, and some seventeen panic-stricken
+prisoners were the prize of the victors.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Max, go into the keep, up the stairs to the top, and
+tell me what you see."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>From the parapet of the keep Max shouted that he saw
+a large troop of horse not a mile away, galloping amain
+towards the castle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Men, with me!" cried Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Twelve dragoons sprang through the coach after him,
+and with haste helped him to draw the planks of the bridge
+within the archway.  They had completed their task save
+for the last plank when the foremost files of the enemy
+galloped up, checking their horses at the very brink when
+they saw the unbridged gap before them; no horse could
+cross on a two-foot plank.  Harry withdrew his men just in
+time to escape the bullets fired at them by the baulked and
+enraged brigands.  At the last moment he himself stooped,
+lifted the end of the plank, and hurled it into the fosse.  A
+slug whizzed past his head; he dashed back under the
+archway, through the coach, breathless but safe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he stepped through the coach into the courtyard he
+heard a groan.  His wounded men had been carried into
+the keep; at the moment no trooper was near.  Bending
+down, he looked beneath the coach, and saw the landlord
+lying flat on his face, his head buried in his arms, groaning
+dismally.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you hit, landlord?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord have mercy on my soul!" groaned the man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind your soul; are your limbs sound?  Come
+out, and let me look at you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A palpitating mass crawled from beneath the vehicle.
+Dirty, chap-fallen, and dishevelled, but unhurt, the landlord
+stood in trembling and pitiful cowardice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you hurt?  Come, I've no time to waste.
+Why," he added, as he turned the man round and examined
+him, "you haven't a scratch.  You're a pretty consort of
+ruffians!  Get away into the keep and make yourself
+useful, or——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man scrambled away in limp despair, and Harry
+smiled grimly as he went about his pressing task.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that he was safe for a time.  The two hundred
+men outside were completely cut off from their quarters.
+"If they want their castle they must come and take it,"
+thought Harry.  They could only enter by one of three
+ways: the main entrance, if they repaired the bridge—but
+that could be prevented by marksmen within; the tunnel—but
+that could be blocked up; the tower by which he himself
+had escaped—but one or two men there could easily
+prohibit access by the slope and postern.  Harry set a
+sentinel at each point, and then made a rapid survey of
+the position.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He found that the castle contained, besides a huge quantity
+of plunder, a plentiful stock of provisions, arms, and
+ammunition.  There were indeed many bags of powder
+ranged carelessly around the walls of the courtyard, and
+these Harry had removed to a more secure place in one of
+the towers, and covered with sacking.  He then went up
+on the battlements to see what the enemy were about.
+They had withdrawn to a knoll at some distance and
+dismounted, and an exciting discussion appeared to be going
+on among their leaders.  Harry called to Max to remain
+on the look-out and report any fresh movement among
+them; then he prepared to visit the dungeons.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoners had been secured in the hall of the keep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Which of you acts as warder?" asked Harry, entering
+the hall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zooks! if it an't young Mr. Rochester!" said an
+amazed voice in English.  "I be the warder, Mr. Rochester."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You, John Simmons!  Now, answer me quickly: are
+there any prisoners below?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There be two, sir, certainly, and I was against it—that's
+the truth, sir; I was against it, but the capt'n he would
+cool their courage, he said, and what could I do,
+sir?—though it did cut me to the heart to serve
+Mr. Fanshawe so——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, knave!  Take me to the place at once."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was against it," muttered the man, as he led the way
+out of the hall, through the stone passage, into a room
+near the spot at which Harry had ascended from the
+tunnel.  Here he lifted a slab in the floor, and let down
+a rope ladder, coiled beneath it, into a pit of blackness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They are there?" exclaimed Harry in horror, as he
+peered down, and found himself unable to discern anything.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was against it," murmured Simmons again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The inhuman fiends!" cried Harry.  "Fanshawe, are
+you there?" he called into the mouth of the dungeon, his
+voice echoing strangely from the hollow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," came the faint answer.  "Who are you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis Harry Rochester, old fellow.  We'll have you out
+in a trice,—and Lieutenant Buckley, too; is he with you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay.  Is the ladder down?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes.  Come along; we're all friends here."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soon Fanshawe's fair head appeared above the hole.
+Harry caught his arm and helped him to step on to the
+floor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless you, Harry!" he said feebly.  His cheeks
+were drawn and pale; his eyes sunken and haggard; his
+hair was dank and disordered; and he tottered and would
+have fallen but for Harry's sustaining arm.  After him
+came a young officer whom Harry did not know.  He,
+too, showed signs of suffering, but his incarceration was
+shorter by several days than Fanshawe's, and he was not
+so much overcome by the sudden return to light and
+liberty.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old fellow!" said Harry, linking his arm in
+Fanshawe's.  "Come and let me make you comfortable.  I'll
+tell you all about things by and by, and hear what you
+have to tell.  We must get you right first.  Aglionby shall
+pay for this!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The two luckless prisoners were taken to the hall and
+given food.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I've fed 'em twice a day reg'lar," said Simmons.
+"They ha'n't wanted for nothing, and I was against
+keeping 'em shut in that there damp and foul hole."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence, fellow!  Go and bury the men killed in the
+fight.  Then come to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Having made Fanshawe and Buckley as comfortable as
+possible, Harry selected one of his own men to act as
+store-keeper, and then, as a sudden idea struck him, called
+for the landlord.  The man could not at first be found,
+but after some search was discovered and hauled with
+many gibes into Harry's presence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Cease whimpering and listen to me," said Harry.
+"You must do something to earn your food.  You shall
+be cook.  Doubtless you know the arrangements of this
+place; go and prepare a good meal for the men, and do
+your best; it will be to your interest."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Ascending then to the top of the keep, he sent Max
+down to get some breakfast, and looked around.  The
+enemy were not in sight.  They had evidently withdrawn
+into the copse about half a mile distant; perhaps under
+cover of it they had drawn off altogether.  But
+knowing their leader, and imagining the fury with which
+he must have seen the frustration of his carefully-laid
+plans, Harry could not believe that he would tamely
+accept the check as final.  Aglionby, whatever his faults,
+did not lack courage.  He was not likely to throw up the
+game at the loss of the first trick.  He would probably
+assume that it was Prince Eugene himself who had stolen
+a march upon him; in that case he would suppose that he
+had the prince caged in the castle; and whatever
+advantage he had expected to derive from the capture of the
+prince would induce him to strain every nerve to prevent
+him from escaping.  His aim, Harry supposed, had been
+to hand Prince Eugene over to the Elector of Bavaria, and
+reap much credit as well as a more tangible recompense.
+In order to entrap the prince he had sent on Fanshawe's
+letter by another hand.  If he returned to the Elector's
+army without his prize, when the odds had seemed all in
+his favour, he would become the laughing-stock of the
+camp.  Harry therefore felt certain that he would attempt
+to retake the castle at whatever cost.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>If he should succeed, Harry knew that he himself need
+expect no mercy.  Aglionby had a long account against
+him; time after time his plans had been foiled; the sole
+item on the credit side, the saving of his life at Breda,
+was likely, in a man of his disposition, only to deepen his
+rancour.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He would, of course, sooner or later find out his mistake
+in regard to Prince Eugene; and when the discovery was
+made he would expect the prince to send a force at the first
+opportunity to relieve the men, whoever they were, who
+had captured the castle, or at any rate to avenge their fate.
+In either case Aglionby would lose no time, but would
+hasten by all the means in his power any attack he might
+meditate.  So far as Harry could judge, he had nearly
+three hundred men under his command; it would not be
+long before he learnt, if indeed he did not already know,
+that the present holders of the castle did not number more
+than a score.  In the circumstances he would almost
+certainly attempt to take the place by assault, and the obvious
+point of attack was the gateway.  The bridge was broken
+down; the fosse was too deep to be filled up; the attackers
+would therefore have to construct another bridge, and the
+fosse being little more than twenty feet wide, they could
+easily rig up a portable platform strong enough to carry
+them to the assault.  There was plenty of timber in the
+neighbourhood; with the force at his disposal Aglionby
+might make a serviceable bridge in a few hours.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, what was Harry to do with the prisoners?
+The question gave him some trouble.  He had plenty of
+provisions; there would be no difficulty in feeding them;
+but if he kept them in the castle they would require a
+guard of at least one man day and night, so that of his
+own little band two men would practically be lost for
+effective defence.  If, on the other hand, he let them
+loose, he would add eighteen men, fourteen of whom
+were unhurt, to the enemy's strength.  Deciding that on
+the whole it would be best to keep them, he went down
+to settle their fate without loss of time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He gave them one by one the option of making himself
+useful in the defence of the castle, or of being lowered into
+the dungeon whence Fanshawe and Buckley had just been
+released.  With one consent the men elected to avoid the
+dungeon.  Harry at once set some of them to collect
+stones from the more ruinous parts of the castle, and to
+pile them up across the gateway, leaving loopholes for
+musketry fire.  Others he ordered to take a supply of
+heavy stones to the summit of the keep, and to stack
+them there out of sight from the distant copse.  Three
+armed men accompanied each squad to prevent treachery.
+In pursuance of the plan of defence that was forming in
+his mind, Harry went himself to the most dilapidated of the
+three towers, and selecting two or three specially large
+blocks of stone, weighing at a guess about a hundred-weight
+each, he had them loosened from the debris and
+carried up the winding stair of the keep.  In the
+courtyard he saw a number of stout poles, for which a use at
+once suggested itself.  As they would not go up the
+winding stair, he got one of the men to splice several
+lengths of rope, and the long rope thus formed was let
+down from the top of the keep and knotted to one end of
+the poles, which were then drawn up the tower on the
+side facing the courtyard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When these tasks had been completed, the prisoners
+were placed in the ground-floor room of one of the towers,
+and a man was set over them, with orders to shoot any
+who should attempt to move from the place.  Harry
+divided his garrison into watches as on board ship, each
+watch to be on duty for four hours.  Every man had his
+post, and, entering into their young leader's spirit, the
+dragoons accepted readily the duties laid upon them, and
+showed themselves full of a light-hearted confidence that
+augured well for their success.  One and all they were
+hugely delighted with the trick, and discussed it among
+themselves with much merriment, exasperating Max, however,
+by the mock deference they still paid to him as Prince
+Eugene.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as he had a spare moment, Harry got from
+Fanshawe and Buckley an account of their experiences.  As
+he had guessed, Fanshawe had been captured at dead of
+night in the inn, his captors coming through the trap-door.
+Buckley had been misdirected by the landlord, and, losing
+his way, had fallen into an ambush.  Both had been kept
+in the dungeon day and night, and fed twice a day.  In
+his turn Harry related the chain of adventures which had
+ended so happily for them, and when he told them
+something of his plans for the future they both declared
+themselves well enough to assist him.  This, however, he would
+not allow for the present, promising to avail himself of
+their help as soon as they had had time to recover from
+the effects of their confinement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Just before noon, the man on the look-out at the
+gateway announced that one of the enemy was approaching
+with a flag of truce.  Harry climbed up to the battlements
+to the left of the keep, and as soon as the man was within
+earshot demanded his business.  Speaking in French, the
+messenger said that he had come at his captain's order to
+say that if Prince Eugene surrendered, he would be granted
+honourable treatment, and conducted to the camp of his
+highness the Elector of Bavaria, his men being allowed
+to go free.  If these terms were rejected, the castle would
+be stormed and every member of the garrison would be
+put to the sword.  The decision must be made in half an
+hour.  Harry smiled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You may take our answer now," he said.  "Tell your
+captain that soldiers of the confederate army do not yield
+to brigands and cut-throats."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The messenger rode back to the copse, and for some
+hours there was no further sign of the enemy, except for
+a few men who were noticed moving about a stretch of
+marshy ground about a mile from the castle.  Harry
+wondered what their object could be, and calling Max to him,
+asked what there was on the marsh that they were likely
+to find useful.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing there, Monsieur, but mud and reeds."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Reeds!  Of course.  They are cutting reeds to bind
+together lengths of timber for a bridge.  I heard the
+sound of chopping from the copse this morning.  Well,
+Max, I think we are prepared for them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Soon after three o'clock a body of about two hundred
+men was seen approaching on foot in open order.  When
+within musket-shot they took what cover the irregularities
+of the ground and the scattered shrubs afforded, and
+opened fire on every embrasure.  Among them Harry had
+no difficulty in recognizing the burly figure of Aglionby.
+Word was passed round among the defenders to make no
+reply.  The enemy were at present too far off to do much
+damage, or for the fire of the garrison to be effective.  A
+few minutes later Harry, who had posted himself on the
+keep, so that while invisible himself he could see
+everything, observed a small body of men emerge from the
+copse, bearing a number of narrow palisades, consisting,
+as he discovered on their nearer approach, of thin logs
+roughly bound together.  When they had come within
+about two hundred yards of the castle, the main body of
+the enemy directed a more continuous fire upon the battlements
+and loopholes, many advancing close up to the edge
+of the fosse.  Still there was no reply from the defenders.
+The bridge-bearers came up at a slow run.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had disposed of his little force as follows.  Three
+men were stationed on the top of the keep, four at
+loopholes on the stairways half-way up each side, five behind
+the barricade of stones in the gateway, and one to carry
+orders from his own position on the keep to the men
+below.  As soon as he saw the bridge-bearers approaching
+he instructed his dragoons to fire when he gave the word,
+but only at the men carrying the palisades.  The
+extemporized bridge was in four sections, each about two feet
+across, and carried by six men.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The twenty-four came on, halted at the brink of the
+gully, and prepared to raise their palisades.  Then Harry
+gave the word.  The troopers below had been instructed
+to fire at the left-hand sections, those above at the
+right-hand sections.  At the word they sprang up, thrust their
+muzzles through the embrasures and loopholes, and,
+undeterred by the patter of the enemy's bullets around them,
+took deliberate aim.  The effect was all that Harry had
+hoped.  The range was short; the men were old campaigners
+of iron nerve, and almost every shot told.  Two
+or three men in each section of the bridge-bearers fell; the
+rest, dismayed by the fate of their comrades, loosened their
+hold on the palisades, which dropped back on to the farther
+side of the fosse.  There was a rush among the bolder spirits
+to supply their places, and Aglionby himself, his red face
+purple with fury and excitement, threw himself at the head
+of his men, who strove with desperate haste to raise the
+palisades once more.  But there was no cessation of the
+fire from the walls.  Harry had taken the precaution of
+collecting from the stock of arms four muskets for each
+man, so that they needed to waste no time in reloading.
+No sooner had the palisades begun to rise again than a
+second fusillade burst forth from the castle; again the
+unwieldy poles fell clattering to the ground; again the men
+who had survived rushed back out of range.  Aglionby
+and one or two others at first refused to budge, and
+took shelter behind the timber; but when they found
+themselves deserted they at length scoured away after the rest,
+and the whole force drew off.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire no more," cried Harry.  "Let them look to their wounded."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Finding that the firing from the castle had ceased, a party
+of the enemy ventured to the edge of the fosse and removed
+the hapless men there, some stark dead, others wounded
+more or less severely.  Half a dozen men remained on
+watch at points surrounding the castle; the rest withdrew
+to the copse; and the members of the garrison, not one of
+whom was hurt, rejoiced in the repulse of this first assault,
+and went in relays to eat the meal which Otto the landlord
+had prepared for them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>No further movement of the enemy was observable.
+Max suggested that they had encamped in a large open
+glade within the wood.  As night drew on, a slight glow
+above the tree-tops and thin columns of smoke proclaimed
+that camp fires had been lighted.  Evidently, then, the
+enemy had not relinquished their hope of recapturing the
+castle.  They were, of course, aware that its present
+garrison could not escape, for the plank bridge could not be
+collected and replaced unobserved; without it the inmates
+could only leave on foot, and they would thus easily be
+overtaken by the horsemen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry sat down with Fanshawe and Buckley to eat his
+supper and discuss the situation.  He was most apprehensive
+of a night-attack.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They would have far better chances than by day," he
+said, "for their numbers would tell against us, and we
+should have to divide our force so as to guard points that
+might be threatened at any moment."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But the battlements are inaccessible," said Fanshawe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The tower by which I escaped, you remember, is not.
+'Tis difficult of approach, indeed, but not impossible to
+resolute men.  I should have to leave at least one man to
+guard the postern.  Of course, I shall block up the
+underground entrance by the tunnel; a few stones piled on the
+trap will prevent it from being lifted from below.  But in
+the darkness 'twill not be so easy to hinder the enemy
+from throwing a bridge across the fosse: that is most to
+be feared."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Defend it with a mine," suggested Buckley.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A good thought!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And easy to do.  The soil at the edge of the fosse will
+be soft: dig a hole and bury half a bag of powder in it.
+Pack it tightly with earth and stones; you can lead a train
+of powder through the barricade into the courtyard."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care it is out of the reach of stray sparks from
+the men's matches," said Fanshawe, "or there'll be an
+explosion too soon and all spoilt."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're good counsellors, both of you.  We'll make
+something of this defence among us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry waited until dusk before carrying out Buckley's
+suggestion, in order that his movements might not be
+seen by the enemy.  Having removed several stones from
+the barricade, he set two men to dig a hole near the
+gateway, filled it with a large charge of powder, and
+rammed down the earth upon it, taking care that several
+large stones were placed near the surface.  Then the
+barricade was restored, and the garrison rearranged, only two
+men being now left in the keep, the rest being ordered to
+take up their position in the courtyard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>These arrangements had only just been completed,
+and those of the dragoons who were not on watch had
+just turned in, when a body of men was heard approaching.
+The garrison was instantly called to arms, and
+Harry went up to a coign of safety in the battlements to
+await events.  It was almost pitch-dark: he dimly saw
+black masses moving about on the farther side of the
+fosse; but he had resolved not to waste powder and shot
+by opening fire with uncertain aim, and the enemy, finding
+their progress unmolested, came, as his ears told him,
+right up to the fosse.  He wished he had some means of
+throwing a light on the scene, but knew of nothing in the
+castle sufficiently inflammable for the purpose.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After a time the noise outside, strikingly in contrast
+with the absolute silence in the castle itself, increased; the
+sound was like that of men slowly moving forward with
+heavy loads.  Harry heard the clank of stone against stone,
+low whispers from across the fosse, less guarded
+commands from a short distance farther back, where work of
+some kind was evidently in progress.  As Harry listened,
+his uncertainty as to what was going on at length became
+intolerable, and racking his brains to devise some means
+of making a light he at last hit upon an idea.  The
+cushions of the coach were probably stuffed with hay;
+that would burn, and if smeared with grease might give
+a blaze strong enough to illumine the scene for a few
+moments.  He immediately had the cushions ripped up,
+and found that their stuffing was as he had guessed.
+There was a good stock of candles in the store-room; some
+of these were melted down and the grease poured into the
+long bundle of hay made from the cushions.  The mass
+was carried to the top of the keep, weighted with a stone,
+kindled, and thrown down.  It fell steadily, the flame
+increasing as it gained impetus, casting a yellow glare
+upon the walls of the castle and its surroundings.  Its
+appearance caused a sensation among the enemy: as
+it reached the ground several men rushed forward and
+stamped it out; but it had already fulfilled its purpose, and
+Harry had seen all that he wished to see.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the brink of the fosse the enemy had constructed a
+low parapet: a large supply of stones was stacked about
+thirty yards to the rear, and men were still adding to the
+store from the scattered debris in the fosse and at the base
+of the ruined walls.  The intention was clear: protected
+by the parapet, the enemy hoped to throw their bridge
+across the fosse in safety.  With this knowledge Harry's
+fear of a night-attack was removed, for if the enemy
+intended to assault in the darkness the parapet would be
+unnecessary.  They had apparently not cared to risk such
+an enterprise.  The bridge would be none too wide even
+in daylight for the passage of a body of men rushing pell-mell
+over it.  The attack, then, was probably to be deferred
+until dawn.  Having completed their task the enemy by
+and by drew off, and in anticipation of desperate work on
+the morrow Harry went to snatch a brief sleep, leaving
+Max as responsible head of the watch.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In the cool glimmering dawn of that June morning
+Harry was awakened by Max with the news that the
+brigands were moving from the copse.  He hastened at
+once to his post, and saw that the parapet extended for
+some twenty yards along the farther side of the fosse,
+with a gap in the centre protected by a traverse.  The
+enemy came forward rapidly, took up the palisades they
+had vainly endeavoured to throw across the fosse on the
+previous day, and under cover of the parapet began to rear
+them.  As Harry had feared, musketry fire from the castle
+was almost wholly ineffectual: only the men on the top
+of the keep got an occasional chance as the besiegers
+incautiously moved away from their breastwork, thus
+exposing the upper part of their bodies.  The long
+palisades were slowly reared on end, and lowered as
+slowly across the fosse, till the end nearer to Harry rested
+on the base of the barricade beneath the archway.  When
+the last section was in its place, the fosse was spanned
+by a bridge wide enough to allow four men to cross it
+abreast.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt a tightening at the heart as he realized the
+magnitude of the task he had set himself.  His force,
+reduced by his losses to eighteen, including himself and
+the two English officers, who were scarcely effectives, was
+outnumbered by nearly eighteen to one.  And the enemy
+were no feather-bed warriors.  Looking at their motley
+array, he recognized that he had to contend with some
+of the fiercest, most desperate, least scrupulous men of
+war that Europe could produce.  Their nationalities were
+as varied as their costumes.  His inexperienced eye could
+not distinguish their types: but he saw small men and big
+men, men fair, men dark, old and young; some were born
+dandies, as their attempts at decoration in adverse
+circumstances showed; others born tatterdemalions, who even in
+affluence would have held the decencies of costume in
+derision.  About a hundred seemed to be regular soldiers of
+the Elector of Bavaria's army.  Only one bond held them
+together: a common love of lawlessness and rapine.  He
+felt a new respect for Aglionby; only a man of some moral
+force, however perverted, could have imposed his
+leadership on such a heterogeneous crew.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment Aglionby was in consultation with a
+few others at some distance, and out of range of the
+clumsy firearms of those days.  Among the little group
+Harry singled out two men as of more consequence than
+the rest: a tall fellow matching the captain in height and
+bulk, wearing a red sash—the same man he had seen
+approaching the inn,—and a small active man in whose
+cap a peacock's feather was jauntily stuck.  They were
+evidently discussing with great animation their plan of
+attack.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As nearly as Harry could judge, about a hundred men
+were crouching behind the parapet.  A body nearly two
+hundred strong was held in reserve near the leaders.
