diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 19:58:47 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 19:58:47 -0800 |
| commit | ee7746e2f19f7ed6567ea579e226e8738f3a11f5 (patch) | |
| tree | 0f2097a8f312fd2ceee04e175976966c77050cc8 | |
| parent | b0667da27956b3bd908bd78347ac6b5daab680a2 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-0.txt | 11113 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-0.zip | bin | 211794 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h.zip | bin | 491648 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h/65939-h.htm | 11508 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 99095 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h/images/front.jpg | bin | 102642 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h/images/logo.jpg | bin | 15700 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65939-h/images/title.jpg | bin | 51957 -> 0 bytes |
11 files changed, 17 insertions, 22621 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..935dfcd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65939 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65939) diff --git a/old/65939-0.txt b/old/65939-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2478d8..0000000 --- a/old/65939-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11113 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fortune's Fool, by Rafael Sabatini - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Fortune's Fool - -Author: Rafael Sabatini - -Release Date: July 28, 2021 [eBook #65939] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTUNE'S FOOL *** - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber’s note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - -FORTUNE’S FOOL - -BY -RAFAEL SABATINI - -_Author of “Scaramouche,” “Captain Blood,” “The Snare,” -“The Sea-Hawk,” etc._ - -[Illustration: Logo] - -BOSTON AND NEW YORK -HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY -The Riverside Press Cambridge - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1922 AND 1923, BY THE McCALL COMPANY - -COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY RAFAEL SABATINI - -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - -SECOND IMPRESSION, AUGUST, 1923 -THIRD IMPRESSION, AUGUST, 1923 -FOURTH IMPRESSION, OCTOBER, 1923 - - -The Riverside Press -CAMBRIDGE: MASSACHUSETTS -PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. - - - - -CONTENTS - - I. THE HOSTESS OF THE PAUL’S HEAD 3 - - II. ALBEMARLE’S ANTECHAMBER 13 - - III. HIS GRACE OF ALBEMARLE 23 - - IV. CHERRY BLOSSOMS 36 - - V. THE MERCENARY 53 - - VI. MR. ETHEREDGE PRESCRIBES 65 - - VII. THE PRUDE 78 - - VIII. MR. ETHEREDGE ADVISES 85 - - IX. ALBEMARLE PROPOSES 90 - - X. BUCKINGHAM DISPOSES 101 - - XI. A WOMAN SCORNED 110 - - XII. BUCKINGHAM’S HEROICS 123 - - XIII. BUCKINGHAM’S GRATITUDE 138 - - XIV. DESPAIR 147 - - XV. THE SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS 156 - - XVI. THE SEDAN-CHAIR 175 - - XVII. THE ABDUCTION 187 - - XVIII. THE PARLEY 195 - - XIX. THE BATTLE 205 - - XX. THE CONQUEROR 212 - - XXI. UNDER THE RED CROSS 219 - - XXII. THE CRISIS 228 - - XXIII. THE WALLS OF PRIDE 237 - - XXIV. EVASION 247 - - XXV. HOME 255 - - XXVI. THE DEAD-CART 265 - - XXVII. THE PEST-HOUSE 277 - -XXVIII. JESTING FORTUNE 287 - - XXIX. THE MIRACLE 299 - - - - -FORTUNE’S FOOL - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE HOSTESS OF THE PAUL’S HEAD - - -The times were full of trouble; but Martha Quinn was unperturbed. -Hers was a mind that confined itself to the essentials of life: its -sustenance and reproduction. Not for her to plague herself with the -complexities of existence, with considerations of the Hereafter -or disputations upon the various creeds by which its happiness -may be ensured--a matter upon which men have always been ready to -send one another upon exploring voyages thither--or yet with the -political opinions by which a nation is fiercely divided. Not even -the preparations for war with Holland, which were agitating men so -violently, or the plague-scare based upon reports of several cases in -the outskirts of the City, could disturb the serenity of her direct -existence. The vices of the Court, which afforded such delectable -scandal for the Town, touched her more nearly, as did the circumstance -that yellow bird’s-eye hoods were now all the rage with ladies of -fashion, and the fact that London was lost in worship of the beauty and -talent of Sylvia Farquharson, who was appearing with Mr. Betterton at -the Duke’s House in the part of Katherine in Lord Orrery’s “Henry the -Fifth.” - -Even so, to Martha Quinn, who very competently kept the Paul’s Head, -in Paul’s Yard, these things were but the unimportant trifles that -garnish the dish of life. It was upon life’s main concerns that she -concentrated her attention. In all that regarded meat and drink her -learning--as became the hostess of so prosperous a house--was probably -unrivalled. It was not merely that she understood the mysteries of -bringing to a proper succulence a goose, a turkey, or a pheasant; but -a chine of beef roasted in her oven was like no chine of beef at any -other ordinary; she could perform miracles with marrow-bones; and -she could so dissemble the umbles of venison in a pasty as to render -it a dish fit for a prince’s table. Upon these talents was her solid -prosperity erected. She possessed, further--as became the mother of -six sturdy children of assorted paternity--a discerning eye for a -fine figure of a man. I am prepared to believe that in this matter -her judgment was no whit inferior to that which enabled her, as she -boasted, to determine at a glance the weight and age of a capon. - -It was to this fact--although he was very far from suspecting it--that -Colonel Holles owed the good fortune of having lodged in luxury for the -past month without ever a reckoning asked or so much as a question on -the subject of his means. The circumstance may have exercised him. I do -not know. But I know that it should have done so. For his exterior--his -fine figure apart--was not of the kind that commands credit. - -Mrs. Quinn had assigned to his exclusive use a cosy little parlour -behind the common room. On the window-seat of this little parlour he -now lounged, whilst Mrs. Quinn herself--and the day was long past in -which it had been her need or habit with her own plump hands to perform -so menial an office--removed from the table the remains of his very -solid breakfast. - -The lattice, of round, leaded panes of greenish, wrinkled glass, stood -open to the sunlit garden and the glory of cherry trees that were -belatedly in blossom. From one of these a thrush was pouring forth a -_Magnificat_ to the spring. The thrush, like Mrs. Quinn, concentrated -his attention upon life’s essentials, and was glad to live. Not so -Colonel Holles. He was a man caught and held fast in the web of life’s -complexities. It was to be seen in his listless attitude; in the -upright deep line of care that graved itself between his brows, in the -dreamy wistfulness of his grey eyes, as he lounged there, shabbily -clad, one leg along the leather-cushioned window-seat, pulling vacantly -at his long clay pipe. - -Observing him furtively, with a furtiveness, indeed, that was almost -habitual to her, Mrs. Quinn pursued her task, moving between table and -sideboard, and hesitated to break in upon his abstraction. She was -a woman on the short side of middle height, well hipped and deep of -bosom, but not excessively. The phrase “plump as a partridge” might -have been invented to describe her. In age she cannot have been much -short of forty, and whilst not without a certain homely comeliness, -in no judgment but her own could she have been accounted beautiful. -Very blue of eye and very ruddy of cheek, she looked the embodiment of -health; and this rendered her not unpleasing. But the discerning would -have perceived greed in the full mouth with its long upper lip, and sly -cunning--Nature’s compensation to low intelligences--in her vivid eyes. - -It remains, however, that she was endowed with charms enough of person -and of fortune to attract Coleman, the bookseller from the corner of -Paul’s Yard, and Appleby, the mercer from Paternoster Row. She might -marry either of them when she pleased. But she did not please. Her -regard for essentials rendered the knock-knees of Appleby as repulsive -to her as the bow-legs of Coleman. Moreover, certain adventitious -associations with the great world--to which her assorted offspring bore -witness--had begotten in her a fastidiousness of taste that was not -to be defiled by the touch of mercers and booksellers. Of late, it -is true, the thought of marriage had been engaging her. She realized -that the age of adventure touched its end for her, and that the time -had come to take a life companion and settle soberly. Yet not on -that account would Martha Quinn accept the first comer. She was in a -position to choose. Fifteen years of good management, prosperity, and -thrift at the Paul’s Head had made her wealthy. When she pleased she -could leave Paul’s Yard, acquire a modest demesne in the country, and -become one of the ladies of the land, a position for which she felt -herself eminently qualified. That which her birth might lack, that in -which her birth might have done poor justice to her nature, a husband -could supply. Often of late had her cunning blue eyes been narrowed in -mental review of this situation. What she required for her purposes was -a gentleman born and bred whom fortune had reduced in circumstances and -who would, therefore, be modest in the matter of matrimonial ambitions. -He must also be a proper man. - -Such a man she had found at last in Colonel Holles. From the moment -when a month ago he strode into her inn followed by an urchin -shouldering his valise and packages, and delivered himself upon his -immediate needs, she had recognized him for the husband she sought, and -marked him for her own. At a glance she had appraised him; the tall, -soldierly figure, broad to the waist, thence spare to the ground; the -handsome face, shaven like a Puritan’s, yet set between clusters of -gold-brown hair thick as a cavalier’s periwig, the long pear-shaped -ruby--a relic, no doubt, of more prosperous days--dangling from his -right ear; the long sword upon whose pummel his left hand rested with -the easy grace of long habit; the assured poise, the air of command, -the pleasant yet authoritative voice. All this she observed with those -vivid, narrowing eyes of hers. And she observed, too, the gentleman’s -discreditable shabbiness: the frayed condition of his long boots, the -drooping, faded feather in his Flemish beaver, the well-rubbed leather -jerkin, worn, no doubt, to conceal the threadbare state of the doublet -underneath. These very signs which might have prompted another hostess -to give our gentleman a guarded welcome urged Mrs. Quinn at once to -throw wide her arms to him, metaphorically at present that she might do -so literally anon. - -At a glance she knew him, then, for the man of her dreams, guided to -her door by that Providence to whose beneficence she already owed so -much. - -He had business in town, he announced--at Court, he added. It might -detain him there some little while. He required lodgings perhaps for a -week, perhaps for longer. Could she provide them? - -She could, indeed, for a week, and at need for longer. Mentally she -registered the resolve that it should be for longer; that, if she knew -her man and herself at all, it should be for life. - -And so at this handsome, down-at-heel gentleman’s disposal she had -placed not only the best bedroom abovestairs, but also the little -parlour hung in grey linsey-woolsey and gilded leather, which -overlooked the garden and which normally she reserved for her own -private use; and the Paul’s Head had awakened to such activity at -his coming as might have honoured the advent of a peer of the realm. -Hostess and drawer and chambermaid had bestirred themselves to -anticipate his every wish. The cook had been flung into the street -for overgrilling the luscious marrow-bones that had provided his -first breakfast, and the chambermaid’s ears had been soundly boxed -for omission to pass the warming-pan through the Colonel’s bed to -ensure of its being aired. And although it was now a full month since -his arrival, and in all that time our gentleman had been lavishly -entertained upon the best meat and drink the Paul’s Head could offer, -yet in all that time there had been--I repeat--neither mention of a -reckoning, nor question of his means to satisfy it. - -At first he had protested against the extravagance of the -entertainment. But his protests had been laughed aside with -good-humoured scorn. His hostess knew a gentleman when she saw one, -he was assured, and knew how a gentleman should be entertained. -Unsuspicious of the designs upon him, he never dreamed that the heavy -debt he was incurring was one of the coils employed by this cunning -huntress in which to bind him. - -Her housewifely operations being ended at last--after a prolongation -which could be carried to no further lengths--she overcame her -hesitation to break in upon his thoughts, which must be gloomy, indeed, -if his countenance were a proper index. Nothing could have been more -tactful than her method, based upon experience of the Colonel’s -phenomenal thirst, which, at all times unquenchable, must this morning -have been further sharpened by the grilled herrings which had formed a -part of his breakfast. - -As she addressed him now, she held in her hand the long pewter vessel -from which he had taken his morning draught. - -“Is there aught ye lack for your comfort, Colonel?” - -He stirred, turned his head, to face her, and took the pipestem from -between his lips. - -“Nothing, I thank you,” he answered, with a gravity that had been -growing upon him in the last fortnight, to overcloud the earlier -good-humour of his bearing. - -“What--nothing?” The buxom siren’s ruddy face was creased in an -alluring smile. Aloft now she held the tankard, tilting her still -golden head. “Not another draught of October before you go forth?” she -coaxed him. - -As he looked at her now, he smiled. And it has been left on record by -one who knew him well that his smile was irresistible, a smile that -could always win him the man or woman upon whom he bestowed it. It had -a trick of breaking suddenly upon a face that in repose was wistful, -like sunshine breaking suddenly from a grey sky. - -“I vow you spoil me,” said he. - -She beamed upon him. “Isn’t that the duty of a proper hostess?” - -She set the tankard on the laden tray and bore it out with her. When -she brought it back replenished, and placed it on a coffin-stool beside -him, he had changed his attitude, but not his mood of thoughtfulness. -He roused himself to thank her. - -She hovered near until he had taken a pull of the brown October. - -“Do you go forth this morning?” - -“Aye,” he answered, but wearily, as if reduced to hopelessness. “They -told me I should find his grace returned to-day. But they have told me -the same so often already, that....” He sighed, and broke off, leaving -his doubts implied. “I sometimes wonder if they but make game of me.” - -“Make game of you!” Horror stressed her voice. “When the Duke is your -friend!” - -“Ah! But that was long ago. And men change ... amazingly sometimes.” -Then he cast off the oppression of his pessimism. “But if there’s to -be war, surely there will be commands in which to employ a practised -soldier--especially one who has experience of the enemy, experience -gained in the enemy’s own service.” It was as if he uttered aloud his -thoughts. - -She frowned at this. Little by little in the past month she had drawn -from him some essential part of his story, and although he had been far -from full in his confidences, yet she had gleaned enough to persuade -herself that a reason existed why he should never reach this duke upon -whom he depended for military employment. And in that she had taken -comfort; for, as you surmise, it was no part of her intention that he -should go forth to the wars again, and so be lost to her. - -“I marvel now,” said she, “that you will be vexing yourself with such -matters.” - -He looked at her. “A man must live,” he explained. - -“But that’s no reason why he should go to the wars and likely die. -Hasn’t there been enough o’ that in your life already? At your age a -man’s mind should be on other things.” - -“At my age?” He laughed a little. “I am but thirty-five.” - -She betrayed her surprise. “You look more.” - -“Perhaps I have lived more. I have been very busy.” - -“Trying to get yourself killed. Don’t it occur to you that the time has -come to be thinking o’ something else?” - -He gave her a mildly puzzled glance, frowning a little. - -“You mean?” - -“That it’s time ye thought o’ settling, taking a wife and making a home -and a family.” - -The tone she adopted was one of commonplace, good-humoured kindliness. -But her breathing had quickened a little, and her face had lost some of -its high colour in the excitement of thus abruptly coming to grips with -her subject. - -He stared a moment blankly, then shrugged and laughed. - -“Excellent advice,” said he, still laughing on a note of derision that -obviously was aimed at himself. “Find me a lady who is well endowed and -yet so little fastidious in her tastes that she could make shift with -such a husband as I should afford her, and the thing is done.” - -“Now there I vow you do yourself injustice.” - -“Faith, it’s a trick I’ve learnt from others.” - -“You are, when all is said, a very proper man.” - -“Aye! But proper for what?” - -She pursued her theme without pausing to answer his frivolous question. -“And there’s many a woman of substance who needs a man to care for her -and guard her--such a man as yourself, Colonel; one who knows his world -and commands a worthy place in it.” - -“I command that, do I? On my soul you give me news of myself.” - -“If ye don’t command it, it is that ye lack the means, perhaps. But the -place is yours by right.” - -“By what right, good hostess?” - -“By the right of your birth and breeding and military rank, which is -plain upon you. Sir, why will you be undervaluing yourself? The means -that would enable you to take your proper place would be provided by -the wife who would be glad to share it with you.” - -He shook his head, and laughed again. - -“Do you know of such a lady?” - -She paused before replying, pursing her full lips, pretending to -consider, that thus she might dissemble her hesitation. - -There was more in that hesitation than either of them could have come -near imagining. Indeed, his whole destiny was in it. Upon such light -things do human fates depend that had she now taken the plunge, and -offered herself as she intended--instead of some ten days later, as -eventually happened--although his answer would have varied nothing from -what it ultimately was, yet the whole stream of his life would have -been diverted into other channels, and his story might never have been -worth telling. - -Because her courage failed her at this moment, Destiny pursued the -forging of that curious chain of circumstance which it is my task to -reveal to you link by link. - -“I think,” she said slowly at last, “that I should not be sorely put to -it to find her. I ... I should not have far to seek.” - -“It is a flattering conviction. Alas, ma’am, I do not share it.” He -was sardonic. He made it clear that he refused to take the matter -seriously, that with him it never could be more than a peg for jests. -He rose, smiling a little crookedly. “Therefore I’ll still pin my -hopes to his grace of Albemarle. They may be desperate; but, faith, -they’re none so desperate as hopes of wedlock.” He took up his sword -as he spoke, passing the baldric over his head and settling it on his -shoulder. Then he reached for his hat, Mrs. Quinn regarding him the -while in mingling wistfulness and hesitation. - -At last she roused herself, and sighed. - -“We shall see; we shall see. Maybe we’ll talk of it again.” - -“Not if you love me, delectable matchmaker,” he protested, turning to -depart. - -Solicitude for his immediate comfort conquered all other considerations -in her. - -“You’ll not go forth without another draught to ... to fortify you.” - -She had possessed herself again of the empty tankard. He paused and -smiled. “I may need fortifying,” he confessed, thinking of all the -disappointment that had waited upon his every previous attempt to see -the Duke. “You think of everything,” he praised her. “You are not Mrs. -Quinn of the Paul’s Head, you are benign Fortune pouring gifts from an -inexhaustible cornucopia.” - -“La, sir!” she laughed, as she bustled out. It would be wrong to say -that she did not understand him; for she perfectly understood that he -paid her some high and flowery compliment, which was what she most -desired of him as an earnest of better things to follow. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -ALBEMARLE’S ANTECHAMBER - - -Through the noisy bustle of Paul’s Yard the Colonel took his way, -his ears deafened by the “What d’ye lack?” of the bawling prentices -standing before The Flower of Luce, The White Greyhound, The Green -Dragon, The Crown, The Red Bull, and all the other signs that -distinguished the shops in that long array, among which the booksellers -were predominant. He moved with a certain arrogant, swaggering -assurance, despite his shabby finery. His Flemish beaver worn at a -damn-me cock, his long sword thrust up behind by the hand that rested -upon the pummel, his useless spurs--which a pot-boy at the Paul’s -Head had scoured to a silvery brightness--providing martial music to -his progress. A certain grimness that invested him made the wayfarers -careful not to jostle him. In that throng of busy, peaceful citizens -he was like a wolf loping across a field of sheep; and those whom he -met made haste to give him the wall, though it should entail thrusting -themselves or their fellows into the filth of the kennel. - -Below Ludgate, in that evil valley watered by the Fleet Ditch, there -were hackney-coaches in plenty, and, considering the distance which -he must go and the desirability of coming to his destination cleanly -shod, Colonel Holles was momentarily tempted. He resisted, however; -and this was an achievement in one who had never sufficiently studied -that most essential of the arts of living. He bethought him--and sighed -wearily over the reflection--of the alarming lightness of his purse and -the alarming heaviness of his score at the Paul’s Head, where he had -so culpably lacked the strength of mind to deny himself any of those -luxuries with which in the past month he had been lavished, and for -which, should Albemarle fail him in the end, he knew not how to pay. -This reflection contained an exaggeration of his penury. There was that -ruby in his ear, a jewel that being converted into gold should keep a -man in ease for the best part of a twelvemonth. For fifteen years and -through many a stress of fortune it had hung and glowed there amid -his clustering gold-brown hair. Often had hunger itself urged him to -sell the thing that he might fill his belly. Yet ever had reluctance -conquered him. He attached to that bright gem a sentimental value -that had become a superstition. There had grown up in his mind the -absolute conviction that this jewel, the gift of an unknown whose life -he had arrested on the black threshold of eternity, was a talisman -and something more--that, as it had played a part in the fortunes of -another, so should it yet play a part in the fortunes of himself and -of that other jointly. There abode with him the unconquerable feeling -that this ruby was a bond between himself and that unknown, a lodestone -that should draw each to the other ultimately across a whole world of -obstacles and that the meeting should be mutually fateful. - -There were times when, reviewing the thing more soberly, he laughed -at his crazy belief. Yet, oddly enough, those were never the times in -which dire necessity drove him to contemplate its sale. So surely as he -came to consider that, so surely did the old superstition, begotten of -and steadily nourished by his fancy, seize upon him to bid him hold his -hand and suffer all but death before thus purchasing redemption. - -Therefore was it that, as he took his way now up Fleet Hill, he left -that jewel out of his calculations in his assessment of his utterly -inadequate means. - -Westward through the mire of the Strand he moved, with his swinging -soldierly stride, and so, by Charing Cross, at last into Whitehall -itself. Down this he passed towards the chequered embattled Cockpit -Gate that linked one side of the palace with the other. - -It was close upon noon, and that curial thoroughfare was more than -ordinarily thronged, the war with Holland--now an accomplished -fact--being responsible for the anxious, feverish bustle hereabouts. -Adown its middle moved a succession of coaches to join the cluster -gathered about the Palace Gate and almost blocking the street from one -row of bourne posts to the other. - -Opposite the Horse Guards the Colonel came to a momentary halt on the -skirts of a knot of idlers, standing at gaze to observe the workmen -on the palace roof who were engaged in erecting there a weather-vane. -A gentleman whom he questioned informed him that this was for the -convenience of the Lord High Admiral, the Duke of York, so that his -grace might observe from his windows how the wind served the plaguey -Dutch fleet which was expected now to leave the Texel at any hour. The -Lord Admiral, it was clear, desired to waste no unnecessary time upon -the quarter-deck. - -Colonel Holles moved on, glancing across at the windows of the -banqueting-house, whence, as a lad of twenty, a cornet of horse, some -sixteen years ago, he had seen the late King step forth into the -sunlight of a crisp January morning to suffer the loss of his head. -And perhaps he remembered that his own father, long since dead--and -so beyond the reach of any Stuart vengeance--had been one of the -signatories of the warrant under which that deed was done. - -He passed on, from the sunlight into the shadow of Holbein’s noble -gateway, and then, emerging beyond, he turned to his right, past the -Duke of Monmouth’s lodging into the courtyard of the Cockpit, where the -Duke of Albemarle had his residence. Here his lingering doubt on the -score of whether his grace were yet returned to Town was set at rest by -the bustle in which he found himself. But there remained another doubt; -which was whether his grace, being now returned, would condescend -to receive him. Six times in the course of the past four weeks had -he vainly sought admission. On three of those occasions he had been -shortly answered that his grace was out of Town; on one of them--the -last--more circumstantially that his grace was at Portsmouth about -the business of the fleet. Twice it was admitted--and he had abundant -evidences, as now--that the Duke was at home and receiving; but the -Colonel’s shabbiness had aroused the mistrust of the ushers, and they -had barred his way to ask him superciliously was he commanded by the -Duke. Upon his confession that he was not, they informed him that the -Duke was over-busy to receive any but those whom he had commanded, -and they bade him come again some other day. He had not imagined that -George Monk would be so difficult of access, remembering his homely -republican disregard of forms in other days. But being twice repulsed -from his threshold in this fashion, he had taken the precaution of -writing before presenting himself now, begging his grace to give orders -that he should be admitted, unless he no longer held a place in his -grace’s memory. - -The present visit, therefore, was fateful. A refusal now he must regard -as final, in which case he would be left to curse the impulse that had -brought him back to England, where it was very likely he would starve. - -A doorkeeper with a halbert barred his progress on the threshold. “Your -business, sir?” - -“Is with His Grace of Albemarle.” The Colonel’s tone was sharp and -confident. Thanks to this the next question was less challengingly -delivered. - -“You are commanded, sir?” - -“I have reason to believe I am awaited. His grace is apprised of my -coming.” - -The doorkeeper looked him over again, and then made way. - -He was past the outer guard, and his hopes rose. But at the end of a -long gallery a wooden-faced usher confronted him, and the questions -recommenced. When Holles announced that he had written to beg an -audience-- - -“Your name, sir?” the usher asked. - -“Randal Holles.” He spoke it softly with a certain inward dread, -suddenly aware that such a name could be no password in Whitehall, for -it had been his father’s name before him--the name of a regicide, and -something more. - -There was an abundance of foolish, sensational, and mythical stories -which the popular imagination had woven about the execution of King -Charles I. The execution of a king was a portent, and there never yet -was a portent that did not gather other portents to be its satellites. -Of these was the groundless story that the official headsman was -missing on the day of the execution because he dared not strike off the -head of God’s anointed, and that the headsman’s mask had covered the -face of one who at the last moment had offered himself to act as his -deputy. The identity of this deputy had been fastened upon many more or -less well-known men, but most persistently upon Randal Holles, for no -better reason than because his stern and outspoken republicanism had -been loosely interpreted by the populace as personal rancour towards -King Charles. Therefore, and upon no better ground than that of this -idle story, the name of Randal Holles bore, in those days of monarchy -restored, the brand of a certain infamous notoriety. - -It produced, however, no fearful effect upon the usher. Calmly, -mechanically repeating it, the fellow consulted a sheet of paper. -Then, at last, his manner changed. It became invested by a certain -obsequiousness. Clearly he had found the name upon his list. He opened -the studded door of which he was the guardian. - -“If you will be pleased to enter, sir....” he murmured. - -Colonel Holles swaggered in, the usher following. - -“If you will be pleased to wait, sir....” The usher left him, and -crossed the room, presumably to communicate his name to yet another -usher, a clerkly fellow with a wand, who kept another farther door. - -The Colonel disposed himself to wait, sufficiently uplifted to practise -great lengths of patience. He found himself in a lofty, sparsely -furnished antechamber, one of a dozen or more clients, all of them men -of consequence if their dress and carriage were to be taken at surface -value. - -Some turned to look askance at this down-at-heel intruder; but not for -long. There was that in the grey eyes of Colonel Holles when returning -such looks as these which could put down the haughtiest stare. He knew -his world and its inhabitants too well to be moved by them either to -respect or fear. Those were the only two emotions none had the power to -arouse in him. - -Having met their insolence by looking at them as they might look at -pot-boys, he strode across to an empty bench that was ranged against -the carved wainscoting, and sat himself down with a clatter. - -The noise he made drew the attention of two gentlemen who stood near -the bench in conversation. One of these, whose back was towards Holles, -glanced round upon him. He was tall, and elderly, with a genial, ruddy -countenance. The other, a man of about Holles’s own age, was short -and sturdily built with a swarthy face set in a heavy black periwig, -dressed with a certain foppish care, and of a manner that blended -amiability with a degree of self sufficiency. He flashed upon Holles -a pair of bright blue eyes that were, however, without hostility or -disdain, and, although unknown to the Colonel, he slightly inclined his -head to him in formal, dignified salutation, almost as if asking leave -to resume his voluble conversation within this newcomer’s hearing. - -Scraps of that conversation floated presently to the Colonel’s ears. - -“ ... and I tell you, Sir George, that his grace is mightily off the -hooks at all this delay. That is why he hurried away to Portsmouth, -that by his own presence he might order things....” The pleasant voice -grew inaudible to rise again presently. “The need is all for officers, -men trained in war....” - -The Colonel pricked up his ears at that. But the voice had dropped -again, and he could not listen without making it obvious that he did -so, until the speaker’s tones soared once more. - -“These ardent young gentlemen are well enough, and do themselves great -credit by their eagerness, but in war....” - -Discreetly, to the Colonel’s vexation, the gentleman again lowered his -voice. He was inaudibly answered by his companion, and it was some time -before Holles heard another word of what passed between them. By then -the conversation had veered a point. - -“ ...and there the talk was all of the Dutch ... that the fleet is -out.” The sturdy, swarthy gentleman was speaking. “That and these -rumours of the plague growing upon us in the Town--from which may God -preserve us!--are now almost the only topics.” - -“Almost. But not quite,” the elder man broke in, laughing. “There’s -something else I’d not have expected you to forget; this Farquharson -girl at the Duke’s House.” - -“Sir George, I confess the need for your correction. I should not have -forgotten. That she shares the public tongue with such topics as the -war and the plague best shows the deep impression she has made.” - -“Deservedly?” Sir George asked the question as of one who was an -authority in such matters. - -“Oh, most deservedly, be assured. I was at the Duke’s House two days -since, and saw her play Katherine. And mightily pleased I was. I -cannot call to mind having seen her equal in the part, or indeed upon -the stage at all. And so thinks the Town. For though I came there by -two o’clock, yet there was no room in the pit, and I was forced to -pay four shillings to go into one of the upper boxes. The whole house -was mightily pleased with her, too, and in particular His Grace of -Buckingham. He spoke his praises from his box so that all might hear -him, and vowed he would not rest until he had writ a play for her, -himself.” - -“If to write a play for her be the only earnest his grace will afford -her of his admiration, then is Miss Farquharson fortunate.” - -“Or else unfortunate,” said the sturdy gentleman with a roguish look. -“’Tis all a question of how the lady views these matters. But let us -hope she is virtuous.” - -“I never knew you unfriendly to his grace before,” replied Sir George, -whereupon both laughed. And then the other, sinking his voice once more -to an inaudible pitch, added matter at which Sir George’s laughter grew -until it shook him. - -They were still laughing, when the door of Albemarle’s room opened -to give exit to a slight gentleman with flushed cheeks. Folding a -parchment as he went, the gentleman crossed the antechamber, stepping -quickly and bestowing nods in his passage, and was gone. As he vanished -at one door, the usher with the wand made his appearance at the other. - -“His grace will be pleased to receive Mr. Pepys.” - -The swarthy, sturdy gentleman cast off the remains of his laughter, and -put on a countenance of gravity. - -“I come,” he said. “Sir George, you’ll bear me company.” His tone -blended invitation and assertion. His tall companion bowed, and -together they went off, and passed into the Duke’s room. - -Colonel Holles leaned back against the wainscoting, marvelling that -with war upon them--to say nothing of the menace of the plague--the -Town should be concerned with the affairs of a playhouse wanton; and -that here, in the very temple of Bellona, Mr. Pepys of the Navy Office -should submerge in such bawdy matters the grave question of the lack of -officers and the general unpreparedness to combat either the Dutch or -the pestilence. - -He was still pondering that curious manifestation of the phenomenon of -the human mind, and the odd methods of government which the restored -Stuarts had brought back to England, when Mr. Pepys and his companion -came forth again, and he heard the voice of the usher calling his own -name. - -“Mr. Holles!” - -Partly because of his abstraction, partly because of the omission of -his military title, it was not until the call had been repeated that -the Colonel realized that it was addressed to himself and started up. - -Those who had stared askance at him on his first coming, stared again -now in resentment to see themselves passed over for this out-at-elbow -ruffler. There were some sneering laughs and nudges, and one or two -angry exclamations. But Holles paid no heed. Fortune at last had opened -a door to him. Of this the hope that he had nourished was swollen to a -certainty by one of the things he had overheard from the voluble Mr. -Pepys. Officers were needed; men of experience in the trade of arms -were scarce. Men of his own experience were rare, and Albemarle, who -had the dispensing of these gifts, was well acquainted with his worth. -That was the reason why he was being given precedence of all these fine -gentlemen left in the antechamber to cool their heels a while longer. - -Eagerly he went forward. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -HIS GRACE OF ALBEMARLE - - -At a vast writing-table placed in the middle of a lofty, sunny room, -whose windows overlooked St. James’s Park, sat George Monk, K.G., Baron -Monk of Potheridge, Beauchamp, and Tees, Earl of Torrington and Duke -of Albemarle, Master of the Horse, Commander-in-Chief, a member of His -Majesty’s Privy Council, and a Gentleman of the Bedchamber. - -It was a great deal for a man to be, and yet George Monk--called -a trimmer by his enemies and “honest George” by the majority of -Englishmen--might conceivably have been more. Had he so willed it, he -might have been King of England, whereby it is impossible that he could -have served his country worse than by the restoration of the Stuart -dynasty, which he preferred to effect. - -He was a man of middle height, powerfully built, but inclining now, in -his fifty-seventh year, to portliness. He was of a dark complexion, not -unhandsome, the strength of his mouth tempered by the gentleness of his -short-sighted eyes. His great head, covered by a heavy black periwig, -reared itself upon too short a neck from his massive shoulders. - -As Holles entered, he looked up, threw down his pen, and rose, but -slowly, as if weighted by hesitation or surprise. Surprise was -certainly the expression on his face as he stood there observing -the other’s swift, eager advance. No word was uttered until no more -than the table stood between them, and then it was to the usher that -Albemarle addressed himself, shortly, in dismissal. - -He followed the man’s withdrawal with his eyes, nor shifted them again -to his visitor until the door had closed. Then abruptly concern came to -blend with the surprise still abiding in his face, and he held out a -hand to the Colonel whom this reception had a little bewildered. Holles -bethought him that circumspection had ever been George Monk’s dominant -characteristic. - -“God save us, Randal! Is it really you?” - -“Have ten years wrought such changes that you need to ask?” - -“Ten years!” said the Duke slowly, a man bemused. “Ten years!” he said -again, and his gentle almost sorrowing eyes scanned his visitor from -foot to crown. His grip of the Colonel’s hand tightened a moment. Then -abruptly, as if at a loss, or perhaps to dissemble the extent to which -he was affected by this meeting, “But sit, man, sit,” he urged, waving -him to the armchair set at the table so as to face the Duke’s own. - -Holles sat down, hitching his sword-hilt forward, and placing his hat -upon the floor. The Duke resumed his seat with the same slowness with -which he had lately risen from it, his eyes the while upon his visitor. - -“How like your father you are grown!” he said at last. - -“That will be something gained, where all else is but a tale of loss.” - -“Aye! You bear it writ plain upon you,” the Duke sadly agreed, and -again there broke from him that plaintive, “God save us!” - -Randal Holles the elder had been Monk’s dearest friend. Both natives -of Potheridge in Devon, they had grown to manhood together. And though -political opinions then divided them--for Monk was a King’s man in -those far-off days, whilst the older Holles had gone to Parliament a -republican--yet their friendship had remained undiminished. When Monk -at last in ’46 accepted a command from Cromwell in the Irish service, -it was the influence of Holles which had procured both the offer and -its acceptance. Later, when Holles the younger decided for the trade of -arms, it was under the ægis of Monk that he had taken service, and it -was due as much to Monk’s friendship as to his own abilities that he -had found himself a Captain after Dunbar and a Colonel after Worcester. -Had he but chosen to continue under the guidance of his father’s -friend, he might to-day have found himself in very different case. - -The thought was so uppermost now in the Duke’s mind that he could not -repress its utterance. - -Holles sighed. “Do I not know it? But....” He broke off. “The answer -makes a weary story and a long one. By your leave, let us neglect it. -Your grace has had my letter. That is plain, since I am here. Therefore -you are acquainted with my situation.” - -“It grieved me, Randal, more deeply, I think, than anything I can -remember. But why did you not write sooner? Why did you come vainly -knocking at my door to be turned away by lackeys?” - -“I had not realized how inaccessible you are grown.” - -The Duke’s glance sharpened. “Do you say that bitterly?” - -Holles almost bounded from his seat. “Nay--on my soul! I vow I am -incapable of that, however low I may have come. What you have, you have -earned. I rejoice in your greatness as must every man who loves you.” -With mock cynicism as if to cover up any excessive emotion he might -have used, he added: “I must, since it is now my only hope. Shorn of it -I might as well cast myself from London Bridge.” - -The Duke considered him in silence for a moment. - -“We must talk,” he said presently. “There is much to say.” And, in his -abrupt fashion, he added the question: “You’ll stay to dine?” - -“That is an invitation I’d not refuse even from an enemy.” - -His grace tinkled a little silver bell. The usher appeared. - -“Who waits in the anteroom?” - -Came from the usher a string of names and titles, all of them -distinguished, some imposing. - -“Say to them with my regrets that I can receive none before I dine. Bid -those whose business presses to seek me again this afternoon.” - -As the usher removed himself, Holles lay back in his chair and laughed. -The Duke frowned inquiry, almost anxiously. - -“I am thinking of how they stared upon me, and how they’ll stare next -time we meet. Forgive me that I laugh at trifles. It is almost the only -luxury I am still able to afford.” - -Albemarle nodded gloomily. If he possessed a sense of humour, he very -rarely betrayed the fact, which is possibly why Mr. Pepys, who loved a -laugh, has written him down a heavy man. - -“Tell me now,” he invited, “what is the reason of your coming home?” - -“The war. Could I continue in Dutch service, even if the Dutch had -made it possible, which they did not? For the last three months it -has been impossible for an Englishman to show his face in the streets -of The Hague without being subjected to insult. If he were so rash -as to resent and punish it, he placed himself at the mercy of the -authorities, which were never reluctant to make an example of him. -That is one reason. The other is that England is in danger, that she -needs the sword of her every son, and in such a pass should be ready -to afford me employment. You need officers, I learn--experienced -officers....” - -“That’s true enough, God knows!” Albemarle interrupted him, on a note -of bitterness. “My anteroom is thronged with young men of birth who -come to me commended by the Duke of This and the Earl of That, and -sometimes by His Majesty himself, for whom I am desired to provide -commissions that will enable these graceful bawcocks to command their -betters....” He broke off, perceiving, perhaps, that his feelings were -sweeping him beyond the bounds of his usual circumspection. “But, as -you say,” he ended presently, “of experienced officers there is a sorry -lack. Yet that is not a circumstance upon which you are warranted to -build, my friend.” - -Holles stared blankly. “How ...?” he was beginning, when Albemarle -resumed, at once explaining his own words and answering the unspoken -question. - -“If you think that even in this hour of need there is no employment -for such men as you in England’s service,” he said gravely, in his -slow, deep voice, “you can have no knowledge of what has been happening -here whilst you have been abroad. In these past ten years, Randal, I -have often thought you might be dead. And I ask myself, all things -being as they are, whether as your friend I have cause, real cause, to -rejoice at seeing you alive. For life to be worth living must be lived -worthily, by which I mean it must signify the performance of the best -that is in a man. And how shall you perform your best here in this -England?” - -“How?” Holles was aghast. “Afford me but the occasion, and I will -show you. I have it in me still. I swear it. Test me, and you shall -not be disappointed. I’ll do you no discredit.” He had risen in his -excitement. He had even paled a little, and he stood now before the -Duke, tense, challenging, a faint quiver in the sensitive nostrils of -his fine nose. - -Albemarle’s phlegm was undisturbed by the vehemence. With a sallow -fleshly hand, he waved the Colonel back to his chair. - -“I nothing doubt it. I ask no questions of how you have spent the -years. I can see for myself that they have been ill-spent, even without -the hints of your letter. That does not weigh with me. I know your -nature, and it is a nature I would trust. I know your talents, partly -from the early promise that you showed, partly from the opinion held -of you at one time in Holland. That surprises you, eh? Oh, but I keep -myself informed of what is happening in the world. It was Opdam, I -think, who reported you ‘_vir magna belli peritia_.’” He paused, and -sighed. “God knows I need such men as you, need them urgently; and I -would use you thankfully. But....” - -“But what, sir? In God’s name!” - -The heavy, pursed lips parted again, the raised black eyebrows resumed -their level. “I cannot do so without exposing you to the very worst of -dangers.” - -“Dangers?” Holles laughed. - -“I see that you do not understand. You do not realize that you bear a -name inscribed on a certain roll of vengeance.” - -“You mean my father’s?” The Colonel was incredulous. - -“Your father’s--aye. It is misfortunate he should have named you after -him. But there it is,” the deliberate, ponderous voice continued. “The -name of Randal Holles is on the warrant for the execution of the late -King. It would have provided a warrant for your father’s own death had -he lived long enough. Yourself you have borne arms for the Parliament -against our present sovereign. In England it is only by living in the -completest obscurity that you’ll be allowed to live at all. And you -ask me to give you a command, to expose you prominently to the public -gaze--to the royal eye and the royal memory, which in these matters is -unfading.” - -“But the act of indemnity?” cried Holles, aghast, seeing his high hopes -crumbling into ashes. - -“Pshaw!” Albemarle’s lip curled a little. “Where have you lived at -all that you do not know what has befallen those whom it covered?” He -smiled grimly, shaking his great black head. “Never compel from a man -a promise he is loath to give. Such promises are never kept, however -fast you may bind them in legal bonds. I wrung the promise of that bill -from His Majesty whilst he was still a throneless wanderer. Whilst he -was at Breda I concerted with him and with Clarendon that there should -be four exceptions only from that bill. Yet when, after His Majesty’s -restoration, it was prepared, it left to Parliament such exceptions -as Parliament should deem proper. I saw the intention. I pleaded; I -argued; I urged the royal promise. Finally it was agreed that the -exceptions should be increased to seven. Reluctantly I yielded, -having no longer the power effectively to oppose a king _de facto_. -Yet when the bill came before the Commons--subservient to the royal -promptings--they named twenty exceptions, and the Lords went further -by increasing the exceptions to include all who had been concerned -in the late king’s trial and sundry others who had not. And that -was a bill of indemnity! It was followed by the King’s proclamation -demanding the surrender within fourteen days of all those who had been -concerned in his father’s death. The matter was represented as a mere -formality. Most were wise enough to mistrust it, and leave the country. -But a score obeyed, conceiving that they would escape with some light -punishment.” - -He paused a moment, sinking back into his chair. A little smile twisted -the lips of this man who had no sense of humour. - -“It was announced that those who had not surrendered were excluded from -the Bill of Indemnity, whilst, as for those who having surrendered -were to be supposed included in it, a loyal jury found a true bill -against them. They were tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. -Major-General Harrison was the first of them to suffer. He was -disembowelled over yonder at Charing Cross. Others followed, until the -people, nauseated by the spectacle provided daily, began to murmur. -Then a halt was called. There was a pause, at the end of which the -executioners began again. Nor were those sentenced in that year the -only ones. Others were indicted subsequently. Lambert and Vane were not -brought to trial until ’62. Nor were they the last. And it may be that -we have not reached the end even yet.” - -Again he paused, and again his tone changed, shedding its faint note of -bitterness. - -“I do not say these things--which I say for your ears alone here in -private--to censure, or even criticize, the actions of His Majesty. -It is not for a subject to question too narrowly the doings of his -King, particularly when that King is a son concerned to avenge what he -considers, rightly or wrongly, the murder of his father. I tell you all -this solely that you may understand how, despite my ardent wish to help -you, I dare not for your own sake help you in the way you desire, lest, -by bringing you, directly or indirectly, under His Majesty’s notice, I -should expose you to that vengeance which is not allowed to slumber. -Your name is Randal Holles, and....” - -“I could change my name,” the Colonel cried, on a sudden inspiration, -and waited breathlessly, whilst Albemarle considered. - -“There might still be some who knew you in the old days, who would be -but too ready to expose the deception.” - -“I’ll take the risk of that.” Holles laughed in his eagerness, in his -reaction from the hopelessness that had been settling upon him during -Albemarle’s lengthy exposition. “I’ve lived on risks.” - -The Duke eyed him gravely. “And I?” he asked. - -“You?” - -“I should be a party to that deception....” - -“So much need not transpire. You can trust me not to allow it.” - -“But I should be a party none the less.” Albemarle was graver than -ever, his accents more deliberate. - -Slowly the lines of Holles’s face returned to their habitual grim -wistfulness. - -“You see?” said the Duke sadly. - -But Holles did not wish to see. He shifted restlessly in his chair, -swinging at last to lean across the table towards the Duke. - -“But surely ... at such a time ... in the hour of England’s need ... -with war impending, and experienced officers to seek ... surely, there -would be some justification for....” - -Again Albemarle shook his head, his face grave and sad. - -“There can never be justification for deceit--for falsehood.” - -For a long moment they faced each other thus, Holles striving the while -to keep the despair from his face. Then slowly the Colonel sank back -into his chair. A moment he brooded, his eyes upon the polished floor, -then, with a little sigh, a little shrug, a little upward throw of the -hands, he reached for the hat that lay on the floor beside him. - -“In that case....” He paused to swallow something that threatened to -mar the steadiness of his voice, “ ... it but remains for me to take my -leave....” - -“No, no.” The Duke leaned across and set a restraining hand upon his -visitor’s arm. “We part not thus, Randal.” - -Holles looked at him, still inwardly struggling to keep his -self-control. He smiled a little, that sad irresistible smile of his. -“You, sir, are a man overweighted with affairs; the burden of a state -at war is on your shoulders, I....” - -“None the less you shall stay to dine.” - -“To dine?” said Holles, wondering where and when he should dine next, -for a disclosure of the state of his affairs must follow upon this -failure to improve them, and the luxury of the Paul’s Head could be his -no longer. - -“To dine, as you were bidden, and to renew acquaintance with her -grace.” Albemarle pushed back his chair, and rose. “She will be glad to -see you, I know. Come, then. The dinner hour is overpast already.” - -Slowly, still hesitating, Holles rose. His main desire was to be out -of this, away from Whitehall, alone with his misery. Yet in the end -he yielded, nor had occasion thereafter to regret it. Indeed, at the -outset her grace’s welcome of him warmed him. - -The massive, gaudy, untidy woman stared at him as he was led by -Albemarle into her presence. Then, slapping her thighs to mark her -amazement, up she bounced, and came rolling towards him. - -“As God’s my life, it’s Randal Holles!” she exclaimed. And hoisting -herself on tiptoe by a grip of his shoulders she resoundingly kissed -his cheek before he guessed her purpose. “It’s lucky for George he’s -brought you to excuse his lateness,” she added grimly. “Dinner’s been -standing this ten minutes, and cooling do spoil good meat. Come on. You -shall tell me at table what good fortune brings you.” - -She linked an arm through one of his, and led him away to their frugal -board, which Mr. Pepys--who loved the good things of this world--has -denounced as laden with dirty dishes and bad meat. It was certainly -not ducal, either in appurtenances or service. But then neither was -its hostess, nor could any human power have made her so. To the end -she was Nan Clarges, the farrier’s daughter and the farrier’s widow, -the sempstress who had been Monk’s mistress when he was a prisoner -in the Tower some twenty years ago, and whom--in an evil hour, as -was generally believed--he had subsequently married, to legitimize -their children. She counted few friends in the great world in which -her husband had his being, whilst those she may have counted in her -former station had long since passed beyond her ken. Therefore did she -treasure the more dearly the few--the very few--whom she had honoured -with that name. And of these was Randal Holles. Because of his deep -regard for Monk, and because of the easy good-nature that was his own, -he had in the early days of Monk’s marriage shown a proper regard for -Monk’s wife, treating with the deference due to her married station -an unfortunate woman who was smarting under the undisguised contempt -of the majority of her husband’s friends and associates. She had -cherished that deference and courtesy of Holles’s as only a woman in -her situation could, and the memory of it was ineffaceably impressed -upon her mind. - -Clarendon, who detested her as did so many, has damned her in a phrase: -“_Nihil muliebris præter corpus gerens._” Clarendon did not credit her -with a heart, under her gross, untidy female form, a woman’s heart as -quick to respond to hate as to affection. Holles could have enlightened -him. But, then, they never knew each other. - -The trivial, unconsidered good that we may do on our way through life -is often a seed from which we may reap richly anon in the hour of our -own need. - -This Holles was now discovering. She plied him with questions all -through her noisy feeding, until she had drawn from him, not only the -condition of his fortunes, but the reason of his return to England, the -hopes he had nourished, and her own husband’s wrecking of those hopes. -It put her in a rage. - -“God’s life!” she roared at her ducal lord and master. “You would ha’ -turned him like a beggar from the door? Him--Randal!” - -His grace, the dauntless, honest George Monk, who all his life had -trodden so firmly the path of rectitude, who feared no man, not even -excepting the King whom he had made, lowered his proud, grave eyes -before this termagant’s angry glance. He was a great soldier, as you -know. Single-handed once he had faced a mutinous regiment in Whitehall, -and quelled its insubordination by the fearless dominance of his -personality. But he went in a dread of his boisterous vulgar duchess -that was possibly greater than the dread in which any man had ever gone -of him. - -“You see, my love, according to my lights....” he was beginning -uneasily. - -“Your lights quotha!” she shrilled in scorn. “Mighty dim lights they -be, George, if you can’t see to help a friend by them.” - -“I might help him to the gallows,” he expostulated. “Have patience now, -and let me explain.” - -“I’ll need patience. God knows I shall! Well, man?” - -He smiled, gently, as if to show that he used gentleness from -disinclination to assert his mastery. As best he could, seeing that he -was subjected the while to a running fire of scornful interruptions, he -made clear the situation as already he had made it clear to Holles. - -“Lord, George!” she said, when he had finished, and her great red face -was blank. “You are growing old. You are not the man you was. You, a -kingmaker! La!” She withered him with her scorn. “Where are the wits -that helped King Charles Stuart back to his own? You wasn’t put off by -the first obstacle in they days. What would ye be without me, I ask -myself. It needs me to help ye see how ye can help a friend without -bringing him under notice of them as might do him a hurt.” - -“If you can do that, my dear....” - -“If I can? I’d ha’ my brains fried for supper if I couldn’t. I would -so--damme! For ’tis all they’d be good for. Is there no commands in -your bestowing but commands here at home?” - -His eyebrows flickered up, as if something in his mind responded to her -suggestion. - -“Are there no colonies to this realm of England? What of the -Indies--East and West? There’s a mort o’ them Indies, I know, whither -officers are forever being dispatched. Who’d trouble about Randal’s -name or story in one o’ they?” - -“Egad! ’Tis an idea!” The Duke looked at Holles, his glance -brightening. “What should you say to it, Randal?” - -“Is there a post for me out there?” quoth the Colonel eagerly. - -“At this very moment, no. But vacancies occur. Men die in those -outlandish parts, or weary of the life, or find the climate intolerable -and return. There are risks, of course, and....” - -Holles cut in briskly. “I have said that I have lived on risks. And -they’ll be less than those you represent as lying in wait for me here -at home. Oh, I’ll take the risks. Right gladly I’ll take the risks. -And I’ve little cause to be so wedded to the old world that I’d not -exchange it for the new.” - -“Why, then, we’ll see. A little patience, and it may be mine to offer -you some place abroad.” - -“Patience!” said Holles, his jaw fallen again. - -“Why, to be sure. After all, such posts do not grow like apples. Keep -me informed of where you are lodged, and I will send you word when the -occasion offers.” - -“And if he doesn’t send word soon do you come and see me again, -Randal,” said her grace; “we’ll quicken him. He’s well enough; but he’s -growing old, and his wits is sluggish.” - -And the great man, whose eye had daunted armies, smiled benignly upon -his termagant. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -CHERRY BLOSSOMS - - -Colonel Holles knelt on the window-seat at the open casement of -his parlour at the Paul’s Head. Leaning on the sill, he seemed to -contemplate the little sunlit garden with its two cherry trees on which -some of those belated blossoms lingered still. Cherry blossoms he was -contemplating, but not those before him. The two trees of this little -oasis in the City of London had multiplied themselves into a cherry -orchard set in Devon and in the years that were gone beyond reclaiming. - -The phenomenon was not new to him. Cherry blossoms had ever possessed -the power to move him thus. The contemplation of them never failed to -bring him the vision that was now spread before his wistful eyes. Mrs. -Quinn’s few perches of garden had dissolved into an acre of sunlit -flowering orchard. Above the trees in the background to the right a -spire thrust up into the blue, surmounted by a weather-vane in the -shape of a fish--which he vaguely knew to be an emblem of Christianity. -Through a gap on the left he beheld a wall, ivy-clad, crumbling at -its summit. Over this a lad was climbing stealthily--a long-limbed, -graceful, fair-haired stripling, whose features were recognizable for -his own if from the latter you removed the haggard lines that the years -and hard living had imprinted. Softly and nimbly as a cat he dropped -to earth on the wall’s hither side, and stood there half crouching, a -smile on his young lips and laughter in his grey eyes. He was watching -a girl who--utterly unconscious of his presence--swept to and fro -through the air on a swing that was formed of a single rope passed from -one tree to another. - -She was a child, no more; yet of a well-grown, lissom grace that -deceived folk into giving her more than the bare fifteen years she -counted to her age. Hers was no rose-and-lily complexion. She displayed -the healthy tan that comes of a life lived in the open far away from -cities. Yet one glance into the long-shaped, deeply blue eyes that were -the glory of her lovely little face sufficed to warn you that though -rustic she was not simple. Here was one who possessed a full share -of that feminine guile which is the heritage from Mother Eve to her -favoured daughters. If you were a man and wise, you would be most wary -when she was most demure. - -Swinging now, her loosened brown hair streamed behind her as she flew -forward, and tossed itself into a cloud about her face as she went -back. And she sang as nearly as possible in rhythm with her swinging: - - - “Hey, young love! Ho, young love! - Where do you tarry? - Whiles here I stay for you - Waiting to marry. - Hey, young love! Ho, young....” - - -The song ended in a scream. Unheard, unsuspected, the stripling had -crept forward through the trees. At the top of her backward swing -he had caught her about the waist in his strong young arms. There -was a momentary flutter of two black legs amid an agitated cloud of -petticoat, then the rope swung forward, and the nymph was left in the -arms of her young satyr. But only for a moment. Out of that grip she -broke in a fury--real or pretended--and came to earth breathless, with -flushed cheeks and flashing eye. - -“You give yourself strange liberties, young Randal,” said she, and -boxed his ears. “Who bade you here?” - -“I ... I thought you called me,” said he, grinning, no whit abashed by -either blow or look. “Come, now, Nan. Confess it!” - -“I called you? I?” She laughed indignantly. “’Tis very likely! Oh, very -likely!” - -“You’ll deny it, of course, being a woman in the making. But I heard -you.” And he quoted for her, singing: - - - “Hey, young love! Ho, young love! - Where do you tarry?” - - -“I was hiding on the other side of the wall. I came at once. And all -I get for my pains and the risk to a fairly new pair of breeches is a -blow and a denial.” - -“You may get more if you remain.” - -“I hope so. I had not come else.” - -“But it’ll be as little to your liking.” - -“That’s as may be. Meanwhile there’s this matter of a blow. Now a blow -is a thing I take from nobody. For a man there is my sword....” - -“Your sword!” She abandoned herself to laughter. “And you don’t even -own a penknife.” - -“Oh, yes I do. I own a sword. It was a gift from my father to-day--a -birthday gift. I am nineteen to-day, Nan.” - -“How fast you grow! You’ll be a man soon. And so your father has given -you a sword?” She leaned against the bole of a tree, and surveyed him -archly. “That was very rash of your father. You’ll be cutting yourself, -I know.” - -He smiled, but with a little less of his earlier assurance. But he made -a fair recovery. - -“You are straying from the point.” - -“The point of your sword, sweet sir?” - -“The point of my discourse. It was concerning this matter of a blow. If -you were a man I am afraid I should have to kill you. My honour would -demand no less.” - -“With your sword?” she asked him innocently. - -“With my sword, of course.” - -“Ugh. Jack the Giant-Killer in a cherry orchard! You must see you are -out of place here. Get you gone, boy. I don’t think I ever liked you, -Randal. Now I’m sure of it. You’re a bloody-minded fellow for all your -tender years. What you’ll be when you’re a man ... I daren’t think.” - -He swallowed the taunt. - -“And what you’ll be when you’re a woman is the thing I delight in -thinking. We’ll return to that. Meanwhile, this blow....” - -“Oh, you’re tiresome.” - -“You delay me. That is why. What I would do to a man who struck me I -have told you.” - -“But you can’t think I believe you.” - -This time he was not to be turned aside. - -“The real question is what to do to a woman.” He approached her. “When -I look at you, one punishment only seems possible.” - -He took her by the shoulders in a grip of a surprising firmness. There -was sudden alarm in those eyes of hers that hitherto had been so -mocking. - -“Randal!” she cried out, guessing his purpose. - -Undeterred he accomplished it. Having kissed her, he loosed his hold, -and stood back for the explosion which from his knowledge of her he -was led to expect. But no explosion came. She stood limply before him, -all the raillery gone out of her, whilst slowly the colour faded from -her cheeks. Then it came flowing back in an all-suffusing flood, and -there was a pathetic quiver at the corners of her mouth, a suspicious -brightness in her drooping eyes. - -“Why, Nan!” he cried, alarmed by phenomena so unexpected and unusual. - -“Oh, why did you do that?” she cried on a sob. - -Here was meekness! Had she boxed his ears again, it would have -surprised him not at all. Indeed, it is what he had looked for. But -that she should be stricken so spiritless, that she should have no -reproof for him beyond that plaintive question, left him agape with -amazement. It occurred to him that perhaps he had found the way to -tame her; and he regretted on every count that he should not have -had recourse before to a method so entirely satisfactory to himself. -Meanwhile her question craved an answer. - -“I’ve been wanting to do it this twelvemonth,” said he simply. “And I -shall want to do it again. Nan, dear, don’t you know how much I love -you? Don’t you know without my telling you? Don’t you?” - -The fervent question chased away her trouble and summoned surprise to -fill its place. A moment she stared at him, and her glance hardened. -She began to show signs of recovery. - -“The declaration should have preceded the ... the ... affront.” - -“Affront!” he cried, in protest. - -“What else? Isn’t it an affront to kiss a maid without a by-your-leave? -If you were a man, I shouldn’t forgive you. I couldn’t. But as you’re -just a boy”--her tone soared to disdainful heights--“you shall be -forgiven on a promise that the offence is not to be repeated.” - -“But I love you, Nan! I’ve said so,” he expostulated. - -“You’re too precocious, young Randal. It comes, I suppose, of being -given a sword to play with. I shall have to speak to your father about -it. You need manners more than a sword at present.” - -The minx was skilled in the art of punishing. But the lad refused to be -put out of countenance. - -“Nan, dear, I am asking you to marry me.” - -She jumped at that. Her eyes dilated. “Lord!” she said. “What -condescension! But d’you think I want a child tied to my -apron-strings?” - -“Won’t you be serious, Nan?” he pleaded. “I am very serious.” - -“You must be, to be thinking of marriage.” - -“I am going away, Nan--to-morrow, very early. I came to say good-bye.” - -Her eyelids flickered, and in that moment a discerning glance would -have detected a gleam of alarm from her blue eyes. But there was no -hint of it in her voice. - -“I thought you said it was to marry me you came.” - -“Why will you be teasing me? It means so much to me, Nan. I want you to -say that you’ll wait for me; that you’ll marry me some day.” - -He was very close to her. She looked up at him a little breathlessly. -Her feminine intuitions warned her that he was about to take a liberty; -feminine perversity prompted her to frustrate the intention, although -it was one that in her heart she knew would gladden her. - -“Some day?” she mocked him. “When you’re grown up, I suppose? Why, I’ll -be an old maid by then; and I don’t think I want to be an old maid.” - -“Answer me, Nan. Don’t rally me. Say that you’ll wait.” - -He would have caught her by the shoulders again. But she eluded those -eager hands of his. - -“You haven’t told me yet where you are going.” - -Gravely he flung the bombshell of his news, confident that it must lend -him a new importance in her eyes, and thus, perhaps, bring her into -something approaching subjection. - -“I am going to London, to the army. My father has procured me a -cornetcy of horse, and I am to serve under General Monk, who is his -friend.” - -It made an impression, though she did not give him the satisfaction -of seeing how great that impression was. To do her justice, the army -meant no more to her just at that moment than champing horses, blaring -trumpets, and waving banners. Of its grimmer side she took as yet -no thought: else she might have given his news a graver greeting. As -it was, the surprise of it left her silent, staring at him in a new -wonder. He took advantage of it to approach her again. He committed the -mistake of attempting to force the pace. He caught her to him, taking -her unawares this time and seizing her suddenly, before she could elude -him. - -“Nan, my dear!” - -She struggled in his arms. But he held her firmly. She struggled the -harder, and, finding her struggles ineffective, her temper rose. Her -hands against his breast she thrust him back. - -“Release me at once! Release me, or I’ll scream!” - -At that and the anger in her voice, he let her go, and stood -sheepishly, abashed, whilst she retreated a few paces from him, -breathing quickly, her eyes aflash. - -“My faith! You’ll be a great success in London! They’ll like your -oafish ways up yonder. I think you had better go.” - -“Forgive me, Nan!” He was in a passion of penitence, fearing that this -time he had gone too far and angered her in earnest. “Ah, don’t be -cruel. It is our last day together for Heaven knows how long.” - -“Well, that’s a mercy.” - -“Ye don’t mean that, Nan? Ye can’t mean that ye care nothing about me. -That you are glad I’m going.” - -“You should mend your manners,” she reproved him by way of compromise. - -“Why, so I will. It’s only that I want you so; that I’m going away--far -away; that after to-day I won’t see you again maybe for years. If ye -say that ye don’t care for me at all, why, then I don’t think that I’ll -come back to Potheridge ever. But if ye care--be it never so little, -Nan--if you’ll wait for me, it’ll send me away with a good heart, -it’ll give me strength to become great. I’ll conquer the world for -you, my dear,” he ended grandiloquently, as is the way of youth in its -unbounded confidence. “I’ll bring it back to toss it in your lap.” - -Her eyes were shining. His devotion and enthusiasm touched her. But her -mischievous perversity must be dissembling it. She laughed on a rising -inflection that was faintly mocking. - -“I shouldn’t know what to do with it,” said she. - -That and her laughter angered him. He had opened his heart. He had been -boastful in his enthusiasm, he had magnified himself and felt himself -shrinking again under the acid of her derision. He put on a sudden -frosty dignity. - -“You may laugh, but there’ll come a day maybe when you won’t laugh. You -may be sorry when I come back.” - -“Bringing the world with you,” she mocked him. - -He looked at her almost savagely, white-faced. Then in silence he swung -on his heel and went off through the trees. Six paces he had taken -when he came face to face with an elderly, grave-faced gentleman in -the clerkly attire of a churchman, who was pacing slowly reading in a -book. The parson raised his eyes. They were long-shaped blue eyes like -Nancy’s, but kindlier in their glance. - -“Why, Randal!” he hailed the boy who was almost hurtling into him, -being half-blinded by his unshed tears. - -The youth commanded himself. - -“Give you good-morning, Mr. Sylvester. I ... I but came to say -good-bye....” - -“Why, yes, my boy. Your father told me....” - -Through the trees came the girl’s teasing voice. - -“You are detaining the gentleman, father, and he is in haste. He is off -to conquer the world.” - -Mr. Sylvester raised his heavy grey eyebrows a little; the shadow of a -smile hovered about the corners of his kindly mouth, his eyes looked a -question, humorously. - -Randal shrugged. “Nancy is gay at my departure, sir.” - -“Nay, nay.” - -“It affords her amusement, as you perceive, sir. She is pleased to -laugh.” - -“Tush, tush!” The parson turned, took his arm affectionately, and moved -along with him towards the house. “A mask on her concern,” he murmured. -“Women are like that. It takes a deal of learning to understand a -woman; and I doubt, in the end, if the time is well spent. But I’ll -answer for it that she’ll have a warm welcome for you on your return, -whether you’ve conquered the world or not. So shall we all, my boy. You -go to serve in a great cause. God bring you safely home again.” - -But Randal took no comfort, and parted from Mr. Sylvester vowing in his -heart that he would return no more betide what might. - -Yet before he quitted Potheridge he had proof that Mr. Sylvester was -right. It was in vain that day that Nancy awaited his return. And that -night there were tears on her pillow, some of vexation, but some of -real grief at the going of Randal. - -Very early next morning, before the village was astir, Randal rode -forth upon the conquest of the world, fortified by a tolerably heavy -purse, and that brand-new sword--the gifts which had accompanied his -father’s blessing. As he rode along by the wall above which the cherry -blossoms flaunted, towards the grey rectory that fronted immediately -upon the road, a lattice was pushed open overhead, and the head and -shoulders of Nancy were protruded. - -“Randal!” she softly called him, as he came abreast. - -He reined in his horse and looked up. His rancour melted instantly. He -was conscious of the quickening of his pulses. - -“Nan!” His whole soul was in his utterance of the name. - -“I ... I am sorry I laughed, Randal, dear. I wasn’t really gay. I have -cried since. I have stayed awake all night not to miss you now.” This -was hardly true, but it is very likely she believed it. “I wanted to -say good-bye and God keep you, Randal, dear, and ... and ... come back -to me soon again.” - -“Nan!” he cried again. It was all that he could say; but he said it -with singular eloquence. - -Something slapped softly down upon the withers of his horse. His hand -shot out to clutch it ere it fell thence, and he found himself holding -a little tasselled glove. - -There was a little scream from above. “My glove!” she cried. “I’ve -dropped it. Randal, please!” She was leaning far out, reaching down a -beseeching hand. But she was still too far above him to render possible -the glove’s return. Besides, this time she did not deceive him with her -comedy. He took off his hat, and passed the glove through the band. - -“I’ll wear it as a favour till I come to claim the hand it has -covered,” he told her in a sort of exaltation. He kissed the glove, -bowed low, covered himself with a flourish, and touched the horse with -his spurs. - -As he rode away her voice floated after him, faintly mocking, yet with -a choking quaver that betrayed her secret tears. - -“Don’t forget to bring the world back with you.” - -And that was the last of her voice that he had ever heard. - -Five years passed before the day when next he came to Potheridge. Again -the cherry trees were in blossom; again he saw them, tossed by the -breeze, above the grey wall of the rectory orchard, as he rode forward -with high-beating heart, a lackey trotting at his heels. - -The elder Holles, who had removed himself permanently to London shortly -after his son’s going to Monk, had been dead these two years. If Randal -had not accomplished his proud boast of conquering the world, at least -he had won himself an important place in it, a fine position in the -army, that should be a stepping-stone to greater things. He was the -youngest colonel in the service, thanks to his own talents as well as -to Monk’s favour--for Monk could never so have favoured him had he not -been worthy and so proved himself--a man of mark, of whom a deal was -expected by all who knew him. All this he now bore written plainly upon -him: his air of authority; his rich dress; the handsome furniture of -his splendid horse; the servant following; all advertised the man of -consequence. And he was proud of it all for the sake of her who had -been his inspiration. From his heart he thanked God for these things, -since he might offer them to her. - -What would she look like, he wondered, as he rode amain, his face -alight and eager. It was three years since last he had heard from her; -but that was natural enough, for the constant movements demanded by his -soldier’s life made it impossible that letters should reach him often. -To her he had written frequently. But one letter only had he received -in all those years, and that was long ago, written to him after Dunbar -in answer to his announcement that he had won himself a captaincy and -so advanced a stage in his conquest of the world. - -How would she greet him now? How would she look at him? What would be -her first word? He thought that it would be his name. He hoped it might -be; for in her utterance of it he would read all he sought to know. - -They came to a clattering halt at the rectory door. He flung down from -the saddle without waiting for his groom’s assistance, and creaked and -clanked across the cobbles to rattle on the oak with the butt of his -riding-whip. - -The door swung inwards. Before him, startled of glance, stood a lean -old crone who in nothing resembled the corpulent Mathilda who had -kept the rector’s house of old. He stared at her, some of the glad -eagerness perishing in his face. - -“The ... the rector?” quoth he, faltering. “Is he at home?” - -“Aye, he be in,” she mumbled, mistrustfully eyeing his imposing figure. -“Do ee bide a moment, whiles I calls him.” She vanished into the gloom -of the hall, whence her voice reached him, calling: “Master! Master! -Here be stranger!” - -A stranger! O God! Here all was not as it should be. - -Came a quick, youthful step, and a moment later a young man advanced -from the gloom. He was tall, comely, and golden-haired; he wore clerkly -black and the Geneva bands of a cleric. - -“You desired to see me, sir?” he inquired. - -Randal Holles stood looking at him, speechless for a long moment, -dumbfounded. He moistened his lips at last, and spoke. - -“It was Mr. Sylvester whom I desired to see, sir,” he answered. “Tell -me”--and in his eagerness he was so unmannerly as to clutch the unknown -parson’s arm--“where is he? Is he no longer here?” - -“No,” was the gentle answer. “I have succeeded him.” The young cleric -paused. “Mr. Sylvester has been with God these three years.” - -Holles commanded himself. “This is bad news to me, sir. He was an old -friend. And his daughter ... Miss Nancy? Where is she?” - -“I cannot tell you, sir. She had departed from Potheridge before I -came.” - -“But whither did she go? Whither?” In a sudden frenzy he shook the -other’s arm. - -The cleric suffered it in silence, realizing the man’s sudden -distraction. - -“That, sir, I do not know. I never heard. You see, sir, I had not the -acquaintance of Miss Sylvester. Perhaps the squire....” - -“Aye, aye! The squire!” - -To the squire’s he went, and burst in upon him at table in the hall. -Squire Haynes, corpulent and elderly, heaved himself up at the -intrusion of this splendid stranger. - -“God in Heaven!” he cried in amazement. “It’s young Randal Holles! -Alive!” - -It transpired that the report had run through Potheridge that Randal -had been killed at Worcester. That would be at about the time Mr. -Sylvester died, and his daughter had left the village shortly -thereafter. At another season and in other circumstances Holles might -have smiled at the vanity which had led him to suppose his name famous -throughout the land. Here to his native Potheridge no echo of that fame -had penetrated. He had been reported dead and no subsequent deed of his -had come to deny that rumour in this village that was the one spot in -all England where men should take an interest in his doings. - -Later, indeed, he may have pondered it, and derived from it a salutary -lesson in the bridling of conceit. But at the moment his only thought -was of Nancy. Was it known whither she had gone? - -The squire had heard tell at the time; but he had since forgotten; a -parson’s daughter was no great matter. In vain he made an effort of -memory for Randal’s sake and upon Randal’s urging. Then he bethought -him that perhaps his housekeeper could say. Women retained these -trivial matters in their memories. Summoned, the woman was found to -remember perfectly. Nancy had gone to Charmouth to the care of a -married aunt, a sister of her father’s, her only remaining relative. -The aunt’s name was Tenfil, an odd name. - -To his dying day Randal would remember that instant ride to Charmouth, -his mental anxiety numbing all sense of fatigue, followed by a lackey -who at intervals dozed in his saddle, then woke to grumble and complain. - -In the end half dead with weariness, yet quickened ever by suspense, -they came to Charmouth, and they found the house of Tenfil, and the -aunt; but they found no Nancy. - -Mrs. Tenfil, an elderly, hard-faced, hard-hearted woman, all piety and -no charity, one of those creatures who make of religion a vice for -their own assured damnation, unbent a little from her natural sourness -before the handsome, elegant young stranger. She was still a woman -under the ashes of her years and of her bigotry. But at the mention of -her niece’s name the sourness and the hardness came back to her face -with interest. - -“A creature without godliness. My brother was ever a weak man, and he -ruined her with kindness. It was a mercy he died before he came to know -the impiety of his offspring--a wilful, headstrong, worldly minx.” - -“Madam, it is not her character I seek of you; but her whereabouts,” -said the exasperated Randal. - -She considered him in a new light. In the elegance and good looks, -which had at first commended him, she now beheld the devil’s seal of -worldliness. Such a man would seek her niece for no good purpose; -yet he was just such a man as her niece, to her undoing, would make -welcome. Her lips tightened with saintly, uncharitable purpose. -She would make of herself a buckler between this malignant one and -her niece. By great good fortune--by a heavenly Providence, in her -eyes--her niece was absent at the time. And so in the cause of holiness -she lied to him--although of this the poor fellow had no suspicion. - -“In that case, young sir, you seek something I cannot give you.” - -She would have left it vaguely there, between truth and untruth. But he -demanded more. - -“You mean, you do not know ... that ... that she has left you?” - -She braced herself to the righteous falsehood. - -“That is what I mean.” - -Still he would not rest content. Haggard-faced he drove her into the -last ditch of untruth. - -“When did she leave you? Tell me that, at least.” - -“Two years ago. After she had been with me a year.” - -“And whither did she go? You must know that!” - -“I do not. All that I know is that she went. Belike she is in London. -That, at least, I know is where she would wish to be, being all -worldliness and ungodliness.” - -He stared at her, a physical sickness oppressing him. His little Nan -in London, alone and friendless, without means. What might not have -happened to her in two years? - -“Madam,” he said in a voice that passion and sorrow made unsteady, “if -you drove her hence, as your manner seems to tell me, be sure that God -will punish you.” - -And he reeled out without waiting for her answer. - -Inquiries in the village might have altered the whole course of his -life. But, as if the unutterable gods of Mrs. Tenfil’s devotions -removed all chances of the frustration of her ends, Randal rode out of -Charmouth without having spoken to another soul. To what end should -he have done so, considering her tale? What reason could he have to -disbelieve? - -For six months after that he sought Nancy in all places likely -and unlikely. And all that while in Charmouth Nancy patiently and -trustfully awaited his coming, which should deliver her from the -dreadful thraldom of Aunt Tenfil’s godliness. Some day, she was -persuaded, must happen that which she did not know had already -happened; that he must seek her in Potheridge, learn whither she was -gone, and follow. For she did not share Potheridge’s belief that he -was dead, though for a time she had mourned him grievously when first -the rumour ran through her native village. Subsequently, however, soon -after her migration to Charmouth, a letter from him had reached her -there, written some months after Worcester fight, in which he announced -himself not only safe and sound, but thriving, conquering the world -apace, and counting upon returning laden with it soon, to claim her. - -And meanwhile despair was settling upon young Randal. To have lived -and striven with but one inspiration and one aim, and to find in the -hour of triumph that the aim has been rendered unattainable, is to know -one’s self for Fortune’s fool. To a loyal soul such as his the blow was -crushing. It made life purposeless, robbed him of ambition and warped -his whole nature. His steadfastness was transmuted into recklessness -and restlessness. He required distraction from his brooding; the career -of arms at home, in time of peace, could offer him none of this. He -quitted the service of the Parliament, and went abroad--to Holland, -that happy hunting-ground of all homeless adventurers. He entered Dutch -service, and for a season prospered in it. But there was a difference, -deplorable and grim. He was no longer concerned to build himself a -position in the State. Such a thing was impossible in a foreign land, -where he was a mercenary, a soldier of fortune, a man who made of arms -a trade soulless and uninspired. With the mantle of the mercenary he -put on a mercenary’s habits. His easily earned gold he spent riotously, -prodigally, as was ever the mercenary’s way. He gamed and drank and -squandered it on worthless women. - -He grew notorious; a man of reckless courage, holding his life cheap, -an able leader of men, but a dissolute, hard-drinking, quarrelsome -Englander whom it was not safe to trust too far. - -The reaction set in at last; but not until five years of this life had -corroded his soul. It came to him one day when he realized that he was -over thirty, that he had dissipated his youth, and that the path he -trod must lead him ultimately to a contemptible old age. Some of the -good that slumbered in the depths of his soul welled up to cry a halt. -He would go back. Physically and morally he would retrace his steps. He -would seize this life that was slipping from him, and remould it to the -original intention. For that he would return to England. - -He wrote to Monk, who then was the powerfullest man in the realm. -But--Fortune’s fool again--he wrote just too late. The restoration was -accomplished. It was a few weeks old, no more. For one who had been a -prominent Parliament man in the old days, and the son of a Parliament -man still more prominent, there was no place by then in English -service. Had he but made the application some months sooner, whilst the -restoration was still in the balance, and had he then taken sides with -Monk in bringing it about, he might by that very act have redeemed the -past in Stuart eyes, setting up a credit to cancel the old debt. - -The rest you guess. He sank thereafter deeper into his old habits, -rendering himself ever more unfit for any great position, and so -continued for five horrid years that seemed to him in retrospect an -age. Then came the war, and England’s unspoken summons to every son of -hers who trailed a sword abroad. Dutch service could no longer hold -him. This was his opportunity. At last he would shake off the filth of -a mercenary’s life, and go boldly home to find worthy employment for -his sword. - -Yet, but for the scheming credit accorded him by a tavern-keeper and -the interest of a vulgar old woman who had cause to hold him in kindly -memory, he might by now have been sent back, to tread once more the -path to hell. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE MERCENARY - - -Colonel Holles took the air in Paul’s Yard, drawn forth partly by the -voice of a preacher on the steps of Paul’s, who was attracting a crowd -about him, partly by his own restlessness. It was now three days since -his visit to the Cockpit, and although he could not reasonably have -expected news from Albemarle within so short a time, yet the lack of it -was fretting him. - -He was moving along the skirts of the crowd that had collected before -the preacher, with no intention of pausing, when suddenly a phrase -arrested him. - -“Repent, I say, while it is time! For behold the wrath of the Lord is -upon you. The scourge of pestilence is raised to smite you down.” - -Holles looked over the heads of the assembled citizens, and beheld a -black crow of a man, cadaverous of face, with sunken eyes that glowed -uncannily from the depths of their sockets. - -“Repent!” the voice croaked. “Awaken! Behold your peril, and by prayer -and reparation set yourselves to avert it whiles yet it may be time. -Within the Parish of St. Giles this week lie thirty dead of this dread -pestilence, ten in St. Clement’s, and as many in St. Andrew’s, Holborn. -These are but warnings. Slowly but surely the plague is creeping upon -the city. As Sodom of old was destroyed, so shall this modern Sodom -perish, unless you rouse yourselves, and cast out the evil that is -amongst you.” - -The crowd was in the main irreverently disposed. There was some -laughter, and one shrill, persistent voice that derided him. The -preacher paused. He seemed to lengthen before them, as he raised his -arms to Heaven. - -“They laugh! Deriders, scoffers, will you not be warned? Oh, the great, -the dreadful God! His vengeance is upon you, and you laugh. Thou hast -defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine iniquities, by the -iniquity of thy traffic. Therefore I will bring forth a fire from the -midst of thee, and I will burn thee to ashes upon the earth in the -sight of all them that behold thee.” - -Holles moved on. He had heard odd allusions to this pestilence which -was said to be making victims in the outskirts and which it was alleged -by some fools was a weapon of warfare wielded by the Dutch--at least, -that it was the Dutch who had let it loose in England. But he had paid -little heed to the matter, knowing that scaremongers are never lacking. -Apparently the citizens of London were of his own way of thinking, if -he might judge by the indifferent success attending the hoarse rantings -of that preacher of doom. - -As he moved on, a man of handsome presence and soldierly bearing, with -the dress and air of a gentleman, considered him intently with eyes of -startled wonder. As Holles came abreast of him, he suddenly stepped -forward, detaching from the crowd, and caught the Colonel by the arm. -Holles checked, and turned to find himself gravely regarded by this -stranger. - -“Either you are Randal Holles, or else the devil in his shape.” - -Then Holles knew him--a ghost out of his past, as he was, himself, a -ghost out of the past of this other; an old friend, a brother-in-arms -of the days of Worcester and Dunbar. - -“Tucker!” he cried, “Ned Tucker!” And impulsively, his face alight, he -held out his hand. - -The other gripped it firmly. - -“I must have known you anywhere, Randal, despite the change that time -has wrought.” - -“It has wrought changes in yourself as well. But you would seem to -have prospered!” The Colonel’s face was rejuvenated by a look of almost -boyish pleasure. - -“Oh, I am well enough,” said Tucker. “And you?” - -“As you see.” - -The other’s grave dark eyes considered him. There fell a silence, an -awkward pause between those two, each of whom desired to ask a hundred -questions. At last: - -“I last heard of you in Holland,” said Tucker. - -“I am but newly home.” - -The other’s eyebrows went up, a manifestation of surprise. - -“Whatever can have brought you?” - -“The war, and the desire to find employment in which I may serve my -country.” - -“And you’ve found it?” The smile on the dark face suggested a scornful -doubt which almost made an answer unnecessary. - -“Not yet.” - -“It would have moved my wonder if you had. It was a rashness to have -returned at all.” He lowered his voice, lest he should be overheard. -“The climate of England isn’t healthy at all to old soldiers of the -Parliament.” - -“Yet you are here, Ned.” - -“I?” Again that slow, half-scornful smile lighted the grave, handsome -face. He shrugged. He leaned towards Holles, and dropped his voice -still further. “My father was not a regicide,” he said quietly. -“Therefore, I am comparatively obscure.” - -Holles looked at him, the eager pleasure which the meeting had brought -him withering in his face. Would men ever keep green the memory of this -thing and of the silly tie with which they had garnished it? Must it -ever prove an insuperable obstacle to him in Stuart England? - -“Nay, nay, never look so glum, man,” Tucker laughed, and he took the -Colonel by the arm. “Let us go somewhere where we can talk. We should -have a deal to tell each other.” - -Holles swung him round. - -“Come to the Paul’s Head,” he bade him. “I am lodged there.” - -But the other hung back, hesitating a moment. “My own lodging is near -at hand in Cheapside,” he said, and they turned about again. - -In silence they moved off together. At the corner of Paul’s Yard, -Tucker paused, and turned to look across at the doorway of Paul’s and -the fanatical preacher who stood there shrilling. His voice floated -across to them. - -“Oh, the great and the dreadful God!” - -Tucker’s face set into grimly sardonic lines. “An eloquent fellow, -that,” he said. “He should rouse these silly sheep from their apathy.” - -The Colonel stared at him, puzzled. There seemed to be an ulterior -meaning to his words. But Tucker, without adding anything further, drew -him away and on. - -In a handsome room on the first floor of one of the most imposing -houses in Cheapside, Tucker waved his guest to the best chair. - -“An old friend, just met by chance,” he explained to his housekeeper, -who came to wait upon him. “So it will be a bottle of sack ... of the -best!” - -When, having brought the wine, the woman had taken herself off and the -two sat within closed doors, the Colonel gave his friend the account of -himself which the latter craved. - -Gravely Tucker heard him through, and grave his face remained when -the tale was done. He sighed, and considered the Colonel a moment in -silence with sombre eyes. - -“So George Monk’s your only hope?” he said, slowly, at last. Then he -uttered a short, sharp laugh of infinite scorn. “In your case I think -I’d hang myself and have done. It’s less tormenting.