+Against these Harry had five men in the gateway, three
+at the summit of the keep, three half-way up, and Max
+as lieutenant and aide-de-camp.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the group of leaders parted, a bugle rang out,
+and simultaneously with a fierce discharge of musketry
+from the parapet two men dashed forward from each end
+of the gap on to the bridge.  At a second's interval these
+were followed by another four, while several men rushed
+from the reserve towards the far end of the parapet to
+fill their places.  Three fell under the first volley from the
+defenders, but the rest sprang forward unhurt, and
+gaining the other side began to clamber up the barricade, to
+tear down the stones, or, thrusting their muskets through
+the loopholes, to discharge them hap-hazard at the
+garrison within.  But three of the defenders of the gate had
+held their fire, and, boldly mounting a low platform
+of stones just inside the barricade, they discharged their
+pieces point-blank into the mass of men now crowding
+with shouts across the bridge.  The brigands, Harry
+noticed, were headed by the big red-sashed Croatian he
+had seen in consultation with Aglionby.  They recoiled
+but for a second, then surged forward again, and, yelling
+with fury, hurled themselves against the breastwork.
+Eugene's troopers, led by Max, held their ground in
+silence, save for a muttered exclamation when one of their
+adversaries fell reeling into the fosse.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was not long before the weight of numbers began to
+tell; portions of the barricade had been pulled down; the
+gallant defenders were hard beset.  Calling to the two
+men in the keep, Harry rushed down and flung himself
+into the fray, shouting to Max to go to the top of the
+keep and carry out orders he had previously received.
+Max hurried away, and Harry lost count of time as he
+engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight across the
+fast crumbling barricade.  Standing upon their platform
+the defenders still had the advantage of position, and
+Harry and his two men being fresh, the enemy for some
+few minutes gained but little.  Then, as the attackers
+were once more beginning to make headway, there was
+a terrible crash on the bridge.  The fighting ceased as
+by magic; all was still.  A huge mass of stone, swung
+outwards from the top of the keep, had broken with
+terrific force through the light palisades, leaving only
+one section intact, and carrying with it into the fosse
+nearly a dozen men.  The survivors on the castle side,
+seeing themselves almost cut off, were seized with panic
+and made a simultaneous rush for safety, the big Croatian
+pushing his weaker and wounded comrades into the fosse
+in his reckless haste to regain the opposite bank.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry gave a gasp of thankfulness and relief,—and
+turned to see Fanshawe and Buckley, who, weak as they
+were, had come up unknown to him towards the close
+of the fight to bear a hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, old fellow!" he said to Fanshawe, "we
+have scored one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he turned again, and, leaning on the barricade,
+anxiously scanned the field.  The leaders of the enemy
+were once more in earnest consultation.  They must have
+lost at least twenty men in the short sharp struggle; but
+the defeat seemed only to have enraged them.  During
+the first part of the fight Max had been full in their view,
+and as he still wore the prince's costume the brigands
+were no doubt convinced that Eugene himself was the
+head and front of the defence, and were buoyed up by
+the hope of capturing him.  For some minutes the
+discussion among the leaders continued; then, as having
+come to a decision, they moved off with their men towards
+the copse, and, save for half a dozen who remained to
+watch the castle, were seen no more for some hours.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Their absence gave Harry an opportunity of attending
+to his wounded.  He found that three were somewhat
+seriously hurt, and one was rendered hors de combat.
+His total force was now reduced to fourteen, including
+himself, his brother officers, and the two men on guard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Towards mid-day, under a broiling sun, the enemy again
+appeared.  This time, in addition to palisades freshly
+made, they carried with them a number of rough
+frameworks penthouse shaped, fashioned from stout saplings
+bound together, like the bridge, with withies from the
+marsh.  Evidently there was a man of resource among
+them.  Each of the frames formed a kind of wooden tent,
+two yards long, some three to four wide, and six feet
+high, requiring the united strength of half a dozen men
+to carry.  But there was no lack of men, and the bearers,
+protected from bullets from above by the roof of these
+shelters, came safely almost to the edge of the fosse.
+The new palisades were thrown across, but this time the
+materials were stronger.  One of the sheds, its end closed
+with light logs, was rushed across the bridge by a dozen
+strong men.  A second was joined to it, then a third, and
+so on until a continuous corridor stretched across the
+fosse.  The lashings holding the logs together at the inner
+end being cut, from out of this testudo sprang brigand
+after brigand, who came impetuously up to the barricade
+and instantly engaged the defenders in a furious
+hand-to-hand combat.  Max, whose marksmanship with his huge
+sling had been so effective before, hurled stone after stone
+down upon the testudo, but they were turned off by the
+sloping roof, and though the bridge creaked and groaned
+under the impact it did not give way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was fortunate for the defenders that only a few men
+at a time could make their way through the shed, and
+the space at the end was too narrow to allow of a great
+accession of numbers unless the foremost could scale the
+barricade.  The enemy had again lost heavily at their
+first onset, but as soon as one man fell his place was
+supplied, and no respite was given to the little band
+within.  Shoulder to shoulder Eugene's men formed a
+wall of steel across the gateway: again and again they
+beat back the enemy at the breastwork.  But against
+such odds they could not hope to escape unscathed; there
+were no reserves; and of the enemy there was still a host
+ready and eager to fill the gaps.  One man and then
+another of the troopers fell, this one to rise no more,
+that to crawl away and stanch his wound.  Seven men
+were now all that was left of the fighting line, and when
+Fanshawe and Buckley came up and insisted on sharing
+their comrades' peril, Harry felt that he dared no longer
+delay the playing of what might prove his last card.
+With a word to Max to keep up the fight, he slipped for
+a moment out of the press, struck a flint, kindled some
+tinder he had kept in readiness, and then, shouting to
+his men to make for the keep, and waiting till they had
+begun to run, he lit the train.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the last moment a trooper fell, so badly hurt that
+he could not move.  Harry sprang forward, caught the
+man by the belt, and dragged him into the courtyard
+towards the keep.  The enemy, astonished at the sudden
+flight of the garrison, hesitated for a moment before
+charging across the obstacle which so far had held them
+off.  Then, just as they leapt forward over the barricade,
+now an irregular heap of stones, there was a blinding flash
+behind them, and a deafening roar.  The ground rocked;
+fragments of the dilapidated walls fell inwards and
+outwards; a dense cloud of dust and smoke bellied over the
+scene, and the air was rent by the cries of men in agony.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Disregarding the falling stone-work, Harry ran forward
+to the archway, his eyes smarting with the fumes.  As the
+cloud gradually settled, he saw crowds of the enemy
+huddled together on the farther side of the fosse, their
+eyes aghast intently fixed on the archway.  But of the
+bridge, and the sheds, and the stream of men who a
+minute before had been pressing forward exultantly across
+the fosse, not a vestige remained.  Wood and men lay an
+indistinguishable mass at the bottom.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-fight-in-the-keep"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Fight in the Keep</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Soldiers All—The Silent Watches—Twice a Traitor—The
+Oubliette—The Horizon—Fanshawe Volunteers—A Powder
+Barrel—Nearing the End—Allies—Von Stickstoff—More
+Stickstoff—The Confederate Camp—The Anspach
+Dragoons—At the Sword Point—A Brief Respite—The
+Fight on the Stairs—The Last Stand—The Anspachers</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry was sick at heart when he came to examine his
+losses.  Three of his men were dead, nine badly wounded,
+there was not one but bore marks, in bruise or cut or
+strain, of the desperate strife in which they had played
+such manful parts.  He arranged for the burial of the
+three gallant troopers; then, heavy-hearted as he was,
+set to work with indomitable pluck to repair the damage
+done to the defences.  The prisoners were pressed into the
+service; the barricade was restored, and another mine was
+dug, though from the crack that showed in the masonry of
+the archway Harry feared that a second explosion would
+bring half the keep tumbling about his ears.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Having done all that could be done, and shared a meal
+with his devoted men, Harry went with Fanshawe and
+Buckley to the top of the keep to discuss the future.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Our state is parlous, Fanshawe," he said.  "Another
+assault will wipe us out."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We have a breathing-space.  The brigands have
+had enough for the present.  Their ill-success must have
+daunted them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But Aglionby will not give up yet.  He is playing
+for a high stake.—What is doing yonder?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>In the distance he saw two wagons and a band of some
+fifty men making their way across the hills towards the
+copse in which the enemy were encamped.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Reinforcements, it appears," said Buckley.  "Perhaps
+food; they will raid every farmhouse round."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We must say nothing of this to the men," said Harry.
+"'Twould dishearten them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems you have no choice but surrender," remarked
+Buckley.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Never—unless you and Fanshawe as my superior
+officers take the responsibility."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," said Fanshawe.  "'Tis absurd to think of!
+The men are devoted to you; and Prince Eugene put you
+in command; you have done wonders, and whatever be
+the end, we'd be fools to interfere—eh, Buckley?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I won't surrender.  Say we make terms, think
+you the enemy would hold to them, finding the prince not
+here?  They would wreak vengeance on us for their
+disappointment and their losses.  They are in the main
+freebooters, the scum of the French and Bavarian armies, as
+near savages as men can be.  We could expect no mercy
+at their hands.  Besides, Aglionby will by and by discover,
+if he have not already done so, that I am here; and he has
+too many scores to pay off to deal very tenderly with me
+or my men.  We can but hold out to the last, and hope
+that help may come in time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The prince must by this be in our camp," said
+Fanshawe.  "What if we tell the enemy they are on the
+wrong scent?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twould avail us nothing.  Aglionby would not believe
+the story, or, if he believed it, would scout it publicly
+so as to keep his men together.  He would be the more
+deeply embittered against us."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in the right," said Fanshawe.  "Pray God
+help comes to us, then."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We can still hold the keep," said Harry.  "One man
+on the winding stair can hold many at bay; we must fight
+against time."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>That night Harry could not sleep for the harassing
+problem of the continued defence of the castle.  True, his
+object had been gained; Prince Eugene had got off in
+safety; he himself had fought a good fight; but it was
+clear that unless help came soon his defence must be
+broken through by sheer force of numbers.  He was
+resolved to die rather than fall a captive into Aglionby's
+hands; but the longing for life was strong within him.
+He thought of all that had passed during the two years
+since his meeting with Lord Godolphin: the strange
+vicissitudes, the ups and downs of fortune; the inexplicable
+enmity of Mr. Berkeley; his pleasant relations with
+Mynheer Grootz and the ladies of Lindendaal; the chances
+which had served him so well and brought him so near the
+realization of his dearest longings.  It was hard to think
+that at this moment, when the confederate army under the
+greatest generals of the age was moving towards events of
+high moment, he should be cut off in this obscure spot and
+robbed of the opportunity to which he had looked forward
+so eagerly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He did not think only of himself.  He remembered his
+companions—Fanshawe, Buckley, the faithful Max, the
+brave troopers whose fate was linked with his.  Their lot
+was worse than his, for they had ties—parents, children,
+relatives, to whom they were dear: he himself was alone
+in the world.  Apart from Mynheer Grootz, who he knew
+loved him; Madame de Vaudrey, whose feeling for him
+was warm; Sherebiah, whose affection was perhaps the
+closest of all; there was no one to be interested in his
+welfare.  Thinking of Madame de Vaudrey he thought of her
+daughter, and was dimly conscious that he would have
+liked to stand well in her eyes—to break through that cold
+reserve of manner she had always shown to him, and win
+from her one look or word of approval.  Fanshawe, he
+knew, still nourished a hope of winning her; it seemed to
+depend on him whether Fanshawe should have another chance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He lay awake, thus musing, and gazing at a star that
+shone through the loophole in the wall.  By and by he felt
+a strange uneasiness, unconnected with his previous train
+of thought.  All was quiet; not even the hoot of an owl
+broke the stillness.  Unable to account for his feeling, he
+rose and went to the top of the keep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Is all well?" he asked the sentry there.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"All is well, Monsieur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have seen or heard nothing?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Monsieur, but the scurry of rabbits in the
+fosse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He returned to his bed and lay down again.  But still
+he felt uneasy; again he was impelled to rise.  This time
+he went down into the courtyard.  Max was on duty
+there.  The horses were ranged round the walls; the
+coach stood in the corner to which it had been hauled;
+everything was as it had been.  He went into the large
+hall: the prisoners were all asleep, the sentry on guard.
+Something led him to continue his round; he was
+determined to allay his restlessness by examining every nook
+and cranny of the castle.  Taking a lighted candle, he
+made his way into the lower part of the keep.  He arrived
+at length at the chamber to which there was access from
+the tunnel.  He started, and stopped short in amazement
+and consternation.  The stones which had been heaped on
+the trap-door had been removed.  With a muttered
+imprecation on the man who he supposed had carried the stones
+up the keep for use with the sling, he was turning to order
+someone to replace them when he noticed that several
+stones were piled in a corner near at hand.  He stood
+still, puzzled at this strange meddling with his work.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment he heard a slight sound beneath him,
+and saw a tremor in the stone trap-door.  Could he believe
+his eyes?  One end of the stone was rising.  Quick as
+thought he blew out his candle, and backing behind a
+pillar drew a pistol from his belt.  His fascinated eyes
+were fixed on the slowly moving stone.  There was now
+a ray of light at its edge; he heard whispering voices.
+Steadily the heavy slab was pushed into a vertical position;
+then appeared the head, the shoulders, the body of a man.
+By the light of the sputtering candle he carried Harry
+recognized Otto the landlord.  Now he saw the meaning
+of all that had puzzled him.  The man, alarmed for his
+safety if, as must seem inevitable, the brigands captured
+the castle and found him there, apparently an accomplice
+in the trick played upon them, had sought to purchase his
+peace by leading them through the secret passage.  Harry
+felt a keen pang of self-reproach that he should not have
+foreseen this development and taken steps to prevent it.</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-109">
+<span id="mein-wirth-is-surprised"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Mein Wirth is surprised" src="images/img-341.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Mein Wirth is surprised</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But he was instinctively bracing his muscles for the
+impending struggle.  The landlord was now through the
+opening; he stepped on to the floor of the room and bent
+down to assist the next man.  Slipping the pistol back
+into his belt, Harry made two bounds and was beside the
+stooping figure.  The man heard his footfall and instantly
+straightened himself; but even as he raised the hand
+holding the candle to ward off the imminent blow, Harry
+struck him full upon the chin, and with a stifled gasp he
+fell headlong to the stone floor.  Then Harry, throwing
+all his weight against the slab, hurled it with a crash into
+its place.  The landlord's candle was guttering, still feebly
+alight, on the floor.  By its glimmer Harry hauled from
+the corner one after another of the stones that had been
+removed, and piled them with desperate haste upon the
+trap until the way was again effectually blocked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then, picking up the candle, he examined the prostrate
+body.  The man was stunned.  Harry, for all his anger,
+could not help pitying the poor craven wretch.  But only
+one course was open to him.  The crashing sound had
+already brought Max and two other men to the spot.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Lower him into the dungeon," cried Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And the dark hole in which Fanshawe and Buckley had
+spent nights and days now received the senseless body of
+the traitorous landlord.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sleep was banished for the rest of the night.  The
+alarm had gone through the garrison, and every man was
+on the alert.  It was clearly imperative to provide against
+a possible attack by way of the underground passage.
+Such an attack was, in truth, not very likely.  Only one
+man could pass the slab at one time from below, and save
+by mining operations the enemy could scarcely force a way
+through the ton of stones which Harry now caused to be
+heaped above it.  But it was necessary to set a watch at
+this point, and as he could not spare another man from his
+already too much diminished force he decided to withdraw
+the man from the tower by which he had escaped from the
+castle, and to release the prisoners.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Before he did this, however, he resolved to employ them
+once more in strengthening his defences.  It was pretty
+evident that the result of another assault would be to drive
+him into the keep.  The entrance to this from the courtyard
+was without a door; it was necessary to block it up,
+leaving only a narrow gap that could be easily closed.
+He employed the prisoners to pile the largest stones that
+could be found flush with the doorway, in such a manner
+that the enemy, approaching from the outside, should be
+unable to get a hold upon them or push them away.  A
+narrow opening was left, and heavy stones were placed on
+the inside, near at hand, to block it up when the time
+should come.  At the same time a large supply of missiles
+was conveyed to the top of the keep.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was clear from the movements of the enemy during
+the day that they were far from abandoning the siege.
+No doubt they had been encouraged by the arrival of
+reinforcements.  Sections for a new bridge were brought in
+the afternoon and placed close to the fosse, together with
+the sections of a second testudo.  These were certain
+indications of another attempt on the gateway.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Many times during the day Harry went up the keep and
+looked anxiously northward for the expected succour,
+always to be disappointed.  He could not believe that
+Prince Eugene had left him to his fate; something must
+have happened to detain the relieving force, and Harry
+thought with anguish of heart that it might arrive too
+late.  Then an idea struck him.  Why not send out a
+messenger to hasten the troops if they were indeed on the
+road?  There was one serious objection: the garrison
+could not safely spare a man.  He mentioned his idea to
+Fanshawe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go," said his friend instantly.  "I am of little
+use as a fighting man; my strength is not equal to a fight
+so desperate as the last.  But if I can get away, I might
+find a horse in a neighbouring hamlet, and I could at least
+keep my seat in the saddle.  And an officer would prove
+a better messenger than a trooper."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry accepted the offer.  Fanshawe might fall into the
+hands of the enemy, but he was willing to face the risk,
+and under cover of night there was a reasonable hope that
+he might elude them.  About ten o'clock he clambered
+along the battlements towards the rearmost tower, and
+there, assisted by a rope, he made his exit by the postern,
+slid down the slope more riskily ventured by Harry on his
+first visit to the castle, and, taking a wide sweep,
+disappeared into the darkness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Harry returned to the keep, he was informed by
+the sentry that he had heard dull movements beneath the
+trap-door.  The sounds had now ceased.  Harry's
+conclusion was that the enemy had been searching for a weak
+spot in the passage, and having failed had finally given up
+any notion of effecting an entrance there.  He arranged
+with Buckley to take the watch from midnight till dawn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>With the first glimmers of daylight Harry carried out
+his resolve to release the prisoners.  The odds were so
+heavy against him that one man inside was now worth
+thirty out, and with no prisoners to guard he could add
+one to his effective force.  Rapidly marshalling them, he
+led them to the ruined tower, and let them down by a rope
+as Fanshawe had been let down in the night.  The
+movement was seen by one of the enemy's scouts, and before
+the prisoners had all reached the ground a crowd of their
+comrades had gathered at the foot of the slope to meet
+them.  Their appearance seemed to create great astonishment;
+they were surrounded and eagerly plied with questions.
+One result of their release was that a new point of
+attack was disclosed to the enemy, who had apparently
+not dreamt hitherto of making an attempt by the postern.
+Harry saw a small body detach themselves from the main
+force and approach the slope; but knowing the difficulty
+of an assault uphill upon such a narrow opening he
+doubted whether they would push an attack home; still,
+it would have the effect of engaging one at least of his men.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was very early in the morning; the enemy had
+everything ready; but they appeared to be waiting for
+something.  Once more Harry scanned the horizon vainly for
+sign of helmet or lance.  Suddenly there was a deep
+rumbling roar from the interior of the keep; an exultant shout
+rose from the enemy's ranks, and rushing forward at full
+speed they began to throw their new bridge across the
+fosse.  Shouting to his men to hold the gateway to the
+death, Harry hastened down to the entrance of the keep,
+where he was met by stifling fumes of gunpowder.  Then
+he rushed up the winding stair to the first floor, and saw
+Buckley staggering towards him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I had just been relieved," panted Buckley.  "The
+explosion occurred the moment after I left the spot.  It
+stunned me for a few seconds.  The poor fellow who took
+my place must have been blown to atoms."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They laid a charge last night, 'tis clear," said Harry.
+"But they can't follow up at once; they must wait until
+the fumes have cleared away, and that will take time: there
+are no vent holes.  Remain at the top of the stair; with
+your musket and pistol you can hold several off for a time.
+They are assaulting the gateway; I must go."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry, having proved the futility of dropping missiles
+upon the testudo, had concentrated his whole force, save
+Buckley and the man in the tower, at the gateway.  He
+noticed that the new bridge was higher at the farther side
+of the fosse than at the end near the castle.  The reason
+was soon evident.  The testudo this time was not blocked
+up by logs, and Harry behind his barricade could see
+through its entire length.  A screen of saplings was
+suddenly raised over the farther end of the bridge; it was as
+suddenly removed; and down the inclined plane rolled a
+small keg of powder, with a burning fuse attached.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Back, men, back!" he shouted.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The command was only just in time.  They were but a
+few yards from the barricade when there came a roar like
+thunder, followed by a second as Harry's own mine was
+exploded, and through the swirling smoke fierce and
+derisive cheers.  Holding his breath and stooping low, Harry
+rushed back to see what damage was done.  The barricade
+had disappeared; the archway was in ruins; and the
+enemy were flinging another bridge across the fosse to
+replace that destroyed by the explosion.  So far as the
+defence of the gateway was concerned, Harry saw that the
+game was up.  At the best he could but delay the enemy
+for a few minutes, and even then he would risk having his
+men cut off from the keep.  Recalling the man from the
+farther tower, he collected his little band, ordered them to
+fire one volley into the advancing ranks, and then withdrew
+through the barricaded doorway into his last defence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment he heard the dull sound of a shot
+above.  Buckley must be beset!  Giving Max orders to
+hold the courtyard entrance, and sending a man to hurl
+down stones from the roof upon the enemy crowding
+below, he took two men with him to assist Buckley,
+whom he found hard pressed near the head of the other
+stairway.  Sword in hand, he was holding the narrow
+winding passage against the big red-sashed Croatian, who
+was making a desperate thrust at him with a half-pike,
+the head of which had been severed by the Englishman's
+blade.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Steady, Buckley!  I am here!" shouted Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He drew his pistol from his belt, slipped under Buckley's
+arm, and just as the Croatian hurled himself up the last
+step intervening between himself and his foe, Harry fired
+point-blank at his heart, and he fell back upon his
+comrades.  The narrow stairway was choked with men; the
+din of their shouts echoed and re-echoed from the winding
+walls, and above all the uproar Harry distinguished the
+tones of Aglionby, yelling to his men to make way for him
+to pass.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Fanshawe left the castle he walked steadily on
+for some hours, making a wide circuit round the enemy's
+position, guiding himself by the north star.  His progress
+was difficult over the hills in the darkness.  He had to
+scale bluffs, to creep up rocks, to spring across ravines,
+to wade through swamps at the risk of being engulfed,
+to skirt patches of wood—though in one case, finding that
+he was being taken too far out of his course, he plunged
+boldly into a copse, trusting to his good fortune to bring
+him safely out at the other side.  Thus delayed, it was
+long before he felt sure that he was safe.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At last he struck into a narrow pathway leading
+north-west.  Proceeding more rapidly along this, he was
+brought, after walking for some four hours, into what was
+apparently the highroad along which he had passed with
+Marlborough's letter about ten days earlier.  He was very
+tired, but resolved to press on until he reached a village.
+Another hour's walk brought him to a hamlet with a
+modest Gasthaus.  He knocked up the landlord, and with
+some difficulty persuaded the suspicious man to provide
+him with a horse.  No troops, he learnt, had passed
+through.  The landlord had been told that firing had
+been heard among the hills in the direction of Rauhstein;
+he did not understand what it could be, for the castle was
+in the possession of brigands, and he did not think the
+prince's men were near enough.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Staying at the inn but to eat a little food, Fanshawe
+rode on, and suddenly, some little while before dawn,
+came on a picket of four men upon the road.  He was
+challenged; the speaker was evidently a German, and of
+German Fanshawe knew not enough to frame a sentence.
+He tried French; but that raised the sergeant's suspicions;
+he mentioned the names of Marlborough and Prince
+Eugene, with no better success; and he was marched off
+under guard into the neighbouring village.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His escort halted at a small cottage, and the sergeant
+entered.  Colonel von Stickstoff was in bed.  He was
+awakened, but the colonel was nothing if not a stickler
+for etiquette, and he declined to see Fanshawe until he
+had made some preparations.  When Fanshawe was
+marched in, therefore, he found himself confronted by a
+short, stout, pompous little officer, with his tunic buttoned
+tight, a rug across his knees, which were guiltless of
+breeches, and a large flaxen wig set awry over his
+nightcap.  The quarter-master was summoned, and an
+interrogation began.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, sir, and what have you to say for
+yourself?" asked the officer in German.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe tried to explain in French, of which he had
+obtained a smattering.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!  You are a Frenchman!  Take that down,
+quartermaster.  Everything must be done in order."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was somewhat embarrassing.  Fanshawe might
+understand the German's French, but he must necessarily
+be ignorant of what was said to the quarter-master in
+German.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I am an officer in my lord Marlborough's army," he
+said haltingly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down, quarter-master.  A Frenchman in
+Lord Marlborough's army.  In what regiment, Monsieur?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In Schomberg's Horse."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down.  Now, Monsieur, explain to me how
+it is that you, a Frenchman in Lord Marlborough's army,
+are here, ten miles from his camp at Gros Heppach."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This was good and unexpected news.  Fanshawe at
+once proceeded to make it clear that he was an Englishman,
+then explained in as few words as possible whence
+he had come and the urgency of his mission.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that down," said the colonel, translating to the
+quarter-master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man wrote slowly, and Fanshawe was growing
+more and more restive.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg you to note, Monsieur," he said, "that while we
+are talking Prince Eugene's men are possibly being
+massacred by the brigands.  They are at least forty to one."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!  Take that down.  The enemy is in force; we
+must adopt every precaution.  No doubt they are an
+advance-guard of the Elector's army.  How many do the
+enemy number?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Some three hundred."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Three hundred!—And I have only two hundred and
+eighty-three.  We are outnumbered.  Take that down.
+We must arrange a </span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span>, according to rule, quartermaster;
+note that, strictly according to rule.  I will write
+you the instructions.  Lieutenant Spitzkopf will advance
+with ten men three hundred and twenty paces in front of
+our position; Lieutenant the Baron von Blindwurm will
+post himself with five men two hundred and sixty paces
+on our right flank—or is it two hundred and forty?  Hand
+me my manual, quarter-master."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a swamp there, Excellency," suggested the
+quarter-master doubtfully.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then they must post themselves in the swamp.  A
+</span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span> is a </span><em class="italics">postirung</em><span>; let there be no mistake about
+that.  Let me see; yes, here it is: page one hundred and
+nine: 'Superior force: detachment in presence of, what
+steps to take'.  Yes, it is quite clear; we must secure our
+position and send for reinforcements.  'Send for
+reinforcements': that is it.  You will at once send a messenger
+to Stuttgart; I will write a despatch to the general while
+he is saddling up."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then turning to Fanshawe he said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret, Monsieur, that, having failed to give the
+countersign, you must consider yourself under arrest until
+your bona fides is established.  Quarter-master, take the
+prisoner away; see that things are done in order, and be
+sure to wake me up when the enemy are sighted."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe protested, but the colonel was evidently
+impatient to get back to bed, and waved him peremptorily
+away.  He was led out and deprived of his arms, boiling
+with anger, and, feeling that every moment was of importance,
+in a state of desperation.  This was the officer to
+whom Prince Eugene had entrusted the urgent task of
+relieving his hard-beset troopers!  The confederate camp
+was only ten miles distant; if only he could find some
+means of sending word thither of the dire straits in which
+Harry was!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As he passed along the street with his escort, he saw
+a number of horses approaching, apparently from being
+watered.  The first, a fine charger lighter in build than
+the average cavalry horse of the period, was led by a
+groom, who at this moment tethered the animal to a
+post a few yards from his commandant's cottage.  The
+trooper into whose custody Fanshawe had been confided
+was marching on his right hand, carrying not only his
+own carbine but the prisoner's sword and pistols.
+Fanshawe saw a bare chance of escape and unhesitatingly took
+it.  With a sudden movement he deftly tripped the man up,
+sprang to the post, unhitched the reins, and before the
+onlookers could collect their scattered wits was on the
+horse's back and twenty yards down the road.  There
+was a great hubbub behind him; fortunately none of the
+troopers was at that time armed.  Suddenly he bethought
+him of the vedette whom the extreme caution of the
+commandant had doubtless caused to be posted in the rear of
+his force.  He might come upon him at any moment.
+Taking the first turning to the right he set spurs to his
+steed, dashed along a lane, leapt a fence, and plunged
+into an orchard.  From his study of the map previous to
+his ride with Marlborough's message he remembered that
+Gros Heppach lay on the Göppingen road, to the north-east
+of his present position.  If he could strike this by
+a path over the hills he might yet succeed.  He spurred
+on, the rising sun enabling him to choose the easiest
+ground, and by and by came upon a rough country track
+leading in the right direction.  He galloped along at
+break-neck pace, and gaining a little eminence, his eyes
+were gladdened by the sight of white tents dotting the
+valley some three miles below him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sped down the hill, and soon came plump upon a
+Dutch outpost, which had evidently seen him from afar
+and prepared to stop him.  Reining up, he asked to be
+taken at once to Lord Marlborough.  The Dutchman did
+not insist on explanations, recognizing him as an English
+officer, but sent a man at once to conduct him to
+headquarters.  He had but just reached the outer circle of the
+camp, when he saw Colonel Cadogan riding slowly along
+in company with another officer whom he did not recognize.
+Without hesitation he rode up to the colonel, saluted, and
+begged to be allowed a word with him.  His explanation
+was soon made, and to his surprise Cadogan burst into a
+great laugh and cried in French:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This concerns your highness.  The troopers who
+played the trick on the brigands, and that young
+daredevil Rochester, are trapped in a castle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nom d'un tonnerre!" cried Prince Eugene.  "Are they
+not relieved?  I ordered a detachment of Würtembergers
+to ride out to them two days ago as I passed through
+Stuttgart.  What has become of them?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It appears," said Cadogan, still laughing, "that they
+are on the road, but the colonel is learned in the art of war
+and is advancing by strategical moves."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sacrebleu!  He must be one of Baden's men.  That
+young countryman of yours, Colonel, must be saved."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, though he is a Dutchman now.  Mr. Fanshawe,
+your friend's regiment is close by; you had better take
+a squadron and ride out at once.  I suppose a troop or
+two of Dutch dragoons will be a match for the brigands?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, sir,—of the Anspach dragoons."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, lose no time.  I will mention the matter to
+the duke, to whom you will, of course, report yourself at
+the earliest opportunity.  Good luck to you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Fanshawe rode off, and within a quarter of an hour was
+leading some two hundred of Harry's troopers, Captain
+van der Werff at their head, and Sherebiah among them,
+along the shortest road to the castle of Rauhstein.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>The winding staircase of the keep was ampler than in
+most castles of the kind.  Two men could mount abreast,
+but it was only possible for one to find room for
+sword-play.  The attackers soon adapted their tactics to the
+conditions.  One man pushed to the front with sword and
+pistol; another just behind supported him with pistol and
+pike.  Not long after Harry came upon the scene, Buckley,
+all but sinking under the strain, had to be assisted up the
+staircase.  This gave the brigands a momentary advantage,
+for Harry was left with only one swordsman to stem
+the rush.  There was no room for his companion by his
+side; he therefore sent him aloft to bring large stones to
+hurl upon the mob.  Not for the first time he had reason
+to congratulate himself on the hours he had spent with
+Sherebiah and the Dutch instructor of his regiment in
+practising with sabre and rapier.  His was the advantage
+of position, but the enemy were always two to one, and
+had they had patience to recharge their pistols after the
+failure of their first flurried snap-shots, or boldness enough
+to press forward regardless of the loss of the first few
+men, they could have borne him down with ease.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Only a few minutes had elapsed after Harry's arrival at
+the stairhead when he heard a well-known voice storming
+below.  The enemy gave back for a moment, then Captain
+Aglionby pressed upward and engaged Harry hand to
+hand.  Harry was sufficiently occupied in parrying the
+captain's vengeful attack without the necessity of
+guarding against the pike that threatened every moment to
+impale him.  This he could only turn aside; he had no
+time for a sweeping cut to sever its head.  Fortunately
+for him the captain and his supporter impeded each other
+on the stairway.  Yet Harry saw that the struggle could
+not last long, and fervently hoped that the man he had
+sent for missiles would return in time.  The clang of
+weapons and the shouts of men rang through the
+stone-walled spaces.  Aglionby had learnt from the released
+prisoners of the trick that had been played upon him, and
+his fury found expression in the violence of his onslaught
+and the venom of the curses he hurled upon his nimble-wristed
+opponent.  Harry said never a word, but kept his
+eye steadily upon the captain, turning aside stroke and
+thrust.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At length he heard a footstep behind him.  A stone
+as large as a man's head struck the wall immediately
+below him on his left.  Narrowly missing Aglionby, it
+rebounded from the curved surface and struck the pikeman
+below him with a terrible thud.  With the steadiness of
+an old campaigner the captain did not so much as wince,
+but continued his attack with still more savage energy.
+When, however, another stone hurtled down the stairway,
+maiming two other men below him, the rest of his followers
+turned tail and fled helter-skelter to the foot.  A third
+stone grazed Aglionby's arm; then, seeing himself deserted,
+he backed slowly down the stairs.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The attack having been thus for a time repulsed, Harry
+left two men on the stairs with pistols ready charged and
+a supply of stones, and hurried across to the other
+staircase to find how things had gone there.  It was with
+unutterable relief he saw that the assault of the enemy
+on the entrance to the keep had so far been beaten off
+by the combined fire from the doorway and the hurling
+of heavy blocks of stone from the top of the building.
+But the enemy were preparing another move.  Finding
+that they could not force the obstacle, nor approach near
+enough to tear it down, they were about to try the effect
+of an explosion.  A keg of powder had been rolled to the
+entrance by a lucky rush between the falling of two of
+the dreaded stones from above; now, hugging the wall so
+as to avoid the fire of the defenders, they were laying a
+train.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry saw that it was only a matter of minutes before
+the barricade at the entrance to the keep would be blown
+in.  He utilized the time by bringing down a further supply
+of stones from the battlements and storing them within
+easy reach of the inner stairway.  He could not prevent
+the explosion, or raise further obstacles to the progress of
+the besiegers; he could but defend every inch of the
+staircase, and retreat, if it must be so, step by step to the
+top of the keep.  Almost despairing now of relief, he was
+prepared to fight to the end, and, looking round on his little
+group of stalwarts, he saw no sign of wavering on their
+part.  Eugene's men were worthy of their master.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour passed; the pause lengthened itself to
+an hour; yet the train had not been fired, the attack had
+not been renewed.  Had the enemy some still more
+desperate device in preparation?  Instinctively he looked far
+out over the country; but through the sun-shot haze he
+descried no sign of a friendly force.  Then the watchman
+whom he had left on the roof saw a thin ribbon of flame
+dart from the outer gateway, along the wall, to the barred
+doorway of the keep.  There was a deafening roar,
+followed by the crash of ruining stone-work and the
+vociferations of the exultant forayers, who swarmed forward
+to clear away the rubbish.  Their ingenuity was
+inexhaustible.  When the mingled smoke and dust had eddied
+away, Harry saw that they bore with them stout shields
+of wood, each carried by two men, intended to ward off
+the missiles he was preparing to launch upon them as
+they mounted the winding stairs.  This was the explanation
+of their long stillness.  Running down, he heard from
+his left the din of fierce strife in the stairway leading to
+the dungeons.  The enemy were attacking at both points
+simultaneously.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then began the last bitter struggle: the besiegers
+pushing relentlessly before them the long upright shields that
+occupied almost the whole height and breadth of the
+stairway; the besieged contesting every step, hacking and
+thrusting, splitting the shields with the jagged boulders
+from the ramparts, lunging with sword and pike through
+the narrow spaces at the sides, yet moment by moment
+losing ground as fresh men from below came up to replace
+their wounded or exhausted comrades.  A din compounded
+of many separate noises filled the narrow space—the crash
+of stones, the creak of riven wood, the clash of steel upon
+steel or stone, the crack of pistols, the cries of men in
+various tongues—cries of pain, of triumph, of encouragement,
+of revenge.  Desperately fought the little garrison,
+every man loyal, resolute, undismayed.  They had no
+reserves to draw upon; theirs but to stand staunch against
+fearful odds, and, if it must be, die with courage and clear
+minds.  With labouring breath, drenched with sweat,
+sickened by the reek, battle-worn and weary, they plied
+their weapons, hurled their missiles, grimly gave blow for
+blow.  Back and ever back they were driven by the
+remorseless shields; forced from the lower stairways they
+are now collected—a little band of seven—on the single
+one above; Harry and Max in front, two pikemen behind,
+and behind these, three who turn by turn smite the mass
+thronging below, over the heads of their own comrades,
+with cyclopean masses which only the strength of despair
+enables them to lift and hurl.  Now a stone crashes clean
+through one shield, ay, through two, making its account
+of the bearers, and giving pause to the brigands.  Now
+a pike transfixes a limb, a sword cleaves a red path, a
+bullet carries death.  But the enemy press on and up;
+like an incoming tide they roll back a little after every
+upward rush, rising, falling, yet ever creeping higher, soon
+to sweep all before them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Now only six men hold the narrow stair.  The dimness
+of the scarce lit space below is illumined from above; a
+yell of triumph breaks from the brigands' throats as they
+realize that they are nearing the top of the turret.  The cry
+is like a knell to the hearts of Harry Rochester and his
+devoted five.  Only a few steps, and they must be forced
+upon the roof, driven against the parapet, at bay to the
+horde of wolvish outlaws already exulting in their
+victory.  Aglionby has gone, sore hurt by a thrust from a
+pike; but a doughty leader is still left, the lithe Frenchman
+whose peacock's feather flickers hither and thither in the
+van.  Mechanically the defenders wield their weapons,
+cast their last stones; the force is gone from their strokes,
+their dints fall ever feebler and feebler upon the
+steel-edged wooden wall that thrusts them upward without
+mitigation or remorse.  Never a man dreams of yielding;
+Buckley falteringly whispers a word of final cheer; there
+is no mercy for such obstinate fighters from the savage
+outlaws, afire with the lust of blood, infuriated by the
+checks and losses of the past desperate days.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They are at the upmost turn of the stairway now, their
+heads already in the pure clear air of the bright June
+morning.  The imminence of the end nerves them for a
+last despairing rally.  Through the gaping joints of the
+battered shields they make so sudden and trenchant an
+attack on the foe that for a brief moment the upward
+movement is checked.  A rebound: already the feathered
+Frenchman leaps upward as on the crest of a wave, when
+a confused shout reverberates through the hollow turret,
+a message is sped with the rapidity of lightning from base
+to summit; all is hushed to a sudden silence; then, while
+the six stand in amazed stillness, the Frenchman swings
+round and, amid the clatter of wood and weapons, flees
+headlong down the stairs at the heels of his scurrying
+comrades.  Bewilderment for a moment possesses the six,
+as, with the vision of death before their eyes, they rest
+heavily on their weapons.  Then Buckley, nearest to the
+parapet, with a shout that breaks into a sob, cries:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"They flee! they flee!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Three bounds bring Harry to his side.  With elbows on
+the parapet he gazes hungrily into the open.  The four
+press about him.  Between the castle and the copse men
+are scampering like scared animals, a few on horseback,
+most of them on foot.  And yes—in the distance, moving
+across the hills from the north-west,—what is it that
+causes Harry's heart to leap, his blood to sing a song of
+tempestuous joy in every vein?  One look is enough; he
+cannot be deceived; in the horsemen galloping amain
+towards him he recognizes his own regiment, the Anspach
+dragoons.  One moment of self-collection: then he turns
+to his men.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We are saved, my men," he says quietly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And from the parched throats of the five war-scarred
+warriors on that ancient keep rises a hoarse thin cheer,
+that floats away on the breeze, and meets the faint blare
+of a bugle.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="blenheim"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Blenheim</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Compromising Papers—A Jacobite Agent—Praise from
+Eugene—A Contrast—Sherebiah Resigns—Foreign
+Ways—A Divided Command—The Duke's Day—The Field of
+Battle—"The Doubtful Day"—A Famous Victory—A
+Fugitive—Coals of Fire—A Revelation—Warnings—Silence—A
+Soft Impeachment—Down the Rhine</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Never a more cordial meeting took place between friends
+than the meeting of Harry with Godfrey Fanshawe.
+The latter, with Sherebiah, rode straight for the castle,
+while Captain van der Werff and his dragoons swept upon
+the scattered forayers, exacting a terrible retribution from
+all within reach of their sabres.  The moment when the
+friends met in the courtyard was too tense for speech.
+Buckley, weaker than the others after his imprisonment,
+almost sobbed; Eugene's three dragoons sat down on the
+flagstones and, resting their heads on their crossed arms,
+sought the blessed oblivion of sleep.  Harry's overwrought
+body was all a-quiver; his trembling lips stammered out
+broken and inconsequent phrases; and Fanshawe wisely
+left him to Sherebiah's tendance.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was not till much later in the day that the story of the
+siege was told.  Harry's fellow-officers were unstinted in
+their admiration of his pluck and resourcefulness.  He on
+his side was provoked to mirth by Fanshawe's story of the
+methodical Colonel von Stickstoff, though he was serious
+enough when, turning to his friend, he thanked him
+earnestly for what he had done to hasten the relief.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When Captain van der Werff arrived, he made a
+thorough search through the castle, and discovered in the
+cellars a large and motley collection of plunder gathered
+by the outlaws.  There were costly church ornaments,
+bullion, pictures, pieces of tapestry, jewelry, arms, clothes,
+articles of furniture, but no plate; this, he concluded, had
+been melted down to avoid the risk of discovery.  In the
+dungeon was found the shattered body of the landlord of
+the Zum grauen Bären, killed by the explosion engineered
+by his own friends.  Harry could not but reflect on the
+nemesis which had pursued this man of crooked ways.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Preparations were made in the late afternoon for riding
+back to the confederate camp.  Many of the stricken
+brigands had surrendered to Captain van der Werff's
+dragoons, and were escorted into Urach to be dealt with
+by the civil authorities.  At Harry's suggestion the bodies
+of the slain were examined by Sherebiah, to see if Aglionby
+was among them; but he was not recognized; it was
+probable that he had escaped.  Before the castle was finally
+deserted, Aglionby's room was searched.  In a wallet
+beneath his bed a large number of papers was found,
+consisting of letters, tavern bills, private memoranda, gazettes,
+and a parchment conferring the rank of captain in the
+dragoons of the Elector of Bavaria upon Ralph Aglionby, late
+of the Preobrashenski regiment of his imperial majesty of
+Muscovy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry looked through all these papers himself, hoping to
+find some clue to the inveterate animosity of Mr. Berkeley.
+But though he was disappointed in this, he discovered
+three papers which seemed to him of particular interest,
+and which he kept carefully apart from the others.  The
+first was a brief note in French from Monsieur de Polignac,
+written from the head-quarters of Marshal Tallard,
+congratulating Aglionby on his commission in the Bavarian
+forces, and asking him to meet the writer as soon as
+circumstances permitted.  From this Harry concluded either
+that Polignac had not been concerned in the attempt to
+drown Aglionby in the Merk, or that he was a man of
+consummate and unblushing duplicity.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The second was a letter from Mr. Berkeley himself,
+written long before.  The squire spoke of enclosing
+money, and referred to the matter of H—— R——,
+hoping that the captain would make a better job of this
+commission than with the M—— M——, by which Harry
+understood the name of the vessel that had carried him
+down the Thames.  The letter continued:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"I shall require of you cleare proofe of your profess'd Zeale in
+my service before I despatch any further Remittance.  It will
+beseeme you to send me an Attested Copie of such </span><em class="italics">Forme of
+Certificate</em><span> as is usual in Holland.  Let nothing stande in the
+way of this moste necessarie Document; I doubt not that
+among the </span><em class="italics">Notable People</em><span> with whom you at present consorte
+there will be founde a </span><em class="italics">respectable</em><span> Attorney to whom the
+Businesse may be with suretie confided."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>This letter left no possibility of doubt that Mr. Berkeley
+was prepared to stick at nothing to remove Harry; but it
+threw no light on his motive, and Harry was as much
+perplexed as ever.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The third of the papers was a letter from a certain
+Anne Consterdine in Westminster, addressed to Aglionby
+at the Hague.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"This is to advise you", it ran, "that the Packett from
+M. de P—— despatch'd by the hands of the Honnest Captin
+came safely to my hands.  The Gratification that you use to
+recieve will be pay'd to you at the same Place as afore.  I am
+bid by the </span><em class="italics">Friende</em><span> at St. J—— to say that besides this your
+Name &amp; Services have been noted with a speciall Marke, &amp; will
+be </span><em class="italics">rewarded</em><span> with all Rightfull Diligence when the </span><em class="italics">Good Shippe</em><span>
+you wot of comes safe to Port."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>To Harry this letter was a mere enigma; it bore no
+special significance; but he gained enlightenment when
+he showed it to Fanshawe.  That young man was three
+years older than Harry, and had moved in a more varied
+society.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" he exclaimed, on reading the letter, "your
+friend Aglionby has many irons in the fire.  'Tis clear he
+is a go-between, and the correspondence, being betwixt
+Westminster and the Hague, can mean but one thing.