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“You think that Monk will really help you? That he intends to help?” - -“Assuredly. He has promised it, and he was my friend--and my father’s -friend.” - -“Friend!” said the other bitterly. “I never knew a trimmer to be -any man’s friend but his own. And if ever a trimmer lived, his name -is George Monk--the very prince of trimmers, as his whole life -shows. First a King’s man; then something betwixt and between King -and Parliament; then a Parliament man, selling his friends of the -King’s side. And lastly a King’s man again, in opposition to his late -trusting friends of the Parliament. Always choosing the side that is -uppermost or that can outbid the other for his services. And look -where he stands; Baron of this, Earl of that, Duke of Albemarle, -Commander-in-Chief, Master of the Horse, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, -and God knows what else. Oh, he has grown fat on trimming.” - -“You do him wrong, Ned.” Holles was mildly indignant. - -“That is impossible.” - -“But you do. You forget that a man may change sides from conviction.” - -“Especially when it is to his own profit,” sneered Tucker. - -“That is ungenerous, and it is untrue, of course.” The Colonel showed -signs of loyal heat. “You are wrong also in your other assumption. He -would have given me all the help I needed, but that....” - -“But that he counted the slight risk--nay; what am I saying?--the -slight inconvenience to himself should any questions afterwards be -asked. He could have averted in such a case all awkwardness by pleading -ignorance to your past....” - -“He is too honest to do that.” - -“Honest! Aye--‘honest George Monk’! Usually misfortune schools a man -in worldly wisdom. But you....” Tucker smiled between contempt and -sadness, leaving the phrase unfinished. - -“I have told you that he will help me; that he has promised.” - -“And you build upon his promises? Promises! They cost nothing. They -are the bribes with which a trimmer puts off the importunate. Monk saw -your need, as I see it. You carry the marks of it plainly upon you, -in every seam of your threadbare coat. Forgive the allusion, Randal!” -He set a conciliatory hand upon his friend’s arm, for the Colonel had -reddened resentfully at the words. “I make it to justify myself of what -I say.” And he resumed: “Monk’s revenues amount to thirty thousand -pounds a year--such are the vails of trimmers. He was your friend, you -say; he was your father’s friend, and owed much to your father, as all -know. Did he offer you his purse to tide you over present stress, until -opportunity permits him to fulfil his promise? Did he?” - -“I could not have taken advantage of it if he had.” - -“That is not what I ask you. Did he offer it? Of course he did not. Not -he. Yet would not a friend have helped you at once and where he could?” - -“He did not think of it.” - -“A friend would have thought of it. But Monk is no man’s friend.” - -“I say again, you are unjust to him. You forget that, after all, he was -under no necessity to promise anything.” - -“Oh, yes, he was. There was his Duchess, as you’ve told me. Dirty Bess -can be importunate, and she commands him. He goes notoriously in terror -of her. Yielding to her importunities he promised that which he will -avoid fulfilling. I know George Monk, and all his leprous kind, of -which this England is full to-day, battening upon her carcase with the -foul greed of vultures. I....” - -He grew conscious that Colonel Holles was staring at him, amazed by his -sudden vehemence. He checked abruptly, and laughed. - -“I grow hot for nothing at all. Nay, not for nothing--for you, old -friend, and against those who put this deception upon you. You should -not have come back to England, Randal. But since you’re here, at least -do not woo disappointment by nourishing your hopes on empty promises.” -He raised his glass to the light, and looked at the Colonel solemnly -across the top of it. “I drink to your better fortune, Randal.” - -Mechanically, without answering a word, the Colonel drank with him. His -heart was turned to lead. The portrait Tucker had so swiftly painted of -Monk’s soul was painted obviously with a hostile, bitter brush. Yet the -facts of Monk’s life made it plausible. The likeness was undeniable, if -distorted. And Holles--rendered pessimistic and despondent by his very -condition--saw the likeness and not the distortion. - -“If you are right,” he said slowly, his eyes upon the table, “I may as -well take your advice, and hang myself.” - -“Almost the only thing left for a self-respecting man in England,” said -Tucker. - -“Or anywhere else, for that matter. But why so bitter about England in -particular?” - -Tucker shrugged. “You know my sentiments, what they always were. I am -no trimmer. I sail a steady course.” - -Holles regarded him searchingly. He could not misunderstand the man’s -words, still less his tone. - -“Is that not.... Is it not a dangerous course?” he asked. - -Tucker looked at him with wistful amusement. - -“There are considerations an honest man should set above danger.” - -“Oh, agreed.” - -“There is no honesty save in steadfastness, Randal, and I am, I hope, -an honest man.” - -“By which you mean that I am not,” said Holles slowly. - -Tucker did not contradict him by more than a shrug and a deprecatory -smile that was of mere politeness. The Colonel rose, stirred to -vehemence by his friend’s manifest opinion of him. - -“I am a beggar, Ned; and beggars may not choose. Besides, for ten years -now I have been a mercenary, neither more nor less. My sword is for -hire. That is the trade by which I live. I do not make governments; I -do not plague myself with questions of their worth; I serve them, for -gold.” - -But Tucker, smiling sadly, slowly shook his head. - -“If that were true, you would not be in England now. You came, as -you have said, because of the war. Your sword may be for hire; but -you still have a country, and the first offer goes to her. Should -she refuse it, the next will not go to an enemy of England’s. So why -belittle yourself thus? You still have a country, and you love it. -There are many here who are ready to love you, though they may not be -among those who govern England. You have come back to serve her. Serve -her, then. But first ask yourself how best she may be served.” - -“What’s that?” - -“Sit down, man. Sit, and listen.” - -And now, having first sworn the Colonel to secrecy in the name of their -old friendship--to which and to the Colonel’s desperate condition, the -other trusted in opening his heart--Tucker delivered himself of what -was no less than treason. - -He began by inviting the Colonel to consider the state to which -misgovernment by a spendthrift, lecherous, vindictive, dishonest king -had reduced the country. Beginning with the Bill of Indemnity and its -dishonourable evasion, he reviewed act by act the growing tyranny of -the last five years since the restoration of King Charles, presenting -each in the focus of his own vision, which, if bitterly hostile, was -yet accurate enough. He came in the end to deal with the war to which -the country was committed; he showed how it had been provoked by -recklessness, and how it had been rendered possible by the gross, the -criminal neglect of the affairs of that navy which Cromwell had left so -formidable. And he dwelt upon the appalling license of the Court with -all the fury of the Puritan he was at heart. - -“We touch the end at last,” he concluded with fierce conviction. -“Whitehall shall be swept clean of this Charles Stuart and his trulls -and pimps and minions. They shall be flung on the foul dunghill where -they belong, and a commonwealth shall be restored to rule this England -in a sane and cleanly fashion, so that honest men may be proud to serve -her once again.” - -“My God, Ned, you’re surely mad!” Holles was aghast as much at the -confidence itself as at the manner of it. - -“To risk myself, you mean?” Tucker smiled grimly. “These vampires -have torn the bowels out of better men in the same cause, and if we -fail, they may have mine and welcome. But we do not fail. Our plans -are shrewdly laid and already well advanced. There is one in Holland -who directs them--a name I dare not mention to you yet, but a name -that is dear to all honest men. Almost it is the hour. Our agents -are everywhere abroad, moulding the people’s mind, directing it into -a sane channel. Heaven itself has come to our help by sending us -this pestilence to strike terror into men’s hearts and make them ask -themselves how much the vices by which the rulers defile this land may -not have provoked this visitation. That preacher you heard upon the -steps of Paul’s is one of our agents, doing the good work, casting the -seed in fertile places. And very soon now will come the harvest--such a -harvest!” - -He paused, and considered his stricken friend with an eye in which -glowed something of the light of fanaticism. - -“Your sword is idle and you seek employment for it, Randal. Here is -a service you may take with honour. It is the service of the old -Commonwealth to which in the old days you were stanch, a service -aiming at these enemies who would still deny such men as you a place -in England. You strike not only for yourself, but for some thousands -in like case. And your country will not forget. We need such swords as -yours. I offer you at once a cause and a career. Albemarle puts you -off with promises of appointments in which the preference over worth -is daily granted to the pimpish friends of the loathly creatures about -Charles Stuart’s leprous Court. I have opened my heart to you freely -and frankly, even at some risk. What have you to say to me?” - -Holles rose, his decision taken, his face set. “What I said at first. -I am a mercenary. I do not make governments. I serve them. There is no -human cause in all the world to-day could move me to enthusiasm.” - -“Yet you came home that you might serve England in her need.” - -“Because I did not know where else to go.” - -“Very well. I accept you at your own valuation, Randal--not that I -believe you; but not to confuse the argument. Being here, you find the -doors by which you counted upon entering all closed against you, and -locked. What are you going to do? You say you are a mercenary; that -your concern is but to give a soulless service to the hand that hires -you. I present you to a liberal taskmaster; one who will richly reward -your service. Since to you all service is alike, let the mercenary -answer me.” - -He, too, had risen, and held out a hand in appeal. The Colonel looked -at him seriously awhile; then he smiled. - -“What an advocate was lost in you, Ned!” said he. “You keep to the -point--aye; but also you conveniently miss it. A mercenary serves -governments _in esse_; the service of governments _in posse_ is for -enthusiasts; and I have had no enthusiasms these ten years and more. -Establish your government, and my sword is for your hire, and gladly. -But do not ask me to set my head upon the board in this gamble to -establish it; for my head is my only remaining possession.” - -“If you will not strike a blow for love, will you not strike one for -hate: against the Stuart, whose vindictiveness will not allow you to -earn your bread?” - -“You overstate the case. Though much that you have said of him may be -true, I will not yet despair of the help of Albemarle.” - -“Why, you blind madman, I tell you--I swear to you--that in a very -little while Albemarle will be beyond helping any man, beyond helping -even himself.” - -Holles was about to speak, when Tucker threw up a hand to arrest him. - -“Do not answer me now. Let what I have said sink home into your -wits. Give it thought. We are not pressed for a few days. Ponder my -words, and if as the days pass and no further news comes to you from -Whitehall--no fulfilment of this airy promise--perhaps you will regard -things differently, and come to see where your interest really lies. -Remember, then, that we need skilled soldiers as leaders for our -movement, and that an assured welcome awaits you. Remember, too--this -for the mercenary you represent yourself--that the leaders now will be -the leaders still when the task is accomplished, and that theirs will -be the abiding rewards. Meanwhile, Randal, the bottle’s not half done. -So sit you down again, and let us talk of other matters.” - -Going home towards dusk, the thing that most intrigued the Colonel -was the dangerous frankness that Tucker had used with him, trusting a -man in his desperate case with a secret so weighty upon no more than -his pledged word and what Tucker remembered of him in the creditable -state from which he had long since fallen. Reflection, however, -diminished his wonder. Tucker had divulged no facts whose betrayal -could seriously impair the plotters. He had mentioned no names; he had -no more than vaguely alluded to a directing mind in Holland, which the -Colonel guessed to be Algernon Sidney’s, who was beyond the reach of -the Stuart arm. For the rest, what had he told him? That there was a -serious movement afoot to overthrow the Stuart dynasty, and restore the -Commonwealth. Let Holles carry that tale to the authorities, and what -would happen? He could impeach by name no man but Tucker; and all he -could say of Tucker was that Tucker had told him these things. Tucker’s -word would be as good as Holles’s before a justice. On the score of -credit, Holles’s antecedents would be the subject of inquiry, and the -revelation of them would result in danger to himself alone. - -Tucker had not been as ingenuous and confiding as he had at first -supposed. He laughed a little to himself at his own simplicity. Then -laughed again as he reviewed the proposal Tucker had made him. He might -be desperate, but not desperate enough for that--not yet. He caressed -his neck affectionately. He had no mind to feel a rope tightening -about it. Nor would he yet despair because of what Tucker, largely -for the purposes of his own advocacy, had said of Albemarle. The more -he considered it, away from Tucker now, the more persuaded was he of -Albemarle’s sincerity and good intentions. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MR. ETHEREDGE PRESCRIBES - - -On his return to the Paul’s Head from that treasonable talk with -Tucker, the Colonel found a considerable excitement presiding over -that usually peaceful and well-conducted hostelry. The common room was -thronged, which was not in itself odd, considering the time of day; -what was odd was the noisy, vehement babble of the normally quiet, -soberly spoken merchants who for the main part composed its custom. -Mrs. Quinn was there listening to the unusually shrill voice of her -bookseller-suitor Coleman, and her round red face, which the Colonel -had never seen other than creased and puckered in smiles of false -joviality, was solemn for once and had lost some of its normally high -colour. Near at hand hovered the drawer, scraping imaginary crumbs from -the table with his wooden knife, as a pretext for remaining to listen. -And so engrossed was his mistress that she left his eavesdropping -unreproved. - -Yet, for all her agitation, she had a coy glance for the Colonel as -he stalked through, with that lofty detachment and arrogant unconcern -of his surroundings which she found so entirely admirable in him. It -was not long before she followed him into the little parlour at the -back, where she found him stretched at his ease on his favourite seat -under the window, having cast aside sword and hat. He was in the act of -loading a pipe from a leaden tobacco-jar. - -“Lord, Colonel! Here be dreadful news,” she told him. - -He looked up, cocking an eyebrow. - -“You’ll have heard?” she added. “It is the talk of the Town.” - -He shook his head. “Nay, I heard nothing dreadful. I met a friend, an -old friend, over there by the Flower of Luce, and I’ve been with him -these three hours. I talked to no one else. What is this news?” - -But she was frowning as she looked at him scrutinizingly with her round -blue eyes. Her mind was shifted by his light words to her own more -immediate concerns. He had met a friend--an old friend. Not much in -that to arouse anxiety, perhaps. But Mrs. Quinn moved now in constant -dread of influences that might set the Colonel on a sound worldly -footing likely to emancipate him from his dependence upon herself. She -had skilfully drawn from him enough of the details of his interview -with Albemarle to realize that the help upon which he counted from -that quarter had not been forthcoming. He had been put off with vague -promises, and Mrs. Quinn knew enough of her world not to be greatly -perturbed by that. None the less she would have set all doubts at rest -by leading the Colonel into the relationship in which she desired to -hold him, but that as yet the Colonel manifested no clear disposition -to be led. And she was too crafty a huntress to scare her quarry by -premature and too direct an onslaught. The only anxiety, yielding to -which she might have committed that imprudence, was on the score of -the unexpected. She knew that the unexpected will sometimes happen, -and this mention of a friend--an old friend, with whom he had spent -some hours in intimate talk--was disquieting. She would have liked to -question him on the subject of that friend, and might have done so but -for his insistent repetition of the question: - -“What is this news?” - -Recalled to it thus, the gravity of the news itself thrust out the -other matter from her mind. - -“That the plague has broken out in the City itself--in a house in -Bearbinder Lane. It was brought by a Frenchman from Long Acre, where he -lived, and which he left upon finding the pestilence to be growing in -his neighbourhood. Yet it seems he was already taken with the disease, -which now the wretch has brought to our threshold, as it were, without -benefit to himself.” - -The Colonel thought of Tucker and his scaremongering emissaries. - -“Perhaps it is not true,” said he. - -“Aye, but it is. Beyond a doubt. It was put about by a preacher rogue -from the steps of Paul’s to-day. At first folk did not believe him. -But they went to Bearbinder Lane, and there found the house shut up, -and guarded by command of my Lord Mayor. And they do say that Sir John -Lawrence is gone to Whitehall to take order about this, to concert -measures for staying the spread of the pestilence; they are to close -playhouses and all other places where people come together, which will -likely mean that they will be closing taverns and eating-houses. And -what should I do in that case?” - -“Nay, nay,” Holles comforted her. “It will hardly come to that. Men -must eat and drink or they starve, and that’s as bad as the pestilence.” - -“To be sure it is. But they’ll never think of that in their zeal and -their sudden godliness--for they’ll be in a muck-sweat o’ godliness now -that they see what a visitation has been brought upon us by the vices -of the Court. And this to happen at such a time, with the Dutch fleet, -as they say, about to attack the coast!” - -She railed on. Disturbed out of her self-centred existence into a -consideration of the world’s ills now that she found herself menaced by -them, she displayed a prodigious volubility upon topics that hitherto -she had completely ignored. - -And the substance of her news was true enough. The Lord Mayor was at -that very moment at Whitehall urging immediate and drastic measures for -combating the spread of the pestilence, and one of these measures was -the instant closing of the playhouses. But since he did not at the -same time urge the closing of the churches, in which the congregating -of people was at least as dangerous as in the theatres, it was assumed -at Court that Sir John was the cat’s-paw of the Puritans who sought -to make capital out of the pestilence. Besides, the visitation was -one that confined itself to the poorer quarters and the lower orders. -Heaven would never be so undiscriminating as to permit this horrible -disease to beset persons of quality. And then, too, Whitehall’s mind -at the moment was over-full of other matters: there were these rumours -that the Dutch fleet was out, and that was quite sufficient to engage -such time and attention as could be spared from pleasure by the -nation’s elect, following in the footsteps of their pleasure-loving -King. Also a good many of the nation’s elect were exercised at the -time by personal grievances in connection with the fleet and the war. -Of these perhaps the most disgruntled--as he was certainly the most -eminent--was His Grace of Buckingham, who found the nation sadly -negligent of the fact that he had come all the way from York, and his -lord-lieutenancy there, to offer her his valuable services in her hour -of need. - -He had requested the command of a ship, a position to which his -rank and his talents fully entitled him, in his own view. That such -a request would be refused had never entered his calculations. But -refused it was. There were two factors working against him. The first -was that the Duke of York cordially disliked him and neglected no -chance of mortifying him; the second was that the Duke of York, being -Lord Admiral of the Fleet, desired to take no risks. There were many -good positions from which capable naval men could be excluded to make -way for sprigs of the nobility. But the command of a man-of-war was -not one of these. Buckingham was offered a gun-brig. Considering that -the offer came from the King’s brother, he could not resent it in the -terms his hot blood prompted. But what he could do to mark his scorn, -he did. He refused the gun-brig, and enlisted as a volunteer aboard -a flag-ship. But here at once a fresh complication arose. As a Privy -Councillor he claimed the right of seat and voice in all councils of -war, in which capacity it is probable he might have done even more -damage than in command of one of the great ships. Again the Duke of -York’s opposition foiled him, whereupon in a rage he posted from -Portsmouth to Whitehall to lay his plaint before his crony the King. -The Merry Monarch may have wavered; it may have vexed him not to be -able to satisfy the handsome rake who understood so well the arts of -loosening laughter; but between his own brother and Buckingham there -can have been no choice. And so Charles could not help him. - -Buckingham had remained, therefore, at Court, to nurse his chagrin, and -to find his way circuitously into the strange history of Colonel Randal -Holles. His grace possessed, as you know, a mercurial temperament which -had not yet--although he was now approaching forty--lost any of its -liveliness. Such natures are readily consoled, because they readily -find distractions. It was not long before he had forgotten, in new and -less creditable pursuits, not only the humbling of his dignity, but -even the circumstance that his country was at war. Dryden has summed -him up in a single line: He “was everything by starts, and nothing -long.” The phrase applies as much to Buckingham’s moods as to his -talents; it epitomizes the man’s whole character. - -His friend George Etheredge, that other gifted rake who had leapt into -sudden fame a year ago with his comedy “The Comic Revenge,” had been -deafening his ears with praises of the beauty and talent of that widely -admired and comparatively newly discovered actress Sylvia Farquharson. -At first Buckingham had scoffed at his friend’s enthusiasm. - -“Such heat of rhetoric to describe a playhouse baggage!” he had yawned. -“For a man of your parts, George, I protest you’re nauseatingly callow.” - -“You flatter me in seeking to reprove,” Etheredge laughed. “To be -callow despite the years is to bear the mark of greatness. Whom the -gods love are callow always; for whom the gods love die young, whatever -be their age.” - -“You aim at paradox, I suppose. God help me!” - -“No paradox at all. Whom the gods love never grow old,” Etheredge -explained himself. “They never come to suffer as do you from jaded -appetites.” - -“You may be right,” his grace admitted gloomily. “Prescribe me a tonic.” - -“That is what I was doing: Sylvia Farquharson, at the Duke’s House.” - -“Bah! A play actress! A painted doll on wires! Twenty years ago your -prescription might have served.” - -“You admit that you grow old. Superfluous admission! But this, let -me perish, is no painted doll. This is an incarnation of beauty and -talent.” - -“So I’ve heard of others that had neither.” - -“And let me add that she is virtuous.” - -Buckingham stared at him, opening his lazy eyes. “What may that be?” he -asked. - -“The chief drug in my prescription.” - -“But does it exist, or is your callowness deeper than I thought?” quoth -Buckingham. - -“Come and see,” Mr. Etheredge invited him. - -“Virtue,” Buckingham objected, “is not visible.” - -“Like beauty, it dwells in the beholder’s eye. That’s why you’ve never -seen it, Bucks.” - -To the Duke’s playhouse in Lincoln’s Inn Fields his disgruntled grace -suffered himself, in the end, to be conducted. He went to scoff. He -remained to worship. You already know--having overheard the garrulous -Mr. Pepys--how from his box, addressing his companion in particular and -the whole house in general, the ducal author loudly announced that he -would give his muse no rest until he should have produced a play with a -part worthy of the superb talents of Miss Farquharson. - -His words were reported to her. They bore with them a certain flattery -to which it was impossible that she should be impervious. She had -not yet settled herself completely into this robe of fame that had -been thrust upon her. She continued unspoiled, and she did not yet -condescendingly accept such utterances from the great as no more than -the proper tribute to her gifts. Such praise from one so exalted, -himself a distinguished author and a boon companion of the King’s, set -a climax upon the triumphs that lately she had been garnering. - -It prepared her for the ducal visit to the green room, which followed -presently. She was presented by Mr. Etheredge with whom she was already -acquainted, and she stood shyly before the tall, supremely elegant -duke, under the gaze of his bold eyes. - -In his golden periwig he looked at this date not a year more than -thirty, despite the hard life he had lived from boyhood. As yet he had -come to none of that grossness to be observed in the portrait which -Sir Peter Lely painted some years later. He was still the handsomest -man at Charles’s Court, with his long-shaped, dark blue eyes under -very level brows, his fine nose and chin, and his humorous, sensitive, -sensual mouth. In shape and carriage he was of an extraordinary -grace that drew all eyes upon him. Yet at sight, instinctively, Miss -Farquharson disliked him. She apprehended under all that beauty of -person something sinister. She shrank inwardly and coloured a little -under the appraising glance of those bold, handsome eyes, which seemed -to penetrate too far. Reason and ambition argued her out of that -instinctive shrinking. Here was one whose approval carried weight and -would set the seal upon her fame, one whose good graces could maintain -her firmly on the eminence to which she had so laboriously climbed. He -was a man whom, in spite of all instinctive warnings, she must use with -consideration and a reasonable submission. - -On his side, the Duke, already captivated by her grace and beauty -upon the stage, found himself lost in admiration now that at close -quarters he beheld her slim loveliness. For lovely she was, and the -blush which his scrutiny had drawn to her cheeks, heightening that -loveliness, almost disposed him to believe Etheredge’s incredible -assertion of her virtue. Shyness may be counterfeited and the simpers -of unsophistication are easily assumed; but a genuine blush is not to -be commanded. - -His grace bowed, low, the curls of his wig swinging forward like the -ears of a water-spaniel. - -“Madam,” he said, “I would congratulate you were I not more concerned -to congratulate myself for having witnessed your performance, and still -more Lord Orrery, your present author. Him I not only congratulate but -envy--a hideous, cankering emotion, which I shall not conquer until I -have written you a part at least as great as his Katherine. You smile?” - -“It is for gratification at your grace’s promise.” - -“I wonder now,” said he, his eyes narrowing, his lips smiling a little. -“I wonder is that the truth, or is it that you think I boasted? that -such an achievement is not within my compass? I’ll confess frankly that -until I saw you it was not. But you have made it so, my dear.” - -“If I have done that, I shall, indeed, have deserved well of my -audience,” she answered, but lightly, laughing a little, as if to -discount the high-flown compliment. - -“As well, I trust, as I shall have deserved of you,” said he. - -“The author must always deserve the best of his puppets.” - -“Deserve, aye. But how rarely does he get his deserts!” - -“Surely you, Bucks, have little reason to complain,” gibed Etheredge. -“In my case, now, it is entirely different.” - -“It is, George--entirely,” his grace agreed, resenting the -interruption. “You are the rarity. You have always found better than -you deserved. I have never found it until this moment.” And his eyes -upon Miss Farquharson gave point to his meaning. - -When at length they left her, her sense of exaltation was all gone. -She could not have told you why, but the Duke of Buckingham’s approval -uplifted her no longer. Almost did she wish that she might have gone -without it. And when Betterton came smiling good-naturedly, to offer -her his congratulations upon this conquest, he found her bemused and -troubled. - -Bemused, too, did Etheredge find the Duke as they drove back together -to Wallingford House. - -“Almost, I think,” said he, smiling, “that already you find my despised -prescription to your taste. Persevered with it may even restore you -your lost youth.” - -“What I ask myself,” said Buckingham, “is why you should have -prescribed her for me instead of for yourself.” - -“I am like that,” said Etheredge,--“the embodiment of self-sacrifice. -Besides, she will have none of me--though I am ten years younger than -you are, fully as handsome and almost as unscrupulous. The girl’s a -prude, and I never learnt the way to handle prudes. Faith, it’s an -education in itself.” - -“Is it?” said Buckingham. “I must undertake it, then.” - -And undertake it he did with all the zest of one who loved learning and -the study of unusual subjects. - -Daily now he was to be seen in a box at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn -Fields, and daily he sent her, in token of his respectful homage, gifts -of flowers and comfits. He would have added jewels, but that the wiser -Etheredge restrained him. - -“Ne brusquez pas l’affaire,” was the younger man’s advice. “You’ll -scare her by precipitancy, and so spoil all. Such a conquest as this -requires infinite patience.” - -His grace suffered himself to be advised, and set a restraint upon his -ardour, using the greatest circumspection in the visits which he paid -her almost daily after the performance. He confined the expressions of -admiration to her histrionic art, and, if he touched upon her personal -beauty and grace, it was ever in association with her playing, so that -its consideration seemed justified by the part that he told her he was -conceiving for her. - -Thus subtly did he seek to lull her caution and intoxicate her senses -with the sweet poison of flattery, whilst discussing with her the play -he was to write--which, in his own phrase, was to immortalize himself -and her, thereby eternally uniting them. There was in this more than -a suggestion of a spiritual bond, a marriage of their respective arts -to give life to his dramatic conception, so aloof from material and -personal considerations that she was deceived into swallowing at least -half the bait. Nor was it vague. His grace did not neglect to furnish -it with a certain form. His theme, he told her, was the immortal story -of Laura and her Petrarch set in the warm glitter of an old Italian -frame. Nor was that all he told her. He whipped his wits to some -purpose, and sketched for her the outline of a first act of tenderness -and power. - -At the end of a week he announced to her that this first act was -already written. - -“I have laboured day and night,” he told her; “driven relentlessly by -the inspiration you have furnished me. So great is this that I must -regard the thing as more yours than mine, or I shall do it when you -have set upon it the seal of your approval.” Abruptly he asked her, as -if it were a condition predetermined: “When will you hear me read it?” - -“Were it not better that your grace should first complete the work?” -she asked him. - -He was taken aback, almost horror-stricken, to judge by his expression. - -“Complete it!” he cried; “without knowing whether it takes the shape -that you desire?” - -“But it is not what I desire, your grace....” - -“What else, then? Is it not something that I am doing specially for -you, moved to it by yourself? And shall I complete it tormented the -while by doubts as to whether you will consider it worthy of your -talents when it is done? Would you let a dressmaker complete your -gown without ever a fitting to see how it becomes you? And is a play, -then, less important than a garment? Is not a part, indeed, a sort of -garment for the soul? Nay, now, if I am to continue I must have your -assistance as I say. I must know how this first act appears to you, how -far my Laura does justice to your powers; and I must discuss with you -the lines which the remainder of the play shall follow. Therefore again -I ask you--and in the sacred cause of art I defy you to deny me--when -will you hear what I have written?” - -“Why, since your grace does me so much honour, when you will.” - -It was intoxicating, this homage to her talent from one of his gifts -and station, the intimate of princes, the close associate of kings, -and it stifled, temporarily at least, the last qualm of her intuitions -which had warned her against this radiant gentleman. They had become -so friendly and intimate in this week, and yet his conduct had been so -respectful and circumspect throughout, that clearly her instincts had -misled her at that first meeting. - -“When I will,” said he. “That is to honour me, indeed. Shall it be -to-morrow, then?” - -“If your grace pleases, and you will bring the act....” - -“Bring it?” He raised his eyebrows. His lip curled a little as he -looked round the dingy green room. “You do not propose, child, that I -should read it here?” He laughed in dismissal of the notion. - -“But where else, then?” she asked, a little bewildered. - -“Where else but in my own house? What other place were proper?” - -“Oh!” She was dismayed a little. An uneasiness, entirely instinctive, -beset her once again. It urged her to draw back, to excuse herself. Yet -reason combated instinct. It were a folly to offend him by a refusal? -Such a thing would be affronting by its implication of mistrust; and -she was very far from wishing to affront him. - -He observed the trouble in her blue eyes as she now regarded him, but -affected not to observe it, and waited for her to express herself. She -did so after a moment’s pause, faltering a little. - -“But ... at your house.... Why, what would be said of me, your grace? -To come there alone....” - -“Child! Child!” he interrupted her, his tone laden with gentle -reproach. “Can you think that I should so lightly expose you to the -lewd tongues of the Town? Alone? Give your mind peace. I shall have -some friends to keep you in countenance and to join you as audience to -hear what I have written. There shall be one or two ladies from the -King’s House; perhaps Miss Seymour from the Duke’s here will join us; -there is a small part for her in the play; and there shall be some -friends of my own; maybe even His Majesty will honour us. We shall make -a merry party at supper, and after supper you shall pronounce upon my -Laura whom you are to incarnate. Is your hesitancy conquered?” - -It was, indeed. Her mind was in a whirl. A supper party at Wallingford -House, at which in a sense she was to be the guest of honour, and which -the King himself would attend! She would have been mad to hesitate. -It was to enter the great world at a stride. Other actresses had done -it--Moll Davis and little Nelly from the King’s House; but they had -done it upon passports other than those of histrionic talent. She would -have preferred that Miss Seymour should not have been included. She had -no great opinion of Miss Seymour’s conduct. But there was a small part -for her, and that was perhaps a sufficient justification. - -And so she cast aside her hesitation, and gladdened his grace by -consenting to be present. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE PRUDE - - -On the evening of the day that had seen the meeting between Holles -and Tucker, at about the same hour that Sir John Lawrence was vainly -representing at Whitehall the expediency of closing the theatres and -other places of congregation in view of the outbreak of plague within -the City itself, His Grace of Buckingham was sitting down to supper -with a merry company in the great dining-room of Wallingford House. - -Eleven sat down to a table that was laid for twelve. The chair on the -Duke’s right stood empty. The guest of honour, Miss Farquharson, had -not yet arrived. At the last moment she had sent a message that she -was unavoidably detained for some little time at home, and that, if on -this account it should happen that she must deny herself the honour of -sitting down to supper at his grace’s table, at least she would reach -Wallingford House in time for the reading with which his grace was to -delight the company. - -It was in part a fiction. There was nothing to detain Miss Farquharson -beyond a revival of her uneasy intuitions, which warned her against -the increase of intimacy that would attend her inclusion in the Duke’s -supper-party. The play, however, was another affair. Therefore she -would so time her arrival that she would find supper at an end and the -reading about to begin. To be entirely on the safe side, she would -present herself at Wallingford House two hours after the time for which -she had been bidden. - -His grace found her message vexatious, and he would have postponed -supper until her arrival but that his guests did not permit him to -have his own way in the matter. As the truth was that there was -no first act in existence, for the Duke had not yet written a line -of it and probably never would, and that supper was to provide the -whole entertainment, it follows that this would be protracted, and -that however late she came she was likely still to find the party at -table. Therefore her late arrival could be no grave matter in the end. -Meanwhile, the empty chair on the Duke’s right awaited her. - -They were a very merry company, and as time passed they grew merrier. -There was Etheredge, of course, the real promoter of the whole affair, -and this elegant, talented libertine who was ultimately--and at a still -early age--to kill himself with drinking was doing the fullest justice -to the reputation which the winecup had already earned him. There was -Sedley, that other gifted profligate, whose slim, graceful person and -almost feminine beauty gave little indication of the roistering soul -within. Young Rochester should have been of the party, but he was at -that moment in the Tower, whither he had been sent as a consequence -of his utterly foolish and unnecessary attempt to abduct Miss Mallet -two nights ago. But Sir Harry Stanhope filled his vacant place--or, at -least, half-filled it, for whilst Rochester was both wit and libertine, -young Stanhope was a libertine only. And of course there was Sir Thomas -Ogle, that boon companion of Sedley’s, and two other gentlemen whose -names have not survived. The ladies were of less distinguished lineage. -There was the ravishingly fair little Anne Seymour from the Duke’s -House, her white shoulders displayed in a _décolletage_ that outraged -even the daring fashion of the day. Seated between Stanhope and Ogle, -she was likely to become a bone of contention between them in a measure -as they drowned restraint in wine. There was Moll Davis from the King’s -House seated on the Duke’s left, with Etheredge immediately below her -and entirely engrossing her, and there was that dark, statuesque, -insolent-eyed Jane Howden, languidly spreading her nets for Sir Charles -Sedley, who showed himself willing and eager to be taken in them. A -fourth lady on Ogle’s left was making desperate but futile attempts to -draw Sir Thomas’s attention from Miss Seymour. - -The feast was worthy of the exalted host, worthy of that noble chamber -with its richly carved wainscoting, its lofty ceiling carried on -graceful fluted pillars, lighted by a hundred candles in colossal -gilded girandoles. The wine flowed freely, and the wit, flavoured with -a salt that was not entirely Attic, flowed with it. Laughter swelled -increasing ever in a measure as the wit diminished. Supper was done, -and still they kept the table, over their wine, waiting for that -belated guest whose seat continued vacant. - -Above that empty place sat the Duke--a dazzling figure in a suit of -shimmering white satin with diamond buttons that looked like drops of -water. Enthroned in his great gilded chair, he seemed to sit apart, -absorbed, aloof, fretted by the absence of the lady in whose honour he -had spread this feast, and annoyed with himself for being so fretted, -as if he were some callow schoolboy at his first assignation. - -Alone of all that company he did not abuse the wine. Again and again he -waved away the velvet-footed lackeys that approached to pour for him. -Rarely he smiled as some lively phrase leapt forth to excite the ready -laughter of his guests. His eyes observed them, noting the flushed -faces and abandoned attitudes as the orgy mounted to its climax. He -would have restrained them, but that for a host to do so were in his -view an offence against good manners. Gloomily, abstractedly, his eyes -wandered from the disorder of the table, laden with costly plate of -silver and of gold, with sparkling crystal, with pyramids of fragrant -fruits and splendours of flowers that already were being used as -missiles by his hilarious guests. - -From the chilly heights of his own unusual sobriety he found them gross -and tiresome; their laughter jarred on him. He shifted his weary glance -to the curtains masking the long windows. They draped the window-spaces -almost from floor to ceiling, wedges of brilliant colour--between blue -and green, upon which golden peacocks strutted--standing out sharply -from the sombre richness of the dark wainscot. He strained his ears to -catch some rumble of wheels in the courtyard under those windows, and -he frowned as a fresh and prolonged burst of laughter from his guests -beat upon his ears to shut out all other sounds. - -Then Sedley in a maudlin voice began to sing a very questionable song -of his own writing, whilst Miss Howden made a comedy of pretending -to silence him. He was still singing it, when Stanhope sprang up and -mounted his chair, holding aloft a dainty shoe of which he had stripped -Miss Seymour, and calling loudly for wine. Pretty little Anne would -have snatched back her footgear but that she was restrained by Ogle, -who not only held her firmly, but had pulled her into his lap, where -she writhed and screamed and giggled all in one. - -Solemnly, as if it were the most ordinary and natural of things, a -lackey poured wine into the shoe, as Stanhope bade him. And Stanhope, -standing above them, gay and flushed, proposed a toast the terms of -which I have no intention of repeating. - -He was midway through when the twin doors behind the Duke were thrown -open by a chamberlain, whose voice rang solemnly above the general din. - -“Miss Sylvia Farquharson, may it please your grace.” - -There was a momentary pause as of surprise; then louder than ever rose -their voices in hilarious acclamation of the announcement. - -Buckingham sprang up and round, and several others rose with him to -give a proper welcome to the belated guest. Stanhope, one foot on his -chair, the other on the table, bowed to her with a flourish of the -slipper from which he had just drunk. - -She stood at gaze, breathless and suddenly pale, on the summit of the -three steps that led down to the level of the chamber, her startled, -dilating eyes pondering fearfully that scene of abandonment. She saw -little Anne Seymour, whom she knew, struggling and laughing in the arms -of Sir Thomas Ogle. She saw Etheredge, whom she also knew, sitting with -flushed face and leering eyes, an arm about the statuesque bare neck of -Miss Howden, her lovely dark head upon his shoulder; she saw Stanhope -on high, capering absurdly, his wig awry, his speech halting and -indecorous; and she saw some others in attitudes that even more boldly -proclaimed the licence presiding over this orgy to which she had been -bidden. - -Lastly she saw the tall white figure of the Duke advancing towards her, -his eyes narrowed, a half-smile on his full lips, both hands outheld in -welcome. He moved correctly, with that almost excessive grace that was -his own, and he at least showed no sign of the intoxication that marked -the guests at this Circean feast. But that afforded her no reassurance. -From pale that they had been, her cheeks--her whole body, it seemed to -her--had flamed a vivid scarlet. Now it was paling again, paling this -time in terror and disgust. - -Fascinatedly she watched his grace’s advance for a moment. Then -incontinently she turned, and fled, with the feelings of one who -had looked down for a moment into the pit of hell and drawn back in -shuddering horror before being engulfed. - -Behind her fell a dead silence of astonishment. It endured whilst you -might have counted six. Then a great peal of demoniac laughter came -like an explosion to drive her fearfully onward. - -Down the long panelled gallery she ran as we run in a nightmare, making -for all her efforts but indifferent speed upon the polished, slippery -floor, gasping for breath in her terror of a pursuit of which she -fancied that already she heard the steps behind her. She reached the -hall, darted across this, and across the vestibule, her light silk -mantle streaming behind her, and so gained at last the open door, -stared at by lackeys, who wondered, but made no attempt to stay her. - -Too late came the shout from the pursuing Duke ordering them to bar -her way. By then she was already in the courtyard, and running like -a hare for the gateway that opened upon Whitehall. Out of this the -hackney-coach that had brought her was at that moment slowly rumbling. -Panting she overtook it, just as the driver brought it to a halt in -obedience to her cry. - -“To Salisbury Court,” she gasped. “Drive quickly!” - -She was in, and she had slammed the door as the Duke’s lackeys--three -of them--ran alongside the vehicle, bawling their commands to stop. She -flung half her body through the window on the other side to countermand -the order. - -“Drive on! Drive quickly, in God’s name!” - -Had they still been in the courtyard, it is odds that the driver would -not have dared proceed. But they were already through the gateway -in Whitehall itself, and the coach swung round to the left in the -direction of Charing Cross. Here in the open street the driver could -defy the Duke’s lackeys, and the latter dared not make any determined -attempt to hinder him. - -The coach rolled on, and Miss Farquharson sank back to breathe at last, -to recover from her nameless terror and to regain her calm. - -The Duke went back with dragging feet and scowling brow to be greeted -by a storm of derision upon which in more sober mood his guests would -hardly have ventured. He attempted to laugh with them, to dissemble the -extent to which he had been galled. But he hardly made a success of -it, and there was distinct ill-temper in the manner in which he flung -himself down into his great chair. Mr. Etheredge, leaning across Miss -Howden, laid a white jewelled hand on his friend’s arm. - -He alone of all the company, although he had probably drunk more deeply -than any, showed no sign of intoxication beyond the faint flush about -his eyes. - -“I warned you,” he said, “that the little prude is virtuous, and that -she will require much patience. This is your chance to exercise it.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -MR. ETHEREDGE ADVISES - - -Towards midnight, when all the guests but Etheredge had departed, -and the candles lighting the disordered room were guttering in their -sconces, the Duke sat alone in council with the younger libertine. -He had dismissed his servants; the doors were closed, and they were -entirely private. - -The Duke unburdened himself, bitterly and passionately. The patience -which Etheredge counselled was altogether beyond him, he confessed. -More than ever now, when, by the exercise of it, by moving circuitously -to his ends, he had so scared the little prude that he was worse off -than at the outset. - -Etheredge smiled. - -“You’re a prodigiously ungrateful fellow. You go clumsily to work and -then you blame me for the failure of your endeavours. Had you asked me, -I could have told you what must happen with a parcel of fools and sluts -who haven’t learnt the art of carrying their wine in decent fashion. -Had she arrived at the appointed time, whilst they were still sober, -all might have been well. She might have come to share, in part, at -least, their intoxication, and so she would have viewed their antics -through eyes that wine had rendered tolerant and kindly. As it is, you -merely offended her by a disgusting spectacle; and that is very far -from anything that I advised.” - -“Be that as it may,” said the ill-humoured Duke, “there is a laugh -against me that is to be redeemed. I am for directer measures now.” - -“Directer measures?” Etheredge’s brows went up. He uttered a musical, -scornful little laugh. “Is this your patience?” - -“A pox on patience....” - -“Then she is not for you. Wait a moment, my sweet Bucks. I have no -illusions as to what you mean by direct measures. You are probably more -sober than I am; but then I am more intelligent than you. Out of my -intelligence let me inform your sobriety.” - -“Oh, come to the point.” - -“I am coming to it. If you mean to carry the girl off, I’ll be -reminding you that at law it’s a hanging matter.” - -The Duke stared at him in disdainful amazement. Then he uttered a sharp -laugh of derision. - -“At law? Pray, my good George, what have I to do with the law?” - -“By which you mean that you are above it.” - -“That is where usually I have found myself.” - -“Usually. The times are not usual. The times are monstrous unusual. -Rochester, no doubt, thought as you do when he carried off Miss Mallet -on Friday night. Yet Rochester is in the Tower in consequence.” - -“And you think they’ll hang him?” Buckingham sneered. - -“No. They won’t hang him, because the abduction was an unnecessary -piece of buffoonery--because he is ready to mend Miss Mallet’s honour -by marrying her.” - -“Let me perish, George, but you’re more drunk than I thought. Miss -Mallet is a person of importance in the world with powerful friends....” - -“Miss Farquharson, too, has friends. Betterton is her friend, and he -wields a deal of influence. You don’t lack for enemies to stir things -up against you....” - -“Oh, but a baggage of the theatre!” Buckingham was incredulously -scornful. - -“These baggages of the theatre are beloved of the people, and the -mood of the people of London at present is not one I should care to -ruffle were I Duke of Buckingham. There is a war to excite them, and -the menace of the plague to scare them into making examinations of -conscience. There are preachers, too, going up and down the Town, -proclaiming that this is a visitation of God upon the new Sodom. The -people are listening. They are beginning to point to Whitehall as the -source of all the offences that have provoked the wrath of Heaven. And -they don’t love you, Bucks, any more than they love me. They don’t -understand us, and--to be plain--our names, yours and mine and several -others, are beginning to stink in their nostrils. Give them such an -argument as this against you, and they’ll see the law fulfilled. Never -doubt that. The English are an easy-going people on the surface, which -has led some fools to their undoing by abusing them. The spot where His -Majesty’s father lost his head is within easy view of these windows. - -“And so I tell you that the thing which you intend to do, which would -be fraught with risks at any time, is certain destruction to you at -this present. The very eminence upon which you count for safety would -prove your undoing. The fierce light that beats upon a throne beats -upon those who are about it. A more obscure man might do this thing -with less risk to himself than you would run.” - -His grace discarded at last his incredulous scorn, and gave himself up -to gloomy thought. Etheredge, leaning back in his chair, watched him, -faintly, cynically amused. At length the Duke stirred and raised his -handsome eyes to his friend’s face. - -“Don’t sit there grinning--damn you!--advise me.” - -“To what end, since you won’t follow my advice?” - -“Still, let me hear it. What is it?” - -“Forget the girl, and look for easier game. You are hardly young enough -for such an arduous and tiring hunt as this.” - -His grace damned him roundly for a scoffer, and swore that he would not -abandon the affair; that, at whatever cost, he would pursue it. - -“Why, then, you must begin by effacing the bad impression you have made -to-night. That will not be easy; indeed, it is the most difficult step -of all. But there are certain things in your favour. For one, you were -not, for a wonder, drunk, yourself, when you rose to welcome her. Let -us hope that she observed it. Pay her a visit on Monday at the theatre -to tender your most humble apologies for the disgraceful conduct of -your guests. Had you known them capable of such abandoned behaviour, -you would never have bidden her make one of such a company. You will -profess yourself glad that she departed instantly; that is what you -would, yourself, have advised.” - -“But I pursued her. My lackeys sought to stay her coach.” - -“Naturally--so that you might make her your apologies, and approve a -departure which in the circumstances you must have urged. Damme, Bucks! -You have no invention, and you desire to deem yourself a dramatist.” - -“You think she will believe me?” His grace was dubious. - -“That will depend upon your acting, and you are reputed something of an -actor. God knows you played the mountebank once to some purpose. Have -you forgotten?” - -“No, no. But will it serve, do you think?” - -“As a beginning. But you must follow it up. You must reveal yourself -in a new character. Hitherto she has known you, first by repute and -to-night by experience, a rake. That in itself makes her wary of -you. Let her behold you as a hero; say, as a rescuer of beauty in -distress--herself in the distressful part. Deliver her from some deadly -peril, and thereby earn her gratitude and her wonder at your prowess. -Women love a hero. So be heroical, and who knows what good fortune may -attend your heroism.” - -“And the deadly peril?” quoth the Duke gloomily, almost suspecting that -his friend was rallying him. “Where shall I find that?” - -“If you wait to find it, you may have long to wait. You must, yourself, -provide it. A little contriving, a little invention, will soon supply -what you lack.” - -“Can you propose anything? Can you be more than superiorly vague?” - -“I hope so. With a little thought....” - -“Then, in God’s name, think.” - -Etheredge laughed at his host’s vehemence. He brimmed himself a cup of -wine, surveyed the rich glow of it in the candlelight and drank it off. - -“Inspiration flows. Invention stirs within me. Now listen.” And sitting -forward he propounded a plan of campaign with that rascally readiness -of wit that was at once his glory and his ruin. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -ALBEMARLE PROPOSES - - -Ned Tucker did not long leave his proposal to Holles unconfirmed. He -sought him in the matter again at the Paul’s Head three days later, -on the Sunday, and sat long in talk with him in the little parlour, -to the profound disquieting of Mrs. Quinn, who had observed from the -gentleman’s bearing and apparel that he was a person of consequence. - -He found the Colonel a little more malleable to-day, a little less -insistent upon serving only governments _in esse_. The fact was that, -as day followed day without word from Albemarle, Holles approached the -conclusion that things were indeed as Tucker had represented them. His -hopes sank, and his dread of that score of his which was daily mounting -at the Paul’s Head added to his despair. - -Still, he did not altogether yield to Tucker’s persuasions; but neither -did he discourage him when the latter promised to visit him again on -the morrow, bringing another old friend of their Parliament days. And -on the Monday, true to his promise, Tucker came again, accompanied this -time by a gentleman some years his senior, named Rathbone, with whom -Colonel Holles recalled some slight acquaintance. This time they came -with a very definite proposal, empowered, so they told him, by one -whose name they would not yet utter, but which, if uttered, must remove -his every doubt. - -“For that, Randal, you will accept our word, I know,” said the grave -Tucker. - -Holles nodded his agreement, and the proposal was disclosed. It offered -him a position which in an established government would have been -dazzling. It was dazzling even as things were, to one in his desperate -case, driven to the need of making a gambler’s throw. If on the one -side he probably set his head, at least the stake they offered could -hardly have been greater. - -And they tempted him further by revelations of how far their -preparations were advanced, and how thorough these were. - -“Heaven,” said Rathbone, “is on our side. It has sent this plague -to stir men to bethink themselves of the rulers they have chosen. -Our agents have discovered four cases in the City to-day: one in -Wood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in Crooked Lane. The -authorities hoped to keep it from the knowledge of the people. But -we are seeing to that. At this moment our preachers are proclaiming -it, spreading terror that men may be driven by it to the paths of -righteousness.” - -“When the devil was sick the devil a monk would be,” said Holles. “I -understand.” - -“Then you should see that all is ready, the mine is laid,” Tucker -admonished him. “This is your opportunity, Randal. If you delay now....” - -A tap at the door interrupted him. Tucker bounded up, propelled by his -uneasy conspirator’s conscience. Rathbone, too, glanced round uneasily. - -“Why, what’s to startle you?” said the Colonel quietly, smiling to -behold their fears. “It is but my good hostess.” - -She came in from the common room bearing a letter that had just been -brought for Colonel Holles. - -He took it, wondering; then, observing the great seal, a little colour -crept into his cheeks. He spread the sheet, and read, under the -observing eyes of his friends and his hostess, and they were all alike -uneasy. - -Twice he read that letter before he spoke. The unexpected had -happened, and it had happened at the eleventh hour, barely in time to -arrest him on the brink of what might well prove a precipice. Thus he -saw it now, his vision altering with his fortunes. - -“Luck has stood your friend sooner than we could have hoped,” wrote -Albemarle. “A military post in the Indies has, as I learn from letters -just received, fallen vacant. It is an important command full worthy -of your abilities, and there, overseas, you will be safe from all -inquisitions. If you will wait upon me here at the Cockpit this -afternoon, you shall be further informed.” - -He begged his friends to excuse him a moment, took pen, ink, and paper -from the sideboard and quickly wrote a few lines in answer. - -When Mrs. Quinn had departed to convey that note to the messenger, and -the door had closed again, the two uneasy conspirators started up. -Questions broke simultaneously from both of them. For answer Holles -placed Albemarle’s letter on the table. Tucker snatched it up, and -conned it, whilst over his shoulder Rathbone read it, too. - -At last Tucker lowered the sheet, and his grave eyes fell again upon -Holles. - -“And you have answered--what?” he demanded. - -“That I will wait upon his grace this afternoon as he requires of me.” - -“But to what end?” asked Rathbone. “You can’t mean that you will accept -employment from a government that is doomed.” - -The Colonel shrugged. “As I have told Tucker from the first, I serve -governments; I do not make them.” - -“But just now....” Tucker was beginning. - -“I wavered. It is true. But something else has been flung into the -scales.” And he held up Albemarle’s letter. - -They argued with him after that; but they argued vainly. - -“If I am of value to your government when you shall have established -it, you will know where to find me; and you will know from what has -happened now that I am trustworthy.” - -“But your value to us is now, in the struggle that is coming. And it is -for this that we are prepared to reward you richly.” - -He was not, however, to be moved. The letter from Albemarle had reached -him an hour too soon. - -At parting he assured them that their secret was safe with him, and -that he would forget all that they had said. Since, still, they had -disclosed no vital facts whose betrayal could frustrate their purpose, -it was an almost unnecessary assurance. - -They stalked out resentfully. But Tucker returned alone a moment later. - -“Randal,” he said, “it may be that upon reflection you will come to -see the error of linking yourself to a government that cannot endure, -to the service of a king against whom the hand of Heaven is already -raised. You may come to prefer the greatness that we offer you in the -future to this crust that Albemarle throws you at the moment. If you -are wise, you will. If so, you know where to find me. Seek me there, -and be sure of my welcome as of my friendship.” - -They shook hands and parted, and with a sigh and a smile Holles turned -to load himself a pipe. He was not, he thought, likely to see Tucker -again. - -That afternoon he waited upon Albemarle, who gave him particulars of -the appointment he had to offer. It was an office of importance, the -pay was good, and so that Holles discharged his duties well, which the -Duke had no occasion to doubt, there would be even better things in -store for him before very long. - -“The one thing to efface the past is a term of service now, wheresoever -it may be. Hereafter when I commend you for some other place, here at -home, perhaps, and I am asked what are your antecedents, I need but -point to the stout service you will have done us in the Indies, and men -will inquire no further. It is a temporary exile, but you may trust me -to see that it endures no longer than is necessary.” - -No such advocacy was needed to induce Holles to accept an office that, -after all, was of an importance far beyond anything for which he could -reasonably have hoped. He said so frankly by way of expressing his deep -gratitude. - -“In that case, you will seek me again here to-morrow morning. Your -commission shall be meanwhile made out.” - -The Colonel departed jubilant. At last--at long last--after infinite -frowns, Fortune accorded him a smile. And she accorded it in the very -nick of time, just as he was touching the very depths of his despair -and ready to throw in his lot with a parcel of crazy fanatics who -dreamed of another revolution. - -So back to the Paul’s Head he came with his soaring spirits, and called -for a bottle of the best Canary. Mrs. Quinn read the omens shrewdly. - -“Your affairs at Whitehall have prospered, then?” said she between -question and assertion. - -Holles reclined in an armchair, his legs, from which he had removed his -boots, stretched luxuriously upon a stool, his head thrown back, a pipe -between his lips. - -“Aye. They’ve prospered. Beyond my deserts,” said he, smiling at the -ceiling. - -“Never that, Colonel. For that’s not possible.” She beamed upon him, -proffering the full stoup. - -He sat up to take it, and looked at her, smiling. - -“No doubt you’re right. But I’ve gone without my deserts so long that I -have lost all sense of them.” - -“There’s others who haven’t,” said she; and timidly added a question -upon the nature of his prosperity. - -He paused to drink a quarter of the wine. Then, as he set down the -vessel on the table at his elbow, he told her. - -Her countenance grew overcast. He was touched to note it, inferring -from this manifest regret at his departure that he had made a friend in -Mrs. Quinn. - -“And when do you go?” she asked him, oddly breathless. - -“In a week’s time.” - -She considered him, mournfully he thought; and he also thought that she -lost some of her bright colour. - -“And to the Indies!” she ejaculated slowly. “Lord! Among savages and -heathen blacks! Why, you must be crazed to think of it.” - -“Beggars may not choose, ma’am. I go where I can find employment. -Besides, it is not as bad as you imagine.” - -“But where’s the need to go at all, when, as I’ve told you already, -such a man as yourself should be thinking of settling down at home and -taking a wife?” - -She realized that the time had come to deliver battle. It was now or -never. And thus she sent out a preliminary skirmishing party. - -“Why, look at yourself,” she ran on, before he could answer. “Look at -the condition of you.” And she pointed a denunciatory finger at the -great hole in the heel of his right stocking. “You should be seeking -a woman to take care of you, instead of letting your mind run on -soldiering in foreign parts.” - -“Excellent advice,” he laughed. “There is one difficulty only. Who -takes a wife must keep a wife, and, if I stay in England, I shan’t have -enough to keep myself. So I think it’ll be the Indies, after all.” - -She came to the table, and leaned upon it, facing him. - -“You’re forgetting something. There’s many a woman well endowed, and -there’s many a man has taken a wife with a jointure who couldn’t ha’ -taken a wife without.” - -“You said something of the kind before.” Again he laughed. “You think I -should be hunting an heiress. You think I have the figure for the part.” - -“I do,” said she, to his astonishment. “You’re a proper man, and you’ve -a name and a position to offer. There’s many a wealthy woman of modest -birth would be glad of you, as you should be glad of her, since each -would bring what the other lacks.” - -“Faith! You think of everything. Carry your good offices further than -mere advice, Mrs. Quinn. Find me this wealthy and accommodating lady, -and I’ll consider the rejection of this Indian office. But you’ll need -to make haste, for there’s only a week left.” - -It was a laughing challenge, made on the assumption that it would not -be taken up, and, as she looked away uncomfortably under his glance, -his laughter increased. - -“That’s not quite so easy as advising, is it?” he rallied her. - -She commanded herself, and looked him squarely in the eyes. - -“Oh, yes, it is,” she assured him. “If you was serious I could soon -produce the lady--a comely enough woman of about your own age, mistress -of thirty thousand pounds and some property, besides.” - -That sobered him. He stared at her a moment; the pipe between his -fingers. - -“And she would marry a vagabond? Odds, my life! What ails her?” - -“Naught ails her. If you was serious I’d present her.” - -“’Sblood! you make me serious. Thirty thousand pounds! Faith, that is -serious enough. I could set up as a country squire on that.” - -“Then why don’t you?” - -Really, she was bewildering, he thought, with her calm assumptions that -it was for him to say the word. - -“Because there’s no such woman.” - -“And if there was?” - -“But there isn’t.” - -“I tell you there is.” - -“Where is she, then?” - -Mrs. Quinn moved away from the table, and round to his side of it. - -“She is ... here.” - -“Here?” he echoed. - -She drew a step or two nearer, so that she was almost beside him. - -“Here in this room,” she insisted, softly. - -He looked up at her, still uncomprehending. Then, as he observed the -shy smile with which she sought to dissemble her agitation, the truth -broke upon him at last. - -The clay stem of his pipe snapped between his fingers, and he dived -after the pieces, glad of any pretext to remove his eyes from her -face and give him a moment in which to consider how he should conduct -himself in this novel and surprising situation. - -When he came up again, his face was flushed, which may have been from -the lowering of his head. He wanted to laugh; but he realized that -this would be utterly unpardonable. He rose, and set the pieces of the -broken pipe on the table. Standing thus, his shoulder to her, he spoke -gently, horribly embarrassed. - -“I ... I had no notion of ... of your meaning....” And there he broke -down. - -But his embarrassment encouraged her. Again she came close. - -“And now that you know it, Colonel?” she whispered. - -“I ... I don’t know what to say.” - -His mind was beginning to recover its functions. He understood at last -why a person of his shabby exterior and obvious neediness should have -been given unlimited credit in this house. - -“Then say nothing at all, Colonel dear,” she was purring. “Save that -you’ll put from you all notion of sailing to the Indies.” - -“But ... but my word is pledged already.” It was a straw at which he -clutched, desperately. And it was not a very fortunate one, for it -suggested that his pledged word was the only obstacle. - -The effect was to bring her closer still. She was almost touching -him, as he stood there, still half averted, and she actually leaned -against him, and set a hand upon his shoulder as she spoke, coaxingly, -persuasively. - -“But it was pledged before ... before you knew of this. His grace will -understand. He’ll never hold you to it. You’ve but to explain.” - -“I ... I couldn’t. I couldn’t,” he cried weakly. - -“Then I can.” - -“You?” He looked at her. - -She was pale, but resolute. “Yes, me,” she answered him. “If your -pledge is all that holds you, I’ll take coach at once and go to -Whitehall. George Monk’ll see me, or if he won’t his Duchess will. I -knew her well in the old days, when I was a young girl, and she was a -sempstress glad to earn a groat where she could. Nan Clarges’ll never -deny herself to an old friend. So if you but say the word, I’ll soon -deliver you from this pledge of yours.” - -His face lengthened. He looked away again. - -“That is not all, Mrs. Quinn,” he said, very gently. “The truth is ... -I am not of a ... a nature to make a woman happy.” - -This she deemed mere coyness, and swept it briskly aside. “I’d take the -risk of that.” - -“But ... but ... you see I’ve lived this roving life of mine so long, -that I do not think I could ever settle. Besides, ma’am, what have I to -offer?” - -“If I am satisfied with my bargain, why take thought for that?” - -“I must. The fact is, I am touched, deeply touched. I did not think I -had it in me to arouse the affection, or even the regard, of any woman. -Even so, ma’am, whilst it moves me, it does not change my purpose. I am -not a marrying man.” - -“But....” - -He raised a hand, dominantly, to check her. He had found the correct -formula at last, and he meant to keep to it. - -“Useless to argue, ma’am. I know my mind. My reasons are as I have -said, and so is the fact. I am touched; I am prodigiously touched, and -grateful. But there it is.” - -His firmness turned her white with mortification. To have offered -herself, and to have been refused! To have this beggar turn his -shoulder upon her, finding her so little to his taste that not even -her thirty thousand pounds could gild her into attractiveness! It was -a bitter draught, and it called up bitterness from the depths of her -soul. As she considered him now with her vivid blue eyes, her face -grew mottled. She was moved to sudden hatred of him. Nothing short of -killing him could, she felt, extinguish that tormenting hate. - -She felt impelled to break into violent recriminations, yet could find -nothing upon which to recriminate. If only she could have thrown it -in his face that he had afforded her encouragement, trifled with her -affections, lured her on, to put this terrible affront upon her, she -might have eased herself of some of the gall within her. But she could -charge him with nothing that would bear the form of words. - -And so she considered him in silence, her abundant bosom heaving, her -eyes growing almost baleful in their glance, whilst he stood awkwardly -before her, his gaze averted, staring through the open window, and -making no attempt to add anything to what already he had said. - -At last on a long indrawn breath she moved. - -“I see,” she said quietly. “I am sorry to have....” - -“Please!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hand again to arrest her, an -infinite pity stirring in him. - -She walked to the door, moving a little heavily. She opened it, and -then paused under the lintel. Over her shoulder she spoke to him again. - -“Seeing that things is like this, perhaps you’ll make it convenient to -find another lodging not later than to-morrow.” - -He inclined his head a little in agreement. - -“Naturally....” he was beginning, when the door closed after her with a -bang and he was left alone. - -“Phew!” he breathed, as he sank limply into his chair again. He passed -a hand wearily across his brow, and found it moist. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -BUCKINGHAM DISPOSES - - -Colonel Holles hummed softly to himself as he dressed with care to -keep his momentous appointment at the Cockpit, and when his toilet -was completed you would scarcely have known him for the down-at-heel -adventurer of yesterday, so fine did he appear. - -Early that morning he had emptied the contents of his purse upon the -bed, and counted up his fortune. It amounted to thirty-five pounds and -some shillings. And Albemarle had promised him that, together with his -commission, he should that morning receive an order on the Treasury -for thirty pounds to meet his disbursements on equipment and the rest. -He must, he considered, do credit to his patron. He argued that it -was a duty. To present himself again at Whitehall in his rags were to -disgrace the Duke of Albemarle; there might be introductions, and he -would not have his grace blush for the man he was protecting. - -Therefore, immediately after an early breakfast--at which, for once, he -had been waited upon, not by Mrs. Quinn, but by Tim the drawer--he had -sallied forth and made his way to Paternoster Row. There, yielding to -the love of fine raiment inseparable from the adventurous temperament -and to the improvident disposition that accompanies it, and also having -regard to the officially military character he was about to assume, he -purchased a fine coat of red camlet laced with gold, and small-clothes, -stockings, and cravat in keeping. By the time he added a pair of boots -of fine Spanish leather, a black silk sash, a new, gold-broidered -baldric, and a black beaver with a trailing red plume, he found that -fully three quarters of his slender fortune was dissipated, and -there remained in his purse not above eight pounds. But that should -not trouble a man who within a couple of hours would have pocketed an -order upon the Treasury. He had merely anticipated the natural course -of events, and counted himself fortunate to be, despite his reduced -circumstances, still able to do so. - -He had returned then with his bundle to the Paul’s Head, and, as he -surveyed himself now in his mirror, freshly shaven, his long thick -gold-brown hair elegantly curled, and a clump of its curls caught in a -ribbon on his left, the long pear-shaped ruby glowing in his ear, his -throat encased in a creaming froth of lace, and the fine red coat that -sat so admirably upon his shoulders, he smiled at the memory of the -scarecrow he had been as lately as yesterday, and assured himself that -he did not look a day over thirty. - -He created something of a sensation when he appeared below in all this -finery, and, since it was unthinkable that he should tread the filth -of the streets with his new Spanish boots, Tim was dispatched for a -hackney-coach to convey the Colonel to Whitehall. - -It still wanted an hour to noon, and this the Colonel considered the -earliest at which he could decently present himself. But early as it -was there was another who had been abroad and at the Cockpit even -earlier. This was His Grace of Buckingham, who, accompanied by his -friend Sir Harry Stanhope, had sought the Duke of Albemarle a full hour -before Colonel Holles had been ready to leave his lodging. - -A gentleman of the Duke’s eminence was not to be kept waiting. He had -been instantly admitted to that pleasant wainscoted room overlooking -the Park in which His Grace of Albemarle transacted business. Wide as -the poles as were the two dukes asunder, the exquisite libertine and -the dour soldier, yet cordial relations prevailed between them. Whilst -correct and circumspect in his own ways of life, Monk was utterly -without bigotry and as utterly without prejudices on the score of -morals. Under his dour taciturnity, and for all that upon occasion he -could be as brave as a lion, yet normally he was of the meekness of a -lamb, combined with a courteous aloofness, which, if it earned him few -devoted friends, earned him still fewer enemies. As a man gives, so he -receives; and Monk, being very sparing both of his love and his hate, -rarely excited either passion in others. He was careful not to make -enemies, but never at pains to make friends. - -“I desire your leave to present to your grace my very good friend Sir -Harry Stanhope, a deserving young soldier for whom I solicit your -grace’s good offices.” - -Albemarle had heard of Sir Harry as one of the most dissolute -young profligates about the Court, and, observing him now, his -grace concluded that the gentleman’s appearance did justice to his -reputation. It was the first time that he had heard him described as -a soldier, and the description awakened his surprise. But of this he -betrayed nothing. Coldly he inclined his head in response to the diving -bow with which Sir Harry honoured him. - -“There is no need to solicit my good offices for any friend of your -grace’s,” he answered, coldly courteous. “A chair, your grace. Sir -Harry!” He waved the fop to the second and lesser of the two chairs -that faced his writing-table, and when they were seated he resumed his -own place, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “Will -your grace acquaint me how I may have the honour of being of service?” - -“Sir Harry,” said Buckingham, leaning back in his armchair, and -throwing one faultlessly stockinged leg over the other, “desires, for -certain reasons of his own, to see the world.” - -Albemarle had no illusions as to what those reasons were. It was -notorious that Harry Stanhope had not only gamed away the inheritance -upon which he had entered three years ago, but that he was colossally -in debt, and that, unless some one came to his rescue soon, his -creditors might render life exceedingly unpleasant for him. He would -not be the first gay butterfly of the Court to make the acquaintance of -a sponging house. But of that thought, as it flashed through the mind -of the Commander-in-Chief, no indication showed on his swart, set face -and expressionless dark eyes. - -“But Sir Harry,” Buckingham was resuming after the slightest of pauses, -“is commendably moved by the wish to render his absence from England of -profit to His Majesty.” - -“In short,” said Albemarle, translating brusquely, for he could not -repress a certain disdain, “Sir Harry desires an appointment overseas.” - -Buckingham dabbed his lips with a lace handkerchief. “That, in short,” -he admitted, “is the situation. Sir Harry will, I trust, deserve well -in your grace’s eyes.” - -His grace looked at Sir Harry, and found that he did nothing of the -kind. From his soul, unprejudiced as he was, Albemarle despised the -mincing fop whom he was desired to help to cheat his creditors. - -“And the character of this appointment?” he inquired tonelessly. - -“A military character would be best suited to Sir Harry’s tastes and -qualities. He has the advantage of some military experience. He held -for a time a commission in the Guards.” - -“In the Guards!” thought Albemarle. “My God! What a recommendation!” -But his expression said nothing. His owlish eyes were levelled calmly -upon the young rake, who smiled ingratiatingly, and thereby, did he -but know it, provoked Albemarle’s disgust. Aloud, at length, he made -answer: “Very well. I will bear in mind your grace’s application on Sir -Harry’s behalf, and when a suitable position offers....” - -“But it offers now,” Buckingham interjected languidly. - -“Indeed?” The black brows went up, wrinkling the heavy forehead. “I am -not aware of it.” - -“There is this command in Bombay, which has fallen vacant through the -death of poor Macartney. I heard of it last night at Court. You are -forgetting that, I think. It is an office eminently suitable to Sir -Harry here.” - -Albemarle was frowning. He pondered a moment; but only because it was -ever his way to move slowly. Then he gently shook his head and pursed -his heavy lips. - -“I have also to consider, your grace, whether Sir Harry is eminently -suitable to the office, and, to be quite frank, and with all -submission, I must say that I cannot think so.” - -Buckingham was taken aback. He stared haughtily at Albemarle. “I don’t -think I understand,” he said. - -Albemarle fetched a sigh, and proceeded to explain himself. - -“For this office--one of considerable responsibility--we require a -soldier of tried experience and character. Sir Harry is no doubt -endowed with many commendable qualities, but at his age it is -impossible that he should have gained the experience without which he -could not possibly discharge to advantage the onerous duties which -would await him. Nor is that the only obstacle, your grace. I have not -only chosen my man--and such a man as I have described--but I have -already offered, and he has already accepted, the commission. So that -the post can no longer be considered vacant.” - -“But the commission was signed only last night by His Majesty--signed -in blank, as I have reason to know.” - -“True. But I am none the less pledged. I am expecting at any moment -now, the gentleman upon whom the appointment is already conferred.” - -Buckingham did not dissemble his annoyance. “May one inquire his -name?” he asked, and the question was a demand. - -Albemarle hesitated. He realized the danger to Holles in naming him at -this unfortunate juncture. Buckingham might go to any lengths to have -him removed, and there was that in Holles’s past, in his very name, -which would supply abundant grounds. “His name would not be known -to your grace. He is a comparatively obscure soldier, whose merits, -however, are fully known to me, and I am persuaded that a fitter man -for the office could not be found. But something else will, no doubt, -offer within a few days, and then....” - -Buckingham interrupted him arrogantly. - -“It is not a question of something else, your grace, but of this. I -have already obtained His Majesty’s sanction. It is at his suggestion -that I am here. It is fortunate that the person you had designated for -the command is obscure. He will have to give way, and you may console -him with the next vacant post. If your grace requires more explicit -instruction I shall be happy to obtain you His Majesty’s commands in -writing.” - -Albemarle was checkmated. He sat there grim and impassive as if he were -carved of stone. But his mind was a seething cauldron of anger. It was -always thus. The places of trust, the positions demanding experienced -heads and able hands that England might be served to the best advantage -by her most meritorious sons, were constantly being flung away upon -the worthless parasites that flocked about Charles’s lecherous Court. -And he was the more angered here, because his hands were tied against -resistance by the very identity of the man he was appointing. Had it -been a question of any other man of Holles’s soldierly merit, but of -such antecedents as would permit the disclosure of his name, he would -clap on his hat and step across to the palace to argue the matter with -the King. And he would know how to conduct the argument so as to -prevail against the place-seeking insolence of Buckingham. But, as it -was, he was forced to realize that he could do none of this without -perhaps dooming Holles and bringing heavy censure fruitlessly upon -himself. “Oddsfish!” the King would cry. “Do you tell me to my face -that you prefer the son of a regicide to the friend of my friend?” And -what should he answer then? - -He lowered his eyes. The commission which was the subject of this -discussion lay there on the table before him, the space which the name -of Randal Holles was intended to occupy still standing blank. He was -defeated, and he had best, for the sake of Holles as much as for his -own, accept the situation without further argument. - -He took up a pen, dipped it, and drew the document to him. - -“Since you have His Majesty’s authority, there can be, of course, no -further question.” - -Rapidly, his quill scratching and spluttering across the sheet, he -filled in the name of Sir Harry Stanhope, bitterly considering that he -might as profitably have filled in Nell Gwynn’s. He dusted the thick -writing with pounce, and proffered it without another word. But his -looks were heavy. - -Buckingham rose, smiling, and Sir Harry bounced up with him, smiling -also. For the first and last time in the course of that short interview -Sir Harry spoke. - -“Your grace’s devoted servant,” he professed himself, bowing and -smirking. “I shall study to discharge my office creditably, and to -allay any qualms my youth may leave in your grace’s mind.” - -“And youth,” said Buckingham, smiling, to reassure Albemarle, “is a -fault that time invariably corrects.” - -Albemarle rose slowly to his feet, and the others bowed themselves out -of his presence. - -Then he sat down again heavily, took his head in his hands, and softly -loosed an oath. - -Holles came an hour later, radiant with expectation, a gay, -youthful-looking, commanding figure in his splendid red coat, to be -crushed by the news that proved him Fortune’s fool again, as ever. - -But he bore it well on the face of him, however deeply the iron was -thrust into his soul. It was Albemarle who for once showed excitement, -Albemarle who inveighed in most unmeasured terms against the corrupt -influence of the Court and the havoc it was working. - -“It needed a man for this office and they have constrained me to give -it to a fribble, a dolly in breeches, a painted dawcock.” - -Holles remembered Tucker’s denunciations of the present government and -began to realize at last how right he was and how justified he and his -associates might be of their conviction that the people were ready to -rise and sweep this Augean stable clean. - -Albemarle was seeking to comfort him with fresh hope. No doubt -something else would offer soon. - -“To be snatched up again by some debt-ridden pimp who wants to escape -his creditors,” said Holles, his tone betraying at last some of the -bitterness fermenting in his soul. - -Albemarle stood sorrowfully regarding him. “This hits you hard, Randal, -I know.” - -The Colonel recovered and forced a laugh. - -“Pooh! Hard hits have mostly been my portion.” - -“I know.” Albemarle paced to the window and back, his head sunk between -his shoulders. Then he came to a halt before the Colonel. “Keep me -informed of where you are lodged, and look to hear from me again as -soon as may be. Be sure that I will do my best.” - -The Colonel’s glance kindled again. It was a flicker of the expiring -flame of hope. - -“You really think that something else will offer?” - -His grace paused before answering, and, in the pause, the sorrowful -gravity of his face increased. - -“To be frank with you, Randal, I hardly dare to _think_ it. Chances -for such as you are, as you understand, not ... frequent. But the -unexpected may happen sooner than we dare to hope. If it does, be sure -I’ll not forget you. Be sure of that.” - -Holles thanked him steadily, and rose to depart, his radiance quenched, -despondency in every line of him. - -Albemarle watched from under furrowed brows. As he reached the door the -Duke detained him. - -“Randal! A moment.” - -The Colonel turned and waited whilst slowly Albemarle approached him. -His grace was deep in thought, and he hesitated before speaking. - -“You ... you are not urgently in need of money, I trust?” he said at -last. - -The Colonel’s gesture and laugh conveyed a shamefaced admission that he -was. - -Albemarle’s eyes considered him a moment still. Then, slowly, he drew a -purse from his pocket. It was apparently a light purse. He unfastened -it. - -“If a loan will help you until....” - -“No, no!” cried Holles, his pride aroused against accepting what -amounted almost to alms. - -Even so the repudiation was no more than half-hearted. But there was -no attempt from Albemarle to combat it. He did not press the offer. He -drew the purse-strings tight again, and his expression was almost one -of relief. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A WOMAN SCORNED - - -Colonel Holles retraced his steps to the City on foot. A hackney-coach, -such as that in which he had driven almost in triumph to the Cockpit, -was no longer for him; nor yet could he submit to the expense of going -by water now that the unexpected was all that stood between himself and -destitution. - -And yet the unexpected was not quite all. An alternative existed, -though a very desperate one. There was the rebellion in which Tucker -had sought fruitlessly hitherto to engage him. The thought of it began -to stir in his dejected mind, as leaden-footed he dragged himself -towards Temple Bar through the almost stifling heat which was making -itself felt in London at the end of that month of May. Temptation urged -him now, nourished not only by the circumstance that in rebellion -lay his last hope of escaping starvation, but also by hot resentment -against an inclement and unjust government that drove able soldiers -such as himself into the kennels, whilst befriending the worthless -minions who pandered to the profligacy of a worthless prince. Vice, -he told himself, was the only passport to service in this England of -the restored Stuarts. Tucker and Rathbone were right. At least what -they did was justified and hallowed by the country’s need of salvation -from the moral leprosy that was fastening upon it, a disease more -devastating and deadly than this plague upon which the republicans -counted to arouse the nation to a sense of its position. - -He counted the cost of failure; but he counted it derisively. His -life would be claimed. That was the stake he set upon the board. But, -considering that it was the only stake remaining him, why hesitate? -What, after all, was this life of his worth that he should be tender of -setting it upon a last throw with Fortune? Fortune favours boldness. -Perhaps in the past he had not been bold enough. - -Deep in his musings he had reached St. Clement Danes, when he was -abruptly aroused by a voice, harsh and warningly commanding. - -“Keep your distance, sir!” - -Checking, he looked round to the right, whence the order came. - -He beheld a man with a pike, who stood before a padlocked door that was -smeared with a red cross a foot in length, above which also in red was -heavily daubed the legend: LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US. - -Taken thus by surprise, the Colonel shuddered as at the contact of -something unclean and horrible. Hastily he stepped out into the middle -of the unpaved street, and, pausing there a moment, glanced up at the -closed shutters of the infected house. It was the first that he had -seen; for although he had come this way a week ago, when the plague -was already active in the neighbourhood, yet it was then confined to -Butcher’s Row on the north side of the church and to the mean streets -that issued thence. To find it thus upon the main road between the City -and Whitehall was to be rendered unpleasantly conscious of its spread. -And, as he now pursued his way with instinctively quickened steps, he -found his thoughts thrust more closely than ever upon the uses which -the revolutionaries could make of this dread pestilence. Much brooding -in his disturbed state of mind distorted his mental vision, so that he -came presently to adopt the view that this plague was a visitation from -Heaven upon a city abandoned to ungodliness. Heaven, it followed, must -be on the side of those who laboured to effect a purifying change. - -The end of it was that, as he toiled up Ludgate Hill towards Paul’s, -his resolve was taken. That evening he would seek Tucker and throw in -his lot with the republicans. - -Coming into Paul’s Yard, he found a considerable crowd assembled -before the western door of the Cathedral. It was composed of people -of all degrees: merchants, shopkeepers, prentices, horseboys, -scavengers, rogues from the alleys that lay behind the Old ’Change, -idlers and sharpers from Paul’s Walk, with a sprinkling of women, -of town-gallants, and of soldiers. And there, upon the steps of the -portico, stood the magnet that had drawn them in the shape of that -black crow of a Jack Presbyter preaching the City’s doom. And his -text--recurring like the refrain of a song--was ever the same: - -“Ye have defiled your sanctuaries by the multitude of your iniquities, -by the iniquity of your traffic.” - -And yet, from between the Corinthian pillars which served him for his -background, had been swept away the milliners’ shops that had stood -there during the Commonwealth. - -Whether some thought of this in the minds of his audience rendered -his words humorously inapt, or whether it was merely that a spirit of -irresponsible ribaldry was infused into the crowd by a crowd of young -apprentices, loud derision greeted the preacher’s utterance. Unshaken -by the laughter and mocking cries, the prophet of doom presented a -fearless and angry front. - -“Repent, ye scoffers!” His voice shrilled to dominate their mirthful -turbulence. “Bethink you of where ye stand! Yet forty days and London -shall be destroyed! The pestilence lays siege unto this city of the -ungodly! Like a raging lion doth it stalk round, seeking where it may -leap upon you. Yet forty days, and....” - -An egg flung by the hand of a butcher’s boy smashed full in his face -to crop his period short. He staggered and gasped as the glutinous mass -of yolk and white crept sluggishly down his beard and dripped thence to -spread upon the rusty black of his coat. - -“Deriders! Scoffers!” he screamed, and with arms that thrashed the air -in imprecation, he looked like a wind-tossed scarecrow. “Your doom is -at hand. Your....” - -A roar of laughter provoked by the spectacle he presented drowned his -frenzied voice, and a shower of offensive missiles pelted him from -every quarter. The last of these was a living cat, which clawed itself -against his breast spitting furiously in its terror. - -Overwhelmed, the prophet turned, and fled between the pillars into the -shelter of Paul’s itself, pursued by laughter and insult. But scarcely -had he disappeared than with uncanny suddenness that laughter sank from -a roar to a splutter. To this succeeded a moment of deadly silence. -Then the crowd broke, and parted, its members departing at speed in -every direction with cries in which horror had taken now the place that -was so lately held by mirth. - -Colonel Holles, finding himself suddenly alone, and as yet very far -from understanding what had taken place to scatter those men and women -in such panic, advanced a step or two into the suddenly emptied space -before the cathedral steps. There on the roughly cobbled ground he -beheld a writhing man, a well-made, vigorous fellow in the very prime -of life, whose dress was that of a tradesman of some prosperity. His -round hat lay beside him where he had fallen, and he rolled his head -from side to side spasmodically, moaning faintly the while. Of his -eyes nothing was visible but the whites, showing under the line of his -half-closed lids. - -As Holles, perceiving here no more than a sick man, continued his -advance, a voice from the retreating crowd shouted a warning to him. - -“Have a care, sir! Have a care! He may be stricken with the plague.” - -The Colonel checked, involuntarily arrested by the horror that the very -word inspired. And then he beheld a stoutish, elderly man in a heavy -wig, plainly but scrupulously dressed in black, whose round countenance -gathered a singularly owlish expression from a pair of horn-rimmed -spectacles, walk calmly forward to the stricken citizen. A moment he -stood beside him looking down; then he turned to beckon a couple of -burly fellows who had the appearance and carried the staves of billmen. -From his pocket the sturdy gentleman in black produced a kerchief upon -which he sprinkled something from a phial. Holding the former to his -nostrils with his left hand, he knelt down beside the sufferer, and -quietly set himself to unfasten the man’s doublet. - -Observing him, the Colonel admired his quiet courage, and thence took -shame at his own fear for his utterly worthless life. Resolutely -putting it from him, he went forward to join that little group. - -The doctor looked round and up at his approach. But Holles had no eyes -at the moment for any but the patient, whose breast the physician had -laid bare. One of the billmen was pointing out to the other a purplish -tumid patch at the base of the sufferer’s throat. His eyes were round, -his face grave, and his voice came hushed and startled. - -“See! The tokens!” he said to his companion. - -And now the doctor spoke, addressing Holles. - -“You would do well not to approach more closely, sir.” - -“Is it ... the plague?” quoth Holles in a quiet voice. - -The doctor nodded, pointing to the purple patch. “The tokens are very -plain to see,” he said. “I beg, sir, that you will go.” And on that he -once more held the handkerchief to his mouth and nostrils, and turned -his shoulder upon the Colonel. - -Holles withdrew as he was bidden, moving slowly and thoughtfully, -stricken by the first sight of the plague at work upon a -fellow-creature. As he approached the edges of the crowd, which, -keeping its distance, yet stood at gaze as crowds will, he observed -that men shrank back from him as if he were himself already tainted. - -A single thing beheld impresses us more deeply than twenty such things -described to us by others. Hitherto these London citizens had treated -lightly this matter of the plague. Not ten minutes ago they had been -deriding and pelting one who had preached repentance and warned them of -the anger of Heaven launched upon them. And then suddenly, like a bolt -from the blue, had come the stroke that laid one of them low, to freeze -their derision and fill their hearts with terror by giving them a sight -of this thing which hitherto they had but heard reported. - -The Colonel stalked on, reflecting that this event in Paul’s Yard had -done more proselytizing for the cause of the Commonwealth than a score -of advocates could have accomplished. It was very well, he thought. It -was a sign. And if anything had been wanting to clinch his decision to -throw in his lot with Tucker, this supplied it. - -But first to quench the prodigious thirst engendered by his long walk -through that sweltering heat, and then on to Cheapside and Tucker to -offer his sword to the revolutionaries. Thus he would assure himself -of the wherewithal to liquidate his score at the Paul’s Head and take -his leave of the amorous Mrs. Quinn, with whom he could not in any case -have afforded now to continue to lodge. - -As he entered the common room, she turned from a group of citizens with -whom she was standing to talk to follow him with her eyes, her lips -compressed, as he passed on into his own little parlour, at the back. A -moment later she went after him. - -He was flinging off his hat, and loosening his doublet to cool himself, -and he gave her good-morning airily as if yesterday there had not been -an almost tragic scene between them. She found his light-hearted and -really tactful manner highly offensive, and she bridled under it. - -“What may be your pleasure, Colonel?” she demanded forbiddingly. - -“A draught of ale if I deserve your charity,” quoth he. “I am parched -as an African desert. Phew! The heat!” And he flung himself down on the -window-seat to get what air he could. - -She went off in silence, and returned with a tankard, which she placed -upon the table before him. Thirstily he set it to his lips, and as its -cool refreshment began to soothe his throat, he thanked Heaven that in -a world of much evil there was still so good a thing as ale. - -Silently she watched him, frowning. As he paused at last in the -enjoyment of his draught, she spoke. - -“Ye’ll have made your plans to leave my house to-day as we settled it -last night?” said she between question and assertion. - -He nodded, pursing his lips a little. “I’ll remove myself to the Bird -in Hand across the Yard this afternoon,” said he. - -“The Bird in Hand!” A slight upward inflection of her voice marked her -disdain of that hostelry, which, indeed, was but a poor sort of tavern. -“Faith, it will go well with your brave coat. Ah, but that’s no affair -of mine. So that ye go, I am content.” - -There was something portentous in her utterance. She came forward to -the table, and leaned heavily forward upon it. Her expression and -attitude were calculated to leave him in no doubt that this woman, who -had been so tender to him hitherto, was now his declared enemy. “My -house,” she said, “is a reputable house, and I mean to keep it so. I -want no traitors here, no gallows’ birds and the like.” - -He had been on the point of drinking again. But her words arrested him, -the tankard midway to his lips. - -“Traitor? Gallows’ bird!” he ejaculated slowly. “I don’t think I take -your meaning, mistress. D’ye apply these terms to me? To me?” - -“To you, sir.” Her lips came firmly together. - -He stared, frowning, a long moment. Then he shrugged and laughed. - -“Ye’re mad,” he said with conviction, and finished his ale at a draught. - -“No, I’m not mad, nor a fool neither, master rebel. A man’s to be -known by the company he keeps. Birds of a feather flock together, as -the saying goes. And how should you be other than a traitor that was -friends with traitors, that was close with traitors, here in this house -of mine, as I have seen and can swear to at need, and would if I wanted -to do you a mischief. I’ll spare you that. But you leave my house -to-day, or maybe I’ll change my mind about it.” - -He crashed the tankard down upon the board, and came to his feet. - -“’Sdeath, woman! Will you tell me what you mean?” he roared, his anger -fanned by uneasiness. “What traitors have I been close with?” - -“What traitors, do you say?” She sneered a little. “What of your friend -Danvers, that’s being sought at this moment by the men from Bow Street?” - -He was instantly relieved. “Danvers?” he echoed. “My friend Danvers? -Why, I have no such friend. I never even heard his name before.” - -“Indeed!” She was terribly derisive now. “And maybe you’ve never heard -the names of his lieutenants neither--of Tucker and of Rathbone, that -was in here with you no later than yesterday as I can swear. And what -was they doing with you? What had you to do with them? That’s what you -can perhaps explain to the satisfaction of the Justices. They’ll want -to know how you came to be so close with they two traitors that was -arrested this morning, along of a dozen others, for conspiring to bring -back the Commonwealth. Oh, a scoundrelly plot--to murder the King, -seize the Tower, and burn the City, no less.” - -It was like a blow between the eyes. “Arrested!” he gasped, his jaw -fallen, his eyes startled. “Tucker and Rathbone arrested, do you say? -Woman, you rave!” But in his heart already he knew that she did not. -For unless her tale were true how could she have come by her knowledge -of their conspiring. - -“Do I?” She laughed again, evilly mocking. “Step out into Paul’s Yard, -and ask the first man you meet of the arrest made in Cheapside just -afore noon, and of the hunt that is going on this minute for Danvers, -their leader, and for others who was mixed up in this wicked plot. And -I don’t want them to come a-hunting here. I don’t want my house named -for a meeting-place of traitors, as you’ve made it, taking advantage -of me that haven’t a man to protect me, and all the while deceiving -me with your smooth pleasantness. If it wasn’t for that, I’d inform -the Justices myself at once. You may be thankful that I want to keep -the good name of my house, if I can. And that’s the only reason for my -silence. But you’ll go to-day or maybe I’ll think better of it yet.” - -She picked up the empty tankard, and reached the door before he could -find words in his numbed brain to answer her. On the threshold she -paused. - -“I’ll bring you your score presently,” she said. “When you’ve settled -that, you may pack and quit.” She went out, slamming the door. - -The score! It was a small thing compared with that terrible menace of -gaol and gallows. It mattered little that--save in intent--he was still -completely innocent of any complicity in the rash republican plot which -had been discovered. Let him be denounced for association with Tucker -and Rathbone, and there would be no mercy for the son of Randal Holles -the Regicide. His parentage and antecedents would supply the crowning -evidence against him. That was plain to him. And yet the score, whilst -a comparatively negligible evil, was the more immediate, and therefore -gave him at the moment the greater preoccupation. - -He knew that it would be heavy, and he knew that the balance of his -resources was utterly inadequate to meet it. Yet unless it were met -he could be assured that Mrs. Quinn would show him no mercy; and this -fresh trick of Fate’s, in bringing him into association with Tucker on -the very eve of that conspirator’s arrest, placed him in the power of -Mrs. Quinn to an extent that did not bear considering. - -It was, of course, he reflected bitterly, the sort of thing that must -be for ever happening to him. And then he addressed his exasperated -mind to the discovery of means to pay his debt. Like many another -in his case, it but remained for him to realize such effects as he -possessed. Cursing his confident extravagance of the morning, he set -about it. - -And so you behold him presently, arrayed once more in the shabby -garments that he had thought to have discarded for ever, emerging from -the Paul’s Head carrying a bundle that contained his finery, and making -his way back to those shops in Paternoster Row where it had been so -lately and so jubilantly acquired. - -Here he discovered that there is a world of difference between the -treatment offered to a seller and to a buyer. He further discovered -that the main value of a suit of clothes would appear to be the mere -bloom upon it. Once this has been a little rubbed, the garments -become, apparently, next-door to worthless. The fact is that he was a -soldier who understood soldiering, and they were traders who understood -trade. And the whole art of successful trading, in whatsoever degree, -lies in a quick perception of the necessities of others and a bowelless -readiness to take advantage of them. - -Ten pounds was all that he could raise on gear for which a few hours -ago he had paid close upon thirty. Perforce, however ill-humoured, he -must sell. He was abusive over the negotiations; at one moment he was -almost threatening. But the merchant with whom he made his traffic was -not at all disturbed. Insults were nothing to him, so that he made his -profit. - -Back to the Paul’s Head went Colonel Holles to find his hostess -awaiting him with the score. And the sight of the latter turned him -almost sick. It was the culminating blow of a day of evil fortune. He -studied the items carefully, endeavouring to keep the dismay from his -countenance, for Mrs. Quinn was observing him with those hard blue -eyes, her lips compressed into a tight, ominous line. - -He marvelled at the prodigious amount of Canary and ale that he had -consumed during those weeks. Irrelevantly he fell to considering that -this very costly thirst of his was the result of a long sojourn in the -Netherlands, where the habit of copious drinking is a commonplace. -Then he came back to the main consideration, which was that the total -exceeded twenty pounds. It was a prodigious sum. He had expected -a heavy score; but hardly so heavy a score as this. He conceived -that perhaps Mrs. Quinn had included in it the wound to her tender -susceptibilities, and he almost wondered whether marriage with her, -after all, were not the only remaining refuge, assuming that she would -still consider marriage. Short of that, he did not see how he was to -pay. - -He raised eyes that, despite him, were haggard and betraying from -those terrifying figures, and met that baleful glance of the lady who, -because she could not be his wife, was now his relentless enemy. Her -glance scared him more than her total. He lowered his eyes again to the -lesser evil and cleared his throat. - -“This is a very heavy bill,” he said. - -“It is,” she agreed. “You have drunk heavily and otherwise received -good entertainment. I hope you’ll fare as well at the Bird in Hand.” - -“Mrs. Quinn, I will be frank. My affairs have gone awry through no -fault of my own. His Grace of Albemarle, upon whom I had every reason -to depend, has failed me. At the moment I am a man ... hard-pressed. I -am almost without resources.” - -“That nowise troubled you whiles you ate and drank of the best my house -could offer. Yours is a tale that has been told afore by many a pitiful -rogue....” - -“Mrs. Quinn!” he thundered. - -But she went on, undaunted, joying to deal a wound to the pride of this -man who had lacerated her own pride so terribly. - -“ ... and there’s a way to deal wi’ rogues. You think that, perhaps -because I am a woman, I am soft and tender; and so perhaps I am with -them as deserves it. But I think I know your sort, Colonel Holles--if -so be that you be a colonel. You’re not new to a house like mine; but -I’ve never yet been bested by any out-at-elbow ruffler, and I’ll see to -it as how you don’t best me now. I’ll say no more, though I could. I -could say a deal. But I’ll say only this: if you gives me trouble I’ll -ha’ the constable to you, and maybe there’ll be more than a matter of -this score to settle then. You know what I mean, my man. You know what -I could say an’ I would. So my advice to you is that you pay your bill -without whimperings that won’t move me no more than they’ll move that -wooden table.” - -Scorched with shame, he stood before her, curbing himself with -difficulty, for he could be very violent when provoked, though thanks -to an indolent disposition he did not permit himself to be provoked -very easily. He suppressed his fury now, realizing that to loose it -would be to have it recoil upon him and precipitate his ruin. - -“Mrs. Quinn,” he answered as steadily as he could, “I have sold my gear -that I might pay my debt to you. Yet even so this debt exceeds the -amount of my resources.” - -“Sold your gear, have you?” She uttered a laugh that was like a -cough. “Sold the fine clothes you’d bought to impose upon them at -Whitehall, you mean. But you’ve not sold everything. There’s that jewel -a-flaunting in your ear that alone would pay my score twice over.” - -He started, and put a hand to the ear-ring--that ruby given to him as -a keepsake by the lovely, unknown royalist boy whose life he had saved -on the night after Worcester fight some fifteen years ago. The old -superstitions that his fancy had woven about it had placed it outside -his realizable assets. Even now, in this desperate pass, when reminded -of its value, the notion of selling it was repugnant to him. And yet -perhaps it was against this very dreadful need, perhaps it was that he -might save his neck--for she made it clear to him that nothing less was -now at stake--that in all these years he had hugged that jewel against -every blow of fortune. - -His head drooped. “I had forgot,” he said. - -“Forgot?” she echoed in tones that plainly called him a liar and a -cheat. “Ah, well, ye’re reminded of it now.” - -“I thank you for the reminder. It ... it shall be sold at once. Your -score shall be paid to-day. I ... I am sorry that, that.... Oh, no -matter.” - -He flung out upon the business of finding a Jew who practised the -transmutation of jewels into gold. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -BUCKINGHAM’S HEROICS - - -Miss Sylvia Farquharson occupied very pleasant lodgings in Salisbury -Court, procured for her upon her accession to fame and some measure of -fortune by Betterton, who himself lived in a house opposite. And it was -in the doorway of Betterton’s house that she first beheld the lean and -wolfish face of Bates. - -This happened on that same morning of Colonel Holles’s disappointment -at the hands of Albemarle and subsequent tribulations at the hands of -Mrs. Quinn. - -Miss Farquharson was in need of certain dress materials which, she had -been informed, were to be procured at a certain mercer’s in Cheapside. -On this errand she came forth in the early afternoon of that day, and -entered the sedan-chair that awaited her at her door. As the chairmen -took up their burden it was that, looking from the unglazed window on -her left across towards the house of her friend Betterton, she beheld -that sly, evil face protruded from the shadows of the doorway as if -to spy upon her. The sight of it instinctively chilled her a moment, -and, again instinctively, she drew back quickly into the depths of the -chair. A moment later she was laughing at her own foolish fancies, -and upon that dismissed from her mind the memory of that evil-looking -watcher. - -It took her a full half-hour to reach her mercer’s at the sign of the -Silver Angel in Cheapside, for the chairmen moved slowly. It would have -been uncharitable to have urged them to go faster in the sweltering -heat, and uncharitableness was not in Miss Farquharson’s nature. Also -she was not pressed. And so she suffered herself to be borne in -leisurely fashion along Paul’s Yard, whilst the preacher of doom on -the steps was still haranguing that crowd which, as we know, ended by -rising in mockery against him. - -When at last her chair was set down at the door of the Silver Angel, -she stepped out and passed in upon a business over which no woman -hurries. - -It may be well that Master Bates--who had come slinking after that -chair with three tough bullies following some distance behind him, and -another three following at a still greater distance--was something of a -judge of feminine nature, and so came to the conclusion that it would -perhaps be best part of an hour before Miss Farquharson emerged again. -He had dark, wicked little eyes that observed a deal, and very wicked -wits that were keenly alert. He had noted the little crowd about the -steps of Paul’s, he had heard the burden of the preacher’s message, -and those wicked inventive wits of his had perceived here a stage very -opportunely set for the nasty little comedy which he was to contrive -on His Grace of Buckingham’s behalf. It remained to bring the chief -actor--the Duke, himself--at once within reasonable distance of the -scene. Provided this could be contrived, all should now flow merrily as -a peal of wedding-bells. - -Master Bates slipped like a shadow into a porch, produced a pencil and -tablets, and set himself laboriously to scrawl three or four lines. He -folded his note, as one of the bullies, summoned by an unostentatious -signal, joined him there in that doorway. - -With the note Bates slipped a crown into the man’s hand. - -“This at speed to his grace,” he snapped. “Take a coach, man, and make -haste. Haste!” - -The fellow was gone in a flash, and Bates, leaning back in the shadow, -leisurely filled a pipe and settled down to his vigil. A little -lantern-jawed fellow he was, with leathery, shaven cheeks, and long, -wispy black hair that hung like seaweed about his face and scraggy -neck. He was dressed in rusty black, in almost clerkly fashion, -which, together with his singular countenance and his round rather -high-crowned hat, gave him an air of fanatical piety. - -Miss Farquharson made no haste. An hour passed, and the half of a -second, before she came forth at last, followed by the mercer, laden -with parcels, which, together with herself, were packed into the chair. -The chairmen took up, and, whilst the mercer bowed himself double in -obsequious gratitude to the famous actress, they swung along westward -by the way they had come. - -Providence, it would almost seem, was on the Duke’s side that morning -to assist the subtle Bates in the stage-management of the affair. For -it was not more than half an hour since the removal of that citizen -who had been smitten with the pestilence at the very foot of Paul’s -steps when Miss Farquharson’s chair came past the spot, making its way -through a fear-ridden crowd fallen into voluble groups to discuss the -event. - -She became conscious of the sense of dread about her. The grave, -stricken faces of the men and women standing there in talk, with -occasional loudly uttered lamentations, drew her attention and set her -uneasily wondering and speculating upon the reason. - -Suddenly dominating all other sounds, a harsh, croaking voice arose -somewhere behind but very close to the chair: - -“There goes one of those who have drawn the judgment of the Lord upon -this unfortunate city!” - -She heard the cry repeated with little variation, again and yet again. -She saw the groups she was passing cease from their talk, and those -whose backs were towards her swing round and stand at gaze until it -seemed that every eye of all that motley crowd of citizens was directed -upon herself. - -Thus it was borne in upon her that it was herself this dreadful -pursuing voice behind her was denouncing, and, intimidated for all her -stout spirit under the dreadful stare of all those apparently hostile -eyes, she shrank back into the depths of the chair, and even dared to -draw one of its leather curtains the better to conceal herself. - -Again the voice beat upwards, shrilly, fiercely. - -“There sits a playhouse wanton in her silks and velvets, while the -God-fearing go in rags, and the wrath of Heaven smites us with a sword -of pestilence for the sin she brings among us!” - -Her chair rocked a little, as if her bearers were being hustled, for -in truth some three or four of the scurvier sort, those scourings of -the streets who are ever on the watch for fruitful opportunities of -turbulence, had joined that raving fanatic who followed her with his -denunciations, and were pressing now upon the chair. Miss Farquharson’s -fear increased. It requires no great imagination--and she possessed -imagination in abundance--to conceive what may happen to one at the -hands of a crowd whose passions have been inflamed. With difficulty -she commanded herself, repressing the heave of her bosom and the wild -impulse to scream out her fear. - -But her chairmen, stolid, massive fellows, who held her in the esteem -she commanded in all who knew her closely, plodded steadily onward -despite this jostling; and, what was more to their credit, they -continued to keep their tempers and to affect unconcern. They could not -believe that the people would turn upon a popular idol at the bidding -of this rusty black crow of a fanatic who came howling at their heels. - -But those few rogues who had joined him were being reinforced by -others who supported with inarticulate growls of menace the rascal’s -denunciations; and these grew fiercer at every moment. - -“It is Sylvia Farquharson of the Duke’s Playhouse,” he cried. “A -daughter of Belial, a shameless queen. It is for the sins of her kind -that the hand of the Lord is heavy upon us. It is for her and those -like her that we are suffering and shall suffer until this city is -cleansed of its iniquities.” - -He was alongside of the chair now, brandishing a short cudgel, and Miss -Farquharson’s scared eyes had a glimpse of his malevolent face. To her -amazement she recognized it for the face that had peered at her two -hours ago from the shadows of Betterton’s house in Salisbury Square. - -“You have seen one of yourselves smitten down with the plague under -your very eyes,” he was ranting. “And so shall others be smitten to pay -for the sin of harlotry with which this city is corrupt.” - -Now, for all the fear that was besetting the naturally stout spirit in -her frail white body, Miss Farquharson’s wits were not at all impaired. -This fanatic--to judge him by the language he used--represented himself -as moved to wrath against her by something that had lately happened -in Paul’s Yard. His words implied that his denunciation was prompted -by that latest sign of Heaven’s indignation at the sins of the City. -But since he had been on the watch in Salisbury Court to observe her -going forth, and had followed her all the way thence, it was clear that -the facts were quite otherwise, and that he acted upon a premeditated -design. - -And now the knaves who had joined him were hustling the chairmen with -greater determination. The chair was tossed alarmingly, and Miss -Farquharson flung this way and that within it. Others from amongst the -spectators--from amongst those upon whom she had almost been depending -for ultimate protection--began to press upon the heels of her more -immediate assailants and insults were being flung at her by some of the -women in the crowd. - -Hemmed about by that hostile mob, the chair came at last perforce to a -standstill just opposite the Paul’s Head, on the steps of which Colonel -Holles was at that moment standing. He had been in the act of coming -forth upon the errand of finding a purchaser for his jewel, when his -attention was drawn by the hubbub, and he stood arrested, frowning and -observant. - -The scene nauseated him. The woman they were persecuting with their -insults and menaces might be no better than that dirty fanatic was -pronouncing her. But she was a woman and helpless. And apart from this -there was in all the world no vice that Holles found more hideous than -virtue driven to excess. - -Over the heads of the crowd he saw the wildly rocking chair set down at -last. Of its occupant he had but a confused glimpse, and in any case -the distance at which he stood would hardly have permitted him to make -out her face distinctly. But so much wasn’t necessary to conceive her -condition, her peril, and the torment of fear she was suffering at the -hands of those ignoble persecutors. - -Colonel Holles thought he might find pleasant distraction, and at the -same time perform a meritorious deed, in slitting the ears of that -black fanatic who was whipping up the passions of the mob. - -But no sooner had he made up his mind to this, and before he could -stir a foot to carry out his intention, assistance came suddenly and -vigorously from another quarter. Precisely whence or how it came was -not easily determinable. The tall, graceful man in the golden periwig -with the long white ostrich plumes in his broad hat, seemed, together -with those who followed him, to materialize suddenly upon the spot, so -abrupt was his appearance. At a glance his dress proclaimed him some -great gentleman. He wore the tiny coat and kilt-like petticoat above -his breeches that marked him for a native of Whitehall. The sapphire -velvet of their fabric was stiff with gold lace, and at waist and -breast and from the cuffs which ended at the elbow bulged forth a -marvel of dazzling linen, with a wealth of lace at the throat and a -hundred ribbons fluttering at his shoulders and his knees. The flash of -jewels rendered his figure still more dazzling: a great brooch of gems -secured the clump of ostrich plumes to his broad beaver, and of gems -were the buttons on his sleeves and in his priceless necktie. - -He had drawn his sword, and with the menace of this and of his voice, -combined with his imperiously commanding mien, he clove himself a way -through the press to the chair itself. After him, in plain striped -liveries with broad fawn hats, came four stalwart lads, obviously -lackeys with whips which they appeared nowise timid of employing. Their -lashes fell vigorously upon the heads and shoulders of that black -fanatic and those rough-looking knaves who more immediately supported -his attack upon the chair. - -Like an archangel Michael scattering a legion of demons did that gay -yet imposing rescuer scatter those unclean assailants of that helpless -lady. The bright blade of his sword whirled hither and thither, beating -ever a wider ring about the chair, and his voice accompanied it: - -“You mangy tykes! You filthy vermin! Stand back there! Back, and give -the lady air! Back, or by Heaven I’ll send some of you where you -belong.” - -They proved themselves as cowardly as they had lately been aggressive, -and they skipped nimbly beyond the reach of that darting point of his. -His followers fell upon them afterwards with their whips and drove them -still farther back, relentlessly, until they were absorbed and lost in -the ranks of the crowd of onlookers which in its turn fell back before -the continued menace of those impetuous grooms. - -The gentleman in blue swung to the chairmen. - -“Take up,” he bade them. And they, seeing themselves now delivered -from their assailants, and their main anxiety being to remove -themselves and their charge from so hostile a neighbourhood whilst they -might still enjoy the protection of this demigod, made haste to obey -him. - -His Grace of Buckingham--for already the people had recognized him, and -his name had been uttered with awe in their ranks--stepped ahead, and -waved back those who stood before him. - -“Away!” he bade them, with the air of a prince speaking to his grooms. -“Give room!” He disdained even to use the menace of his sword, which he -now carried tucked under his left arm. His voice and mien sufficed, and -a lane was opened in that living press through which he advanced with -calm assurance, the chairmen hurrying with their burden in his wake. - -The lackeys closed in behind the chair and followed to form a -rear-guard; but there was scarcely the need, for all attempt to hinder -or molest the chair was at an end. Indeed, none troubled to accompany -it farther. The people broke up into groups again, or moved away about -their business, realizing that here the entertainment was at an end. -The fanatic who had led the attack and the knaves who had joined him -had vanished suddenly, mysteriously, and completely. - -Of the very few spectators whom curiosity or interest still attracted -was Holles, and this perhaps chiefly because Miss Farquharson was being -carried in the direction in which his own business was taking him. - -He came down the steps of the inn, and followed leisurely at some -little distance. - -They swung steadily along as far as Paternoster Row, where the traffic -was slight. Here the Duke halted at last, and turned, and at a sign -from him the men set down the chair. - -His grace advanced to the window, swept off his broad plumed hat, and -bowed until the golden curls of his periwig almost met across his face. - -Within the chair, still very pale, but quite composed again by now, sat -Miss Farquharson, regarding his grace with a very odd expression, an -expression best described as speculative. - -“Child,” he exclaimed, a hand upon his heart, a startled look on his -handsome face, “I vow that you have taught me the meaning of fear. For -I was never frightened in my life until to-day. What imprudence, my -dear Sylvia, to show yourself here in the City, when men’s minds are so -distempered by war and pestilence that they must be seeking scapegoats -wherever they can find them. None may call me devout, yet devout I -feel at this moment. From my soul I return thanks to Heaven that by a -miracle I chanced to be here to save you from this peril!” - -She leaned forward, and her hooded cloak of light silk, having fallen -back from head and shoulders, revealed the white lustre of her beauty. -She was smiling slightly, a smile that curled her delicate lip and -lent something hard and disdainful to eyes that naturally were soft -and gentle--long-shaped, rather wistful eyes of a deep colour that was -something between blue and green. - -“It was a most fortunate chance, your grace,” she said, almost -tonelessly. - -“Fortunate, indeed!” he fervently agreed with her, and, hat in hand, -dabbed his brow with a fine handkerchief. - -“Your grace was very opportunely at hand!” - -And now there was a world of mocking meaning in her tone. She -understood at last, she thought, upon whose behalf that fanatic had -spied upon her going forth, afterwards to follow and assail her, thus -providing occasion for this very romantic rescue. Having thus shrewdly -appraised the situation, the actress in her awoke to play her part in -it. - -And so she had mocked him with that phrase: “Your grace was very -opportunely at hand!” - -“I thank God for’t, and so may you, child,” was the quick answer, -ignoring the mockery, which had not escaped him. - -But Miss Farquharson was none so disposed, it seemed, to the devout -thanksgiving he advised. - -“Is your grace often east of Temple Bar?” was her next rallying -question. - -“Are you?” quoth he, possibly for lack of better answer. - -“So seldom that the coincidence transcends all that yourself or Mr. -Dryden could have invented for one of your plays.” - -“Life is marvellously coincident,” the Duke reflected, conceiving -obtuseness to be the proper wear for the innocence he pretended. -“Coincidence is the salt that rescues existence from insipidity.” - -“So? And it was to rescue this that you rescued me; and so that you -might have opportunity for rescuing me, no doubt yourself you contrived -the danger.” - -“I contrived the danger?” He was aghast. He did not at first -understand. “I contrived the danger! Child!” It was a cry of mingled -pain and indignation, and the indignation at least was not pretended. -The contempt of her tone had cut him like a whip. It made him see that -he was ridiculous in her eyes, and His Grace of Buckingham liked to be -ridiculous as little as another, perhaps less than most. “How can you -think it of me?” - -“Think it of you?” She was laughing. “Lord! I knew it, sir, the moment -I saw you take the stage at the proper cue--at what you would call the -dramatic moment. Enter hero, very gallant. Oh, sir, I am none so easily -cozened. I was a fool to allow myself to be deceived into fear by those -other silly mummers, the first murderer and his myrmidons. It was -poorly contrived. Yet it carried the groundlings in Paul’s Yard quite -off their feet, and they’ll talk of your brave carriage and mighty mien -for a whole day, at least. But you could scarce expect that it should -move me as well; since I am in the play, as it were.” - -It was said of him, and with truth, that he was the most impudent -fellow in England, this lovely, accomplished, foolish son of a man -whose face had made his fortune. Yet her raillery now put him out of -countenance, and it was only with difficulty that he could master the -fury it awoke in him. Yet master it he did, lest he should cut a still -sorrier figure. - -“I vow ... I vow you’re monstrously unjust,” he contrived at last to -stammer. “You ever have thought the worst of me. It all comes of that -cursed supper party and the behaviour of those drunken fools. Yet I -have sworn to you that it was through no fault of mine, that my only -satisfaction lay in your prompt departure from a scene with which I -would not for all the world have offended you. Yet, though I have sworn -it, I doubt if you believe me.” - -“Does your grace wonder?” she asked him coolly. - -He looked at her a moment with brooding, wicked eyes. Then he loosed -some little of his anger, but loosed it on a pretence. - -“I would to Heaven I had left you to those knaves that persecuted you.” - -She laughed outright. “I wonder what turn the comedy would have taken -then, had you failed to answer to your cue. Perhaps my persecutors -would have been put to the necessity of rescuing me, themselves, lest -they should incur your anger. That would have been diverting. Oh, -but enough!” She put aside her laughter. “I thank your grace for the -entertainment provided; and since it has proved unprofitable I trust -your grace will not go to the pains of providing yet another of the -same kind. Oh, sir, if you can take shame for anything, take shame for -the dullness of your invention.” - -She turned from him with almost contemptuous abruptness to command the -chairman standing at her side. - -“Take up, Nathaniel. Let us on, and quickly, or I shall be late.” - -She was obeyed, and thus departed without so much as another glance for -the gay Duke of Bucks, who, too crestfallen to attempt to detain her, -or to renew his protestations, stood hat in hand, white with anger, -gnawing his lip, conscious, above all, that she had plucked from him a -mask that left him an object of derision and showed his face to appear -the face of a fool. - -In the background his lackeys sought with pains to preserve a proper -stolidity of countenance, whilst a few passersby paused to stare at -that splendid bareheaded figure of a courtliness rarely seen on foot in -the streets of the City. Conscious of their regard, investing it with a -greater penetration than it could possibly possess, his grace conceived -them all to be the mocking witnesses of his discomfiture. - -He ground his heel in a sudden spasm of rage, clapped on his hat, and -turned to depart, to regain his waiting coach. But suddenly his right -arm was seized in a firm grip, and a voice, in which quivered wonder, -and something besides, assailed his ears. - -“Sir! Sir!” - -He swung round, and glared into the shaven, aquiline face and -wonder-laden eyes of Colonel Holles, who had come up behind the -chair whilst the Duke was in conversation with its occupant, and had -gradually crept nearer as if drawn by some irresistible attraction. - -Amazed, the Duke looked him over from head to toe. Conceiving in this -shabby stranger another witness of his humiliation, his anger, seeking -a vent, flamed out. - -“What’s this?” he rasped. “Do you presume to touch me, sirrah?” - -The Colonel, never flinching as another might have done under a tone -that was harsh and arrogant as a blow, before eyes that blazed upon him -out of that white face, made answer simply: - -“I touched you once before, I think, and you suffered it with a better -grace. For then it was to serve you that I touched you.” - -“Ha! And it will be to remind me of it that you touch me now,” came our -fine gentleman’s quick, contemptuous answer. - -Stricken by the brutality of the words, Holles crimsoned slowly under -his tan, what time his steady glance returned the Duke’s contempt with -interest. Then, without answering, he swung on his heel to depart. - -But there was in this something so odd and so deliberately offensive -to one accustomed to be treated ever with the deepest courtesy that it -was now the Duke who caught him by the arm in a grip of sudden anger, -arresting his departure. - -“Sir! A moment!” - -They were face to face again, and now the arrogance was entirely on the -side of Holles. The Duke’s countenance reflected astonishment and some -resentment. - -“I think,” he said at last, “that you are something wanting in respect.” - -“There, at least your discernment is not at fault,” the Colonel -answered him. - -Deeper grew the Duke’s wonder. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, after -another pause. - -“I learnt it five minutes since.” - -“But I thought you said that you did me a service once.” - -“That was many years ago. And I did not know then your name. Your grace -has probably forgotten.” - -Because of the disdainful tone he took, he commanded the respect and -attention of one who was a very master of disdain. Also the Duke’s -curiosity was deeply stirred. - -“Will you not assist my memory?” he invited, almost gently. - -The Colonel laughed a little grimly. Then shaking the Duke’s still -detaining grip without ceremony from his arm, he raised his hand, and -holding back the light brown curls, revealed his left ear and the long -ruby that adorned it. - -Buckingham stared an instant, then leaned nearer to obtain a closer -view, and he caught his breath in sudden surprise. - -“How came you by that jewel?” he asked, his eyes scanning the soldier’s -face as he spoke. - -And out of his abiding sense of injury the Colonel answered him: - -“It was given me after Worcester as a keepsake by an empty fribble -whose life I thought worth saving.” - -Oddly enough there was no answering resentment from his grace. Perhaps -his wonder overwhelmed and stilled at the moment every other emotion. - -“So! It was you!” His eyes continued to search that lean countenance. -“Aye!” he added after a moment, and it sounded like a sigh. “The man -had just such a nose and was of your inches. But in no other respect -do you look like the Cromwellian who befriended me that night. You had -no ringlets then. Your hair was cropped to a godly length, and.... -But you’re the man. How odd to meet you again thus! How passing odd!” -His grace seemed suddenly bemused. “They cannot err!” he muttered, -continuing to regard the Colonel from under knitted brows, and his eyes -were almost the eyes of a visionary. “I have been expecting you,” he -said, and again he used that cryptic phrase: “They cannot err.” - -It was Holles’s turn to be surprised, and out of his surprise he spoke: -“Your grace has been expecting me?” - -“These many years. It was foretold me that we should meet again--aye, -and that for a time our lives should run intertwined in their courses.” - -“Foretold?” ejaculated Holles. Instantly he bethought him of the -superstitions which had made him cling to that jewel through every -stress of fortune. “How foretold? By whom?” he asked. - -The question seemed to arouse the Duke from the brooding into which he -had fallen. - -“Sir,” he said, “we cannot stand talking here. And we have not met -thus, after all these years, to part again without more.” His manner -resumed its normal arrogance. “If you have business, sir, it must wait -upon my pleasure. Come!” - -He took the Colonel by the arm, whilst over his shoulder he addressed -his waiting lackeys in French, commanding two of them to follow. - -Holles, unresisting, curious, bewildered, a man walking in a dream, -suffered himself to be led whither the other pleased, as a man lets -himself drift upon the bosom of the stream of Destiny. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -BUCKINGHAM’S GRATITUDE - - -In a room above-stairs which his grace had commanded in an inn at the -corner of Paternoster Row, they sat alone, the Duke of Buckingham and -the man to whom he owed his life. There was no doubt of the extent of -the debt, as both well knew. For on that night, long years ago, when -his grace lay faint and wounded on that stricken field of battle, -he had fallen a prey to a pair of those human jackals who scour the -battle-ground to strip the living and the dead. The young Duke had -sought gallantly enough, considering his condition, to defend himself -from their depredations, whereupon, whilst one of them held him down, -the other had bared a knife to make an end of his rash resistance. And -then out of the surrounding gloom had sprung young Holles, brought to -that spot by merest chance. His heavy cut-and-thrust blade had opened -the skull of the villain who wielded the knife, whereupon his fellow -had incontinently fled. Thereafter, half supporting, half carrying the -lovely wounded boy whom he had rescued, the young Cromwellian officer -had assisted him to the safety and shelter of a royalist yeoman’s -cottage. All this they both remembered, and upon this they dwelt a -moment now. - -A table stood between them, and on that table a quart of Burgundy which -the Duke had called for, that he might entertain his guest. - -“In my heart,” said Holles, “I always believed that we should meet -again one day; which is why I have clung to this jewel. Had I known -your name, I should have sought you out. As it was, I harboured the -conviction that Chance would bring me across your path.” - -“Not Chance. Destiny,” said his grace, with quiet conviction. - -“Why, Destiny, if you prefer to call it so. This jewel now--it is very -odd! I have clung to it through all these years, as I have said; I have -clung to it through some odd shifts which the sale of it might have -relieved: clung to it against the day when we should meet again, that -it might serve as my credential.” He did not add that to him the oddest -thing of all was that to-day, at the very moment of this meeting, he -was on his way to sell the jewel, compelled to it at last by direst -need. - -The Duke was nodding, his face thoughtful. “Destiny, you see. It was -preordained. The meeting was foretold. Did I not say so?” - -And again Holles asked him, as he had asked before: “Foretold by whom?” - -This time the Duke answered him. - -“By whom? By the stars. They are the only true prophets, and their -messages are plain to him who can read them. I suppose you never sought -that lore?” - -Holles stared at him a moment. Then he shook his head, and smiled in a -manner to imply his contempt of charlatanry. - -“I am a soldier, sir,” he said. - -“Why, so am I--when the occasion serves. But that does not prevent me -from being a reader of the heavens, a writer of verse, a law-giver in -the north, a courtier here, and several other things besides. Man in -his time plays many parts. Who plays one only may as well play none. To -live, my friend, you must sip at many wells of life.” - -He developed that thesis, discoursing easily, wittily, and with the -indefinable charm he could command, a charm which was fastening upon -our adventurer now even as it had fastened upon him years ago in that -hour of their brief but fateful meeting. - -“When just now you chanced upon me,” he concluded, “I was playing -hero and lover, author and mummer all in one, and playing them all so -unsuccessfully that I never found myself in a more vexatious part. -On my soul, if there lay no debt between us already, you must have -rendered me your debtor now that you can rescue my mind for an hour or -so from the tormenting thought of that sweet baggage who keeps me on -the rack. You saw, perhaps, how the little wanton used me.” He laughed, -and yet through his laughter ran a note of bitterness. “But I contrived -the mummery clumsily, as she reproached me. And no doubt I deserved to -be laughed off the stage, which is what happened. But she shall pay -me, and with interest, one of these fine days, for all the trouble she -has given me. She shall.... Oh, but a plague on the creature! It is of -yourself, sir, that I would hear. What are you now, that were once a -Commonwealth man?” - -“Nobody’s man at present. I have seen a deal of service since those -days, both at home and abroad, yet it has brought me small gear, as you -can see for yourself.” - -“Faith, yes.” Buckingham regarded him more critically. “I should not -judge your condition to be prosperous.” - -“You may judge it to be desperate and never fear to exaggerate.” - -“So?” The Duke raised his eyebrows. “Is it so bad? I vow I am grieved.” -His face settled into lines of courteous regret. “But it is possible I -may be of service to you. There is a debt between us. I should welcome -the opportunity to discharge it. What is your name, sir? You have not -told me.” - -“Holles--Randal Holles, lately a colonel of horse in the Stadtholder’s -service.” - -The Duke frowned reflectively. The name had touched a chord of memory -and set it faintly vibrating in his brain. Awhile the note eluded him. -Then he had it. - -“Randal Holles?” he echoed slowly, questioningly. “That was the name of -a regicide who.... But you cannot be he. You are too young by thirty -years....” - -“He was my father,” said the Colonel. - -“Oh!” The Duke considered him blankly. “I do not wonder that you -lack employment here in England. My friend, with the best intentions -to repay you the great service that you did me, this makes it very -difficult.” - -The new-risen hope perished again in the Colonel’s face. - -“It is as I feared....” he was beginning gloomily, when the Duke leaned -forward, and set a hand upon his arm. - -“I said difficult, my friend. I did not say impossible. I admit the -impossibility of nothing that I desire, and I swear that I desire -nothing at present more ardently than your better fortune. Meanwhile, -Colonel Holles, that I may serve you, I must know more of you. You -have not told me yet how Colonel Holles, sometime of the Army of the -Commonwealth, and more lately in the service of the Stadtholder, -happens to be endangering his neck in the London of Old Rowley--this -King whose memory for injuries is as endless as a lawsuit.” - -Colonel Holles told him. Saving the matter of how he had been tempted -to join the ill-starred Danvers conspiracy under persuasion of Tucker -and Rathbone, he used the utmost candour, frankly avowing the mistakes -he had made by following impulses that were never right. He spoke of -the ill-luck that had dogged him, to snatch away each prize in the -moment that he put forth his hand to seize it, down to the command in -Bombay which Albemarle had already practically conferred upon him. - -The debonair Duke was airily sympathetic. He condoled and jested in a -breath, his jests being in themselves a promise that all this should -now be mended. But when Holles came to the matter of the Bombay -command, his grace’s laughter sounded a melancholy note. - -“And it was I who robbed you of this,” he cried. “Why, see how -mysteriously Destiny has been at work! But this multiplies my debt. It -adds something for which I must make amends. Rest assured that I shall -do so. I shall find a way to set you on the road to fortune. But we -must move cautiously, as you realize. Depend upon me to move surely, -none the less.” - -Holles flushed this time in sheer delight. Often though Fortune had -fooled him, yet she had not utterly quenched his faith in men. Thus, -miraculously, in the eleventh hour had salvation come to him, and it -had come through that precious ruby which a wise intuition had made him -treasure so tenaciously. - -The Duke produced a purse of green silk netting, through the meshes of -which glowed the mellow warmth of gold. - -“Meanwhile, my friend--as an earnest of my good intent....” - -“Not that, your grace.” For the second time that day Holles waved back -a proffered purse, his foolish pride in arms. Throughout his career he -had come by money in many questionable ways, but never by accepting it -as a gift from one whose respect he desired to preserve. “I am in no -such immediate want. I ... I can contrive awhile.” - -But His Grace of Buckingham was of a different temper from His Grace of -Albemarle. He was as prodigal and lavish as the other was parsimonious, -and he was not of those who will take a refusal. - -He smiled a little at the Colonel’s protestations, and passed to a -tactful, ingratiating insistence with all the charm of which he could -be master. - -“I honour you for your refusal, but....” He continued to hold out the -purse. “See. It is not a gift I offer you, but an advance, a trifling -loan, which you shall repay me presently when I shall have made it easy -for you to so do. Come, sir, there is that between us which is not to -be repaid in gold. Your refusal would offend me.” - -And Holles, be it confessed, was glad enough to have the path thus -smoothed for his self-respect. - -“As a loan, then, since you are so graciously insistent....” - -“Why, what else do you conceive I had in mind?” His grace dropped the -heavy purse into the hand that was at last held out to receive it, and -rose. “You shall hear from me again, Colonel, and as soon as may be. -Let me but know where you are lodged.” - -Holles considered a second. He was leaving the Paul’s Head, and it had -been his announced intention to remove himself to the Bird in Hand, a -humble hostelry where lodgings were cheap. But he loved good food and -wine as he loved good raiment, and he would never lodge in so vile a -house save under the harsh compulsion of necessity. Now, with this -sudden accession of fortune, master of this heavy purse and assured of -more to follow soon, that obnoxious necessity was removed. He bethought -him of, and decided upon, another house famous for its good cheer. - -“Your grace will find me at The Harp in Wood Street,” he announced. - -“There look to hear from me, and very soon.” - -They left the tavern together, and the Duke went off to his coach, -which had been brought thither for him, his French lackeys trotting -beside it, whilst Colonel Holles, with his head in the clouds and a -greater swagger than ever in his port to emphasize the shabby condition -of his person, rolled along towards Paul’s Yard, fingering the jewel in -his ear, which there no longer was the need to sell, although there was -no longer the need to retain it, since it had fulfilled, at last, after -long years, Destiny’s purpose with himself. - -Thus in high good-humour he strutted into the Paul’s Head, to plunge -into a deplorable scene with Mrs. Quinn. It was the jewel--this fateful -jewel--that precipitated the catastrophe. The sight of it inflamed her -anger, driving her incontinently to unwarranted conclusions. - -“You haven’t sold it!” she shrilled as he stepped into the back parlour -where she was at the moment stirring, and she pointed to the ear-ring, -which glowed like an ember under a veil of his brown hair. “You’ve -changed your mind. You think to come whimpering here again, that you -may save the trinket at my cost.” And then the devil whispered an -unfortunate thought, and so begat in her a sudden furious jealousy. -Before he could answer her, before he could recover from the gaping -amazement in which he stood to receive the onslaught of her wrath, she -was sweeping on: “I understand!” She leered an instant evilly. “It’s -a love-token, eh? The gift of some fat Flemish burgomaster’s dame, -belike, whom ye no doubt cozened as ye would have cozened me. That’s -why ye can’t part with it--not even to pay me the money you owe for -bed and board, for the food ye’ve guzzled and the wine ye swilled, ye -good-for-nothing out-at-elbow jackanapes. But ye’ve had your warning, -and since ye don’t heed it ye’ll take the....” - -“Hold your peace, woman,” he interrupted, thundering, and silenced -her by his sudden show of passion. He advanced upon her, so that she -recoiled in some alarm, yet bridling even then. Then as suddenly he -checked, curbed himself, and laughed. Forth from his pocket he lugged -the heavy ducal purse, slid back the gold rings that bound it and -brought the broad yellow pieces into view at its gaping mouth. - -“What is the total of this score of yours?” he asked contemptuously, -in the remnants of his anger. “Name it, take your money, and give me -peace.” - -But she was no longer thinking of her score. She was stricken with -amazement at the sight of the purse he held, and the gold with which -it bulged. Round-eyed she stared at it, and then at him. And then, -because she could not conjecture the source of this sudden wealth, -she must assume the worst, with the readiness to which such minds as -hers are prone. The suspicion narrowed her blue eyes; it settled into -conviction, and fetched an unpleasant curl to the lips of her broad -mouth. - -“And how come you by this gold?” she asked him, sinisterly quiet. - -“Is that your affair, ma’am?” - -“I thought you was above purse-cutting,” she said, mightily disdainful. -“But it seems I was as deceived in you there as in other ways.” - -“Why, you impudent bawd!” he roared in his rage, and turned her livid -by the epithet. - -“You vagrant muck-rake, is that a word for an honest woman?” - -“Honest, you thieving drab! Do you boast yourself honest? Your cheating -score gives the lie to that. Give me the total of it, that I may pay -the swindling sum, and shake the dust of your tavern from my heels.” - -That, as you realize, was but the beginning of a scene of which I -have no mind to give you all the details. Some of them are utterly -unprintable. Her voice shrilled up like an oyster-woman’s, drawing the -attention of the few who occupied the common room, and fetching Tim the -drawer in alarm to the door of the little parlour. - -And for all his anger, Colonel Holles began to be vaguely alarmed, for -his conscience, as you know, was not altogether easy, and appearances -might easily be construed against him. - -“You thieving, brazen traitor,” she was bawling. “Do you think to come -roaring it in here at me, you that have turned my reputable house into -a den of treason! I’ll learn you manners, you impudent gallow’s-bird.” -And she then caught sight of Tim’s scared face looking round the -opening door. “Tim, fetch the constable,” she bawled. “The gentleman -shall shift his lodgings to Newgate, which is better suited to his -kind. Fetch the constable, I tell you. Run, lad.” - -Tim departed. So did the Colonel, realizing suddenly that there would -be no profit in remaining. He emptied the half of the contents of the -ducal purse into his palm, and, as Jupiter wooed Danaë, but without any -of Jupiter’s amorous intention, he scattered it upon and about her in a -golden shower. - -“There’s to stop your noisy, scolding mouth!” he cried. “Pay yourself -with that, you hag. And the devil take you!” - -He flung out in a towering rage, almost on the very heels of Tim; and -of the half-dozen men in the common room not one dared to dispute his -passage. He gained the street, and was gone, leaving behind him some -odds and ends of gear as a memento of his eventful passage, and a -hostess reduced to tears of angry exhaustion. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -DESPAIR - - -For three weeks Colonel Holles waited in vain at The Harp in Wood -Street for the promised message from His Grace of Buckingham, and his -anxieties began to grow at last in a measure as he saw his resources -dwindling. For he had practised no husbanding of his comparatively -slender funds. He was well-lodged, ate and drank of the best, ruffled -it in one or the other of two handsome suits which he had purchased -from the second-hand clothiers in Birchin Lane,--considering this -more prudent and economical than a return to the shops of Paternoster -Row,--and he had even indulged with indifferent fortune a passion for -gaming, which was one of his besetting sins. - -Hence in the end he found himself fretted by the continued silence of -the Duke who had led him into so confident a state of hope. And he -had anxieties on another score. There was, he knew, a hue-and-cry set -afoot by the vindictive fury of Mrs. Quinn, and it was solely due to -the fact that his real whereabouts were unknown to her that he had -escaped arrest. He was aware that search for him had been made at the -Bird in Hand, whither he had announced to her his intention of removing -himself. That the search had been abandoned he dared not assume. At -any moment it might result in his discovery and seizure. If it had not -hitherto been more vigorously prosecuted, it was, he supposed, because -there were other momentous matters to engage the public attention. For -these were excited, uneasy days in London. - -On the third of the month the people had been startled in the City by -the distant boom of guns, which had endured throughout the day to -intimate that the Dutch and English fleets were engaged and rather -alarmingly close at hand. The engagement, as you know, was somewhere -off the coast in the neighbourhood of Harwich, and it ended in heavy -loss to the Dutch, who drew off back to the Texel. There were, of -course, the usual exaggerations on both sides, and both English and -Dutch claimed a complete victory and lighted bonfires. Our affair, -however, is not with what was happening in Holland. In London from the -8th June, when first the news came of the complete rout of the Dutch -and the destruction of half their ships, until the 20th, which was -appointed as a thanksgiving day for that great victory, there were high -junketings over the business, junketings which reached their climax -at Whitehall on the 16th to welcome back the victorious Duke of York, -returning from sea--as Mr. Pepys tells us--all fat and lusty and ruddy -from being in the sun. - -And well it was--or perhaps not--that there should have been such -excitements to keep the mind of the people diverted from the thing -happening in their midst, to blind them to the spread of the plague, -which, if slow, was nevertheless relentlessly steady, a foe likely to -prove less easily engaged and beaten than the Dutch. - -After the wild public rejoicings of the 20th, people seemed suddenly to -awaken to their peril. It may be that the sense of danger and dismay -had its source in Whitehall, which was emptying itself rapidly now. -The Court removed itself to the more salubrious air of Salisbury, -and throughout the day on the 21st and again on the 22d there was a -constant westward stream of coaches and wagons by Charing Cross, laden -with people departing from the infected town to seek safety in the -country. - -That flight struck dismay into the City, whose inhabitants felt -themselves in the position of mariners abandoned aboard a ship that -is doomed. Something approaching panic ensued as a consequence of the -orders promulgated by the Lord Mayor and the measures taken to combat -the dread disease. Sir John Lawrence had been constrained to issue -stringent regulations, to appoint examiners and searchers, and to take -measures for shutting up and isolating infected houses--measures so -rigorous that they finally dispelled any remains of the fond illusion -that there was immunity within the walls of the City itself. - -A wholesale flight followed. Never were horses in such request in -London, and never did their hire command such prices, and daily now at -Ludgate, Aldgate, over London Bridge, and by every other exit from the -City was there that same congestion of departing horsemen, pedestrians, -coaches, and carts that had earlier been seen at Charing Cross. A -sort of paralysis settled upon London life and the transaction of its -business by the rapidly thinning population. In the suburbs it was -reported that men were dying like flies at the approach of winter. - -Preachers of doom multiplied, and they were no longer mocked or pelted -with offal, but listened to in awe. And so reduced in ribaldry were -the prentices of London that they even suffered a madman to run naked -through the streets about Paul’s with a cresset of live coals upon his -head, screaming that the Lord would purge with fire the City of its -sins. - -But Colonel Holles was much too obsessed by his own affairs to be -deeply concerned with the general panic. When at last he heard of the -exodus from Whitehall, he bestirred himself to action, from fear lest -His Grace of Buckingham--in whom his last hope now rested--should -depart with the others. Therefore he ventured to recall himself in a -letter to the Duke. For two days he waited in vain for a reply, and -then, as despondency was settling upon him, came an added blow to -quicken this into utter and absolute despair. - -He returned after dusk one evening from an expedition in the course -of which he had sold at last that jewel which had now served whatever -purpose he had fondly imagined that Fate intended by it, so that its -conversion into money was the last use to which it could be put. He had -made an atrociously bad bargain, for these were not times--the buyer -assured him--in which folk were thinking of adornments. As he reëntered -the inn, Banks, the landlord, approached him, and drew him on one side -out of sight and earshot of the few who lingered in the common room. - -“There’s been two men here seeking you, sir.” - -Holles started in eagerness, his mind leaping instantly to the Duke -of Buckingham. Observing this, the landlord, grave-faced, shook his -head. He was a corpulent, swarthy man of a kindly disposition, and it -may be that this wistful guest of his had commanded instinctively his -sympathy. He leaned closer, lowering his voice, although there was -hardly the need. - -“They was messengers from Bow Street,” he said. “They didn’t say so. -But I know them. They asked a mort o’ questions. How long you had been -in my house, and whence you came and what you did. And they ordered -me at parting to say nothing about this to you. But....” The landlord -shrugged his great shoulders, and curled his lip in contempt of that -injunction. His dark eyes were on the Colonel, and he observed the -latter’s sudden gravity. Holles was not exercised by any speculations -on the score of the business that had brought those minions of justice. -His association with Tucker and Rathbone had been disclosed, possibly -at the trial of the former, who had just been convicted and sentenced -to be hanged and quartered. And he had no single doubt that, if he once -came within the talons of the law, his own conviction would follow, -despite his innocence. - -“I thought, sir,” the landlord was saying, “that I’d warn you. So -that if so be you’ve done aught to place yourself outside the law, ye -shouldn’t stay for them to take you. I don’t want to see you come to no -harm.” - -Holles collected himself. “Mister Banks,” he said, “ye’re a good -friend, and I thank you. I have done nothing. Of that I can assure you. -But appearances may be made to damn me. The unfortunate Mr. Tucker was -an old friend of mine....” - -The landlord’s sigh interrupted him. “Aye, sir, I thought it might -be that, from something they let fall. That’s why I take the risk of -telling you. In God’s name, sir, be off whiles ye may.” - -It took the Colonel a little by surprise. Here for once Fortune was his -friend in that the landlord of The Harp was a secret sympathizer with -the republicans. - -He took the man’s advice, paid his score--which absorbed most of the -proceeds of the jewel--and, without so much as waiting to collect what -gear he possessed, he set out at once from quarters grown suddenly so -very dangerous. - -He was not a moment too soon. Even as he stepped into the gloom of the -street, two shadowy forms loomed abruptly before him to bar his way, a -lantern was suddenly uncovered, and thrust into his face. - -“Stand, sir, in the King’s name!” a gruff voice commanded him. - -He could not see whether they had weapons in their hands or not, nor -did he wait to ascertain. At a blow he sent the lantern flying, at -another he felled the man who had advanced it. The arms of the second -messenger wound themselves about his body, and the fellow steadied -himself to throw him. But before that could happen Holles had knocked -the breath out of the man’s body by a jolt of his elbow, and, as -the catchpoll’s arms slackened in their grip, he was flung off and -violently hurled against the wall. As you conceive, Holles did not stay -to verify what damage he had done. He was off like a hare, down the -dark street, whilst behind him came shouts and the patter of running -feet. The pursuit was not long maintained, and presently the Colonel -was able with safety to resume a more leisurely and dignified progress. -But fear went with him, driving him ever farther into the depths of the -City, and it kept him company throughout the night. He lay in a tavern -in the neighbourhood of Aldgate, and reflected grimly upon the choice -position in which he found himself. Before dawn he had reached the -conclusion that there was but one thing for a sane man in his position -to do, and that was to quit this England where he found nothing but -bitterness and disappointment. He cursed the ill-conceived patriotism -that had brought him home, pronounced love of country a delusion, and -fools all those who yielded to it. He would depart at once, and never -trouble this evil land of his birth again. Now that the Dutch were back -in the Texel and the seas open once more, there need be no difficulty; -not even his lack of funds should prove an obstacle. He would ship -as one of the hands aboard some vessel bound for France. With this -intention he made his way to Wapping betimes next morning. - -Vessels there were, and hands were needed, but no master would ship him -until he had procured himself a certificate of health. The plague had -rendered this precaution necessary, not only for those going abroad, -but even for such as desired to go into the country, where no town or -village now would receive any man who came from London unless he came -provided with a certificate that pronounced him clean. - -It was a vexatious complication. But it must be accepted. So the -Colonel trudged wearily to the Guildhall, going by sparsely tenanted, -darksome city streets, where he saw more than one door marked with a -cross and guarded by a watchman who warned all wayfarers to keep their -distance. And the wayfarers, of whom he met by no means many, showed -themselves eager enough to keep to the middle of the street, giving -as wide a berth as possible, not only to those infected dwellings, -but also to all persons whom they might chance to meet. Not a few of -those whom Holles found abroad were officials whose appointment the -pestilence had rendered necessary--examiners, searchers, keepers, and -chirurgeons--each and all of them distinguishable at a glance by a -red wand borne well displayed as the law prescribed, and all of them -shunned as if they were themselves plague-stricken. - -It made the Colonel realize the extent of the spread of this infection -which was now counting its victims by thousands. The extent of the -panic he realized when he came at last to the Guildhall, and found it -besieged by coaches, sedan-chairs, and a vast mob on foot. All here -were come upon the same errand as himself; to procure the Lord Mayor’s -certificate of health that should enable them to escape from this -stricken city. - -Most of the day he waited in that throng, enduring the stifling heat -and the pangs of hunger and of thirst. For the only hawkers moving in -the crowd were vendors of preventive medicines and amulets against the -plague. Instead of the cry of “Sweet oranges,” which in normal times -would have been heard in such a gathering, and which he would now have -welcomed, here the only cries were: “Infallible Preservative Against -Infection,” “The Royal Antidote,” “Sovereign Cordial Against the -Corruption of the Air,” and the like. - -He could ill afford to purchase the favour of the ushers and bribe them -into according him some precedence. He must wait and take his turn -with the humblest there, and, as he had arrived late, his turn did not -seem likely to come that day at all. - -Towards evening--unlike the more prudent, who determined to remain in -their ranks all night, that they might be among the first served next -day--he departed empty-handed and disgruntled. Yet within the hour he -was to realize that perhaps he had been better served by Fate than he -suspected. - -In a sparsely tenanted eating-house in Cheapside, where he sought to -stay the pangs of thirst and hunger--for he had neither eaten nor drunk -since early morning--he overheard some scraps of conversation between -two citizens at a neighbouring table. They were discussing an arrest -that had been made that day, and in the course of this they let fall -the words which gave pause to Colonel Holles. - -“But how was he taken? How discovered?” one of them asked. - -“Why, at the Guildhall, when he sought a certificate of health that -should enable him to leave Town. I tell you it’s none so easy to leave -London nowadays, as evil-doers are finding when they attempt it. Sooner -or later they’ll get Danvers this way. They’re on the watch for him, -aye, and for others too.” - -Colonel Holles pushed away his platter, his appetite suddenly dead. -He was in a trap, it seemed, and it had needed those words overheard -by chance to make him realize it. To attempt flight was but to court -discovery. True, it might be possible to obtain a certificate of health -in a false name. But, on the other hand, it might not. There must be -inquisition into a person’s immediate antecedents if only to verify -that he was clean of infection, and this inquisition must speedily -bring to light any prevarication or assumption of false identity. - -And so he was on the horns of a dilemma. If he remained in London, -sooner or later he would be run to earth by those who sought him, -who would be seeking him more relentlessly than ever now, after his -manhandling of those messengers of the law last night. If he attempted -to go, he delivered himself up to justice by the very act. - -He determined, after much gloomy cogitation, to seek the protection of -Albemarle in this desperate pass, and with that intent went forth. He -persisted in it until he reached Charing Cross, when a doubt assailed -him. He remembered Albemarle’s selfish caution. What if Albemarle -should refuse to take the risk of believing his innocence, considering -the nature of the alleged offence? He hardly thought that Albemarle -would push caution quite so far, especially with the son of his old -friend--though it was a friend the Duke must disown in these days. But -because he perceived the risk he hesitated, and finally determined that -first he would make one last attempt to move the Duke of Buckingham. - -Acting upon that impulse, he turned into the courtyard of Wallingford -House. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS - - -His Grace of Buckingham had not accompanied the Court in its flight to -Salisbury. His duties, indeed, recalled him to his lord-lieutenancy in -York. But he was as deaf to the voice of duty as to that of caution. -He was held fast in London, in the thraldom of his passion for Miss -Farquharson, and enraged because that passion prospered not at all. It -had prospered less than ever since his attempt to play the hero and -rescuer of beauty in distress had ended in making him ridiculous in the -lady’s eyes. - -It was his obsession on the score of Miss Farquharson that was -responsible for his neglect of the letter that Holles had written to -him. That appeal had reached him at a moment when he was plunged into -dismay by the news that Sir John Lawrence’s orders had gone forth -that all theatres and other places of assembly should close upon the -following Saturday, as a very necessary measure in the Lord Mayor’s -campaign against the plague. The Court was no longer present to oppose -the order, and it is doubtful if it would have dared still to oppose -it in any case. Now the closing of the theatres meant the withdrawal -of the players from Town, and with that the end of his grace’s -opportunities. Either he must acknowledge defeat, or else act promptly. - -One course, one simple and direct course, there was, which he would -long ago have taken but for the pusillanimous attention he had paid -to Mr. Etheredge’s warning. In a manner the closing of the theatre -favoured this course, and removed some of the dangers attending it, -dangers which in no case would long have weighed with His Grace of -Buckingham, accustomed as he was to flout all laws but those of his own -desires. - -He took his resolve at last and sent for the subtle Bates, who was the -Chaffinch of Wallingford House. He gave him certain commands--whose -full purport Master Bates did not completely apprehend--in the matter -of a house. That was on the Monday of the week whose Saturday was to -see the closing of the theatres. It was the very day on which Holles -made his precipitate departure from The Harp. - -On Tuesday morning the excellent and resourceful Bates was able to -report to his master that he had found precisely such a domicile as -his grace required--though why his grace should require it Bates could -not even begin to surmise. It was a fairly spacious and excellently -equipped dwelling in Knight Ryder Street, lately vacated by a -tenant who had removed himself into the country out of dread of the -pestilence. The owner was a certain merchant in Fenchurch Street, who -would be glad enough to let the place on easy terms, considering how -impossible it was just at present to find tenants for houses in the -City or its liberties. - -Bates had pursued his inquiries with characteristic discretion, as he -now assured his grace, without allowing it to transpire on whose behalf -he was acting. - -His grace laughed outright at the assurance and all that it implied -that Bates had taken for granted. - -“Ye’re growing a very competent scoundrel in my service.” - -Bates bowed, not without a tinge of mockery. “I am glad to merit your -grace’s approval,” said he dryly. There was a strain of humorous -insolence in the fellow, of which the Duke was disposed to be tolerant; -perhaps because nothing else was possible with one so intimately -acquainted with his conscience. - -“Aye. Ye’re a trustworthy rogue. The house will do admirably, though I -should have preferred a less populous district.” - -“If things continue as at present, your grace should have no cause for -complaint on that score. Soon the City will be the most depopulated -spot in England. Already more than half the houses in Knight Ryder -Street are empty. I trust your grace is not thinking of residing there.” - -“Not ... not exactly.” His grace was frowning, thoughtfully. “There’s -no infection in the street, I hope?” - -“Not yet. But there’s an abundant fear of it, as everywhere else in -the City. This merchant in Fenchurch Street didn’t trouble to conceal -the opinion that I was crazy to be seeking a house in London at such a -time.” - -“Pooh, pooh!” His grace dismissed the matter of fear contemptuously. -“These cits frighten themselves into the plague. It’s opportune enough. -It will serve to keep men’s minds off the concerns of their neighbours. -I want no spying on me in Knight Ryder Street. To-morrow, Bates, you’ll -seek this merchant and engage the house--and ye’re to acquire the -tenancy of it in your own name. Ye understand? My name is not to be -mentioned. To avoid questions you’ll pay him six months’ rent at once.” - -Bates bowed. “Perfectly, your grace.” - -His grace leaned back in his great chair, and considered his servant -through half-closed, slyly smiling eyes. - -“You’ll have guessed, of course, the purpose for which I am acquiring -this house.” - -“I should never presume to guess any purpose of your grace’s.” - -“By which you mean that my purpose baffles you. That is an admission of -dullness. You recall the little comedy we played a month ago for the -benefit of Miss Farquharson?” - -“I have occasion to. My bones are still sore from the cudgelling I -got. It was a very realistic piece of acting, on the part of your -grace’s cursed French grooms.” - -“The lady didn’t think so. At least, it did not convince her. We must -do better this time.” - -“Yes, your grace.” There was the least dubiety in the rascal’s tone. - -“We’ll introduce a more serious note into the comedy. We’ll carry the -lady off. That is the purpose for which I require this house.” - -“Carry her off?” said Bates, his face grown suddenly very serious. - -“That is what I require of you, my good Bates.” - -“Of me?” Bates gasped. His face lengthened, and his wolfish mouth fell -open. “Of me, your grace?” He made it plain that the prospect scared -him. - -“To be sure. What’s to gape at?” - -“But, your grace. This ... this is ... very serious.” - -“Bah!” said his grace. - -“It ... it’s a hanging matter.” - -“Oh, damn your silliness. A hanging matter! When I’m behind you?” - -“That’s what makes it so. They’ll never venture to hang your grace. But -they’ll need a scapegoat, if there’s trouble, and they’ll hang your -instruments to pacify the rabble’s clamour for justice.” - -“Are ye quite mad?” - -“I’m not only sane, your grace; I’m shrewd. And if I may presume to -advise your grace....” - -“That would, indeed, be a presumption, you impudent rogue!” The Duke’s -voice rose sharply, a heavy frown rumpled his brow. “You forget -yourself, I think.” - -“I beg your grace’s pardon.” But he went on, none the less. “Your -grace, perhaps, is not aware of the extent of the panic in the -City over this pestilence. The cry everywhere is that it is a -visitation provoked by the sins of the Court. That’s what the canting -Nonconformist preachers have put about. And if this thing that your -grace contemplates....” - -“My God!” thundered Buckingham. “But it seems you presume to advise me -in spite of all.” - -Bates fell silent; but there was obstinacy in every line of him as he -stood there facing his master now. More calmly Buckingham continued: - -“Listen, Bates. If we are ill served on the one hand by the pestilence, -we are very well served on the other. To carry Miss Farquharson off -while she is playing at the theatre would be to have a hue-and-cry set -up at once that might lead to discovery and unpleasant consequences. -But the Lord Mayor has ordered the closing of all theatres on Saturday, -and it is on Saturday after the theatre, therefore, that this thing -must be done, when Miss Farquharson will no longer be missed and her -disappearance give rise to no excitement--particularly at a time when -this very fear of the plague is giving people enough to think about.” - -“And afterwards, your grace?” - -“Afterwards?” - -“When the lady makes complaint.” - -Buckingham smiled in his knowledge of the world. “Do ladies ever make -complaints of this kind--afterwards? Besides, who will believe her -tale that she went to this house of mine against her will? She is an -actress, remember; not a princess. And I still command some measure of -authority in this country.” - -But Bates solemnly shook his head. “I doubt if your grace commands -enough to save my neck should there be trouble, and trouble there will -be. Be sure of that, your grace. There’s too many malcontents abroad, -spying the opportunity to make it.” - -“But who’s to accuse you?” cried the Duke impatiently. - -“The lady herself, if I carry her off for you. Besides, has not your -grace said that the house is to be taken in my name? If more were -wanted, that would supply it. I am your grace’s very dutiful servant, -and God knows I’m not overscrupulous on the score of my service. But -... not this, your grace. I durstn’t.” - -Amazement and scorn were blent on Buckingham’s countenance. He wanted -to explode in anger and he wanted to laugh at the same time at the -absurdity of finding an obstacle in Bates. His fingers drummed the -table what time he reflected. Then he determined to cut the game short -by playing trumps. - -“How long have you been in my service, Bates?” - -“Five years this month, your grace.” - -“And you are tired of it, eh?” - -“Your grace knows that I am not. I have served you faithfully in all -things....” - -“But you think the time has come when you may pick and choose the -things in which you will serve me still. Bates, I think you have been -in my service too long.” - -“Your grace!” - -“I may be mistaken. But I shall require proof before believing it. -Fortunately for you, it lies within your power to afford me that proof. -I advise you to do so.” - -He looked at Bates coldly, and Bates looked back at him in dread. The -little rascal fidgeted with his neckcloth, and his lean knuckly hand -for a moment caressed his throat. The gesture almost suggested that his -thoughts were on the rope which he might be putting about that scraggy -neck of his. - -“Your grace,” he cried on a note of appeal, “there is no service I -will not perform to prove my devotion. Command me to do anything, your -grace--anything. But not ... not this.” - -“I am touched, Bates, by your protestations.” His grace was coldly -supercilious. “Unfortunately, this is the only service I desire of you -at the moment.” - -Bates was reduced to despair. - -“I can’t, your grace! I can’t!” he cried. “It is a hanging matter, as -your grace well knows.” - -“For me, Bates, at law--at strict law--I believe it might be,” said the -Duke indifferently. - -“And since your grace is too high for hanging, it’s me that would have -to be your deputy.” - -“How you repeat yourself! A tiresome habit. And you but confirm me in -my opinions. Yet there might be a hundred pounds or so for you as a -douceur....” - -“It isn’t money, your grace. I wouldn’t do it for a thousand.” - -“Then there is no more to be said.” Inwardly Buckingham was very angry. -Outwardly he remained icily cold. “You have leave to go, Bates, and I -shall not further require your services. If you will apply to Mr. Grove -he will pay you what moneys may be due to you.” - -A wave of the white jewelled hand dismissed the crestfallen little -scoundrel. A moment Bates wavered, hesitating, swayed by his reluctance -to accept dismissal. But not even that reluctance could conquer his -dread of the consequences, a dread based upon conviction that they -could not fail to overtake him. Had it been anything less than a -hanging matter he might have risked it. But this was too much. So, -realizing that further pleadings or protestations would be wasted upon -the cold arrogance of the Duke, he bowed in silence, and in silence -removed himself. - -If he withdrew in discomfiture, at least he left discomfiture behind -him. The Duke’s trump card had failed to win him the game, and he knew -not where to find another agent for the enterprise which now obsessed -him. - -Mr. Etheredge, coming later that day to visit him, found his grace -still in a bedgown, pacing the handsome library, restless as a caged -beast. - -Mr. Etheredge, who well knew the attraction that held the Duke fast -in Town, and who had, himself, just completed his preparations for -departure, came to make the last of several recent attempts to recall -his friend to his senses, and persuade him to leave London for -healthier surroundings. - -Buckingham laughed at him without mirth. - -“You alarm yourself without occasion, George. This pestilence is born -of uncleanliness and confines itself to the unclean. Look into the -cases that are reported. The outbreaks are all in mean houses in mean -streets. The plague practises a nice discrimination, and does not -venture to intrude upon persons of quality.” - -“Nevertheless, I take my precautions,” said Mr. Etheredge, producing -a handkerchief from which a strong perfume of camphor and vinegar -diffused itself through the room. “And I am one of those who believe -that flight is the best physic. Besides, what is there to do here? The -Court is gone; the Town is hot and reeking as an anteroom of hell. In -Heaven’s name let us seek a breath of clean, cool, country air.” - -“Pish! Ye’re bucolic. Like Dryden ye’ve a pastoral mind. Well, well, be -off to your sheep. We shall not miss you here.” - -Mr. Etheredge sat down and studied his friend, pursing his lips. - -“And all this for a prude who has no notion of being kind! Let me -perish, Bucks, but I don’t know you!” - -The Duke fetched a sigh. “Sometimes I think I don’t know myself. Gad, -George, I believe I am going mad!” He strode away to the window. - -“Comfort yourself with the reflection that you won’t have far to go,” -said the unsympathetic Mr. Etheredge. “How a man of your years and -experience can take the risks and the trouble over a pursuit that....” - -The Duke swung round to interrupt him sharply. - -“Pursuit! That is the cursed word. A pursuit that maddens because it -never overtakes.” - -“Not a bad line, that--for you,” said Mr. Etheredge. “But in love, -remember, ‘they fly that wound, and they pursue that die.’” - -But Buckingham raved on without heeding the gibe, his voice suddenly -thick with passion. “I have the hunter’s instinct, I suppose. The prey -that eludes me is the prey that at all costs must be reduced into -possession. Can’t you understand?” - -“No, thank God! I happen to retain my sanity. Come into the country, -man, and recover yours. It’s waiting for you there amid the buttercups.” - -“Pshaw!” Buckingham turned from him again with an ill-humoured shrug. - -“Is that your answer?” - -“It is. Don’t let me detain you.” - -Etheredge got up, and went to set a hand upon his arm. - -“If you stay, and at such a time, you must have some definite purpose -in your mind. What is it?” - -“What was in my mind before you came to trouble it, George. To end the -matter where I should have begun it.” And he adapted three lines of -Suckling’s: - - - “If of herself she will not love, - Myself shall make her, - The devil take her!” - - -Etheredge shrugged in despair and disgust. - -“Ye’re not only mad, Bucks,” said he. “Ye’re coarse. I warned you once -of the dangers of this thing. I’ve no mind to repeat myself. But you’ll -give me leave to marvel that you can take satisfaction in....” - -“Marvel all you please,” the other interrupted him with a touch of -anger. “Perhaps, indeed, I am a matter for marvel. I am a man racked, -consumed, burnt up by my feelings for this woman who has scorned and -spurned and made a mock of me. If I could believe in her virtue, I -would go my ways, bending to her stubborn will. But virtue in an -actress! It is as likely as snow in hell. She indulges a cruel and -perverse zest to torture a man whom she sees perishing of love for -her.” He paused a moment, to pursue with even greater fierceness, his -face livid with the working of the emotion that possessed him--that -curious and fearful merging of love and hatred that is so often born -of baffled passion. “I could tear the jade limb from limb with these -two hands, and take joy in it. I could so. Or with the same joy I could -give my body to the rack for her sweet sake! To such an abject state -have her wiles reduced me.” - -He swung away, and went to fling himself petulantly into a chair, -taking his blond head in his fine jewelled hands. - -After that explosion Mr. Etheredge decided that there was nothing to -be done with such a man but abandon him to his fate. He said so with -engaging candour and took his leave. - -His grace made no attempt to detain him, and for some time after his -departure sat there alone in that sombre book-lined room, a fool -enshrined in wisdom and learning. Gloomily he brooded the matter, more -than ever exasperated by the defection of Bates, and the consideration -that he was left thereby without a minister to assist him in the -execution of his wishes. - -He was disturbed at last by the appearance of a footman, who brought -the announcement that a Colonel Holles was demanding insistently to see -his grace. - -Irritated, Buckingham was about to pronounce dismissal. - -“Say that....” He checked. He remembered the letter received three days -ago, and its urgent appeal. That awoke an idea, and set his grace -speculating. “Wait!” He moistened his lips and his eyes narrowed in -thought. Slowly they lighted from their gloom. Abruptly he rose. “Bring -him in,” he said. - -Holles came, erect and soldierly of figure, still tolerably dressed, -but very haggard now of countenance at the end of that weary day spent -between Wapping and the Guildhall with the sense that he was being -hunted. - -“Your grace will forgive, I trust, my importunities,” he excused -himself, faltering a little. “But the truth is that my need, which was -very urgent when I wrote, has since grown desperate.” - -Buckingham considered him thoughtfully from under his bent brows -without directly replying. He dismissed the waiting footman, and -offered his visitor a chair. Holles sat down wearily. - -His grace remained standing, his thumbs hooked into the girdle of his -bedgown. - -“I received your letter,” he said in his slow, pleasant voice. “From my -silence you may have supposed that you had passed from my mind. That is -not so. But you realize, I think, that you are not an easy man to help.” - -“Less than ever now,” said Holles grimly. - -“What’s that?” There was a sudden unmistakable quickening of the Duke’s -glance, almost as if he welcomed the news. - -Holles told him without preamble. - -“And so your grace perceives,” he ended, “that I am now not only in -danger of starving, but of hanging.” - -His grace had not moved throughout the rendering of that account. Now -at last he stirred. He turned from his visitor, and sauntered slowly -away in thought. - -“But what an imprudence,” he said at last, “for a man in your -position to have had relations, however slight, with these wretched -fifth-monarchy dogs! It is to put a halter about your neck.” - -“Yet there was no wrong in those relations. Tucker was an old -brother-in-arms. Your grace has been a soldier and knows what that -means. It is true that he tempted me with proposals. I admit it, since -that can no longer hurt him. But those proposals I incontinently -refused.” - -His grace smiled a little. “Do you imagine that the Justices will -believe you when you come to tell them that?” - -“Seeing that my name is Randal Holles, and that a vindictive government -would be glad of any pretext to stretch the neck of my father’s son, I -do not. That is why I describe my state as desperate. I am a man moving -in the shadow of the gallows.” - -“Sh! Sh!” the Duke reproved him gently. “You must not express yourself -in such terms, Colonel. Your very tone savours of disloyalty. And you -are unreasonable. If you were really loyal, there was a clear duty -which you would not have neglected. When first this proposal was made -to you, whatever your friendship for Tucker, you should have gone -straight to the Justices and laid information of this plot.” - -“Your grace advises something that in my own case you would not have -performed. But even had I acted so, how should I have compelled belief? -I knew no details of this plot. I was not in a position to prove -anything. It would have been my bare word against Tucker’s, and my name -alone would have discredited me. My action might have been regarded as -an impudent attempt to earn the favour of the powers in being. It might -even, in some tortuous legal manner, have been construed against me. -Therefore I held my peace.” - -“Your assurance is enough for me,” said his grace amiably. “And God -knows I perceive your difficulty, and how you have been brought into -your present danger. Our first care must be to deliver you from this. -You must do at last what should have been done long since. You must go -before the Justices, and frankly state the case as you have stated it -to me.” - -“But your grace yourself has just said that they will not believe me.” - -His grace paused in his pacing, and smiled a little slyly. - -“They will not believe your unsupported word. But if some person of -eminence and authority were to answer for your good faith, they would -hardly dare to doubt; the matter would be at an end, and there would be -no further question of any impeachment.” - -Holles stared, suddenly hopeful, and yet not daring to yield entirely -to his hope. - -“Your grace does not mean that you ... that you would do this for me?” - -His grace’s smile grew broader, kindlier. “But, of course, my friend. -If I am to employ you, as I hope I shall, so much would be a necessary -preliminary.” - -“Your grace!” Holles bounded to his feet. “How to thank you?” - -His grace waved him back again to his chair. “I will show you -presently, my friend. There are certain conditions I must impose. There -is a certain task I shall require of you.” - -“Your grace should know that you have but to name it.” - -“Ah!” The Duke paused, and again considered him intently. “You said in -your letter that you were ready for _any_ work, for _any_ service.” - -“I said so. Yes. I say so again.” - -“Ah!” Again that soft, relieved exclamation. Then the Duke paced away -to the book-lined wall and back again before continuing. “My friend, -your despair comes opportunely to my own. We are desperate both, though -in different ways, and it lies within the power of each to serve the -other.” - -“If I could believe that!” - -“You may. The rest depends upon yourself.” He paused a moment, -then on a half-humorous note proceeded: “I do not know how much of -squeamishness, of what men call honesty, your travels and misfortune -may have left you.” - -“None that your grace need consider,” said Holles, with some -self-derision. - -“That is ... very well. Yet, you may find the task distasteful.” - -“I doubt it. God knows I’m not fastidious nowadays. But if I do, I will -tell you so.” - -“Just so.” The Duke nodded, and then--perhaps because of the hesitation -that still beset him to make to Holles the proposal that he had in -mind--his manner suddenly hardened. It was almost that of the great -gentleman speaking to his lackey. “That is why I warn you. For should -you wish to tell me so, you will please to tell me without any -unnecessary roaring, without the airs of a Bobadil or a Pistol, or any -other of your fire-eating, down-at-heel fraternity. You have but to say -‘No,’ and spare me the vapourings of outraged virtue.” - -Holles stared at the man in silence for a moment, utterly dumbfounded -by his tone. Then he laughed a little. - -“It would surprise me to discover that I’ve any virtue left to outrage.” - -“All the better,” snapped the Duke. He drew up a chair, and sat down, -facing Holles. He leaned forward. “In your time, no doubt, you will -have played many parts, Colonel Holles?” - -“Aye--a mort of parts.” - -“Have you ever played ... Sir Pandarus of Troy?” - -The Duke keenly watched his visitor’s face for some sign of -understanding. But the Colonel’s classical education had been neglected. - -“I’ve never heard of him. What manner of part may that be?” - -His grace did not directly answer. He took another way to his ends. - -“Have you ever heard of Sylvia Farquharson?” - -Surprised anew, it was a moment before the Colonel answered him. - -“Sylvia Farquharson?” he echoed, musing. “I’ve heard the name. Oh! I -have it. That was the lady in the sedan-chair your grace rescued yonder -in Paul’s Yard on the day we met. Aye, aye. I heard her named at the -time. A baggage of a play actress from the Duke’s House, I think. But -what has she to do with us?” - -“Something I think--unless the stars are wrong. And the stars are never -wrong. They stand immutable and true in a false and fickle world. It -is written in them--as I have already told you--that we were to meet -again, you and I, and be jointly concerned in a fateful matter with one -other. That other, my friend, is this same Sylvia Farquharson.” - -He rose, casting off all reserve at last, and his pleasant voice was -thickened by the stress of his emotions. - -“You behold in me a man exerting vast power for good and ill. There are -in life few things, however great, that I desire without being able -to command them. Sylvia Farquharson is one of these few things. With -affectations of prudery this wanton keeps me on the rack. That is where -I require your help.” - -He paused. The Colonel stared at him round-eyed. A faint colour stirred -in his haggard cheeks. At last he spoke, in a voice that was cold and -level. - -“Your grace has hardly said enough.” - -“Dullard! What more is to be said? Don’t you understand that I mean to -make an end of this situation?