+The 'good ship', too—what can that be but the ship
+that is to convey the Pretender to England to assume
+his father's crown?  Your Aglionbys and Polignacs are
+Jacobites, Harry; there will be another bone to pick with
+them."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The plunder was packed into Prince Eugene's coach;
+the wounded dragoons were set on horseback and taken
+into Urach for treatment.  Then, after the destruction of
+what ammunition remained in the castle, Harry rode with
+his comrades and Eugene's three dragoons from the
+memorable scene, and before sundown entered the confederate
+camp at Gros Heppach.  The news of their coming had
+been already spread by a man riding in advance, and their
+entry was made amid the clamour of thousands of shouting
+men and drums and fifes.  In a sort of triumph Harry was
+escorted to head-quarters, where, in the presence of
+Marlborough and Eugene and officers of their staffs, he had to
+tell over the story of the ruse and the subsequent siege.
+He remembered afterwards how differently the two great
+generals had heard him.  Prince Eugene ever and anon
+broke into exclamations, slapped the table, crossed and
+uncrossed his legs, was up and down, restless and excited.
+Marlborough listened throughout with the same tranquil
+attentiveness, scarce moving, saying never a word.  When
+the story was ended, Eugene cried impetuously:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma foi, my lord, this is a lad of mettle.  He has done
+right worthily, and merits much at our hands.  For
+myself, I beg him to accept at once this ring; you did me a
+gallant service, Monsieur, and it will not displease you to
+wear as a token of my thanks a ring from the finger of
+Eugenio von Savoye."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I add my thanks to his Excellency's," said Marlborough
+quietly.  "If I mistake not, my secretary already
+has your name on a list for advancement; it is a long list,
+but no name has more merit than yours.  You will see to
+it, Mr. Cardonnel, that Mr. Rochester is not overlooked."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Parbleu, my lord!" exclaimed Eugene, "I am for
+speedier measures.  The lad is an officer of Dutch dragoons,
+I believe.  I ask for his services as aide-de-camp to
+myself; and, ma foi, I give him a commission in my own
+hussars.  Monsieur, you will not object to the transfer?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Excellency does me too much honour," said
+Harry, his breath almost taken away by such good fortune.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is settled then, with my Lord Marlborough's
+consent?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no objection, your Excellency.  And the young
+man could not be in better hands."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will see your colonel, Monsieur, and the matter
+shall be arranged as speedily as possible."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry felt some natural elation at this surprising change
+in his fortunes.  He was a little amused, too, to think that
+this was the third time he had come under Marlborough's
+notice, and each time the benevolent intentions of the duke
+had been anticipated.  He could not but contrast Prince
+Eugene's impetuous generosity with Marlborough's placid
+goodwill; it was not till long afterwards that he
+understood what obstacles lay in the duke's way.  Marlborough
+was continually being pestered with applications from
+people of importance at home on behalf of their friends
+and connections; and in the then state of politics he could
+not afford to set aside the requests of those whose support
+he was so deeply concerned in retaining.  Harry never
+had reason to doubt the kindness of Marlborough's feeling
+towards him, and as he gained knowledge of the complex
+intrigues in which the public men of those days were
+enmeshed, he thought of the duke without bitterness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Before many days he was gazetted captain in the Imperial
+service, and left his regiment to join Prince Eugene.
+His departure was signalized by a banquet got up by his
+fellow-officers, at which he was embarrassed by the many
+complimentary things said of him.  He parted from his
+old comrades with regret, tempered by delight at the
+prospect of close service with the great general who had
+so highly honoured him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Since his return to camp, he had remarked a strange and
+unaccustomed moodiness in Sherebiah.  The worthy fellow
+went about his duties with his usual care and punctuality,
+but he was abnormally silent, seldom smiled or hummed
+country songs as he had been wont to do, and appeared
+to be in a state of chronic antagonism to Max Berens,
+whom Harry had taken as additional servant since their
+adventure together.  Harry affected to ignore Sherebiah's
+change of manner; but in reality it amused him, and he
+was in constant expectation of something that would bring
+matters to a crisis.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One morning Max came to him in a state of exaltation.
+Prince Eugene, unwilling that a man who had worn his
+clothes to such good purpose should remain unrewarded,
+had not only presented him with the suit, but had
+purchased for him the Zum grauen Bären on the Urach road.
+Max said he was loth to leave his new master, but could
+not throw away so good a chance of settling in life, and
+added that as Mr. Rochester's Englishman apparently
+disliked him, the prince's gift had come most opportunely.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Max had hardly left Harry's presence when Sherebiah
+entered.  He doffed his cap and fingered it uncomfortably, his
+usually cheery face wearing a portentously lugubrious look.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sherry, what is it?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, 'tis like this, sir.  'Tis a sayen, a' b'lieve, when
+in Rome do as the rum uns do.  These be furren parts,
+and there be furren ways o' doen things.  Seems like now
+as if I bean't no more use, and I've been a-chawen of it
+over, and the end on't is, I be come to axe 'ee kindly to gi'
+me my discharge, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, Sherry! you surprise me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, sir, I be nowt but a Englishman,—a poor
+honest Wiltshire man; you can't make a silk purse out o'
+a sow's ear, and nothen'll make a furrener out of a
+home-spun countryman."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true enough, Sherry, but you're right as you are."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, sir, axen your pardon.  True, I ha' still got a bit
+o' muscle, and can handle a sword featly; but I'm afeard
+I can't brush a coat nor fold a pair of breeches like a
+furrener, let alone wearen on 'em.  Zooks! suppose a man
+do get inside of a high prince's goodly raiment, do it make
+un a whit the better man?—I axe 'ee that, sir.  Many's
+the time I've seed a noble coat on a scarecrow in a
+turmut-field, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry remembered that of late Max had made the care
+of his clothes his special province.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Furren ways and furreners," continued Sherebiah,
+"I can't abide 'em, and but for bein' a man o' peace I'd
+find it main hard to keep my hands off 'em, be they in
+prince's fine linen or their own nat'ral smalls, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't like foreigners, eh?—Katrinka, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was nonplussed for a moment, but recovered
+himself with his usual readiness.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, but there's a deal in the bringen up, sir.  You can
+break a colt, and tame wild beasts, and make summat o'
+crabs wi' graften.  Katrinka be a young wench, and
+teachable; bless 'ee, I've teached her how to fry a rasher and
+make a roly-poly; her be half Wiltshire a'ready, and sings
+the song o' turmut-hoein' like a bird.  And 'tis my thought,
+sir, bein' discharged, to have our names cried and do the
+lifelong deed, and goo home-along and bide wi' feyther."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if your mind's set on it, I suppose I must be
+content to lose you both."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah ceased twiddling his cap and looked startled.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Both, sir!—did I rightly hear 'ee say both?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you and Max."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoy! be it the holy state o' matrimony wi' he too?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't wonder.  Prince Eugene has made him a
+present of the Zum grauen Bären inn, and he'll want a
+wife to help him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah looked thoughtfully at the floor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The striplen be a good enough feller," he said slowly.
+"Barren his furren blood, which he couldn't help, poor
+soul, he bean't a bad feller.  He looks uncommon spry in
+the prince's noble garments—ay, he do so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah paused, and began to twiddle his cap again.
+Harry waited patiently.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a-thinken, sir, 'twould be onbecomen in a Wiltshire
+man to let his duty goo by, in furren parts an' all.  Bean't
+in reason for both to take our discharge all o' a heap, and
+if the young man Max goos, I bides, leastways till 'ee set
+eyes on a plain Wiltshire man as 'ee'll fancy better."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's all right, Sherry.  Now I think the best
+thing you can do is to go and wish Max good luck."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He could not help smiling at Sherebiah's obvious relief
+at the turn things had taken.  Sherebiah heaved a deep
+sigh; then, as he observed Harry's amused expression, a
+broad grin overspread his features, and he moved away.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>With the arrival of Prince Eugene the campaign entered
+upon a new phase.  Dissimilar as they were in character
+and temperament, the prince and the duke at once became
+fast friends.  Eugene not merely fell under the spell of
+Marlborough's personal force of character; he recognized
+his transcendent genius, and threw himself with enthusiasm
+into his plans.  Unluckily, the Prince of Baden was
+a man of a different stamp.  He was a soldier of the old
+school, brave as a lion, but wanting in judgment, cautious,
+methodical, a stickler for form.  He joined the others in
+counsel at Gros Heppach, and being the eldest in rank
+expected that they would yield him the chief command.
+But the execution of their plan, so daringly conceived,
+demanded qualities he did not possess, and Marlborough
+had to exercise all the tact and patience of which he was
+so consummate a master.  With much difficulty he
+persuaded the prince to share the command with him on
+alternate days, but not all his diplomacy availed to induce
+him to depart for the Rhine army.  He insisted on
+remaining with Marlborough on the Danube, and Eugene had
+reluctantly to accept the other charge.  On the 14th of
+June, therefore, Eugene left for Philipsburg, to watch
+Marshal Tallard, who was marching along the Rhine to
+join forces with the Elector of Bavaria.  Harry
+accompanied him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Then began a fortnight of wearisome marching, in cold
+and rainy weather.  The Elector of Bavaria was by this
+time aware that Marlborough's design was to attack him,
+and in order to cover his dominions and check the
+confederate army until the expected reinforcements reached
+him he sent General D'Arco to occupy the Schellenberg,
+a height commanding Donauworth, on the north bank of
+the Danube.  Hearing from Eugene that Tallard and
+Villeroy were at Strasburg organizing these reinforcements,
+Marlborough decided immediately to attack the
+Schellenberg.  It happened to be his turn of command;
+he knew that if the day was allowed to pass Baden would
+find reasons for postponing the attempt, and after a hard
+march he threw his weary troops upon the position and
+carried it with heavy loss against an obstinate defence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A diplomatic attempt to detach the Elector from his
+alliance with France having failed, Bavaria, now open
+to the confederates, was put to fire and sword.
+Marlborough, one of the humanest generals that ever lived,
+refused to allow his own forces to engage in the work of
+burning and pillage, and did his utmost to restrain the
+excesses of the German soldiery.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Eugene meanwhile, having failed to prevent the junction
+of Tallard with Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, paid
+a hurried visit to Marlborough at his camp at Sandizell to
+concert operations against the now formidable enemy.
+Luckily, Prince Louis of Baden agreed to lay siege to
+Ingolstadt, and his colleagues were relieved of the presence
+of one whose captious temper was a continual stumbling-block.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During Eugene's absence news reached his camp that
+the enemy were hastening towards Lauingen with a design
+to cross the Danube.  Harry was despatched to Sandizell
+with this important information.  He met the prince on
+the road back; the latter immediately returned to
+Marlborough, who decided to reinforce him, and moved his
+own camp to Schönefelt, nearer the Danube, in order to be
+able to co-operate with him should occasion arise.  Late
+at night on Sunday, August 10, Eugene sent word to
+Marlborough that the enemy had crossed the river at
+Lauingen.  Marching out at once he joined the prince,
+and early on Tuesday morning they went towards
+Hochstadt, where they intended to make their camp.  On a
+hill two miles east of that town they caught sight of some
+squadrons of the enemy.  Not knowing whether this was
+merely a reconnoitring party or the advance-guard of the
+main force, the two generals mounted the church tower
+of Dapfheim, and through their glasses saw that the whole
+army of the enemy was in full march in their direction,
+and that a camp was being marked out on the very
+ground chosen by themselves.  They instantly determined
+to attack.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On the north bank of the Danube, at the head of a loop
+of the river, lies the little village of Blindheim, or, as it was
+spelt by Marlborough, Blenheim.  At the eastern extremity
+of the loop the Danube is joined by the brook Nebel,
+shallow and narrow, formed by many rivulets flowing from
+a range of wooded hills three miles to the north.  In those
+days the ground between these various branches was an
+undrained swamp.  The Nebel flows through two villages,
+Unterglau a mile above Blenheim, Oberglau three-quarters
+of a mile farther north.</span></p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 100%" id="figure-110">
+<span id="plan-of-the-battle-of-blenheim"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704." src="images/img-365.jpg" />
+<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin">
+<span class="italics">Battle of Blenheim, 13th August, 1704.</span></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Tuesday night was spent in preparation for the coming
+battle.  At three o'clock on Wednesday morning the
+confederate army moved slowly out.  A light mist hung over
+the ground, but after three hours' march they came in
+sight of the enemy, and the cannon opened fire while the
+troops deployed into line.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The enemy, west of the Nebel, were in two main divisions,
+the right under Tallard resting on Blenheim, the
+left under Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria higher up the
+brook, occupying the villages of Oberglau and Unterglau,
+the rear being in the village of Lutzingen.  On the
+confederate side, Eugene commanded the right, opposite
+Marsin, while Marlborough was opposed to Tallard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The confederate troops, composed of English, Germans,
+Dutch, and Danes, were all in the highest spirits.  The
+victory of the Schellenberg had heartened them; they had
+unbounded confidence in their generals.  As he mounted
+his horse that morning Marlborough said quietly, "This
+day I conquer or die," and officers and men alike caught
+the infection of his brave, calm spirit.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The ground on which Prince Eugene's division was to
+be posted was broken by branches of the Nebel and became
+uneven as it rose towards the hills.  For this reason
+it took the prince some time to get his men into position.
+Marlborough's force was earlier posted, and he occupied
+the interval until he should hear from Eugene that all
+was ready by having prayers read at the head of each
+regiment.  About twelve o'clock a message came from
+Eugene that he was prepared.  "Now, gentlemen, to your
+posts," cried Marlborough to the officers with whom he
+had been breakfasting.  Up sprang the big Lord Cutts,
+deputed to open the attack on Blenheim—a gallant leader,
+nicknamed Salamander from his careless daring under fire.
+Up sprang General Churchill, and galloped off towards
+Unterglau, already set on fire by the cannonade.  Up
+sprang General Lumley, hero of the cavalry charge at the
+Schellenberg.  From brigadier to bugler, every man was
+determined to "conquer or die".</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Blenheim was filled with French, seventeen battalions of
+Tallard's best troops hampering each other's movements
+there.  So strongly was the village defended that the
+English troops were twice compelled to retire.
+Marlborough's foreseeing eye marked the urgency of the
+moment.  The enemy must be prevented from pursuing
+their advantage.  In spite of artillery fire in flank and
+cavalry charges in front he got his horse across the stream
+and the intervening marshes.  Tallard was late in meeting
+the movement.  He allowed the first line of English to
+form up on his own side of the brook before he ordered
+a strenuous attack.  Then Marlborough reinforced his
+lines, and having assured himself that they could hold
+their own, galloped to the left to see how things were
+faring toward Blenheim.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile on the right Eugene had fought with varying
+success.  A dashing cavalry charge broke the enemy's
+front line, but from the second his horse recoiled, and he
+brought up his Prussian infantry to stem the tide.  At
+Oberglau also the Prince of Holstein's division was thrown
+into confusion by the gallant Irish brigade, which flung
+itself upon the Germans with the fierce valour for which
+these exiles were renowned.  Here, too, Marlborough's
+all-seeing eye marked the crisis.  Galloping to the point
+of danger, he ordered up battalions and squadrons that
+had not yet been engaged, and in his turn threw the Irish
+into confusion.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The summer afternoon was drawing on; for five hours
+the battle had raged, and neither side had yet gained a
+substantial advantage.  But soon after five, having seen
+all his cavalry across the Nebel, the duke rode along the
+front, and gave orders to sound the charge.  At the
+trumpets' blare 8000 horsemen, splendidly mounted, moved
+up the slope in two lines towards the enemy, first at a
+gentle trot, quickening their pace until it became a gallop.
+One slight check from the terrible fire of the French
+musketeers, then they swept forward irresistibly.  The
+enemy recoiled, broke, fell into disorder, and fled, the
+infantry towards Hochstadt, the cavalry towards
+Sondersheim, on the river bank.  Then was seen Tallard's fatal
+mistake in crowding so many men into the narrow streets
+of Blenheim.  Catching the panic from their flying
+comrades, they turned hither and thither, not knowing how
+to find safety.  Some plunged into the river, only to be
+borne away on its swift current and drowned.  Others
+sought to escape towards Hochstadt, but every avenue
+was blocked.  In rage and despair they maintained a
+stubborn fight until the evening dusk descended, and the
+hopelessness of their plight counselled surrender.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the head of his shouting cavalry Marlborough
+himself had chased thirty squadrons down the steep bank of
+the Danube to destruction.  He had but just returned
+when he was met by an aide-de-camp with a prisoner no
+less notable than Marshal Tallard himself.  The duke put
+him into his own coach, and sat down to pencil that famous
+note to his duchess which gave England the first tidings
+of this glorious victory.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The victorious army bivouacked on the field, taking
+possession of the enemy's standing tents, with a great
+store of vegetables and a hundred fat oxen ready skinned
+for the pot.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During this great action Harry had been hither and
+thither in all parts of the field, bearing Eugene's orders
+to his divisional commanders.  Of the details of the fight
+he saw little, but was well pleased at the close of the
+day when the prince thanked him in the presence of his
+staff, and invited him to his own supper table.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During the next few weeks the troops marched towards
+the Rhine, the duke's objective being Landau, which he
+hoped to take before the close of the campaign.  One
+afternoon Harry went on in advance with Sherebiah from
+Langenhandel to Weissembourg, to secure quarters for
+Prince Eugene.  His errand accomplished, he was sitting
+at dinner in the inn when through the open window came
+the sound of hubbub in the street.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Sherry?"  he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pears to be a crowd of Germans a-setten on to a
+wounded Frenchman, sir.  He have his arm strapped,
+and——why, sakes alive! 'tis black John Simmons hisself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" cried Harry, rising.  "Then the captain
+will be near at hand.  Out and bring the fellow in."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah issued forth and shouldered his way through
+the growing crowd.  When Simmons caught sight of him,
+his jaw dropped and he turned to make away; but Sherebiah
+was at his heels in a twinkling, and soon he dragged
+him through the throng and into the inn.  The man
+looked even more woebegone than when Harry had last
+seen him, and his drawn face betokened keen suffering.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Cotched again!" said Sherebiah.  "Stand there afore
+Master Harry and speak your mind."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How come you here, Simmons?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man explained that after the rout at the castle he
+had escaped with his master to the Elector's camp and
+been with the army at the battle of Blenheim.  He had
+ridden out of the fight with Aglionby, but being wounded
+had fallen from his horse and been callously left to his
+fate by the captain.  Contriving to evade capture, he
+had wandered from village to village, and, reaching
+Weissembourg, had been sheltered there by a cottager until
+all his money was gone.  Then he was turned out neck
+and crop, and was being hustled out of the village when
+Sherebiah intervened.  His wound had not been properly
+treated, and he was in a sorry plight.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry could not help pitying the poor wretch whose
+service had been so ill-requited by his master.  Properly
+he was a prisoner of war—one of the 13,000 who had
+fallen into the hands of the victors.  But he was a
+fellow-countryman after all, and possibly had been an honest
+fellow until he came under Aglionby's sinister influence.
+Harry had not the heart to let him go to his fate.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry, look to his arm," he said.  "Let us see what
+sort of a leech Jacob Spinney made of you.  Then give
+him some food and find him a lodging."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Several days passed, and Harry, in the bustle of camp
+life, had almost forgotten the incident, when one morning
+Simmons presented himself and asked to be allowed to
+speak a word.  His arm was nearly healed, and he looked
+a cleaner, trimmer fellow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Simmons!" said Harry, "you're better, I see.
+What have you got to say?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"First to thank you, sir, for your kindness, which I know
+I don't deserve.  Sherebiah Minshull has treated me well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad of that.  Now is there anything else I can
+do for you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been thinkin', these few days, sir, and ponderin'
+on my past life; and there's a thing I believe you ought
+to know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, speak up, man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis summat I heard pass between Cap'n Aglionby and
+the Frenchman, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That's enough: I'm not interested in the doings of
+your rascally employer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But you are, sir, unless I be much mistaken.  The
+matter concerns the French lady near Breda, and the
+young mistress—partickler the young mistress, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was now all attention.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak on then, and use few words."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Simmons then related that, some few days before the
+battle of Blenheim, Monsieur de Polignac had come secretly
+into the camp and paid a visit to Aglionby.  (Harry
+remembered the letter making the appointment he had
+found in the castle.)  The opening of the interview had
+been stormy; Aglionby had accused Polignac of being a
+party to the attempt on his life at Breda, and at first
+refused to accept his assurances that he knew nothing
+whatever of the matter.  But Polignac spoke him fairly,
+declaring that his connection with Mr. Berkeley had been
+limited to planning Aglionby's rescue from prison.  The
+Captain's suspicions being at last lulled, Polignac opened
+up the subject of his visit.  Of the remainder of the
+interview Simmons had but hazy ideas: he had listened
+through a hole in Aglionby's tent, and the conversation
+being conducted in low tones and in French, of which he
+had only a smattering, he had missed a good deal of it.