--to conquer the prudish airs with which -this wanton jade repels me?” - -“Faith! I think I understand that well enough.” Holles laughed a -little. “What I don’t understand is my part in this--a doxy business of -this kind. Will not your grace be plain?” - -“Plain? Why, man, I want her carried off for me.” - -They sat conning each other in silence now, the Colonel’s face utterly -blank, so that the Duke looked in vain for some sign of how he might -be taking this proposal. At last his lips curled in a rather scornful -smile, and his voice drawled with a mildly humorous inflection. - -“But in such a matter your grace’s own vast experience should surely -serve you better than could I.” - -In his eagerness, the Duke took him literally, never heeding the -sarcasm. - -“My experience will be there to guide you.” - -“I see,” said Holles. - -“I’ll tell you more precisely how I need you--where you can serve me.” - -And Buckingham proceeded to inform him of the well-equipped house in -Knight Ryder Street, which he now desired Holles to take in his own -name. Having taken it, he was to make the necessary arrangements to -carry the girl thither on the evening of Saturday next, after the last -performance at the Duke’s House. - -“Taking what men you need,” the Duke concluded, “it should be easy -to waylay and capture her chair as it is being borne home. We will -consider that more closely if the service is one that you are disposed -to accept.” - -The Colonel’s face was flushed. He felt his gorge rising. At last his -anger mastered him, and he heaved himself up to confront the handsome -profligate who dared in cold blood to make him this proposal. - -“My God!” he growled. “Are you led by your vices like a blind man by -his dog?” - -The Duke stepped back before the sudden menace of that tone and mien. -At once he wrapt himself in a mantle of arrogance. - -“I warned you, sir, that I will suffer no heroics; that I will have no -man play Bobadil to me. You asked service of me. I have shown you how I -can employ you.” - -“Service?” echoed Holles, his voice almost choked with anger. “Is this -service for a gentleman?” - -“Perhaps not. But a man standing in the shadow of the gallows should -not be over-fastidious.” - -The flush perished in the Colonel’s face; the haunting fear returned -to his eyes. The Duke, seeing him thus suddenly stricken by that grim -reminder, was moved to sudden laughter. - -“It seems you have to realize, Colonel Holles, that there is no music -without frets. You resent that I should ask a trifling service of you -when in return I am offering to make your fortune. For that is what I -am offering. You come as opportunely to my need as to your own. Serve -me as I require, and I pledge you my word that I shall not neglect you.” - -“But this ... this....” faltered Holles, protesting. “It is a task for -bullies, for jackals.” - -The Duke shrugged. “Damme! Why trouble to define it?” Then he changed -his tone again. “The choice is yours. Fortune makes the offer: gold on -the one hand; hemp on the other. I do not press either upon you.” - -Holles was torn between fear and honour. In imagination he felt already -the rope about his neck; he beheld that wasted life of his finding -a fitting consummation on Tyburn at the hands of Derrick. Thus fear -impelled him to accept. But the old early notions that had inspired -his ambition and had made him strive to keep his honour clean rose -up to hold him back. His tortured thoughts evoked an image of Nancy -Sylvester, as he had last seen her set in the frame of her casement, -and he conceived the shame and horror in that face could she behold him -engaged upon so loathly an enterprise--he who had gone forth so proudly -to conquer the world for her. Many a time in the past had that image -delivered him from the evil to which he was tempted. - -“I’ll go my ways, I think,” he said heavily, and half turned as if to -depart. - -“You know whither it leads?” came the Duke’s warning voice. - -“I care not an apple-paring.” - -“As you please.” - -In silence Holles bowed, and made his way to the door with dragging -feet, hope’s last bubble pricked. - -And then the Duke’s voice arrested him again. - -“Holles, you are a fool.” - -“I have long known it. I was a fool when I saved your life, and you pay -me as a fool should be paid.” - -“You pay yourself. And of your own choice you do so in fool’s coin.” - -Seeing him standing arrested there, still hesitating, the Duke -approached him. His grace’s need, as you know, was very urgent. It -was no overstatement that Holles’s coming had been opportune. Unless -he could make of Holles the tool that he required so sorely, where -should he find another? It was because of this he decided to use yet -some persuasion to conquer a frame of mind that was obviously still -balancing. He set a friendly hand upon the Colonel’s shoulder. And -Holles, shrinking almost under that touch, could not guess that this -Duke, who sought to make a tool of him, was himself the blind tool of -Destiny hewing a way to her inscrutable ends. - -And whilst the Duke now talked persuasively, tempting him with promises -on the one hand and intimidating him with a picture of what must -otherwise happen on the other, the Colonel’s own tormented mind was -reconsidering. - -Were his hands really so clean, his life so blameless, his honour so -untarnished, that he must boggle at this vileness, and boggle at it -to the extent of allowing them to stretch his neck and disembowel him -sooner than perform it? And what was this vileness when all was said? -A baggage of the theatre, a trull of an actress, had played upon the -Duke that she might make the greater profit out of him in the end. The -Duke, wearied of her tricks and wiles, desired to cut the game short. -Thus the Duke represented the situation. And what cause had Holles to -assume that it was other than a true representation? The girl was an -actress and therefore, it followed, wanton. The puritanical contempt of -the playhouse and its denizens--heritage of his Commonwealth days--left -him no doubt upon that score. If she were a lady of quality, a woman -of virtue, the thing would be different. Then, indeed, to be a party -to such an act were a wickedness unthinkable, a thing sooner than -which he would, indeed, suffer death. But where was the vileness here, -since the object itself was vile? Against what, then, really, did this -thing offend? Against himself; against his soldier’s dignity. The act -required of him was one proper to a hired bully. It was ignoble. But -was hanging less ignoble? Was he to let them put a rope about his -neck and the brand of the gallows on his name out of tenderness for a -baggage of the theatre whom he did not even know? - -Buckingham was right. He was a fool. All his life he had been a fool, -scrupulous in trifles, negligent in the greater things. And now upon -the most trifling scruple of all he would fitly sacrifice his life. - -Abruptly he swung round and squarely faced the Duke. - -“Your grace,” he said hoarsely, “I am your man.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE SEDAN-CHAIR - - -His Grace behaved generously, and at the same time with a prudence -which reveals the alert and calculating mind of this gifted man, who -might have been great had he been less of a voluptuary. - -He attended with Holles before the Justices early on the morrow, -announcing himself able to confirm out of his own knowledge the truth -of the account which the Colonel gave of his relations with the -attainted Tucker. To that his grace added the assertion that he was -ready--if more were needed--to stand surety for the loyalty of this -suspected man whom he now pronounced his friend. More was not needed. -The sycophantic court bent the knee before this great gentleman who -enjoyed the close friendship of his King, and even professed regret -that certain reckless and malicious statements should have deceived it -into troubling the peace of Colonel Holles, and putting His Grace of -Buckingham to the present inconvenience. The Colonel’s antecedents, -which, without Buckingham’s protection, might have been the gravest -source of trouble, were not so much as touched upon. - -There was in all this nothing in the least unreasonable. Had the -offence of which Colonel Holles was suspected been anything less than -treason, it is not to be supposed that the Duke would have been able to -carry matters with quite so high a hand. But it was utterly unthinkable -that His Grace of Buckingham, whose loyalty stood so high, whose whole -life bore witness to his deep attachment to the House of Stuart, and -who was notoriously one of His Majesty’s closest and most intimate -companions, should offer to stand surety for a man against whom the -merest suspicion of disloyalty would be justified. - -Thus at the outset was Holles delivered from his worst peril. Next he -was informed that, since service of any distinction in England was -almost out of the question for his father’s son, Buckingham would -supply him with letters to several high-placed friends of his own -in France, where a capable soldier well recommended need never lack -employment. If Colonel Holles made the most of the opportunity thus -afforded him, his future should be assured and his days of adversity at -an end. This Holles clearly perceived for himself, and the reflection -served to stifle any lingering qualms of conscience over the unworthy -nature of the immediate service to which he was committed and to assure -him that he would, indeed, have been a fool had he permitted any -mawkish sentimentality to deprive him of this the greatest opportunity -of all his life. - -In this resolve to send Holles out of England the moment the service -required of him should be accomplished, Buckingham again reveals his -astuteness. Further, he reveals it in the fact that to assist the -Colonel he placed at his disposal four of the French lackeys in his -pay. It was his intention to repatriate them, packing them off to -France together with Holles, as soon as the thing were done. - -Thus, in the event of any trouble afterwards with the law, he would -have removed the only possible witnesses. The unsupported word of Miss -Farquharson--even in the extreme, and in his grace’s view unlikely, -event of her not accepting the situation--would be the only thing -against him; and in that case he did not think that he need gravely -apprehend the accusations of an actress, which he would have no great -difficulty in answering. - -From attendance before the Justices, Colonel Holles repaired straight -to Fenchurch Street to conclude arrangements with the owner of the -house in Knight Ryder Street. Of this he now acquired the tenancy in -his own name for the term of one year. The merchant did not trouble to -conceal the fact that he regarded Colonel Holles as crazy to desire -to take up his residence in an infected city from which all who were -able were making haste to remove themselves. Had the Colonel needed a -reminder of it, he had it in the fact that he was constrained to go on -foot, not only because hackney-coaches were now rare, but because the -use of them was considered highly imprudent, since so many had been -used by infected persons. Doors smeared with the red cross and guarded -by watchmen were becoming commonplaces, and the comparatively few -people met in the streets who still sought to maintain the normal tenor -and business of their lives moved with the listlessness of despondency -or else with the watchfulness of hunted creatures. The pungent smell of -electuaries, and particularly of camphor, was wafted to the Colonel’s -nostrils from the person of almost every man he met. - -He may have thought again that--as he had already admirably expressed -it--Buckingham was led by his passion like a blind man by his dog, to -come thrusting himself at such a time into the City, and he may have -taken satisfaction in the thought that he, himself, so soon as this -business should be accomplished, was to shake the poisonous dust of -London from his feet. - -Matters concluded with the merchant, the Colonel went to take -possession of the house, and he installed there two of the four French -lackeys the Duke had lent him for myrmidons. - -After that there was little to do but wait until Saturday, since, for -reasons which the Duke had given him, the attempt should not be made -before. That evening, however, and the next, the Colonel repaired -to Lincoln’s Inn to watch from a safe distance Miss Farquharson’s -departure from the theatre, and so inform himself precisely of her -habits in the matter. On both occasions she came forth at the same -time--a few minutes after seven, and entered her waiting sedan-chair, -in which she was borne away. - -On Friday evening Holles went again, at six o’clock, and he had been -waiting half an hour before the chair that was to convey her home made -its appearance. It was the same chair as before and borne by the same -men. - -Holles lounged forward to engage them in talk. Of set purpose and -despite the warm weather, he had donned a well-worn leather jerkin -to cover and conceal his fairly presentable coat. He had removed -the feather from his hat, and all minor ornaments, replacing his -embroidered baldric by one of plain leather. A pair of old boots -completed the studied shabbiness of his appearance, and gave him the -air of a down-at-heel ruffler, ready to make a friend of any man. - -He slouched towards the chairmen, pulling at a clay pipe, a man with -time on his hands. And they, sitting on the shafts of the chair--one on -each side, so as to balance each other--were nothing loath to have the -tedium of their waiting beguiled by the thrasonical garrulousness his -appearance led them to expect. - -He did not disappoint them. He talked of the pestilence and of the war, -and of the favouritism practised at Court, which bestowed commands -upon all manner of incompetent fops and kept a hardened and stout -old soldier like himself cooling his heels in London’s plague-ridden -streets. In this last respect he made them find him ridiculous, so that -they rallied and covertly mocked him and hugely enjoyed themselves at -his expense, to all of which it appeared to them that his monstrous -ruffler’s vanity made him blind. Finally he invited them to come and -drink with him, and they were nothing reluctant to permit him thus to -add physical to the mental entertainment he had already afforded them. -In their spirit of raillery, and to involve this foolish fellow in -the utmost expense, they would have conducted him to The Grange. But -the foolish fellow had more reasons than one for preferring an obscure -little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row, and it was thither that -he now conducted his newly made friends and guests. - -When at last they parted, the chairmen compelled to it by the necessity -to be back at their post by seven o’clock, it was with voluble -protestations of friendship on the part of Holles. He must come and see -them soon again, he vowed. They were fellows after his own heart, he -assured them. Eagerly they returned the compliment, and, as they made -their way back to the theatre, they laughed not a little over the empty -vanity of that silly pigeon, and their own wit and cleverness in having -fooled him to the top of his ridiculous bent. - -It might have given their hilarity pause could they have seen the -grimly cunning smile that curled the lips of that same silly pigeon as -he trudged away from the scene of their blithe encounter. - -On the following evening--which was that of Saturday--you behold -him there again, at about the same hour, joyously hailed by Miss -Farquharson’s chairmen in a manner impudently blending greeting with -derision. - -“Good-evening, Sir John,” cried one, and, “Good-evening, my lord,” the -other. - -The Colonel, whose swaggering carriage was suggestive of a mild -intoxication, planted his feet wide, and regarded the twain owlishly. - -“I am not Sir John, and I am not my lord,” he reproved them, whereupon -they laughed. “Though, mark you,” he added, more ponderously, “mark -you, I might be both if I had my dues. There’s many a Whitehall pimp is -my lord with less claim to the dignity than I have. Aye, a deal less.” - -“Any fool can see that to look at you,” said Jake. - -“Aye--any fool,” said Nathaniel, sardonic and ambiguous. - -The Colonel evidently chose the meaning that was flattering to himself. - -“You’re good fellows,” he commended them. “Very good fellows.” And -abruptly he added: “What should you say, now, to a cup of sack?” - -Their eyes gleamed. Had it been ale they would have assented gladly -enough. But sack! That was a nobleman’s drink that did not often come -their lowly way. They looked at each other. - -“Eh, Jake?” questioned one. - -“A skew o’ bouze’ll never hurt, Nat,” said the other. - -“That it won’t,” Nat agreed. “And there’s time to spare this evening. -Her ladyship’ll be packing a while.” - -They took the Colonel between them, and with arms linked the three set -a course for the little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row. The -Colonel was more garrulous than ever, and very confidential. He had met -a friend, he insisted upon informing them--an old brother-in-arms who -had come upon fortunate days, from whom he had succeeded in borrowing -a good round sum. Extending his confidence, he told them that probably -it would be many days before he would be perfectly sober again. To this -he added renewed assurances that he found them both very good fellows, -lively companions these plaguy days, when the Town was as dull as a -nunnery, and he swore that he would not be separated from them without -a struggle. - -Into the alehouse they rolled, to be skilfully piloted by the Colonel -into a quiet corner well away from the windows and the light. He called -noisily, tipsily, for the landlady, banging the table with the hilt of -his sword. And when she made her appearance, he silenced her protests -by his order. - -“Three pints of Canary stiffly laced with brandy.” - -As she departed, he pulled up a three-legged stool, and sat down facing -the chairmen, who were licking their chops in anticipatory delight. - -“’S norrevery day we meet a brother-in-arms whose norronly fortunate, -but willing ... share ’sfortune. The wine, madam! And of your best.” - -“Well said, old dog of war!” Nat approved him, whereupon the twain -abandoned themselves to uproarious laughter. - -The wine was brought, and the facetious pair swilled it greedily, -whereafter they praised it, with rolling of eyes and resounding -lip-smackings; they even subdued their raillery of the provider of this -nectar. When he proposed a second pint, they actually grew solemn; and -when after that he called for a third, they were almost prepared to -treat him with respect. - -There was a vacuousness in the eyes with which he pondered them, -swaying never so slightly on his three-legged stool. - -“Why ... you stare at me like tha’?” he challenged them. - -They looked up from the replenished but as yet untasted measures. His -manner became suddenly stern. “P’raps you think I haven’t ... money ... -pay for all this swill?” - -An awful dread assailed them both. He seemed to read it in their -glances. - -“Why, you rogues, d’ye dare ... doubt ... gen’l’man? D’ye think -gen’l’man calls for wine, and can’t pay? Here’s to put your lousy minds -at rest.” - -Violently he pulled a hand from his pocket, and violently he flung it -forward under their noses, opening it as he did so. Gold leapt from it, -a half-dozen pieces that rolled and rang upon greasy table and greasier -floor. - -In a flash, instinctively, the pair dived after them, and grovelled -there on hands and knees about the table’s legs, hunting the scattered -coins. When at length they came up again, each obsequiously placed two -pieces before the Colonel. - -“Your honour should be more careful handling gold,” said Jake. - -“Ye might ha’ lost a piece or two,” added Nat. - -“In some companies I might,” said the Colonel, looking very wise. “But -I know hones’ fellows; I know how to choose my friends. Trust a cap’n -o’ fortune for that.” He picked up the coins with clumsy, blundering -fingers. “I thank you,” he said, and restored them to his pocket. - -Jake winked at Nat, and Nat hid his face in his tankard lest the grin -which he could not suppress should be perceived by the Colonel. - -The pair were spending a very pleasant and profitable evening with this -stray and thirsty rodomont. - -They drank noisily. And noisily and repeatedly Jake smacked his lips -thereafter, frowning a little as he savoured the draught. - -“I don’t think it’s as good as the last,” he complained. - -The Colonel picked up his own tankard with solicitude and took a pull -at it. - -“I have drunk better,” he boasted. “But ’sgood enough, and just the -same as last. Just the same.” - -“May be my fancy,” said Jake, at which his companion nodded. - -Then the Colonel fell to talking volubly, boastfully. - -The landlady, who began to mislike their looks, drew near. The Colonel -beckoned her nearer still, and thrust a piece of gold into her hand. - -“Let that pay the reckoning,” said he, very magnificent. - -She gaped at such prodigality, dropped him a curtsy, and withdrew again -at once, reflecting that appearances can be very deceptive. - -The Colonel resumed his talk. Whether from the soporific dreariness of -this or from the potency of the libations, Jake’s eyelids were growing -so heavy that he appeared to have a difficulty in keeping them from -closing, whilst Nat was hardly in better case. Presently, surrendering -to the luxurious torpor that pervaded him, Jake folded his arms upon -the table, and laid his sleepy head upon them. - -At this, his fellow took alarm, and leaned across in an attempt to -rouse him. - -“Hi! Jake! We gotter carry ... ladyship home.” - -“Dammer ladyship,” grunted Jake in the very act of falling asleep. - -With dazed eyes Nat looked helplessly at the Colonel and shaped his -lips to utterance by a visible effort. - -“Too much ... drink,” he said thickly. “Not used ... wine.” - -He made a feeble attempt to rise, failed, and then suddenly resigned -himself. Like Jake, who was already snoring, he made on the table a -pillow of his arms, and lowered his head to it. - -In a moment both the chairmen were soundly asleep. - -Colonel Holles softly pushed back his stool, and rose. A moment he -stood considering whether he should recover the two or three gold -pieces which he was perfectly aware the rogues had filched from him. -In the end he concluded that this would be an unnecessary additional -cruelty. - -He lurched out of the corner, and the hostess hearing him move came -forward. He took her by the arm with one hand, whilst with the other, -to her amazement, he pressed a second gold piece into her palm. He -closed one eye solemnly, and pointed to the sleeping twain. - -“Very good fellows ... friends o’ mine,” he informed her. “Very drunk. -Not used ... wine. Lerrem sleep in peace.” - -She smirked, clutching that second precious piece. “Indeed, your -honour, they may sleep and welcome. Ye’ve paid for their lodgings.” - -Holles considered her critically. “Goo’ woman. Ye’re a goo’ woman.” -He considered her further. “Handsome woman! Lerrem sleep in peace. -Gobbless you.” - -She thought a kiss was coming. But he disappointed her. He loosed -her arm, reeled away a little, swung round, and lurched out of the -place and off down the street. Having gone some little way, he halted -unsteadily and looked back. He was not observed. Having assured himself -of this, he resumed his way, and it is noteworthy that he no longer -staggered. His step was now brisk and certain. He flung something from -him as he went, and there was a faint tinkle of shivering glass. It was -the phial that had contained the powerful narcotic which he had added -to his guests’ wine whilst they were grovelling for the money he had -spilled. - -“Animals!” he said contemptuously, and upon that dismissed them from -his mind. - -The hour of seven was striking from St. Clement’s Danes as he passed -the back door of the playhouse and the untended chair that waited there -for Miss Farquharson. Farther down the narrow street a couple of men -were lounging who at a little distance might have been mistaken for -the very chairmen he had left slumbering in the alehouse. Their plain -liveries at least were very similar, and they were covered with broad -round hats identical with those of Miss Farquharson’s bearers, worn at -an angle that left their faces scarcely visible. - -Sauntering casually, Colonel Holles came up with them. The street -thereabouts was practically untenanted. - -“Is all well?” he asked them. - -“The people have quitted the theatre some ten minutes since,” one of -them answered him in indifferent English. - -“To your places, then. You know your tale if there are any questions.” - -They nodded, and lounged along, eventually to lean against the theatre -wall in the neighbourhood of the chair, obviously its bearers. The tale -they were to tell at need was that Jake had been taken ill; it was -feared that he was seized with the plague. Nat, who was remaining with -him, had begged these two to take their places with the chair. - -Holles took cover in a doorway, whence he could watch the scene of -action, and there disposed himself to wait. The vigil proved a long -one. As Jake had remarked to his companion, Miss Farquharson was likely -to be late in leaving. On this the final evening at the Duke’s Theatre -she would have packing to do, and there would perhaps be protracted -farewells among the players. Of the latter several had already -emerged from that little doorway and had departed on foot. Still Miss -Farquharson did not come, and already the evening shadows began to -deepen in the street. - -If Colonel Holles was exercised by a certain impatience on the one -hand, on the other he was comforted by the reflection that there was -gain to his enterprise in delay. The thing he had to do would be better -accomplished in the dusk; best, indeed, in the dark. So he waited, and -Buckingham’s two French lackeys, disguised as chairmen, waited also. -They had the advantage of knowing Miss Farquharson by sight, having -twice seen her at close quarters, once on the occasion of her visit to -Wallingford House and again on the day of her mock-rescue in Paul’s -Yard. - -At last, at a little after half-past eight, when already objects -were become indistinctly visible at a little distance, she made her -appearance in the doorway. She came accompanied by Mr. Betterton, -and was followed by the theatre doorkeeper. She paused to deliver to -the latter certain instructions in the matter of her packages, then -Mr. Betterton escorted her gallantly to her chair. The chairmen were -already at their places to which they had sprung immediately upon her -coming forth. One, standing behind the chair, by raising its hinged -roof made of this a screen for himself. The other, by the foreshafts -endeavoured to find cover beside the body of the chair itself. - -Gathering her hooded cloak about her, she stepped into the sedan. -Betterton bowed low over her hand in valediction. As he stood back, -the chairman in front closed the apron, whilst the one behind lowered -the roof. Then, taking their places between the shafts, they raised -the chair and began to move away with it. From within Miss Farquharson -waved a delicate hand to Mr. Betterton, who stood bowing, bareheaded. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE ABDUCTION - - -The chair swung past the grotesque wooden structure of Temple Bar and -along Fleet Street in the deepening dusk of that summer evening, and -this being the normal way it should have taken there was so far nothing -to alarm its occupant. But as its bearers were about to turn to the -right, to plunge into the narrow alley leading down to Salisbury Court, -a man suddenly emerged from that black gulf to check their progress. -The man was Holles, who had gained the place ahead of them. - -“Back!” he called to them, as he advanced. “You cannot pass. There is -a riot down there about a plague-stricken house which has been broken -open, and the pestilence is being scattered to the four winds. You -cannot go this way.” - -The bearers halted. “What way, then?” the foremost inquired. - -“Whither would you go?” the man asked him. - -“To Salisbury Court.” - -“Why, that is my way. You must go round by the Fleet Ditch, as I must. -Come, follow me.” And he went ahead briskly down Fleet Street. - -The chair resumed its way in the altered direction. Miss Farquharson -had leaned forward when it halted to hear what was said. She had -observed no closed house in the alley upon coming that way some hours -ago in daylight. But she saw no reason to doubt the warning on that -account. Infected houses were, after all, growing common enough by now -in London streets, and she was relieved that the closing of the theatre -was to permit her own withdrawal into the country, away from that -pestilential atmosphere. - -She sat back again with a little sigh of weariness, and in silence -suffered herself to be borne along. - -But when they came to the Fleet Ditch, instead of turning to the right -her bearers kept straight on, following ever in the wake of that tall -cloaked man who had offered to conduct them. They were halfway over -the bridge before Miss Farquharson became aware of what was happening. -She leaned forward and called to them that they were mistaking the -way. They took no more heed of her than if they had been stone-deaf, -and trudged stolidly onward. She cried out to them more loudly and -insistently. Still they took no notice. They were across the bridge, -and swinging away now to the right towards the river. Miss Farquharson -came to the conclusion that there must be some way back of which she -was not aware, and that some good reason inspired their guide. So, for -all that she still accounted it strange that the chairmen should have -been so deaf to her commands, she allowed them now to proceed without -further interference. But when far from finding any way to recross -the ditch, the chair suddenly turned to the left in the direction of -Baynard’s Castle, her bewilderment suddenly redoubled. - -“Stop!” she called to them. “You are going the wrong way. Set down the -chair at once. Set down, I say!” - -They heeded her as little as before. Not only did they press steadily -onward, but they even quickened their pace, stumbling over the rough -cobbles of the street in the darkness that pervaded it. Alarm awoke in -her. - -“Nathaniel,” she called shrilly, leaning forward, and vainly seeking to -grasp the shoulder just beyond her reach. “Nathaniel!” - -Her alarm increased. Was this really Nathaniel or was it some one else? -There was something sinisterly purposeful in the stolid manner in which -the fellow plodded on unheeding. The tall man ahead who led them, -little more than a dark outline now, had slackened his step, so that -the chair was rapidly overtaking him. - -She attempted to rise, to force up the roof of the chair, to thrust -open the apron in front of her. But neither yielded to her exertions. -And in the end she realized that both had been fastened. That made an -end of any doubt with which she may still have been deluding herself. -She yielded to terror and her screams for help awoke the silent echoes -of the street. The tall man halted, turned, rapped out an oath, and -authoritatively commanded the men to set down. But even as he issued -the order the flare of a link suddenly made its appearance at the -corner of Paul’s Chains, and in the ring of yellow light it cast they -could discern the black outlines of three or four moving figures. Light -and figures paused a moment there, checked by the girl’s cries. Then -abruptly they flung forward at clattering speed. - -“On! On!” Holles bade the chairmen curtly, and himself went forward -again, the chair now following with Miss Farquharson steadily shrieking -for help and beating frenziedly upon roof and apron. - -She, too, had seen those Heaven-sent rescuers rushing swiftly to meet -them, and she may have caught in the torchlight the livid gleam of -swords drawn for her deliverance. - -They were a party of three gentlemen lighted by a link-boy, on their -homeward way. They were young and adventurous, as it chanced, and very -ready to bare their blades in defence of a lady in distress. - -But it happened that this was a contingency for which Holles was -fully prepared, one, indeed, which he could not have left out of his -calculations. - -The foremost of those hastening gallants was suddenly upon him, his -point at the level of the Colonel’s breast, and bawling dramatically: - -“Stand, villain!” - -“Stand yourself, fool,” Holles answered him in tones of impatient -scorn, making no shift to draw in self-defence. “Back--all of you--on -your lives! We are conveying this poor lady home. She has the plague.” - -That checked their swift advance. It even flung them back a little, -treading on one another’s toes in their sudden intimidation. Brave -enough against ordinary men and ordinary lethal weapons, they were -stricken with instant panic before the horrible, impalpable foe whose -presence was thus announced to them. - -Miss Farquharson, who had overheard the Colonel’s warning and perceived -its paralyzing effect upon those rescuers whom she had been regarding -as Heaven-sent, leaned forward, in frenzied fear that the trap was -about to close upon her. - -“He lies! He lies!” she shrieked in her terror. “It is false! I have -not the plague! I have not the plague! I swear it! Do not heed him, -sirs! Do not heed him! Deliver me from these villains. Oh, of your -charity, sirs ... in God’s name ... do not abandon me, or I am a lost -woman else!” - -They stood at gaze, moved by her piteous cries, yet hesitating what to -believe. Holles addressed them, speaking sadly: - -“She is distraught, poor soul. Demented. I am her husband, sirs, and -she fancies me an enemy. I am told it is a common enough state in -those upon whom this terrible disease has fastened.” It was a truth of -which all London was aware by now that the onslaught of the plague was -commonly attended by derangement of the mind and odd delusions. “And -for your governance, sirs, I should tell you that I greatly fear I am, -myself, already infected. I beg you, then, not to detain me, but to -stand aside so that we may regain our home before my strength is spent.” - -Behind him Miss Farquharson continued to scream her furious denials -and her piteous entreaties that they should deliver her. - -If they still doubted, yet they dared not put their doubts to the test. -Moreover, her very accents by now in their frenzy seemed to confirm -this man’s assertion that she was mad. A moment yet those rescuers -hung there, hesitating. Then suddenly one of them surrendered to his -mounting fear and horror. - -“Away! Away!” he cried, and, swinging round, dashed off down the -street. His panic communicated itself instantly to his fellows, and -they went clattering after him, the link-boy bringing up the rear, his -streaming torch held high. - -Aghast, spent by her effort, Miss Farquharson sank back with a moan, -feeling herself exhausted and abandoned. But when one of the chairmen, -in obedience to an order from the Colonel, pulled the apron open, she -at once leapt up and out, and would have gone speeding thence but that -the other bearer caught her about her slender body, and held her firmly -whilst his fellow wound now about her head a long scarf which Holles -had tossed him for the purpose. That done, they made fast her hands -behind her with a handkerchief, thrust her back into the chair, and -shut her in. - -She sat now helpless, half-choked by the scarf, which not only served -to muffle her cries, but also blindfolded her, so that she no longer -knew whither she was being conveyed. All that she knew was that the -chair was moving. - -On it went, then away to the left, and up the steep gradient of Paul’s -Chains, and lastly to the right into Knight Ryder Street. Before a -substantial house on the north side of this, between Paul’s Chains and -Sermon Lane, the chair came to a final standstill and was set down. The -roof was raised and the apron pulled open, and hands seized upon her to -draw her forth. She hung back, a dead weight, in a last futile attempt -at resistance. Then she felt herself bodily lifted in strong arms, and -swung to a man’s shoulder. - -Thus Holles bore her into the house, wherein the chair, the poles -having been removed, was also presently bestowed. The Colonel turned -to the right of the roomy hall in which two silent figures stood -at attention--Buckingham’s other two French lackeys--and entered -a moderate-sized square chamber, sombrely furnished and sombrely -wainscoted from bare floor to whitened ceiling. In the middle of the -room a table with massive corkscrew legs was laid for supper, and on -its polished surface gleamed crystal and silver in the light from -the great candle-branch that occupied its middle. The long window -overlooking the street was close-shuttered, the shutters barred. Under -this stood a daybed of cane and carved oak, furnished with velvet -cushions of a dull wine colour. To this daybed Holles conveyed his -burden. Having set her down, he stooped to remove the handkerchief that -bound her wrists. - -It was a compassionate act, for he knew that the pinioning must be -causing pain by now to her arms. Under the broad brim of his hat, his -face, moist from his exertions, gleamed white, his lips were tightly -compressed. Hitherto intent upon the accomplishment of the business as -he had planned it, he had given little thought to its ugly nature. Now -suddenly as he bent over this figure, at once so graceful, so delicate -and frail, as a faint sweet perfume that she used assailed his nostrils -conveying to his senses a suggestion of her daintiness and femininity, -disgust of the thing he did overwhelmed him, like physical nausea. - -He turned away, to close the door, tossing aside his hat and cloak, and -mopping his brow as he went, for the sweat was running down him like -basting on a capon. Whilst he was crossing the room she struggled to -her feet, and her hands being now at liberty she tugged and tore at -the scarf until she loosed it so that it slipped down from her face -and hung in folds about her neck and shoulders above the line of her -low-cut, modish bodice. - -Erect there, breathing hard, her eyes flaming, she flung her words -angrily at the tall loose-limbed figure of her captor. - -“Sir,” she said, “you will let me depart at once, or you shall pay -dearly for this villainy.” - -He closed the door and turned again, to face her. He attempted to -smother in a smile the hangdog expression of his countenance. - -“Unless you suffer me to depart at once, you shall....” - -There she paused. Abruptly she broke off, to lean forward a little, -staring at him, her parted lips and dilating eyes bearing witness to an -amazement so overwhelming that it overrode both her anger and her fear. -Hoarse and tense came her voice at last: - -“Who are you? What ... what is your name?” - -He stared in his turn, checking in the very act of mopping his brow, -wondering what it was she saw in him to be moving her so oddly. Where -she stood, her face was more than half in shadow, whilst the light of -that cluster of candles on the table was beating fully upon his own. He -was still considering how he should answer her, what name assume, when -she startled him by sparing his invention further trouble in the matter. - -“You are Randal Holles!” she cried on a wild, strained note. - -He advanced a step in a sort of consternation, breathless, some sudden -ghastly emotion tearing at his heart, eyeing her wildly, his jaw -fallen, his whole face livid as a dead man’s. - -“Randal Holles!” she repeated in that curiously tortured voice. “You! -You of all men--and to do this thing!” - -Where there had been only wild amazement in her eyes, he beheld now a -growing horror, until mercifully she covered her face with her hands. - -For a moment he copied her action. He, too, acting spasmodically, -covered his face. The years rolled back; the room with its table laid -for that infamous supper melted away to be replaced in his vision by a -cherry orchard in bloom, and in that orchard a girl on a swing, teasing -yet adorable, singing a song that brought him, young and clean and -honourable, hastening to her side. He saw himself a lad of twenty going -out into the world with a lady’s glove in his hat--a glove that to this -day he cherished--bent upon knight-errantry for that sweet lady’s sake, -to conquer the world, no less, that he might cast it in her lap. And he -saw her--this Sylvia Farquharson of the Duke’s Theatre--as she had been -in those long-dead days when her name was Nancy Sylvester. - -The years had wrought in her appearance a change that utterly disguised -her. Where in this resplendently beautiful woman could he discover the -little child he had loved so desperately? How could he have dreamt of -his little Nancy Sylvester transformed into the magnificent Sylvia -Farquharson, whose name he had heard used as a byword for gallantry, -lavishness, and prodigality, whose fame was as widespread and -questionably lustrous as that of Moll Davies or Eleanor Gwynn? - -He reeled back until his shoulders came to rest against the closed -door, and stared and stared in dazed amazement, his soul revolted by -the horror of the situation in which they found themselves. - -“God!” he groaned aloud. “My Nan! My little Nan!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE PARLEY - - -At any other time and in any other place this meeting must have filled -him with horror of a different kind. His soul might have been swept -by pain and anger to find Nancy Sylvester, whom his imagination had -placed high and inaccessible as the very stars, whose memory had acted -as a beacon to him, casting a pure white light to guide him through the -quagmire of many a vile temptation, reduced to this state of--as he -judged it--evil splendour. - -Just now, however, the consciousness of his own infamous position -blotted out all other thought. - -He staggered forward, and fell on his knees before her. - -“Nan! Nan!” he cried in a strangled voice, “I did not know. I did not -dream....” - -It was enough to confirm the very worst of the fears that were -assailing her, to afford her that explanation of his presence -against which she had been desperately struggling in defiance of the -overwhelming evidences. - -She stood before him, a woman of little more than average height and of -an almost sapling grace, yet invested with something proud and regal -and aloof that did not desert her even now in this terrible situation -at once of peril and of cruellest disillusion. - -She was dressed, as it chanced, entirely in white, and all white she -stood before him save where the folds of the blue scarf with which -she had been muffled still hung about her neck and bosom. No whiter -than her oval face was her gown of shimmering ivory satin. About her -long-shaped eyes, that could by turns be provocative, mocking, and -caressing in their glances, dark stains of suffering were growing -manifest, whilst in their blue-green depths there was nothing but stark -horror. - -She put a delicate, tapering hand to her brow, brushing thence the -modish tendrils of her chestnut hair, and twice she attempted to speak -before words would come from her stiff lips. - -“You did not know!” Pain rendered harsh and rasping the voice whose -natural music had seduced whole multitudes, and the sound of it was a -sword of sharpness to that kneeling, distracted man. “It is, then, as I -thought. You have done this thing at the hiring of another. You are so -fallen that you play the hired bully. And you are Randal Holles!” - -A groan, a wild gesture of despair were the outward signs of his -torment. On his knees he dragged himself nearer, to her very feet. - -“Nan, Nan, don’t judge until you have heard, until....” - -But she interrupted him. His very abjectness was in itself an eloquent -admission of the worst. - -“Heard? Have you not told me all? You did not know. You did not know -that it was I whom you were carrying off. Do you think I cannot guess -who is the master-villain that employs you for his jackal? And you did -not know it was I--that it was one who loved you once, when you were -clean and honest....” - -“Nan! Nan! O God!” - -“But I never loved you as I loathe you now for the foul thing you -are become, you that were to conquer the world for me. You did not -know that it was I whom you were paid to carry off! And you are so -shameless, so lost to honour, that you dare to urge that ignorance as -your excuse. Well, you know it now, and I hope you are punished in the -knowledge. I hope that, if any lingering sense of shame abides in you, -it will scorch your miserable soul to ashes. Get up, man,” she bade -him, regally contemptuous, splendidly tragic. “Shall grovelling there -mend any of your vileness?” - -He came instantly to his feet. Yet it was not, as she supposed, in -obedience to her command, so much as out of a sudden awakening to the -need for instant action. All the agony that was threatening to burst -his soul must be repressed, all that he had to say in expression and -perhaps relieving of that agony, must wait. - -“What I have done, I can undo,” he said, and, commanding himself under -the stress of that urgent necessity, he assumed a sudden firmness. -“Shall we stand talking here instead of acting, when every moment of -delay increases your danger? Come! As I carried you hither, in defiance -of all, so will I carry you hence again at once while yet there is -time.” - -She recoiled before the hand that he flung out as if to seize her and -compel her. There was a sudden fury of anger in her eyes, a fury of -scorn on her lips. - -“You will carry me hence! You! I am to trust myself to you!” - -He never winced under the lash of her contempt, so intent was he upon -that one urgent thing. - -“Will you stay, then, and trust yourself to Buckingham?” he flung -fiercely back at her. “Come, I say,” he commanded, oddly masterful in -his overwhelming concern for her. - -“With you? Oh, not that! Never with you! Never!” - -He beat his hands together in his frenzy of impatience. - -“Will you not realize that there is no time to lose? That if you stay -here you are lost? Go alone, if you will. Return home at once. But -since you must go afoot, and you may presently be pursued, suffer me at -least to follow after you, to do what I can to make you safe. Trust me -in this ... for your own sake trust me.... In God’s name!” - -“Trust you?” she echoed, and almost she seemed to laugh. “You? After -this?” - -“Aye, after this. Because of this. I may be as vile as you are deeming -me; not a doubt I am. But I never could have been vile to you. It may -not excuse me to protest that I did not know it was against you that I -was acting. But it should make you believe that I am ready to defend -you now--now that I know. You must believe me! Can you doubt me in such -a matter? Unless I meant honestly by you, why should I be urging you to -depart? Come!” - -This time he caught her by the wrist, and maintained his hold against -her faint attempt to liberate herself. He attempted to draw her after -him across the room. A moment she hung back, resisting still. - -“For God’s sake!” he implored her madly. “At any moment Buckingham may -arrive!” - -This time she yielded to a spur that earlier her passion had made her -disregard. Between such evils there could be no choice. She looked into -his livid, gleaming face, distorted by his anguish and anxiety. - -“I ... I can trust you in this? If I trust you ... you will bear me -safely home? You swear it?” - -“As God’s my witness!” he sobbed in his impatience. - -There was an end to her resistance now. More: she displayed a sudden -urgency that matched his own. - -“Quick! Quick, then!” she panted. - -“Ah!” He drew a deep breath of thankfulness, snatched up hat and cloak -from the chair where he tossed them, and drew her across the room by -the wrist, of which he still retained his grip. - -And then, just as they reached the door, it was thrust open from -without, and the tall, graceful figure of the Duke of Buckingham, his -curled fair head almost touching the lintel, stood before them, a flush -of fevered expectancy on his handsome face. In his right hand he held -his heavily feathered hat: his left rested on the pummel of the light -dress rapier he was wearing. - -The pair recoiled before him, and Holles loosed her wrist upon the -swift, instinctive apprehension that here he was like to need his hands -for other things. - -His grace was all in glittering satin, black and white like a magpie, -with jewels in the lace at his throat and a baldric of garter blue -across his breast. - -A moment he stood there at gaze, with narrowing eyes, puzzled by -something odd in their attitudes, and looking from Miss Farquharson’s -pale, startled loveliness to the stiff, grim figure of her companion. -Then he came slowly forward, leaving the door wide behind him. He bowed -low to the lady without speaking; as he came erect again it was to the -Colonel that he addressed himself. - -“All should be here, I think,” he said, waving a hand towards table and -sideboard. - -Holles half-turned to follow the gesture, and he stood a moment as if -pondering the supper equipment, glad of that moment in which to weigh -the situation. Out there, in the hall, somewhere just beyond that open -door, would be waiting, he knew, Buckingham’s four French lackeys, who -at their master’s bidding would think no more of slitting his throat -than of slicing the glazed capon on the sideboard yonder. He had been -in many a tighter corner than this in his adventurous life, but never -before had there been a woman on his hands to hamper him and at the -same time to agonize and numb his wits with anxiety. He thanked Heaven -for the prudence which had silenced his impulse to bid Buckingham stand -aside when he had first made his appearance. Had he acted upon that, -there would very likely have been an end of him by now. And once there -was an end of him, Nan would lie entirely at the Duke’s mercy. His -life had come suddenly to matter very much. He must go very warily. - -The Duke’s voice, sharp with impatience, roused him: - -“Well, booby? Will you stand there all night considering?” - -Holles turned. - -“All is here, under your grace’s hand, I think,” he said quietly. - -“Then you may take yourself off.” - -Holles bowed submissively. He dared not look at Nan; but he caught the -sudden gasp of her breath, and without looking beheld her start, and -imagined the renewed horror and wide-eyed scorn in which she regarded -this fresh display of cowardice and vileness. - -He stalked to the door, the Duke’s eyes following him with odd -suspicion, puzzled ever by that something here which he perceived, but -whose significance eluded him. Holding the edge of the open door in his -hand, Holles half-turned again. He was still playing for time in which -to decide upon his course of action. - -“Your grace, I take it, will not require me further to-night?” - -His grace considered. Beyond the Duke Holles had a glimpse of Nan, -standing wide-eyed, livid as death, leaning against the table, her -right hand pressed upon her heaving breast as if to control its tumult. - -“No,” said his grace slowly, at last, “Yet you had best remain at hand -with François and the others.” - -“Very well,” said Holles, and turned to go. The key was, he observed, -on the outside of the door. He stooped and withdrew it from the lock. -“Your grace would perhaps prefer the key on the inside,” he said, -with an odious smirk, and, whilst his grace impatiently shrugged his -indifference, Holles made the transference. - -Having made it, he closed the door swiftly, and he had quietly turned -the key in the lock, withdrawn and pocketed it before his grace -recovered from his surprise at the eccentricity of his behaviour. - -“What’s this?” he demanded sharply, taking a step towards the Colonel, -and from Nan there came a faint cry--a sob scarcely more than to -announce the reaction caused by sudden understanding and the revival of -her hopes from the despair into which she had fallen. - -Holles, his shoulders to the door, showed a face that was now grim and -set. He cast from him again the hat and cloak which he had been holding. - -“It is, your grace, that I desire a word in private with you, safe from -the inconvenient intrusion of your lackeys.” - -The Duke drew himself up, very stiff and stern, not a little intrigued -as you conceive by all this; but quite master of himself. Fear, as I -think I have said, was an emotion utterly unknown to him. Had he but -been capable of the same self-mastery in other directions he might have -been the greatest man in England. He made now no outcry, put no idle -questions that must derogate from the dignity with which he felt it -incumbent to invest himself. - -“Proceed, sir,” he said coldly. “Let us have the explanation of this -insolence, that so we may make an end of it.” - -“That is soon afforded.” Holles, too, spoke quietly. “This lady, your -grace, is a friend of mine, an ... an old friend. I did not know it -until ... until I had conveyed her hither. Upon discovering it, I would -have escorted her hence again, and I was about to do so when your -grace arrived. I have now to ask you to pledge me your word of honour -that you will do nothing to prevent our peaceful departure--that you -will offer no hindrance either in your own person or in that of your -servants.” - -For a long moment, Buckingham stood considering him without moving -from the spot where he stood, midway between Holles and the girl, his -shoulder to the latter. Beyond a heightening of the colour about his -eyes and cheekbones, he gave no sign of emotion. He even smiled, though -not quite pleasantly. - -“But how simple,” he said, with a little laugh. “Nothing, indeed, could -be of a more engaging simplicity. And how touching is the situation, -how romantic. An old friend of yours, you say. And, of course, because -of that, the world is to stand still.” Then his voice hardened. “And -should I refuse to pledge my word, what does Colonel Holles propose?” - -“It will be very bad for your grace,” said Holles. - -“Almost, I think, you threaten me!” Buckingham betrayed a faint -amazement. - -“You may call it that.” - -The Duke’s whole manner changed. He plucked off his mask of arrogant -languor. - -“By God!” he ejaculated, and his voice was rasping as a file. “That is -enough of this insolence, my man. You’ll unlock that door at once, and -go your ways, or I’ll call my men to beat you to a jelly.” - -“It was lest your grace should be tempted to such ungentle measures -that I took the precaution to lock the door.” Holles was smooth as -velvet. “I will ask your grace to observe that it is a very stout door -and that the lock is a very sound one. You may summon your lackeys. But -before they can reach you, it is very probable that your grace will be -in hell.” - -Buckingham laughed, and, even as he laughed he whipped the light rapier -from its scabbard, and flung forward in a lunge across the distance -which he had measured with his very practised swordsman’s eye. - -It was an action swift as lightning and of a deadly precision, -shrewdly calculated to take the other by surprise and transfix him -before he could make a move to guard himself. But swift as it was, and -practised as was the Duke’s skill, he was opposed to one as swift and -practised, one who had too often kept his life with his hands not to -be schooled in every trick of rough-and-tumble. Holles had seen that -calculating look in the Duke’s eyes as they measured the distance -between them, and, because he had more than once before seen just such -a calculating look in the eyes of other men and knew what followed, he -had guessed the Duke’s purpose, and he had been prepared. Even as the -Duke drew and lunged in one movement, so, in one movement, too, Holles -drew and fell on guard to deflect that treacherous lightning-stroke. - -Nan’s sudden scream of fear and the clash of the two blades rang out at -the same moment. The Colonel’s parry followed on into the enveloping -movement of a _riposte_ that whirled his point straight at the Duke’s -face on the low level to which this had been brought by the lunge. -To avoid it, Buckingham was forced to make a recovery, a retreat as -precipitate as the advance had been swift. Erect once more, his grace -fell back, his breathing quickened a little, and for a moment the two -men stood in silence, their points lowered, measuring each other with -their eyes. Then Holles spoke. - -“Your grace, this is a game in which the dice are heavily cogged -against you,” he said gravely. “Better take the course I first -proposed.” - -Buckingham uttered a sneering laugh. He had entirely mistaken the -other’s meaning. - -“Why, you roaring captain, you pitiful Bobadil, do you think to -affright me with swords and antics? It is against yourself the dice -are loaded. Unlock that door, and get you hence or I’ll carve you into -ribbons.” - -“Oho! And who’s the roaring captain now? Who the Bobadil? Who the very -butcher of a silk button?” cried Holles, stung to anger. He would have -added more, perhaps, but the Duke stemmed him. - -“Enough talk!” he snapped. “The key, you rogue, or I’ll skewer you -where you stand.” - -Holles grinned at him. “I little thought when I saved your life that -night at Worcester that I should be faced with the need to take it -thus.” - -“You think to move me with that reminder, do you?” said the Duke, and -drove at him. - -“Hardly. I’ll move you in another way, you lovelorn ninnyhammer,” -Holles snarled back. - -And then the blades ground together again, and they were engaged in -deadly earnest. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE BATTLE - - -I do not suppose that any two men ever engaged with greater confidence -than those. Doubt of the issue was in the mind of neither. Each -regarded the other half contemptuously, as a fool rushing upon his doom. - -Holles was a man of his hands, trained in the hardest school of all, -and although for some months now sword-practice had been a thing -neglected by him, yet it never occurred to him that he should find -serious opposition in a creature whose proper environment was the -Court rather than the camp. The Duke of Buckingham, whilst making no -parade of the fact, was possibly the best blade of his day in England. -He, too, after all, had known his years of adversity and adventurous -vagrancy, years in which he had devoted a deal of study to the sword, -for which he was gifted with a natural aptitude. Of great coolness in -danger, vigorous and agile of frame, he had a length of reach which -would still give him an advantage on those rare occasions where all -else was equal. He regarded the present affair merely as a tiresome -interruption to be brushed aside as speedily as possible. - -Therefore he attacked with vigour, and his very contempt of his -opponent made him careless. It was well for him in the first few -seconds of that combat that Holles had reflected that to kill the Duke -would be much too serious a matter in its ultimate consequences and -possibly in its immediate ones. For Buckingham’s lackey’s were at hand, -and, after disposing of their master, he must still run the gauntlet -of those fellows before he could win to freedom with Nancy. His aim, -therefore, must be to disarm or disable the Duke, and then, holding -him at his mercy, compel from him the pledge to suffer their unmolested -departure which the Duke at present refused. Thus it happened that in -the first moments of the engagement he neglected the openings which -the Duke’s recklessness afforded him, intent instead upon reaching and -crippling the Duke’s sword-arm. - -Two such attempts, however, each made over the Duke’s guard on a -_riposte_, disclosed to Buckingham not only the intention, but also -something of the quality of the swordsman to whom he was opposed, -whilst the ease with which the Duke foiled those attempts caused Holles -also to correct the assumption upon which he had engaged. The next few -seconds fully revealed to each of them the rashness of underrating an -antagonist, and as their mutual respect increased they settled down now -to fight more closely and cautiously. - -In the background in a tall armchair to which she had sunk and in -which she now reclined bereft of strength, white with terror, her -pulses drumming, her breathing so shortened that she felt as if she -must suffocate, sat Nancy Sylvester, the only agonized witness of that -encounter of which she was herself the subject. At first the Duke’s -back was towards her, whilst, beyond him, Holles faced her, so that -she had a full view of his countenance. It was very calm and set, and -there was a fixed, unblinking intentness about the grey eyes that never -seemed to waver in their steady regard of his opponent’s. She observed -the elastic, half-crouching poise of his body, and, in the ease with -which his sword was whirled this way and that, she realized the trained -skill and vigorous suppleness of his wrist. She began to take courage. -She gathered as she watched him some sense of the calm confidence in -which he fought, a confidence which gradually communicated itself to -her and came to soothe the terror that had been numbing her wits. - -Suddenly there was a change of tactics. Buckingham moved swiftly -aside, away to his left; it was almost a leap; and as he moved he -lunged in the new line he now confronted, a lunge calculated to take -Holles in the flank. But Holles shifted his feet with the easy speed of -a dancer, and veered to face his opponent in this new line, ready to -meet the hard-driven point when it was delivered. - -As a result of that breaking of ground, she now had them both in -profile, and it was only now, when too late, that she perceived what -an opportunity she had missed to strike a blow in her own defence. The -thing might have been done, should have been done whilst the Duke was -squarely offering her his undefended back. Had she been anything, she -told herself, but the numbed, dazed, witless creature that she was, -she would have snatched a knife from the table to plant it between his -shoulder-blades. - -It may have been the sense of some such peril, the fighter’s -instinctive dread of an unguarded back, that had driven the Duke to -break ground as he had done. He repeated the action again, and yet -again, compelling Holles each time to circle so that he might meet the -ever-altered line of attack, until in the end the Duke had the door -behind him and both Holles and the girl in front. - -Meanwhile, the sounds of combat in that locked room--the stamp of -shifting feet and the ringing of blades--had drawn the attention of -the men in the hall outside. There came a vigorous knocking on the -door accompanied by voices. The sound was an enheartening relief -to Buckingham, who was finding his opponent much more difficult to -dispatch than he had expected. Not only this, but, fearless though he -might be, he was growing conscious that the engagement was not without -danger to himself. This rascal Holles was of an unusual strength. He -raised his voice suddenly: - -“À moi! François, Antoine! À moi!” - -“Monseigneur!” wailed the voice of François, laden with alarm, from -beyond the oak. - -“Enfoncez la porte!” Buckingham shouted back. - -Came heavy blows upon the door in answer to that command; then silence -and a shifting of feet, as the grooms set their straining shoulders to -the oak. But the stout timbers withstood such easy methods. The men’s -footsteps retreated, and there followed a spell of silence, whose -meaning was quite obvious to both combatants. The grooms were gone for -implements to break down the door. - -That made an end of the Colonel’s hopes of rendering the Duke -defenceless, a task whose difficulty he began to perceive that he -must find almost insuperable. He settled down, therefore, to fight -with grimmer purpose. There was no choice for him now but to kill -Buckingham before the grooms won through that door, or all would be -lost, indeed. The act would no doubt be followed by his own destruction -at the hands either of Buckingham’s followers or of the law; but Nancy, -at least, would be delivered from her persecutor. Full now of that -purpose, he changed his tactics, and from a defensive which had aimed -at wearing down the Duke’s vigour, he suddenly passed to the offensive. -Disengage now followed disengage with lightning swiftness, and for some -seconds the Duke found the other’s point to be everywhere at once. -Hard-pressed, his grace was compelled to give ground. But as he fell -back he side-stepped upon reaching the door, not daring now to set his -shoulders to it lest, by thus cutting off his own retreat, he should -find himself pinned there by the irresistible blade of his opponent. It -was the first wavering of his confidence, this instinctive craving for -space behind him in which to retreat. - -So far Holles had fought on almost academic lines, no more, indeed, -being necessary for the purpose he had been setting himself. But now -that this purpose was changed, and finding that mere speed and vigour -could not drive his point beyond the Duke’s iron guard, he had recourse -to more liberal methods. There was a trick--a deadly, never-failing -trick--that he had learned years ago from an Italian master, a soldier -of fortune who, like himself, had drifted into mercenary service with -the Dutch. He would essay it now. - -He side-stepped to the left, and lunged on a high line of tierce, his -point aimed at the throat of his opponent. The object of this was no -more than to make the Duke swing round to parry. The lunge was not -intended to go home. It was no more than a feint. Without meeting the -opposing blade as it shifted to the threatened line, Holles dropped his -point and his body at the same time, until he was supported, at fullest -stretch, by his left hand upon the ground. Upward under the Duke’s -guard he whirled his point, and the Duke, who had been carried--as -Holles had calculated that he would be--a little too far round in the -speed required, thus unduly exposing his left flank, found that point -coming straight for his heart. He was no more than in time to beat it -aside with his left hand, and even so it ripped through the sleeve of -his doublet and tore his flesh just above the elbow. - -But for that wound there might well have been an end of Holles. For -this trick of his was such that it must succeed or else leave him -that essays it momentarily at the mercy of his antagonist. That -moment presented itself now; but it was gone again before the Duke -had mastered the twitch occasioned him by the tearing of his arm. His -recovery and downward-driven _riposte_ were swift, but too late by half -a heart-beat. Holles was no longer there to be impaled. - -They smiled grimly at each other as erect they stood, pausing a second -after that mutually near escape of death. Then, as a succession of -resounding blows fell upon the door, Holles drove at him again with -redoubled fury. From the sound of the blows it would seem that the -grooms had got an axe to work, and were bent upon hacking out the lock. - -Holles realized that there was no time to lose; Buckingham, that his -safety lay in playing for time, and allowing the other’s furious -attacks to spend themselves against his defence. Twice again, despite -his wound, he used his left hand, from which the blood was dripping -freely, to dash aside the other’s blade. Once he did it with impunity. -But when he repeated the action, Holles took advantage of it to -fling himself suddenly forward inside the Duke’s guard, until they -were breast to breast, and with his own left he seized the Duke’s -sword-wrist in a grip that paralyzed it. Before, however, he could -carry out his intention of shortening his sword, his own wrist was -captive in the Duke’s blood-smeared left hand. He sought to force -himself free of that grip. But the Duke maintained it with the tenacity -born of the desperate knowledge that his life depended on it, that if -he loosed his hold there would be an instant end of him. - -Thus now in this fierce _corps-à-corps_ they writhed and swayed hither -and thither, snarling and panting and tugging, whilst the sound of the -blows upon the door announced the splintering of a panel, and Nancy, -half-swooning in her chair, followed the nightmare struggles of the two -men in wide-eyed but only half-seeing terror. - -They crashed across the room to the daybed under the window, and the -Duke went down upon it backwards in a sitting posture. But still he -retained his grip of the Colonel’s sword-wrist. Holles thrust his knee -into the Duke’s stomach to gain greater leverage. - -Now at last, with the increased strain that Holles brought to bear, -Buckingham’s fingers were beginning to slip. And then under a final -blow the door all splintered about, the lock flew open and the grooms -flowed into the room to their master’s rescue. - -Holles tore his wrist free at the same moment by a last wrench. But it -was too late. Casting the Duke’s sword hand from him, he sprang away -and round with a tearing sob to face the lackeys. For a second his -glittering point held them at bay. Then the blow of a club shivered -the blade, and they rushed in upon him. He felled one of them with a -blow of the hilt which he still retained, before a club took him across -the skull. Under that blow he reeled back against the table, his limbs -sagged, and he sank down in a heap, unconscious. - -As he lay there one of the grooms, standing over him, swung his club -again with the clear intention of beating out his brains. But the Duke -arrested the descending blow. - -“It is not necessary,” he said. He was white and breathing hard from -his exertions and there was a fevered glitter in his eyes. But these -signs apart he was master of himself. - -“Your arm, monseigneur!” cried François, pointing to the blood that -filled his sleeve. - -“Bah! A scratch! Presently.” Then he pointed to the prone limp figure -of Holles, from whose head the blood was slowly trickling. “Get a rope, -François, and truss him up.” François departed on his errand. “You -others, carry Antoine out. Then return for Bobadil. I may have a use -for him yet.” - -They moved to obey him, and picked up their fellow whom Holles had -felled before he, himself, went down. - -The Duke was not pleased with them at all. A little more and they might -have been too late. But to reproach them with it entailed an admission -which this proud, vain man was reluctant to make. - -They trooped out obediently, and Buckingham, still very pale, but -breathing now more composedly, turned to Nancy with a queer little -smile on lips that looked less red than usual. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE CONQUEROR - - -She had reached that point of endurance at which sensibility becomes -mercifully dulled. She sat there, her head resting against the tall -back of the chair, her eyes closed, a sense of physical nausea -pervading her. - -Yet, at the sound of the Duke’s voice gently addressing her, she opened -her long blue eyes, set now in deep stains of suffering, and looked at -this handsome satyr who stood before her in an attitude of deference -that was in itself a mockery. - -“Dear Sylvia,” he was saying, “I am beyond measure pained that you -should have been subjected to this ... this unseemly spectacle; I need -not protest that it was no part of my intention.” - -She answered him almost mechanically, yet the ironical answer she -delivered was true to her proud nature and the histrionic art which -would not be denied expression even in the extremity to which she was -reduced. - -“That, sir, I can well believe.” - -He considered her, wondering a little at that flash of spirit, from one -in her condition. If anything it but served to increase his admiration. -He sighed. - -“Ah, my Sylvia, you shall forgive me the shifts to which my love has -driven me, and this last shift of all with that roaring fool’s heroics -and what they have led to. Endeavour not to think too harshly of me, -child. Don’t blame me altogether. Blame that _cos amoris_, that very -whetstone of love--your own incomparable loveliness and grace.” - -She sat now stiffly upright, dissembling her fear behind a mask of -indignant scorn that was sincere enough. - -“Love!” she answered him in a sudden gust of that same scorn. “You call -this violence love?” - -He answered her with a throbbing vehemence of sincerity, a man pleading -his own defence. - -“Not the violence, but that which has moved me to it, that which would -move me to tear down a world if it stood between you and me. I want -you, Sylvia, more than I have ever wanted anything in life. It is -because of the very fervency and sincerity of my passion that I have -gone so clumsily to work, that in every attempt to lay my homage and -devotion at your feet, I have but provoked your resentment. Yet, child, -I swear to you that, if it lay in my power, if I were free to make you -my Duchess, that is the place I should be offering to you now. I swear -it by everything I hold sacred.” - -She looked at him. There had been a humility in his bearing which, -together with that vibrant sincerity in his voice, must surely have -moved her at any other time. It moved her now, but only to a still -greater scorn. - -“Is anything sacred to such a man as you?” She rose by an effort, and -stood before him, swaying, slightly conscious of dizziness and of -shivers, and marvelling a little that she should be unable better to -command herself. But she commanded herself at least sufficiently to -give him his answer. “Sir, your persecution of me has rendered you -loathly and abhorrent in my sight, and nothing that you may now do can -alter that. I tell you this in the hope that some spirit of manliness, -some sense of dignity, will cry a halt to you; so that you may disabuse -your mind of any notion that you can prevail by continuing to pursue -and plague me with your hateful attentions. And now, sir, I beg you to -bid your creatures fetch the chair in which I was brought hither and -carry me hence again. Detain me further, and I promise you, sir, that -you shall be called to give a strict account of this night’s work.” - -The whiplash of her contempt, which she was at pains to render manifest -in every word she uttered, the loathing that scorched him from her -lovely eyes, served but to stir a dull resentment and to arouse the -beast in him. The change was instantly apparent in the sneer that -flickered over his white face, in the ugly little soft laugh with which -he greeted her demand. - -“Let you depart so soon? How can you think it, Sylvia? To have been at -such infinite pains to cage you, you lovely bird, merely to let you fly -away again!” - -“Either you let me depart at once, sir,” she told him almost fiercely, -her weakness conquered now in her own indignation, “or the Town shall -ring with your infamy. You have practised abduction, sir, and you know -the penalty. I shall know how to make you pay it. I swear that you -shall hang, though you be Duke of twenty Buckinghams. You do not want -for enemies, who will be glad enough to help me, and I am not entirely -without friends, your grace.” - -He shrugged. “Enemies!” he sneered, “Friends!” He waved a disdainful -hand toward the unconscious Holles. “There lies one of your friends, if -what the rascal said was true. The others will not be more difficult to -dispose of.” - -“Your grooms will not suffice to save you from the others.” - -That stung him. The blood leapt to his face at that covert taunt that -it was only the intervention of his men had saved him now. - -But he made answer with a deadly smoothness. “So much even will not be -needed. Come, child, be sensible. See precisely where you stand.” - -“I see it clearly enough,” she answered. - -“I will take leave to doubt it. You do as little justice to my wits, it -seems, as ever you have done to my poor person. Who is to charge me, -and with what? You will charge me. You will accuse me of bringing you -here by force, against your will, and here retaining you. Abduction, in -short, you say; and you remind me that it is a grave offence at law.” - -“A hanging matter, even for dukes,” said she. - -“Maybe; maybe. But first the charge must be made good. Where are your -witnesses? Until you produce them, it will be your word against mine. -And the word of an actress, however exalted, is ... in such matters -... the word of an actress.” He smiled upon her. “Then this house. It -is not mine. It is tenanted by a ruffian named Holles; it was taken -by him a few days ago in his own name. It was he who brought you here -by force. Well, well, if there must be a scapegoat, perhaps he will -do as well as another. And, anyhow, he is overdue for the gallows on -quite other crimes. He brought you here by force. So far we shall not -contradict each other. What follows? How came I here into that man’s -house? Why, to rescue you, of course, and I stayed to comfort you -in your natural distress. The facts will prove my story. My grooms -will swear to it. It will then be seen that in charging me you are a -scheming adventuress, returning evil for good, seeking to profit by my -unwary generosity. You smile? You think the reputation bestowed upon me -by a scandalmongering populace will suffice to give that tale the lie. -I am not of your opinion; and, anyway, I am prepared to take the risk. -Oh, I would take greater risks for you, my dear.” - -She made a little gesture of contempt. “You may be a very master of the -art of lying, as of all other evil arts. But lies shall not avail you -if you dare to detain me now.” - -“If I dare to detain you?” He leaned nearer to her, devouring her with -his smouldering eyes. “If I dare, child? Dare?” - -She shrank before him in sheer terror. Then, conquering herself, -stiffening in every limb, she drew herself erect. Majestically, a very -queen of tragedy, she flung out an arm in a gesture of command. - -“Stand back, sir! Stand back, and let me pass, let me go.” - -He fell back, indeed, a pace or two, but only that he might the better -contemplate her. He found her magnificent, in the poise of her graceful -body, the ivory pallor of her face, the eyes that glowed and burned and -looked the larger for the deep, dark shadows in which they were now -set. Suddenly, with an almost inarticulate cry, he sprang forward to -seize her. He would make an end of this maddening resistance, he would -melt this icy disdain until it should run like water. - -She slipped aside and away in panic before his furious onslaught, -oversetting the high-backed chair in which she had lately been sitting. - -The crash of its fall seemed to penetrate to the slumbering mind of -Holles, and disturb his unconsciousness. For he stirred a little, -uttering a faint moan. - -Beyond that, however, her flight accomplished nothing. Two yards away -the wainscot faced her. She would have run round the table, but, before -she could turn to do so, the Duke had seized her. She faced him, -savagely at bay, raising her hands to protect herself. But his arms -went round her arms, forcing her hands down to her sides, and crushing -her hurtfully against him, heedless, himself, in his frenzy of the hot -pain in his own lacerated shoulder in which the bleeding was redoubled -by this effort. - -Helpless in his arms she lay. - -“You coward, you beast, you vileness!” she gasped. And then he stopped -her mouth with kisses. - -“Call me what you will, I hold you, I have you, and not all the power -of England shall tear you from me now. Realize it, child,”--he fell -to pleading. “Realize and accept, and you will find that I have but -mastered you only so that I may become your slave.” - -She answered him nothing; again that dizziness, that physical sickness -was assailing her. She moaned a little, lying helpless there in that -grip of his that to her was as loathly and deadly as the coiling -embrace of some great snake of which it brought the image to her mind. -Again he was kissing her, her eyes, her mouth, her throat, about which -still hung the folds of the blue scarf that had served to muffle her. -Because this offended him and was in some sense an obstacle, a barrier, -he seized one end of it, and, tearing it roughly away, laid bare the -lovely throat and breast it had so inconveniently veiled. - -Over that white throat he now bent his head like some evil vampire. -But his fevered lips never reached it. In the very act of bending, he -paused, and stiffened. - -Behind him he could hear the footsteps of his grooms reentering the -chamber. But it was not their coming that imposed this restraint -upon him, that dilated and bulged his eyes with horror, that fetched -the ashen pallor to his cheeks, and set him suddenly trembling and -shuddering from head to foot. - -For a moment he was as a man paralyzed. His limbs refused their office; -they seemed turned to lead. Slowly, where he would have had them swift, -his arms relaxed their grip of that sweet body. Slowly they uncoiled -themselves, and slowly he fell back before her, crouching forward the -while, staring ever, his jaw fallen, his face the face of a man in the -last extremity of terror. - -Suddenly he raised his right hand to point with a shaking finger at her -throat. Hoarsely, in a cracked voice, he spoke. - -“The tokens! The tokens!” - -The three grooms, entering at that moment, checked and stood there -just within the threshold as if suddenly turned to stone. - -The awakening Holles, on the ground, raising himself a little, and -thrusting back the tumbled hair which was being matted to his brow by -blood from his cracked head, looked dazedly round and up to see the -Duke’s shaking, pointing hand, to hear the Duke’s quavering voice, this -time, saying yet again: - -“The tokens!” - -His grace fell back step by step, gasping with dread, until suddenly he -swung about to face his men. - -“Back,” he bade them, his voice shrill. “Back! Away! Out of this! She -is infected! My God! She has the plague! The tokens are upon her!” - -A moment still they stood at gaze in this horror which they fully -shared with him. They craned forward, to look at Miss Farquharson, -leaning faint and limp against the wainscot, her white neck and -shoulders thrown into dazzling relief against the dark brown of the -background, and from where they stood they could make out quite plainly -stamped upon the white loveliness of that throat the purple blotch that -was the brand and token of the pestilence. - -As the Duke reached them, they turned, in sudden dread of him. Might he -not, himself, already carry upon him the terrible infection? With wild -cries of terror they fled before him out of the room, and out of the -house, never heeding the commands which, as he precipitately followed, -he flung after them. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -UNDER THE RED CROSS - - -The main door slammed upon those precipitately departing men. Their -running steps clattered over the cobbles of the street, and receded -quickly out of earshot. - -Colonel Holles and the woman he had sought so passionately long years -ago, until despair had turned him from the quest, were alone together -at last in that house, brought thither by that ironic destiny of his, -in circumstances of horror piled on horror. The very act by which at -last he had found her irrevocably lost her to him again. The very -chance that had brought them together, after all these years, flung -them at the same time farther apart than they had ever been; and this, -without taking into account the fact that she was a woman now with the -seal of death upon her. Was he not Fortune’s fool indeed? - -The violent slamming of that door appeared to rouse him to a further -degree of consciousness. Painfully he got to his knees, and with dazed -eyes looked round the room. Again he brushed back the tangle of hair -from his brow, and thereafter dully considered his hand which was wet -and smeared with blood. The mists that enveloped his brain, obscuring -and confusing his mental view of the events that had occurred before he -was stricken down and since consciousness had begun to return to him, -were now gradually dispersing. Understanding of where he was and how -he had come there grew clear at last. He rose to his feet, and stood -swaying a moment, looking round, dull-eyed as a drunkard. - -He beheld Nancy, her shoulders turned to him, contemplating herself -in an oblong Venetian mirror that adorned the wall beyond the table, -and in the mirror itself he beheld the reflection of her face. It was -ashen, and there was a staring, ghastly horror in her eyes. It was -then that he began to remember and piece together the incidents of the -confused scene upon which his gaze had fallen when first his mind was -dimly rousing itself. Again he saw Buckingham, crouching and shuddering -as he backed away from Nancy, pointing to her the while with a palsied -hand, and again he heard the Duke’s quavering voice, and the dread -words it uttered. - -He understood. Nancy was safe from Buckingham. She had been snatched -from the Duke at the eleventh hour by a ravisher even more merciless -and infinitely more foul. - -This she was herself realizing as she contemplated her image in that -little mirror and beheld the brand of the pestilence on her white -breast. Although she had never before seen that betraying purple -blotch, yet she had heard it described, and she could have had no -doubt of its significance even without the terrified explanation that -Buckingham had supplied. Whether it was from horror of what she beheld, -or whether from the workings of the fell disease--which may also have -been responsible for those moments of dizziness by which she had been -earlier assailed, but which she had assigned to emotion--she found her -image contracting and expanding now before her eyes; then she felt the -room rocking about her, the ground heaving under her feet as if it had -been the unstable deck of a ship. She reeled back, and knew, without -power to help herself, that she was falling, when suddenly she felt -herself caught, and supported. - -She looked up, and beheld the ghastly, blood-smeared face of Randal -Holles, who had sprung instinctively to her assistance. For a long -moment she stared at him, dull-eyed, a little frown of effort drawing -her brows together. Dully then she spoke: - -“Do not touch me. Did you not hear? I have the plague.” - -“Aye ... I heard,” he answered. - -“You will take the infection,” she warned him. - -“It is very likely,” said he, “but no great matter.” - -On that he lifted her in his arms, as he had lifted her once before -that night. Despite his shaken condition, the act cost him but little -effort, for she was very slim and light. Unresisting--for she was too -dazed and weak for any physical resistance now--she suffered him to -bear her to the daybed. There he set her down at full length, carefully -adjusting the wine-coloured cushions, so as to give ease to her head -and limbs. - -Then he passed round the couch to the shuttered windows, unbarred them, -and set the casement wide to let a draught of the clean, cool night air -into the stifling room. That done, he turned, and remained standing -there beside the couch, looking down upon her with eyes that were as -the eyes of some poor dumb beast in pain. - -The cool air revived her a little, set her pulses beating more -steadily, and cleared her mind of some of the numbness that had -been settling upon it. For a spell she lay there, panting a little, -remembering and realizing the situation and her own condition. Then she -raised her eyes to look at the ghastly, haggard face above her, and to -meet that anguished glance. For a little while she stared at him, her -own countenance expressionless. - -“Why do you stay?” she asked him at length in a dull voice. “Go ... go -your ways, sir, and leave me to die. It is, I think, all that remains -to do. And ... and I think that I shall die the easier without your -company.” - -He stepped back as if she had struck him. He made as if to answer -her; then his parted lips came together again, his chin sank until it -touched his breast. He turned, and with dragging feet walked slowly out -of the room, softly closing the door. - -She lay there invaded suddenly by a great fear. She strained her ears -to catch the sounds of his footsteps in the passage, until finally -the slamming of the door leading to the street announced to her that, -taking her at her word, he was gone, indeed. She sat up in alarm, -holding her breath, listening to his steps moving quickly now, almost -at a run, up the street. At last she could hear them no longer. Her -fears mounted. For all her brave talk, the thought of dying alone, -abandoned, in this empty house filled her with terror; so that it -seemed to her now that even the company of that dastard would have been -better than this horror of loneliness in the hour of death. - -She attempted to rise, to follow, to seek the companionship of -human beings who might yet afford her some assistance and ease her -sufferings. But her limbs refused their office. She got to her feet -merely to collapse again, exhausted. And now she flung herself prone -upon the daybed, and sobbed aloud until the searing pain in her breast -conquered even her self-pity, and stretched her writhing in agony as if -upon a rack. At last a merciful unconsciousness supervened. - -And meanwhile Holles was moving mechanically and instinctively at speed -up Sermon Lane in the direction of Paul’s. Why he should have chosen -to go that way sooner than another he could not have told you. The -streets were utterly deserted even at that early hour, for this was not -a time in which folk chose to roam abroad at nights, and, moreover, -the Lord Mayor’s enactments now compelled all taverns and houses of -entertainment to close at nine o’clock. - -Without hat or cloak, his empty scabbard dangling like a limp tail -about his legs, he sped onward, a man half-distracted, with but a vague -notion of his object and none of the direction in which its fulfilment -would be likeliest. As he was approaching Carter Lane, a lantern came -dancing like a will-o’-the-wisp round the corner to meet him, and -presently the dark outline of the man who carried it grew visible. This -man walked with the assistance of a staff which at closer quarters the -lantern’s rays revealed to be red in colour. With a gasp of relief, -Holles flung forward towards him. - -“Keep your distance, sir! Keep your distance!” a voice warned him out -of the gloom. “’Ware infection.” - -But Holles went recklessly on until the long red wand was raised and -pointed towards him to arrest his advance. - -“Are you mad, sir?” the man cried sharply. Holles could make out now -the pallid outline of his face, which the broad brim of his steeple-hat -had hitherto kept almost entirely in shadow. “I am an examiner of -infected houses.” - -“It is as I hoped,” panted Holles ... “that yours might be some such -office. I need a doctor, man, quickly, for one who is taken with the -plague.” - -The examiner’s manner became brisk at once. - -“Where?” he demanded. - -“Close at hand here, in Knight Ryder Street.” - -“Why, then, Dr. Beamish, there at the corner, is your man. Come.” - -And thus it happened that, from the sleep which had succeeded the swoon -that so mercifully whelmed her senses, Nancy was aroused by a sound of -steps and voices. Where she lay she faced the door of the room. And, as -through billows of mist that now rolled before her eyes, she saw the -tall figure of Colonel Holles enter followed by two strangers. One of -these was a little birdlike man of middle age; the other was young and -of a broad frame and a full countenance. Both were dressed in black, -and each carried the red wand which the law prescribed. - -The younger man, who was the examiner met by Holles in Sermon Lane, -came no farther than the threshold. He was holding close to his -nostrils a cloth that gave out a pungent, vinegary smell, and his jaws -worked vigorously the while, for he was chewing a stick of snake-root -as a further measure of prevention. Meanwhile, his companion, who was -that same Dr. Beamish he had recommended, approached the patient and -made a swift, practised, and silent examination. - -She suffered it in silence, too utterly trammelled by lethargy to give -much thought or care to what might now betide her. - -The physician held her wrist for a moment in his bony fingers, the -middle one upon her pulse. Next he carefully examined the blotch upon -her throat. Finally he raised first one of her arms and then the other, -whilst Holles at his bidding held the candle-branch so as to cast the -light into the armpit. A grunt escaped him upon the discovery of a -swelling in the right one. - -“This is unusually soon,” he said. “It is seldom before the third day -that there is such a manifestation.” - -With the forefinger he tested the consistency of that swelling, sending -sharp, fiery streams of pain through all her body as it seemed to her. - -He lowered the arm again, and straightened himself, considering her a -moment with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes. - -At his elbow Holles spoke in a toneless voice: - -“Does it ... does it mean that her case is beyond hope?” - -The physician looked at him. - -“_Dum vivimus, speremus_,” said he. “Her case need not be hopeless -any more than another’s. Much depends upon the energy with which the -disease is fought.” - -He saw the flash of Holles’s eyes at that, as through the Colonel’s -mind sped the vow that if it was a matter of a fight he was there to -wage it. He would fight the plague for her as fiercely as he had fought -Buckingham. Beholding his sudden transfiguration, the physician, in -charity--lest the man should delude himself with false hopes--thought -well to add: - -“Much depends upon that. But more--indeed all--upon God, my friend.” He -spoke to Holles as to a husband, for that, indeed, was the relationship -in which he conceived him to stand to the afflicted lady. “If -suppuration of that swelling can be induced, recovery is possible. More -I cannot say. To induce that suppuration infinite pains and tireless -labour may be necessary.” - -“She may depend on that,” said Holles. - -The physician nodded. “Nurses,” he added slowly, “are scarce and -difficult to procure. I will do my best to find you one as soon as -possible. Until then you will have to depend entirely upon yourself.” - -“I am ready.” - -“And in any case the law does not allow you to leave this house until -you can receive a certificate of health--which cannot be until one -month after her recovery or....” He broke off, leaving the alternative -unnamed, and added hurriedly: “That is Sir John Lawrence’s wise -provision for checking the spread of the infection.” - -“I am aware of it and of my position,” said Holles. - -“So much the better, then. And now, my friend, there is no time to -lose. Speed in applying remedies is often all. She must be brought as -quickly as may be into a free and full perspiration and for that she -must be got to bed without delay. If her life is to be saved, you must -get to work at once.” - -“Tell me but what to do, sir.” - -“Not only that; I come prepared to leave you all that you will require.” - -He produced a bulky package from his pocket, and, beckoning Holles -to the table, there opened it, and enumerated the lesser packages it -contained and the purposes of each. - -“Here is a stimulating ointment with which you will rub the swelling -in the armpit every two hours. Thereafter you will apply to it a -poultice of mallows, linseed, and palm oil. Here is mithridate, of -which you will administer a dose as an alexipharmic, and two hours -later you will give her a posset drink of Canary and spirits of -sulphur. The spirits of sulphur are here. Make a fire of sea-coal in -her bedroom, and heap all available blankets upon her, that she may -throw out as much as may be of the poison in perspiring. - -“For to-night, if you do that, you will have done all that can be done. -I shall return very early in the morning, and we will then consider -further measures.” - -He turned to the examiner: “You have heard, sir?” - -The man nodded. “I’ve already bidden the constable send a watchman. He -will be here by now and I’ll see the house closed when we go forth.” - -“It but remains, then,” said the doctor, “to have the lady put to bed. -Then I will take my leave of you until to-morrow.” - -This, however, was a service the lady was still able to perform -for herself. When Holles, disregarding the physician’s aid, had, -single-handed, carried her to the room above, she recovered -sufficiently to demand that she should be left to herself; and, despite -her obvious weakness, Dr. Beamish concurred that to permit her to have -her own way in the matter would be to make the more speed in the end. - -The effort of undressing, however, so exhausted her and awoke such -torturing pains that, when at last she got to bed, she lay there, -panting, reduced to a state of utter prostration. - -Thus Holles and the physician found her on their return. Dr. Beamish -placed upon a table at the foot of the bed all the things that Holles -would require, and, repeating his injunctions, took his leave at last. -The Colonel went with him to the door of the house. This was standing -open, and by the light of a lantern held by the watchman the examiner -was completing the rudely wrought inscription, _Lord have mercy upon -us_, under the ominous red cross which he had daubed above. - -Bidding Holles a good-night and a stout courage, the physician and -the examiner departed together. The watchman, who remained to hinder -any unauthorized person from passing in or out, then closed the door. -Holles heard the key being turned on the outside, and knew himself a -prisoner in that infected house for weeks to come, unless death should -chance to set him free meanwhile. - -Quickly now, urged by the thought of his task, utterly disregarding -the dull aching of his bruised head, he mounted the stairs again. -A memory flashed through his mind of those three gallants whom her -cries had attracted to her rescue, and who would have delivered her -from his clutches, but that he had scared them away with the lie--as -he supposed it then--that she was infected with the plague. Had their -rescue succeeded, in what case would she be now? Would there be one at -hand to fight such a fight as that for which he was braced and ready; -to give his life at need, freely and without a pang, that he might save -her own? Out of the anguish of his soul, out of the depths into which -he was plunged, he thanked God for this fight that lay before him, for -this disposition which made good come out of evil. - -He found her in a state of lethargy which, whilst leaving her a full -consciousness of all that had occurred and was occurring about her, yet -robbed her of all power of speech or movement. Lying there, her head -supported by the pillows, which it had been the doctor’s last service -to adjust, her wide, fevered eyes followed every movement of the -Colonel’s as, stripped now of his doublet, he went briskly about the -business of preparation. Anon under the pain which his ministrations -caused her, she sank into unconsciousness, and thence into a raving -delirium which for days thereafter was to alternate with periods of -lethargic, exhausted slumber. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE CRISIS - - -For five days, which to Randal Holles were as five years of mortal -anguish, she lay suspended between this world and the next. The -lightest straw of chance would suffice to tip against her the fearful -balance of the scales, the slightest lack of care and watchfulness -might result in the snapping of the slender thread by which life was -still tethered to her exhausted, fever-wasting frame. - -The doctor had succeeded beyond all his hopes in his quest of a -nurse-keeper, and he brought her with him to the house in Knight -Ryder Street, on the morrow of Nancy’s taking ill--a lean, capable, -good-natured, henlike woman of forty. But for all her competency and -willingness, had this Mrs. Dallows been alone in charge of the patient, -it is long odds that Nancy would quickly have succumbed. For no hired -attendant could ever have ministered to her with the self-sacrificing, -remorseful devotion of the broken adventurer who loved her. No -hired attendant could have brought to the task the strength of will -and singleness of purpose that drove the weary, faltering flesh -relentlessly along the path of this self-imposed duty. - -Not for a moment did Holles suffer himself to relax his vigilance, to -pause for a breathing in that grim fight with death. Of sleeping he -never so much as thought, whilst the snatches of food and drink that -constituted his meals, forced upon him by the nurse-keeper, were taken -there at Nancy’s bedside. - -Mrs. Dallows remonstrated with him, urging him to take some rest in the -hours during which she was herself on duty. It was in vain. Equally -vain were the same remonstrances when more authoritatively urged -by Dr. Beamish. Holles left them unheeded as he did the physician’s -recommendations that he should take some of the ordinary precautions to -keep himself immune. The balsam of sulphur which the little doctor left -with him to be used as a disinfectant was never touched; the wormwood, -masterwort, and zedoary pressed upon him as prophylactics were equally -neglected. - -“My friend,” the doctor had said to him as early as the second day of -her illness, “if you continue thus you will end by killing yourself.” - -Holles had smiled as he replied: “If she lives, her life will have been -cheaply purchased at the price. If she dies, it will not signify.” - -The doctor, ignorant of her true identity, and persuaded ever that the -twain were husband and wife, was touched by what he conceived to be an -expression of exemplary conjugal devotion. That, however, did not turn -him from his endeavours to reason Holles out of this obstinacy. - -“But if she should survive and you should perish?” he asked him, -whereupon Holles had amazed him by a sudden flash of anger. - -“Plague me no more!” - -After that Dr. Beamish had left him to follow his own inclinations, -reflecting--in accordance with the popular belief, which the doctor -fully shared--that after all the man carried in himself the most potent -of all prophylactics in the fact that he was without fear of the -infection. - -But, although Holles neglected all the preventive measures which the -doctor had so urgently prescribed for him, he nevertheless smoked a -deal, sitting by the window of her chamber, which was kept open day -and night to the suffocating heat of that terrible July. And the -great fire constantly maintained by the doctor’s orders, this heat -notwithstanding, did much to cleanse and purify the air. These things -may have helped to keep him safe despite himself, procuring for him a -measure of disinfection. - -It was entirely as a result of that tireless vigilance of his and of -the constant poulticings which he applied, that on the fourth day the -swelling in the patient’s armpit, having been brought to a head, began -to vent the deadly poison with which her veins were laden. - -Beamish was as amazed as he was delighted. - -“Sir, sir,” he commended the Colonel on the evening of that fourth day, -“your pains are being rewarded. They have wrought a miracle already.” - -“You mean that she will live?” cried Holles in fearful hope. - -The doctor paused, moderating his satisfaction, afraid of his own -optimism. - -“So much I cannot promise yet. But the worst is over. With proper care -and God’s help I trust that we may save her.” - -“Never doubt that the care will be forthcoming. Tell me but what is to -do.” - -The doctor told him, and the exhausted yet unyielding Holles listened -greedily to his instructions, flung off his deadly lassitude, and -applied himself diligently to the execution of all exactly as he was -bidden. - -And meanwhile, as if incubated by that terrific heat, the plague was -spreading now through London at a rate that seemed to threaten the -City with the utter extermination which the preachers of doom had -presaged. It was from Beamish that Holles learnt of that sudden, -upward, devastating leap of the pestilential conflagration, of the -alarming bill of mortality, and of the fact that the number of victims -within the walls amounted in that week alone to nearly a thousand. And, -apart from what the doctor told him, there were abundant evidences -of the havoc even within the narrow survey possible to him from his -prison. From that first-floor window, at which he spent long hours -of day and night, he beheld Knight Ryder Street--that once busy -thoroughfare--become daily less and less frequented, whilst daily, -too, the hum of London’s activity, which might be likened to the very -heart-beat of that great city, growing feebler and ever feebler, bore -witness to its ebbing life. - -There in Knight Ryder Street he could see the closed houses--and -there were already three of them within the radius of his view on the -opposite side of the street--each with its red cross and an armed -watchman day and night before its padlocked door. - -Victuals and what else was needed from outside reached them through -the agency of their own watchman. Holles, who was still plentifully -supplied with funds from what Buckingham had furnished him for this -adventure, would lower the necessary money from the window in a basket. -By the same means the watchman would send up the purchases he made -on behalf of those within, absenting himself when necessary for the -purpose, but always leaving the door locked and taking the key with him. - -On the comparative and ever ominously increasing stillness of the air -came intermittently, to increase the general melancholy, the tolling of -bells, ringing out the knell of the departed, and nightly, just after -dark and again before peep of day, there came now the clang of another -bell infinitely more hideous because of the hideous ideas with which -it had become associated, and the stillness of the street would be -disturbed by a creak and rumble of wheels, a slow clatter of hooves, -and a raucous voice uttering a dreadful summons: - -“Bring out your dead!” - -Peering down, as he ever did, he could make out the ghastly outline of -the dead-cart loom into view as it came slowly rumbling by, attracted -thither by those sealed houses, like some carrion-bird in expectation -of its prey. Invariably it paused before Holles’s own door, arrested -by the sight of the watchman and the red cross dimly revealed by the -light of his lantern; and that raucous voice would ring out again, more -direct in its summons, sounding now like a demand, revoltingly insolent -and cynical. - -“Bring out your dead!” - -Then, at a word from the watchman, the horrible vehicle would toil -slowly on, and Holles with a shudder would fling a glance over his -shoulder at the sufferer where she lay fevered and tossing, wondering -fearfully whether duty and pitiless necessity would compel him to -answer that summons when next it came, and surrender that lovely body -to join the abominable load in that hideous cart. - -Thus, until the morning of the sixth day, when from daybreak until past -eight o’clock he waited in a sudden frenzy of impatience for the coming -of Beamish. When at last he arrived, Holles met him at the stair-head. - -The Colonel’s face was ghastly, his eyes fevered, and he was trembling -with fearful excitement. - -“She sleeps--quietly and peacefully,” he informed the doctor, in a -whisper, a finger to his lips. - -Very softly they entered the chamber now and tiptoed to the bedside, -Holles in an agony of hope taking up his position at the foot between -the carved bedposts. A glance confirmed the news with which Holles -had met the physician. Not only was she in an easy, tranquil slumber, -such as she had not known since taking to this bed, but the fever had -entirely left her. This the doctor’s practised eye judged at once, even -before he moved to take her pulse. - -At that touch of his hand upon her wrist, she stirred, sighed, and -opened her eyes, sanely and calmly awake at last. She looked up into -the wizened, kindly little spectacled face of the doctor, blankly at -first, then with a little frown of bewilderment. But he was speaking -at the moment, and the words he used helped her groping wits to piece -together the puzzle of her surroundings and condition. - -“The danger is overpast,” he was saying. “She will recover now, thanks -be to God and to your own tireless care of her. It is yourself gives me -more concern than she does. Leave her now to the care of Mrs. Dallows, -and do you go rest yourself, or I tell you I will not answer for your -life.” He had been looking at Holles whilst he spoke. Now he turned to -consider her again, and found her conscious glance upon him. “See! She -is awake,” he cried. - -“The danger is overpast?” Holles echoed, his voice thick and unnatural. -“You say the danger is overpast? I am awake, good doctor? I have not by -chance fallen asleep at my post and come to dream this thing?” - -“You are awake, man, and I repeat the danger is at an end. Now go and -rest.” - -Wondering to whom it was the doctor spoke, whose was that raucous, -weary voice that questioned him, she slowly turned her head, and beheld -a gaunt, hollow-eyed ghost of a man, whose pallid, sunken cheeks were -overgrown with a course stubble of unshaven beard, standing between the -bedposts, clutching at one of them as if for support. Meeting her gaze, -he recoiled a step and loosed his hold. Then he swung half-round, a -hand to his brow. - -“Naught ails me, doctor,” he mumbled, and now she knew who he was and -remembered. “I would sooner....” - -His voice abruptly ceased in mid-period; he reeled, steadied himself -for an instant, and then toppled slowly forward and crashed at full -length upon the floor. Instantly Mrs. Dallows, with a little outcry -of alarm, was on her knees beside him; she turned him over, raised -his head, by an effort, and pillowed it in her lap as Dr. Beamish -came hastening up. The same thought was in the mind of both nurse and -physician. - -Nancy sought painfully--for she was very weak--to raise herself, that -she might see what was taking place there on the floor, beyond the foot -of the bed. - -Swiftly the doctor tore open the breast of the Colonel’s doublet; but -not even so much was necessary. At once he perceived what had happened. -It was as if the assurance that she was out of danger, and so no longer -in need of his ministrations, had snapped the reins of will by which -Holles had held his lassitude in subjection. Instantly Nature had -claimed from him the dues which he had so long withheld. - -“He is asleep,” said Dr. Beamish; and he almost chuckled. “That is all. -Help me to lift him to that couch, Mrs. Dallows. No need to carry him -farther or to do more for him at present. Never fear, you’ll not rouse -him--not until the clock has gone round once, at least.” - -They laid him there, a pillow under his head, and Beamish returned to -his patient’s side. She had sunk back again, but her eyes, looking -enormous now in her wasted cheeks, were still upon the figure of Holles -where he lay inert as stone, just within the orbit of her vision. - -“Sleep?” she questioned the doctor, wonderingly. “Is that sleep?” - -Never had she--nor, indeed, have many--seen slumber fell a man as if he -had been shot. - -“Nothing worse, ma’am. The Colonel has never so much as closed his eyes -for a whole week. Nature compassionately has closed them for him. No -need to afflict yourself on his behalf. Sleep is all he now requires. -So give yourself peace, and beware of making demands upon the little -strength that’s left you.” - -She looked at him intently. “I have the plague, have I not?” - -“Say rather that you had it, ma’am. You have it no longer. It has been -cast out of you. It has left you feeble; but that is all that ails you -at present. And you are a safe woman now. When you shall have recovered -your strength, you may go whither you will without further fear of the -infection. The plague will not touch you again. For the great mercy -thus vouchsafed you, you may render thanks to God, and, next to God, to -your husband.” - -She frowned, perplexed. - -“My husband?” - -“Your husband, ma’am. And a husband in a thousand--nay, in ten -thousand. I have seen many a husband lately, and I speak with -knowledge--alas! The terror of the pestilence can blot out every other -feeling. I have seen it happen time and again. But Colonel Holles is -not of those. His is a devotion that makes a hero of him; and, because -he has been fearless, he has been spared. Fortune favours the brave, -ma’am.” - -“But ... but he is not my husband.” - -“Not your husband?” said the doctor, confounded. And he repeated, -“Not your husband!” Then, with an affectation of cynicism very alien -in reality to the genial, kindly little man, “Gadso!” he ejaculated, -“perhaps that explains it. But what is he, then, who has all but given -his life for you?” - -She hesitated, at a loss how to define their relationship. At last: - -“Once he was my friend,” she answered. - -“Once?” The physician raised his bushy brows. “And when, pray, did he -cease to be your friend--this man who stayed with you in this infected -house when he might have fled; this man who has denied himself sleep -or rest of any kind in all these days, that he might be ever at hand -against your need of him; this man who has wrestled with death for -you, and rescued you at the risk of taking the pestilence a thousand -times for your sake?” - -“Did he do all this?” she asked. - -Dr. Beamish entertained her with the details of the heroism and -self-sacrifice that Holles had displayed. - -When the tale was done, and she lay silent and very thoughtful, the -doctor permitted himself a slyly humorous smile. - -“He may once have been your friend, as you say,” he concluded, smiling. -“But I cannot think that he was ever more your friend than now. God -send me such a friend in my own need!” - -She made no response, but continued very still and thoughtful for a -while, staring up at the carved canopy of this great strange bed, -her face a blank mask in which the little doctor sought in vain for -a clue to the riddle of the relations of those two. Had he yielded -to his inquisitiveness, he would have questioned her. But, other -considerations apart, he was restrained by thought for her condition. -Nourishment and rest were to be prescribed, and it was not for him, by -probing questions, to prove himself perhaps a disturber of the latter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE WALLS OF PRIDE - - -That evening Dr. Beamish returned, bringing with him, as on the -occasion of his first visit, a public examiner. This official came to -assure himself formally of the doctor’s assertion that a cure had been -effected, so that he might make his report thereupon, to the end that -after the lapse of twenty-eight days--provided that in the meanwhile -there were no fresh outbreak of pestilence in either of the other -inmates--the reopening of the house should be permitted. - -Holles, awakening from eleven hours of uninterrupted lethargic sleep, -but still heavy with lassitude, stood dully at hand whilst the examiner -held his formal inquisition into the conditions of the patient, of Mrs. -Dallows, and of Holles himself. As the Colonel stood there, gaunt, -pale, unshaven, and dishevelled, Nancy’s eyes considered him very -gravely, whilst he himself dared to turn never so much as a single -glance in her direction. - -When the examiner and the doctor passed at last from the room, Holles -dragged himself wearily after them. He followed them below-stairs, and -remained there alone after they had taken their departure. - -For twenty-eight days he was doomed to imprisonment in this house, and -he made his dispositions. That night he slept in a back bedroom on the -ground floor. In the morning, having prepared himself breakfast in the -kitchen, a matter in which Mrs. Dallows came to his assistance, he went -to straighten out the dining-room so that it might serve him for a -lodging during the period of incarceration that lay ahead. - -He found the room in utter darkness. It had not been entered since -the night of Nancy’s coming thither. He groped his way across to the -shutters, which he remembered to have closed by request of the examiner -after carrying Nancy from the room on that terrible night a week ago. -He pulled them open and let in a flood of daylight upon a scene each -detail of which reminded him poignantly of the happenings of that -night. There lay the chair overturned by Nancy as she retreated before -Buckingham. He imagined the circumstances in which it had fallen. There -on the polished blocks of the floor, under the table--where it had -escaped the eyes of Dr. Beamish--gleamed the blade of his own broken -sword, and yonder in a corner, whither it had rolled, the hilt which -his nerveless fingers had relinquished when he was struck down. On the -floor by the table there was a dull brown patch which he knew to have -been made by his own blood, and there were similar stains on the daybed -and on the napery of the table, which he guessed to have been made by -the blood of Buckingham. - -Fallen between the daybed and the window, he found the slender dress -rapier which Buckingham had used. The Duke had dropped it there when -he rose at the end of their grim struggle, and he had not paused to -recover it in his precipitate flight. - -For the rest, guttered candles, withered flowers, and rotting fruits -encumbered the table, and the lustre of glass and silver was dulled by -a film of dust. On the sideboard stood the array of dainty dishes that -had been prepared for that infamous intimate supper which had never -been consumed, rotting there, and loading the atmosphere of the room -with the evil odour of decay, which to Holles was like an exhalation of -the ugly memories they held for him. - -He flung the windows wide, and spent some time in setting the room to -rights, and ridding it of all that refuse. - -Thereafter he lay on the daybed smoking and thinking, and very -listless. And it was thus, in the days that followed, that most of -his hours were spent. If he did not regard himself as actually dead -already, at least he regarded himself as one whose life was ended, -one to whom death would bring a welcome relieving rest. Vaguely he -hoped--he would have prayed, but that he had long since lost the habit -of prayer--that the infection which he supposed present in this house -might claim him for her victim. Morning and evening, and ever and anon -throughout the day, he would open his doublet to finger his breast and -explore his armpits in expectancy, eager to discover upon himself the -tokens of the plague. - -But the irony that had ever pursued him thwarted now his desire -of death as it had thwarted his every desire concerned with life. -Living and moving in that house of pestilence, breathing its mephitic -atmosphere, he yet remained as immune as if he had been a “safe man.” - -For the first three days his existence was one of completest, listless -idleness. There were books in the house; but he had no desire to read. -He was content to lie there smoking and moping. Each morning Mrs. -Dallows reported to him the condition of the patient, which was one -of steady improvement, and this was confirmed by the doctor, who paid -two visits in the course of those three days. On the second of those -occasions he remained some time in talk with Holles, giving him news of -the dreadful state of things outside. - -Whitehall was empty now of all its courtly tenants with the single -exception of the Duke of Albemarle. Honest George Monk had elected -to remain undaunted at his post as the representative of his King, -to perform in the King’s name--and whilst His Majesty was busy at -Salisbury with the amorous pursuit of Miss Frances Stewart--all that -which a king himself should be at hand to perform in time of national -stress, to mitigate the tribulations of his subjects. - -Hopefully Holles inquired of Beamish if he knew aught of Buckingham. -Hopefully, that is, because he was expecting to hear that the Duke was -laid low by the infection. - -“Gone with the rest,” the doctor informed him. “He left Town for -the North a week ago, aroused to a sudden sense of his duty as Lord -Lieutenant of York by the fact that a French lackey in his household -was stricken with the plague. He’ll be safe enough in York, no doubt.” - -“A French lackey, eh? Only a lackey!” The Colonel’s face was overspread -with disappointment. “The devil watches over his own,” he grumbled. “A -wretched lackey pays for the sins of his master. Well, well, I suppose -there is a God--somewhere.” - -“Have you no cause to know it, sir, and to give thanks?” Beamish -reproved him. And Holles turned away without answering, beyond a sigh -and a shrug, which but served to increase the doctor’s perplexity over -the behaviour of the members of this odd household. That all was very -far from well there was abundantly clear. - -Acting upon a sudden impulse, Dr. Beamish left the room, and mounted -the stairs again--for all that his time was short and his patients -many. Dismissing Mrs. Dallows upon some trivial errand to the kitchen, -he remained closeted for five minutes with Miss Sylvester. That was the -name by which he knew her, the name by which she had chosen to make -herself known to both doctor and nurse. - -Whether it was as a result of what he said to her in those five -minutes, or whether other influences were at work, within an hour -of the doctor’s departure, Holles was sought by Mrs. Dallows with a -message that Miss Sylvester was risen, and desired to speak with him. - -The eyes of that kindly nurse, sharpened by solicitude, saw him turn -pale and tremble at the summons. His first impulse was to disregard it. -But, before making any reply, he took a turn in that wainscoted sombre -room. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he announced that he would -go. Mrs. Dallows opened the door, and held it for him to pass out, -tactfully refraining from following him. - -He was washed and shaven, tolerably dressed, and his long, well-combed, -golden-brown hair hung in long, smooth ringlets to the snowy collar -which Mrs. Dallows had found time to wash and iron for him. Thus he no -longer presented the wild, unkempt appearance that had been his when -last Miss Sylvester had seen him. But there was a haggard dejection -about the lines of his mouth, a haunting sadness about his eyes that -nothing could relieve. - -He found Miss Sylvester seated by the open window, where he himself -had sat throughout the greater part of those five days and six nights -when he had so unceasingly watched over her to beat back hungry death -from her pillow. She occupied a great chair set for her there by -Mrs. Dallows, a rug about her knees. She was very pale and weak, yet -her loveliness seemed to draw added charms from her condition. She -wore that gown of ivory white in which she had been carried to this -evil house, and her chestnut hair had been dressed with care and was -intertwined with a thread of pearls. Her long eyes seemed of a darker, -deeper blue than usual, perhaps because of the hollows her illness had -left about them. And there were other changes in her that in their sum -appeared almost to spiritualize her, so that to Holles she seemed to -have recovered something of her lost childhood, of her early youth, and -looked less like Sylvia Farquharson, the idolized player, and more like -the Nancy Sylvester whom he had known and loved so dearly. - -Wistfully she looked up at him as he entered, then away through the -open window into the hot sunlight that scorched the almost empty street. - -He closed the door, advanced a pace or two, and halted. - -“You sent for me,” he said, “else I should not have ventured to -intrude.” And he stood now like a groom awaiting orders. - -A tinge of colour crept into her cheeks. One of her slender, tapering -hands, that in these days had grown almost transparent, plucked -nervously at the rug about her knees. Ill at ease as she was, her -speech assumed, despite her, a stilted, formal shape. - -“I sent for you, sir, that I might acknowledge the great debt in -which you have placed me; to thank you for your care of me, for your -disregard of your own peril in tending me; in short, sir, for my life, -which had been lost without you.” - -She looked at him suddenly as she ceased, whereupon he shifted his -glance to the sunlight in the open so as to avoid the unbearable gaze -of her eyes that were gleaming like wet sapphires. - -“You owe me no thanks--no thanks at all,” he said, and his voice was -almost gruff. “I but sought to undo the evil I had done.” - -“That ... that was before the plague came to my rescue. In what you did -then, you sought at the risk of your life to make me the only possible -amend, and to deliver me from the evil man into whose power you had -brought me. But the plague, now. It was no fault of yours that I took -that. It was already upon me when you brought me hither.” - -“No matter for that,” said he. “Reparation was due. I owed it to -myself.” - -“You did not owe it to yourself to risk your life for me.” - -“My life, madam, is no great matter. A life misused, misspent, has no -great value. It was the least that I could offer.” - -“Perhaps,” she answered gently. “But also it was the most, and, as I -have said, far more than you owed.” - -“I do not think so. But the matter is not worth contending.” - -He did not help her. Persuaded of the scorn that must underline her -utterances, however smooth--because conscious that scorn was his only -desert--he accepted her words as expressions of a pitying gratitude -that offended. He stood before her, overwhelmed by the consciousness -of his unworthiness, in a mood of the most abject humility. But -unconsciously, without suspecting it, he had empanoplied this humility -in pride. His desire, above all, was to withdraw from an interview that -could be nothing but a source of pain. - -But she detained him, persisting in what he accounted her cruel charity. - -“At least the reparation you have made is a very full one.” - -“It would comfort me to hear you say it, could I believe you,” he -answered grimly, and would have taken his leave of her on that but that -she stayed him by her interjection. - -“Why should you not believe me? Why should I be other than sincere in -my desire to thank you?” - -He looked at her at last, and in his eyes she saw some reflection of -the pain he was suffering. - -“Oh, I believe you sincere in that. You wish to thank me. It is -natural, I suppose. You thank me; but you despise me. Your gratitude -cannot temper your contempt. It is not possible.” - -“Are you so sure?” she asked him gently, and her eyes were very piteous. - -“Sure? What else can I be? What else is possible? Do I not loathe and -despise myself? Am I so unconscious of my own infamy that I should -befool myself into the thought that any part of it can escape you?” - -“Don’t!” she said. “Ah, don’t!” But in the sorrow in her face he -read no more than the confirmation of the very thing she was feebly -attempting to deny. - -“Is it worth while to close our eyes to a truth so self-evident?” he -cried. “For years I sought you, Nan, a man without a stain upon his -name, to find you at last in an hour in which I was so besmirched -that I could not bear your eyes upon me. The very act that by a cruel -irony of chance brought us together here at last was an act by which -I touched the very bottom of the pit of infamy. Then--that dreadful -night--you regarded me rightly with loathing. Now you regard me with -pity because I am loathsome. Out of that pity, out of your charity, you -fling me thanks that are not due, since what I have done was done in -mitigation of my offence. What more is there to say? If this house were -not locked, and I a prisoner here, I should have gone by now. I should -have departed in that blessed moment that Beamish announced your danger -at an end, taking care that our paths should never cross again, that I -might never again offend you with the sight of my loathsomeness or the -necessity to render thanks for benefits received from unclean hands, -that you properly despise.” - -“You think that sums all up?” she asked him, sadly incredulous. “It -does not. It leaves still something to be said--indeed, a deal.” - -“Spare it me,” he begged her passionately. “Out of that same charity -that bids you thank me, spare me.” Then, more briskly, with a certain -finality, he added: “If you have commands for me, madam, I shall be -below until this house is reopened, and we can go our separate ways -again.” - -He bowed formally, and turned away. - -“Randal!” she called to him as he reached the door. He paused, his firm -resolve beaten down by that pleading utterance of his name. “Randal, -won’t you tell me how ... how you came into ... into the position in -which I found you here? Won’t you tell me that? Won’t you let me know -all--all--so that I may judge for myself?” - -A moment he stood there, white to the lips and trembling, fighting his -pride--that pride which was masquerading in the garment of humility, -and so deceived him that he suffered it to prevail. - -“Judge me, madam, upon the evidence you possess. It is sufficient to -enable you to do me justice. Nothing that went before, no vicissitudes -of my vagrant life, can extenuate the thing you know of me. I am a -scoundrel, a loathsomeness, an offence, and you know me to be this--you -in whose eyes I would ever have appeared as a man of shining honour. -Oh, God pity me! Don’t you see? Don’t you see?” - -Her eyes were suddenly aswim in tears. - -“I see that perhaps you judge yourself too hardly. Let me judge for -myself, Randal. Don’t you see that I am aching to forgive? Is my -forgiveness nothing to you?” - -“It would be all,” he answered her. “But I could never believe in -it. Never. You are aching to forgive, you say. Oh, blessed, healing -words! But why is this? Because you are grateful to me for the life -I have helped to save. That is the true source of your pity for my -soul’s deformity, which is urging you to utter this forgiveness. But -behind that gratitude and that forgiveness there must ever remain the -contempt, the loathing of this deformity of mine. It must be so. I -know it, or I know nothing. Because of that....” He broke off, leaving -the sentence there, completing it with a wry smile and a despairing -shrug. But she saw neither. She had averted her eyes again, and she -was looking straight before her into the sunlight, across to the -black-timbered, yellow houses opposite which were blurred in her sight -by tears. - -Softly he went out, and closed the door. She heard him go, and suffered -him to do so, making no further attempt to stay him, knowing not what -to say to combat his desperate convictions. - -Heavy-footed he went down the stairs, back to that room where he had -his being. And as he went his thoughts confirmed him. They had met at -last, those two, only that they might part again. Their ways could -never lie together. Overshadowing their joint lives there must ever be -the loathly memory of that irrevocable thing he had done. Even if he -were not the broken vagrant that he was, even if he had anything to -offer in life to the woman of his dreams, his action when he played -the jackal for Buckingham must render impossible between them any -tenderness that should be sincere and unalloyed. - -He was in a mood from which there was no escape. Pride hemmed his -soul about with walls of humility and shame, and there was no issue -thence save by the door that the plague might open. Yet even the plague -refused to stand his friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -EVASION - - -The weeks crept on, and August was approaching. Soon now the period of -quarantine would be at an end, and the house in Knight Ryder Street -reopened to liberate its inmates. Yet the passing of time wrought no -change in the mood of Holles. Not once again did he seek to approach -Nancy, and not again did she bid him to her presence. - -He informed himself constantly of her progress, and learnt with -satisfaction that she was fast recovering her strength. But Mrs. -Dallows who brought him this daily information was also at pains to let -him know at the same time that there was no recovery in spirits to be -observed in her charge. - -“She is very sad and lonely, poor, sweet lady. It would melt your heart -to see her, sir.” - -“Aye, aye,” Holles would gloomily make answer to that oft-reiterated -report. And that was all. - -Mrs. Dallows was not a little afflicted. And affliction in Mrs. Dallows -had the effect of heightening her resemblance to a hen. She perceived, -of course, that a mystery enshrouded the relations of these two, saw -that some obstacle stood between them, holding them apart--to their -mutual torment, since obviously they were designed to be lovers; and -more than once she sought to force the confidence now of one, now of -the other. Her motives, no doubt, were entirely charitable. She was -eager to help them, if it were possible, to a better understanding. But -her efforts to probe their secret remained unavailing, and she could -but sorrow in their sorrow. It was the more grievous and vexatious to -her because the deep concern of each for the other was manifest in the -questions each set her daily. - -Holles kept to his quarters below-stairs, smoking continuously and -drinking deeply, too, until he had consumed the little store of wine -the house contained. Then not even the nepenthe of the cup remained to -assuage his grim despondency, his repeated assertions to himself that -his life was lived, that he was a dead man without further business -above-ground. - -Thus August found them, and from the watchman he heard incredible -stories of London’s deepening plight, whilst from the window he nightly -beheld the comet in the heavens, that latest portent of menace, the -flaming sword of wrath--as the watchman termed it--that was hung above -the accursed city, stretching, as it seemed, from Whitehall to the -Tower. - -They were within three days of the reopening of the house when at last -one evening Mrs. Dallows came to him trembling with excitement, and a -little out of breath. - -“Miss Sylvester, sir, bids me say that she will be obliged if you will -step upstairs to see her.” - -The message startled him. - -“No, no!” he cried out like a man in panic. Then, controlling himself, -he took refuge in postponement that would give him time to think: “Say -... say that if Miss Sylvester will excuse me ... not this evening. I -am tired ... the heat....” he vaguely explained. - -The nurse cocked her head on one side and her bright little birdlike -eyes considered him wistfully. “If not this evening, when? To-morrow -morning?” - -“Yes, yes,” he answered eagerly, thinking only of averting the -immediate menace. “In the morning. Tell her that I ... I shall wait -upon her then.” - -Mrs. Dallows withdrew, leaving him oddly shaken and afraid. It was -himself he feared, himself he mistrusted. Where once the boy had -worshipped, the man now loved with a love that heaped up and fed the -fires of shame in his soul until they threatened to consume him. At -his single interview with Nancy he had exposed his mind. He had been -strong; but he might not be strong again. The gentleness of purpose of -which she had allowed him a glimpse, a gentleness born of her cursed -gratitude, might lead him yet to play the coward, to give her the full -confidence that she invited, and so move her pity and through pity her -full forgiveness. And then if--as might well betide--he should prove -so weak as to fling himself at her feet, and pour out the tale of his -longings and his love, out of her sense of debt, out of her pity and -her gratitude she might take him, this broken derelict of humanity, and -so doom herself to be dragged down with him into the kennels where his -future lay. - -There stood a peril of a wrong far worse than that which already he -had done her, and for which in some measure he had perhaps atoned. And -because he could not trust himself to come again into her presence -preserving the silence that his honour demanded, he suffered tortures -now at the thought that to-morrow, willy-nilly, he must see her, since -it was her wish, and she was strong enough herself to seek him should -he still refuse to go. - -He sat, and smoked, and thought, resolved that at all costs that -interview must not take place. One way there was to avoid it and -definitely to set a term to the menace of it. That was to break out -of the sealed house at once without awaiting the expiry of the legal -term. It was a desperate way, and it might be attended by gravest -consequences to himself. But no other course presented itself, and the -consequences mattered nothing, after all. - -The thought became a resolve and, having reached it, he gave his mind -peace. This, indeed--and not the pains and risks he had taken to save -her from the plague--was reparation. Anon, when she came to consider -and weigh his action, she would perceive its true significance and -purpose, and the perception might at last blot out the contempt of him -which perforce must be abiding in her soul however she might seek to -overlay it with charity. - -A thought seized him, and, growing to purpose, exalted him. He sought -pen, ink, and paper, drew a chair to the table, and sat down to act -upon his inspiration. - -“You have asked,” he wrote, opening abruptly thus, “to know by what -steps I descended to the hell of infamy in which you discovered me. And -I refrained from answering you lest I should arouse in you a further -measure of your blessed, self-deceiving compassion. But now that I am -on the point of passing out of your life, now that there is no chance -that we should ever meet again, I am moved to tell you all, that thus I -may bear away with me the fortifying hope that hereafter you will hold -my memory in a pity that shall be free of execration. - -“The tale of the ill-fortune that has pursued me begins on a May -morning, many years ago, when I rode full of hope and eagerness into -Charmouth, a youth of some substance and more pride, whose feet were -firmly planted upon an honourable road of life. I went to claim you -for my own, to lay my little achievement and the assured promise of my -greater ones at your dear feet.” - -He wrote on into the fading daylight. He lighted candles, and wrote on -with that swift fluency of the man who has a clear tale to tell and the -eloquence that comes naturally from a bursting heart. - -The candles, faintly stirred by the night breeze that came through the -open window, burnt down, and great stalactites of wax were hanging from -the sconces; still he wrote without pause. He heard, but did not heed, -the changing of the watchman at the door below. Later he heard, but -did not heed, the passing of the dead-cart with its accompaniment of -clanging bell and raucous summons. - -Once only he paused, to procure and light fresh candles, and then wrote -on. Not until long after midnight, not until the approach of dawn, did -he cease, his task accomplished. - -He sat back then in his tall chair, and stared straight before him, a -man bemused, considering. Thus awhile. Then from an inner pocket of his -doublet he drew a tasselled yellow glove that was slim and long and -sorely rubbed and stained with age. He considered it as it lay there -across his palm, and bethought him of that dawn many years ago when -it had dropped to him from his lady’s casement, and he had set it in -his hat, to be worn as a favour. He sighed, and a tear, wrung by the -anguish of this renunciation from his hardened, adventurer’s heart, -fell on his hand. - -Abruptly then he sat forward, and, snatching up the quill again, he -scrawled at fierce speed on the foot of the last of the written sheets: - -“Here is a glove that you bestowed on me in the long ago. I wore it, -as your knight wearing his lady’s favour in the lists of life, proudly -by the right of your gift and my unsullied honour. For years it was -an amulet to maintain that honour still unsullied against all trials -and temptations. Now that it has failed of this purpose through my own -cowardice and unworthiness, you may not wish me to retain it longer.” - -That manuscript--for it is hardly to be termed a letter--still -survives. Its faded characters cover some thirty pages of paper that -the centuries have tinted yellow. It has been--as you will surmise--in -my possession. It has supplied me with more than the mere elements of -this history, which without it could never have been written. - -He did not read it through when it was done. There was no time for -that. As he had poured it from his heart, so he left it. He folded the -sheets together, enclosing the glove within them, wrapped a thread -of silk about the package, and on the knot of this he made a disc of -wax which he sealed with his thumb. He superscribed the package, quite -simply, “To Miss Nancy Sylvester,” and stood it there on the table -against the stem of the candle-branch within view of the first person -who should enter that room. - -Next he drew forth his still well-filled purse, and emptied its -contents on to the table. One half he replaced; of the other he made -two packets, addressing one to Dr. Beamish and the other to Mrs. -Dallows. - -Softly then he pushed back his chair, and rose. He tiptoed to the -window, and peered down into the shadows where the watchman kept his -post, propped in a corner of the padlocked doorway. A sound of snoring -came to inform Holles that, as he had reckoned, the fellow slept. Why -should he have troubled to weary himself with a strict and wakeful -vigilance? Who could be so mad as to wish to incur all the penalties of -evasion from a house that was to be opened now in three days’ time? - -Holles went back. He took up his hat and cloak. Then, acting upon a -sudden thought, he sought his baldric, and to the empty scabbard that -was attached to it he fitted the slender dress-rapier that Buckingham -had left behind him. The blade was rather loose in that sheath, but he -contrived to jam the hilt. - -Having passed the baldric over his head and settled it on his shoulder, -he blew out the candles, and a moment later he was at the window again. - -He scarcely made a sound as he straddled the window-sill; then very -gently he let himself down, until he hung at full length, his toes not -more than three feet above the kidney stones of the dark, empty, silent -street. A moment he hung there, steadying himself, then loosed his -hold. He dropped very lightly, and, as he was wearing no spurs, he made -practically no noise at all. At once he set off in the direction of -Sermon Lane. - -The watchman, momentarily disturbed by the movements so near at hand, -caught a sound of footsteps retreating quickly up the street, but never -dreamed of connecting them with any one from the house he guarded. He -settled himself more comfortably in his restful angle, and sank back -peacefully into his slumbers. - -Nevertheless, the evasion of Holles had not gone as entirely -unperceived as he imagined. Slight as had been the noise he made, yet -it had reached the window of the room immediately above, and by that -window--which was the window of Nancy’s room--sat Nancy driven to that -vigil by thoughts that rendered sleep impossible. - -Her attention aroused by those furtive sounds below, she had leaned far -out from the casement and peered down into the darkness. She had heard -the soft thud of feet as Holles dropped to the street, and immediately -thereafter the patter of his retreating footsteps. Very faintly she -thought she made out at the same time the receding figure of a man, a -deeper shadow amid shadows. But however little she may have seen with -the eyes of the flesh, she saw all with the eyes of her imagination. -She was on the point of crying out, but suddenly checked herself, -fearful of rousing the watchman and setting afoot a pursuit which, -if successful, might be attended by direst consequences for Holles. -And it was only that same dread that lent her strength to repress the -instinctive impulse to call him back and arrest that flight of his. - -Then she steadied herself. After all, it was possible that she was -at fault, that she was the victim of her own imaginings, that her -overwrought senses had played a trick upon her. But the doubt was -unbearable. She must make sure at once. With trembling, fumbling -fingers she kindled a light. Then with a rug wrapped about her over her -night-rail, she made her way below. Thus she descended the stairs for -the first time, and as she went she blamed herself bitterly--in her -conviction that she would find things as she feared--for not having -earlier taken this step and gone to seek him who remained so obdurately -absent. - -When on the following morning an anxious Mrs. Dallows entered the -dining-room in fearful quest of her charge, she found her there, at -once to her infinite relief and infinite distress. In her night-rail, -the rug fallen from her bare shoulders, Nancy sat on the daybed under -the open window. She was pale and dry-eyed, but with such pain and -misery stamped upon her face that the sight of tears would have been -comforting by contrast. Beside her was a candlestick in which the -single candle had been burnt to the socket, about her the floor was -strewn with the sheets of Holles’s letter, which had slipped from her -nerveless fingers. - -That letter had accomplished all that Holles could have hoped from -it. It had quenched completely and finally any lingering embers of -her scorn. It had aroused compassion, and the old love, and finally -despair. For by his own act he was deliberately lost to her again. He -was gone, irrevocably, as he announced, and by the very manner of his -going had made himself an outlaw. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -HOME - - -Out of concern for her charge, Mrs. Dallows at once dispatched the -watchman for Dr. Beamish, and, when the physician arrived some little -while later, she acquainted him with the Colonel’s evasion and the -consequent partially stunned condition in which Miss Sylvester appeared -to move. - -The good doctor, who had come to conceive some measure of affection for -those two, rooted, perhaps, in a certain pity which their mysterious, -but obviously unhappy, relations aroused in him, went at once in -deepest distress to seek Miss Sylvester, who had meanwhile returned to -her own room above-stairs. He found her affliction the more distressing -to observe by virtue of her unnatural composure. - -“This is terrible, my dear,” he said, as he took her hands. “What can -have driven that unhappy man to so ... so unfortunate a course?” - -“He must be sought. You will order search to be made for him?” she -cried. - -He sighed and sorrowfully shook his head: “There is no need for me to -order that. My duty compels me to make his evasion known. Search for -him will follow; but, should he be found, it may go very hard with him; -there are rigorous penalties.” - -Thus, unavoidably, Dr. Beamish but added a fresh burden to her already -surcharged heart. It reduced her to a state of mind bordering upon -distraction. She knew not what to desire. Unless he were sought and -found, it followed that she would never see him again, whilst if he -were found he would have to reckon with the severity of the law, and -she could have no assurance that she would see him even then. - -Out of his anxiety to help her, Dr. Beamish invited her confidence. He -conceived here a case of stupid, headstrong, human pride against which -two hearts were likely to be broken, and, because of that affection -which they had come to inspire in him, he would have done all in his -power to assist them could he but have obtained an indication of the -way. But Miss Sylvester, greatly as it would have eased her sorrow to -have confided in him, greatly as she desired to do so, found that no -confidence was possible without divulging the thing that Holles had -done, the hideous act by which she came to find herself in this house. -A sudden sense of loyalty to him made it impossible for her to publish -his infamy. - -So, rejecting the chance to ease by confidence the burden that she -carried, she continued to move, white-faced and listless, under the -load of it during the two remaining days of her detention. Nor did -the doctor come to her again until that third morning, when he was -once more accompanied by the examiner, who presented her and her -nurse-keeper each with a certificate of health that permitted their -free departure. Holles, she was then informed, had not yet been found; -but she knew not whether to rejoice or sorrow in that fact. - -Bearers were procured for her, the watchman himself volunteering to act -as one of them, and the chair in which she had been carried thither, -which had been bestowed in the house itself, was brought forth again at -her request, to carry her away. - -“But whither are you going?” the doctor questioned her in solicitude. - -They were standing in the doorway of the house, she with her light -hooded mantle of blue taffetas drawn over her white gown, the chair -standing in the sunlight, waiting to receive her. - -“Why, home. Back to my own lodging,” she answered simply. - -“Home?” he echoed, in amazement. “But ... but, then ... this house?” - -She looked at him as if puzzled by his astonishment. Then she smiled -wanly. “This house is not mine. I was here by ... by chance when I was -taken ill.” - -The belated revelation of that unsuspected circumstance filled him with -a sudden dread on her behalf. Knowing the changes that had come upon -that unfortunate City in the month that was overpast, knowing how many -were the abandoned houses that stood open now to the winds of heaven, -he feared with reason that hers might be one of these, or, at least, -that the odds were all against her finding her home, as she imagined, -in the condition in which she had left it. - -“Where is your lodging?” he asked her. - -She told him, adding that upon arrival there she would determine her -future movements. She thought, she ended, that she would seek awhile -the peace and quiet of the country. Perhaps she would return to London -when this visitation was at an end; perhaps she would not. That was -what she said. What she meant was really something very different. - -The announcement served to increase his dismay on her behalf. It was -easier now-a-days to project withdrawal into the country than to -accomplish it unless one commanded unusual power and wealth--and all -those who commanded these things had long since gone. The wholesale -flight from London that had taken place since she was stricken down -had been checked at last by two factors. There was no country town or -village for many and many a mile that would receive fugitives from -London, out of dread of the infection which these might carry. To repel -them the inhabitants of rural districts had even had recourse to arms, -until, partly because of this and to avoid disturbances and bloodshed, -partly as an heroic measure against the spread of the plague throughout -England, the Lord Mayor had been constrained to suspend the issue of -certificates of health, without which no man could depart from London. -Those who still remained in the infected area--where the plague was -taking now a weekly toll of thousands of lives--must abandon all hope -of quitting it until the pestilence should have subsided. - -Considering now her case and weighing what she had told him, Dr. -Beamish perceived that her need of him was far from being at an end. -Practical and spiritual assistance might be as necessary to her -presently as had lately been his physician’s ministrations. - -“Come,” he said abruptly, “I will go with you to your lodging, and see -you safely bestowed there--that is, if you permit it.” - -“Permit it? Oh, my friend!” She held out her hand to him. “Shall I -permit you to do me this last kindness? I shall be more grateful than -ever I could hope to tell you.” - -He smiled through his owlish spectacles, and in silence patted the -little hand he held; then he made shift to lead her forward to her -chair. - -But a duty yet remained her. In the shadows of the hall behind lingered -still the kindly Mrs. Dallows, almost tearful at this parting from -the sweet charge for whom she had conceived so great a kindness. Miss -Sylvester ran back to her. - -“Keep this in memory of one who will never forget her debt to you and -never cease to think of you fondly.” Into her hand she pressed a clasp -of brilliants that she had taken from her bodice--a thing of price far -beyond the gold that Holles had left behind in payment for the nurse’s -services. Then, as Mrs. Dallows began at one and the same time to thank -her and to protest against this excessive munificence, Nancy took the -kindly woman in her arms and kissed her. Both were in tears when Nancy -turned away and ran out to the waiting sedan. - -The bearers--the watchman, and the fellow he had fetched to assist -him--took up the chair and swung away towards Paul’s Chains. The little -black figure of the doctor strutted beside it, swinging the long red -wand that did him the office of a cane, whilst Mrs. Dallows, standing -at the door of the house in Knight Ryder Street, watched it out of -sight through a blur of tears. - -And within the chair Miss Sylvester, too, was giving way at last to -tears. They were the first she had shed since she had received the -Colonel’s letter, which letter was the only thing she carried away -with her from that ill-starred house. Lost thus to consciousness of -her surroundings, she took no heed of the emptiness and silence of the -streets, and of the general air of furtiveness and desolation that hung -about the few wayfarers upon whom they chanced and that marked the very -houses they were passing. - -Thus at last they came to Salisbury Court and to the house that Nancy -had indicated. And here at once Dr. Beamish saw that his worst fears -were realized. - -Its door hung wide, and the dust lay thick upon the window-panes, -two of which were broken. Miss Sylvester, having alighted from her -chair, stood looking up, arrested by the unusual aspect of the place, -and chilled by a nameless dismay. In awe-stricken wonder, she looked -round the court, utterly untenanted, and presenting everywhere the -same forsaken aspect. From behind a dusty window of a house across the -way, whose door was marked and locked and guarded, an aged yellow face -revealed itself, and a pair of eyes that seemed malignant in their -furtiveness were watching her. Beyond that ill-omened visage there was -in all the court no single sign of life. - -“What does it mean?” she asked the doctor. - -Sadly he shook his head. “Can you not guess? Here as elsewhere the -plague and the fear of the plague have been busy in your absence.” He -sighed, and added abruptly: “Let us go in.” - -They entered the gloomy vestibule, where dried leaves swept thither by -the winds crackled under their feet, and thence they began the ascent -of a narrow staircase on the baluster of which there was a mantle of -dust. Miss Sylvester called out once or twice as they advanced. But -there was no answer to those calls other than the hollow echoes they -awoke in that untenanted house. - -The three rooms that had composed her home were situated on the first -floor, and as they ascended to the landing they saw the three doors -standing open. Two of the chambers were shuttered, and, therefore, in -darkness; but the drawing-room, which directly faced the stair-head, -was all in sunlight, and even before they entered it they had a -picture of the devastation wrought there. The furniture was not merely -disarranged; it was rudely tumbled, some of it broken, and some was -missing altogether. Drawers hung open, as they had been pulled by -thieving hands, and that part of their contents which had not been -considered worth removing now strewed the floor. A glass cabinet -which had stood in one angle lay tumbled forward and shattered into -fragments. The _secrétaire_ stood open, its lock broken, its contents -rifled, a litter of papers tossed upon and about it. The curtains, -torn from their poles--one of which hung broken across a window--had -disappeared, as had an Eastern rug that had covered a portion of the -floor. - -Dr. Beamish and the lady stood in silence just within the doorway for -a long moment, contemplating that dreadful havoc. Then Miss Sylvester -moved swiftly forward to the _secrétaire_, in an inner drawer of -which she had left a considerable sum of money--representing most of -her immediate resources. That inner drawer had been wrenched open; the -money was gone. - -She turned and looked at Dr. Beamish, her face piteous in its white -dismay. She tried to speak, but her lip trembled, and her eyes filled -again with tears. To have endured so much, and to come home to this! - -The doctor started forward in answer to the pitiful appeal of that -glance. He advanced a chair that happened to be whole, and urged her -to sit down and rest, as if the rest she needed were merely physical. -She obeyed him, and with hands folded in her lap she sat there looking -helplessly around upon the wreckage of her home. - -“What am I to do? Where am I to turn?” she asked, and almost at once -supplied the answer: “I had better go from this accursed place at once. -I have an old aunt living in Charmouth. I will return to her.” - -She had also, she added, certain moneys in the hands of a banker near -Charing Cross. Once she should have withdrawn these there would be -nothing to keep her in London. She rose on the announcement as if there -and then to act upon it. But the doctor gently restrained her, gently -revealed to her the full helplessness of her position which was more -overwhelming even than she supposed. - -It must be almost certain that the banker she named would temporarily -have suspended business and withdrawn himself from a place in which -panic and confusion had made an end of commerce for the present. But -even if he should still be at his counting-house and able at once to -supply her demands, such a journey into the country as she contemplated -was almost utterly impossible. True, the accident of her having had the -plague had supplied her with a certificate of health, and in view of -this no one could hinder her departure. But, considering whence she -came, it would be with difficulty that out of London she would find any -one to give her shelter; most likely, indeed, that she would be driven -back by sheer necessity if not by force before she had gone farther -than a day’s journey. - -The realization of this unsuspected thing, that she was doomed to -imprisonment in this dreadful city which seemed abandoned alike by God -and man, inhabited only by the unfortunate and the unclean, a city of -dead and dying, drove her almost to the uttermost limits of despair. - -For a while she was half stunned and silent. Then speech came from her -wild and frantic. - -“What then? What then remains? What am I to do? How live? O God, if -only I had perished of the plague! I see now ... I see that the worst -wrong Randal Holles ever did me was when he saved my miserable life.” - -“Hush, hush! What are you saying, child?” The doctor set a comforting -arm about her shoulders. “You are not utterly alone,” he assured her -gently. “I am still here, to serve you, my dear, and I am your friend.” - -“Forgive me,” she begged him. - -He patted her shoulder. “I understand. I understand. It is very hard -for you, I know. But you must have courage. While we have health and -strength, no ill of life is beyond repair. I am old, my dear; and I -know. Let us consider now your case.” - -“My friend, it is beyond considerations. Who can help me now?” - -“I can, for one; that is my intention.” - -“But in what way?” - -“Why, in several ways at need. But first I can show you how you may -help yourself.” - -“Help myself?” She looked up at him, frowning a little in her -mystification. - -“It is in helping others that we best help ourselves,” he explained. -“Who labours but for himself achieves a barren life, is like the -unfaithful steward with his talents. Happiness lies in labouring for -your neighbour. It is a twofold happiness. For it brings its own reward -in the satisfaction of achievement, in the joy of accomplishment; -and it brings another in that, bending our thoughts to the needs and -afflictions of our fellows, it removes them from the contemplation of -the afflictions that are our own.” - -“Yes, yes. But how does it lie in my power now to do this?” - -“In several ways, my dear. I will tell you of one. By God’s mercy and -the loving heroism of a fellow-creature you have been cured of the -plague, and by that cure you have been rendered what is commonly known -as a ‘safe woman’--a person immune from infection who may move without -fear among those who suffer from the pestilence. Nurse-keepers are -very difficult to find, and daily their diminishing numbers grow less -equal to the ever-increasing work that this sad visitation provides. -Many of them are noble, self-sacrificing women who, without even such -guarantees of immunity as you now possess, go heroically among the -sufferers, and some of these--alas!--are constantly succumbing.” He -paused, peering at her shortsightedly through his spectacles. - -She looked up at him in round-eyed amusement. - -“And you are suggesting that I....” She broke off, a little appalled by -the prospect opened out to her. - -“You might do it because you conceive it to be a debt you owe to God -and your fellow-creatures for your own preservation. Or you might do it -so that, in seeking to heal the afflictions of others, you may succeed -in healing your own. But, however you did it, it would be a noble act, -and would surely not go unrewarded.” - -She rose slowly, her brows bent in thought. Then she uttered a little -laugh of self-pity. “And unless I do that, what else, indeed, am I to -do?” she asked. - -“Nay, nay,” he made haste to reassure her. “I do not wish to force you -into any course against your will. If the task is repugnant to you--and -I can well understand that it might be--do not imagine that I shall on -that account forsake you. I will not leave you helpless and alone. Be -sure of that.” - -She looked at him, and smiled a little. - -“It is repugnant, of course,” she confessed frankly. “How should it -be otherwise? I have lived soft and self-indulgently from childhood. -Therefore, if I do this thing, perhaps it will on that account be more -acceptable in the eyes of Heaven. As you say, it is a debt I owe.” She -put out a hand and took his arm. “I am ready, my friend, to set about -discharging it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE DEAD-CART - - -Had you asked Colonel Holles in after-life how he had spent the week -that followed immediately upon his escape from the house in Knight -Ryder Street, he could have supplied you with only the vaguest and most -incomplete of accounts. His memories were a confused jumble, from which -only certain facts detached themselves with any degree of sharpness. -The ugly truth, which must be told, is that in all that week he was -hardly ever entirely sober. The thing began on the very night--or, -rather, morning--of his evasion. - -Without definite destination, or even aim beyond that of putting as -great a distance as possible between himself and Knight Ryder Street, -Holles came by way of Carter Lane into Paul’s Yard. There he hung a -moment hesitating--for a man may well hesitate when all directions are -as one to him; then he struck eastward, down Watling Street, finally -plunging into the labyrinth of narrow alleys to the north of it. Here -he might have wandered until broad daylight, but that, lost in the -heart of that dædal, he was drawn by sounds of revelry to a narrow -door, from under which a blade of light was stretched across the -cobbles of the street. - -It was the oddness of those sounds, as incongruous in this -plague-stricken London as if they had issued from the bowels of a -sepulchre, that gave him pause. On that mean threshold he stood -hesitating, peering up at the sign, which he could just discern to -be in the shape of a flagon, whence he must have concluded, had -other evidences been lacking, that the place was a tavern. Further -he concluded, from his knowledge of the enactment by which all such -resorts were to close to custom at nine o’clock, that here a breach of -the law was being flagrantly committed. - -Attracted, on the one hand, by the thought of the oblivion that -might be purchased within, repelled, on the other, by the obviously -disreputable character of the place and by a curious sense of the -increased scorn he must evoke in Nancy’s mind could she witness his -weak surrender to so foul a temptation, he ended by deciding to pass -on. But, even as he turned to do so, the door was suddenly pulled open, -and across the street was flung a great shaft of yellow light in which -he stood revealed. Two drunken roisterers, lurching forth, paused a -moment, surprised, at the sight of him, arrested there. Then, with -drunken inconsequence, they fell upon him, took him each by an arm, and -dragged him, weakly resisting, over the threshold of that unclean den, -amid shouts of insensate, hilarious welcome from its inhabitants. - -Holles stood there in the glare and stench of a half-dozen fish-oil -lamps suspended from the beams of the low, grimy ceiling, blinking like -an owl, whilst the taverner, vehemently cursing the fools who had left -his door agape, made haste to close it again, shutting out as far as -possible sight and sound of this transgression of the recent rigorous -laws. - -When presently the Colonel’s eyes had grown accustomed to the light, he -took stock of his surroundings. He found himself in a motley gathering -of evil-looking, raffish men, and no less evil-looking women. In all -there may have been some thirty of them huddled there together in that -comparatively restricted space. The men were rufflers and foists and -worse; the women were trulls of various degrees, with raddled cheeks -and glittering eyes. Some were maudlin, some hilarious, and some lay -helpless and inert as logs. All of them had been drinking to excess, -save, perhaps, some four or five who were gathered about a table -apart, snarling over a pack of greasy cards. They were men and women -of the underworld, whom circumstances, and the fact that no further -certificates of health were being issued, confined to the plague-ridden -city; and, in an excess of the habits of debauch that were usual to -them, they took this means of cheating for a brief while the terror in -which normally they lived and moved in that stronghold of death. It was -a gathering typical of many that Asmodeus might have discovered had he -troubled on any of those August nights to lift the roofs of London’s -houses. - -Holles surveyed them with cold disgust, whilst they stared -questioningly back at him. They had fallen silent now, all save one -who, maudlin, in a corner, persisted in continuing an obscene song with -which he had been regaling the company when the Colonel entered. - -“Gads my life!” said Holles, at length. “But that I am told the Court -has gone to Salisbury, I might suppose myself in Whitehall.” - -The double-edged gibe shook them into an explosion of laughter. They -acclaimed him for a wit, and proceeded to pronounce him free of their -disreputable company, whilst the two topers who had lugged him in from -the open dragged him now to one of the tables where room was readily -made for him. He yielded to the inevitable. He had a few pieces in -his pocket, and he spent one of these on burnt sack before that wild -company broke up, and its members crept to their homes, like rats to -their burrows, in the pale light of dawn. - -Thereafter he hired a bed from the vintner, and slept until close -upon noon. Having broken his fast upon a dish of salt herrings, he -wandered forth again, errant and aimless. He won through a succession -of narrow, unclean alleys into the eastern end of Cheapside, and stood -there, aghast to survey the change that the month had wrought. In that -thoroughfare, usually the busiest in London, he found emptiness and -silence. Where all had been life and bustle, a continual stream of -coaches and chairs of wayfarers on foot and on horseback, of merchants -and prentices at the shop doors with their incessant cries of “What -d’ye lack?” and clamorous invitations to view the wares and bargains -that they offered, the street from end to end was now empty of all but -some half-dozen stragglers like himself, and one who with averted head -was pushing a wheelbarrow whose grim load was covered by a cloak. - -Not a coach, not a chair, not a horse in sight, and not a merchant’s -voice to be heard; not even a beggar’s whine. Here and there a shop -stood open, but where there were no buyers there was no eagerness to -sell. Some few houses he beheld close-shuttered and padlocked, each -marked with the red cross and guarded by its armed watchman; one or two -others he observed to stand open and derelict. Last of all, but perhaps -most awe-inspiring, as being the most eloquent witness to the general -desolation, he saw that blades of grass were sprouting between the -kidney stones with which the street was paved, so that, but for those -lines of houses standing so grim and silent on either side, he could -never have supposed himself to be standing in a city thoroughfare. - -He turned up towards St. Paul’s, his steps echoing in the noontide -through the empty street as echo at midnight the steps of some belated -reveller. - -It were unprofitable further to follow him in those aimless wanderings, -in which he spent that day and the days that followed. Once he made -an excursion as far as Whitehall, to assure himself that His Grace of -Buckingham was, indeed, gone from Town, as Dr. Beamish had informed -him. He went spurred by the desire to vent a sense of wrong that came -to the surface of his sodden wits like oil to the surface of water. -But he found the gates of Wallingford House closed and its windows -tight-shuttered, as were by then practically all the windows that -overlooked that forsaken courtly thoroughfare. - -Albemarle, he learnt from a stray sailor with whom he talked, was -still at the Cockpit. True to his character, Honest George Monk -remained grimly at his post unmoved by danger; indeed, going freely -abroad in utter contempt of it, engrossed in the charitable task of -doing whatever a man in his position could do to mitigate the general -suffering. - -Holles was tempted to seek him. But the temptation was not very strong -upon him, and he withstood it. Such a visit would but waste the time of -a man who had no time to waste; therefore, Albemarle was hardly likely -to give him a welcome. - -His nights were invariably spent at the sign of the Flagon in that -dismal alley off Watling Street into which merest chance had led him -in the first instance. What attraction the place could have held for -him he would afterwards have found it difficult to define. There is -little doubt that it was just his loneliness that impelled thither his -desire for the only society that he knew to be available, a company of -human beings in similar case to himself, who sought in the nepenthes -of the wine-cup and in riotous debauch a temporary oblivion of their -misery and desolation. Low though he might previously have come, -neither was this the resort nor were the thieves and harlots by whom -it was frequented the associates that he would ordinarily have chosen. -Fortune, whose sport he had ever been, had flung him among these human -derelicts; and there he continued, since the place afforded him the -only thing he craved until death should--as he hoped--bring him final -peace. - -The end came abruptly. One night--the seventh that he spent in that -lewd haunt of recklessness--he drank more deeply even than his deep -habit. As a consequence, when, at the host’s bidding, he lurched -out into the dark alley, the last of all those roisterers to depart, -his wits were drugged to the point of insensibility. He moved like -an automaton, on legs that mechanically performed their function. -Staggering under him, they bore his swaying body in long lurches down -the lane, until he must have looked like some flimsy simulacrum of a -man with which the wind made sport. - -Without apprehension or care of the direction in which he was moving, -he came into Watling Street, crossed it, plunged into a narrow alley -on the southern side, and reeled blindly onward until his feet struck -an obstacle in their unconscious path. He pitched over it, and fell -forward heavily upon his face. Lacking the will and the strength to -rise again, he lay where he had fallen, and sank there into a lethargic -sleep. - -A half-hour passed. It was the half-hour immediately before the dawn. -Came a bell tinkling in the distance. Slowly it drew nearer, and a -cry repeated at intervals might have been audible and intelligible to -Holles had he been conscious. Soon to these were added other sounds: -the melancholy creak of an axle that required greasing, and the slow -clank and thud of hooves upon the cobbles. Nearer rang the cry upon the -silent night: - -“Bring out your dead!” - -The vehicle halted at the mouth of the alley in which the Colonel lay, -and a man advanced, holding a flaming link above his head so as to cast -its ruddy glare hither and thither to search the dark corners of that -by-way. - -This man beheld two bodies stretched upon the ground: the Colonel’s and -the one over which the Colonel had stumbled. He shouted something over -his shoulder and advanced again. He was followed a moment later by the -cart, conducted by his fellow, who walked at the horse’s head, pulling -at a short pipe. - -Whilst he who held the torch stood there to light the other in his -work, his companion stooped and rolled over the first body, then -stepped forward, and did the same by Colonel Holles. The Colonel’s -countenance was as livid as that of the corpse that had tripped him up, -and he scarcely seemed to breathe. They bestowed no more than a glance -upon him with the terrible callous indifference that constant habit -will bring to almost any task, and then returned to the other. - -The man with the link thrust this into a holder attached to the -front of the dead-cart. Then the two of them on their knees made an -examination of the body, or rather of such garments as were upon it. - -“Not much to trouble over here, Larry,” said one. - -“Aye,” growled Larry. “They’re sorry enough duds. Come on, Nick. Let’s -heave her aboard.” - -They rose, took down their hooks, and seizing the body by them they -swung it up into the vehicle. - -“Fetch the prancer nearer,” said Nick, as he turned and stepped towards -Holles. The horse was led forward some few paces, so that the light -from the cart now fell more fully upon the Colonel’s long supine figure. - -Nick went down on one knee beside him, and uttered a grunt of -satisfaction. “This is better.” - -His fellow came to peer over his shoulder. - -“A gentry-cove, damme!” he swore with horrible satisfaction. Their -practised ghoulish fingers went swiftly over Holles, and they chuckled -obscenely at sight of the half-dozen gold pieces displayed in Larry’s -filthy paw. - -“Not much else,” grumbled one after a further inspection. - -“There’s his sword--a rich hilt; look, Larry.” - -“And there’s a fine pair o’ stampers,” said Larry, who was already busy -about the Colonel’s feet. “Lend a hand, Nick.” - -They pulled the boots off and made a bundle of them, together with -the Colonel’s hat and cloak. This bundle Larry dropped into a basket -that hung behind the cart, whilst Nick remained to strip Holles of his -doublet. Suddenly he paused. - -“He’s still warm, Larry,” he said querulously. - -Larry approached, pulling at his pipe. He growled a lewd oath, -expressive of contempt and indifference. - -“What odds?” he added cynically. “He’ll be cold enough or ever we comes -to Aldgate.” And he laughed as he took the doublet Nick flung to him. - -The next moment their filthy hooks were in the garments they had left -upon Holles, and they had added him to the terrible load that already -half-filled their cart. - -They backed the vehicle out of the alley, and then trundled on, going -eastward, their destination being the pit at Aldgate. Ever and anon -in their slow progress they would halt either at the summons of a -watchman or at what they found for themselves. At every halt they -made an addition to their load which they bore away for peremptory -burial in that Aldgate plague-pit, above which on these hot nights -the corpse-candles flickered almost constantly to increase the tale -of portents and to scare the credulous into the belief that the place -was haunted by the souls of those unfortunates whose bodies lay -irreverently tumbled there under the loosely shovelled clay. - -They were already approaching their destination, and the first light -of dawn, pallid, cold, and colourless as a moonstone, was beginning to -dispel the darkness, when, be it from the jolting of the cart, or from -the flow of blood where one of those foul hooks had scraped his thigh, -or yet from preserving Nature, quickening his wits that he might save -himself from suffocation, the Colonel was aroused from his drunken -trance. - -He awakened, thrusting fiercely for air, and seeking to dislodge a -heavy mass that lay across his face. The efforts that at first he made -were but feeble, as was to be expected from one in his condition; so -that he gained no more than brief respites, in each of which, like a -drowning man struggling repeatedly to the surface, he gasped a breath -of that foul contamination about him. But finding each effort succeeded -by a suffocation that became ever more painful, a sort of terror seized -upon him, and pulled his senses out of their drunken torpor. He braced -himself and heaved more strenuously, until at length he won clear, so -far, at least, as his head was concerned. - -He saw the paling stars above and was able at last to breathe freely -and without effort. But the burden which he had succeeded in thrusting -from his head, now lay across his breast, and the weight of it was -troublesome and painful. He put forth a hand, and realizing by the -sense of touch that what he grasped was a human arm, he shook it -vigorously. Eliciting no response, he began to grow angry. - -“Afoot there, ye drunken lob,” he growled in a thick voice. “Get up, I -say. Get up! O’s my life! D’ye take me for a bed that you put yourself -to sleep across me? Gerrup!” he roared, his anger increasing before -that continued lack of response. “Gerrup, or I’ll....” - -He ceased abruptly, blinking in the glare of light that suddenly struck -across his eyes from the flaming head of the torch which had been -thrust upwards. The cart had come to a standstill, and above the tall -sides of it, rising into his field of vision, came the two horrible -figures of the carters, whom the sound of his voice had brought to -mount the wheels of the vehicle. - -There was something so foul and infernal in those faces, as seen there -in the ruddy glare of the torch, that the sight of them brought the -Colonel a stage nearer to sobriety. He struggled up into a sitting -position, and looked about him, bewildered, uneasy, furiously -endeavoring to conjecture where he might be. - -In plaintive impatience came the nasal voice of one of those ghouls. - -“I told ye the gentry-cove was warm, Larry.” - -“Aye! Well? And what now?” quoth the other querulously. - -“Why, fling him out, o’ course.” - -“Bah! Let him ride. If he’s not stiff yet, he soon will be. What’s the -odds?” - -“And what o’ the plague examiner, you fool? Won’t he see that it’s just -a drunken cove who was sleeping off his booze? And what’ll he say to -us? Here! Lend a hand! Let’s get him out.” - -But Holles was no longer in need of their assistance. Their words and -what he saw of that grim load of which he was a part had made him -realize at last his ghastly situation. The sheer horror of it not only -sobered him completely; it lent him a more than ordinary strength. He -heaved himself clear, and struggled, gasping, to his knees. Thence he -gripped the side of the cart, pulled himself to his feet, flung a leg -over and leapt down, stumbling as he did so, and sprawling full length -upon the ground. - -By the time he had gathered himself up, the cart was already trundling -on again, and the peals of hoarse, obscene laughter from the carters -were ringing hideously through the silent street. - -Holles fled from the sound, back by the way that he had been carried, -and it was not until he had gone some distance, not until the foul -hilarity of the carters and the clatter of the accursed cart itself had -faded out of earshot, that he began to grow conscious of his condition. -He was without cloak or hat or doublet or boots. The fact that his -sword was gone, as well as the little money that still remained him, -seemed to him just then to matter rather less. What chiefly troubled -him was that he was cold and dizzy. He shivered every now and then as -with an ague; his head was a globe of pain and his senses reeled. Yet -he was sober, he assured himself. He could think coherently, and he was -able to piece together, not only the thing that had happened to him, -but the very manner of its happening. - -Mechanically he trudged on and on, aimlessly now, a man walking in a -nightmare. The light grew. The moonstone light of early dawn took on -colour and began to glow as with the fires of the opal; the sky was -invaded and suffused by the saffron heralds of the sun. - -At last he paused, without knowledge or care of where he was; utterly -bereft of strength, he sank presently into the shelter of the doorway -of a deserted house, and there fell asleep. - -When next he awakened, he was lying in the full glare of a sun that was -already high in the heavens. He looked about him, and found himself in -surroundings that were utterly strange to him, so that he could form no -notion of whither he had strayed. - -In mid-street stood a man in a steeple hat dressed in black, leaning -upon a red wand and regarding him attentively. - -“What ails you?” the man asked him, seeing him awake and conscious. - -Disgruntled, Holles glared at him. “The sight of you,” he snapped, and -struggled stiffly up. “Naught else.” - -Yet, even as he gained his feet, a giddiness assailed him. He steadied -himself a moment against the door-post: then reeled and sank down again -upon the step that had been his couch. For some few seconds he sat -there bemused, marvelling at his condition. Then, acting on a sudden -thought, he tore open the breast of his shirt. - -“I lied!” he shouted wildly. When next he looked up, he was laughing, a -ringing, exultant laugh. “I lied! There is something else. Look!” And -he pulled his shirt wider apart, so that the man might see what he had -found. And that was the last thing that he remembered. - -On his breast the flower of the plague had blossomed while he slept. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE PEST-HOUSE - - -There ensued for Colonel Holles on some plane other than that of -mundane life a period of fevered activity, of dread encounters and -terrible combats, of continual strife with a relentless opponent -dressed in black and white satin who wore the countenance of His Grace -of Buckingham and who was ever on the point of slaying him, yet, -being unmerciful, never slayed. These combats usually took place in a -sombre panelled room by the light of a cluster of candles in a silver -branch, and they had for witness a white-clad, white-faced woman with -long blue-green eyes and heavy chestnut hair, who laughed in glee and -clapped her hands at each fresh turn of the encounter. Sometimes, -however, the battle-ground was a cherry orchard, sometimes the humble -interior of a yeoman’s cottage in the neighbourhood of Worcester. But -the actors were ever the same three. - -The fact is that Holles lived in a world of delirium, whence at last -he awakened one day to sanity--awakened to die, as he thought, when he -had taken stock of his surroundings and realized them by the aid of the -memories he assembled of his last waking conscious hours. - -He found himself lying on a pallet, near a window, through which he had -a glimpse of foliage and of a strip of indigo sky. Directly overhead -were the bare rafters of a roof that knew no ceiling. He turned his -head on his pillow and looked away to his left, down a long barnlike -room in which stood a half-dozen such pallets as his own, and upon each -a sufferer like himself. One or two of them lay inert, as if in death; -the others tossed and moaned, whilst one, still more violent, was -struggling fiercely with his keepers. - -It was not a pleasant sight for a man in his condition, so he rolled -his head back to its first position, and thus returned to the -contemplation of that strip of sky. A great calm settled upon the -soul that clung to his fever-wasted body. He understood his situation -perfectly. He was stricken with the plague, and he was vouchsafed this -interval of consciousness--the consciousness, perhaps, that is the -herald of dissolution--in order that he might return thanks to God that -at last the sands of his miserable life were run and peace awaited him. -The very contemplation of this sufficed to blot out at last the shame -that could never in life have left him, the haunting spectre of the -loathing he must have inspired in her against whom he had so grossly -sinned. He remembered that full confession he had left for her. And it -was sweet to reflect, before passing out into the cold shadows, that -its perusal, revealing all that had gone to make an utter villain of -him, showing how Fate had placed him between the hammer and the anvil, -might mitigate the contempt in which inevitably she must have held him. - -Tears gathered in his eyes, and rolled down his wasted cheeks. They -were tears at once of physical weakness and of thanksgiving, rather -than of self-pity. - -Steps were softly approaching his bedside. Some one was leaning over -him. He turned his head once more and looked up. And then a great -fear took possession of him, so that for a moment his heart seemed to -contract. Aloud, he explained to himself that apparition. - -“I am at my dreams again!” he complained in a whisper. - -At his bedside stood a woman, young and comely in the grey homespun, -with the white bands and bib and coif that made up the garb of -Puritans. Her face was small and pale and oval, her eyes were long, of -a colour between blue and green, very wistful now in their expression, -and from under the wings of her coif escaped one or two heavy chestnut -curls, to lie upon her white neck. A fine cool hand sought his own -where it lay upon the coverlet, a voice that was full of soft, sad -music answered him. - -“Nay, Randal. You are awake at last--thank God!” - -And now he saw that those long wistful eyes were aswim in tears. - -“Where am I, then?” he asked, in his first real bewilderment since -awakening. Almost he began to imagine that he must have dreamt all -those things which he had deemed actual memories of a time that had -preceded his delirium. - -“In the pest-house in Bunhill Fields,” she told him, which only served -to increase the confusion in his mind. - -“That is ... I can understand that. I have the plague, I know. I -remember being stricken with it. But you? How come you here ... in a -pest-house?” - -“There was nowhere else for me to go, after ... after I left that -house in Knight Ryder Street.” And very briefly she explained the -circumstances. “So Dr. Beamish brought me here. And here I have been by -the blessing of Providence,” she ended, “tending the poor victims of -the plague.” - -“And you tended me? You?” Incredulous amazement lent strength to his -enfeebled voice. - -“Did not you tend me?” she answered him. - -He made a gesture of repudiation with one of his hands, grown so pale -and thin. Then he sighed and smiled contentedly. - -“God is very good to me a sinner. As I lay here now all that I craved -was that you, knowing the full truth of my villainy, of the temptation -by which I fell, should speak a little word of pity and forgiveness to -me to ... to make my dying easier.” - -“Your dying? Why do you talk of death?” - -“Because it comes, by the mercy of God. To die of the plague is what -I most deserve. I sought it and it fled before me. Yet in the end I -stumbled upon it by chance. All my life is it thus that things have -come to me. That which I desire and pursue eludes me. When I cease the -pursuit, it turns and takes me unawares. In all things have I been the -sport of Fortune; even in my dying, as it seems.” - -She would have interrupted, but he hurried on, deceived by his own -weakness. - -“Listen a moment yet, lest I go before I have said what is yet to add -to the letter that I left for you. I swear, by my last feeble hope -of heaven, that I did not know it was you I was to carry off, else I -had gone to the hangman before ever I had lent myself to the Duke’s -business. You believe me?” - -“There is no need for your assurances, Randal. I never doubted that. -How could I?” - -“How could you? Aye, that is true. You could not. So much, at least, -would not have been possible, however I might have fallen.” Then he -looked at her with piteous eyes. “I scarce dare hope that you’ll -forgive me all....” - -“But I do, Randal. I do. I have long since forgiven you. I gave you my -forgiveness and my gratitude when I knew what you had done for me, how -you risked your life in reparation. If I could forgive you then, can I -harbour resentment now that I know all? I do forgive--freely, utterly, -completely, Randal dear.” - -“Say it again,” he implored her. - -She said it, weeping quietly. - -“Then I am content. What matter all my unrealized dreams of crowned -knight-errantry, all my high-flown ambitions? To this must I have come -in the end. I was a fool not to have taken the quiet good to which I -was born. Then might we have been happy, Nan, and neither of us would -have felt the need to seek the hollow triumphs of the world.” - -“You talk as if you were to die,” she reproved him through her tears. -“But you shall get well again.” - -“That surely were a crowning folly when I may die so happily.” - -And then the doctor supervened to interrupt them, and to confirm -circumstantially her assertion that Holles was now out of danger. - -The truth is that, what he had done for her when she was -plague-stricken, she had now done for him. By unremitting care of him -in the endless hours of his delirium, reckless of how she exhausted -herself in the effort, she had brought him safely through the Valley -of the Shadow, and already, even as he spoke of dying, deluded by his -weakness and the great lassitude that attends exhaustion into believing -that already he stood upon the threshold, his recovery was assured. - -Within less than a week he was afoot, regaining strength, and -pronounced clear of the infection. Yet, before they would suffer -him to depart into the world again, he must undergo the period of -sequestration that the law prescribed, so as to ensure against his -conveying the infection to others. For this he was to be removed from -the pest-house to a neighbouring abode of rest and convalescence. - -When the hour of departure came, he went to take his leave of Nancy. -She awaited him on the lawn under the tall old cedars of Lebanon that -graced the garden of this farm which had been converted to the purposes -of a hospital. Slimly graceful she stood before him, whilst in a voice, -which he laboured to keep steady, he uttered words of an irrevocable -farewell. - -It was very far from what she had been expecting, as he might have read -in the pale dismay that overspread her countenance. - -There was a stone seat near at hand there in the shade, and she -sank limply down upon this whilst he stood beside her awaiting her -dismissal. He was very plainly clad, in garments which she had secretly -caused to be procured for him, but which he supposed to be the parting -gift of the charitable pest-house authorities. - -She controlled herself to ask him steadily: - -“What are you going to do? Where shall you go when ... when the month -is past?” - -He smiled and shrugged a little. “I have not yet considered fully,” -he answered her in actual words, whilst his tone conveyed that he had -neither thought nor care of what might follow. Fortune, it might be -said, had been kind to him; for Fortune had given him back his life -when it was all but lost. But it was the way of Fortune to fool him -with gifts when he could no longer profitably use them. “It may be,” -he added, answering the round stare of her eyes, “that I shall go to -France. There is usually work for a soldier there.” - -She lowered her glance, and for a long moment there was silence. Then -she spoke again, calmly, almost formally, marshalling the points of an -argument that she had well considered. - -“You remember that day when we talked, you and I, in that house in -Knight Ryder Street, just after my recovery? When I would have thanked -you for my life, you rejected my thanks as you rejected the forgiveness -that I offered. You rejected it, persuaded that I was moved only by -gratitude for the life you had saved; that I sought by that forgiveness -to discharge the debt in which you had placed me.” - -“It was so,” he said, “and it is so. It cannot be otherwise.” - -“Can it not? Are you so very sure?” One upward appealing glance she -flashed him as she asked the question. - -“As I am sure that out of your sweet charity you deceive yourself,” he -answered. - -“Do I? Let us say that I did. But if you say that I still do, then you -are overlooking something. I am no longer in your debt. I have paid -it in another and a fuller way. As you saved my life, so have I since -saved yours. I thanked God for the merciful chance to do this, since by -doing it I could wipe out this debt that seemed to stand between us. We -are quits now, Randal. I no longer owe you anything. I have repaid you; -therefore I am no longer under any necessity to be grateful. You cannot -deny that.” - -“I would not if I could.” - -“Then, don’t you see? Without indebtedness between us, no longer under -any obligation to you, I have given you my forgiveness freely, frankly, -and fully. Your offence, after all, was not really against me....” - -“It was, it was,” he interrupted fiercely. “It was against you inasmuch -as it was against my own honour. It made me unworthy.” - -“Even so, you had my complete forgiveness from the moment that I came -to know how cruelly you had been driven. Indeed, I think that I forgave -you earlier, much earlier. My heart told me--my senses told me when you -attempted to rescue me from the Duke of Buckingham--that some such tale -of misfortune must lie behind your deed.” - -A little flush came to stain the pallor which his illness had left upon -his cheeks. He bowed his head. - -“I bless you for those words. They will give me courage to face ... -whatever may await me. I shall treasure the memory of them, and of your -sweetness always.” - -“But still you do not believe me!” she cried out. “Still you think -that behind it all there are some dregs of ... of ... resentment in my -heart!” - -“No, no, Nan. I believe you.” - -“And yet you will persist in going?” - -“What else? You who know all now must see that there is no place for me -in England.” - -There was a ready answer leaping to her lips. But she could not utter -it. At least, not yet. So again she hung her head, and again there -fell a pause, in which she was desperately seeking for another line of -attack upon his obstinately proud humility. Arguments to reason failing -her, she availed herself of an argument to sentiment. She drew from the -bodice of her gown a rubbed and faded tasselled glove. She held it out -to him, looking up at him, and he saw that her eyes were wet. - -“Here is something that belongs to you, at least. Take it, Randal. Take -it, since it is all that you will have of me.” - -Almost in hesitancy he took that little glove, still warm and fragrant -from sweet contact with her, and retained also the hand that proffered -it. - -“It ... it shall again be a talisman,” he said softly, “to keep me -worthy as ... as it did not keep me once.” Then he bowed over the hand -he held, and pressed it to his lips. “Good-bye, and God guard you ever, -Nan.” - -He would have disengaged his hand, but she clutched it firmly now. - -“Randal!” she cried sharply, desperately driven to woo this man who -would not woo her despite her clear invitation. In gentle, sorrowing -rebuke she added: “Can you, then, really think of leaving me again?” - -His face assumed the pallor of death, and his limbs trembled under him. - -“What else is possible?” he asked her miserably. - -“That is a question you had best answer for yourself.” - -“What answer can I supply?” He looked at her, almost fearfully, with -those grey eyes that were normally so steady and could be so hard and -arrogant. He moistened his lips before resuming. “Should I allow you to -gather up these poor shards of my broken life with the hands of pity?” - -“Pity?” she cried in repudiation. Then, shaking her head a little; -“And what if it were so?” she asked. “What then? Oh, Randal, if I have -pity for you, have you then none for me?” - -“Pity for you! I thank God you do not stand in need of pity.” - -“Do I not? What else but pitiful can you account my state? I have -waited years, with what patience and fortitude I could command, for one -to whom I deemed myself to belong, and when at last he arrived, it is -only to reject me.” - -He laughed at that, but without any trace of mirth. - -“Nay, nay,” he said. “I am not so easily deceived by your charitable -pretence. Confess that out of your pity you but act a part.” - -“I see. You think that, having been an actress once, I must be acting -ever. Will you believe me, I wonder, when I swear to you that, in all -those years of weary waiting, I withstood every temptation that besets -my kind, keeping myself spotless against your coming? Will you believe -that? And if you believe it, will you cheat me now?” - -“Believe it! O God! If I did not, perhaps I could now yield more -easily. The gulf between us would be less wide.” - -“There is no gulf between us, Randal. It has been bridged and bridged -again.” - -He disengaged his hand from her clasp at last. “Oh, why do you try me, -Nan?” he cried out, like a man in pain. “God knows you cannot need me. -What have I to offer--I that am as bankrupt of fortune as of honour?” - -“Do women love men for what they bring?” she asked him. “Is that the -lesson a mercenary’s life has taught you? Oh, Randal, you spoke of -Chance and how it had directed all your life, and yet it seems you have -not learnt to read its signs. A world lay between us in which we were -lost to each other. Yet Chance brought us together again, and if the -way of it was evil, yet it was the way of Chance. Again we strayed -apart. You went from me driven by shame and wounded pride--yes, pride, -Randal--intending the separation to be irrevocable. And again we have -come together. Will you weary Chance by demanding that it perform this -miracle for a third time?” - -He looked at her steadily now, a man redeemed, driven back into the -hard ways of honour by the scourge of all that had befallen him. - -“If I have been Chance’s victim all my life, that is no reason why I -should help you to be no better. For you there is the great world, -there is your art, there is life and joy when this pestilence shall -have spent itself. I have nothing to offer you in exchange for all -that. Nothing, Nan. My whole estate is just these poor clothes I stand -in. If it were otherwise.... Oh, but why waste words and torturing -thought on what might be. We have to face what is. Good-bye!” - -Abruptly he swung on his heel, and left her, so abruptly, indeed, that -his departure took her by surprise, found her without a word in which -to stay him. As in a dream she watched the tall, spare, soldierly -figure swinging away through the trees towards the avenue. Then at last -she half rose and a little fluttering cry escaped her. - -“Randal! Randal!” - -But already he was too far to hear her even if, had he heard, he would -have heeded. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -JESTING FORTUNE - - -Jesting Fortune had not yet done with Colonel Holles. - -A month later, towards the middle of September, without having seen -Nancy again--since that, of course, would have been denied him, as -it would have nullified his sequestration from infected persons and -surroundings--he found himself at liberty to return to the ordinary -haunts of man, supplied with a certificate of health. - -He had been considering, in the few days preceding his discharge, -whither he should direct his steps once he were made free of the world -again, and he had returned to that earlier resolve of his to embark as -a hand aboard some vessel bound for France. But a vessel must be found -quickly, for Holles was utterly penniless. He possessed, as he had -reminded Nancy, nothing but the comparatively cheap garments in which -he stood. He might have obtained a few shillings from the pest-house -authorities, but his gorge rose at the thought of seeking charity, -particularly where it would better become him to bestow it, out of -consideration for the benefits received. - -So within an hour of his discharge he found himself tramping along the -empty streets of the City, bound for distant Wapping. He must go afoot, -not only because he lacked the means to go otherwise, but because there -were no longer any boats plying for hire at any of the steps along the -river, nor any hackney-coaches remaining in the streets. More than ever -was London become a city of the dead. - -He trudged on, and everywhere now he beheld great fires of sea-coal -burning in the streets, a sight that puzzled him at first, until a -chance wayfarer informed him that it was done by order of the Lord -Mayor and with the approval of His Grace of Albemarle as a means of -purifying the tainted air. Yet, although these fires had been burning -now for a week, there was no sign yet that they had any such effect as -was desired. Indeed, the bill of mortality in that week had been higher -than ever before, having risen--as that same wayfarer informed him--to -the colossal figure of eight thousand. The marvel was, thought Holles, -that any should still be left to die in London. - -On through that desolate emptiness he tramped in the noontide heat, -which still continued as intense as through the months that were -past of that exceptional summer, until he came to the Fleet Ditch. -Here it was that he bethought him of The Harp in Wood Street where -he had lodged, and of its landlord, the friendly Banks, who at some -risk to himself had warned him that the messengers of the law were on -his heels. It was his utter destitution that now shaped his destiny. -But for that, he might not have remembered that in his precipitate -departure from that hostelry he had left some gear behind including -a fine suit of clothes. He could have no personal use for such brave -raiment now. The homespun in which he stood was better suited far to -one who sought work as a hand aboard a ship. But, if he could recover -that abandoned gear, it was possible that he might be able to convert -it into a modest sum of money to relieve his present necessities. He -laughed a little over the notion of Fortune being so kind to him as to -permit him to find The Harp still open or Banks alive. - -Still, forlorn hope though it might be, forlorn hopes were the only -hopes that remained him. So in the direction of Wood Street he now -turned his steps. - -He found it much as other streets. Not more than one shop in four -was standing open, and trade in these was idle and stagnant. -Proctor’s famous ordinary at the sign of The Mitre--the most reputed -eating-house in London--was closed and shuttered. He regarded this as -an evil omen. But he passed on, and came presently to stand before the -more modest Harp. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw its -windows clean and open, its door flung wide. - -He crossed the threshold, and turned into the common room on his left. -The room was clean-swept, its long deal tables were well scoured; but -trade was slack, for the place contained a single occupant, a man in -an apron who started up from a wooden armchair in which he had been -dozing, with an ejaculation of: - -“As God’s my life, a customer!” - -Holles stared at him and the man stared back at Holles. It was Banks, -the vintner himself. But a Banks whose paunch had shrunk, whose -erstwhile ruddy cheeks had lost their glow and fullness. - -“Colonel Holles!” he cried. “Or is it your ghost, sir? There’s more -ghosts than living men in this stricken city.” - -“We are both ghosts, I think, Banks,” the Colonel answered him. - -“Maybe, but our gullets ain’t ghostly, praise the Lord! And there’s -still some sack left at The Harp. It’s the greatest of all electuaries -is sack, as Dr. Hodges has it. Sack with plenty of nutmeg, says he, and -avoid sweating. And that’s how I’ve kept myself alive. Shall we have a -bottle of the medicine, Colonel?” - -“I’d say yes, with all my heart. But--lackaday!--I’ve not the means to -pay for the sack.” - -“Pay?” The vintner made a lip. “Sit ye down, Colonel.” - -Banks fetched the wine, and poured it. - -“A plague on the plague, is the toast,” said he, and they drank it. -“’Slife, Colonel, but I am glad to see you alive. I feared the worst -for you. Yet you’ve contrived to keep yourself safe, avoiding not only -the plague, but them pestilential fellows that was after you.” Without -waiting for a reply, he dropped his voice to add: “Ye’ll have heard how -Danvers was took, and how he broke away and won free--good luck to him! -But all that is a dream by now, that conspiracy business, and no one -bothers much about it. Not even the government. There’s other things to -engage them, and not much government left neither. But of yourself now, -Colonel?” - -“My tale’s soon told. I’ve not fared quite as well as you suppose. I’ve -had the plague.” - -“The devil you have. And ye’ve won through!” Banks regarded him with a -new respect. “Well, ye were born lucky, sir.” - -“You give me news,” said the Colonel. - -“There isn’t many escapes,” the vintner assured him ruefully. “And you -having had the pestilence makes you a safe man. Ye can come and go as -ye please without uneasiness.” - -“And your sack as an electuary is wasted on me. But if I’m safe I’m -also penniless, which is what has brought me here: to see if some gear -of mine is still in your possession that I may melt it into shillings.” - -“Aye, aye, I have it all safe,” Banks assured him. “A brave suit, with -boots and a hat, a baldric, and some other odds and ends. They’re -above-stairs, waiting for you when you please. But what may you be -thinking of doing, Colonel, if I may make so bold as to ask?” - -Holles told him of his notion of sailing as a hand aboard a vessel -bound for France. - -The vintner pursed his lips and sadly shook his head, regarding his -guest the while from under bent brows. - -“Why, sir,” he said, “there’s no French shipping and no ships bound for -France at Wapping, and mighty few ships of any kind. The plague has -put an end to all that. The port of London is as empty as Proctor’s -yonder. There’s not a foreign ship’ll put into it, nor an English one -go out of it, for she wouldn’t be given harbour anywhere for fear of -the infection.” - -The Colonel’s face lengthened in dismay. This, he thought, was the last -blow of his malignant Fortune. - -“I shall have to go to Portsmouth, then,” he announced gloomily. “God -knows how I shall get there.” - -“Ye never will. For Portsmouth won’t have ye, nor any other town in -England neither, coming as ye do from London. I tell you, sir, the -country’s all crazed with fear of the plague.” - -“But I’ve a certificate of health.” - -“Ye’d need to have it backed by a minister of state or ever Portsmouth -would let you inside her gates.” - -Holles looked at him blankly for a moment, then expressed his -bitterness in a laugh. - -“In that case I don’t know what remains. Ye don’t need a drawer these -days, I suppose?” - -The vintner was frowning thoughtfully, considering the first of those -two questions. - -“Why, ye say ye’re a safe man. Ye’ll not have seen His Grace of -Albemarle’s proclamation asking for safe men?” - -“Asking for safe men? To what end?” - -“Nay, the proclamation don’t say. Ye’ll find that out in Whitehall, -maybe. But there’s a service of some kind his grace has to offer to -them as is safe. Things being like this with you, now, ye might think -it worth while to ask. It might be something for ye, for the present at -least.” - -“It might,” said Holles. “And, apparently, it’s that or nothing. He’ll -be needing scavengers, likely, or drivers for the dead-cart.” - -“Nay, nay, it’ll be something better than that,” said Banks, taking him -literally. - -Holles rose. “Whatever it may be, when a man is faced with starvation -he had best realize that pride won’t fill an empty belly.” - -“No more it will,” Banks agreed, eyeing the Colonel’s uncouth garments. -“But if ye’re thinking of paying a visit to Whitehall ye’d be wise to -put on that other suit that’s above-stairs. Ye’ll never get past the -lackeys in that livery.” - -So you see issuing presently from the sign of The Harp a Colonel Holles -very different from the Colonel Holles who had entered it an hour -earlier. In a dark blue suit of camlet enlivened by a little gold lace, -black Spanish boots, and a black beaver set off by a heavy plume of -royal blue, without a sword, it is true, but swinging a long cane, he -presented a figure rarely seen just then in London streets. Perhaps -because of that his appearance at the Cockpit made the few remaining -and more or less idle ushers bestir themselves to announce him. - -He waited but a moment in the empty anteroom where three months ago he -had overheard Mr. Pepys of the Navy Office proclaiming England’s need -of practised soldiers. The usher who went to announce him returned -almost at once to conduct him into that pleasant chamber overlooking -the park where His Grace of Albemarle acted to-day as deputy for the -pleasure-loving libertine prince who had forsaken his stricken capital. - -The Duke heaved himself up as the Colonel entered. - -“So you’re come at last, Randal!” was his astounding greeting. “On my -life, you’ve taken your own time in answering my letter. I concluded -long since that the plague had carried you off.” - -“Your letter?” said Holles. And he stared blankly at the Duke, as he -clasped the proffered hand. - -“My letter, yes. You had it? The letter that I sent you nigh upon a -month ago to the Paul’s Head?” - -“Nay,” said Holles. “I had no letter.” - -“But....” Albemarle looked almost as if he did not believe him. “The -landlady there kept it for you. She said, I think, that you were absent -at the time, but would be back in a day or two, and that you should -have the letter at once on your return.” - -“A month ago, do you say? But it is two months and more since I left -the Paul’s Head!” - -“What do you tell me? Ah, wait. My messenger shall speak for himself on -this.” And he strode away to the bell-rope. - -But Holles checked him. - -“Nay, nay,” he cried with a wry smile. “There’s not the need. I think I -understand. Mrs. Quinn has been riding her malice on a loose rein. Your -messenger would, no doubt, announce whence he came, and Mrs. Quinn, -fearing that the news might be to my advantage, acted so as to prevent -his making further search for me. Evidently the plague has spared that -plaguy woman.” - -“What’s this?” The Duke’s heavy face empurpled. “Do you charge her with -suppressing a communication from an office of state? By Heaven, if -she’s still alive I’ll have her gaoled for it.” - -“Let be,” said Holles, seizing him by the arm. “Devil take the woman! -Tell me of the letter. Ye’ll never mean that you had found employment -for me, after all?” - -“You seem incredulous, Randal? Did you doubt my zeal for you?” - -“Oh, not your zeal. But the possibility of your helping one who was in -my case.” - -“Aye, aye. But as to that, why, Buckingham improved it when he stood -surety for your loyalty before the Justices. I heard of that. And when -the chance came, the chance of this Bombay command that already I had -earlier intended for you....” - -“The Bombay command?” Holles began to wonder did he dream. “But I -thought that it had been required by Buckingham for a friend of his -own.” - -“Sir Henry Stanhope, yes. So it had, and Stanhope sailed for the Indies -with the commission. But it seems that when he did so he already -carried the seeds of the plague within him. For he died of it on the -voyage. It was a Providence that he did, poor devil; for he was no more -fitted for the command than to be Archbishop of Canterbury. I wrote -to you at once asking you to seek me here, and I waited a fortnight -to hear from you. As you made no sign, I concluded that either you -were stricken with the plague, or no longer desired the office, and I -proceeded to appoint another gentleman of promise.” - -Holles folded the pinions of his soaring hopes and let himself fall -back into his despondency. He uttered a groan. - -“But that’s not the end,” Albemarle checked him. “No sooner had I -appointed this other than he, too, fell sick of the plague, and died a -week ago. I have already found another suitable man--no easy matter in -these days--and I had resolved to appoint him to-morrow to the vacant -office. But, if ye’re not afraid that the plague is bound up with this -commission, it’s at your disposal, and it shall be made out to you at -once.” - -Holles was gasping for breath. “You ... you mean that ... that I am to -have the command, after all!” It was incredible. He dared not believe -it. - -“That is what I have said. The commission is ...” Albemarle broke off -suddenly, and fell back before him. “What ails you man? You’re white -as a ghost. Ye’re not ill?” And he lugged out a handkerchief that -flung a reek of myrrh and ginger on the air, leaving Holles no single -doubt of the thing his grace was fearing. Albemarle imagined that the -plague which, as he had said, seemed bound up with this commission, -was already besetting the man upon whom he now proposed to bestow it. -The humour of it took Holles sharply, and his laugh rang out further to -startle the Duke. - -“There’s no need for electuaries against me,” he assured his grace. “I -am certified in health and carry no infection. I left Bunhill Fields -this morning.” - -“What?” Albemarle was astounded. “D’ye mean ye’ve had the plague?” - -“That is the whole reason of my being here. I am a safe man now. And I -came in answer to your proclamation asking for safe men.” - -Albemarle continued to stare at him in deepening amazement. - -“So that is what brought you?” he said at last, when full understanding -came to him. - -“But for that I certainly should never have come.” - -“Gad!” said Albemarle, and he repeated the ejaculation with a laugh, -for he found the situation curious enough to be amusing. “Gad! The ways -of Chance!” - -“Chance!” echoed Holles, suddenly very sober, realizing how this -sudden, unexpected turn of Fortune’s wheel had changed the whole -complexion of his life. “Almost it seems that Chance has stood my -friend at last, though it has waited until I had touched the very -bottom of misfortune. But for your proclamation, and but for Mrs. -Quinn, too, I should have been Fortune’s fool again over the matter of -this commission. It would have been here waiting for me, and I should -never have known. The very malice by which Mrs. Quinn sought to do me -disservice has turned to my benefit. For had she told your messenger -the truth--that I had vanished and that she had no knowledge of my -whereabouts--you would never have traced me just then, and you would -never have waited that fortnight. Thus all might have been changed.” -He paused, lost in a wonder that Albemarle did not share. - -“Maybe, maybe,” said his grace briskly. “But what matters now is -that you are here, and that the command is yours if you still wish -it. There is not even the fear of the plague to deter you, since you -are a safe man now. It is an important office, as I told you, and so -that you discharge its duties, as I know you will, it may prove but a -stepping-stone to greater things. What do you say?” - -“Say?” cried Holles, his cheeks flushed, his grey eyes gleaming. “Why, -I give you thanks with all my heart.” - -“Then you accept it. Good! For I believe you to be the very man for the -office.” Albemarle stepped to his writing-table, selected from among -some documents a parchment bearing a heavy seal, sat down, took up a -pen, and wrote briskly for a few seconds. He dusted the writing with -pounce, and proffered the document. “Here, then, is your commission. -How soon can you sail?” - -“In a month,” said Holles promptly. - -“A month!” Albemarle was taken aback. He frowned. “Why, man, you should -be ready in a week.” - -“Myself, I could be ready in a day. But I mean to take this new-found -tide of fortune at the flood, and....” - -But Albemarle interrupted him impatiently. - -“Don’t you realize, man, the time that has been already lost? For four -months now this office has stood vacant.” - -“Which means that there’s a very competent lieutenant in charge. Let -him continue yet awhile. Once I am there, I’ll speedily make up for -lost time. That I can promise you. You see, it may be that I shall have -a companion, who cannot possibly be ready in less than a month.” - -With an odd, reckless trust in the continuance of Fortune’s favour now, -he boldly added: “You have said that I am the very man for the office. -The government can wait a month, or you can appoint some one less -likely to serve it as efficiently.” - -Albemarle smiled at him grimly across the table. “Ye’re very full of -surprises to-day, Master Randal. And this one baffles me.” - -“Shall I explain it?” - -“It would be a condescension.” - -Holles poured out his tale, and Albemarle gave him a sympathetic -hearing. When he had done, the Duke sighed and turned aside before -replying, to examine the pages of a notebook at his elbow. - -“Well, well,” he said at length, having consulted an entry. “The -_English Lass_ is fitting at Portsmouth for the voyage, and should be -ready, I am informed, in two weeks from now. But there are ever delays -at present, and it is odds that in no case would she be ready in less -than three weeks. I’ll see to it that she is not ready under a month.” - -Impetuously the Colonel held out both hands to the Duke. - -“What a friend you are!” he cried. - -Albemarle wrung them hard. “You’re damnably like your father, God -rest him!” said he. Then, almost brusquely: “Away with you now, and -good-luck to you. I’ll not ask you to stay to see her grace at present, -since you’re pressed. You shall kiss her hands before you sail. Be off!” - -Holles took his leave. At the door he suddenly checked, and, turning, -displayed a rueful countenance. - -“Although I have the King’s commission in my pocket and hold an -important office in his service, I haven’t a shilling in the world,” he -said. “Not a shilling.” - -Albemarle responded instantly by producing a purse from which he -counted twenty pounds. There was no sign of parsimonious reluctance -about his offer now. - -“As a loan, of course,” said Holles, gathering up the yellow coins. - -“No, no,” Albemarle corrected him. “An advance. Take no further thought -for it. The Treasury shall refund me the money at once.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -THE MIRACLE - - -Away from Whitehall, where the ground was green with thriving grass, -went Colonel Holles at speed. He set his face towards Islington once -more, and swung along with great strides, carrying in his breast a -heart more blithe than he had known for many a year. Blind and deaf to -all about him, his mind sped ahead of his limbs to the goal for which -he made. - -Thus, until a sudden awful dread assailed him. Fortune had fooled and -cheated him so often that it was impossible he should long continue in -this new-born trust in her favour. It was, after all, four weeks since -he had seen Nancy, and those in that house of rest where he had spent -the period of his sequestration could tell him nothing of her since -they held no direct intercourse with those who had their being in the -pest-houses. In a month much may betide. Evil might have befallen her, -or she might have departed thence. To soothe the latter dread came the -recollection that any such departure would have been impossible until -she, too, had undergone the prescribed period of disinfection. But the -former dread was not so easily to be allayed. It would be so entirely -of a piece with all his history that, now that apparently he held the -earnest of Fortune in his hands, he should make the discovery that this -had reached him too late; that, even as she bestowed with the one hand, -so with the other did Fortune rob him. - -You conceive, then, the dread anxiety in which he came, breathless, -hot, and weary from the speed he had made, to the open fields and at -last to the stout, spiked gates of that pleasant homestead that had -been put to the uses of a lazaret. Here a stern and surly guardian -denied him passage. - -“You cannot enter, sir. What do you seek?” - -“Happiness, my friend,” said the Colonel, completing the other’s -conviction that he was mad. But mad or sane there was a masterful air -about him now. He bristled with the old amiable arrogance that of late -had been overlaid by despondency and lassitude of soul. And his demand -that the gate should be unbarred for him held an authority that was not -lightly to be denied. - -“You understand, sir,” the gatekeeper asked him, “that, once you enter -here, you may not go back whence you come for twenty-eight days, at -least?” - -“I understand,” said Holles, “and I come prepared to pay the price. So, -in God’s name, open, friend.” - -The gatekeeper shrugged. “Ye’re warned,” he said, and raised the bar, -thus removing, as he thought, all obstacles that kept a fool from his -folly. - -Colonel Holles entered. The gates clashed behind him, and he took his -way briskly, almost at a run, down the long avenue in the dappled shade -of the beech trees and elms that bordered it, making straight for the -nearest of the red-brick outhouses, which was the one which he himself -had occupied during his sickness. - -A broadly built, elderly woman perceived his approach from the doorway, -and, after staring at him a moment in surprise and consternation, -started forward to meet him, calling to him to stand. But he came on -heedless and breathless until they were face to face. - -“How came you in, you foolish man?” she cried. - -“You don’t know me, Mrs. Barlow?” he asked her. - -Startled anew by that pleasant, familiar address, she stared at -him again. And then, under the finery and vigour investing him and -rendering him almost unrecognizable to eyes that remembered only the -haggard, meanly clad fellow of a month ago, she discovered him. - -“Save us! It’s Colonel Holles!” And almost without pause she went on -in a voice of distress: “But you were to have left the house of rest -to-day. Whatever can have brought you back here to undo all again.” - -“Nay, not to undo. To do, Mrs. Barlow, by God’s help. But ye’ve a -singular good memory, to remember that I should be leaving to-day!” - -She shook her head, and smiled with a touch of sadness. “’Twasn’t me -that remembered, sir. It was Miss Sylvester.” And again she shook her -head. - -“She’s here, then! Ha! She is well?” - -“Well enough, poor dear. But oh, so mortal sad. She’s yonder, resting, -under the cedars--a place she’s haunted this past month.” - -He swung aside, and, without more than a hurriedly flung word of thanks -or excuse, he was gone swiftly across the lawn, towards that cluster of -cedars, amid whose gnarled old trunks he could discern the flutter of a -grey gown. - -She had haunted the spot this month past, Mrs. Barlow had said. And it -was the spot where they had spoken their farewells. Ah, surely Fortune -would not trick him this time! Not again, surely, would she dash away -the cup from his very lips, as so often she had done! - -As he drew nearer over the soft, yielding turf that deadened all sound -of his steps, he saw her sitting on that stone seat where a month ago -he had left her in the conviction that he was never to behold her again -with the eyes of the flesh. Her shoulders were turned towards him, but -even so he perceived in her attitude something of the listlessness -by which she was possessed. He paused, his pulses throbbing, paused -instinctively, fearing now to startle her, as startle her he must, -however he approached. - -He stood arrested there, breathless, at a loss. And then as if she -sensed his presence, she slowly turned and looked behind her. A long -while she stared, startled, white-faced. - -“Randal!” She was on her feet, confronting him. - -He plunged forward. - -“Oh, Randal, why have you come here? You should have gone to-day....” - -“I went, and I have returned, Nan,” he told her, standing there beside -her now. - -“You have returned!” She looked him over more attentively now, and -observed the brave suit of dark blue camlet that so well became his -tall, spare frame, and the fine Spanish boots that were now overlaid -with dust. “You have returned!” she said again. - -“Nan,” he said, “a miracle has happened.” And from his breast he pulled -that parchment with its great seal. “A month ago I was a beggar. To-day -I am Colonel Holles in something more than name, commanding something -more than a mere regiment. I have come back, Nan, because at last I -can offer you something in exchange for all that you will sacrifice in -taking me.” - -She sank down slowly, weakly, to the seat, he standing over her, until -they were in the same attitude of a month ago. But how different now -was all else! She leaned her elbows on her knees a moment, pressing her -hands to her throbbing temples. - -“It is real, this? It ... it is true? True?” she asked aloud, though -clearly not of him. And then she sat back again, and looked up into his -face. - -“It is not very much, perhaps, when all is said, though it seems much -to me to-day, and with you beside me I shall know how to make it more. -Still, such as it is, I offer it.” And he tossed the parchment down -into her lap. - -She looked at the white cylinder without touching it, and then at him -again, and a little smile crept about the corners of her sweet mouth, -and trembled there. Into her mind there leapt the memory of the big -boast of conquest for her sake with which he had set out in the long -ago. - -“Is this the world you promised me, Randal?” she asked him. And his -heart bounded at the old rallying note, which laid his last doubt to -rest. - -“As much of it as I can contrive to get,” said he. - -“Then it will be enough for me,” she answered. And there was no -raillery in her voice now, only an infinite tenderness. She rose, and, -standing there close before him, held out the parchment still unfolded. - -“But you haven’t looked,” he protested. - -“What need to look? It is your kingdom, you have told me. And I’ll -share your kingdom whatever it may be.” - -“It is situate in the Indies ... in Bombay,” said he, with a certain -diffidence. - -She considered. - -“I always had a thirst for travel,” she said deliberately. - -He felt that it was due to her that he should explain the nature -of this appointment and how he came by it. To that explanation he -proceeded. Before he had reached the end she was in tears. - -“Why? Why? What now?” he cried in dismay. “Does your heart misgive you?” - -“Misgive me? Oh, Randal! How can you think that? I weep for -thankfulness. I have spent a month of such hopeless anguish, and -now....” - -He put an arm about her shoulder, and drew her head down on to his -breast. “My dear,” he murmured. He sighed, and held her thus in a -silence that was like a prayer, until, at length, she raised her face. - -“Do you know, Randal, that it is more years than I care to think of -since last you kissed me, and then you vexed me by stealing what is now -yours to take.” - -He was a little awed. But, after all, with all his faults, he was never -one to yield to fear. - -They were married on the morrow, and their honeymoon was spent in -that sequestration that the law exacted. Certified clear of infection -at last, they were permitted to go forth to garner the honours that -Fortune had stored up for Randal Holles to make amends for all that he -had earlier suffered at her hands. - - -THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTUNE'S FOOL *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/65939-0.zip b/old/65939-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fa8807f..0000000 --- a/old/65939-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65939-h.zip b/old/65939-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8b32312..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65939-h/65939-h.htm b/old/65939-h/65939-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index be1263e..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h/65939-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11508 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fortune's Fool, by Rafael Sabatini. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - - p { margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - p.bold {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} - p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } - #id1 { font-size: smaller } - - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - body{margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border-collapse: collapse; border: none; text-align: right;} - - .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0px; - } /* page numbers */ - - .center {text-align: center;} - .smaller {font-size: smaller;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ - .space-above {margin-top: 3em;} - .left {text-align: left;} - - .poem {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem div {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem div.i1 {margin-left: 1em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fortune's Fool, by Rafael Sabatini</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Fortune's Fool</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Rafael Sabatini</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 28, 2021 [eBook #65939]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTUNE'S FOOL ***</div> - -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:<br /><br /> -Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="front" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<h1>FORTUNE’S FOOL </h1> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">FORTUNE’S FOOL</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">RAFAEL SABATINI</p> - -<p class="bold"><i>Author of “Scaramouche,” “Captain Blood,” “The Snare,”<br /> -“The Sea-Hawk,” etc.</i></p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<p class="bold space-above">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br />HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br />The Riverside Press Cambridge</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1922 AND 1923, BY THE McCALL COMPANY<br />COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY RAFAEL SABATINI</p> - -<p class="center">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> - -<p class="center space-above">SECOND IMPRESSION, AUGUST, 1923<br /> -THIRD IMPRESSION, AUGUST, 1923<br />FOURTH IMPRESSION, OCTOBER, 1923</p> - -<p class="center space-above">The Riverside Press<br />CAMBRIDGE: MASSACHUSETTS<br />PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td>I. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Hostess of the Paul’s Head</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Albemarle’s Antechamber</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">His Grace of Albemarle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Cherry Blossoms</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Mercenary</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Etheredge Prescribes</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Prude</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Etheredge Advises</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Albemarle Proposes</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Buckingham Disposes</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Woman Scorned</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Buckingham’s Heroics</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Buckingham’s Gratitude</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Despair</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Shadow of the Gallows</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Sedan-Chair</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Abduction</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Parley</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Battle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>XX. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Conqueror</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Under the Red Cross</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Crisis</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Walls of Pride</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Evasion</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Home</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Dead-Cart</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Pest-House</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVIII. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Jesting Fortune</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIX. </td> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Miracle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h2>FORTUNE’S FOOL </h2> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">FORTUNE’S FOOL</p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">THE HOSTESS OF THE PAUL’S HEAD</span></h2> - -<p>The times were full of trouble; but Martha Quinn was unperturbed. -Hers was a mind that confined itself to the essentials of life: its -sustenance and reproduction. Not for her to plague herself with the -complexities of existence, with considerations of the Hereafter -or disputations upon the various creeds by which its happiness -may be ensured—a matter upon which men have always been ready to -send one another upon exploring voyages thither—or yet with the -political opinions by which a nation is fiercely divided. Not even -the preparations for war with Holland, which were agitating men so -violently, or the plague-scare based upon reports of several cases in -the outskirts of the City, could disturb the serenity of her direct -existence. The vices of the Court, which afforded such delectable -scandal for the Town, touched her more nearly, as did the circumstance -that yellow bird’s-eye hoods were now all the rage with ladies of -fashion, and the fact that London was lost in worship of the beauty and -talent of Sylvia Farquharson, who was appearing with Mr. Betterton at -the Duke’s House in the part of Katherine in Lord Orrery’s “Henry the -Fifth.”</p> - -<p>Even so, to Martha Quinn, who very competently kept the Paul’s Head, -in Paul’s Yard, these things were but the unimportant trifles that -garnish the dish of life. It was upon life’s main concerns that she -concentrated her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>attention. In all that regarded meat and drink her -learning—as became the hostess of so prosperous a house—was probably -unrivalled. It was not merely that she understood the mysteries of -bringing to a proper succulence a goose, a turkey, or a pheasant; but -a chine of beef roasted in her oven was like no chine of beef at any -other ordinary; she could perform miracles with marrow-bones; and -she could so dissemble the umbles of venison in a pasty as to render -it a dish fit for a prince’s table. Upon these talents was her solid -prosperity erected. She possessed, further—as became the mother of -six sturdy children of assorted paternity—a discerning eye for a -fine figure of a man. I am prepared to believe that in this matter -her judgment was no whit inferior to that which enabled her, as she -boasted, to determine at a glance the weight and age of a capon.</p> - -<p>It was to this fact—although he was very far from suspecting it—that -Colonel Holles owed the good fortune of having lodged in luxury for the -past month without ever a reckoning asked or so much as a question on -the subject of his means. The circumstance may have exercised him. I do -not know. But I know that it should have done so. For his exterior—his -fine figure apart—was not of the kind that commands credit.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Quinn had assigned to his exclusive use a cosy little parlour -behind the common room. On the window-seat of this little parlour he -now lounged, whilst Mrs. Quinn herself—and the day was long past in -which it had been her need or habit with her own plump hands to perform -so menial an office—removed from the table the remains of his very -solid breakfast.</p> - -<p>The lattice, of round, leaded panes of greenish, wrinkled glass, stood -open to the sunlit garden and the glory of cherry trees that were -belatedly in blossom. From one of these a thrush was pouring forth a -<i>Magnificat</i> to the spring. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> thrush, like Mrs. Quinn, concentrated -his attention upon life’s essentials, and was glad to live. Not so -Colonel Holles. He was a man caught and held fast in the web of life’s -complexities. It was to be seen in his listless attitude; in the -upright deep line of care that graved itself between his brows, in the -dreamy wistfulness of his grey eyes, as he lounged there, shabbily -clad, one leg along the leather-cushioned window-seat, pulling vacantly -at his long clay pipe.</p> - -<p>Observing him furtively, with a furtiveness, indeed, that was almost -habitual to her, Mrs. Quinn pursued her task, moving between table and -sideboard, and hesitated to break in upon his abstraction. She was -a woman on the short side of middle height, well hipped and deep of -bosom, but not excessively. The phrase “plump as a partridge” might -have been invented to describe her. In age she cannot have been much -short of forty, and whilst not without a certain homely comeliness, -in no judgment but her own could she have been accounted beautiful. -Very blue of eye and very ruddy of cheek, she looked the embodiment of -health; and this rendered her not unpleasing. But the discerning would -have perceived greed in the full mouth with its long upper lip, and sly -cunning—Nature’s compensation to low intelligences—in her vivid eyes.</p> - -<p>It remains, however, that she was endowed with charms enough of person -and of fortune to attract Coleman, the bookseller from the corner of -Paul’s Yard, and Appleby, the mercer from Paternoster Row. She might -marry either of them when she pleased. But she did not please. Her -regard for essentials rendered the knock-knees of Appleby as repulsive -to her as the bow-legs of Coleman. Moreover, certain adventitious -associations with the great world—to which her assorted offspring bore -witness—had begotten in her a fastidiousness of taste that was not -to be defiled by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> touch of mercers and booksellers. Of late, it -is true, the thought of marriage had been engaging her. She realized -that the age of adventure touched its end for her, and that the time -had come to take a life companion and settle soberly. Yet not on -that account would Martha Quinn accept the first comer. She was in a -position to choose. Fifteen years of good management, prosperity, and -thrift at the Paul’s Head had made her wealthy. When she pleased she -could leave Paul’s Yard, acquire a modest demesne in the country, and -become one of the ladies of the land, a position for which she felt -herself eminently qualified. That which her birth might lack, that in -which her birth might have done poor justice to her nature, a husband -could supply. Often of late had her cunning blue eyes been narrowed in -mental review of this situation. What she required for her purposes was -a gentleman born and bred whom fortune had reduced in circumstances and -who would, therefore, be modest in the matter of matrimonial ambitions. -He must also be a proper man.</p> - -<p>Such a man she had found at last in Colonel Holles. From the moment -when a month ago he strode into her inn followed by an urchin -shouldering his valise and packages, and delivered himself upon his -immediate needs, she had recognized him for the husband she sought, and -marked him for her own. At a glance she had appraised him; the tall, -soldierly figure, broad to the waist, thence spare to the ground; the -handsome face, shaven like a Puritan’s, yet set between clusters of -gold-brown hair thick as a cavalier’s periwig, the long pear-shaped -ruby—a relic, no doubt, of more prosperous days—dangling from his -right ear; the long sword upon whose pummel his left hand rested with -the easy grace of long habit; the assured poise, the air of command, -the pleasant yet authoritative voice. All this she observed with those -vivid, narrowing eyes of hers. And she observed, too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the gentleman’s -discreditable shabbiness: the frayed condition of his long boots, the -drooping, faded feather in his Flemish beaver, the well-rubbed leather -jerkin, worn, no doubt, to conceal the threadbare state of the doublet -underneath. These very signs which might have prompted another hostess -to give our gentleman a guarded welcome urged Mrs. Quinn at once to -throw wide her arms to him, metaphorically at present that she might do -so literally anon.</p> - -<p>At a glance she knew him, then, for the man of her dreams, guided to -her door by that Providence to whose beneficence she already owed so -much.</p> - -<p>He had business in town, he announced—at Court, he added. It might -detain him there some little while. He required lodgings perhaps for a -week, perhaps for longer. Could she provide them?</p> - -<p>She could, indeed, for a week, and at need for longer. Mentally she -registered the resolve that it should be for longer; that, if she knew -her man and herself at all, it should be for life.</p> - -<p>And so at this handsome, down-at-heel gentleman’s disposal she had -placed not only the best bedroom abovestairs, but also the little -parlour hung in grey linsey-woolsey and gilded leather, which -overlooked the garden and which normally she reserved for her own -private use; and the Paul’s Head had awakened to such activity at -his coming as might have honoured the advent of a peer of the realm. -Hostess and drawer and chambermaid had bestirred themselves to -anticipate his every wish. The cook had been flung into the street -for overgrilling the luscious marrow-bones that had provided his -first breakfast, and the chambermaid’s ears had been soundly boxed -for omission to pass the warming-pan through the Colonel’s bed to -ensure of its being aired. And although it was now a full month since -his arrival, and in all that time our gentleman had been lavishly -entertained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> upon the best meat and drink the Paul’s Head could offer, -yet in all that time there had been—I repeat—neither mention of a -reckoning, nor question of his means to satisfy it.</p> - -<p>At first he had protested against the extravagance of the -entertainment. But his protests had been laughed aside with -good-humoured scorn. His hostess knew a gentleman when she saw one, -he was assured, and knew how a gentleman should be entertained. -Unsuspicious of the designs upon him, he never dreamed that the heavy -debt he was incurring was one of the coils employed by this cunning -huntress in which to bind him.</p> - -<p>Her housewifely operations being ended at last—after a prolongation -which could be carried to no further lengths—she overcame her -hesitation to break in upon his thoughts, which must be gloomy, indeed, -if his countenance were a proper index. Nothing could have been more -tactful than her method, based upon experience of the Colonel’s -phenomenal thirst, which, at all times unquenchable, must this morning -have been further sharpened by the grilled herrings which had formed a -part of his breakfast.</p> - -<p>As she addressed him now, she held in her hand the long pewter vessel -from which he had taken his morning draught.</p> - -<p>“Is there aught ye lack for your comfort, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>He stirred, turned his head, to face her, and took the pipestem from -between his lips.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, I thank you,” he answered, with a gravity that had been -growing upon him in the last fortnight, to overcloud the earlier -good-humour of his bearing.</p> - -<p>“What—nothing?” The buxom siren’s ruddy face was creased in an -alluring smile. Aloft now she held the tankard, tilting her still -golden head. “Not another draught of October before you go forth?” she -coaxed him.</p> - -<p>As he looked at her now, he smiled. And it has been left on record by -one who knew him well that his smile was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> irresistible, a smile that -could always win him the man or woman upon whom he bestowed it. It had -a trick of breaking suddenly upon a face that in repose was wistful, -like sunshine breaking suddenly from a grey sky.</p> - -<p>“I vow you spoil me,” said he.</p> - -<p>She beamed upon him. “Isn’t that the duty of a proper hostess?”</p> - -<p>She set the tankard on the laden tray and bore it out with her. When -she brought it back replenished, and placed it on a coffin-stool beside -him, he had changed his attitude, but not his mood of thoughtfulness. -He roused himself to thank her.</p> - -<p>She hovered near until he had taken a pull of the brown October.</p> - -<p>“Do you go forth this morning?”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” he answered, but wearily, as if reduced to hopelessness. “They -told me I should find his grace returned to-day. But they have told me -the same so often already, that....” He sighed, and broke off, leaving -his doubts implied. “I sometimes wonder if they but make game of me.”</p> - -<p>“Make game of you!” Horror stressed her voice. “When the Duke is your -friend!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! But that was long ago. And men change ... amazingly sometimes.” -Then he cast off the oppression of his pessimism. “But if there’s to -be war, surely there will be commands in which to employ a practised -soldier—especially one who has experience of the enemy, experience -gained in the enemy’s own service.” It was as if he uttered aloud his -thoughts.</p> - -<p>She frowned at this. Little by little in the past month she had drawn -from him some essential part of his story, and although he had been far -from full in his confidences, yet she had gleaned enough to persuade -herself that a reason existed why he should never reach this duke upon -whom he depended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> for military employment. And in that she had taken -comfort; for, as you surmise, it was no part of her intention that he -should go forth to the wars again, and so be lost to her.</p> - -<p>“I marvel now,” said she, “that you will be vexing yourself with such -matters.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her. “A man must live,” he explained.</p> - -<p>“But that’s no reason why he should go to the wars and likely die. -Hasn’t there been enough o’ that in your life already? At your age a -man’s mind should be on other things.”</p> - -<p>“At my age?” He laughed a little. “I am but thirty-five.”</p> - -<p>She betrayed her surprise. “You look more.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I have lived more. I have been very busy.”</p> - -<p>“Trying to get yourself killed. Don’t it occur to you that the time has -come to be thinking o’ something else?”</p> - -<p>He gave her a mildly puzzled glance, frowning a little.</p> - -<p>“You mean?”</p> - -<p>“That it’s time ye thought o’ settling, taking a wife and making a home -and a family.”</p> - -<p>The tone she adopted was one of commonplace, good-humoured kindliness. -But her breathing had quickened a little, and her face had lost some of -its high colour in the excitement of thus abruptly coming to grips with -her subject.</p> - -<p>He stared a moment blankly, then shrugged and laughed.</p> - -<p>“Excellent advice,” said he, still laughing on a note of derision that -obviously was aimed at himself. “Find me a lady who is well endowed and -yet so little fastidious in her tastes that she could make shift with -such a husband as I should afford her, and the thing is done.”</p> - -<p>“Now there I vow you do yourself injustice.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, it’s a trick I’ve learnt from others.”</p> - -<p>“You are, when all is said, a very proper man.”</p> - -<p>“Aye! But proper for what?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>She pursued her theme without pausing to answer his frivolous question. -“And there’s many a woman of substance who needs a man to care for her -and guard her—such a man as yourself, Colonel; one who knows his world -and commands a worthy place in it.”</p> - -<p>“I command that, do I? On my soul you give me news of myself.”</p> - -<p>“If ye don’t command it, it is that ye lack the means, perhaps. But the -place is yours by right.”</p> - -<p>“By what right, good hostess?”</p> - -<p>“By the right of your birth and breeding and military rank, which is -plain upon you. Sir, why will you be undervaluing yourself? The means -that would enable you to take your proper place would be provided by -the wife who would be glad to share it with you.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head, and laughed again.</p> - -<p>“Do you know of such a lady?”</p> - -<p>She paused before replying, pursing her full lips, pretending to -consider, that thus she might dissemble her hesitation.</p> - -<p>There was more in that hesitation than either of them could have come -near imagining. Indeed, his whole destiny was in it. Upon such light -things do human fates depend that had she now taken the plunge, and -offered herself as she intended—instead of some ten days later, as -eventually happened—although his answer would have varied nothing from -what it ultimately was, yet the whole stream of his life would have -been diverted into other channels, and his story might never have been -worth telling.</p> - -<p>Because her courage failed her at this moment, Destiny pursued the -forging of that curious chain of circumstance which it is my task to -reveal to you link by link.</p> - -<p>“I think,” she said slowly at last, “that I should not be sorely put to -it to find her. I ... I should not have far to seek.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is a flattering conviction. Alas, ma’am, I do not share it.” He -was sardonic. He made it clear that he refused to take the matter -seriously, that with him it never could be more than a peg for jests. -He rose, smiling a little crookedly. “Therefore I’ll still pin my -hopes to his grace of Albemarle. They may be desperate; but, faith, -they’re none so desperate as hopes of wedlock.” He took up his sword -as he spoke, passing the baldric over his head and settling it on his -shoulder. Then he reached for his hat, Mrs. Quinn regarding him the -while in mingling wistfulness and hesitation.</p> - -<p>At last she roused herself, and sighed.</p> - -<p>“We shall see; we shall see. Maybe we’ll talk of it again.”</p> - -<p>“Not if you love me, delectable matchmaker,” he protested, turning to -depart.</p> - -<p>Solicitude for his immediate comfort conquered all other considerations -in her.</p> - -<p>“You’ll not go forth without another draught to ... to fortify you.”</p> - -<p>She had possessed herself again of the empty tankard. He paused and -smiled. “I may need fortifying,” he confessed, thinking of all the -disappointment that had waited upon his every previous attempt to see -the Duke. “You think of everything,” he praised her. “You are not Mrs. -Quinn of the Paul’s Head, you are benign Fortune pouring gifts from an -inexhaustible cornucopia.”</p> - -<p>“La, sir!” she laughed, as she bustled out. It would be wrong to say -that she did not understand him; for she perfectly understood that he -paid her some high and flowery compliment, which was what she most -desired of him as an earnest of better things to follow.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">ALBEMARLE’S ANTECHAMBER</span></h2> - -<p>Through the noisy bustle of Paul’s Yard the Colonel took his way, -his ears deafened by the “What d’ye lack?” of the bawling prentices -standing before The Flower of Luce, The White Greyhound, The Green -Dragon, The Crown, The Red Bull, and all the other signs that -distinguished the shops in that long array, among which the booksellers -were predominant. He moved with a certain arrogant, swaggering -assurance, despite his shabby finery. His Flemish beaver worn at a -damn-me cock, his long sword thrust up behind by the hand that rested -upon the pummel, his useless spurs—which a pot-boy at the Paul’s -Head had scoured to a silvery brightness—providing martial music to -his progress. A certain grimness that invested him made the wayfarers -careful not to jostle him. In that throng of busy, peaceful citizens -he was like a wolf loping across a field of sheep; and those whom he -met made haste to give him the wall, though it should entail thrusting -themselves or their fellows into the filth of the kennel.</p> - -<p>Below Ludgate, in that evil valley watered by the Fleet Ditch, there -were hackney-coaches in plenty, and, considering the distance which -he must go and the desirability of coming to his destination cleanly -shod, Colonel Holles was momentarily tempted. He resisted, however; -and this was an achievement in one who had never sufficiently studied -that most essential of the arts of living. He bethought him—and sighed -wearily over the reflection—of the alarming lightness of his purse and -the alarming heaviness of his score at the Paul’s Head, where he had -so culpably lacked the strength of mind to deny himself any of those -luxuries with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> which in the past month he had been lavished, and for -which, should Albemarle fail him in the end, he knew not how to pay. -This reflection contained an exaggeration of his penury. There was that -ruby in his ear, a jewel that being converted into gold should keep a -man in ease for the best part of a twelvemonth. For fifteen years and -through many a stress of fortune it had hung and glowed there amid -his clustering gold-brown hair. Often had hunger itself urged him to -sell the thing that he might fill his belly. Yet ever had reluctance -conquered him. He attached to that bright gem a sentimental value -that had become a superstition. There had grown up in his mind the -absolute conviction that this jewel, the gift of an unknown whose life -he had arrested on the black threshold of eternity, was a talisman -and something more—that, as it had played a part in the fortunes of -another, so should it yet play a part in the fortunes of himself and -of that other jointly. There abode with him the unconquerable feeling -that this ruby was a bond between himself and that unknown, a lodestone -that should draw each to the other ultimately across a whole world of -obstacles and that the meeting should be mutually fateful.</p> - -<p>There were times when, reviewing the thing more soberly, he laughed -at his crazy belief. Yet, oddly enough, those were never the times in -which dire necessity drove him to contemplate its sale. So surely as he -came to consider that, so surely did the old superstition, begotten of -and steadily nourished by his fancy, seize upon him to bid him hold his -hand and suffer all but death before thus purchasing redemption.</p> - -<p>Therefore was it that, as he took his way now up Fleet Hill, he left -that jewel out of his calculations in his assessment of his utterly -inadequate means.</p> - -<p>Westward through the mire of the Strand he moved, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> his swinging -soldierly stride, and so, by Charing Cross, at last into Whitehall -itself. Down this he passed towards the chequered embattled Cockpit -Gate that linked one side of the palace with the other.</p> - -<p>It was close upon noon, and that curial thoroughfare was more than -ordinarily thronged, the war with Holland—now an accomplished -fact—being responsible for the anxious, feverish bustle hereabouts. -Adown its middle moved a succession of coaches to join the cluster -gathered about the Palace Gate and almost blocking the street from one -row of bourne posts to the other.</p> - -<p>Opposite the Horse Guards the Colonel came to a momentary halt on the -skirts of a knot of idlers, standing at gaze to observe the workmen -on the palace roof who were engaged in erecting there a weather-vane. -A gentleman whom he questioned informed him that this was for the -convenience of the Lord High Admiral, the Duke of York, so that his -grace might observe from his windows how the wind served the plaguey -Dutch fleet which was expected now to leave the Texel at any hour. The -Lord Admiral, it was clear, desired to waste no unnecessary time upon -the quarter-deck.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles moved on, glancing across at the windows of the -banqueting-house, whence, as a lad of twenty, a cornet of horse, some -sixteen years ago, he had seen the late King step forth into the -sunlight of a crisp January morning to suffer the loss of his head. -And perhaps he remembered that his own father, long since dead—and -so beyond the reach of any Stuart vengeance—had been one of the -signatories of the warrant under which that deed was done.</p> - -<p>He passed on, from the sunlight into the shadow of Holbein’s noble -gateway, and then, emerging beyond, he turned to his right, past the -Duke of Monmouth’s lodging into the courtyard of the Cockpit, where the -Duke of Albemarle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> had his residence. Here his lingering doubt on the -score of whether his grace were yet returned to Town was set at rest by -the bustle in which he found himself. But there remained another doubt; -which was whether his grace, being now returned, would condescend -to receive him. Six times in the course of the past four weeks had -he vainly sought admission. On three of those occasions he had been -shortly answered that his grace was out of Town; on one of them—the -last—more circumstantially that his grace was at Portsmouth about -the business of the fleet. Twice it was admitted—and he had abundant -evidences, as now—that the Duke was at home and receiving; but the -Colonel’s shabbiness had aroused the mistrust of the ushers, and they -had barred his way to ask him superciliously was he commanded by the -Duke. Upon his confession that he was not, they informed him that the -Duke was over-busy to receive any but those whom he had commanded, -and they bade him come again some other day. He had not imagined that -George Monk would be so difficult of access, remembering his homely -republican disregard of forms in other days. But being twice repulsed -from his threshold in this fashion, he had taken the precaution of -writing before presenting himself now, begging his grace to give orders -that he should be admitted, unless he no longer held a place in his -grace’s memory.</p> - -<p>The present visit, therefore, was fateful. A refusal now he must regard -as final, in which case he would be left to curse the impulse that had -brought him back to England, where it was very likely he would starve.</p> - -<p>A doorkeeper with a halbert barred his progress on the threshold. “Your -business, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Is with His Grace of Albemarle.” The Colonel’s tone was sharp and -confident. Thanks to this the next question was less challengingly -delivered. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You are commanded, sir?”</p> - -<p>“I have reason to believe I am awaited. His grace is apprised of my -coming.”</p> - -<p>The doorkeeper looked him over again, and then made way.</p> - -<p>He was past the outer guard, and his hopes rose. But at the end of a -long gallery a wooden-faced usher confronted him, and the questions -recommenced. When Holles announced that he had written to beg an -audience—</p> - -<p>“Your name, sir?” the usher asked.</p> - -<p>“Randal Holles.” He spoke it softly with a certain inward dread, -suddenly aware that such a name could be no password in Whitehall, for -it had been his father’s name before him—the name of a regicide, and -something more.</p> - -<p>There was an abundance of foolish, sensational, and mythical stories -which the popular imagination had woven about the execution of King -Charles I. The execution of a king was a portent, and there never yet -was a portent that did not gather other portents to be its satellites. -Of these was the groundless story that the official headsman was -missing on the day of the execution because he dared not strike off the -head of God’s anointed, and that the headsman’s mask had covered the -face of one who at the last moment had offered himself to act as his -deputy. The identity of this deputy had been fastened upon many more or -less well-known men, but most persistently upon Randal Holles, for no -better reason than because his stern and outspoken republicanism had -been loosely interpreted by the populace as personal rancour towards -King Charles. Therefore, and upon no better ground than that of this -idle story, the name of Randal Holles bore, in those days of monarchy -restored, the brand of a certain infamous notoriety.</p> - -<p>It produced, however, no fearful effect upon the usher. Calmly, -mechanically repeating it, the fellow consulted a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> sheet of paper. -Then, at last, his manner changed. It became invested by a certain -obsequiousness. Clearly he had found the name upon his list. He opened -the studded door of which he was the guardian.</p> - -<p>“If you will be pleased to enter, sir....” he murmured.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles swaggered in, the usher following.</p> - -<p>“If you will be pleased to wait, sir....” The usher left him, and -crossed the room, presumably to communicate his name to yet another -usher, a clerkly fellow with a wand, who kept another farther door.</p> - -<p>The Colonel disposed himself to wait, sufficiently uplifted to practise -great lengths of patience. He found himself in a lofty, sparsely -furnished antechamber, one of a dozen or more clients, all of them men -of consequence if their dress and carriage were to be taken at surface -value.</p> - -<p>Some turned to look askance at this down-at-heel intruder; but not for -long. There was that in the grey eyes of Colonel Holles when returning -such looks as these which could put down the haughtiest stare. He knew -his world and its inhabitants too well to be moved by them either to -respect or fear. Those were the only two emotions none had the power to -arouse in him.</p> - -<p>Having met their insolence by looking at them as they might look at -pot-boys, he strode across to an empty bench that was ranged against -the carved wainscoting, and sat himself down with a clatter.</p> - -<p>The noise he made drew the attention of two gentlemen who stood near -the bench in conversation. One of these, whose back was towards Holles, -glanced round upon him. He was tall, and elderly, with a genial, ruddy -countenance. The other, a man of about Holles’s own age, was short -and sturdily built with a swarthy face set in a heavy black periwig, -dressed with a certain foppish care, and of a manner that blended -amiability with a degree of self sufficiency. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> flashed upon Holles -a pair of bright blue eyes that were, however, without hostility or -disdain, and, although unknown to the Colonel, he slightly inclined his -head to him in formal, dignified salutation, almost as if asking leave -to resume his voluble conversation within this newcomer’s hearing.</p> - -<p>Scraps of that conversation floated presently to the Colonel’s ears.</p> - -<p>“ ... and I tell you, Sir George, that his grace is mightily off the -hooks at all this delay. That is why he hurried away to Portsmouth, -that by his own presence he might order things....” The pleasant voice -grew inaudible to rise again presently. “The need is all for officers, -men trained in war....”</p> - -<p>The Colonel pricked up his ears at that. But the voice had dropped -again, and he could not listen without making it obvious that he did -so, until the speaker’s tones soared once more.</p> - -<p>“These ardent young gentlemen are well enough, and do themselves great -credit by their eagerness, but in war....”</p> - -<p>Discreetly, to the Colonel’s vexation, the gentleman again lowered his -voice. He was inaudibly answered by his companion, and it was some time -before Holles heard another word of what passed between them. By then -the conversation had veered a point.</p> - -<p>“ ...and there the talk was all of the Dutch ... that the fleet is -out.” The sturdy, swarthy gentleman was speaking. “That and these -rumours of the plague growing upon us in the Town—from which may God -preserve us!—are now almost the only topics.”</p> - -<p>“Almost. But not quite,” the elder man broke in, laughing. “There’s -something else I’d not have expected you to forget; this Farquharson -girl at the Duke’s House.”</p> - -<p>“Sir George, I confess the need for your correction. I should not have -forgotten. That she shares the public tongue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> with such topics as the -war and the plague best shows the deep impression she has made.”</p> - -<p>“Deservedly?” Sir George asked the question as of one who was an -authority in such matters.</p> - -<p>“Oh, most deservedly, be assured. I was at the Duke’s House two days -since, and saw her play Katherine. And mightily pleased I was. I -cannot call to mind having seen her equal in the part, or indeed upon -the stage at all. And so thinks the Town. For though I came there by -two o’clock, yet there was no room in the pit, and I was forced to -pay four shillings to go into one of the upper boxes. The whole house -was mightily pleased with her, too, and in particular His Grace of -Buckingham. He spoke his praises from his box so that all might hear -him, and vowed he would not rest until he had writ a play for her, -himself.”</p> - -<p>“If to write a play for her be the only earnest his grace will afford -her of his admiration, then is Miss Farquharson fortunate.”</p> - -<p>“Or else unfortunate,” said the sturdy gentleman with a roguish look. -“’Tis all a question of how the lady views these matters. But let us -hope she is virtuous.”</p> - -<p>“I never knew you unfriendly to his grace before,” replied Sir George, -whereupon both laughed. And then the other, sinking his voice once more -to an inaudible pitch, added matter at which Sir George’s laughter grew -until it shook him.</p> - -<p>They were still laughing, when the door of Albemarle’s room opened -to give exit to a slight gentleman with flushed cheeks. Folding a -parchment as he went, the gentleman crossed the antechamber, stepping -quickly and bestowing nods in his passage, and was gone. As he vanished -at one door, the usher with the wand made his appearance at the other.</p> - -<p>“His grace will be pleased to receive Mr. Pepys.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<p>The swarthy, sturdy gentleman cast off the remains of his laughter, and -put on a countenance of gravity.</p> - -<p>“I come,” he said. “Sir George, you’ll bear me company.” His tone -blended invitation and assertion. His tall companion bowed, and -together they went off, and passed into the Duke’s room.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles leaned back against the wainscoting, marvelling that -with war upon them—to say nothing of the menace of the plague—the -Town should be concerned with the affairs of a playhouse wanton; and -that here, in the very temple of Bellona, Mr. Pepys of the Navy Office -should submerge in such bawdy matters the grave question of the lack of -officers and the general unpreparedness to combat either the Dutch or -the pestilence.</p> - -<p>He was still pondering that curious manifestation of the phenomenon of -the human mind, and the odd methods of government which the restored -Stuarts had brought back to England, when Mr. Pepys and his companion -came forth again, and he heard the voice of the usher calling his own -name.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Holles!”</p> - -<p>Partly because of his abstraction, partly because of the omission of -his military title, it was not until the call had been repeated that -the Colonel realized that it was addressed to himself and started up.</p> - -<p>Those who had stared askance at him on his first coming, stared again -now in resentment to see themselves passed over for this out-at-elbow -ruffler. There were some sneering laughs and nudges, and one or two -angry exclamations. But Holles paid no heed. Fortune at last had opened -a door to him. Of this the hope that he had nourished was swollen to a -certainty by one of the things he had overheard from the voluble Mr. -Pepys. Officers were needed; men of experience in the trade of arms -were scarce. Men of his own experience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> were rare, and Albemarle, who -had the dispensing of these gifts, was well acquainted with his worth. -That was the reason why he was being given precedence of all these fine -gentlemen left in the antechamber to cool their heels a while longer.</p> - -<p>Eagerly he went forward.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">HIS GRACE OF ALBEMARLE</span></h2> - -<p>At a vast writing-table placed in the middle of a lofty, sunny room, -whose windows overlooked St. James’s Park, sat George Monk, K.G., Baron -Monk of Potheridge, Beauchamp, and Tees, Earl of Torrington and Duke -of Albemarle, Master of the Horse, Commander-in-Chief, a member of His -Majesty’s Privy Council, and a Gentleman of the Bedchamber.</p> - -<p>It was a great deal for a man to be, and yet George Monk—called -a trimmer by his enemies and “honest George” by the majority of -Englishmen—might conceivably have been more. Had he so willed it, he -might have been King of England, whereby it is impossible that he could -have served his country worse than by the restoration of the Stuart -dynasty, which he preferred to effect.</p> - -<p>He was a man of middle height, powerfully built, but inclining now, in -his fifty-seventh year, to portliness. He was of a dark complexion, not -unhandsome, the strength of his mouth tempered by the gentleness of his -short-sighted eyes. His great head, covered by a heavy black periwig, -reared itself upon too short a neck from his massive shoulders.</p> - -<p>As Holles entered, he looked up, threw down his pen, and rose, but -slowly, as if weighted by hesitation or surprise. Surprise was -certainly the expression on his face as he stood there observing -the other’s swift, eager advance. No word was uttered until no more -than the table stood between them, and then it was to the usher that -Albemarle addressed himself, shortly, in dismissal.</p> - -<p>He followed the man’s withdrawal with his eyes, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> shifted them again -to his visitor until the door had closed. Then abruptly concern came to -blend with the surprise still abiding in his face, and he held out a -hand to the Colonel whom this reception had a little bewildered. Holles -bethought him that circumspection had ever been George Monk’s dominant -characteristic.</p> - -<p>“God save us, Randal! Is it really you?”</p> - -<p>“Have ten years wrought such changes that you need to ask?”</p> - -<p>“Ten years!” said the Duke slowly, a man bemused. “Ten years!” he said -again, and his gentle almost sorrowing eyes scanned his visitor from -foot to crown. His grip of the Colonel’s hand tightened a moment. Then -abruptly, as if at a loss, or perhaps to dissemble the extent to which -he was affected by this meeting, “But sit, man, sit,” he urged, waving -him to the armchair set at the table so as to face the Duke’s own.</p> - -<p>Holles sat down, hitching his sword-hilt forward, and placing his hat -upon the floor. The Duke resumed his seat with the same slowness with -which he had lately risen from it, his eyes the while upon his visitor.</p> - -<p>“How like your father you are grown!” he said at last.</p> - -<p>“That will be something gained, where all else is but a tale of loss.”</p> - -<p>“Aye! You bear it writ plain upon you,” the Duke sadly agreed, and -again there broke from him that plaintive, “God save us!”</p> - -<p>Randal Holles the elder had been Monk’s dearest friend. Both natives -of Potheridge in Devon, they had grown to manhood together. And though -political opinions then divided them—for Monk was a King’s man in -those far-off days, whilst the older Holles had gone to Parliament a -republican—yet their friendship had remained undiminished. When Monk -at last in ’46 accepted a command from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>Cromwell in the Irish service, -it was the influence of Holles which had procured both the offer and -its acceptance. Later, when Holles the younger decided for the trade of -arms, it was under the ægis of Monk that he had taken service, and it -was due as much to Monk’s friendship as to his own abilities that he -had found himself a Captain after Dunbar and a Colonel after Worcester. -Had he but chosen to continue under the guidance of his father’s -friend, he might to-day have found himself in very different case.</p> - -<p>The thought was so uppermost now in the Duke’s mind that he could not -repress its utterance.</p> - -<p>Holles sighed. “Do I not know it? But....” He broke off. “The answer -makes a weary story and a long one. By your leave, let us neglect it. -Your grace has had my letter. That is plain, since I am here. Therefore -you are acquainted with my situation.”</p> - -<p>“It grieved me, Randal, more deeply, I think, than anything I can -remember. But why did you not write sooner? Why did you come vainly -knocking at my door to be turned away by lackeys?”</p> - -<p>“I had not realized how inaccessible you are grown.”</p> - -<p>The Duke’s glance sharpened. “Do you say that bitterly?”</p> - -<p>Holles almost bounded from his seat. “Nay—on my soul! I vow I am -incapable of that, however low I may have come. What you have, you have -earned. I rejoice in your greatness as must every man who loves you.” -With mock cynicism as if to cover up any excessive emotion he might -have used, he added: “I must, since it is now my only hope. Shorn of it -I might as well cast myself from London Bridge.”</p> - -<p>The Duke considered him in silence for a moment.