+But he had heard enough to know that the Mademoiselle
+of whom the two spoke was Mademoiselle de Vaudrey,
+and that Polignac was bargaining with Aglionby to aid
+him in an attempt to get possession of the young lady.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"One thing I heard plain, sir," said Simmons in
+conclusion, "and that was that the cap'n was to get a good
+bit o' gold when the Frenchman married the lady, and a
+good bit more when he came into the estates."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What estates?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That I can't tell you, sir; 'the estates' was all I
+heard—</span><em class="italics">terres</em><span> was the word as was used."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  And why do you betray your master?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir, he've led me a dog's life for years; holds
+over me that hangin' business on the old road; and then
+after I'd served him faithful leaves me to shift for myself
+with a bullet in my arm.  I don't owe him no thanks."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry stood in thought for a few moments.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a Londoner, I think, Simmons?" he said at length.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What trade were you bred to?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A joiner, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you'll promise me to go straight back to
+London and work at your trade, I'll contrive to send you
+down the Rhine with the prisoners, and give you a little
+money to start you."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank 'ee kindly, sir!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well.  Sherebiah shall take you to Hanau and
+see you safely lodged.  Remember, you've your character
+to build up afresh.  If you stick to your trade, and keep
+out of the way of folk who want to use you for dirty work,
+you may become a decent citizen yet."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"On my soul I'll try, sir.  'Tisn't every one would give
+a poor fellow a chance, and I thank 'ee true, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry dismissed the man in Sherebiah's care.  He was
+greatly disturbed by his news.  It was clear that Polignac,
+having failed to win Mademoiselle de Vaudrey by fair
+means, and by the attempt to bring pressure to bear, so
+happily frustrated by Mynheer Grootz, was now determined
+to resort to desperate measures.  Something must
+be done at once to put Madame de Vaudrey on her guard.
+He would have liked to convey the warning himself, but
+felt the impossibility of asking from Prince Eugene leave
+of absence for so long a journey until the campaign was
+ended.  The only other means open to him was to write.
+Couriers were constantly going backwards and forwards
+between the armies and the Hague and other towns; he
+might avail himself of one of these to send his urgent
+message.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry lost no time in putting his decision into effect.  He
+wrote both to Madame de Vaudrey and to Mynheer Grootz,
+telling them that Aglionby and Polignac were scheming
+to abduct Mademoiselle, and also that they were in league
+with the Jacobites in France and England.  This latter
+fact would give Grootz a free hand in dealing with them,
+even if he detected them in no overt act against
+Mademoiselle de Vaudrey.  It was two days before Harry could
+send off his letters, which for greater safety he entrusted
+to an official despatch-rider, by permission of Prince
+Eugene.  The post would take several days; it would be
+towards the end of the first week in October before a
+reply could be expected.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Time passed away, and Harry was anxiously waiting,
+when, two days before the earliest date on which a letter
+could be received from Grootz, he was unexpectedly sent
+by Prince Eugene on an urgent private errand to Vienna.
+He was accompanied by Sherebiah, now again his
+constant companion.  They made as much speed as possible,
+but nearly a month elapsed before Harry was able to
+report the success of his mission to the Prince, then in the
+confederate camp before Landau.  As soon as he had seen
+the prince, he enquired whether a letter had arrived for
+him during his absence, and felt a great sense of relief
+when a packet was given him addressed in Grootz's big
+business hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>But his feeling was changed to the keenest anxiety
+when he found that the letter, though written more than
+a week after the date at which Grootz might reasonably
+be supposed to have received his letter, made no reference
+to the news he had sent, and had clearly been despatched
+in entire ignorance of the threatening danger.  Long
+afterwards he learnt that the courier had been accidentally
+drowned in crossing a river at night, and his letters had
+been lost.  He dreaded to think what might have
+happened in the interval.  He wrote another urgent letter to
+Mynheer Grootz, and despatched it by a special messenger;
+but the bare possibility of a mishap alarmed him, and he
+could never put the subject from his thoughts.  He woke
+at night under the pressure of his anxiety; if only he
+could himself go to Lindendaal to see that all was safe!
+But while the siege was still being prosecuted, and the
+prince had constant need of his services, he could not
+bring himself to ask for leave.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His difficulty was solved for him by the prince himself.
+His evident preoccupation, and a slight mistake he made
+in noting down a message, attracted that astute
+gentleman's attention.  He spoke to Harry on the matter; by
+this time they were on such terms that Harry felt no
+difficulty in opening his mind; and he explained that
+having become aware of a plot likely to injure some
+friends of his, and fearing that his letter of warning had
+miscarried, he was in considerable anxiety on their behalf.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," said the prince.  "Who are these friends
+of yours?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A French refugee lady and her daughter, Monseigneur,
+who live near Breda."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  What is their name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"De Vaudrey, Monseigneur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they relatives of yours?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Monseigneur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere matter of friendship, eh?"  The prince's eyes
+twinkled.  "Now, my boy, confess: you are in love."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed, Monseigneur."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the symptoms are not unusual.  You ought
+to know best, of course; but in any case you had better
+get the matter off your mind.  This weary siege cannot
+last more than a few days longer; we hear that the enemy
+are on the point of surrender; we shall go into winter
+quarters immediately, I suppose, and I shall be able to
+dispense with your services until the spring.  Pack off
+to Breda and see your—friends, holding yourself in
+readiness, of course, to come back to me when summoned."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was too much pleased at the opportunity of assuring
+himself that all was well to think it necessary to make
+any protestation about his motives.  Thanking the prince,
+he finished off one or two small duties and went to arrange
+with Sherebiah for their journey.  Before he left he came
+across Fanshawe in camp, and, without disclosing his
+reasons, told him where he was going.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then will you do something for me?" asked Fanshawe
+eagerly.  "Will you carry a letter for me?  I love that
+girl, Harry.  I can't get over it.  I made a mistake last
+time.  I ought to have known that our English ways
+would not answer with French ladies.  I spoke to Adèle
+herself; I ought to have spoken to her mother.  If you
+will take it, I will write a letter to Madame de Vaudrey
+asking permission to pay my addresses to her daughter;
+that may give me a chance; don't you think so, Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," said Harry.  He felt strangely
+unsympathetic with Fanshawe at that moment.  "I will
+take your letter if you are not long about it: I ride for
+Maintz to-night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, old fellow!  Wait till you're in love; then
+you'll know how a fellow feels; I shall have no peace of
+mind till I know my fate."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few hours after this, Harry left the camp with
+Sherebiah, carrying the letter on which Fanshawe's fate
+depended.  To save time he had decided to take boat
+at Maintz, and sail night and day down the Rhine.  Ten
+hours later he had bought a big boat, engaged a man
+who knew the river, and begun his journey.  With the
+aid of the stream and oars, and proceeding continuously,
+he could save a day or two on the land journey.  His plan
+was to engage fresh crews at every important stopping-place,
+so as to have relays of sturdy oarsmen and to get
+out of them all the work of which they were capable.
+The Germans were naturally not so eager as himself,
+and grumbled a good deal at the exertions demanded of
+them.  "Unerhört! unerhört!" was the exclamation he
+frequently heard from their lips.  But he never relaxed
+his determination, and found liberal pay a ready stimulus.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, without mitigation of pace, the boat rushed down
+the river.  As one after another the river-side towns were
+passed, Harry felt a satisfaction mingled with an
+impatience too great to allow of his taking much interest in
+the scenes.  The ugly, dirty garrison town of St. Goar,
+the fortress of Hesse-Rheinfels, the famous Rat tower of
+the Hatto legend, Coblentz, Cologne, Düsseldorf, were
+only so many stages of his uneventful journey.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-wages-of-sin"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Wages of Sin</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Promenade à Berlin—A Sudden Stop—Grootz Chuckles—Place
+aux Dames—The Last Two Miles—Polignac Pays the
+Penalty—Zo!</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>About four o'clock on a November afternoon, fine for
+the time of year, two horsemen rode up to the inn at
+Eyndhoven.  Huge clouds of steam rose from their horses
+into the cold air; the panting of the beasts told of a forced
+pace.  Dismounting, the riders called for refreshment and
+a change of horses: they were anxious to push on at once.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When their hasty meal was finished, while the master
+was paying the bill, the man went into the inn yard and
+tried to enter into conversation with a servant standing
+there in charge of a large empty travelling carriage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose carriage is that?" he asked.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac's," was the surly answer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man started slightly, but no one would have
+suspected anything but pure curiosity from the tone of his
+next question.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it waiting for?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The reply was still more surly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The roads will be heavy for travelling.  Bad enough
+for horsemen, worse for coaches.  Maybe the gentleman is
+not going far?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe not."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The Breda road?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What is that to you?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No offence, comrade.  A man may ask a question, to
+pass the time.  Bid you good-day!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing that he was unlikely to get any further information
+he sauntered off, but disappeared as quickly as
+possible into the inn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mounseer's coach is in yard, sir," he said quietly,
+"and a-waiten for Mounseer."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  Are we in time, Sherry?  Call the ostler."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>When the man appeared, Harry slipt a coin into his
+hand.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur de Polignac is making a journey.  Tell me
+all you know about it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The man replied that the coach had been sent to the inn
+two days before.  Monsieur de Polignac was expected at
+any moment.  He had recently sold his estate and was
+leaving for Germany.  It was thought that he wished
+to take his departure quietly, for he had always been
+unpopular with his tenants, and he ran the risk of a
+hostile demonstration if the time of his setting out were
+known.  He probably intended to slip secretly away from
+his house and make his real start from Eyndhoven.  A
+large quantity of his baggage had passed through the
+town a few days before; but, strangely enough, a carter
+coming in had reported that Monsieur's wagons were
+going south, which was certainly not towards Berlin,
+the alleged destination.  On the road they had taken
+there was great danger of their falling into the hands of
+the French, for it was not more than five or six leagues
+from Marshal Villeroy's lines, and Monsieur as a Huguenot
+refugee would meet with scant consideration from his
+countrymen.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Has Monsieur de Polignac himself been to Eyndhoven
+lately?" asked Harry.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Mynheer; the arrangements were made for him
+by an English officer who fought at Blenheim, where the
+great duke gave the French such a drubbing a few months
+back.  He was a masterful man; gave orders that the
+horses were to be ready at a moment's notice and to be
+kept in good condition.  Only this morning a messenger
+came with instructions for the coach to be ready by eight
+o'clock to-night, with a stock of wine and provisions which
+Monsieur will take with him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was perturbed at this news.  It was clear that
+Polignac intended to depart in haste; but whether on
+political grounds, having found his character as spy
+detected, or in pursuance of the plot hinted at by
+Simmons, it was impossible to know.  If the latter, there
+was certainly not a moment to lose, and it behoved to
+push on with all speed to Lindendaal.  Fresh horses had
+been waiting for some minutes.  Harry and Sherebiah
+were soon in the saddle, and set off at a gallop along
+the miry road, into the gathering night.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Some hours previously a traveller approaching Lindendaal
+from the opposite direction had passed through Breda.
+He had found it impossible there to get a change of team
+for his coach; all the horses in the town were out,
+conveying to their homes the gentry of the countryside who had
+come into Breda for a grand ball given the night before by
+the officers of the garrison, the finale of a week of
+entertainments.  Not even Mynheer Grootz's liberal offers
+sufficed to secure a team at once.  The motive of his
+journey was clearly urgent, for instead of waiting a few
+hours until some of the hacks returned, he pushed on at
+once with his tired animals to Tilburg, four leagues
+farther on the road.  There he succeeded in hiring fresh
+horses, and without delay continued his journey.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He was himself very much fatigued, having risen from
+a sick bed on receiving the letter sent him by Harry from
+Landau.  As he drew out of Oerschot, where the team
+was again changed, he pulled up the wooden slat blinds,
+and settled himself in the corner of his seat for a short
+nap.  So much exhausted was he that he was still sound
+asleep when, nearly two hours later, the coach reached
+the end of the park wall of Lindendaal.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was now growing dark.  All at once Grootz was
+roused from sleep by the stopping of the coach.  In his
+half-awake condition he thought that he was at his
+journey's end, and was rising to lower the blinds when there
+was a shout and the report of a pistol-shot.  Wide-awake
+in an instant he groped in the darkness for his own pistol.
+But just as he laid his hand upon it the coach jolted on
+again, throwing him back into his seat.  It was rattling
+and swaying from side to side, the horses being urged
+to their utmost speed.  His first impulse was to let down
+the blinds and endeavour to get a shot at one of the men
+who had waylaid him.  Then he hesitated; a sudden
+thought had occurred to him; he gave a quiet chuckle,
+and peeped through the slats of the blinds, first on one
+side, then on the other.  He could just see that a
+horseman was riding at each side of the carriage, and through
+the small window at the back he saw a third following.
+He smiled grimly, and, holding his pistol ready, waited
+for what he suspected must happen before long.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>His own postilion, he guessed, had been killed or
+wounded by the pistol-shot he had heard, and the coach
+was now driven by a stranger.  He was thus one against
+four.  He might shoot one of them, but would clearly be
+at the mercy of the three others.  It was a lonely road;
+there was nothing for the present to be gained by
+resistance, and besides, he had a further reason for biding
+his time.  Delay would not worsen his own situation;
+while if his suspicions were correct the longer he remained
+passive the better his purpose would be served.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>After a headlong, rattling, bumping flight of about
+two miles, as it seemed to Grootz, he heard the horseman
+on his right shout an order to the postilion.  The
+coach was pulled up; the horseman threw himself from
+the saddle, and wrenching open the door peered in.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret, Madame, the necessity——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He started back, for in the waning light he had just
+become aware that there was but one figure in the
+carriage, and that clearly the figure of a man.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Triché, morbleu!" he cried in fury.  "Someone shall
+pay for this.  Come out, or I will empty this pistol into
+you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The only answer was the click of a pistol within the
+coach, and a flash from the corner.  Grootz's weapon
+had missed fire.  Whipping his own pistol from his belt
+Polignac fired; and the Dutchman fell back, hit in the
+shoulder.  With a cry to his companions Polignac sprang
+on his horse, and galloped furiously back along the road
+he had come, the other two horsemen hard at his heels.
+Immediately afterwards the postilion cut the traces and
+set off in haste after his employer, leaving Grootz, the
+coach, and one horse to themselves.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Five minutes later, from the Eyndhoven direction, up rode
+two horsemen at speed.  It was now almost totally dark;
+the coach could barely be discerned in the middle of the
+road, and Harry, who was foremost, pulled up only just in
+time to save his horse's knees.  In a moment he was out of
+the saddle; Sherebiah was by his side, and while the man
+held the horses, Harry, anxiety tearing at his heart, looked
+into the coach.  There was a huddled heap upon the floor.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Steel and tinder!" he cried to Sherebiah.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A light was struck.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens! it is Mynheer Grootz."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He bent down and touched the wounded man's hand,
+fearing he might be already dead.  The touch revived
+Grootz from his swoon.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"On to Lindendaal!" he said faintly and brokenly.
+"Leave me!  Ladies in danger.  Take care.  Desperate
+men: four; at once!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Loth as Harry was to leave his friend in so ill a plight,
+the imminence of the peril to which the ladies were exposed
+was predominant.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I will send a man back to you, Mynheer," he said.
+"Sherebiah, we must hasten."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The short halt had given the horses time to recover
+their wind.  They had not travelled far, nor had they far
+to go.  The two sprang to their saddles, and as they rode
+off into the darkness there was a look on Harry's face that
+boded ill for Polignac or any of his party.  Never before,
+even when carried bound on board the </span><em class="italics">Merry Maid</em><span>, even
+when his own life had been attempted, had he felt the
+overmastering desire for vengeance that burnt within him
+now.  The sight of his friend and benefactor wounded and
+helpless had quickened his indignation with Polignac and
+his crew into a fury of resentment, and at the back of his
+consciousness there was another and a subtler feeling
+which he did not pause to analyse.  With eyes staring
+into the distance, ears strained to catch the slightest
+sound, every sense on the alert, he led the way over the
+heavy miry road, Sherebiah a short length behind.  If
+anyone could have seen the riders' faces he would have
+been struck by the contrast between their expressions.
+Harry's was grim and tense with white rage; Sherebiah's
+round cheeks wore their settled look of cheerful
+placidity—the unruffled carelessness of a man of peace.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was a furious gallop, over the two miles from the
+halted coach to the gates of Lindendaal.  Harry's eager
+eyes at length caught a twinkle of light ahead to the right
+of the road.  A moment later the faint sound of a shout
+came down the wind, then the crack of a pistol-shot.
+Digging his spurs into his steed's heaving flanks he drew his
+sword; it was a matter of seconds now.  He flew past
+the ruined barn, standing bare and black on the right;
+and there, before him on the road, shone a light, from a
+carriage lamp as he supposed.  Now mingled with shouts
+and oaths he heard the clash of steel; in a moment there
+loomed up before him at the entrance to the balustraded
+avenue a dark still mass, and in the yellow glare of the
+lamp he perceived two men on foot fighting desperately.
+He was still some yards away when he saw the man
+farthest from him shorten his sword and run his opponent
+through the body, then with lightning speed prepare to
+meet the horseman, whether friend or foe, whose coming
+the ring of hoofs had announced.  As he dashed forward,
+Harry recognized in the sinister features and the wry mouth
+the evil face of Polignac.  Leaning low over his horse's
+neck he made a sweeping blow with his heavy cavalry
+sabre that would have cut the Frenchman's spare frame
+into halves had he not with rare presence of mind sunk on
+one knee and allowed the blade to swish harmlessly over
+his head.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was carried on for some yards before he could
+check the impetus of his horse, and then he found himself
+in the thick of a fight in which he could distinguish neither
+friend nor foe.  A fierce oath on his right, however,
+proclaimed the identity of one of the group, and, turning, he
+saw the bulky form of Captain Aglionby on horseback
+outlined against the light from the distant house.  Leaving
+Polignac for the moment Harry made straight for his elder
+enemy, who was wheeling to deal with the new-comer.  It
+was no moment for nice sword-play on either side; cut
+and thrust, lunge and parry—thus the two engaged in
+the dark.  Blade clashed on blade, horse pressed against
+horse, their hoofs struck sparks; nothing to choose
+between the combatants except that Aglionby was between
+Harry and the light.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the captain made a supreme effort to quell his
+assailant by main force for good and all.  Rising in his
+saddle, he brought his sword down with the full weight of
+his arm.  But, thanks to the friendly light from Lindendaal,
+Harry saw the movement in time.  Parrying the swashing
+blow with ease, he replied with a thrust that tumbled the
+captain groaning from his saddle.  The horse plunged and
+galloped madly into the night.  Harry did not wait to
+discover the full effect of his blow, but wheeled round to find
+Polignac, the duel on his left having terminated in the
+flight of one of the parties and pursuit by the other.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment of wheeling he heard the voice of
+Sherebiah at his elbow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold, sir!  'Tis done.  Mounseer ha' paid his score."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You have killed him?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My sword went through un.  He be on ground: no
+risin' for he."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Then secure Aglionby.  He fell from his horse a few
+yards up the road."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He himself sprang from the saddle and ran to the door
+of the coach.  Wrenching it open, he saw by the light of
+the lamp Adèle de Vaudrey erect on the seat, supporting
+the unconscious form of her mother.  The girl's cheeks
+were the colour of death; her lips were ashen; upon her
+face was the fixed look of resigned despair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle," cried Harry breathlessly, "all is well.
+You are safe."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A sob broke from the girl's dry lips; tears welled in
+her eyes.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother has swooned," she said in a whisper.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry darted to the canal side, stuck his handkerchief
+on the point of his sword and let it down to the water,
+returning with it dripping wet to the coach.  Bathing the
+lady's temples they revived her, and Adèle whispered the
+news that they were safe.  Madame's nerves were quite
+unstrung; incapable of heeding what was said to her she
+wept and laughed alternately, to Harry's great alarm.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We must get her home," said Adèle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I will find a man to lead the coach.  You will
+not mind my going: Mynheer Grootz is wounded two
+miles away."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Monsieur Harry, go then at once.  I can take care
+of Mother."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry ran back to the road to find Sherebiah, who in
+his absence had made an examination of the ground with
+the aid of the carriage lamp.  Polignac was stone dead;
+his body lay at the very brink of the canal.  There was no
+sign of Aglionby or of the other two men, though traces
+of blood were found on the spot where the captain had
+fallen.  Of the house party two men were badly wounded;
+these Harry despatched to the house for ministration while
+himself with Sherebiah hurried back at full speed to
+Mynheer Grootz.  The coach stood undisturbed where
+they had left it.  Grootz lay on the seat, conscious but
+very weak.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" he said, as they appeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thank God!" replied Harry.  "The ladies are
+safe, Polignac is dead, Aglionby and the rest have fled."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Quite content, the merchant said no more.  He was
+taken at a walking pace to Lindendaal.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="a-bundle-of-letters"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Bundle of Letters</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Jealousy—Hard Facts—A Special Plea—Family
+History—Brother and Sister—Marriage Lines—A
+Fair Claimant—Air Castles</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Some hours later, when Madame de Vaudrey had been
+composed to sleep, and the three patients made as
+comfortable as possible pending the arrival of the doctor, who
+had been summoned from the village, Adèle left her
+mother's bed-side and joined Harry in the dining-room.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I must thank you," she said, advancing to him with
+outstretched hands.  "We have always to thank you.  It
+seems to be fated that you should save us from that
+bad man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"He will trouble you no more, Mademoiselle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle looked a question.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he is dead."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The girl shuddered, and looked involuntarily towards
+the sword at Harry's side.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it was not I; it was my man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a look of relief in Adèle's face.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How thankful to God we must be that you came in
+time, Monsieur!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Madame not get my letter?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you write a letter?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I learnt some time ago that this plot was hatching,
+and I wrote twice.  The first letter, I know, must have
+miscarried, but the second—it should have reached you,
+for I am sure Mynheer Grootz must have received a letter
+written at the same time.  That is why he is here now."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"We have been away from home: stay, Monsieur, I will
+enquire."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She soon returned with the letter unopened.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It came three days ago," she said.  "We have been
+for a week in Breda; there were festivities given by the
+officers of the garrison, and the servants did not think
+to send the letter, knowing that we should soon return.
+M. de——he must have found out the time of our
+departure, and so planned to waylay us.  But we were late
+in starting; Mother was fatigued; and I see how it
+happened.  Mynheer Grootz's coach was taken for ours; when
+the—the man found that it was not, he thought it had
+been sent on in front to deceive him.  Oh, Monsieur Harry,
+but for your letter to Mynheer Grootz, and your coming so
+soon yourself——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Think no more of it, Mademoiselle.  I cannot say how
+glad I am that I happened to be able to serve you.
+Forgive me; you are worn out; it will not do to have another
+invalid, you know——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Adèle smiled in answer.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I will go to bed," she said, "and I do thank you
+for Mother and myself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She clasped his hands again, then ran from the room.
+Harry had never seen her so much moved.  Hitherto she
+had always been so cold, so reserved, seeming to grudge
+the few words that courtesy demanded.  Even when
+something claimed her active help, as in the stratagem
+by which Lindendaal had been saved from the raiders
+nearly eighteen months before, she had acted, indeed,
+with decision and courage, as a good comrade, but had
+at once relapsed into her former attitude of aloofness,
+almost disdain.  With Fanshawe, on the contrary, she
+had been frank and gay, ready with quip and jest, gently
+correcting his French, merrily laughing at her own
+attempts to speak English, never wearying of accompanying
+on the harpsichord his west-country songs, which she
+quickly picked up by ear.  Fanshawe was thoroughly in
+love with her—and Harry remembered with a pang that
+he bore a letter from Fanshawe to her mother, once more
+urging his suit.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound him!" he thought, and, his hands tight
+clasped behind him, he strode up and down the room
+with compressed lips and lowering brow.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He had no doubt now of the relationship in which he
+stood to Fanshawe; he was both his rival and friend.
+He tried to face the situation calmly.  Fanshawe was a
+good fellow, an officer in the English army, and heir to
+a baronetcy and a fine estate.  He could sell out at any
+moment, and doubtless enjoy by the liberality of his father
+an income sufficient to maintain a wife in something more
+than comfort.  It gave Harry a pang to contrast his own
+position.  He had no property, no family influence, nothing
+beyond his pay and the income so generously allowed by
+Mynheer Grootz.  True, he was now in the service of
+Prince Eugene, and the circumstances in which he had
+joined the Austrian service gave him a good prospect of
+ultimate advancement; but it might be many years before
+he could venture to ask a lady to share his fortunes.
+Besides, if Mademoiselle de Vaudrey was indeed heiress
+to an estate, as Simmons had reported, a poor man could
+not seek her hand without incurring the suspicion of being
+a fortune-hunter: the mere suggestion brought a hot flush
+to Harry's cheeks.  No; he could but stand aside.
+Fanshawe had failed once; he might yet succeed; and if it
+should so turn out, Harry could but wish his friend joy
+and go his way.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Heigh ho!  Some fellows are lucky!" he thought, and,
+heaving a tremendous sigh, he went to bed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A good night's rest, and the knowledge that Polignac
+could never disturb her again, cured Madame de Vaudrey's
+hysteria, and she came down next morning somewhat pale,
+but in her usual health.  After breakfast Harry took the
+first opportunity of finding his hostess alone, to deliver
+Fanshawe's letter.  She smiled as she took it and noticed
+the handwriting.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"From that dear Monsieur Fanshawe, is it not?" she said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Madame."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What can he have to write about, I wonder?  Do you
+know, Harry?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fanshawe told me, and—well, he asked me—that is,
+I promised to put in a word for him."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Vraiment!  Then I think I guess the subject of his
+letter.  Come, mon ami, what have you to say for him, then?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The comtesse watched Harry with a twinkle of enjoyment.
+Her mother's eye had penetrated the state of the
+case.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Godfrey is a good fellow, Madame; amiable—you know
+that; he will be rich some day; he—sings a good song;
+he—in short, Madame, he is very fond of Mademoiselle,
+and—and——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And would make a good husband, you think?  Well,
+my dear Harry, I shall tell Adèle that he has written to
+me, and repeat what you have said in his behalf; but you
+know her: she has a mind of her own; and I can only give
+her my advice."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And she left Harry in a tormenting perplexity as to what
+her advice would be.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was a week or two before Mynheer Grootz was well
+enough to leave his room, and during those days his
+kind attendants were careful to avoid all but the most
+necessary references to what had happened.  He was told
+that Polignac was dead and the hue and cry was out after
+Aglionby, and his convalescence was not retarded by any
+fears on the ladies' behalf.  One morning, when the doctor
+allowed him to come downstairs, he sent Harry to find
+Madame de Vaudrey.  It was time, he said, that the
+motive of Polignac's recent attempt should be seriously
+considered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame," he said in French, when with Harry they
+were closeted in the reception-room, "it has not yet been
+told you, but we have reason to believe that Polignac
+urged his suit upon Adèle because he had information that
+she is heiress to some estates."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"As she is—heiress to Lindendaal."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but the estates in question must be of greater
+value.  Your little estate here is not of so much worth
+as to account for Polignac promising large sums to
+Aglionby, first on his marriage with Adèle, secondly on her
+succession to her property.  Tell me, Madame, know you
+of anything that could give colour to the beliefs of these
+wretches?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, my friend.  My husband, as you know well,
+was a refugee, an exile: his family estates in France were
+confiscated long ago.  As for me, I had nothing but my
+poor little dowry.  No relatives of mine are owners of
+estates."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But on Monsieur le Comte's side: his mother: she
+was an Englishwoman, I believe?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes.  I know little of her; she died very soon after
+the birth of her only child, my dear husband."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What was her name?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not remember.  Certainly I have heard it, but
+it is many years ago, and English names are so difficult
+to keep in mind."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But Monsieur le Comte—had he not some souvenir of
+his mother?—some portrait, or heirloom, or family papers?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw any.  But I have upstairs a box in which
+I treasure many little things that were his: perhaps you
+would like to see it?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly.  It would be as well."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Madame de Vaudrey sent a servant to a private room
+in the turret, whence he returned presently with a
+leather-covered brass-studded box.  After some search the key
+was discovered, the box was opened, and the comtesse
+took out, one after another, various memorials of her
+dead husband.  Among them was a bundle of papers
+tied up with ribbon; this she laid with trembling hands
+before her friend.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You permit me, Madame?" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded through her tears.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz untied the ribbon, and unfolded the topmost
+paper.  A cursory glance showed that it threw no light
+on the subject all had at heart.  Several other papers
+were examined with a like result; then, nearly at the
+bottom of the bundle, Grootz came upon a smaller packet
+separately tied.  The outer wrapper bore, in a faded,
+delicate handwriting, the words: "Dernières letters de la
+famille de feu ma chère femme".  Harry got up and leant
+towards him in some excitement.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait, my son," said Grootz; "let us proceed with
+quietness."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the topmost letter, and read it slowly through.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It tells us nothing," he said.  "It begins 'My dear
+sister', and ends 'Eustace'.  We go to the next."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Unfolding this, he saw at the top the date June 12, 1659,
+and an address in London.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This is in the same hand," he said.  "It is cramped;
+Harry, your eyes are young; read it, my boy, aloud."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry took the letter and read:</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"MY DEARE SISTER,</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"It will please you to heare the Affaire goes according to
+our hopes.  The people are well dispos'd to the Gentleman you
+wot of, &amp; the rule of the Saintes is abhorr'd of the moste.  But
+businesse of State holds lesse in your Estimation than the fortunes
+of your brother, and I have a peece of Newes that will put your
+gentle heart all in a Flutter.  What do 'ee think, sweete?  You
+never had a sister: will you thanke me if I give you one?
+There! not to keepe you on tenterhooks, I designe—now is yr heart
+going pit-a-pat—to wed: ay, Mary, your brother has met his
+fate.  This daye weeke the Knot is to be ty'd.  I knowe the
+questions that at this Newes flocke into your mind: is she black
+or faire, tall or short, of court or cottage?  I am not carefull to
+answer; you shall love her, my sweet; 'tis the fairest, dearest
+ladie lucky man ever wonne, yonge, freshe, winsome as you could
+wishe.  I dare not, as you may beleeve, wed in my owne name;
+'tis too perilous as yet, my Businesse being what it is; indeede,
+Lucy herselfe knows not of my family, for being so yonge and
+simple, she might let fall in an unwatch'd moment what might
+bring me to the block.  She shall knowe all in due season.  I
+have not open'd my Designe to our brother, for in truthe I find no
+reason to truste him; his warm professions of Zeale for us seeme
+to me but Flams.  I feare he has play'd throughout a Double
+Game.  He stands exceeding well with the Godly Partie, &amp;
+having been at Paines to enquire thro' a sure friend I can
+heare of nothing done in our behalfe, but rather of endeavors
+to feather his owne nest.  But enough of that; if our hopes are
+crown'd, as praye God they may be speedilie, Nicolas will
+have——"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry paused as he read the name.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>——"Nicolas will have no choice but to quitte the Hall, and
+make what Profitte he may of his owne farmes.  Ask in yr prayers
+that the Happie Daie be hasten'd.  And now no more from your
+righte loving Brother EUSTACE."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Harry laid the letter down, and looked at Mynheer
+Grootz.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you pause?" asked the Dutchman.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas a thought I had, Mynheer.  It may be vain.
+Before I say more, will you look at the next paper?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hé!" exclaimed Madame de Vaudrey, "I am
+becoming curious."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mynheer Grootz with the same imperturbable calm
+unfolded the next paper of the bundle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This," he said, scanning it over his spectacles, "is
+not a letter; it is a document.  It records the marriage,
+in the Huguenot church in Paris, on May 2, 1658, of
+Louis Marie Honoré, Comte de Vaudrey, aged 34, with
+Mary Berkeley,"—he pronounced the name in three
+syllables, foreign fashion—"aged 22, daughter of John
+Berkeley Esquire of Winton Hall, in the county of
+Wiltshire, England."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis found!" cried Harry, springing up in excitement.
+"We call the name Barkley in England; Madame, Monsieur
+le Comte was the son of Mr. Berkeley's sister; he
+is the squire of my own village Winton St. Mary; without
+a doubt it is his estates to which Mademoiselle is heiress.
+What a discovery we have made!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay, Harry," said Mynheer Grootz quietly; "did you
+not tell me that your squire has a son?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, but now I remember: at home I have heard
+it said that Mr. Berkeley was lord of the manor only by
+default of other heirs: yes, it comes back to me now:
+the villagers did not like him; they grudged him his
+estate; he was stepson of the former squire, and
+step-brother of the lady who became Comtesse de Vaudrey."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Still I do not understand.  The lady had a brother—the
+gentleman whose name was Eustace; being employed
+in state business, to do with the restoration of your King
+Charles, I think, he was doubtless the elder of the two:
+he would be his father's heir, and his children after him.
+The letter, you see, announces his approaching marriage."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right, Mynheer.  I heard him talked of, too;
+he was killed in a fray with highwaymen on the Dover
+road, when he was returning from France, after King
+Charles came back, to claim his estates.  Yes, the squire's
+family history is well known in the village; but I never
+heard of a Mistress Eustace Berkeley; perhaps the
+marriage did not take place after all."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It would seem so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be so," cried Harry.  "Do you not now see
+Captain Aglionby's part?  When he stayed with you,
+Madame, six years ago, he must have discovered Monsieur
+le Comte's relationship with Mr. Berkeley; that explains
+his hold over the squire; it explains also the scheme
+arranged between him and Monsieur de Polignac.  Indeed,
+it is clear as daylight: the captain bled Mr. Berkeley on
+pretence of keeping his secret; and he sold that secret
+to Polignac."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The odious man!" exclaimed Madame de Vaudrey,
+who sat in a state of perfect amazement as link after link
+was added to the chain.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A very villain!" said Grootz, smiting the table.
+"Madame, it appears that Adèle is indeed the rightful
+owner of the estates now held by this miscreant Berkeley,
+and I, Jan Grootz, will make it my business, as soon as I
+am recovered, to see that right is done."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is to Harry that we owe it all!  Oh, my dear
+Harry, Adèle shall thank you!  If only my dear husband
+could have lived to bless you too!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo!" exclaimed Grootz.  "But, Madame, I have a
+thing to say.  Adèle shall thank Harry; yes; but I say
+tell her nothing until I have been to London, and with
+the aid of English law have overthrown the villain
+Berkeley.  It will be best; yes, it will be best."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, my friend.  Dear Adèle! to think of her as
+lady of an English manor!  She has thought much of her
+English grandmother: she will love to live in England;
+I have no English blood in me, and I dread the sea; but
+I must live with her, of course I must."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz compressed his lips.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Il ne faut pas vendre la peau de l'ours avant de l'avoir
+tué," he said sententiously.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="the-new-squire"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The New Squire</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Jonahs—Step-brothers—Whose Gain?—The Female Line—The
+End of the Story—Treason—The Fleet—In Italy with
+Eugene—Home—Adèle Studies Geography—Lady
+Bountiful—Minshull Remembers—A Warning from
+Mr. Tape—Mr. Tape at Hungerford—Exit Harry
+Rochester—At the Gate—A Royal Feast—What's in a
+Name?—A Rustic Moralist—Wedding Bells</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>Giles Appleyard, giving a flick to the off leader, scraped
+his well-rasped chin over the stiff collar of his coat and
+addressed the outside passenger who had just mounted
+his coach at Basingstoke.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Willum Nokes," he said, "'tis many a long
+day since I set eyes on your noble frame.  How's the
+wicked world sarven 'ee, Willum?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Fairish, Giles coachman, on'y fairish.  A've never bin
+the same man since that tarrible day when John Simmons
+gi' me the go-by.  Ay, I were constable then, a-sarven the
+Queen and Sir Godfrey, and wi' the bodies of all the souls
+in Winton Simmary under me.  Now I be on'y parish
+beadle at Basingstoke, sarvant to pa'son, and rulen over
+none but the misbehaven childer in church."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He sighed and shook his head.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, and th' on'y thing as keeps me above ground is a
+journey once a year to th' old place, where I wanders round
+a-thinken deep things o' the noble line o' life as used
+to be."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, poor soul, 'ee did truly make a gashly fool o' yerself
+that day, Willum.  Well, better a live fool than a dead
+'oss, as you med say."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An' yerself, Giles—you looks hale an' hearty as ever I
+seed 'ee."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Willum, I goos up an' down the world rain or
+shine, merry as a grig."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee must see a powerful deal o' life, Giles; all sarts an'
+perditions o' men, as pa'son sings in church.  Who med be
+your insides to-day, if I med axe so homely a quest'on?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Only two to-day, Willum.  There be little travellen
+for a week or two arter Christmas.  One on 'em be a Dutch
+skipper; I mind I carried un once afore; ay, 'twas the
+same day as young pa'son Rochester and Sherry Minshull
+rode a-top, all agwine to Lun'on.  Young pa'son be now a
+sojer, so 'tis said, an' hob-a-nob wi' the mighty o' the earth.
+The way o' the world, Willum; some goos up, like young
+pa'son; some goos down, like Willum Nokes; some goos
+steady, like Giles Appleyard; eh, soul?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis constables goos down, a' b'lieve.  But who
+be your other inside, coachman?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no one an't telled me, but I'd take my affidavy
+afore any justice o' peace 'tis a limb o' the law.  I knows
+they sart.  They ought to pay double; for why? 'cause
+bean't safe to carry; last time I carried a lawyer fore off
+wheel broke as we trundled through Winterslow.  When
+I seed this chap at Angel and Crown this marnen, says I
+to myself, 'Zooks!' says I, 'what poor mortal soul be
+agwine to suffer now?'"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>For the rest of the journey coachman and passenger
+exchanged gossip on their common acquaintances.  William
+Nokes alighted at the Queen's Head, at Winton St. Mary,
+and shook his head in sympathy with Mistress Joplady
+when he saw the two inside passengers descend from the
+coach and enter the inn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"One a furrener, t'other a lawyer!" he muttered.  "Ah! what
+tarrible things some poor souls ha' got to putt up wi'!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Joplady, however, welcomed both her guests
+with her wonted heartiness, and with her own hands plied
+the warming-pan for their beds.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At ten o'clock next morning the two strangers left the
+inn together.  One of them carried a small portfolio.
+They went through the village, across the common, and,
+entering the park gates of Winton Hall, walked up the
+long drive to the porch and asked whether Mr. Berkeley
+was at home.  After a few minutes' delay they were invited
+to step in, and conducted to a little room in the turret,
+where they found the squire in cassock and skull-cap,
+warming his withered hands at the fire.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Berkeley?" said the elder of the two.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my name.  What is your business?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My name, sir, Jan Grootz.  My friend Mr. Swettenham
+Tape, of Lincoln's Inn."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You will permit me to take a chair; dank you!  And
+my friend Mr. Tape; dank you!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>At the mention of his name, Mr. Berkeley flashed a
+shrewd glance under his bushy white eyebrows at the
+Dutchman, then gripped the arms of his chair, and waited.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Berkeley, my business will not hold you long.
+You will pardon if I begin at de beginning and tell you
+a little history?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The squire kept his eyes fixed on his visitor, but said
+nothing.  Taking his silence as permission to proceed,
+Grootz settled himself in his chair, with his plump right
+hand ready to punctuate his sentences.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dis history dat I tell you, sir, I hope you will find it
+interesting.  It is ver much about yourself; you are old
+man, but of dose old men, pardon me, who regard
+demselves as de most interesting subjeck in de world; zo!
+De history begin long ago; zixty-vive year indeed, when
+your shadow first zink over dis place."  Grootz's hand
+made a comprehensive sweep.  "You were den Nicolas
+Heller, an eleven-year boy; your moder, a widow, she had
+married Mr. John Berkeley, a widower, wid two children,
+one"—here the forefinger wagged—"Eustace Berkeley, a
+nine-year boy; de oder, Mary, a child four year.  On your
+moder Mr. Berkeley settle de farms of—of——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Winton Chase and Odbury," said Mr. Swettenham
+Tape, speaking for the first time.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo; de farms of Winton Chase and Odbury; you took
+de name Berkeley, and after your moder dese farms should
+become yours.  Dree years go, your moder die; Mr. John
+Berkeley is again a widower, and never marry no more.
+War had broke out, he take part wid de king and fight
+in de vield, your step-broder alzo whenever he is of age
+to bear arms.  But Nicolas, poor boy! is not strong, he
+is always at home to care for de estates; besides, he
+do not love de king; no, Nicolas never love nobody—nobody
+but himself."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz paused and bent a little forward in his chair; the
+squire had not moved a muscle.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"De king is killed, Oliver Cromwell is ruler in de
+land, and after de battle of Worcester, Mr. John Berkeley,
+his son and daughter, go for safety to France.  But
+Nicolas—he find dat he is a Puritan, a saint in heart; he
+give money—it was not his to give—to de Parliament side,
+and he speak of his stepfader—of de man, mark you, to
+whom he owe everyding—as a traitor, a malignant.  At
+same time he write letters to de traitor in France telling
+how he work to keep his estate for him, if chance come he
+zall return and enjoy his own.  How kind is Nicolas! zo!</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Time flows; de chance come; King Charles wears
+his fader's crown, but Mr. John Berkeley is not alive
+to return alzo.  In 1658 he die.  But his son, Nicolas'
+stepbroder Eustace, what of him?  In June 1660 he come
+back to claim his inheritance, but he never see his home.
+No, on de road he is set upon and murdered."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Still the old man sat rigid in grim silence.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"De murder of Eustace Berkeley, whom do it profit?
+De men who killed him?—not zo; dey stay not to empty
+his pockets.  It profit nobody but Nicolas Berkeley.
+Dink you not dat is singular?  To me it is very singular.
+Zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutchman spoke always with the same careful
+deliberation.  His tone now became stern.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I come now, Mr. Berkeley, to someding dat interest
+you more.  Mr. John Berkeley had, not only a son, but
+alzo a daughter."  The keen-eyed Dutchman noticed a
+slight twitching of the squire's brow.  "Ah, I thought
+dat would interest you!  De daughter, Mary, marry in
+Paris de Comte de Vaudrey, a nobleman, a Huguenot;
+dat is not long before King Charles come back.  Her
+broder Eustace risk his life to come to England on service
+for his sovereign; he write letters to his sister; interesting
+letters; I take leave to read you someding he said."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He took the portfolio from the lawyer's hands, selected
+a paper from it, and read the following passage:—</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"'I feare he has play'd throughout a Double Game.  He
+stands exceeding well with the Godly Partie, &amp; having been at
+Paines to enquire thro' a sure friend I can heare of nothing
+done in our behalfe, but rather of endeavors to feather his
+owne nest.  But enough of that; if our hopes are crown'd, as
+praye God they may be speedilie, Nicolas will have no choice but
+to quitte the Hall, and make what Profitte he may of his owne
+farmes.'</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Zo! dis letter, and oders, was received by Madame la
+Comtesse de Vaudrey—dat is, Mary Berkeley—when her
+husband was absent from Paris.  He return; de poor lady
+is dying; she leave a little boy.  He write to Eustace from
+Paris; he get no reply; he write again, dree times in all;
+still no reply, and he dink his wife's friends English and care
+not any more.  As for him, he has pride and keep silence,
+and believe Eustace Berkeley is now lord of Winton Hall.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Zo time pass.  Den come trouble to de Huguenots in
+France, and de Comte de Vaudrey take refuge wid his son
+in Holland.  He read no English; but he keep dings dat
+belong to his wife, among dem de letters of Eustace.  His
+son Louis marry in Holland a Huguenot lady.  Fader, son,
+both are dead, but"—he wagged his forefinger impressively—"but
+Louis Comte de Vaudrey leave a daughter, Adèle,
+and it is on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de Vaudrey I
+wait upon you to-day.  I know well dese dings are not new
+to you; I know dat.  It is now some years when Captain
+Aglionby—an adventurer, a cut-droat—discover how
+Mademoiselle Adèle is related to de house of Berkeley.