</p> - -<p>“We must talk,” he said presently. “There is much to say.” And, in his -abrupt fashion, he added the question: “You’ll stay to dine?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is an invitation I’d not refuse even from an enemy.”</p> - -<p>His grace tinkled a little silver bell. The usher appeared.</p> - -<p>“Who waits in the anteroom?”</p> - -<p>Came from the usher a string of names and titles, all of them -distinguished, some imposing.</p> - -<p>“Say to them with my regrets that I can receive none before I dine. Bid -those whose business presses to seek me again this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>As the usher removed himself, Holles lay back in his chair and laughed. -The Duke frowned inquiry, almost anxiously.</p> - -<p>“I am thinking of how they stared upon me, and how they’ll stare next -time we meet. Forgive me that I laugh at trifles. It is almost the only -luxury I am still able to afford.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle nodded gloomily. If he possessed a sense of humour, he very -rarely betrayed the fact, which is possibly why Mr. Pepys, who loved a -laugh, has written him down a heavy man.</p> - -<p>“Tell me now,” he invited, “what is the reason of your coming home?”</p> - -<p>“The war. Could I continue in Dutch service, even if the Dutch had -made it possible, which they did not? For the last three months it -has been impossible for an Englishman to show his face in the streets -of The Hague without being subjected to insult. If he were so rash -as to resent and punish it, he placed himself at the mercy of the -authorities, which were never reluctant to make an example of him. -That is one reason. The other is that England is in danger, that she -needs the sword of her every son, and in such a pass should be ready -to afford me employment. You need officers, I learn—experienced -officers....”</p> - -<p>“That’s true enough, God knows!” Albemarle interrupted him, on a note -of bitterness. “My anteroom is thronged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> with young men of birth who -come to me commended by the Duke of This and the Earl of That, and -sometimes by His Majesty himself, for whom I am desired to provide -commissions that will enable these graceful bawcocks to command their -betters....” He broke off, perceiving, perhaps, that his feelings were -sweeping him beyond the bounds of his usual circumspection. “But, as -you say,” he ended presently, “of experienced officers there is a sorry -lack. Yet that is not a circumstance upon which you are warranted to -build, my friend.”</p> - -<p>Holles stared blankly. “How ...?” he was beginning, when Albemarle -resumed, at once explaining his own words and answering the unspoken -question.</p> - -<p>“If you think that even in this hour of need there is no employment -for such men as you in England’s service,” he said gravely, in his -slow, deep voice, “you can have no knowledge of what has been happening -here whilst you have been abroad. In these past ten years, Randal, I -have often thought you might be dead. And I ask myself, all things -being as they are, whether as your friend I have cause, real cause, to -rejoice at seeing you alive. For life to be worth living must be lived -worthily, by which I mean it must signify the performance of the best -that is in a man. And how shall you perform your best here in this -England?”</p> - -<p>“How?” Holles was aghast. “Afford me but the occasion, and I will -show you. I have it in me still. I swear it. Test me, and you shall -not be disappointed. I’ll do you no discredit.” He had risen in his -excitement. He had even paled a little, and he stood now before the -Duke, tense, challenging, a faint quiver in the sensitive nostrils of -his fine nose.</p> - -<p>Albemarle’s phlegm was undisturbed by the vehemence. With a sallow -fleshly hand, he waved the Colonel back to his chair.</p> - -<p>“I nothing doubt it. I ask no questions of how you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> spent the -years. I can see for myself that they have been ill-spent, even without -the hints of your letter. That does not weigh with me. I know your -nature, and it is a nature I would trust. I know your talents, partly -from the early promise that you showed, partly from the opinion held -of you at one time in Holland. That surprises you, eh? Oh, but I keep -myself informed of what is happening in the world. It was Opdam, I -think, who reported you ‘<i>vir magna belli peritia</i>.’” He paused, and -sighed. “God knows I need such men as you, need them urgently; and I -would use you thankfully. But....”</p> - -<p>“But what, sir? In God’s name!”</p> - -<p>The heavy, pursed lips parted again, the raised black eyebrows resumed -their level. “I cannot do so without exposing you to the very worst of -dangers.”</p> - -<p>“Dangers?” Holles laughed.</p> - -<p>“I see that you do not understand. You do not realize that you bear a -name inscribed on a certain roll of vengeance.”</p> - -<p>“You mean my father’s?” The Colonel was incredulous.</p> - -<p>“Your father’s—aye. It is misfortunate he should have named you after -him. But there it is,” the deliberate, ponderous voice continued. “The -name of Randal Holles is on the warrant for the execution of the late -King. It would have provided a warrant for your father’s own death had -he lived long enough. Yourself you have borne arms for the Parliament -against our present sovereign. In England it is only by living in the -completest obscurity that you’ll be allowed to live at all. And you -ask me to give you a command, to expose you prominently to the public -gaze—to the royal eye and the royal memory, which in these matters is -unfading.”</p> - -<p>“But the act of indemnity?” cried Holles, aghast, seeing his high hopes -crumbling into ashes. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” Albemarle’s lip curled a little. “Where have you lived at -all that you do not know what has befallen those whom it covered?” He -smiled grimly, shaking his great black head. “Never compel from a man -a promise he is loath to give. Such promises are never kept, however -fast you may bind them in legal bonds. I wrung the promise of that bill -from His Majesty whilst he was still a throneless wanderer. Whilst he -was at Breda I concerted with him and with Clarendon that there should -be four exceptions only from that bill. Yet when, after His Majesty’s -restoration, it was prepared, it left to Parliament such exceptions -as Parliament should deem proper. I saw the intention. I pleaded; I -argued; I urged the royal promise. Finally it was agreed that the -exceptions should be increased to seven. Reluctantly I yielded, -having no longer the power effectively to oppose a king <i>de facto</i>. -Yet when the bill came before the Commons—subservient to the royal -promptings—they named twenty exceptions, and the Lords went further -by increasing the exceptions to include all who had been concerned -in the late king’s trial and sundry others who had not. And that -was a bill of indemnity! It was followed by the King’s proclamation -demanding the surrender within fourteen days of all those who had been -concerned in his father’s death. The matter was represented as a mere -formality. Most were wise enough to mistrust it, and leave the country. -But a score obeyed, conceiving that they would escape with some light -punishment.”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment, sinking back into his chair. A little smile twisted -the lips of this man who had no sense of humour.</p> - -<p>“It was announced that those who had not surrendered were excluded from -the Bill of Indemnity, whilst, as for those who having surrendered -were to be supposed included in it, a loyal jury found a true bill -against them. They were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. -Major-General Harrison was the first of them to suffer. He was -disembowelled over yonder at Charing Cross. Others followed, until the -people, nauseated by the spectacle provided daily, began to murmur. -Then a halt was called. There was a pause, at the end of which the -executioners began again. Nor were those sentenced in that year the -only ones. Others were indicted subsequently. Lambert and Vane were not -brought to trial until ’62. Nor were they the last. And it may be that -we have not reached the end even yet.”</p> - -<p>Again he paused, and again his tone changed, shedding its faint note of -bitterness.</p> - -<p>“I do not say these things—which I say for your ears alone here in -private—to censure, or even criticize, the actions of His Majesty. -It is not for a subject to question too narrowly the doings of his -King, particularly when that King is a son concerned to avenge what he -considers, rightly or wrongly, the murder of his father. I tell you all -this solely that you may understand how, despite my ardent wish to help -you, I dare not for your own sake help you in the way you desire, lest, -by bringing you, directly or indirectly, under His Majesty’s notice, I -should expose you to that vengeance which is not allowed to slumber. -Your name is Randal Holles, and....”</p> - -<p>“I could change my name,” the Colonel cried, on a sudden inspiration, -and waited breathlessly, whilst Albemarle considered.</p> - -<p>“There might still be some who knew you in the old days, who would be -but too ready to expose the deception.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take the risk of that.” Holles laughed in his eagerness, in his -reaction from the hopelessness that had been settling upon him during -Albemarle’s lengthy exposition. “I’ve lived on risks.”</p> - -<p>The Duke eyed him gravely. “And I?” he asked. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You?”</p> - -<p>“I should be a party to that deception....”</p> - -<p>“So much need not transpire. You can trust me not to allow it.”</p> - -<p>“But I should be a party none the less.” Albemarle was graver than -ever, his accents more deliberate.</p> - -<p>Slowly the lines of Holles’s face returned to their habitual grim -wistfulness.</p> - -<p>“You see?” said the Duke sadly.</p> - -<p>But Holles did not wish to see. He shifted restlessly in his chair, -swinging at last to lean across the table towards the Duke.</p> - -<p>“But surely ... at such a time ... in the hour of England’s need ... -with war impending, and experienced officers to seek ... surely, there -would be some justification for....”</p> - -<p>Again Albemarle shook his head, his face grave and sad.</p> - -<p>“There can never be justification for deceit—for falsehood.”</p> - -<p>For a long moment they faced each other thus, Holles striving the while -to keep the despair from his face. Then slowly the Colonel sank back -into his chair. A moment he brooded, his eyes upon the polished floor, -then, with a little sigh, a little shrug, a little upward throw of the -hands, he reached for the hat that lay on the floor beside him.</p> - -<p>“In that case....” He paused to swallow something that threatened to -mar the steadiness of his voice, “ ... it but remains for me to take my -leave....”</p> - -<p>“No, no.” The Duke leaned across and set a restraining hand upon his -visitor’s arm. “We part not thus, Randal.”</p> - -<p>Holles looked at him, still inwardly struggling to keep his -self-control. He smiled a little, that sad irresistible smile of his. -“You, sir, are a man overweighted with affairs; the burden of a state -at war is on your shoulders, I....”</p> - -<p>“None the less you shall stay to dine.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<p>“To dine?” said Holles, wondering where and when he should dine next, -for a disclosure of the state of his affairs must follow upon this -failure to improve them, and the luxury of the Paul’s Head could be his -no longer.</p> - -<p>“To dine, as you were bidden, and to renew acquaintance with her -grace.” Albemarle pushed back his chair, and rose. “She will be glad to -see you, I know. Come, then. The dinner hour is overpast already.”</p> - -<p>Slowly, still hesitating, Holles rose. His main desire was to be out -of this, away from Whitehall, alone with his misery. Yet in the end -he yielded, nor had occasion thereafter to regret it. Indeed, at the -outset her grace’s welcome of him warmed him.</p> - -<p>The massive, gaudy, untidy woman stared at him as he was led by -Albemarle into her presence. Then, slapping her thighs to mark her -amazement, up she bounced, and came rolling towards him.</p> - -<p>“As God’s my life, it’s Randal Holles!” she exclaimed. And hoisting -herself on tiptoe by a grip of his shoulders she resoundingly kissed -his cheek before he guessed her purpose. “It’s lucky for George he’s -brought you to excuse his lateness,” she added grimly. “Dinner’s been -standing this ten minutes, and cooling do spoil good meat. Come on. You -shall tell me at table what good fortune brings you.”</p> - -<p>She linked an arm through one of his, and led him away to their frugal -board, which Mr. Pepys—who loved the good things of this world—has -denounced as laden with dirty dishes and bad meat. It was certainly -not ducal, either in appurtenances or service. But then neither was -its hostess, nor could any human power have made her so. To the end -she was Nan Clarges, the farrier’s daughter and the farrier’s widow, -the sempstress who had been Monk’s mistress when he was a prisoner -in the Tower some twenty years ago, and whom—in an evil hour, as -was generally believed—he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> had subsequently married, to legitimize -their children. She counted few friends in the great world in which -her husband had his being, whilst those she may have counted in her -former station had long since passed beyond her ken. Therefore did she -treasure the more dearly the few—the very few—whom she had honoured -with that name. And of these was Randal Holles. Because of his deep -regard for Monk, and because of the easy good-nature that was his own, -he had in the early days of Monk’s marriage shown a proper regard for -Monk’s wife, treating with the deference due to her married station -an unfortunate woman who was smarting under the undisguised contempt -of the majority of her husband’s friends and associates. She had -cherished that deference and courtesy of Holles’s as only a woman in -her situation could, and the memory of it was ineffaceably impressed -upon her mind.</p> - -<p>Clarendon, who detested her as did so many, has damned her in a phrase: -“<i>Nihil muliebris præter corpus gerens.</i>” Clarendon did not credit her -with a heart, under her gross, untidy female form, a woman’s heart as -quick to respond to hate as to affection. Holles could have enlightened -him. But, then, they never knew each other.</p> - -<p>The trivial, unconsidered good that we may do on our way through life -is often a seed from which we may reap richly anon in the hour of our -own need.</p> - -<p>This Holles was now discovering. She plied him with questions all -through her noisy feeding, until she had drawn from him, not only the -condition of his fortunes, but the reason of his return to England, the -hopes he had nourished, and her own husband’s wrecking of those hopes. -It put her in a rage.</p> - -<p>“God’s life!” she roared at her ducal lord and master. “You would ha’ -turned him like a beggar from the door? Him—Randal!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<p>His grace, the dauntless, honest George Monk, who all his life had -trodden so firmly the path of rectitude, who feared no man, not even -excepting the King whom he had made, lowered his proud, grave eyes -before this termagant’s angry glance. He was a great soldier, as you -know. Single-handed once he had faced a mutinous regiment in Whitehall, -and quelled its insubordination by the fearless dominance of his -personality. But he went in a dread of his boisterous vulgar duchess -that was possibly greater than the dread in which any man had ever gone -of him.</p> - -<p>“You see, my love, according to my lights....” he was beginning -uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Your lights quotha!” she shrilled in scorn. “Mighty dim lights they -be, George, if you can’t see to help a friend by them.”</p> - -<p>“I might help him to the gallows,” he expostulated. “Have patience now, -and let me explain.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll need patience. God knows I shall! Well, man?”</p> - -<p>He smiled, gently, as if to show that he used gentleness from -disinclination to assert his mastery. As best he could, seeing that he -was subjected the while to a running fire of scornful interruptions, he -made clear the situation as already he had made it clear to Holles.</p> - -<p>“Lord, George!” she said, when he had finished, and her great red face -was blank. “You are growing old. You are not the man you was. You, a -kingmaker! La!” She withered him with her scorn. “Where are the wits -that helped King Charles Stuart back to his own? You wasn’t put off by -the first obstacle in they days. What would ye be without me, I ask -myself. It needs me to help ye see how ye can help a friend without -bringing him under notice of them as might do him a hurt.”</p> - -<p>“If you can do that, my dear....”</p> - -<p>“If I can? I’d ha’ my brains fried for supper if I couldn’t.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> I would -so—damme! For ’tis all they’d be good for. Is there no commands in -your bestowing but commands here at home?”</p> - -<p>His eyebrows flickered up, as if something in his mind responded to her -suggestion.</p> - -<p>“Are there no colonies to this realm of England? What of the -Indies—East and West? There’s a mort o’ them Indies, I know, whither -officers are forever being dispatched. Who’d trouble about Randal’s -name or story in one o’ they?”</p> - -<p>“Egad! ’Tis an idea!” The Duke looked at Holles, his glance -brightening. “What should you say to it, Randal?”</p> - -<p>“Is there a post for me out there?” quoth the Colonel eagerly.</p> - -<p>“At this very moment, no. But vacancies occur. Men die in those -outlandish parts, or weary of the life, or find the climate intolerable -and return. There are risks, of course, and....”</p> - -<p>Holles cut in briskly. “I have said that I have lived on risks. And -they’ll be less than those you represent as lying in wait for me here -at home. Oh, I’ll take the risks. Right gladly I’ll take the risks. -And I’ve little cause to be so wedded to the old world that I’d not -exchange it for the new.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then, we’ll see. A little patience, and it may be mine to offer -you some place abroad.”</p> - -<p>“Patience!” said Holles, his jaw fallen again.</p> - -<p>“Why, to be sure. After all, such posts do not grow like apples. Keep -me informed of where you are lodged, and I will send you word when the -occasion offers.”</p> - -<p>“And if he doesn’t send word soon do you come and see me again, -Randal,” said her grace; “we’ll quicken him. He’s well enough; but he’s -growing old, and his wits is sluggish.”</p> - -<p>And the great man, whose eye had daunted armies, smiled benignly upon -his termagant.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">CHERRY BLOSSOMS</span></h2> - -<p>Colonel Holles knelt on the window-seat at the open casement of -his parlour at the Paul’s Head. Leaning on the sill, he seemed to -contemplate the little sunlit garden with its two cherry trees on which -some of those belated blossoms lingered still. Cherry blossoms he was -contemplating, but not those before him. The two trees of this little -oasis in the City of London had multiplied themselves into a cherry -orchard set in Devon and in the years that were gone beyond reclaiming.</p> - -<p>The phenomenon was not new to him. Cherry blossoms had ever possessed -the power to move him thus. The contemplation of them never failed to -bring him the vision that was now spread before his wistful eyes. Mrs. -Quinn’s few perches of garden had dissolved into an acre of sunlit -flowering orchard. Above the trees in the background to the right a -spire thrust up into the blue, surmounted by a weather-vane in the -shape of a fish—which he vaguely knew to be an emblem of Christianity. -Through a gap on the left he beheld a wall, ivy-clad, crumbling at -its summit. Over this a lad was climbing stealthily—a long-limbed, -graceful, fair-haired stripling, whose features were recognizable for -his own if from the latter you removed the haggard lines that the years -and hard living had imprinted. Softly and nimbly as a cat he dropped -to earth on the wall’s hither side, and stood there half crouching, a -smile on his young lips and laughter in his grey eyes. He was watching -a girl who—utterly unconscious of his presence—swept to and fro -through the air on a swing that was formed of a single rope passed from -one tree to another. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<p>She was a child, no more; yet of a well-grown, lissom grace that -deceived folk into giving her more than the bare fifteen years she -counted to her age. Hers was no rose-and-lily complexion. She displayed -the healthy tan that comes of a life lived in the open far away from -cities. Yet one glance into the long-shaped, deeply blue eyes that were -the glory of her lovely little face sufficed to warn you that though -rustic she was not simple. Here was one who possessed a full share -of that feminine guile which is the heritage from Mother Eve to her -favoured daughters. If you were a man and wise, you would be most wary -when she was most demure.</p> - -<p>Swinging now, her loosened brown hair streamed behind her as she flew -forward, and tossed itself into a cloud about her face as she went -back. And she sang as nearly as possible in rhythm with her swinging:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“Hey, young love! Ho, young love!</div> -<div class="i1">Where do you tarry?</div> -<div>Whiles here I stay for you</div> -<div class="i1">Waiting to marry.</div> -<div>Hey, young love! Ho, young....”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The song ended in a scream. Unheard, unsuspected, the stripling had -crept forward through the trees. At the top of her backward swing -he had caught her about the waist in his strong young arms. There -was a momentary flutter of two black legs amid an agitated cloud of -petticoat, then the rope swung forward, and the nymph was left in the -arms of her young satyr. But only for a moment. Out of that grip she -broke in a fury—real or pretended—and came to earth breathless, with -flushed cheeks and flashing eye.</p> - -<p>“You give yourself strange liberties, young Randal,” said she, and -boxed his ears. “Who bade you here?”</p> - -<p>“I ... I thought you called me,” said he, grinning, no whit abashed by -either blow or look. “Come, now, Nan. Confess it!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I called you? I?” She laughed indignantly. “’Tis very likely! Oh, very -likely!”</p> - -<p>“You’ll deny it, of course, being a woman in the making. But I heard -you.” And he quoted for her, singing:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“Hey, young love! Ho, young love!</div> -<div>Where do you tarry?”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>“I was hiding on the other side of the wall. I came at once. And all -I get for my pains and the risk to a fairly new pair of breeches is a -blow and a denial.”</p> - -<p>“You may get more if you remain.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so. I had not come else.”</p> - -<p>“But it’ll be as little to your liking.”</p> - -<p>“That’s as may be. Meanwhile there’s this matter of a blow. Now a blow -is a thing I take from nobody. For a man there is my sword....”</p> - -<p>“Your sword!” She abandoned herself to laughter. “And you don’t even -own a penknife.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes I do. I own a sword. It was a gift from my father to-day—a -birthday gift. I am nineteen to-day, Nan.”</p> - -<p>“How fast you grow! You’ll be a man soon. And so your father has given -you a sword?” She leaned against the bole of a tree, and surveyed him -archly. “That was very rash of your father. You’ll be cutting yourself, -I know.”</p> - -<p>He smiled, but with a little less of his earlier assurance. But he made -a fair recovery.</p> - -<p>“You are straying from the point.”</p> - -<p>“The point of your sword, sweet sir?”</p> - -<p>“The point of my discourse. It was concerning this matter of a blow. If -you were a man I am afraid I should have to kill you. My honour would -demand no less.”</p> - -<p>“With your sword?” she asked him innocently.</p> - -<p>“With my sword, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Ugh. Jack the Giant-Killer in a cherry orchard! You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> must see you are -out of place here. Get you gone, boy. I don’t think I ever liked you, -Randal. Now I’m sure of it. You’re a bloody-minded fellow for all your -tender years. What you’ll be when you’re a man ... I daren’t think.”</p> - -<p>He swallowed the taunt.</p> - -<p>“And what you’ll be when you’re a woman is the thing I delight in -thinking. We’ll return to that. Meanwhile, this blow....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re tiresome.”</p> - -<p>“You delay me. That is why. What I would do to a man who struck me I -have told you.”</p> - -<p>“But you can’t think I believe you.”</p> - -<p>This time he was not to be turned aside.</p> - -<p>“The real question is what to do to a woman.” He approached her. “When -I look at you, one punishment only seems possible.”</p> - -<p>He took her by the shoulders in a grip of a surprising firmness. There -was sudden alarm in those eyes of hers that hitherto had been so -mocking.</p> - -<p>“Randal!” she cried out, guessing his purpose.</p> - -<p>Undeterred he accomplished it. Having kissed her, he loosed his hold, -and stood back for the explosion which from his knowledge of her he -was led to expect. But no explosion came. She stood limply before him, -all the raillery gone out of her, whilst slowly the colour faded from -her cheeks. Then it came flowing back in an all-suffusing flood, and -there was a pathetic quiver at the corners of her mouth, a suspicious -brightness in her drooping eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why, Nan!” he cried, alarmed by phenomena so unexpected and unusual.</p> - -<p>“Oh, why did you do that?” she cried on a sob.</p> - -<p>Here was meekness! Had she boxed his ears again, it would have -surprised him not at all. Indeed, it is what he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> looked for. But -that she should be stricken so spiritless, that she should have no -reproof for him beyond that plaintive question, left him agape with -amazement. It occurred to him that perhaps he had found the way to -tame her; and he regretted on every count that he should not have -had recourse before to a method so entirely satisfactory to himself. -Meanwhile her question craved an answer.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been wanting to do it this twelvemonth,” said he simply. “And I -shall want to do it again. Nan, dear, don’t you know how much I love -you? Don’t you know without my telling you? Don’t you?”</p> - -<p>The fervent question chased away her trouble and summoned surprise to -fill its place. A moment she stared at him, and her glance hardened. -She began to show signs of recovery.</p> - -<p>“The declaration should have preceded the ... the ... affront.”</p> - -<p>“Affront!” he cried, in protest.</p> - -<p>“What else? Isn’t it an affront to kiss a maid without a by-your-leave? -If you were a man, I shouldn’t forgive you. I couldn’t. But as you’re -just a boy”—her tone soared to disdainful heights—“you shall be -forgiven on a promise that the offence is not to be repeated.”</p> - -<p>“But I love you, Nan! I’ve said so,” he expostulated.</p> - -<p>“You’re too precocious, young Randal. It comes, I suppose, of being -given a sword to play with. I shall have to speak to your father about -it. You need manners more than a sword at present.”</p> - -<p>The minx was skilled in the art of punishing. But the lad refused to be -put out of countenance.</p> - -<p>“Nan, dear, I am asking you to marry me.”</p> - -<p>She jumped at that. Her eyes dilated. “Lord!” she said. “What -condescension! But d’you think I want a child tied to my -apron-strings?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Won’t you be serious, Nan?” he pleaded. “I am very serious.”</p> - -<p>“You must be, to be thinking of marriage.”</p> - -<p>“I am going away, Nan—to-morrow, very early. I came to say good-bye.”</p> - -<p>Her eyelids flickered, and in that moment a discerning glance would -have detected a gleam of alarm from her blue eyes. But there was no -hint of it in her voice.</p> - -<p>“I thought you said it was to marry me you came.”</p> - -<p>“Why will you be teasing me? It means so much to me, Nan. I want you to -say that you’ll wait for me; that you’ll marry me some day.”</p> - -<p>He was very close to her. She looked up at him a little breathlessly. -Her feminine intuitions warned her that he was about to take a liberty; -feminine perversity prompted her to frustrate the intention, although -it was one that in her heart she knew would gladden her.</p> - -<p>“Some day?” she mocked him. “When you’re grown up, I suppose? Why, I’ll -be an old maid by then; and I don’t think I want to be an old maid.”</p> - -<p>“Answer me, Nan. Don’t rally me. Say that you’ll wait.”</p> - -<p>He would have caught her by the shoulders again. But she eluded those -eager hands of his.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t told me yet where you are going.”</p> - -<p>Gravely he flung the bombshell of his news, confident that it must lend -him a new importance in her eyes, and thus, perhaps, bring her into -something approaching subjection.</p> - -<p>“I am going to London, to the army. My father has procured me a -cornetcy of horse, and I am to serve under General Monk, who is his -friend.”</p> - -<p>It made an impression, though she did not give him the satisfaction -of seeing how great that impression was. To do her justice, the army -meant no more to her just at that moment than champing horses, blaring -trumpets, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>waving banners. Of its grimmer side she took as yet -no thought: else she might have given his news a graver greeting. As -it was, the surprise of it left her silent, staring at him in a new -wonder. He took advantage of it to approach her again. He committed the -mistake of attempting to force the pace. He caught her to him, taking -her unawares this time and seizing her suddenly, before she could elude -him.</p> - -<p>“Nan, my dear!”</p> - -<p>She struggled in his arms. But he held her firmly. She struggled the -harder, and, finding her struggles ineffective, her temper rose. Her -hands against his breast she thrust him back.</p> - -<p>“Release me at once! Release me, or I’ll scream!”</p> - -<p>At that and the anger in her voice, he let her go, and stood -sheepishly, abashed, whilst she retreated a few paces from him, -breathing quickly, her eyes aflash.</p> - -<p>“My faith! You’ll be a great success in London! They’ll like your -oafish ways up yonder. I think you had better go.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, Nan!” He was in a passion of penitence, fearing that this -time he had gone too far and angered her in earnest. “Ah, don’t be -cruel. It is our last day together for Heaven knows how long.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s a mercy.”</p> - -<p>“Ye don’t mean that, Nan? Ye can’t mean that ye care nothing about me. -That you are glad I’m going.”</p> - -<p>“You should mend your manners,” she reproved him by way of compromise.</p> - -<p>“Why, so I will. It’s only that I want you so; that I’m going away—far -away; that after to-day I won’t see you again maybe for years. If ye -say that ye don’t care for me at all, why, then I don’t think that I’ll -come back to Potheridge ever. But if ye care—be it never so little, -Nan—if you’ll wait for me, it’ll send me away with a good heart, -it’ll give me strength to become great. I’ll conquer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> world for -you, my dear,” he ended grandiloquently, as is the way of youth in its -unbounded confidence. “I’ll bring it back to toss it in your lap.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes were shining. His devotion and enthusiasm touched her. But her -mischievous perversity must be dissembling it. She laughed on a rising -inflection that was faintly mocking.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t know what to do with it,” said she.</p> - -<p>That and her laughter angered him. He had opened his heart. He had been -boastful in his enthusiasm, he had magnified himself and felt himself -shrinking again under the acid of her derision. He put on a sudden -frosty dignity.</p> - -<p>“You may laugh, but there’ll come a day maybe when you won’t laugh. You -may be sorry when I come back.”</p> - -<p>“Bringing the world with you,” she mocked him.</p> - -<p>He looked at her almost savagely, white-faced. Then in silence he swung -on his heel and went off through the trees. Six paces he had taken -when he came face to face with an elderly, grave-faced gentleman in -the clerkly attire of a churchman, who was pacing slowly reading in a -book. The parson raised his eyes. They were long-shaped blue eyes like -Nancy’s, but kindlier in their glance.</p> - -<p>“Why, Randal!” he hailed the boy who was almost hurtling into him, -being half-blinded by his unshed tears.</p> - -<p>The youth commanded himself.</p> - -<p>“Give you good-morning, Mr. Sylvester. I ... I but came to say -good-bye....”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, my boy. Your father told me....”</p> - -<p>Through the trees came the girl’s teasing voice.</p> - -<p>“You are detaining the gentleman, father, and he is in haste. He is off -to conquer the world.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Sylvester raised his heavy grey eyebrows a little; the shadow of a -smile hovered about the corners of his kindly mouth, his eyes looked a -question, humorously. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<p>Randal shrugged. “Nancy is gay at my departure, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay.”</p> - -<p>“It affords her amusement, as you perceive, sir. She is pleased to -laugh.”</p> - -<p>“Tush, tush!” The parson turned, took his arm affectionately, and moved -along with him towards the house. “A mask on her concern,” he murmured. -“Women are like that. It takes a deal of learning to understand a -woman; and I doubt, in the end, if the time is well spent. But I’ll -answer for it that she’ll have a warm welcome for you on your return, -whether you’ve conquered the world or not. So shall we all, my boy. You -go to serve in a great cause. God bring you safely home again.”</p> - -<p>But Randal took no comfort, and parted from Mr. Sylvester vowing in his -heart that he would return no more betide what might.</p> - -<p>Yet before he quitted Potheridge he had proof that Mr. Sylvester was -right. It was in vain that day that Nancy awaited his return. And that -night there were tears on her pillow, some of vexation, but some of -real grief at the going of Randal.</p> - -<p>Very early next morning, before the village was astir, Randal rode -forth upon the conquest of the world, fortified by a tolerably heavy -purse, and that brand-new sword—the gifts which had accompanied his -father’s blessing. As he rode along by the wall above which the cherry -blossoms flaunted, towards the grey rectory that fronted immediately -upon the road, a lattice was pushed open overhead, and the head and -shoulders of Nancy were protruded.</p> - -<p>“Randal!” she softly called him, as he came abreast.</p> - -<p>He reined in his horse and looked up. His rancour melted instantly. He -was conscious of the quickening of his pulses.</p> - -<p>“Nan!” His whole soul was in his utterance of the name.</p> - -<p>“I ... I am sorry I laughed, Randal, dear. I wasn’t <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>really gay. I have -cried since. I have stayed awake all night not to miss you now.” This -was hardly true, but it is very likely she believed it. “I wanted to -say good-bye and God keep you, Randal, dear, and ... and ... come back -to me soon again.”</p> - -<p>“Nan!” he cried again. It was all that he could say; but he said it -with singular eloquence.</p> - -<p>Something slapped softly down upon the withers of his horse. His hand -shot out to clutch it ere it fell thence, and he found himself holding -a little tasselled glove.</p> - -<p>There was a little scream from above. “My glove!” she cried. “I’ve -dropped it. Randal, please!” She was leaning far out, reaching down a -beseeching hand. But she was still too far above him to render possible -the glove’s return. Besides, this time she did not deceive him with her -comedy. He took off his hat, and passed the glove through the band.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wear it as a favour till I come to claim the hand it has -covered,” he told her in a sort of exaltation. He kissed the glove, -bowed low, covered himself with a flourish, and touched the horse with -his spurs.</p> - -<p>As he rode away her voice floated after him, faintly mocking, yet with -a choking quaver that betrayed her secret tears.</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget to bring the world back with you.”</p> - -<p>And that was the last of her voice that he had ever heard.</p> - -<p>Five years passed before the day when next he came to Potheridge. Again -the cherry trees were in blossom; again he saw them, tossed by the -breeze, above the grey wall of the rectory orchard, as he rode forward -with high-beating heart, a lackey trotting at his heels.</p> - -<p>The elder Holles, who had removed himself permanently to London shortly -after his son’s going to Monk, had been dead these two years. If Randal -had not accomplished his proud boast of conquering the world, at least -he had won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> himself an important place in it, a fine position in the -army, that should be a stepping-stone to greater things. He was the -youngest colonel in the service, thanks to his own talents as well as -to Monk’s favour—for Monk could never so have favoured him had he not -been worthy and so proved himself—a man of mark, of whom a deal was -expected by all who knew him. All this he now bore written plainly upon -him: his air of authority; his rich dress; the handsome furniture of -his splendid horse; the servant following; all advertised the man of -consequence. And he was proud of it all for the sake of her who had -been his inspiration. From his heart he thanked God for these things, -since he might offer them to her.</p> - -<p>What would she look like, he wondered, as he rode amain, his face -alight and eager. It was three years since last he had heard from her; -but that was natural enough, for the constant movements demanded by his -soldier’s life made it impossible that letters should reach him often. -To her he had written frequently. But one letter only had he received -in all those years, and that was long ago, written to him after Dunbar -in answer to his announcement that he had won himself a captaincy and -so advanced a stage in his conquest of the world.</p> - -<p>How would she greet him now? How would she look at him? What would be -her first word? He thought that it would be his name. He hoped it might -be; for in her utterance of it he would read all he sought to know.</p> - -<p>They came to a clattering halt at the rectory door. He flung down from -the saddle without waiting for his groom’s assistance, and creaked and -clanked across the cobbles to rattle on the oak with the butt of his -riding-whip.</p> - -<p>The door swung inwards. Before him, startled of glance, stood a lean -old crone who in nothing resembled the corpulent Mathilda who had -kept the rector’s house of old. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> stared at her, some of the glad -eagerness perishing in his face.</p> - -<p>“The ... the rector?” quoth he, faltering. “Is he at home?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, he be in,” she mumbled, mistrustfully eyeing his imposing figure. -“Do ee bide a moment, whiles I calls him.” She vanished into the gloom -of the hall, whence her voice reached him, calling: “Master! Master! -Here be stranger!”</p> - -<p>A stranger! O God! Here all was not as it should be.</p> - -<p>Came a quick, youthful step, and a moment later a young man advanced -from the gloom. He was tall, comely, and golden-haired; he wore clerkly -black and the Geneva bands of a cleric.</p> - -<p>“You desired to see me, sir?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>Randal Holles stood looking at him, speechless for a long moment, -dumbfounded. He moistened his lips at last, and spoke.</p> - -<p>“It was Mr. Sylvester whom I desired to see, sir,” he answered. “Tell -me”—and in his eagerness he was so unmannerly as to clutch the unknown -parson’s arm—“where is he? Is he no longer here?”</p> - -<p>“No,” was the gentle answer. “I have succeeded him.” The young cleric -paused. “Mr. Sylvester has been with God these three years.”</p> - -<p>Holles commanded himself. “This is bad news to me, sir. He was an old -friend. And his daughter ... Miss Nancy? Where is she?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell you, sir. She had departed from Potheridge before I -came.”</p> - -<p>“But whither did she go? Whither?” In a sudden frenzy he shook the -other’s arm.</p> - -<p>The cleric suffered it in silence, realizing the man’s sudden -distraction. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That, sir, I do not know. I never heard. You see, sir, I had not the -acquaintance of Miss Sylvester. Perhaps the squire....”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye! The squire!”</p> - -<p>To the squire’s he went, and burst in upon him at table in the hall. -Squire Haynes, corpulent and elderly, heaved himself up at the -intrusion of this splendid stranger.</p> - -<p>“God in Heaven!” he cried in amazement. “It’s young Randal Holles! -Alive!”</p> - -<p>It transpired that the report had run through Potheridge that Randal -had been killed at Worcester. That would be at about the time Mr. -Sylvester died, and his daughter had left the village shortly -thereafter. At another season and in other circumstances Holles might -have smiled at the vanity which had led him to suppose his name famous -throughout the land. Here to his native Potheridge no echo of that fame -had penetrated. He had been reported dead and no subsequent deed of his -had come to deny that rumour in this village that was the one spot in -all England where men should take an interest in his doings.</p> - -<p>Later, indeed, he may have pondered it, and derived from it a salutary -lesson in the bridling of conceit. But at the moment his only thought -was of Nancy. Was it known whither she had gone?</p> - -<p>The squire had heard tell at the time; but he had since forgotten; a -parson’s daughter was no great matter. In vain he made an effort of -memory for Randal’s sake and upon Randal’s urging. Then he bethought -him that perhaps his housekeeper could say. Women retained these -trivial matters in their memories. Summoned, the woman was found to -remember perfectly. Nancy had gone to Charmouth to the care of a -married aunt, a sister of her father’s, her only remaining relative. -The aunt’s name was Tenfil, an odd name. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<p>To his dying day Randal would remember that instant ride to Charmouth, -his mental anxiety numbing all sense of fatigue, followed by a lackey -who at intervals dozed in his saddle, then woke to grumble and complain.</p> - -<p>In the end half dead with weariness, yet quickened ever by suspense, -they came to Charmouth, and they found the house of Tenfil, and the -aunt; but they found no Nancy.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Tenfil, an elderly, hard-faced, hard-hearted woman, all piety and -no charity, one of those creatures who make of religion a vice for -their own assured damnation, unbent a little from her natural sourness -before the handsome, elegant young stranger. She was still a woman -under the ashes of her years and of her bigotry. But at the mention of -her niece’s name the sourness and the hardness came back to her face -with interest.</p> - -<p>“A creature without godliness. My brother was ever a weak man, and he -ruined her with kindness. It was a mercy he died before he came to know -the impiety of his offspring—a wilful, headstrong, worldly minx.”</p> - -<p>“Madam, it is not her character I seek of you; but her whereabouts,” -said the exasperated Randal.</p> - -<p>She considered him in a new light. In the elegance and good looks, -which had at first commended him, she now beheld the devil’s seal of -worldliness. Such a man would seek her niece for no good purpose; -yet he was just such a man as her niece, to her undoing, would make -welcome. Her lips tightened with saintly, uncharitable purpose. -She would make of herself a buckler between this malignant one and -her niece. By great good fortune—by a heavenly Providence, in her -eyes—her niece was absent at the time. And so in the cause of holiness -she lied to him—although of this the poor fellow had no suspicion.</p> - -<p>“In that case, young sir, you seek something I cannot give you.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> - -<p>She would have left it vaguely there, between truth and untruth. But he -demanded more.</p> - -<p>“You mean, you do not know ... that ... that she has left you?”</p> - -<p>She braced herself to the righteous falsehood.</p> - -<p>“That is what I mean.”</p> - -<p>Still he would not rest content. Haggard-faced he drove her into the -last ditch of untruth.</p> - -<p>“When did she leave you? Tell me that, at least.”</p> - -<p>“Two years ago. After she had been with me a year.”</p> - -<p>“And whither did she go? You must know that!”</p> - -<p>“I do not. All that I know is that she went. Belike she is in London. -That, at least, I know is where she would wish to be, being all -worldliness and ungodliness.”</p> - -<p>He stared at her, a physical sickness oppressing him. His little Nan -in London, alone and friendless, without means. What might not have -happened to her in two years?</p> - -<p>“Madam,” he said in a voice that passion and sorrow made unsteady, “if -you drove her hence, as your manner seems to tell me, be sure that God -will punish you.”</p> - -<p>And he reeled out without waiting for her answer.</p> - -<p>Inquiries in the village might have altered the whole course of his -life. But, as if the unutterable gods of Mrs. Tenfil’s devotions -removed all chances of the frustration of her ends, Randal rode out of -Charmouth without having spoken to another soul. To what end should -he have done so, considering her tale? What reason could he have to -disbelieve?</p> - -<p>For six months after that he sought Nancy in all places likely -and unlikely. And all that while in Charmouth Nancy patiently and -trustfully awaited his coming, which should deliver her from the -dreadful thraldom of Aunt Tenfil’s godliness. Some day, she was -persuaded, must happen that which she did not know had already -happened; that he must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> seek her in Potheridge, learn whither she was -gone, and follow. For she did not share Potheridge’s belief that he -was dead, though for a time she had mourned him grievously when first -the rumour ran through her native village. Subsequently, however, soon -after her migration to Charmouth, a letter from him had reached her -there, written some months after Worcester fight, in which he announced -himself not only safe and sound, but thriving, conquering the world -apace, and counting upon returning laden with it soon, to claim her.</p> - -<p>And meanwhile despair was settling upon young Randal. To have lived -and striven with but one inspiration and one aim, and to find in the -hour of triumph that the aim has been rendered unattainable, is to know -one’s self for Fortune’s fool. To a loyal soul such as his the blow was -crushing. It made life purposeless, robbed him of ambition and warped -his whole nature. His steadfastness was transmuted into recklessness -and restlessness. He required distraction from his brooding; the career -of arms at home, in time of peace, could offer him none of this. He -quitted the service of the Parliament, and went abroad—to Holland, -that happy hunting-ground of all homeless adventurers. He entered Dutch -service, and for a season prospered in it. But there was a difference, -deplorable and grim. He was no longer concerned to build himself a -position in the State. Such a thing was impossible in a foreign land, -where he was a mercenary, a soldier of fortune, a man who made of arms -a trade soulless and uninspired. With the mantle of the mercenary he -put on a mercenary’s habits. His easily earned gold he spent riotously, -prodigally, as was ever the mercenary’s way. He gamed and drank and -squandered it on worthless women.</p> - -<p>He grew notorious; a man of reckless courage, holding his life cheap, -an able leader of men, but a dissolute, hard-drinking, quarrelsome -Englander whom it was not safe to trust too far. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> - -<p>The reaction set in at last; but not until five years of this life had -corroded his soul. It came to him one day when he realized that he was -over thirty, that he had dissipated his youth, and that the path he -trod must lead him ultimately to a contemptible old age. Some of the -good that slumbered in the depths of his soul welled up to cry a halt. -He would go back. Physically and morally he would retrace his steps. He -would seize this life that was slipping from him, and remould it to the -original intention. For that he would return to England.</p> - -<p>He wrote to Monk, who then was the powerfullest man in the realm. -But—Fortune’s fool again—he wrote just too late. The restoration was -accomplished. It was a few weeks old, no more. For one who had been a -prominent Parliament man in the old days, and the son of a Parliament -man still more prominent, there was no place by then in English -service. Had he but made the application some months sooner, whilst the -restoration was still in the balance, and had he then taken sides with -Monk in bringing it about, he might by that very act have redeemed the -past in Stuart eyes, setting up a credit to cancel the old debt.</p> - -<p>The rest you guess. He sank thereafter deeper into his old habits, -rendering himself ever more unfit for any great position, and so -continued for five horrid years that seemed to him in retrospect an -age. Then came the war, and England’s unspoken summons to every son of -hers who trailed a sword abroad. Dutch service could no longer hold -him. This was his opportunity. At last he would shake off the filth of -a mercenary’s life, and go boldly home to find worthy employment for -his sword.</p> - -<p>Yet, but for the scheming credit accorded him by a tavern-keeper and -the interest of a vulgar old woman who had cause to hold him in kindly -memory, he might by now have been sent back, to tread once more the -path to hell.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">THE MERCENARY</span></h2> - -<p>Colonel Holles took the air in Paul’s Yard, drawn forth partly by the -voice of a preacher on the steps of Paul’s, who was attracting a crowd -about him, partly by his own restlessness. It was now three days since -his visit to the Cockpit, and although he could not reasonably have -expected news from Albemarle within so short a time, yet the lack of it -was fretting him.</p> - -<p>He was moving along the skirts of the crowd that had collected before -the preacher, with no intention of pausing, when suddenly a phrase -arrested him.</p> - -<p>“Repent, I say, while it is time! For behold the wrath of the Lord is -upon you. The scourge of pestilence is raised to smite you down.”</p> - -<p>Holles looked over the heads of the assembled citizens, and beheld a -black crow of a man, cadaverous of face, with sunken eyes that glowed -uncannily from the depths of their sockets.</p> - -<p>“Repent!” the voice croaked. “Awaken! Behold your peril, and by prayer -and reparation set yourselves to avert it whiles yet it may be time. -Within the Parish of St. Giles this week lie thirty dead of this dread -pestilence, ten in St. Clement’s, and as many in St. Andrew’s, Holborn. -These are but warnings. Slowly but surely the plague is creeping upon -the city. As Sodom of old was destroyed, so shall this modern Sodom -perish, unless you rouse yourselves, and cast out the evil that is -amongst you.”</p> - -<p>The crowd was in the main irreverently disposed. There was some -laughter, and one shrill, persistent voice that derided him. The -preacher paused. He seemed to lengthen before them, as he raised his -arms to Heaven. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - -<p>“They laugh! Deriders, scoffers, will you not be warned? Oh, the great, -the dreadful God! His vengeance is upon you, and you laugh. Thou hast -defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine iniquities, by the -iniquity of thy traffic. Therefore I will bring forth a fire from the -midst of thee, and I will burn thee to ashes upon the earth in the -sight of all them that behold thee.”</p> - -<p>Holles moved on. He had heard odd allusions to this pestilence which -was said to be making victims in the outskirts and which it was alleged -by some fools was a weapon of warfare wielded by the Dutch—at least, -that it was the Dutch who had let it loose in England. But he had paid -little heed to the matter, knowing that scaremongers are never lacking. -Apparently the citizens of London were of his own way of thinking, if -he might judge by the indifferent success attending the hoarse rantings -of that preacher of doom.</p> - -<p>As he moved on, a man of handsome presence and soldierly bearing, with -the dress and air of a gentleman, considered him intently with eyes of -startled wonder. As Holles came abreast of him, he suddenly stepped -forward, detaching from the crowd, and caught the Colonel by the arm. -Holles checked, and turned to find himself gravely regarded by this -stranger.</p> - -<p>“Either you are Randal Holles, or else the devil in his shape.”</p> - -<p>Then Holles knew him—a ghost out of his past, as he was, himself, a -ghost out of the past of this other; an old friend, a brother-in-arms -of the days of Worcester and Dunbar.</p> - -<p>“Tucker!” he cried, “Ned Tucker!” And impulsively, his face alight, he -held out his hand.</p> - -<p>The other gripped it firmly.</p> - -<p>“I must have known you anywhere, Randal, despite the change that time -has wrought.”</p> - -<p>“It has wrought changes in yourself as well. But you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> would seem to -have prospered!” The Colonel’s face was rejuvenated by a look of almost -boyish pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am well enough,” said Tucker. “And you?”</p> - -<p>“As you see.”</p> - -<p>The other’s grave dark eyes considered him. There fell a silence, an -awkward pause between those two, each of whom desired to ask a hundred -questions. At last:</p> - -<p>“I last heard of you in Holland,” said Tucker.</p> - -<p>“I am but newly home.”</p> - -<p>The other’s eyebrows went up, a manifestation of surprise.</p> - -<p>“Whatever can have brought you?”</p> - -<p>“The war, and the desire to find employment in which I may serve my -country.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ve found it?” The smile on the dark face suggested a scornful -doubt which almost made an answer unnecessary.</p> - -<p>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p>“It would have moved my wonder if you had. It was a rashness to have -returned at all.” He lowered his voice, lest he should be overheard. -“The climate of England isn’t healthy at all to old soldiers of the -Parliament.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you are here, Ned.”</p> - -<p>“I?” Again that slow, half-scornful smile lighted the grave, handsome -face. He shrugged. He leaned towards Holles, and dropped his voice -still further. “My father was not a regicide,” he said quietly. -“Therefore, I am comparatively obscure.”</p> - -<p>Holles looked at him, the eager pleasure which the meeting had brought -him withering in his face. Would men ever keep green the memory of this -thing and of the silly tie with which they had garnished it? Must it -ever prove an insuperable obstacle to him in Stuart England?</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, never look so glum, man,” Tucker laughed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> and he took the -Colonel by the arm. “Let us go somewhere where we can talk. We should -have a deal to tell each other.”</p> - -<p>Holles swung him round.</p> - -<p>“Come to the Paul’s Head,” he bade him. “I am lodged there.”</p> - -<p>But the other hung back, hesitating a moment. “My own lodging is near -at hand in Cheapside,” he said, and they turned about again.</p> - -<p>In silence they moved off together. At the corner of Paul’s Yard, -Tucker paused, and turned to look across at the doorway of Paul’s and -the fanatical preacher who stood there shrilling. His voice floated -across to them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the great and the dreadful God!”</p> - -<p>Tucker’s face set into grimly sardonic lines. “An eloquent fellow, -that,” he said. “He should rouse these silly sheep from their apathy.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel stared at him, puzzled. There seemed to be an ulterior -meaning to his words. But Tucker, without adding anything further, drew -him away and on.</p> - -<p>In a handsome room on the first floor of one of the most imposing -houses in Cheapside, Tucker waved his guest to the best chair.</p> - -<p>“An old friend, just met by chance,” he explained to his housekeeper, -who came to wait upon him. “So it will be a bottle of sack ... of the -best!”</p> - -<p>When, having brought the wine, the woman had taken herself off and the -two sat within closed doors, the Colonel gave his friend the account of -himself which the latter craved.</p> - -<p>Gravely Tucker heard him through, and grave his face remained when -the tale was done. He sighed, and considered the Colonel a moment in -silence with sombre eyes.</p> - -<p>“So George Monk’s your only hope?” he said, slowly, at last. Then he -uttered a short, sharp laugh of infinite scorn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> “In your case I think -I’d hang myself and have done. It’s less tormenting.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“You think that Monk will really help you? That he intends to help?”</p> - -<p>“Assuredly. He has promised it, and he was my friend—and my father’s -friend.”</p> - -<p>“Friend!” said the other bitterly. “I never knew a trimmer to be -any man’s friend but his own. And if ever a trimmer lived, his name -is George Monk—the very prince of trimmers, as his whole life -shows. First a King’s man; then something betwixt and between King -and Parliament; then a Parliament man, selling his friends of the -King’s side. And lastly a King’s man again, in opposition to his late -trusting friends of the Parliament. Always choosing the side that is -uppermost or that can outbid the other for his services. And look -where he stands; Baron of this, Earl of that, Duke of Albemarle, -Commander-in-Chief, Master of the Horse, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, -and God knows what else. Oh, he has grown fat on trimming.”</p> - -<p>“You do him wrong, Ned.” Holles was mildly indignant.</p> - -<p>“That is impossible.”</p> - -<p>“But you do. You forget that a man may change sides from conviction.”</p> - -<p>“Especially when it is to his own profit,” sneered Tucker.</p> - -<p>“That is ungenerous, and it is untrue, of course.” The Colonel showed -signs of loyal heat. “You are wrong also in your other assumption. He -would have given me all the help I needed, but that....”</p> - -<p>“But that he counted the slight risk—nay; what am I saying?—the -slight inconvenience to himself should any questions afterwards be -asked. He could have averted in such a case all awkwardness by pleading -ignorance to your past....” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He is too honest to do that.”</p> - -<p>“Honest! Aye—‘honest George Monk’! Usually misfortune schools a man -in worldly wisdom. But you....” Tucker smiled between contempt and -sadness, leaving the phrase unfinished.</p> - -<p>“I have told you that he will help me; that he has promised.”</p> - -<p>“And you build upon his promises? Promises! They cost nothing. They -are the bribes with which a trimmer puts off the importunate. Monk saw -your need, as I see it. You carry the marks of it plainly upon you, -in every seam of your threadbare coat. Forgive the allusion, Randal!” -He set a conciliatory hand upon his friend’s arm, for the Colonel had -reddened resentfully at the words. “I make it to justify myself of what -I say.” And he resumed: “Monk’s revenues amount to thirty thousand -pounds a year—such are the vails of trimmers. He was your friend, you -say; he was your father’s friend, and owed much to your father, as all -know. Did he offer you his purse to tide you over present stress, until -opportunity permits him to fulfil his promise? Did he?”</p> - -<p>“I could not have taken advantage of it if he had.”</p> - -<p>“That is not what I ask you. Did he offer it? Of course he did not. Not -he. Yet would not a friend have helped you at once and where he could?”</p> - -<p>“He did not think of it.”</p> - -<p>“A friend would have thought of it. But Monk is no man’s friend.”</p> - -<p>“I say again, you are unjust to him. You forget that, after all, he was -under no necessity to promise anything.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, he was. There was his Duchess, as you’ve told me. Dirty Bess -can be importunate, and she commands him. He goes notoriously in terror -of her. Yielding to her importunities he promised that which he will -avoid fulfilling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> I know George Monk, and all his leprous kind, of -which this England is full to-day, battening upon her carcase with the -foul greed of vultures. I....”</p> - -<p>He grew conscious that Colonel Holles was staring at him, amazed by his -sudden vehemence. He checked abruptly, and laughed.</p> - -<p>“I grow hot for nothing at all. Nay, not for nothing—for you, old -friend, and against those who put this deception upon you. You should -not have come back to England, Randal. But since you’re here, at least -do not woo disappointment by nourishing your hopes on empty promises.” -He raised his glass to the light, and looked at the Colonel solemnly -across the top of it. “I drink to your better fortune, Randal.”</p> - -<p>Mechanically, without answering a word, the Colonel drank with him. His -heart was turned to lead. The portrait Tucker had so swiftly painted of -Monk’s soul was painted obviously with a hostile, bitter brush. Yet the -facts of Monk’s life made it plausible. The likeness was undeniable, if -distorted. And Holles—rendered pessimistic and despondent by his very -condition—saw the likeness and not the distortion.</p> - -<p>“If you are right,” he said slowly, his eyes upon the table, “I may as -well take your advice, and hang myself.”</p> - -<p>“Almost the only thing left for a self-respecting man in England,” said -Tucker.</p> - -<p>“Or anywhere else, for that matter. But why so bitter about England in -particular?”</p> - -<p>Tucker shrugged. “You know my sentiments, what they always were. I am -no trimmer. I sail a steady course.”</p> - -<p>Holles regarded him searchingly. He could not misunderstand the man’s -words, still less his tone.</p> - -<p>“Is that not.... Is it not a dangerous course?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Tucker looked at him with wistful amusement. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There are considerations an honest man should set above danger.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, agreed.”</p> - -<p>“There is no honesty save in steadfastness, Randal, and I am, I hope, -an honest man.”</p> - -<p>“By which you mean that I am not,” said Holles slowly.</p> - -<p>Tucker did not contradict him by more than a shrug and a deprecatory -smile that was of mere politeness. The Colonel rose, stirred to -vehemence by his friend’s manifest opinion of him.</p> - -<p>“I am a beggar, Ned; and beggars may not choose. Besides, for ten years -now I have been a mercenary, neither more nor less. My sword is for -hire. That is the trade by which I live. I do not make governments; I -do not plague myself with questions of their worth; I serve them, for -gold.”</p> - -<p>But Tucker, smiling sadly, slowly shook his head.</p> - -<p>“If that were true, you would not be in England now. You came, as -you have said, because of the war. Your sword may be for hire; but -you still have a country, and the first offer goes to her. Should -she refuse it, the next will not go to an enemy of England’s. So why -belittle yourself thus? You still have a country, and you love it. -There are many here who are ready to love you, though they may not be -among those who govern England. You have come back to serve her. Serve -her, then. But first ask yourself how best she may be served.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Sit down, man. Sit, and listen.”</p> - -<p>And now, having first sworn the Colonel to secrecy in the name of their -old friendship—to which and to the Colonel’s desperate condition, the -other trusted in opening his heart—Tucker delivered himself of what -was no less than treason.</p> - -<p>He began by inviting the Colonel to consider the state to which -misgovernment by a spendthrift, lecherous, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>vindictive, dishonest king -had reduced the country. Beginning with the Bill of Indemnity and its -dishonourable evasion, he reviewed act by act the growing tyranny of -the last five years since the restoration of King Charles, presenting -each in the focus of his own vision, which, if bitterly hostile, was -yet accurate enough. He came in the end to deal with the war to which -the country was committed; he showed how it had been provoked by -recklessness, and how it had been rendered possible by the gross, the -criminal neglect of the affairs of that navy which Cromwell had left so -formidable. And he dwelt upon the appalling license of the Court with -all the fury of the Puritan he was at heart.</p> - -<p>“We touch the end at last,” he concluded with fierce conviction. -“Whitehall shall be swept clean of this Charles Stuart and his trulls -and pimps and minions. They shall be flung on the foul dunghill where -they belong, and a commonwealth shall be restored to rule this England -in a sane and cleanly fashion, so that honest men may be proud to serve -her once again.”</p> - -<p>“My God, Ned, you’re surely mad!” Holles was aghast as much at the -confidence itself as at the manner of it.</p> - -<p>“To risk myself, you mean?” Tucker smiled grimly. “These vampires -have torn the bowels out of better men in the same cause, and if we -fail, they may have mine and welcome. But we do not fail. Our plans -are shrewdly laid and already well advanced. There is one in Holland -who directs them—a name I dare not mention to you yet, but a name -that is dear to all honest men. Almost it is the hour. Our agents -are everywhere abroad, moulding the people’s mind, directing it into -a sane channel. Heaven itself has come to our help by sending us -this pestilence to strike terror into men’s hearts and make them ask -themselves how much the vices by which the rulers defile this land may -not have provoked this visitation. That preacher you heard upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> -steps of Paul’s is one of our agents, doing the good work, casting the -seed in fertile places. And very soon now will come the harvest—such a -harvest!”</p> - -<p>He paused, and considered his stricken friend with an eye in which -glowed something of the light of fanaticism.</p> - -<p>“Your sword is idle and you seek employment for it, Randal. Here is -a service you may take with honour. It is the service of the old -Commonwealth to which in the old days you were stanch, a service -aiming at these enemies who would still deny such men as you a place -in England. You strike not only for yourself, but for some thousands -in like case. And your country will not forget. We need such swords as -yours. I offer you at once a cause and a career. Albemarle puts you -off with promises of appointments in which the preference over worth -is daily granted to the pimpish friends of the loathly creatures about -Charles Stuart’s leprous Court. I have opened my heart to you freely -and frankly, even at some risk. What have you to say to me?”</p> - -<p>Holles rose, his decision taken, his face set. “What I said at first. -I am a mercenary. I do not make governments. I serve them. There is no -human cause in all the world to-day could move me to enthusiasm.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you came home that you might serve England in her need.”</p> - -<p>“Because I did not know where else to go.”</p> - -<p>“Very well. I accept you at your own valuation, Randal—not that I -believe you; but not to confuse the argument. Being here, you find the -doors by which you counted upon entering all closed against you, and -locked. What are you going to do? You say you are a mercenary; that -your concern is but to give a soulless service to the hand that hires -you. I present you to a liberal taskmaster; one who will richly reward -your service. Since to you all service is alike, let the mercenary -answer me.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<p>He, too, had risen, and held out a hand in appeal. The Colonel looked -at him seriously awhile; then he smiled.</p> - -<p>“What an advocate was lost in you, Ned!” said he. “You keep to the -point—aye; but also you conveniently miss it. A mercenary serves -governments <i>in esse</i>; the service of governments <i>in posse</i> is for -enthusiasts; and I have had no enthusiasms these ten years and more. -Establish your government, and my sword is for your hire, and gladly. -But do not ask me to set my head upon the board in this gamble to -establish it; for my head is my only remaining possession.”</p> - -<p>“If you will not strike a blow for love, will you not strike one for -hate: against the Stuart, whose vindictiveness will not allow you to -earn your bread?”</p> - -<p>“You overstate the case. Though much that you have said of him may be -true, I will not yet despair of the help of Albemarle.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you blind madman, I tell you—I swear to you—that in a very -little while Albemarle will be beyond helping any man, beyond helping -even himself.”</p> - -<p>Holles was about to speak, when Tucker threw up a hand to arrest him.</p> - -<p>“Do not answer me now. Let what I have said sink home into your -wits. Give it thought. We are not pressed for a few days. Ponder my -words, and if as the days pass and no further news comes to you from -Whitehall—no fulfilment of this airy promise—perhaps you will regard -things differently, and come to see where your interest really lies. -Remember, then, that we need skilled soldiers as leaders for our -movement, and that an assured welcome awaits you. Remember, too—this -for the mercenary you represent yourself—that the leaders now will be -the leaders still when the task is accomplished, and that theirs will -be the abiding rewards. Meanwhile, Randal, the bottle’s not half done. -So sit you down again, and let us talk of other matters.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<p>Going home towards dusk, the thing that most intrigued the Colonel -was the dangerous frankness that Tucker had used with him, trusting a -man in his desperate case with a secret so weighty upon no more than -his pledged word and what Tucker remembered of him in the creditable -state from which he had long since fallen. Reflection, however, -diminished his wonder. Tucker had divulged no facts whose betrayal -could seriously impair the plotters. He had mentioned no names; he had -no more than vaguely alluded to a directing mind in Holland, which the -Colonel guessed to be Algernon Sidney’s, who was beyond the reach of -the Stuart arm. For the rest, what had he told him? That there was a -serious movement afoot to overthrow the Stuart dynasty, and restore the -Commonwealth. Let Holles carry that tale to the authorities, and what -would happen? He could impeach by name no man but Tucker; and all he -could say of Tucker was that Tucker had told him these things. Tucker’s -word would be as good as Holles’s before a justice. On the score of -credit, Holles’s antecedents would be the subject of inquiry, and the -revelation of them would result in danger to himself alone.</p> - -<p>Tucker had not been as ingenuous and confiding as he had at first -supposed. He laughed a little to himself at his own simplicity. Then -laughed again as he reviewed the proposal Tucker had made him. He might -be desperate, but not desperate enough for that—not yet. He caressed -his neck affectionately. He had no mind to feel a rope tightening -about it. Nor would he yet despair because of what Tucker, largely -for the purposes of his own advocacy, had said of Albemarle. The more -he considered it, away from Tucker now, the more persuaded was he of -Albemarle’s sincerity and good intentions.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">MR. ETHEREDGE PRESCRIBES</span></h2> - -<p>On his return to the Paul’s Head from that treasonable talk with -Tucker, the Colonel found a considerable excitement presiding over -that usually peaceful and well-conducted hostelry. The common room was -thronged, which was not in itself odd, considering the time of day; -what was odd was the noisy, vehement babble of the normally quiet, -soberly spoken merchants who for the main part composed its custom. -Mrs. Quinn was there listening to the unusually shrill voice of her -bookseller-suitor Coleman, and her round red face, which the Colonel -had never seen other than creased and puckered in smiles of false -joviality, was solemn for once and had lost some of its normally high -colour. Near at hand hovered the drawer, scraping imaginary crumbs from -the table with his wooden knife, as a pretext for remaining to listen. -And so engrossed was his mistress that she left his eavesdropping -unreproved.</p> - -<p>Yet, for all her agitation, she had a coy glance for the Colonel as -he stalked through, with that lofty detachment and arrogant unconcern -of his surroundings which she found so entirely admirable in him. It -was not long before she followed him into the little parlour at the -back, where she found him stretched at his ease on his favourite seat -under the window, having cast aside sword and hat. He was in the act of -loading a pipe from a leaden tobacco-jar.</p> - -<p>“Lord, Colonel! Here be dreadful news,” she told him.</p> - -<p>He looked up, cocking an eyebrow.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have heard?” she added. “It is the talk of the Town.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “Nay, I heard nothing dreadful. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> met a friend, an -old friend, over there by the Flower of Luce, and I’ve been with him -these three hours. I talked to no one else. What is this news?”</p> - -<p>But she was frowning as she looked at him scrutinizingly with her round -blue eyes. Her mind was shifted by his light words to her own more -immediate concerns. He had met a friend—an old friend. Not much in -that to arouse anxiety, perhaps. But Mrs. Quinn moved now in constant -dread of influences that might set the Colonel on a sound worldly -footing likely to emancipate him from his dependence upon herself. She -had skilfully drawn from him enough of the details of his interview -with Albemarle to realize that the help upon which he counted from -that quarter had not been forthcoming. He had been put off with vague -promises, and Mrs. Quinn knew enough of her world not to be greatly -perturbed by that. None the less she would have set all doubts at rest -by leading the Colonel into the relationship in which she desired to -hold him, but that as yet the Colonel manifested no clear disposition -to be led. And she was too crafty a huntress to scare her quarry by -premature and too direct an onslaught. The only anxiety, yielding to -which she might have committed that imprudence, was on the score of -the unexpected. She knew that the unexpected will sometimes happen, -and this mention of a friend—an old friend, with whom he had spent -some hours in intimate talk—was disquieting. She would have liked to -question him on the subject of that friend, and might have done so but -for his insistent repetition of the question:</p> - -<p>“What is this news?”</p> - -<p>Recalled to it thus, the gravity of the news itself thrust out the -other matter from her mind.</p> - -<p>“That the plague has broken out in the City itself—in a house in -Bearbinder Lane. It was brought by a Frenchman from Long Acre, where he -lived, and which he left upon <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>finding the pestilence to be growing in -his neighbourhood. Yet it seems he was already taken with the disease, -which now the wretch has brought to our threshold, as it were, without -benefit to himself.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel thought of Tucker and his scaremongering emissaries.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is not true,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Aye, but it is. Beyond a doubt. It was put about by a preacher rogue -from the steps of Paul’s to-day. At first folk did not believe him. -But they went to Bearbinder Lane, and there found the house shut up, -and guarded by command of my Lord Mayor. And they do say that Sir John -Lawrence is gone to Whitehall to take order about this, to concert -measures for staying the spread of the pestilence; they are to close -playhouses and all other places where people come together, which will -likely mean that they will be closing taverns and eating-houses. And -what should I do in that case?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” Holles comforted her. “It will hardly come to that. Men -must eat and drink or they starve, and that’s as bad as the pestilence.”</p> - -<p>“To be sure it is. But they’ll never think of that in their zeal and -their sudden godliness—for they’ll be in a muck-sweat o’ godliness now -that they see what a visitation has been brought upon us by the vices -of the Court. And this to happen at such a time, with the Dutch fleet, -as they say, about to attack the coast!”</p> - -<p>She railed on. Disturbed out of her self-centred existence into a -consideration of the world’s ills now that she found herself menaced by -them, she displayed a prodigious volubility upon topics that hitherto -she had completely ignored.</p> - -<p>And the substance of her news was true enough. The Lord Mayor was at -that very moment at Whitehall urging immediate and drastic measures for -combating the spread of the pestilence, and one of these measures was -the instant closing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> of the playhouses. But since he did not at the -same time urge the closing of the churches, in which the congregating -of people was at least as dangerous as in the theatres, it was assumed -at Court that Sir John was the cat’s-paw of the Puritans who sought -to make capital out of the pestilence. Besides, the visitation was -one that confined itself to the poorer quarters and the lower orders. -Heaven would never be so undiscriminating as to permit this horrible -disease to beset persons of quality. And then, too, Whitehall’s mind -at the moment was over-full of other matters: there were these rumours -that the Dutch fleet was out, and that was quite sufficient to engage -such time and attention as could be spared from pleasure by the -nation’s elect, following in the footsteps of their pleasure-loving -King. Also a good many of the nation’s elect were exercised at the -time by personal grievances in connection with the fleet and the war. -Of these perhaps the most disgruntled—as he was certainly the most -eminent—was His Grace of Buckingham, who found the nation sadly -negligent of the fact that he had come all the way from York, and his -lord-lieutenancy there, to offer her his valuable services in her hour -of need.</p> - -<p>He had requested the command of a ship, a position to which his -rank and his talents fully entitled him, in his own view. That such -a request would be refused had never entered his calculations. But -refused it was. There were two factors working against him. The first -was that the Duke of York cordially disliked him and neglected no -chance of mortifying him; the second was that the Duke of York, being -Lord Admiral of the Fleet, desired to take no risks. There were many -good positions from which capable naval men could be excluded to make -way for sprigs of the nobility. But the command of a man-of-war was -not one of these. Buckingham was offered a gun-brig. Considering that -the offer came from the King’s brother, he could not resent it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> the -terms his hot blood prompted. But what he could do to mark his scorn, -he did. He refused the gun-brig, and enlisted as a volunteer aboard -a flag-ship. But here at once a fresh complication arose. As a Privy -Councillor he claimed the right of seat and voice in all councils of -war, in which capacity it is probable he might have done even more -damage than in command of one of the great ships. Again the Duke of -York’s opposition foiled him, whereupon in a rage he posted from -Portsmouth to Whitehall to lay his plaint before his crony the King. -The Merry Monarch may have wavered; it may have vexed him not to be -able to satisfy the handsome rake who understood so well the arts of -loosening laughter; but between his own brother and Buckingham there -can have been no choice. And so Charles could not help him.</p> - -<p>Buckingham had remained, therefore, at Court, to nurse his chagrin, and -to find his way circuitously into the strange history of Colonel Randal -Holles. His grace possessed, as you know, a mercurial temperament which -had not yet—although he was now approaching forty—lost any of its -liveliness. Such natures are readily consoled, because they readily -find distractions. It was not long before he had forgotten, in new and -less creditable pursuits, not only the humbling of his dignity, but -even the circumstance that his country was at war. Dryden has summed -him up in a single line: He “was everything by starts, and nothing -long.” The phrase applies as much to Buckingham’s moods as to his -talents; it epitomizes the man’s whole character.</p> - -<p>His friend George Etheredge, that other gifted rake who had leapt into -sudden fame a year ago with his comedy “The Comic Revenge,” had been -deafening his ears with praises of the beauty and talent of that widely -admired and comparatively newly discovered actress Sylvia Farquharson. -At first Buckingham had scoffed at his friend’s enthusiasm. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Such heat of rhetoric to describe a playhouse baggage!” he had yawned. -“For a man of your parts, George, I protest you’re nauseatingly callow.”</p> - -<p>“You flatter me in seeking to reprove,” Etheredge laughed. “To be -callow despite the years is to bear the mark of greatness. Whom the -gods love are callow always; for whom the gods love die young, whatever -be their age.”</p> - -<p>“You aim at paradox, I suppose. God help me!”</p> - -<p>“No paradox at all. Whom the gods love never grow old,” Etheredge -explained himself. “They never come to suffer as do you from jaded -appetites.”</p> - -<p>“You may be right,” his grace admitted gloomily. “Prescribe me a tonic.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I was doing: Sylvia Farquharson, at the Duke’s House.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! A play actress! A painted doll on wires! Twenty years ago your -prescription might have served.”</p> - -<p>“You admit that you grow old. Superfluous admission! But this, let -me perish, is no painted doll. This is an incarnation of beauty and -talent.”</p> - -<p>“So I’ve heard of others that had neither.”</p> - -<p>“And let me add that she is virtuous.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham stared at him, opening his lazy eyes. “What may that be?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“The chief drug in my prescription.”</p> - -<p>“But does it exist, or is your callowness deeper than I thought?” quoth -Buckingham.</p> - -<p>“Come and see,” Mr. Etheredge invited him.</p> - -<p>“Virtue,” Buckingham objected, “is not visible.”</p> - -<p>“Like beauty, it dwells in the beholder’s eye. That’s why you’ve never -seen it, Bucks.”</p> - -<p>To the Duke’s playhouse in Lincoln’s Inn Fields his disgruntled grace -suffered himself, in the end, to be conducted. He went to scoff. He -remained to worship. You already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> know—having overheard the garrulous -Mr. Pepys—how from his box, addressing his companion in particular and -the whole house in general, the ducal author loudly announced that he -would give his muse no rest until he should have produced a play with a -part worthy of the superb talents of Miss Farquharson.</p> - -<p>His words were reported to her. They bore with them a certain flattery -to which it was impossible that she should be impervious. She had -not yet settled herself completely into this robe of fame that had -been thrust upon her. She continued unspoiled, and she did not yet -condescendingly accept such utterances from the great as no more than -the proper tribute to her gifts. Such praise from one so exalted, -himself a distinguished author and a boon companion of the King’s, set -a climax upon the triumphs that lately she had been garnering.</p> - -<p>It prepared her for the ducal visit to the green room, which followed -presently. She was presented by Mr. Etheredge with whom she was already -acquainted, and she stood shyly before the tall, supremely elegant -duke, under the gaze of his bold eyes.</p> - -<p>In his golden periwig he looked at this date not a year more than -thirty, despite the hard life he had lived from boyhood. As yet he had -come to none of that grossness to be observed in the portrait which -Sir Peter Lely painted some years later. He was still the handsomest -man at Charles’s Court, with his long-shaped, dark blue eyes under -very level brows, his fine nose and chin, and his humorous, sensitive, -sensual mouth. In shape and carriage he was of an extraordinary -grace that drew all eyes upon him. Yet at sight, instinctively, Miss -Farquharson disliked him. She apprehended under all that beauty of -person something sinister. She shrank inwardly and coloured a little -under the appraising glance of those bold, handsome eyes, which seemed -to penetrate too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> far. Reason and ambition argued her out of that -instinctive shrinking. Here was one whose approval carried weight and -would set the seal upon her fame, one whose good graces could maintain -her firmly on the eminence to which she had so laboriously climbed. He -was a man whom, in spite of all instinctive warnings, she must use with -consideration and a reasonable submission.</p> - -<p>On his side, the Duke, already captivated by her grace and beauty -upon the stage, found himself lost in admiration now that at close -quarters he beheld her slim loveliness. For lovely she was, and the -blush which his scrutiny had drawn to her cheeks, heightening that -loveliness, almost disposed him to believe Etheredge’s incredible -assertion of her virtue. Shyness may be counterfeited and the simpers -of unsophistication are easily assumed; but a genuine blush is not to -be commanded.</p> - -<p>His grace bowed, low, the curls of his wig swinging forward like the -ears of a water-spaniel.</p> - -<p>“Madam,” he said, “I would congratulate you were I not more concerned -to congratulate myself for having witnessed your performance, and still -more Lord Orrery, your present author. Him I not only congratulate but -envy—a hideous, cankering emotion, which I shall not conquer until I -have written you a part at least as great as his Katherine. You smile?”</p> - -<p>“It is for gratification at your grace’s promise.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder now,” said he, his eyes narrowing, his lips smiling a little. -“I wonder is that the truth, or is it that you think I boasted? that -such an achievement is not within my compass? I’ll confess frankly that -until I saw you it was not. But you have made it so, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“If I have done that, I shall, indeed, have deserved well of my -audience,” she answered, but lightly, laughing a little, as if to -discount the high-flown compliment. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<p>“As well, I trust, as I shall have deserved of you,” said he.</p> - -<p>“The author must always deserve the best of his puppets.”</p> - -<p>“Deserve, aye. But how rarely does he get his deserts!”</p> - -<p>“Surely you, Bucks, have little reason to complain,” gibed Etheredge. -“In my case, now, it is entirely different.”</p> - -<p>“It is, George—entirely,” his grace agreed, resenting the -interruption. “You are the rarity. You have always found better than -you deserved. I have never found it until this moment.” And his eyes -upon Miss Farquharson gave point to his meaning.</p> - -<p>When at length they left her, her sense of exaltation was all gone. -She could not have told you why, but the Duke of Buckingham’s approval -uplifted her no longer. Almost did she wish that she might have gone -without it. And when Betterton came smiling good-naturedly, to offer -her his congratulations upon this conquest, he found her bemused and -troubled.</p> - -<p>Bemused, too, did Etheredge find the Duke as they drove back together -to Wallingford House.</p> - -<p>“Almost, I think,” said he, smiling, “that already you find my despised -prescription to your taste. Persevered with it may even restore you -your lost youth.”</p> - -<p>“What I ask myself,” said Buckingham, “is why you should have -prescribed her for me instead of for yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I am like that,” said Etheredge,—“the embodiment of self-sacrifice. -Besides, she will have none of me—though I am ten years younger than -you are, fully as handsome and almost as unscrupulous. The girl’s a -prude, and I never learnt the way to handle prudes. Faith, it’s an -education in itself.”</p> - -<p>“Is it?” said Buckingham. “I must undertake it, then.”</p> - -<p>And undertake it he did with all the zest of one who loved learning and -the study of unusual subjects. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> - -<p>Daily now he was to be seen in a box at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn -Fields, and daily he sent her, in token of his respectful homage, gifts -of flowers and comfits. He would have added jewels, but that the wiser -Etheredge restrained him.</p> - -<p>“Ne brusquez pas l’affaire,” was the younger man’s advice. “You’ll -scare her by precipitancy, and so spoil all. Such a conquest as this -requires infinite patience.”</p> - -<p>His grace suffered himself to be advised, and set a restraint upon his -ardour, using the greatest circumspection in the visits which he paid -her almost daily after the performance. He confined the expressions of -admiration to her histrionic art, and, if he touched upon her personal -beauty and grace, it was ever in association with her playing, so that -its consideration seemed justified by the part that he told her he was -conceiving for her.</p> - -<p>Thus subtly did he seek to lull her caution and intoxicate her senses -with the sweet poison of flattery, whilst discussing with her the play -he was to write—which, in his own phrase, was to immortalize himself -and her, thereby eternally uniting them. There was in this more than -a suggestion of a spiritual bond, a marriage of their respective arts -to give life to his dramatic conception, so aloof from material and -personal considerations that she was deceived into swallowing at least -half the bait. Nor was it vague. His grace did not neglect to furnish -it with a certain form. His theme, he told her, was the immortal story -of Laura and her Petrarch set in the warm glitter of an old Italian -frame. Nor was that all he told her. He whipped his wits to some -purpose, and sketched for her the outline of a first act of tenderness -and power.</p> - -<p>At the end of a week he announced to her that this first act was -already written.</p> - -<p>“I have laboured day and night,” he told her; “driven relentlessly by -the inspiration you have furnished me. So great is this that I must -regard the thing as more yours than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> mine, or I shall do it when you -have set upon it the seal of your approval.” Abruptly he asked her, as -if it were a condition predetermined: “When will you hear me read it?”</p> - -<p>“Were it not better that your grace should first complete the work?” -she asked him.</p> - -<p>He was taken aback, almost horror-stricken, to judge by his expression.</p> - -<p>“Complete it!” he cried; “without knowing whether it takes the shape -that you desire?”</p> - -<p>“But it is not what I desire, your grace....”</p> - -<p>“What else, then? Is it not something that I am doing specially for -you, moved to it by yourself? And shall I complete it tormented the -while by doubts as to whether you will consider it worthy of your -talents when it is done? Would you let a dressmaker complete your -gown without ever a fitting to see how it becomes you? And is a play, -then, less important than a garment? Is not a part, indeed, a sort of -garment for the soul? Nay, now, if I am to continue I must have your -assistance as I say. I must know how this first act appears to you, how -far my Laura does justice to your powers; and I must discuss with you -the lines which the remainder of the play shall follow. Therefore again -I ask you—and in the sacred cause of art I defy you to deny me—when -will you hear what I have written?”