+Already he know someding of you; he have an uncle
+Minshull dat live on your estate.  He see a chance to
+feader his very bare nest, and he take it.  You are de
+squire, he dink; a rich man; you will pay well to keep
+de secret.  He come to you; you do pay well; you become
+his generous patron, and he do your dirty work.  But
+sometimes you lose temper, and give him hard words and
+close your purse.  Perhaps, dink he, he may find yet
+anoder rich man who will buy de secret.  Such a man is
+Monsieur de Polignac.  Your Aglionby take money from
+you, and bargain wid Polignac to get more money when
+he become by marriage owner of dis estate and turn you
+out.  But de plan is found out; we have settle with
+Polignac; he is dead; we search for Aglionby; he hide
+himself; and now, Mr. Berkeley, it is your turn.  I come
+to you to demand, on behalf of Mademoiselle Adèle de
+Vaudrey, possession of her property in seven days from
+dis present day.  My friend Mr. Tape of Lincoln's Inn
+have copies of all de papers; he will show dem, at proper
+time, to your lawyer.  De history is now at end,
+Mr. Berkeley.  I dank you for your zo-patient hearing.  It is
+now to you; zo!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Berkeley had spoken never a word.  For a few
+moments he remained motionless in his chair; then,
+lengthening his arm, he pulled a bell-rope at his side.  A
+servant entered.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thomas," said the squire in his thin hard voice,
+"show these gentlemen to the door."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Grootz and the lawyer glanced at each other.  The
+latter gave a slight shrug and began to tie up his
+portfolio.  Grootz rose.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I have de honour, Mr. Berkeley, to wish you good-day."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>And with his companion he left the room.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>An hour later the village was startled by the news that
+the squire had had a stroke.  A man had ridden to
+Salisbury for the physician, and the gossips at the Queen's
+Head were already discussing the expected succession of
+"young squire" to the estates.  But in the afternoon the
+report was contradicted.  The squire had merely been
+seized with a fainting fit; he had recovered and was to all
+appearance his usual self.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A week passed; Mr. Berkeley had received from
+Mr. Swettenham Tape of Lincoln's Inn a formal demand for
+the surrender of the property, to which he made no
+reply.  At the end of the week Mr. Tape filed a suit in
+chancery.  But the mills of the law grind slowly.  Grootz
+had returned to Holland, a new campaign had opened,
+and Harry Rochester was with Prince Eugene in northern
+Italy before Mr. Swettenham Tape had all his affidavits
+sworn.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A few weeks before the case was to be opened before
+Lord Chancellor Cowper, a bailiff armed with a warrant,
+and accompanied by two strong tipstaves, appeared at
+the house of a Mistress Consterdine near the Cockpit,
+Whitehall.  The bailiff gained admittance, and when after
+some time he returned to the street he was accompanied
+by a tall bulky man in semi-military garb, with whom he
+and the tipstaves entered a hackney coach and were driven
+to Newgate.  The prisoner was at once brought before
+the magistrate and charged under the name of Ralph
+Aglionby with entering into a treasonable conspiracy on
+behalf of the exiled Stuarts.  In addition to the letters
+taken in his lodging, other papers that had been brought
+from Germany were put in by the Crown, proving Aglionby
+to have been in the service of Her Majesty's enemies; and
+a man Simmons, a joiner in London, who had received a
+free pardon, gave evidence that Aglionby had fought with
+the Bavarians at Blenheim and elsewhere, holding a
+commission in the Elector of Bavaria's forces.  His papers
+were found to include letters from Mr. Nicolas Berkeley of
+Winton Hall, forwarding sums of money to Aglionby in
+Holland.  The sequel to this discovery was the arrest of
+Mr. Berkeley at his inn in Soho, and his inclusion in the
+indictment for conspiracy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The trial came on in due course.  Captain Aglionby's
+connection with the Jacobites was fully established, and
+he was sentenced to be transported to the Plantations
+for twenty years.  Mr. Berkeley's complicity was not so
+clearly shown, though he could bring no evidence to prove
+his statement that the sums remitted to his fellow-prisoner
+were payment for private services totally unconnected with
+the Jacobite cause.  The circumstances were suspicious,
+and the judge considered that he showed great lenience in
+condemning Mr. Berkeley to pay a fine of £500.  Although
+he had for years enjoyed a large income, he had but little
+ready money at command.  He had spent large sums in
+purchasing lands adjoining the Winton property, and the
+extravagance of his son had been a constant drain upon
+his purse.  With the civil action de Vaudrey </span><em class="italics">v.</em><span> Berkeley
+pending in the court of chancery, he found some difficulty
+in borrowing sufficient money to pay his fine.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The chancery suit came on for hearing.  The claimants
+had engaged the highest counsel of the day, and brought
+a great array of evidence, documentary and oral, from
+Holland.  Mr. Berkeley's case was ably argued, but the
+evidence was irresistible; the decision was given against
+him; he was ordered to produce the title deeds of the
+property, and to render an account of all that he had
+derived from the estates since his illegal usurpation of
+them forty-five years before.  He wished to appeal; but,
+discredited by the result of the trial for conspiracy, he was
+unable to raise the necessary funds.  He was moving
+heaven and earth to overcome his difficulties when
+payment was demanded of the sum he had borrowed to meet
+the fine, and as the money was not forthcoming he was
+arrested and thrown into the debtors' prison in the Fleet.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was December before the case was finally decided.
+As soon as Mynheer Grootz was released from his business
+cares by the armies going into winter quarters, he
+accompanied Madame de Vaudrey with Adèle and part of their
+household to England, and saw them installed in Winton
+Hall.  At Adèle's wish, Mr. Berkeley was not pressed
+for the costs of the suit he had lost; but his other creditors
+were relentless, and determined to keep him in the Fleet
+prison until the income from the farms he inherited from
+his mother should have enabled him to pay his debts.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>It was many months before Harry learnt of the success
+of Grootz's efforts on behalf of Adèle.  In March, 1705,
+he left Austria with Prince Eugene for Italy, where the
+prince's cousin, Victor Amadeus the Second of Savoy, was
+maintaining a difficult struggle against Marshal Vendôme.
+He was with the prince at the indecisive battle of Cassano
+in August, and spent the winter in Turin.  There letters
+reached him from England telling how Adèle had taken
+up her residence at Winton as lady of the manor, and
+when he wrote his warm letter of congratulation he said to
+himself that his fate was now sealed.  At Turin also he
+received a letter from Fanshawe reporting his father's
+death and his own determination to sell out and live on
+his estate.  This news gave Harry a fresh pang, for, though
+he knew that Fanshawe's suit had been again rejected, he
+felt that as next-door neighbours Adèle and he would see
+much of each other, and their constant companionship
+might at length end in a match which on many grounds
+must be considered excellent.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Next year he served Prince Eugene as aide-de-camp at
+the battle of Calcinate in April, and again five months
+later at the brilliant victory of Turin, when the prince, by
+his total defeat of the Duke of Orleans and Marshal
+Marsin, finally saved Savoy from the clutches of King
+Louis.  His own services did not go unrewarded.  The
+prince gave him the colonelcy of an imperial dragoon
+regiment, and held out hopes that if he remained in the
+emperor's service he might before long gain an estate
+and a title of nobility.  But a few days after the battle,
+he received from England a letter which altered the whole
+course of his life.  It was a short note from Madame de
+Vaudrey, written at Winton nearly three months before.
+Certain circumstances had come to light, wrote the lady,
+that rendered his presence at Winton desirable as soon
+as he could obtain leave.  It was nearly four years since
+the black day on which he had left his home so sadly;
+he was hungry for a sight of the old scenes and the old
+faces, and felt something more than curiosity to see Adèle
+de Vaudrey as lady bountiful of the parish.  He went at
+once to Prince Eugene with the letter; the prince drew
+from him the whole story of his connection with the
+family of Lindendaal, and with a twinkling eye consented
+to his immediate departure for England.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The French will give us no more trouble here," he
+said.  "My next battle will be fought on other soil.  I
+said before, you remember, that you were in love.  You
+thought not.  We shall see.  Go home; but the war is not
+over.  I shall hope to see you at the head of your regiment
+in the next campaign."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Sherebiah was as much delighted as his master at the
+thought of seeing home again.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell 'ee the truth, sir," he said, when Harry ordered
+him to make preparations for departure, "I be a-thinken
+o' Katrinka.  I don't feel happy in my mind at the notion
+o' her at Winton Simmary wi'out me.  Why, old feyther
+o' mine, ancient soul as he be, if he knows what a hand
+her've got for griddle-cakes—zooks! sir, he'll be a-marryen
+her hisself, never thinken as I be more'n a boy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One October day Harry and Sherebiah embarked at
+Leghorn for the voyage home.  Their vessel made quick
+sailing as far as Gibraltar, where Sir George Rooke had
+planted the flag of England two years before; but was
+beset by contrary winds in the Atlantic, beat about for
+days in the Bay of Biscay, and reached Southampton sadly
+buffeted six weeks after leaving Leghorn.  The travellers
+lost no time in taking horse, and rode up to Winton Hall
+late one November evening.  Harry was received with a
+warmth of greeting that made him glow with pleasure.
+Even Adèle welcomed him with more frankness than she
+had ever before shown him, though he detected a different
+constraint, a something new in her manner, that puzzled
+him.  The evening was spent in talking over old times
+and the strange events that had happened since their last
+meeting.  Mynheer Grootz, Harry learnt, had visited
+Winton more than once since he had installed Adèle in
+her property nearly a year before, and was coming over
+to spend Christmas with them.  Godfrey Fanshawe, now
+Sir Godfrey, was a frequent visitor and had been the
+means of introducing them to many of the best people in
+the county, who had welcomed Adèle with open arms.
+Madame afterwards told Harry privately that Sir Godfrey
+had once more proposed to Adèle, and been finally refused.
+Adèle herself looked older and more womanly.  She had
+acquired considerable fluency in English, and was fond
+of going about among the villagers, taking the keenest
+interest in ways of life and thought so novel to her.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But the dear girl is not happy," said Madame with
+a sigh.  "No, she is not happy.  I fear she is home-sick.
+We have sold Lindendaal and repaid Mynheer Grootz's
+friend who so generously bought up that odious man's
+mortgages.  But Adèle was happier at Lindendaal than
+she is here.  She has been restless ever since we came
+to England, and you would be surprised to know, Harry,
+how she throws herself lately into the details of this
+horrible war.  The </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span> comes to us every day by
+the coach from London, and the house is littered, perfectly
+littered, mon ami, with maps of Italy.  Decidedly she is
+a changed creature."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mamma," interrupted Adèle, "don't give Monsieur
+Harry a wrong idea.  I am happy enough, but——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hé! voila!" exclaimed Madame with a little gesture.
+"She is happy, but——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is this business that required my presence?"
+said Harry, to relieve the girl of her manifest embarrassment.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!  Adèle must explain that.  It has been her affair
+always."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Mamma, I think you should explain.  You
+wrote to Monsieur Harry."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh bien! but it was you who told me what to say.
+No, I leave it to you: I have no head for affairs, especially
+for affairs so complicated.  But it is growing late, and
+Harry must be tired.  We will let him have a good night's
+rest: then to-morrow, ma chérie, you can have a whole
+morning together."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The morning turned out bright, and after breakfast
+Adèle proposed a walk round the grounds.  Harry was
+nothing loth, and when Madame did not offer to accompany
+them, he concluded that, living in England, she had
+decided to conform to English ways.  In the course of that
+ramble Harry heard a story that amazed him.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>During the past year Adèle had made many friends
+among the villagers, and one friend in particular, old
+Gaffer Minshull.  She had been specially gracious to him
+for the sake of Katrinka, who, however quick she might
+be in learning how to cook Wiltshire bacon and to sing
+Wiltshire songs, was certainly slow in learning Wiltshire
+English.  The Lady Squire, as he called her, had become
+a great favourite with the old man, and, as she grew
+accustomed to his dialect, he talked to her freely about
+the village, the late parson, and the late squire, of whom
+he was no longer "afeard".  Adèle, like everyone else,
+had always been puzzled about Mr. Berkeley's hatred of
+Harry, and she asked the old man whether he knew of
+any reason for it beyond his being the son of the squire's
+sturdy opponent, Parson Rochester.  Minshull confessed
+that he was as much perplexed as she.  The old squire's
+man Jock had told him of the incident witnessed at the
+park gate on the day of Harry's departure for London,
+when, seeing him walk by, Mr. Berkeley had looked as
+if he had had a shock; and he remembered that Squire
+had left the Hall in a post-chaise the next day, though
+whither they went Jock never would tell.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>This set Adèle thinking.  She made further enquiries
+of the old man.  Had not the squire a brother?  At the
+question Minshull looked hard at her, and replied with
+some hesitation that such was the case; he had a brother,
+or rather a step-brother.  Adèle enquired what had become
+of him; she knew, for Grootz had made no secret of his
+discovery; but she asked in order to get more information.
+He died, said the old man, on the Dover road; a
+fine young man, though he did hold to that false Charles
+One and his light son Charles Two.  Then insensibly the
+old man was led on to talk at large; he seemed anxious
+to ease his mind of a burden; and with the garrulity of
+old age, and being no longer "afeard" of the squire, he
+at length poured out the whole pitiful story.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Forty-seven years before, in '59, when he was a
+Republican trooper and his regiment was stationed at
+Blackheath, he was passing one morning through London on
+his way back to camp after—he was ashamed to confess
+it—a riotous night.  Suddenly he was called into a church
+to witness a marriage.  No one was present save the clergy,
+bride and bridegroom, and the other witness, apparently
+a lady's-maid.  In his half-fuddled state he had no clear
+recollection of anything beyond the facts that he signed
+his name and came away with a guinea.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>About a year later, after the Restoration, when his
+regiment was gloomily expecting the order for disbandment,
+he was strolling one evening in the direction of Shooter's
+Hill, and attracted by a crowd about an inn door.  A
+young gentleman had been discovered a few miles down
+the road, lying unconscious, and severely wounded.  He
+had been brought to the inn, and soon afterwards his
+servant appeared, a Frenchman, who had fled when his
+master was attacked by footpads.  From him it was
+learnt that the name of the wounded man was Berkeley,
+and that he was on his way to Winton St. Mary to take
+possession of the family estates.  Minshull, out of sheer
+curiosity, asked with many other bystanders to be shown
+the unfortunate gentleman, and to his amazement he
+recognized him as the bridegroom whose wedding he had
+witnessed nearly a year before.  A message was sent
+to Winton St. Mary, and two days later Mr. Nicolas
+Berkeley appeared on the scene.  Minshull meanwhile
+had hung about, partly out of curiosity, partly out of
+interest in the man whose murder had followed so quickly
+upon his marriage.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The wounded man never recovered consciousness.  He
+died soon after his brother's arrival.  Minshull found an
+opportunity of speaking to the squire, and condoled with
+him on the loss of so handsome a brother, and on the sad
+plight of the young widow left to mourn his loss.
+Mr. Berkeley had appeared surprised at the mention of a
+widow, and asked the trooper to tell him all he knew.
+This was very little; he could not remember the church
+where the marriage had been performed, nor the name of
+the bride; all he was sure of was the identity of the
+bridegroom; he did not even remember the name Berkeley.
+The squire had shaken his head and frowned: a secret
+marriage!—there was something suspicious in that; his
+brother had some reason to be ashamed of his alliance:
+he would look into it; but for the present it was best to
+drop the curtain on the episode.  He had then offered the
+trooper a situation at the Hall, which Minshull, with no
+settled livelihood after nearly twenty years' military
+service, eagerly accepted.  He received good wages, and by
+and by a cottage on the estate.  He was well aware that
+the squire treated him thus generously to keep his mouth
+shut, and though many times he had felt the prick of
+conscience, he was so comfortable, and, as time went on, so
+much afraid of the squire, that he had never broken the
+tacit pact between them.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Old Minshull's story worked so powerfully upon Adèle's
+imagination that she became at length ill at ease.  What
+had become of the bride whose marriage he had witnessed?
+Adèle remembered how Eustace Berkeley had spoken of
+her in his letters to Mary de Vaudrey; she remembered,
+too, that he had married under a feigned name.  Her
+uneasiness grew so intolerable that she persuaded her mother,
+not without difficulty, to put the facts before the same
+lawyer whom Mynheer Grootz had employed—Mr. Swettenham
+Tape of Lincoln's Inn.  He warned her that enquiry
+might result in the loss of her property, but she insisted on
+an investigation, and as it promised to be an interesting
+enquiry, the attorney took it up with enthusiasm.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>One of his first steps was to interrogate Mr. Berkeley's
+man Jock, who had driven with his master to Hungerford
+on that November day three years before.  As the result
+of the interview, the lawyer himself made a journey to
+Hungerford, where he called at the parsonage and had a
+conversation with the vicar, enquiring particularly about
+his predecessors in the living.  He learnt that the former
+rector had died in 1680 at the age of sixty-eight, leaving
+a grandson, his only daughter's child, a young man of
+twenty-one who had just taken deacon's orders.  The
+grandson's name was Rochester.  Did the vicar know
+anything of the young man's father?  Nothing but the
+vaguest rumours; it was generally understood that Lucy
+Rochester's husband had deserted her a few months after
+their marriage, and that was naturally a subject on which
+the family would say nothing.  Was the lady still living?
+She had died ten years before her father.  If Mr. Tape
+desired further details, there was one person who might
+gratify him if she wished: the wife of the landlord of the
+Bear Inn, who had been lady's-maid to Mistress Rochester.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The attorney hastened to the inn, engaged a room for
+the night, and took the first opportunity of having a gossip
+with Mrs. Pemberton, the hostess, a comely, pleasant old
+dame of near seventy years.  She had the keenest recollection
+of the one romantic incident of her life.  Mistress
+Lucy!—of course she remembered the sweet pretty
+creature.  She had been with her in London the year before
+the King came back, when she was visiting her aunt.
+And Mr. Rochester, too—ah! such a handsome young
+gentleman; but a wicked deceiver, she feared.  He had
+protected Mistress Lucy from footpads one evening:
+that was the beginning of it, and the end was a marriage,
+and a sad end it was, for Mr. Rochester went away to
+France three months afterwards, on some urgent business
+which he did not explain, and he never returned.
+Mrs. Rochester remained for nearly a year in London, then
+returned to her father at Hungerford with her infant son,
+a bonny boy who grew up a blessing to her, and became a
+parson, and died only three years back at Winton St. Mary,
+she had heard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Tape asked whether she remembered the church in
+which the wedding had taken place.  To be sure she did;
+it was St. Andrew's Undershaft; she remembered how dark
+it looked, and how awed the other witness had appeared
+to be, a rough soldier who was fetched in from the street,
+and was a little overtaken with liquor.  And, strange to
+say, this was the second time she had been asked about
+this incident of long ago, a miserable-looking old
+gentleman having called upon her three years before; after
+talking with her, he had left the house without so much as
+asking for a tankard of her home-brewed.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>On returning to London, the attorney examined the
+register of St. Andrew's Undershaft, and made a copy of
+the entry of a marriage on June 19, 1659, between Eustace
+Rochester, bachelor, of St. Andrew's parish, and Lucy
+Fleming, spinster, of Hungerford.  The information given
+by Gaffer Minshull and Mrs. Pemberton was then
+embodied in affidavits, and the whole case being complete,
+Mr. Tape laid the result of his investigations before
+Madame de Vaudrey and her daughter, and asked for
+their instructions.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry had listened to Adèle's story, as they rambled
+round and round the park, with a strange mixture of
+emotions.  Astonishment was perhaps the dominant one,
+but there was also the happiness of knowing something
+about his family, and dismay at the knowledge that he, and
+not Adèle, was the rightful owner of the Berkeley estates.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, then you are my cousin, Adèle!" he said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Harry,—and you are head of the family."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"How plain it makes everything!  And do you know,
+I pity the wretched old man who has lived for nearly fifty
+years with these crimes on his conscience.  He must have
+led a miserable life."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"That is why I am glad all is discovered.  I should lead
+a miserable life too if I found I was enjoying what did
+not belong to me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is nonsense, Adèle.  You don't imagine I
+shall take the estates?  Not I.  The good folks here adore
+you already; I won't take from them their lady squire."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You must."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!  Only weak or foolish sovereigns abdicate,
+Adèle: you are not weak or foolish.  Besides, I have my
+career.  I am on the high road to preferment.  Prince
+Eugene has given me a regiment, and—I didn't mean
+to tell you this—promises me an estate and a title in
+Austria."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know perfectly well that you would rather
+be plain Mr. Berkeley, an English squire, than count or
+prince or royal highness in Austria.  No; I will not listen
+to you: if you insist on being an Austrian—well, I shall
+give up the estates to the crown: Queen Anne shall be lady
+of the manor."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot: you are not of age, and Madame would
+never hear of it."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Henry Berkeley, I have only two years to wait."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>They had come round to the gate leading from the park
+to the graveyard.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and see the monument the people put up in the
+church to your father, Harry," said Adèle, with a change
+of tone.  He opened the gate for her; she passed through,
+then turned, and said: "It is you or Queen Anne,
+Mr. Berkeley."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Harry was on the other side of the gate.  They looked
+into each other's eyes.  He knew her strength of character:
+he had no doubt that she would do anything to which she
+had made up her mind.  He was troubled, and, resting his
+arms on the upper bar of the gate, stood thus pondering.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Adèle," he said presently, "but for me you would stay
+at the Hall?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"If I were the rightful owner, certainly; but now it is
+clearly impossible."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite impossible, Adèle, even so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He waited for an answer, but she was unexpectedly
+silent, her eyes cast down.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite impossible, Adèle.  If you will not stay for
+any other reason—tell me, Adèle, will you not stay for my
+sake?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Still she made no answer, only looked up with a shy
+startled glance.  But in that look Harry found courage to
+repeat his question.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"Never did I ply my fark at such a roaren dinner—never
+in my born days; I tells 'ee true, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, I seed 'ee myself, Lumpy, a-scoopen chidlens
+an' plum-pudden an' furmenty into your thropple till I
+thowt 'ee'd bust.  'Twere noble eatin', to be sure."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Soapy, an' cost a pretty penny, I warrant.  Squire
+Harry be a different sart o' feller to old Squire as was.
+Never did he gi' us a warmen-up, nor never would, if
+there'd ha' bin farty weddens."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why bean't every day a marryen day?  'T'ould keep
+all our innards warm an' cosy 'ithout us doen a hand's turn."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'T'ould be the ruin of a poor stunpoll like 'ee,
+Jemmy.  I'm afeard 'ee'll never be a man, an' if 'ee got
+your vittles so easy 'ee'd be more like a fatted calf 'n ever."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  I knows my dumb brain be weak by natur'.  I
+mind how dazed I were the black day young pa'son went
+to Lun'on, and John painter made Mis'ess Joplady's pictur'
+the colour o' sut."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An' it'll be the colour o' sut to-morrer, souls, I gi' my
+word for that.  They tells me 'tis treason, but John painter
+do blot out Queen's yead to-morrer, and inn turns to
+Berkeley Arms again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Like a 'ooman, changes her name at a wedden.—Ah! here
+be neighbour Minshull; a scantling o' cheese and a
+mug o' old stingo for gaffer, Mistress Joplady; he'll want
+a summat to comfort un, poor aged soul, this night o'
+fearsome joy."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"True, Tom cobbler, I be gone eighty-vive.  I ha' seed
+un home-along, souls; my boy Sherebiah be a man at
+last, an' I be proud as a grandfeyther a'ready.  Never did
+I think my boy an' young pa'son 'd say the awful words in
+church the same day.  'I take thee, Addle,' says Master
+Harry in a feelin' key, and 'I take thee, Katrinka,' says
+my boy when the gentry was done; and they little small
+words do have a world o' better or wuss in 'em."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, gaffer; 'ee can sing 'Now lettest thou thy sarvant
+depart', wi' a honest mind, hey!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoy!  Not me!  I bean't got no vurther 'n 'My soul
+doth magnify' yet.  I'll bide a bit longer afore I goos to
+churchyard, trust me.  My boy as was do say there'll
+be another wedden afore long; the Dutchman and Mis'ess
+Addle's mother be a-comen to't.  He've been sweet on
+her, a' b'lieve, for many a forlorn day.  My boy ha'
+carried many a noble gift from the man to th' 'ooman."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Two furreners makes a better match nor one o' one
+sart, t'other o' t'other.  Mistress Addle be a goodly
+maid, nesh as a ripe apple; but her be French; that you
+cannet deny; and French and English be like oil and
+vinegar."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do mix better in a sallet-dressen?—tell me
+that, souls."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, Mistress Joplady, we cannet gainsay 'ee on a
+matter o' that homeliness; but what med 'ee say o' the
+name?  Addle! it bean't a very coaxen name for a squire's
+lady, be jowned if it be."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear lamb! to take her name in vain!  You, Soapy
+Dick you, we all knows 'ee for a addle-pate; else your
+hair wouldn' grow so fiery red.  What do a bide-at-home
+like 'ee know o' high names an' titles?  Addle be the true
+French for a bloomy cheek—Sherry Minshull telled me so
+hisself.  Bean't that the true meanen on't, gaffer?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sherry's yead be full o' rare knowledge, Mis'ess.
+But daze me, name or no name, 'tis all one: French her
+were, English her be; and if any twanken feller do say her
+bean't good, and comely, and a comforten wife for young
+Squire—why, old as I be I'll try the thickness of his poll,
+I will so."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll help 'ee, gaffer.  My weak head cannet make no
+goodness out o' Addle, but her gi' me a zilver zixpence for
+choppen wood, her did, and if I cracks a poll wi' 'ee, mebbe
+her'll gi' me another."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, hers be a good heart, 'tis true.  Why, her went
+along to Grange and begged and prayed young Sir Godfrey
+to putt poor Willum Nokes back into 's ancient place
+o' constable.  And Sir Godfrey he can't refuse her nothen,
+for all her have refused he, as 'tis said; and so wi' noo
+year poor Willum'll be back in his little small cottage,
+a-rulen over parish in the Queen's name once more."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Such changes as the world do see!  Look 'ee, souls,
+I be eighty-vive, and I've seed a mort o' things in my time.
+I ha' growed like a oak from boy well-nigh to grandfeyther,
+an' seed six high and mighty sovrans goo to yearth: two
+Jameses, two Charleses, Noll Crum'ell, and Dutch Willum
+to end the tale.  Ay, the world be full o' ups and downs.
+To think, now, that old Squire—him as once I were so
+tarrible afeard on—be now eatin' the bread and water of
+affliction in a Lun'on prison-house!  And they do say as
+how his son Piers be joined in matrimony to a Dutch
+'ooman o' great tonnage, full o' years an' goold pieces.
+An he were a right youth a'd pay his old feyther's debts an'
+set the captive free; but not he, I warrant: he'll lay out all
+the goold th' old wife gies un on wigs and furbelows.
+And there be Squire Harry—young pa'son as was: who'd
+a thowt, when his poor feyther went under ground, 'twas a
+rightful squire Bill sexton had dug for, and the boy
+a-droppen warm tears into his holler grave ought to ha'
+been squire that minute in his place?  Ay, I mind the
+sermon as pa'son spoke out in church fust Sunday arter
+news come o' Master Harry bein' true squire.  I seed un
+climb pulpit steps, and I know'd by the spread o' his
+petticoats summat awful for poor sinners was a-comen, an'
+I felt all leery down the small o' my back.  'God is the
+judge,' says pa'son in his slow, tarrifyen way: 'he putteth
+down one, and setteth up another.'  That were the holy
+text, out of Thy sarvant David's psa'ms, and daze me if
+pa'son didn't scarify old Squire as if 'twas pa'son hisself
+was choused out o' his rightful proputty.  'Twas a powerful
+bit o' preachen; every 'ooman there was took wi' a longen
+to let the water-drops tummle, but none on 'em durst begin
+till Mis'ess Addle's mother set the key.  Then 'twas a
+little Noah's flood; you mind, souls?—such a fall o' tears
+bean't seed in Winton Simmary since pa'son told us
+Princess Henrietta were dead in France."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"And be Squire Harry a-gwine to gi' up the trade o'
+killen, and bide at home wi' poor peaceful folks like we
+as never slays nowt but pigs and other beasts o' the
+field?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so.  My boy do zay he med ha' been a knight
+or lard at a word wi' Prince Eugene; but bless 'ee, he've
+got his lands to look arter, and we poor folks besides, and
+like his feyther afore un he have a true heart for home an'
+friends.  Why, he wouldn' gi' up the charge o' we poor
+souls, not to be the Lord's anointed."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark 'ee, Gaffer Minshull; bean't they the bells at last?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, 'tis so.  Pa'son commanded a peal at zeven o'clock
+by way o' holy consolation to bride an' bridegroom.  Old
+Everlasten ha' took his coat off; 'tis he do call the changes;
+and i' feck, the bells 'll romp through a rare randy afore
+he've done wi' 'em.  Now, sonnies, what d'ye say to
+wenden out-along an' callen choir and orchestry together?
+Then we'll march up t' Hall, and sing 'em a lively ditty
+as 'll cheer 'em up arter the Christian doens o' the day.
+Sackbut, psalteery, an' all sarts o' music, says the Book;
+we cannet muster they holy instruments, to be sure, but
+wi' fiddle and bass-viol and serpent, and a little bit o'
+tribble an' bass, we'll make a shift to raise a goodish randy
+toon.  What d'ye say, sonnies?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Be jowned if it bean't a fine notion for such a old aged
+martal.  Ay, let's out-along and make all the nise we can."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A thimbleful afore 'ee goos, souls.  Mugs all, an' lift
+up your hearts in a noble cheer for Squire an' Lady Squire,
+wishen 'em long life an' a happy end.  All together now;
+spet it out o' your wynd-pipes; hurray! hurray! hurray!"</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst" id="visitors-at-winton-hall"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Visitors at Winton Hall</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Weather-bound—A Home Circle—Marlborough Unbends—Of
+Princes—A Certain Harry Rochester</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>One January evening, in the year 1712, a little group was
+gathered in the turret-room of Winton Hall.  The wind
+was roaring without; snow had been falling steadily all
+day; but within all was warmth and peace.  A big wood
+fire blazed on the open hearth, lighting up with its ruddy
+glare as charming a scene as any English country-house
+could show.  It was the children's hour; little Eustace
+Berkeley, a sturdy boy of five, stood by his mother's knee
+on one side of the hearth, and on the other, Mary, two
+years younger, nestled in her father's arms.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Squire Berkeley looked up from his copy of the </span><em class="italics">Courant</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The duke is dismissed from all his offices, Adèle."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"What that mean, Faver?" said the boy instantly.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The Queen has sent away the great man who fought
+her battles so bravely; he will hang up his sword and
+perhaps never use it again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did the naughty Queen send the great duke
+away, Faver?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why naughty tween send dute away?" echoed Mary,
+a golden-haired fairy, the image, as Mevrouw Grootz was
+wont to declare, of Adèle at the same age.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Because the Queen does not like him as she used to
+do.  She likes somebody else better, and there are unkind
+people who whisper in her ear stories about him that are
+very likely not true.  He is a great man, Eustace, and
+there are always little men to say unkind things about
+the great."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you a great man, Faver?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my son; I am a plain English squire, that would
+rather live here with you all than in any king's palace."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"But your father might have been a great man," said
+Mistress Berkeley.  "A great prince——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay, my dear," interrupted the squire, "leave
+that story till the children are older.  It is bed-time now,
+my chicks.  Hark how the wind roars!  Think of the little
+birds out in the cold; they have no warm cosy cots like
+yours.  In the morning, remember, we are to make a
+figure of the great duke in the snow.—But what is that?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The deep-toned house-bell had clanged in the hall below.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis late for a visitor, and in this snowstorm too!"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He threw open the door, and stood waiting.  In a few
+moments a man appeared.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An't please 'ee, sir, a coach be snowed up a hunnerd
+yards or so beyond church, an' the travellers be come afoot
+to axe if 'ee'll give 'em shelter."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course!  I will come down.  Tell Dick to take a
+couple of horses and haul the coach out of the drift, and
+ask Sherebiah to prepare some hot cordial."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He followed the man downstairs.  Just within the doorway
+stood two white figures muffled up to the ears in long
+cloaks.  They doffed their snow-laden hats as Harry
+appeared, and the elder came forward.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I crave your pardon, sir," he said in smooth mellow
+tones that revived old memories and quickened Harry's
+pulse—"I crave your pardon for troubling you at such an
+unseasonable hour, but my coach is blocked in a drift a
+hundred yards or so beyond the church, and as my friend
+Lord Godolphin is far from well, I have come to ask your
+hospitality until we can free the coach and return to the
+inn.  I am the Duke of Marlborough."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grace is heartily welcome.  But pray do me the
+honour to accept beds for the night.  The inn is near a
+mile away, and you are cold and wet.  Let me remove
+your things.  I have already sent a man to bring your
+coach to my stables, and there is a good fire above."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you.  I cannot resist your invitation.  To
+whom are we indebted for our welcome?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry Berkeley, my lord; this is Winton Hall."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!  I remember the name.  There was some little
+romance, if I mistake not, about the inheritance a few
+years since.  Thank you, Mr. Berkeley! this is indeed
+a haven of refuge to worn-out travellers."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Divested of their outer garments and provided with
+slippers, the two noblemen preceded their host up the stairs.
+At the door of the turret-room he advanced a few paces.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, his grace the Duke of Marlborough and Lord
+Godolphin.  They are our guests to-night."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Berkeley rose and made a sweeping curtsy,
+blushing prettily, and throwing a half-startled, half-amused
+glance at her husband.  The children made round eyes of
+wonder.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Madame, 'tis a charming welcome.  We were driving
+to my lord Pembroke's at Wilton Park, and were besnowed.
+'Tis indeed a delightful transformation."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>He patted the children's cheeks playfully.  Lord Godolphin,
+who was evidently ill, had already thrown himself
+wearily into a chair.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my little man, what is your name?" asked Marlborough
+of the boy.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Eustace Berkeley, sir."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty name, egad.  And what would you like to be
+when you are a man, eh?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A soldier, and wear a red coat, and a sword, and fight
+for the Queen."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A proper answer, indeed.  Well, if you grow strong, and
+do what your father and mother tell you, you may be a
+soldier one day, and perhaps—who knows?—a great man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not want to be a great man."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not, my boy?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Faver says people are not kind to great men, and the
+Queen likes somebody else better, and sends them away."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A little philosopher already, Mr. Berkeley," said my
+lord, smiling at the child.  "Well, well, my little fellow,
+be a good man; not even the Queen could wish you better
+than that."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the children's bed hour, my lord," said Mistress
+Berkeley.  "I pray you excuse me."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>As mother and children left the room, Sherebiah, who
+as butler at Winton Hall had settled down as a very
+comfortable man of peace, entered with a tray on which were
+silver tankards of mulled wine.  The good fellow looked
+not a day older than when he had led Katrinka to the
+altar six years before.  He placed the tray on a table and
+silently withdrew.  The guests sipped the grateful liquor
+and sat in tired silence gazing into the fire.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Mistress Berkeley returned.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Supper is served, my lords," she said.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A sweet word to famished men."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>The duke offered her his arm and led the way to the
+supper room, followed by Lord Godolphin and Harry.  At
+the table he kept up an animated conversation with his
+hostess, yielding as all men did to the charm of a rarely
+gracious personality.  Lord Godolphin was as little
+inclined to talk as to eat.  When the cloth was removed,
+and Sherebiah had placed bottles on the table and left the
+gentlemen to themselves, Marlborough crossed his knees
+and said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, Mr. Berkeley, you are a lucky man, with such
+a wife and such children.  We could not have fared more
+happily—eh, my lord?"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay indeed," replied Godolphin, thawing a little.
+"We could never have reached Wilton to-night.  The
+wind, hark you, is gaining in fury—a sorry night for
+travellers."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay; that poor wretch at Basingstoke is well quit of his
+troubles.  A sad case, Mr. Berkeley; but too common, I
+fear.  'Twas a broken soldier; they had clapt him in the
+stocks as a vagrant; never in my life saw I a more piteous
+object.  He was outside the inn, and hailed me as we
+alighted to dine and change horses.  Had fought at
+Blenheim, he told me, captain in a Hanoverian regiment,
+Aglionby by name, and lately returned from the Indies.
+We had him released; but the poor fellow was even worse
+than he seemed; for he died of a sudden before we left the
+inn.  He was on his way to this very village to see a
+cousin, I bethink me he said.  'Tis thus we serve the men
+who have fought our battles."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There was a note of bitterness in Marlborough's voice.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Your pity, I fear, was ill-deserved, my lord," said the
+Squire.  "I know the man.  He fought at Blenheim,
+indeed, but on the other side, and for treasonable practices
+was sent some six years ago on a long term to the
+Plantations.  He must have escaped."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor wretch!  He had a miserable end.  In spite of
+what you tell me, Mr. Berkeley, I pity him.  Such is the
+fate of too many loyal soldiers also, the innocent victims
+of war.  You who live a quiet country life have certainly
+chosen the better part.  The prizes of court and camp are
+in the end but Dead-Sea fruit.  'Put not your trust in
+princes': 'tis the truest of warnings, as we old
+stagers—eh, my lord?—have reason to know."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>A cheerful fire, good fare, and a fine vintage of
+much-travelled Madeira had completed the good impression
+made by the host.  The elder men began to talk freely,
+with none of the constraint which the presence of a
+younger man and a stranger might in other circumstances
+have produced.  Harry was amused to find that the
+passage of years had altered him beyond recognition, and
+wondered when a suitable opportunity would occur of
+recalling himself to the recollection of his guests.  All at
+once Lord Godolphin said:</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis strange, Mr. Berkeley, that I am for the second
+time detained in this village by an accident.  My host on
+that occasion was, I think, a Mr. Fanshawe.  Is he still
+living?  It was ten years ago."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Godfrey Fanshawe is dead, my lord; his son now
+owns the Grange."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"It all comes back to me.  We were travelling to
+London—Frank and I, Jack—and our coach broke down
+as we left a cricket match.  Sir Godfrey Fanshawe was
+good enough to give us beds for the night, and we had
+gone but a few miles on the road next morning when we
+were pulled up by a fallen tree, and in a trice were looking
+down the muzzles of half-a-dozen horse pistols.  I had
+sent some of my young men ahead to arrange a change
+of horses; the others bolted, and there we were in the
+midst of the gang.  'Twas an uncommonly tight place;
+Frank, always handy with his pistol, got in a shot, but
+in another half-minute we should have been stripped or
+worse when there came from the wall at our left a wild
+hullabaloo worse than a dozen Thames bargemen touting
+for a fare.  The rascals turned tail and bolted; over the
+wall sprang a man and a boy, and egad, I remember now
+how I laughed when they told me they'd done the trick
+betwixt 'em.  'Twas a rare flam.  And the boy——"</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, my lord——" began Harry, feeling somewhat
+uncomfortable; but Marlborough, setting his glass down
+on the table, bent forward and interrupted.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Egad, Godolphin, you bring things back to me.  The
+boy—we were always going to do something for him.  He
+found his way to the Low Countries, and showed himself
+a lad of mettle.  I came across him once or twice; noted
+him—for the second time, by the way—for an ensigncy,
+and found that he was already a cornet in a Dutch
+regiment.  He did well with Eugene, I believe.
+Rochester—that was his name—Harry Rochester.  I wonder what
+became of him!  Certainly he owed nothing to patronage—yours
+or mine.  Wasn't he the son of the parson here?
+Mr. Berkeley, has he ever revisited these parts?  'Pon my
+soul, I should like to meet him again."</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"I was about to explain, your grace, that—I am that
+Harry Rochester."</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">A Selection from the
+Catalogue of</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Complete Catalogues sent
+<br />on application</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Light Brigade
+<br />in Spain</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">or</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Last Fight of Sir John Moore</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">By Herbert Strang</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of "Tom Burnaby," etc.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">With a Preface by Lieut.-Col. WILLOUGHBY VERNER.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.  12mo.  $1.50</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"In 'Boys of the Light Brigade' Mr. Strang draws upon the
+resources of the Peninsular War, and succeeds in extracting much
+freshness from well-worn themes, as Moore's retreat to Corunna and
+the heroic defence of Saragossa.  The personal interest of the story
+is kept at a high tension....  It is a book which no boy will
+be able to put down when once started.  The volume is provided
+with excellent maps and plans of the scenes in which the incidents
+take place."—</span><em class="italics">The Standard</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"This author has fairly earned the right to be accepted as the
+legitimate successor of the late George A. Henty in furnishing
+entertainment for youth.  Like Henty, Strang manages to galvanize
+the dry bones of history into a close semblance of glorious life....
+The present volume contains vivid and spirited descriptions
+of campaign life in Spain ... with many rare and interesting
+episodes....  This is good reading for young and old."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago
+Post</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The author describes graphically with truth to history the last
+fight of the British commander, Sir John Moore.  It is a stirring
+military story in the manner of those written by the late George
+A. Henty, but really with more authenticity."—</span><em class="italics">Philadelphia Press</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"An interesting story, with extra good measure in its incidents
+and character ... and with some pretty little love
+passages."—</span><em class="italics">Cleveland Leader</em><span>.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">BY THE SUCCESSOR TO HENTY</em></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold x-large">KOBO</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Story of the Russo-Japanese War</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">By HERBERT STRANG</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Author of "The Light Brigade in Spain," etc.</span></p>
+<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.  12mo, $1.50</em></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>"It is a dashing romance for boys, founded on the Russo-Japanese
+War and worthy of the late Mr. Henty at his best.  A
+story that every schoolboy will enjoy and one that will be read
+with much pleasure and profit by many older readers as
+well."—</span><em class="italics">Cleveland Leader</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The story throughout bristles with adventures, it is well
+written and the author shows intimate knowledge of Japanese
+character and customs."—</span><em class="italics">San Francisco Bulletin</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"In one respect Mr. Strang's tale is even better than many
+of the late G. A. Henty's.  It has more dash and dialogue.
+These are strong points in the work of this writer, who is
+destined to fill the place vacated by the lamented author of
+'Under Drake's Flag,' and 'With Clive in India.'"—</span><em class="italics">The
+Dundee Advertiser</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"For vibrant actuality there is nothing to come up to
+Mr. Strang's 'Kobo.'"—</span><em class="italics">The Academy</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A great amount of actual military history is incorporated
+with an exciting and romantic plot."—</span><em class="italics">The Westminster
+Gazette</em><span>.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Historic Boys.  Their Endeavors, Their Achievements and
+Their Times.  With 29 full-page illustrations.
+8vo, pp. viii + 259.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Historic Girls.  Stories of Girls Who Have Influenced the
+History of Their Times.  8vo, illustrated, pp. viii + 225.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Chivalric Days and Youthful Deeds.  Stirring Stories,
+presenting faithful pictures of historic times.  Illustrated,
+8vo.  $1.25</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Heroic Happenings.  Told in Verse and Story.
+Illustrated, 8vo.  $1.25</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Great Men's Sons.  Stories of the Sons of Great Men from
+Socrates to Napoleon.  Fully illustrated, 8vo.  $1.25</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Including the Sons of Socrates, Alexander, Cicero, Marcus
+Aurelius, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Alfred, William the
+Conqueror, Saladin, Dante, Tamerlane, Columbus, Luther,
+Shakespeare, Cromwell, Peter the Great, Napoleon.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Long Walls.  An American Boy's Adventures in Greece.
+A Story of Digging and Discovery, Temples and Treasures.
+By E. S. Brooks and John Alden.  Illustrated by George
+Foster Barnes.  8vo.   $1.25</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ROYAL ROGUES</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>By ALBERTA BANCROFT.  With Illustrations by Louis
+Betts.  12mo.  $1.25</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>There are few healthy-minded folk, whatever their
+time of life, who will not confess to a fondness for fairy
+tales of the right sort.  "Royal Rogues" has that
+quality which makes a children's book win the hearts of
+grown-ups.  The heroes are merry twin rogues, king's
+sons of course, but with a strain of fairy blood in their
+veins.  Wildly strange and delightful are their
+explorations in the realms of fairyland.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"A charming story ... must be accounted
+one of the prettiest and cleverest of modern fairy
+stories."—</span><em class="italics">Worcester Spy</em><span>.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ON BOARD A WHALER</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><span>An Adventurous Cruise through Southern Seas.  By
+THOMAS WEST HAMMOND.  With 16 full-page
+illustrations by HARRY GEORGE BURGESS.  12mo.  $1.25</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"Thrilling throughout....  In the name of
+American youth, we thank Mr. Hammond for
+resuscitating a memory that had slumbered so
+long."—</span><em class="italics">Com. Advertiser</em><span>.</span></p>
+<p class="pnext"><span>"The yarn he spins of that and other trips in search
+of oil is one of the best I ever read.  It is indeed a
+thrilling, exciting, dangerous story of the sea, a tale of
+personal experience put into book form by as brave a
+sailor as ever chased whales, and it is full of that local
+color which makes a fellow's blood tingle as he turns
+the pages.  The illustrations are excellent."—HENRY
+HAYNIE in </span><em class="italics">The Boston Times</em><span>.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+<br />NEW YORK LONDON</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span>*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em">
+</div>
+<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">By HERBERT STRANG</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A
+Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>The Light Brigade in Spain; or, The Last
+Fight of Sir John Moore.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Kobo.  A Story of the Russo-Japanese War.</span></p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em">
+</div>
+<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- -->
+<div class="backmatter">
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER</span><span> ***</span></p>
+<div class="cleardoublepage">
+</div>
+<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-03-03 08:40:09 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-03-03 08:40:09 -0800
commit	ec4076e986b4ea7bc65ac339a6774c966ac5ba46 (patch)
tree	36f7c91666f5a7b81a1826b28a38d3f557a8dc05 /44362-h
parent	c90eb20192c38578d7c4f7b184e7f0e7c7148084 (diff)