</p> - -<p>“Why, since your grace does me so much honour, when you will.”</p> - -<p>It was intoxicating, this homage to her talent from one of his gifts -and station, the intimate of princes, the close associate of kings, -and it stifled, temporarily at least, the last qualm of her intuitions -which had warned her against this radiant gentleman. They had become -so friendly and intimate in this week, and yet his conduct had been so -respectful and circumspect throughout, that clearly her instincts had -misled her at that first meeting. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> - -<p>“When I will,” said he. “That is to honour me, indeed. Shall it be -to-morrow, then?”</p> - -<p>“If your grace pleases, and you will bring the act....”</p> - -<p>“Bring it?” He raised his eyebrows. His lip curled a little as he -looked round the dingy green room. “You do not propose, child, that I -should read it here?” He laughed in dismissal of the notion.</p> - -<p>“But where else, then?” she asked, a little bewildered.</p> - -<p>“Where else but in my own house? What other place were proper?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” She was dismayed a little. An uneasiness, entirely instinctive, -beset her once again. It urged her to draw back, to excuse herself. Yet -reason combated instinct. It were a folly to offend him by a refusal? -Such a thing would be affronting by its implication of mistrust; and -she was very far from wishing to affront him.</p> - -<p>He observed the trouble in her blue eyes as she now regarded him, but -affected not to observe it, and waited for her to express herself. She -did so after a moment’s pause, faltering a little.</p> - -<p>“But ... at your house.... Why, what would be said of me, your grace? -To come there alone....”</p> - -<p>“Child! Child!” he interrupted her, his tone laden with gentle -reproach. “Can you think that I should so lightly expose you to the -lewd tongues of the Town? Alone? Give your mind peace. I shall have -some friends to keep you in countenance and to join you as audience to -hear what I have written. There shall be one or two ladies from the -King’s House; perhaps Miss Seymour from the Duke’s here will join us; -there is a small part for her in the play; and there shall be some -friends of my own; maybe even His Majesty will honour us. We shall make -a merry party at supper, and after supper you shall pronounce upon my -Laura whom you are to incarnate. Is your hesitancy conquered?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was, indeed. Her mind was in a whirl. A supper party at Wallingford -House, at which in a sense she was to be the guest of honour, and which -the King himself would attend! She would have been mad to hesitate. -It was to enter the great world at a stride. Other actresses had done -it—Moll Davis and little Nelly from the King’s House; but they had -done it upon passports other than those of histrionic talent. She would -have preferred that Miss Seymour should not have been included. She had -no great opinion of Miss Seymour’s conduct. But there was a small part -for her, and that was perhaps a sufficient justification.</p> - -<p>And so she cast aside her hesitation, and gladdened his grace by -consenting to be present.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PRUDE</span></h2> - -<p>On the evening of the day that had seen the meeting between Holles -and Tucker, at about the same hour that Sir John Lawrence was vainly -representing at Whitehall the expediency of closing the theatres and -other places of congregation in view of the outbreak of plague within -the City itself, His Grace of Buckingham was sitting down to supper -with a merry company in the great dining-room of Wallingford House.</p> - -<p>Eleven sat down to a table that was laid for twelve. The chair on the -Duke’s right stood empty. The guest of honour, Miss Farquharson, had -not yet arrived. At the last moment she had sent a message that she -was unavoidably detained for some little time at home, and that, if on -this account it should happen that she must deny herself the honour of -sitting down to supper at his grace’s table, at least she would reach -Wallingford House in time for the reading with which his grace was to -delight the company.</p> - -<p>It was in part a fiction. There was nothing to detain Miss Farquharson -beyond a revival of her uneasy intuitions, which warned her against -the increase of intimacy that would attend her inclusion in the Duke’s -supper-party. The play, however, was another affair. Therefore she -would so time her arrival that she would find supper at an end and the -reading about to begin. To be entirely on the safe side, she would -present herself at Wallingford House two hours after the time for which -she had been bidden.</p> - -<p>His grace found her message vexatious, and he would have postponed -supper until her arrival but that his guests did not permit him to -have his own way in the matter. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> the truth was that there was -no first act in existence, for the Duke had not yet written a line -of it and probably never would, and that supper was to provide the -whole entertainment, it follows that this would be protracted, and -that however late she came she was likely still to find the party at -table. Therefore her late arrival could be no grave matter in the end. -Meanwhile, the empty chair on the Duke’s right awaited her.</p> - -<p>They were a very merry company, and as time passed they grew merrier. -There was Etheredge, of course, the real promoter of the whole affair, -and this elegant, talented libertine who was ultimately—and at a still -early age—to kill himself with drinking was doing the fullest justice -to the reputation which the winecup had already earned him. There was -Sedley, that other gifted profligate, whose slim, graceful person and -almost feminine beauty gave little indication of the roistering soul -within. Young Rochester should have been of the party, but he was at -that moment in the Tower, whither he had been sent as a consequence -of his utterly foolish and unnecessary attempt to abduct Miss Mallet -two nights ago. But Sir Harry Stanhope filled his vacant place—or, at -least, half-filled it, for whilst Rochester was both wit and libertine, -young Stanhope was a libertine only. And of course there was Sir Thomas -Ogle, that boon companion of Sedley’s, and two other gentlemen whose -names have not survived. The ladies were of less distinguished lineage. -There was the ravishingly fair little Anne Seymour from the Duke’s -House, her white shoulders displayed in a <i>décolletage</i> that outraged -even the daring fashion of the day. Seated between Stanhope and Ogle, -she was likely to become a bone of contention between them in a measure -as they drowned restraint in wine. There was Moll Davis from the King’s -House seated on the Duke’s left, with Etheredge immediately below her -and entirely engrossing her, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> was that dark, statuesque, -insolent-eyed Jane Howden, languidly spreading her nets for Sir Charles -Sedley, who showed himself willing and eager to be taken in them. A -fourth lady on Ogle’s left was making desperate but futile attempts to -draw Sir Thomas’s attention from Miss Seymour.</p> - -<p>The feast was worthy of the exalted host, worthy of that noble chamber -with its richly carved wainscoting, its lofty ceiling carried on -graceful fluted pillars, lighted by a hundred candles in colossal -gilded girandoles. The wine flowed freely, and the wit, flavoured with -a salt that was not entirely Attic, flowed with it. Laughter swelled -increasing ever in a measure as the wit diminished. Supper was done, -and still they kept the table, over their wine, waiting for that -belated guest whose seat continued vacant.</p> - -<p>Above that empty place sat the Duke—a dazzling figure in a suit of -shimmering white satin with diamond buttons that looked like drops of -water. Enthroned in his great gilded chair, he seemed to sit apart, -absorbed, aloof, fretted by the absence of the lady in whose honour he -had spread this feast, and annoyed with himself for being so fretted, -as if he were some callow schoolboy at his first assignation.</p> - -<p>Alone of all that company he did not abuse the wine. Again and again he -waved away the velvet-footed lackeys that approached to pour for him. -Rarely he smiled as some lively phrase leapt forth to excite the ready -laughter of his guests. His eyes observed them, noting the flushed -faces and abandoned attitudes as the orgy mounted to its climax. He -would have restrained them, but that for a host to do so were in his -view an offence against good manners. Gloomily, abstractedly, his eyes -wandered from the disorder of the table, laden with costly plate of -silver and of gold, with sparkling crystal, with pyramids of fragrant -fruits and splendours of flowers that already were being used as -missiles by his hilarious guests. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> - -<p>From the chilly heights of his own unusual sobriety he found them gross -and tiresome; their laughter jarred on him. He shifted his weary glance -to the curtains masking the long windows. They draped the window-spaces -almost from floor to ceiling, wedges of brilliant colour—between blue -and green, upon which golden peacocks strutted—standing out sharply -from the sombre richness of the dark wainscot. He strained his ears to -catch some rumble of wheels in the courtyard under those windows, and -he frowned as a fresh and prolonged burst of laughter from his guests -beat upon his ears to shut out all other sounds.</p> - -<p>Then Sedley in a maudlin voice began to sing a very questionable song -of his own writing, whilst Miss Howden made a comedy of pretending -to silence him. He was still singing it, when Stanhope sprang up and -mounted his chair, holding aloft a dainty shoe of which he had stripped -Miss Seymour, and calling loudly for wine. Pretty little Anne would -have snatched back her footgear but that she was restrained by Ogle, -who not only held her firmly, but had pulled her into his lap, where -she writhed and screamed and giggled all in one.</p> - -<p>Solemnly, as if it were the most ordinary and natural of things, a -lackey poured wine into the shoe, as Stanhope bade him. And Stanhope, -standing above them, gay and flushed, proposed a toast the terms of -which I have no intention of repeating.</p> - -<p>He was midway through when the twin doors behind the Duke were thrown -open by a chamberlain, whose voice rang solemnly above the general din.</p> - -<p>“Miss Sylvia Farquharson, may it please your grace.”</p> - -<p>There was a momentary pause as of surprise; then louder than ever rose -their voices in hilarious acclamation of the announcement.</p> - -<p>Buckingham sprang up and round, and several others rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> with him to -give a proper welcome to the belated guest. Stanhope, one foot on his -chair, the other on the table, bowed to her with a flourish of the -slipper from which he had just drunk.</p> - -<p>She stood at gaze, breathless and suddenly pale, on the summit of the -three steps that led down to the level of the chamber, her startled, -dilating eyes pondering fearfully that scene of abandonment. She saw -little Anne Seymour, whom she knew, struggling and laughing in the arms -of Sir Thomas Ogle. She saw Etheredge, whom she also knew, sitting with -flushed face and leering eyes, an arm about the statuesque bare neck of -Miss Howden, her lovely dark head upon his shoulder; she saw Stanhope -on high, capering absurdly, his wig awry, his speech halting and -indecorous; and she saw some others in attitudes that even more boldly -proclaimed the licence presiding over this orgy to which she had been -bidden.</p> - -<p>Lastly she saw the tall white figure of the Duke advancing towards her, -his eyes narrowed, a half-smile on his full lips, both hands outheld in -welcome. He moved correctly, with that almost excessive grace that was -his own, and he at least showed no sign of the intoxication that marked -the guests at this Circean feast. But that afforded her no reassurance. -From pale that they had been, her cheeks—her whole body, it seemed to -her—had flamed a vivid scarlet. Now it was paling again, paling this -time in terror and disgust.</p> - -<p>Fascinatedly she watched his grace’s advance for a moment. Then -incontinently she turned, and fled, with the feelings of one who -had looked down for a moment into the pit of hell and drawn back in -shuddering horror before being engulfed.</p> - -<p>Behind her fell a dead silence of astonishment. It endured whilst you -might have counted six. Then a great peal of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> demoniac laughter came -like an explosion to drive her fearfully onward.</p> - -<p>Down the long panelled gallery she ran as we run in a nightmare, making -for all her efforts but indifferent speed upon the polished, slippery -floor, gasping for breath in her terror of a pursuit of which she -fancied that already she heard the steps behind her. She reached the -hall, darted across this, and across the vestibule, her light silk -mantle streaming behind her, and so gained at last the open door, -stared at by lackeys, who wondered, but made no attempt to stay her.</p> - -<p>Too late came the shout from the pursuing Duke ordering them to bar -her way. By then she was already in the courtyard, and running like -a hare for the gateway that opened upon Whitehall. Out of this the -hackney-coach that had brought her was at that moment slowly rumbling. -Panting she overtook it, just as the driver brought it to a halt in -obedience to her cry.</p> - -<p>“To Salisbury Court,” she gasped. “Drive quickly!”</p> - -<p>She was in, and she had slammed the door as the Duke’s lackeys—three -of them—ran alongside the vehicle, bawling their commands to stop. She -flung half her body through the window on the other side to countermand -the order.</p> - -<p>“Drive on! Drive quickly, in God’s name!”</p> - -<p>Had they still been in the courtyard, it is odds that the driver would -not have dared proceed. But they were already through the gateway -in Whitehall itself, and the coach swung round to the left in the -direction of Charing Cross. Here in the open street the driver could -defy the Duke’s lackeys, and the latter dared not make any determined -attempt to hinder him.</p> - -<p>The coach rolled on, and Miss Farquharson sank back to breathe at last, -to recover from her nameless terror and to regain her calm. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Duke went back with dragging feet and scowling brow to be greeted -by a storm of derision upon which in more sober mood his guests would -hardly have ventured. He attempted to laugh with them, to dissemble the -extent to which he had been galled. But he hardly made a success of -it, and there was distinct ill-temper in the manner in which he flung -himself down into his great chair. Mr. Etheredge, leaning across Miss -Howden, laid a white jewelled hand on his friend’s arm.</p> - -<p>He alone of all the company, although he had probably drunk more deeply -than any, showed no sign of intoxication beyond the faint flush about -his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I warned you,” he said, “that the little prude is virtuous, and that -she will require much patience. This is your chance to exercise it.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">MR. ETHEREDGE ADVISES</span></h2> - -<p>Towards midnight, when all the guests but Etheredge had departed, -and the candles lighting the disordered room were guttering in their -sconces, the Duke sat alone in council with the younger libertine. -He had dismissed his servants; the doors were closed, and they were -entirely private.</p> - -<p>The Duke unburdened himself, bitterly and passionately. The patience -which Etheredge counselled was altogether beyond him, he confessed. -More than ever now, when, by the exercise of it, by moving circuitously -to his ends, he had so scared the little prude that he was worse off -than at the outset.</p> - -<p>Etheredge smiled.</p> - -<p>“You’re a prodigiously ungrateful fellow. You go clumsily to work and -then you blame me for the failure of your endeavours. Had you asked me, -I could have told you what must happen with a parcel of fools and sluts -who haven’t learnt the art of carrying their wine in decent fashion. -Had she arrived at the appointed time, whilst they were still sober, -all might have been well. She might have come to share, in part, at -least, their intoxication, and so she would have viewed their antics -through eyes that wine had rendered tolerant and kindly. As it is, you -merely offended her by a disgusting spectacle; and that is very far -from anything that I advised.”</p> - -<p>“Be that as it may,” said the ill-humoured Duke, “there is a laugh -against me that is to be redeemed. I am for directer measures now.”</p> - -<p>“Directer measures?” Etheredge’s brows went up. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> uttered a musical, -scornful little laugh. “Is this your patience?”</p> - -<p>“A pox on patience....”</p> - -<p>“Then she is not for you. Wait a moment, my sweet Bucks. I have no -illusions as to what you mean by direct measures. You are probably more -sober than I am; but then I am more intelligent than you. Out of my -intelligence let me inform your sobriety.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come to the point.”</p> - -<p>“I am coming to it. If you mean to carry the girl off, I’ll be -reminding you that at law it’s a hanging matter.”</p> - -<p>The Duke stared at him in disdainful amazement. Then he uttered a sharp -laugh of derision.</p> - -<p>“At law? Pray, my good George, what have I to do with the law?”</p> - -<p>“By which you mean that you are above it.”</p> - -<p>“That is where usually I have found myself.”</p> - -<p>“Usually. The times are not usual. The times are monstrous unusual. -Rochester, no doubt, thought as you do when he carried off Miss Mallet -on Friday night. Yet Rochester is in the Tower in consequence.”</p> - -<p>“And you think they’ll hang him?” Buckingham sneered.</p> - -<p>“No. They won’t hang him, because the abduction was an unnecessary -piece of buffoonery—because he is ready to mend Miss Mallet’s honour -by marrying her.”</p> - -<p>“Let me perish, George, but you’re more drunk than I thought. Miss -Mallet is a person of importance in the world with powerful friends....”</p> - -<p>“Miss Farquharson, too, has friends. Betterton is her friend, and he -wields a deal of influence. You don’t lack for enemies to stir things -up against you....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but a baggage of the theatre!” Buckingham was incredulously -scornful.</p> - -<p>“These baggages of the theatre are beloved of the people,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> and the -mood of the people of London at present is not one I should care to -ruffle were I Duke of Buckingham. There is a war to excite them, and -the menace of the plague to scare them into making examinations of -conscience. There are preachers, too, going up and down the Town, -proclaiming that this is a visitation of God upon the new Sodom. The -people are listening. They are beginning to point to Whitehall as the -source of all the offences that have provoked the wrath of Heaven. And -they don’t love you, Bucks, any more than they love me. They don’t -understand us, and—to be plain—our names, yours and mine and several -others, are beginning to stink in their nostrils. Give them such an -argument as this against you, and they’ll see the law fulfilled. Never -doubt that. The English are an easy-going people on the surface, which -has led some fools to their undoing by abusing them. The spot where His -Majesty’s father lost his head is within easy view of these windows.</p> - -<p>“And so I tell you that the thing which you intend to do, which would -be fraught with risks at any time, is certain destruction to you at -this present. The very eminence upon which you count for safety would -prove your undoing. The fierce light that beats upon a throne beats -upon those who are about it. A more obscure man might do this thing -with less risk to himself than you would run.”</p> - -<p>His grace discarded at last his incredulous scorn, and gave himself up -to gloomy thought. Etheredge, leaning back in his chair, watched him, -faintly, cynically amused. At length the Duke stirred and raised his -handsome eyes to his friend’s face.</p> - -<p>“Don’t sit there grinning—damn you!—advise me.”</p> - -<p>“To what end, since you won’t follow my advice?”</p> - -<p>“Still, let me hear it. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“Forget the girl, and look for easier game. You are hardly young enough -for such an arduous and tiring hunt as this.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> - -<p>His grace damned him roundly for a scoffer, and swore that he would not -abandon the affair; that, at whatever cost, he would pursue it.</p> - -<p>“Why, then, you must begin by effacing the bad impression you have made -to-night. That will not be easy; indeed, it is the most difficult step -of all. But there are certain things in your favour. For one, you were -not, for a wonder, drunk, yourself, when you rose to welcome her. Let -us hope that she observed it. Pay her a visit on Monday at the theatre -to tender your most humble apologies for the disgraceful conduct of -your guests. Had you known them capable of such abandoned behaviour, -you would never have bidden her make one of such a company. You will -profess yourself glad that she departed instantly; that is what you -would, yourself, have advised.”</p> - -<p>“But I pursued her. My lackeys sought to stay her coach.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally—so that you might make her your apologies, and approve a -departure which in the circumstances you must have urged. Damme, Bucks! -You have no invention, and you desire to deem yourself a dramatist.”</p> - -<p>“You think she will believe me?” His grace was dubious.</p> - -<p>“That will depend upon your acting, and you are reputed something of an -actor. God knows you played the mountebank once to some purpose. Have -you forgotten?”</p> - -<p>“No, no. But will it serve, do you think?”</p> - -<p>“As a beginning. But you must follow it up. You must reveal yourself -in a new character. Hitherto she has known you, first by repute and -to-night by experience, a rake. That in itself makes her wary of -you. Let her behold you as a hero; say, as a rescuer of beauty in -distress—herself in the distressful part. Deliver her from some deadly -peril, and thereby earn her gratitude and her wonder at your prowess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -Women love a hero. So be heroical, and who knows what good fortune may -attend your heroism.”</p> - -<p>“And the deadly peril?” quoth the Duke gloomily, almost suspecting that -his friend was rallying him. “Where shall I find that?”</p> - -<p>“If you wait to find it, you may have long to wait. You must, yourself, -provide it. A little contriving, a little invention, will soon supply -what you lack.”</p> - -<p>“Can you propose anything? Can you be more than superiorly vague?”</p> - -<p>“I hope so. With a little thought....”</p> - -<p>“Then, in God’s name, think.”</p> - -<p>Etheredge laughed at his host’s vehemence. He brimmed himself a cup of -wine, surveyed the rich glow of it in the candlelight and drank it off.</p> - -<p>“Inspiration flows. Invention stirs within me. Now listen.” And sitting -forward he propounded a plan of campaign with that rascally readiness -of wit that was at once his glory and his ruin.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">ALBEMARLE PROPOSES</span></h2> - -<p>Ned Tucker did not long leave his proposal to Holles unconfirmed. He -sought him in the matter again at the Paul’s Head three days later, -on the Sunday, and sat long in talk with him in the little parlour, -to the profound disquieting of Mrs. Quinn, who had observed from the -gentleman’s bearing and apparel that he was a person of consequence.</p> - -<p>He found the Colonel a little more malleable to-day, a little less -insistent upon serving only governments <i>in esse</i>. The fact was that, -as day followed day without word from Albemarle, Holles approached the -conclusion that things were indeed as Tucker had represented them. His -hopes sank, and his dread of that score of his which was daily mounting -at the Paul’s Head added to his despair.</p> - -<p>Still, he did not altogether yield to Tucker’s persuasions; but neither -did he discourage him when the latter promised to visit him again on -the morrow, bringing another old friend of their Parliament days. And -on the Monday, true to his promise, Tucker came again, accompanied this -time by a gentleman some years his senior, named Rathbone, with whom -Colonel Holles recalled some slight acquaintance. This time they came -with a very definite proposal, empowered, so they told him, by one -whose name they would not yet utter, but which, if uttered, must remove -his every doubt.</p> - -<p>“For that, Randal, you will accept our word, I know,” said the grave -Tucker.</p> - -<p>Holles nodded his agreement, and the proposal was disclosed. It offered -him a position which in an established<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> government would have been -dazzling. It was dazzling even as things were, to one in his desperate -case, driven to the need of making a gambler’s throw. If on the one -side he probably set his head, at least the stake they offered could -hardly have been greater.</p> - -<p>And they tempted him further by revelations of how far their -preparations were advanced, and how thorough these were.</p> - -<p>“Heaven,” said Rathbone, “is on our side. It has sent this plague -to stir men to bethink themselves of the rulers they have chosen. -Our agents have discovered four cases in the City to-day: one in -Wood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in Crooked Lane. The -authorities hoped to keep it from the knowledge of the people. But -we are seeing to that. At this moment our preachers are proclaiming -it, spreading terror that men may be driven by it to the paths of -righteousness.”</p> - -<p>“When the devil was sick the devil a monk would be,” said Holles. “I -understand.”</p> - -<p>“Then you should see that all is ready, the mine is laid,” Tucker -admonished him. “This is your opportunity, Randal. If you delay now....”</p> - -<p>A tap at the door interrupted him. Tucker bounded up, propelled by his -uneasy conspirator’s conscience. Rathbone, too, glanced round uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s to startle you?” said the Colonel quietly, smiling to -behold their fears. “It is but my good hostess.”</p> - -<p>She came in from the common room bearing a letter that had just been -brought for Colonel Holles.</p> - -<p>He took it, wondering; then, observing the great seal, a little colour -crept into his cheeks. He spread the sheet, and read, under the -observing eyes of his friends and his hostess, and they were all alike -uneasy.</p> - -<p>Twice he read that letter before he spoke. The unexpected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> had -happened, and it had happened at the eleventh hour, barely in time to -arrest him on the brink of what might well prove a precipice. Thus he -saw it now, his vision altering with his fortunes.</p> - -<p>“Luck has stood your friend sooner than we could have hoped,” wrote -Albemarle. “A military post in the Indies has, as I learn from letters -just received, fallen vacant. It is an important command full worthy -of your abilities, and there, overseas, you will be safe from all -inquisitions. If you will wait upon me here at the Cockpit this -afternoon, you shall be further informed.”</p> - -<p>He begged his friends to excuse him a moment, took pen, ink, and paper -from the sideboard and quickly wrote a few lines in answer.</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Quinn had departed to convey that note to the messenger, and -the door had closed again, the two uneasy conspirators started up. -Questions broke simultaneously from both of them. For answer Holles -placed Albemarle’s letter on the table. Tucker snatched it up, and -conned it, whilst over his shoulder Rathbone read it, too.</p> - -<p>At last Tucker lowered the sheet, and his grave eyes fell again upon -Holles.</p> - -<p>“And you have answered—what?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“That I will wait upon his grace this afternoon as he requires of me.”</p> - -<p>“But to what end?” asked Rathbone. “You can’t mean that you will accept -employment from a government that is doomed.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel shrugged. “As I have told Tucker from the first, I serve -governments; I do not make them.”</p> - -<p>“But just now....” Tucker was beginning.</p> - -<p>“I wavered. It is true. But something else has been flung into the -scales.” And he held up Albemarle’s letter.</p> - -<p>They argued with him after that; but they argued vainly. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If I am of value to your government when you shall have established -it, you will know where to find me; and you will know from what has -happened now that I am trustworthy.”</p> - -<p>“But your value to us is now, in the struggle that is coming. And it is -for this that we are prepared to reward you richly.”</p> - -<p>He was not, however, to be moved. The letter from Albemarle had reached -him an hour too soon.</p> - -<p>At parting he assured them that their secret was safe with him, and -that he would forget all that they had said. Since, still, they had -disclosed no vital facts whose betrayal could frustrate their purpose, -it was an almost unnecessary assurance.</p> - -<p>They stalked out resentfully. But Tucker returned alone a moment later.</p> - -<p>“Randal,” he said, “it may be that upon reflection you will come to -see the error of linking yourself to a government that cannot endure, -to the service of a king against whom the hand of Heaven is already -raised. You may come to prefer the greatness that we offer you in the -future to this crust that Albemarle throws you at the moment. If you -are wise, you will. If so, you know where to find me. Seek me there, -and be sure of my welcome as of my friendship.”</p> - -<p>They shook hands and parted, and with a sigh and a smile Holles turned -to load himself a pipe. He was not, he thought, likely to see Tucker -again.</p> - -<p>That afternoon he waited upon Albemarle, who gave him particulars of -the appointment he had to offer. It was an office of importance, the -pay was good, and so that Holles discharged his duties well, which the -Duke had no occasion to doubt, there would be even better things in -store for him before very long.</p> - -<p>“The one thing to efface the past is a term of service now, wheresoever -it may be. Hereafter when I commend you for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> some other place, here at -home, perhaps, and I am asked what are your antecedents, I need but -point to the stout service you will have done us in the Indies, and men -will inquire no further. It is a temporary exile, but you may trust me -to see that it endures no longer than is necessary.”</p> - -<p>No such advocacy was needed to induce Holles to accept an office that, -after all, was of an importance far beyond anything for which he could -reasonably have hoped. He said so frankly by way of expressing his deep -gratitude.</p> - -<p>“In that case, you will seek me again here to-morrow morning. Your -commission shall be meanwhile made out.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel departed jubilant. At last—at long last—after infinite -frowns, Fortune accorded him a smile. And she accorded it in the very -nick of time, just as he was touching the very depths of his despair -and ready to throw in his lot with a parcel of crazy fanatics who -dreamed of another revolution.</p> - -<p>So back to the Paul’s Head he came with his soaring spirits, and called -for a bottle of the best Canary. Mrs. Quinn read the omens shrewdly.</p> - -<p>“Your affairs at Whitehall have prospered, then?” said she between -question and assertion.</p> - -<p>Holles reclined in an armchair, his legs, from which he had removed his -boots, stretched luxuriously upon a stool, his head thrown back, a pipe -between his lips.</p> - -<p>“Aye. They’ve prospered. Beyond my deserts,” said he, smiling at the -ceiling.</p> - -<p>“Never that, Colonel. For that’s not possible.” She beamed upon him, -proffering the full stoup.</p> - -<p>He sat up to take it, and looked at her, smiling.</p> - -<p>“No doubt you’re right. But I’ve gone without my deserts so long that I -have lost all sense of them.”</p> - -<p>“There’s others who haven’t,” said she; and timidly added a question -upon the nature of his prosperity. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>He paused to drink a quarter of the wine. Then, as he set down the -vessel on the table at his elbow, he told her.</p> - -<p>Her countenance grew overcast. He was touched to note it, inferring -from this manifest regret at his departure that he had made a friend in -Mrs. Quinn.</p> - -<p>“And when do you go?” she asked him, oddly breathless.</p> - -<p>“In a week’s time.”</p> - -<p>She considered him, mournfully he thought; and he also thought that she -lost some of her bright colour.</p> - -<p>“And to the Indies!” she ejaculated slowly. “Lord! Among savages and -heathen blacks! Why, you must be crazed to think of it.”</p> - -<p>“Beggars may not choose, ma’am. I go where I can find employment. -Besides, it is not as bad as you imagine.”</p> - -<p>“But where’s the need to go at all, when, as I’ve told you already, -such a man as yourself should be thinking of settling down at home and -taking a wife?”</p> - -<p>She realized that the time had come to deliver battle. It was now or -never. And thus she sent out a preliminary skirmishing party.</p> - -<p>“Why, look at yourself,” she ran on, before he could answer. “Look at -the condition of you.” And she pointed a denunciatory finger at the -great hole in the heel of his right stocking. “You should be seeking -a woman to take care of you, instead of letting your mind run on -soldiering in foreign parts.”</p> - -<p>“Excellent advice,” he laughed. “There is one difficulty only. Who -takes a wife must keep a wife, and, if I stay in England, I shan’t have -enough to keep myself. So I think it’ll be the Indies, after all.”</p> - -<p>She came to the table, and leaned upon it, facing him.</p> - -<p>“You’re forgetting something. There’s many a woman well endowed, and -there’s many a man has taken a wife with a jointure who couldn’t ha’ -taken a wife without.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You said something of the kind before.” Again he laughed. “You think I -should be hunting an heiress. You think I have the figure for the part.”</p> - -<p>“I do,” said she, to his astonishment. “You’re a proper man, and you’ve -a name and a position to offer. There’s many a wealthy woman of modest -birth would be glad of you, as you should be glad of her, since each -would bring what the other lacks.”</p> - -<p>“Faith! You think of everything. Carry your good offices further than -mere advice, Mrs. Quinn. Find me this wealthy and accommodating lady, -and I’ll consider the rejection of this Indian office. But you’ll need -to make haste, for there’s only a week left.”</p> - -<p>It was a laughing challenge, made on the assumption that it would not -be taken up, and, as she looked away uncomfortably under his glance, -his laughter increased.</p> - -<p>“That’s not quite so easy as advising, is it?” he rallied her.</p> - -<p>She commanded herself, and looked him squarely in the eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, it is,” she assured him. “If you was serious I could soon -produce the lady—a comely enough woman of about your own age, mistress -of thirty thousand pounds and some property, besides.”</p> - -<p>That sobered him. He stared at her a moment; the pipe between his -fingers.</p> - -<p>“And she would marry a vagabond? Odds, my life! What ails her?”</p> - -<p>“Naught ails her. If you was serious I’d present her.”</p> - -<p>“’Sblood! you make me serious. Thirty thousand pounds! Faith, that is -serious enough. I could set up as a country squire on that.”</p> - -<p>“Then why don’t you?”</p> - -<p>Really, she was bewildering, he thought, with her calm assumptions that -it was for him to say the word. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Because there’s no such woman.”</p> - -<p>“And if there was?”</p> - -<p>“But there isn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you there is.”</p> - -<p>“Where is she, then?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Quinn moved away from the table, and round to his side of it.</p> - -<p>“She is ... here.”</p> - -<p>“Here?” he echoed.</p> - -<p>She drew a step or two nearer, so that she was almost beside him.</p> - -<p>“Here in this room,” she insisted, softly.</p> - -<p>He looked up at her, still uncomprehending. Then, as he observed the -shy smile with which she sought to dissemble her agitation, the truth -broke upon him at last.</p> - -<p>The clay stem of his pipe snapped between his fingers, and he dived -after the pieces, glad of any pretext to remove his eyes from her -face and give him a moment in which to consider how he should conduct -himself in this novel and surprising situation.</p> - -<p>When he came up again, his face was flushed, which may have been from -the lowering of his head. He wanted to laugh; but he realized that -this would be utterly unpardonable. He rose, and set the pieces of the -broken pipe on the table. Standing thus, his shoulder to her, he spoke -gently, horribly embarrassed.</p> - -<p>“I ... I had no notion of ... of your meaning....” And there he broke -down.</p> - -<p>But his embarrassment encouraged her. Again she came close.</p> - -<p>“And now that you know it, Colonel?” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“I ... I don’t know what to say.”</p> - -<p>His mind was beginning to recover its functions. He understood at last -why a person of his shabby exterior and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> obvious neediness should have -been given unlimited credit in this house.</p> - -<p>“Then say nothing at all, Colonel dear,” she was purring. “Save that -you’ll put from you all notion of sailing to the Indies.”</p> - -<p>“But ... but my word is pledged already.” It was a straw at which he -clutched, desperately. And it was not a very fortunate one, for it -suggested that his pledged word was the only obstacle.</p> - -<p>The effect was to bring her closer still. She was almost touching -him, as he stood there, still half averted, and she actually leaned -against him, and set a hand upon his shoulder as she spoke, coaxingly, -persuasively.</p> - -<p>“But it was pledged before ... before you knew of this. His grace will -understand. He’ll never hold you to it. You’ve but to explain.”</p> - -<p>“I ... I couldn’t. I couldn’t,” he cried weakly.</p> - -<p>“Then I can.”</p> - -<p>“You?” He looked at her.</p> - -<p>She was pale, but resolute. “Yes, me,” she answered him. “If your -pledge is all that holds you, I’ll take coach at once and go to -Whitehall. George Monk’ll see me, or if he won’t his Duchess will. I -knew her well in the old days, when I was a young girl, and she was a -sempstress glad to earn a groat where she could. Nan Clarges’ll never -deny herself to an old friend. So if you but say the word, I’ll soon -deliver you from this pledge of yours.”</p> - -<p>His face lengthened. He looked away again.</p> - -<p>“That is not all, Mrs. Quinn,” he said, very gently. “The truth is ... -I am not of a ... a nature to make a woman happy.”</p> - -<p>This she deemed mere coyness, and swept it briskly aside. “I’d take the -risk of that.”</p> - -<p>“But ... but ... you see I’ve lived this roving life of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>mine so long, -that I do not think I could ever settle. Besides, ma’am, what have I to -offer?”</p> - -<p>“If I am satisfied with my bargain, why take thought for that?”</p> - -<p>“I must. The fact is, I am touched, deeply touched. I did not think I -had it in me to arouse the affection, or even the regard, of any woman. -Even so, ma’am, whilst it moves me, it does not change my purpose. I am -not a marrying man.”</p> - -<p>“But....”</p> - -<p>He raised a hand, dominantly, to check her. He had found the correct -formula at last, and he meant to keep to it.</p> - -<p>“Useless to argue, ma’am. I know my mind. My reasons are as I have -said, and so is the fact. I am touched; I am prodigiously touched, and -grateful. But there it is.”</p> - -<p>His firmness turned her white with mortification. To have offered -herself, and to have been refused! To have this beggar turn his -shoulder upon her, finding her so little to his taste that not even -her thirty thousand pounds could gild her into attractiveness! It was -a bitter draught, and it called up bitterness from the depths of her -soul. As she considered him now with her vivid blue eyes, her face -grew mottled. She was moved to sudden hatred of him. Nothing short of -killing him could, she felt, extinguish that tormenting hate.</p> - -<p>She felt impelled to break into violent recriminations, yet could find -nothing upon which to recriminate. If only she could have thrown it -in his face that he had afforded her encouragement, trifled with her -affections, lured her on, to put this terrible affront upon her, she -might have eased herself of some of the gall within her. But she could -charge him with nothing that would bear the form of words.</p> - -<p>And so she considered him in silence, her abundant bosom heaving, her -eyes growing almost baleful in their glance, whilst he stood awkwardly -before her, his gaze averted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> staring through the open window, and -making no attempt to add anything to what already he had said.</p> - -<p>At last on a long indrawn breath she moved.</p> - -<p>“I see,” she said quietly. “I am sorry to have....”</p> - -<p>“Please!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hand again to arrest her, an -infinite pity stirring in him.</p> - -<p>She walked to the door, moving a little heavily. She opened it, and -then paused under the lintel. Over her shoulder she spoke to him again.</p> - -<p>“Seeing that things is like this, perhaps you’ll make it convenient to -find another lodging not later than to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>He inclined his head a little in agreement.</p> - -<p>“Naturally....” he was beginning, when the door closed after her with a -bang and he was left alone.</p> - -<p>“Phew!” he breathed, as he sank limply into his chair again. He passed -a hand wearily across his brow, and found it moist.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">BUCKINGHAM DISPOSES</span></h2> - -<p>Colonel Holles hummed softly to himself as he dressed with care to -keep his momentous appointment at the Cockpit, and when his toilet -was completed you would scarcely have known him for the down-at-heel -adventurer of yesterday, so fine did he appear.</p> - -<p>Early that morning he had emptied the contents of his purse upon the -bed, and counted up his fortune. It amounted to thirty-five pounds and -some shillings. And Albemarle had promised him that, together with his -commission, he should that morning receive an order on the Treasury -for thirty pounds to meet his disbursements on equipment and the rest. -He must, he considered, do credit to his patron. He argued that it -was a duty. To present himself again at Whitehall in his rags were to -disgrace the Duke of Albemarle; there might be introductions, and he -would not have his grace blush for the man he was protecting.</p> - -<p>Therefore, immediately after an early breakfast—at which, for once, he -had been waited upon, not by Mrs. Quinn, but by Tim the drawer—he had -sallied forth and made his way to Paternoster Row. There, yielding to -the love of fine raiment inseparable from the adventurous temperament -and to the improvident disposition that accompanies it, and also having -regard to the officially military character he was about to assume, he -purchased a fine coat of red camlet laced with gold, and small-clothes, -stockings, and cravat in keeping. By the time he added a pair of boots -of fine Spanish leather, a black silk sash, a new, gold-broidered -baldric, and a black beaver with a trailing red plume, he found that -fully three quarters of his slender<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> fortune was dissipated, and -there remained in his purse not above eight pounds. But that should -not trouble a man who within a couple of hours would have pocketed an -order upon the Treasury. He had merely anticipated the natural course -of events, and counted himself fortunate to be, despite his reduced -circumstances, still able to do so.</p> - -<p>He had returned then with his bundle to the Paul’s Head, and, as he -surveyed himself now in his mirror, freshly shaven, his long thick -gold-brown hair elegantly curled, and a clump of its curls caught in a -ribbon on his left, the long pear-shaped ruby glowing in his ear, his -throat encased in a creaming froth of lace, and the fine red coat that -sat so admirably upon his shoulders, he smiled at the memory of the -scarecrow he had been as lately as yesterday, and assured himself that -he did not look a day over thirty.</p> - -<p>He created something of a sensation when he appeared below in all this -finery, and, since it was unthinkable that he should tread the filth -of the streets with his new Spanish boots, Tim was dispatched for a -hackney-coach to convey the Colonel to Whitehall.</p> - -<p>It still wanted an hour to noon, and this the Colonel considered the -earliest at which he could decently present himself. But early as it -was there was another who had been abroad and at the Cockpit even -earlier. This was His Grace of Buckingham, who, accompanied by his -friend Sir Harry Stanhope, had sought the Duke of Albemarle a full hour -before Colonel Holles had been ready to leave his lodging.</p> - -<p>A gentleman of the Duke’s eminence was not to be kept waiting. He had -been instantly admitted to that pleasant wainscoted room overlooking -the Park in which His Grace of Albemarle transacted business. Wide as -the poles as were the two dukes asunder, the exquisite libertine and -the dour soldier, yet cordial relations prevailed between them. Whilst -correct and circumspect in his own ways of life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> Monk was utterly -without bigotry and as utterly without prejudices on the score of -morals. Under his dour taciturnity, and for all that upon occasion he -could be as brave as a lion, yet normally he was of the meekness of a -lamb, combined with a courteous aloofness, which, if it earned him few -devoted friends, earned him still fewer enemies. As a man gives, so he -receives; and Monk, being very sparing both of his love and his hate, -rarely excited either passion in others. He was careful not to make -enemies, but never at pains to make friends.</p> - -<p>“I desire your leave to present to your grace my very good friend Sir -Harry Stanhope, a deserving young soldier for whom I solicit your -grace’s good offices.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle had heard of Sir Harry as one of the most dissolute -young profligates about the Court, and, observing him now, his -grace concluded that the gentleman’s appearance did justice to his -reputation. It was the first time that he had heard him described as -a soldier, and the description awakened his surprise. But of this he -betrayed nothing. Coldly he inclined his head in response to the diving -bow with which Sir Harry honoured him.</p> - -<p>“There is no need to solicit my good offices for any friend of your -grace’s,” he answered, coldly courteous. “A chair, your grace. Sir -Harry!” He waved the fop to the second and lesser of the two chairs -that faced his writing-table, and when they were seated he resumed his -own place, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “Will -your grace acquaint me how I may have the honour of being of service?”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harry,” said Buckingham, leaning back in his armchair, and -throwing one faultlessly stockinged leg over the other, “desires, for -certain reasons of his own, to see the world.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle had no illusions as to what those reasons were. It was -notorious that Harry Stanhope had not only gamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> away the inheritance -upon which he had entered three years ago, but that he was colossally -in debt, and that, unless some one came to his rescue soon, his -creditors might render life exceedingly unpleasant for him. He would -not be the first gay butterfly of the Court to make the acquaintance of -a sponging house. But of that thought, as it flashed through the mind -of the Commander-in-Chief, no indication showed on his swart, set face -and expressionless dark eyes.</p> - -<p>“But Sir Harry,” Buckingham was resuming after the slightest of pauses, -“is commendably moved by the wish to render his absence from England of -profit to His Majesty.”</p> - -<p>“In short,” said Albemarle, translating brusquely, for he could not -repress a certain disdain, “Sir Harry desires an appointment overseas.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham dabbed his lips with a lace handkerchief. “That, in short,” -he admitted, “is the situation. Sir Harry will, I trust, deserve well -in your grace’s eyes.”</p> - -<p>His grace looked at Sir Harry, and found that he did nothing of the -kind. From his soul, unprejudiced as he was, Albemarle despised the -mincing fop whom he was desired to help to cheat his creditors.</p> - -<p>“And the character of this appointment?” he inquired tonelessly.</p> - -<p>“A military character would be best suited to Sir Harry’s tastes and -qualities. He has the advantage of some military experience. He held -for a time a commission in the Guards.”</p> - -<p>“In the Guards!” thought Albemarle. “My God! What a recommendation!” -But his expression said nothing. His owlish eyes were levelled calmly -upon the young rake, who smiled ingratiatingly, and thereby, did he -but know it, provoked Albemarle’s disgust. Aloud, at length, he made -answer: “Very well. I will bear in mind your grace’s application on Sir -Harry’s behalf, and when a suitable position offers....” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But it offers now,” Buckingham interjected languidly.</p> - -<p>“Indeed?” The black brows went up, wrinkling the heavy forehead. “I am -not aware of it.”</p> - -<p>“There is this command in Bombay, which has fallen vacant through the -death of poor Macartney. I heard of it last night at Court. You are -forgetting that, I think. It is an office eminently suitable to Sir -Harry here.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle was frowning. He pondered a moment; but only because it was -ever his way to move slowly. Then he gently shook his head and pursed -his heavy lips.</p> - -<p>“I have also to consider, your grace, whether Sir Harry is eminently -suitable to the office, and, to be quite frank, and with all -submission, I must say that I cannot think so.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham was taken aback. He stared haughtily at Albemarle. “I don’t -think I understand,” he said.</p> - -<p>Albemarle fetched a sigh, and proceeded to explain himself.</p> - -<p>“For this office—one of considerable responsibility—we require a -soldier of tried experience and character. Sir Harry is no doubt -endowed with many commendable qualities, but at his age it is -impossible that he should have gained the experience without which he -could not possibly discharge to advantage the onerous duties which -would await him. Nor is that the only obstacle, your grace. I have not -only chosen my man—and such a man as I have described—but I have -already offered, and he has already accepted, the commission. So that -the post can no longer be considered vacant.”</p> - -<p>“But the commission was signed only last night by His Majesty—signed -in blank, as I have reason to know.”</p> - -<p>“True. But I am none the less pledged. I am expecting at any moment -now, the gentleman upon whom the appointment is already conferred.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham did not dissemble his annoyance. “May one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> inquire his -name?” he asked, and the question was a demand.</p> - -<p>Albemarle hesitated. He realized the danger to Holles in naming him at -this unfortunate juncture. Buckingham might go to any lengths to have -him removed, and there was that in Holles’s past, in his very name, -which would supply abundant grounds. “His name would not be known -to your grace. He is a comparatively obscure soldier, whose merits, -however, are fully known to me, and I am persuaded that a fitter man -for the office could not be found. But something else will, no doubt, -offer within a few days, and then....”</p> - -<p>Buckingham interrupted him arrogantly.</p> - -<p>“It is not a question of something else, your grace, but of this. I -have already obtained His Majesty’s sanction. It is at his suggestion -that I am here. It is fortunate that the person you had designated for -the command is obscure. He will have to give way, and you may console -him with the next vacant post. If your grace requires more explicit -instruction I shall be happy to obtain you His Majesty’s commands in -writing.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle was checkmated. He sat there grim and impassive as if he were -carved of stone. But his mind was a seething cauldron of anger. It was -always thus. The places of trust, the positions demanding experienced -heads and able hands that England might be served to the best advantage -by her most meritorious sons, were constantly being flung away upon -the worthless parasites that flocked about Charles’s lecherous Court. -And he was the more angered here, because his hands were tied against -resistance by the very identity of the man he was appointing. Had it -been a question of any other man of Holles’s soldierly merit, but of -such antecedents as would permit the disclosure of his name, he would -clap on his hat and step across to the palace to argue the matter with -the King. And he would know how to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> conduct the argument so as to -prevail against the place-seeking insolence of Buckingham. But, as it -was, he was forced to realize that he could do none of this without -perhaps dooming Holles and bringing heavy censure fruitlessly upon -himself. “Oddsfish!” the King would cry. “Do you tell me to my face -that you prefer the son of a regicide to the friend of my friend?” And -what should he answer then?</p> - -<p>He lowered his eyes. The commission which was the subject of this -discussion lay there on the table before him, the space which the name -of Randal Holles was intended to occupy still standing blank. He was -defeated, and he had best, for the sake of Holles as much as for his -own, accept the situation without further argument.</p> - -<p>He took up a pen, dipped it, and drew the document to him.</p> - -<p>“Since you have His Majesty’s authority, there can be, of course, no -further question.”</p> - -<p>Rapidly, his quill scratching and spluttering across the sheet, he -filled in the name of Sir Harry Stanhope, bitterly considering that he -might as profitably have filled in Nell Gwynn’s. He dusted the thick -writing with pounce, and proffered it without another word. But his -looks were heavy.</p> - -<p>Buckingham rose, smiling, and Sir Harry bounced up with him, smiling -also. For the first and last time in the course of that short interview -Sir Harry spoke.</p> - -<p>“Your grace’s devoted servant,” he professed himself, bowing and -smirking. “I shall study to discharge my office creditably, and to -allay any qualms my youth may leave in your grace’s mind.”</p> - -<p>“And youth,” said Buckingham, smiling, to reassure Albemarle, “is a -fault that time invariably corrects.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle rose slowly to his feet, and the others bowed themselves out -of his presence. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he sat down again heavily, took his head in his hands, and softly -loosed an oath.</p> - -<p>Holles came an hour later, radiant with expectation, a gay, -youthful-looking, commanding figure in his splendid red coat, to be -crushed by the news that proved him Fortune’s fool again, as ever.</p> - -<p>But he bore it well on the face of him, however deeply the iron was -thrust into his soul. It was Albemarle who for once showed excitement, -Albemarle who inveighed in most unmeasured terms against the corrupt -influence of the Court and the havoc it was working.</p> - -<p>“It needed a man for this office and they have constrained me to give -it to a fribble, a dolly in breeches, a painted dawcock.”</p> - -<p>Holles remembered Tucker’s denunciations of the present government and -began to realize at last how right he was and how justified he and his -associates might be of their conviction that the people were ready to -rise and sweep this Augean stable clean.</p> - -<p>Albemarle was seeking to comfort him with fresh hope. No doubt -something else would offer soon.</p> - -<p>“To be snatched up again by some debt-ridden pimp who wants to escape -his creditors,” said Holles, his tone betraying at last some of the -bitterness fermenting in his soul.</p> - -<p>Albemarle stood sorrowfully regarding him. “This hits you hard, Randal, -I know.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel recovered and forced a laugh.</p> - -<p>“Pooh! Hard hits have mostly been my portion.”</p> - -<p>“I know.” Albemarle paced to the window and back, his head sunk between -his shoulders. Then he came to a halt before the Colonel. “Keep me -informed of where you are lodged, and look to hear from me again as -soon as may be. Be sure that I will do my best.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Colonel’s glance kindled again. It was a flicker of the expiring -flame of hope.</p> - -<p>“You really think that something else will offer?”</p> - -<p>His grace paused before answering, and, in the pause, the sorrowful -gravity of his face increased.</p> - -<p>“To be frank with you, Randal, I hardly dare to <i>think</i> it. Chances -for such as you are, as you understand, not ... frequent. But the -unexpected may happen sooner than we dare to hope. If it does, be sure -I’ll not forget you. Be sure of that.”</p> - -<p>Holles thanked him steadily, and rose to depart, his radiance quenched, -despondency in every line of him.</p> - -<p>Albemarle watched from under furrowed brows. As he reached the door the -Duke detained him.</p> - -<p>“Randal! A moment.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel turned and waited whilst slowly Albemarle approached him. -His grace was deep in thought, and he hesitated before speaking.</p> - -<p>“You ... you are not urgently in need of money, I trust?” he said at -last.</p> - -<p>The Colonel’s gesture and laugh conveyed a shamefaced admission that he -was.</p> - -<p>Albemarle’s eyes considered him a moment still. Then, slowly, he drew a -purse from his pocket. It was apparently a light purse. He unfastened -it.</p> - -<p>“If a loan will help you until....”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” cried Holles, his pride aroused against accepting what -amounted almost to alms.</p> - -<p>Even so the repudiation was no more than half-hearted. But there was -no attempt from Albemarle to combat it. He did not press the offer. He -drew the purse-strings tight again, and his expression was almost one -of relief.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">A WOMAN SCORNED</span></h2> - -<p>Colonel Holles retraced his steps to the City on foot. A hackney-coach, -such as that in which he had driven almost in triumph to the Cockpit, -was no longer for him; nor yet could he submit to the expense of going -by water now that the unexpected was all that stood between himself and -destitution.</p> - -<p>And yet the unexpected was not quite all. An alternative existed, -though a very desperate one. There was the rebellion in which Tucker -had sought fruitlessly hitherto to engage him. The thought of it began -to stir in his dejected mind, as leaden-footed he dragged himself -towards Temple Bar through the almost stifling heat which was making -itself felt in London at the end of that month of May. Temptation urged -him now, nourished not only by the circumstance that in rebellion -lay his last hope of escaping starvation, but also by hot resentment -against an inclement and unjust government that drove able soldiers -such as himself into the kennels, whilst befriending the worthless -minions who pandered to the profligacy of a worthless prince. Vice, -he told himself, was the only passport to service in this England of -the restored Stuarts. Tucker and Rathbone were right. At least what -they did was justified and hallowed by the country’s need of salvation -from the moral leprosy that was fastening upon it, a disease more -devastating and deadly than this plague upon which the republicans -counted to arouse the nation to a sense of its position.</p> - -<p>He counted the cost of failure; but he counted it derisively. His -life would be claimed. That was the stake he set upon the board. But, -considering that it was the only stake <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>remaining him, why hesitate? -What, after all, was this life of his worth that he should be tender of -setting it upon a last throw with Fortune? Fortune favours boldness. -Perhaps in the past he had not been bold enough.</p> - -<p>Deep in his musings he had reached St. Clement Danes, when he was -abruptly aroused by a voice, harsh and warningly commanding.</p> - -<p>“Keep your distance, sir!”</p> - -<p>Checking, he looked round to the right, whence the order came.</p> - -<p>He beheld a man with a pike, who stood before a padlocked door that was -smeared with a red cross a foot in length, above which also in red was -heavily daubed the legend: LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US.</p> - -<p>Taken thus by surprise, the Colonel shuddered as at the contact of -something unclean and horrible. Hastily he stepped out into the middle -of the unpaved street, and, pausing there a moment, glanced up at the -closed shutters of the infected house. It was the first that he had -seen; for although he had come this way a week ago, when the plague -was already active in the neighbourhood, yet it was then confined to -Butcher’s Row on the north side of the church and to the mean streets -that issued thence. To find it thus upon the main road between the City -and Whitehall was to be rendered unpleasantly conscious of its spread. -And, as he now pursued his way with instinctively quickened steps, he -found his thoughts thrust more closely than ever upon the uses which -the revolutionaries could make of this dread pestilence. Much brooding -in his disturbed state of mind distorted his mental vision, so that he -came presently to adopt the view that this plague was a visitation from -Heaven upon a city abandoned to ungodliness. Heaven, it followed, must -be on the side of those who laboured to effect a purifying change. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> - -<p>The end of it was that, as he toiled up Ludgate Hill towards Paul’s, -his resolve was taken. That evening he would seek Tucker and throw in -his lot with the republicans.</p> - -<p>Coming into Paul’s Yard, he found a considerable crowd assembled -before the western door of the Cathedral. It was composed of people -of all degrees: merchants, shopkeepers, prentices, horseboys, -scavengers, rogues from the alleys that lay behind the Old ’Change, -idlers and sharpers from Paul’s Walk, with a sprinkling of women, -of town-gallants, and of soldiers. And there, upon the steps of the -portico, stood the magnet that had drawn them in the shape of that -black crow of a Jack Presbyter preaching the City’s doom. And his -text—recurring like the refrain of a song—was ever the same:</p> - -<p>“Ye have defiled your sanctuaries by the multitude of your iniquities, -by the iniquity of your traffic.”</p> - -<p>And yet, from between the Corinthian pillars which served him for his -background, had been swept away the milliners’ shops that had stood -there during the Commonwealth.</p> - -<p>Whether some thought of this in the minds of his audience rendered -his words humorously inapt, or whether it was merely that a spirit of -irresponsible ribaldry was infused into the crowd by a crowd of young -apprentices, loud derision greeted the preacher’s utterance. Unshaken -by the laughter and mocking cries, the prophet of doom presented a -fearless and angry front.</p> - -<p>“Repent, ye scoffers!” His voice shrilled to dominate their mirthful -turbulence. “Bethink you of where ye stand! Yet forty days and London -shall be destroyed! The pestilence lays siege unto this city of the -ungodly! Like a raging lion doth it stalk round, seeking where it may -leap upon you. Yet forty days, and....”</p> - -<p>An egg flung by the hand of a butcher’s boy smashed full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> in his face -to crop his period short. He staggered and gasped as the glutinous mass -of yolk and white crept sluggishly down his beard and dripped thence to -spread upon the rusty black of his coat.</p> - -<p>“Deriders! Scoffers!” he screamed, and with arms that thrashed the air -in imprecation, he looked like a wind-tossed scarecrow. “Your doom is -at hand. Your....”</p> - -<p>A roar of laughter provoked by the spectacle he presented drowned his -frenzied voice, and a shower of offensive missiles pelted him from -every quarter. The last of these was a living cat, which clawed itself -against his breast spitting furiously in its terror.</p> - -<p>Overwhelmed, the prophet turned, and fled between the pillars into the -shelter of Paul’s itself, pursued by laughter and insult. But scarcely -had he disappeared than with uncanny suddenness that laughter sank from -a roar to a splutter. To this succeeded a moment of deadly silence. -Then the crowd broke, and parted, its members departing at speed in -every direction with cries in which horror had taken now the place that -was so lately held by mirth.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles, finding himself suddenly alone, and as yet very far -from understanding what had taken place to scatter those men and women -in such panic, advanced a step or two into the suddenly emptied space -before the cathedral steps. There on the roughly cobbled ground he -beheld a writhing man, a well-made, vigorous fellow in the very prime -of life, whose dress was that of a tradesman of some prosperity. His -round hat lay beside him where he had fallen, and he rolled his head -from side to side spasmodically, moaning faintly the while. Of his -eyes nothing was visible but the whites, showing under the line of his -half-closed lids.</p> - -<p>As Holles, perceiving here no more than a sick man, continued his -advance, a voice from the retreating crowd shouted a warning to him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Have a care, sir! Have a care! He may be stricken with the plague.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel checked, involuntarily arrested by the horror that the very -word inspired. And then he beheld a stoutish, elderly man in a heavy -wig, plainly but scrupulously dressed in black, whose round countenance -gathered a singularly owlish expression from a pair of horn-rimmed -spectacles, walk calmly forward to the stricken citizen. A moment he -stood beside him looking down; then he turned to beckon a couple of -burly fellows who had the appearance and carried the staves of billmen. -From his pocket the sturdy gentleman in black produced a kerchief upon -which he sprinkled something from a phial. Holding the former to his -nostrils with his left hand, he knelt down beside the sufferer, and -quietly set himself to unfasten the man’s doublet.</p> - -<p>Observing him, the Colonel admired his quiet courage, and thence took -shame at his own fear for his utterly worthless life. Resolutely -putting it from him, he went forward to join that little group.</p> - -<p>The doctor looked round and up at his approach. But Holles had no eyes -at the moment for any but the patient, whose breast the physician had -laid bare. One of the billmen was pointing out to the other a purplish -tumid patch at the base of the sufferer’s throat. His eyes were round, -his face grave, and his voice came hushed and startled.</p> - -<p>“See! The tokens!” he said to his companion.</p> - -<p>And now the doctor spoke, addressing Holles.</p> - -<p>“You would do well not to approach more closely, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Is it ... the plague?” quoth Holles in a quiet voice.</p> - -<p>The doctor nodded, pointing to the purple patch. “The tokens are very -plain to see,” he said. “I beg, sir, that you will go.” And on that he -once more held the handkerchief to his mouth and nostrils, and turned -his shoulder upon the Colonel. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> - -<p>Holles withdrew as he was bidden, moving slowly and thoughtfully, -stricken by the first sight of the plague at work upon a -fellow-creature. As he approached the edges of the crowd, which, -keeping its distance, yet stood at gaze as crowds will, he observed -that men shrank back from him as if he were himself already tainted.</p> - -<p>A single thing beheld impresses us more deeply than twenty such things -described to us by others. Hitherto these London citizens had treated -lightly this matter of the plague. Not ten minutes ago they had been -deriding and pelting one who had preached repentance and warned them of -the anger of Heaven launched upon them. And then suddenly, like a bolt -from the blue, had come the stroke that laid one of them low, to freeze -their derision and fill their hearts with terror by giving them a sight -of this thing which hitherto they had but heard reported.</p> - -<p>The Colonel stalked on, reflecting that this event in Paul’s Yard had -done more proselytizing for the cause of the Commonwealth than a score -of advocates could have accomplished. It was very well, he thought. It -was a sign. And if anything had been wanting to clinch his decision to -throw in his lot with Tucker, this supplied it.</p> - -<p>But first to quench the prodigious thirst engendered by his long walk -through that sweltering heat, and then on to Cheapside and Tucker to -offer his sword to the revolutionaries. Thus he would assure himself -of the wherewithal to liquidate his score at the Paul’s Head and take -his leave of the amorous Mrs. Quinn, with whom he could not in any case -have afforded now to continue to lodge.</p> - -<p>As he entered the common room, she turned from a group of citizens with -whom she was standing to talk to follow him with her eyes, her lips -compressed, as he passed on into his own little parlour, at the back. A -moment later she went after him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was flinging off his hat, and loosening his doublet to cool himself, -and he gave her good-morning airily as if yesterday there had not been -an almost tragic scene between them. She found his light-hearted and -really tactful manner highly offensive, and she bridled under it.</p> - -<p>“What may be your pleasure, Colonel?” she demanded forbiddingly.</p> - -<p>“A draught of ale if I deserve your charity,” quoth he. “I am parched -as an African desert. Phew! The heat!” And he flung himself down on the -window-seat to get what air he could.</p> - -<p>She went off in silence, and returned with a tankard, which she placed -upon the table before him. Thirstily he set it to his lips, and as its -cool refreshment began to soothe his throat, he thanked Heaven that in -a world of much evil there was still so good a thing as ale.</p> - -<p>Silently she watched him, frowning. As he paused at last in the -enjoyment of his draught, she spoke.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll have made your plans to leave my house to-day as we settled it -last night?” said she between question and assertion.</p> - -<p>He nodded, pursing his lips a little. “I’ll remove myself to the Bird -in Hand across the Yard this afternoon,” said he.</p> - -<p>“The Bird in Hand!” A slight upward inflection of her voice marked her -disdain of that hostelry, which, indeed, was but a poor sort of tavern. -“Faith, it will go well with your brave coat. Ah, but that’s no affair -of mine. So that ye go, I am content.”</p> - -<p>There was something portentous in her utterance. She came forward to -the table, and leaned heavily forward upon it. Her expression and -attitude were calculated to leave him in no doubt that this woman, who -had been so tender to him hitherto, was now his declared enemy. “My -house,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> said, “is a reputable house, and I mean to keep it so. I -want no traitors here, no gallows’ birds and the like.”</p> - -<p>He had been on the point of drinking again. But her words arrested him, -the tankard midway to his lips.</p> - -<p>“Traitor? Gallows’ bird!” he ejaculated slowly. “I don’t think I take -your meaning, mistress. D’ye apply these terms to me? To me?”</p> - -<p>“To you, sir.” Her lips came firmly together.</p> - -<p>He stared, frowning, a long moment. Then he shrugged and laughed.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re mad,” he said with conviction, and finished his ale at a draught.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not mad, nor a fool neither, master rebel. A man’s to be -known by the company he keeps. Birds of a feather flock together, as -the saying goes. And how should you be other than a traitor that was -friends with traitors, that was close with traitors, here in this house -of mine, as I have seen and can swear to at need, and would if I wanted -to do you a mischief. I’ll spare you that. But you leave my house -to-day, or maybe I’ll change my mind about it.”</p> - -<p>He crashed the tankard down upon the board, and came to his feet.</p> - -<p>“’Sdeath, woman! Will you tell me what you mean?” he roared, his anger -fanned by uneasiness. “What traitors have I been close with?”</p> - -<p>“What traitors, do you say?” She sneered a little. “What of your friend -Danvers, that’s being sought at this moment by the men from Bow Street?”</p> - -<p>He was instantly relieved. “Danvers?” he echoed. “My friend Danvers? -Why, I have no such friend. I never even heard his name before.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” She was terribly derisive now. “And maybe you’ve never heard -the names of his lieutenants neither—of Tucker and of Rathbone, that -was in here with you no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> later than yesterday as I can swear. And what -was they doing with you? What had you to do with them? That’s what you -can perhaps explain to the satisfaction of the Justices. They’ll want -to know how you came to be so close with they two traitors that was -arrested this morning, along of a dozen others, for conspiring to bring -back the Commonwealth. Oh, a scoundrelly plot—to murder the King, -seize the Tower, and burn the City, no less.”</p> - -<p>It was like a blow between the eyes. “Arrested!” he gasped, his jaw -fallen, his eyes startled. “Tucker and Rathbone arrested, do you say? -Woman, you rave!” But in his heart already he knew that she did not. -For unless her tale were true how could she have come by her knowledge -of their conspiring.</p> - -<p>“Do I?” She laughed again, evilly mocking. “Step out into Paul’s Yard, -and ask the first man you meet of the arrest made in Cheapside just -afore noon, and of the hunt that is going on this minute for Danvers, -their leader, and for others who was mixed up in this wicked plot. And -I don’t want them to come a-hunting here. I don’t want my house named -for a meeting-place of traitors, as you’ve made it, taking advantage -of me that haven’t a man to protect me, and all the while deceiving -me with your smooth pleasantness. If it wasn’t for that, I’d inform -the Justices myself at once. You may be thankful that I want to keep -the good name of my house, if I can. And that’s the only reason for my -silence. But you’ll go to-day or maybe I’ll think better of it yet.”</p> - -<p>She picked up the empty tankard, and reached the door before he could -find words in his numbed brain to answer her. On the threshold she -paused.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bring you your score presently,” she said. “When you’ve settled -that, you may pack and quit.” She went out, slamming the door. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> - -<p>The score! It was a small thing compared with that terrible menace of -gaol and gallows. It mattered little that—save in intent—he was still -completely innocent of any complicity in the rash republican plot which -had been discovered. Let him be denounced for association with Tucker -and Rathbone, and there would be no mercy for the son of Randal Holles -the Regicide. His parentage and antecedents would supply the crowning -evidence against him. That was plain to him. And yet the score, whilst -a comparatively negligible evil, was the more immediate, and therefore -gave him at the moment the greater preoccupation.</p> - -<p>He knew that it would be heavy, and he knew that the balance of his -resources was utterly inadequate to meet it. Yet unless it were met -he could be assured that Mrs. Quinn would show him no mercy; and this -fresh trick of Fate’s, in bringing him into association with Tucker on -the very eve of that conspirator’s arrest, placed him in the power of -Mrs. Quinn to an extent that did not bear considering.</p> - -<p>It was, of course, he reflected bitterly, the sort of thing that must -be for ever happening to him. And then he addressed his exasperated -mind to the discovery of means to pay his debt. Like many another -in his case, it but remained for him to realize such effects as he -possessed. Cursing his confident extravagance of the morning, he set -about it.</p> - -<p>And so you behold him presently, arrayed once more in the shabby -garments that he had thought to have discarded for ever, emerging from -the Paul’s Head carrying a bundle that contained his finery, and making -his way back to those shops in Paternoster Row where it had been so -lately and so jubilantly acquired.</p> - -<p>Here he discovered that there is a world of difference between the -treatment offered to a seller and to a buyer. He further discovered -that the main value of a suit of clothes would appear to be the mere -bloom upon it. Once this has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> been a little rubbed, the garments -become, apparently, next-door to worthless. The fact is that he was a -soldier who understood soldiering, and they were traders who understood -trade. And the whole art of successful trading, in whatsoever degree, -lies in a quick perception of the necessities of others and a bowelless -readiness to take advantage of them.</p> - -<p>Ten pounds was all that he could raise on gear for which a few hours -ago he had paid close upon thirty. Perforce, however ill-humoured, he -must sell. He was abusive over the negotiations; at one moment he was -almost threatening. But the merchant with whom he made his traffic was -not at all disturbed. Insults were nothing to him, so that he made his -profit.</p> - -<p>Back to the Paul’s Head went Colonel Holles to find his hostess -awaiting him with the score. And the sight of the latter turned him -almost sick. It was the culminating blow of a day of evil fortune. He -studied the items carefully, endeavouring to keep the dismay from his -countenance, for Mrs. Quinn was observing him with those hard blue -eyes, her lips compressed into a tight, ominous line.</p> - -<p>He marvelled at the prodigious amount of Canary and ale that he had -consumed during those weeks. Irrelevantly he fell to considering that -this very costly thirst of his was the result of a long sojourn in the -Netherlands, where the habit of copious drinking is a commonplace. -Then he came back to the main consideration, which was that the total -exceeded twenty pounds. It was a prodigious sum. He had expected -a heavy score; but hardly so heavy a score as this. He conceived -that perhaps Mrs. Quinn had included in it the wound to her tender -susceptibilities, and he almost wondered whether marriage with her, -after all, were not the only remaining refuge, assuming that she would -still consider marriage. Short of that, he did not see how he was to -pay.</p> - -<p>He raised eyes that, despite him, were haggard and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>betraying from -those terrifying figures, and met that baleful glance of the lady who, -because she could not be his wife, was now his relentless enemy. Her -glance scared him more than her total. He lowered his eyes again to the -lesser evil and cleared his throat.</p> - -<p>“This is a very heavy bill,” he said.</p> - -<p>“It is,” she agreed. “You have drunk heavily and otherwise received -good entertainment. I hope you’ll fare as well at the Bird in Hand.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Quinn, I will be frank. My affairs have gone awry through no -fault of my own. His Grace of Albemarle, upon whom I had every reason -to depend, has failed me. At the moment I am a man ... hard-pressed. I -am almost without resources.”</p> - -<p>“That nowise troubled you whiles you ate and drank of the best my house -could offer. Yours is a tale that has been told afore by many a pitiful -rogue....”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Quinn!” he thundered.</p> - -<p>But she went on, undaunted, joying to deal a wound to the pride of this -man who had lacerated her own pride so terribly.</p> - -<p>“ ... and there’s a way to deal wi’ rogues. You think that, perhaps -because I am a woman, I am soft and tender; and so perhaps I am with -them as deserves it. But I think I know your sort, Colonel Holles—if -so be that you be a colonel. You’re not new to a house like mine; but -I’ve never yet been bested by any out-at-elbow ruffler, and I’ll see to -it as how you don’t best me now. I’ll say no more, though I could. I -could say a deal. But I’ll say only this: if you gives me trouble I’ll -ha’ the constable to you, and maybe there’ll be more than a matter of -this score to settle then. You know what I mean, my man. You know what -I could say an’ I would. So my advice to you is that you pay your bill -without whimperings that won’t move me no more than they’ll move that -wooden table.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>Scorched with shame, he stood before her, curbing himself with -difficulty, for he could be very violent when provoked, though thanks -to an indolent disposition he did not permit himself to be provoked -very easily. He suppressed his fury now, realizing that to loose it -would be to have it recoil upon him and precipitate his ruin.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Quinn,” he answered as steadily as he could, “I have sold my gear -that I might pay my debt to you. Yet even so this debt exceeds the -amount of my resources.”</p> - -<p>“Sold your gear, have you?” She uttered a laugh that was like a -cough. “Sold the fine clothes you’d bought to impose upon them at -Whitehall, you mean. But you’ve not sold everything. There’s that jewel -a-flaunting in your ear that alone would pay my score twice over.”</p> - -<p>He started, and put a hand to the ear-ring—that ruby given to him as -a keepsake by the lovely, unknown royalist boy whose life he had saved -on the night after Worcester fight some fifteen years ago. The old -superstitions that his fancy had woven about it had placed it outside -his realizable assets. Even now, in this desperate pass, when reminded -of its value, the notion of selling it was repugnant to him. And yet -perhaps it was against this very dreadful need, perhaps it was that he -might save his neck—for she made it clear to him that nothing less was -now at stake—that in all these years he had hugged that jewel against -every blow of fortune.</p> - -<p>His head drooped. “I had forgot,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Forgot?” she echoed in tones that plainly called him a liar and a -cheat. “Ah, well, ye’re reminded of it now.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you for the reminder. It ... it shall be sold at once. Your -score shall be paid to-day. I ... I am sorry that, that.... Oh, no -matter.”</p> - -<p>He flung out upon the business of finding a Jew who practised the -transmutation of jewels into gold.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">BUCKINGHAM’S HEROICS</span></h2> - -<p>Miss Sylvia Farquharson occupied very pleasant lodgings in Salisbury -Court, procured for her upon her accession to fame and some measure of -fortune by Betterton, who himself lived in a house opposite. And it was -in the doorway of Betterton’s house that she first beheld the lean and -wolfish face of Bates.</p> - -<p>This happened on that same morning of Colonel Holles’s disappointment -at the hands of Albemarle and subsequent tribulations at the hands of -Mrs. Quinn.</p> - -<p>Miss Farquharson was in need of certain dress materials which, she had -been informed, were to be procured at a certain mercer’s in Cheapside. -On this errand she came forth in the early afternoon of that day, and -entered the sedan-chair that awaited her at her door. As the chairmen -took up their burden it was that, looking from the unglazed window on -her left across towards the house of her friend Betterton, she beheld -that sly, evil face protruded from the shadows of the doorway as if -to spy upon her. The sight of it instinctively chilled her a moment, -and, again instinctively, she drew back quickly into the depths of the -chair. A moment later she was laughing at her own foolish fancies, -and upon that dismissed from her mind the memory of that evil-looking -watcher.</p> - -<p>It took her a full half-hour to reach her mercer’s at the sign of the -Silver Angel in Cheapside, for the chairmen moved slowly. It would have -been uncharitable to have urged them to go faster in the sweltering -heat, and uncharitableness was not in Miss Farquharson’s nature. Also -she was not pressed. And so she suffered herself to be borne in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -leisurely fashion along Paul’s Yard, whilst the preacher of doom on -the steps was still haranguing that crowd which, as we know, ended by -rising in mockery against him.</p> - -<p>When at last her chair was set down at the door of the Silver Angel, -she stepped out and passed in upon a business over which no woman -hurries.</p> - -<p>It may be well that Master Bates—who had come slinking after that -chair with three tough bullies following some distance behind him, and -another three following at a still greater distance—was something of a -judge of feminine nature, and so came to the conclusion that it would -perhaps be best part of an hour before Miss Farquharson emerged again. -He had dark, wicked little eyes that observed a deal, and very wicked -wits that were keenly alert. He had noted the little crowd about the -steps of Paul’s, he had heard the burden of the preacher’s message, -and those wicked inventive wits of his had perceived here a stage very -opportunely set for the nasty little comedy which he was to contrive -on His Grace of Buckingham’s behalf. It remained to bring the chief -actor—the Duke, himself—at once within reasonable distance of the -scene. Provided this could be contrived, all should now flow merrily as -a peal of wedding-bells.</p> - -<p>Master Bates slipped like a shadow into a porch, produced a pencil and -tablets, and set himself laboriously to scrawl three or four lines. He -folded his note, as one of the bullies, summoned by an unostentatious -signal, joined him there in that doorway.</p> - -<p>With the note Bates slipped a crown into the man’s hand.</p> - -<p>“This at speed to his grace,” he snapped. “Take a coach, man, and make -haste. Haste!”</p> - -<p>The fellow was gone in a flash, and Bates, leaning back in the shadow, -leisurely filled a pipe and settled down to his vigil. A little -lantern-jawed fellow he was, with leathery, shaven cheeks, and long, -wispy black hair that hung like <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>seaweed about his face and scraggy -neck. He was dressed in rusty black, in almost clerkly fashion, -which, together with his singular countenance and his round rather -high-crowned hat, gave him an air of fanatical piety.</p> - -<p>Miss Farquharson made no haste. An hour passed, and the half of a -second, before she came forth at last, followed by the mercer, laden -with parcels, which, together with herself, were packed into the chair. -The chairmen took up, and, whilst the mercer bowed himself double in -obsequious gratitude to the famous actress, they swung along westward -by the way they had come.</p> - -<p>Providence, it would almost seem, was on the Duke’s side that morning -to assist the subtle Bates in the stage-management of the affair. For -it was not more than half an hour since the removal of that citizen -who had been smitten with the pestilence at the very foot of Paul’s -steps when Miss Farquharson’s chair came past the spot, making its way -through a fear-ridden crowd fallen into voluble groups to discuss the -event.</p> - -<p>She became conscious of the sense of dread about her. The grave, -stricken faces of the men and women standing there in talk, with -occasional loudly uttered lamentations, drew her attention and set her -uneasily wondering and speculating upon the reason.</p> - -<p>Suddenly dominating all other sounds, a harsh, croaking voice arose -somewhere behind but very close to the chair:</p> - -<p>“There goes one of those who have drawn the judgment of the Lord upon -this unfortunate city!”</p> - -<p>She heard the cry repeated with little variation, again and yet again. -She saw the groups she was passing cease from their talk, and those -whose backs were towards her swing round and stand at gaze until it -seemed that every eye of all that motley crowd of citizens was directed -upon herself.</p> - -<p>Thus it was borne in upon her that it was herself this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> dreadful -pursuing voice behind her was denouncing, and, intimidated for all her -stout spirit under the dreadful stare of all those apparently hostile -eyes, she shrank back into the depths of the chair, and even dared to -draw one of its leather curtains the better to conceal herself.</p> - -<p>Again the voice beat upwards, shrilly, fiercely.</p> - -<p>“There sits a playhouse wanton in her silks and velvets, while the -God-fearing go in rags, and the wrath of Heaven smites us with a sword -of pestilence for the sin she brings among us!”</p> - -<p>Her chair rocked a little, as if her bearers were being hustled, for -in truth some three or four of the scurvier sort, those scourings of -the streets who are ever on the watch for fruitful opportunities of -turbulence, had joined that raving fanatic who followed her with his -denunciations, and were pressing now upon the chair. Miss Farquharson’s -fear increased. It requires no great imagination—and she possessed -imagination in abundance—to conceive what may happen to one at the -hands of a crowd whose passions have been inflamed. With difficulty -she commanded herself, repressing the heave of her bosom and the wild -impulse to scream out her fear.</p> - -<p>But her chairmen, stolid, massive fellows, who held her in the esteem -she commanded in all who knew her closely, plodded steadily onward -despite this jostling; and, what was more to their credit, they -continued to keep their tempers and to affect unconcern. They could not -believe that the people would turn upon a popular idol at the bidding -of this rusty black crow of a fanatic who came howling at their heels.</p> - -<p>But those few rogues who had joined him were being reinforced by -others who supported with inarticulate growls of menace the rascal’s -denunciations; and these grew fiercer at every moment. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is Sylvia Farquharson of the Duke’s Playhouse,” he cried. “A -daughter of Belial, a shameless queen. It is for the sins of her kind -that the hand of the Lord is heavy upon us. It is for her and those -like her that we are suffering and shall suffer until this city is -cleansed of its iniquities.”</p> - -<p>He was alongside of the chair now, brandishing a short cudgel, and Miss -Farquharson’s scared eyes had a glimpse of his malevolent face. To her -amazement she recognized it for the face that had peered at her two -hours ago from the shadows of Betterton’s house in Salisbury Square.</p> - -<p>“You have seen one of yourselves smitten down with the plague under -your very eyes,” he was ranting. “And so shall others be smitten to pay -for the sin of harlotry with which this city is corrupt.”</p> - -<p>Now, for all the fear that was besetting the naturally stout spirit in -her frail white body, Miss Farquharson’s wits were not at all impaired. -This fanatic—to judge him by the language he used—represented himself -as moved to wrath against her by something that had lately happened -in Paul’s Yard. His words implied that his denunciation was prompted -by that latest sign of Heaven’s indignation at the sins of the City. -But since he had been on the watch in Salisbury Court to observe her -going forth, and had followed her all the way thence, it was clear that -the facts were quite otherwise, and that he acted upon a premeditated -design.</p> - -<p>And now the knaves who had joined him were hustling the chairmen with -greater determination. The chair was tossed alarmingly, and Miss -Farquharson flung this way and that within it. Others from amongst the -spectators—from amongst those upon whom she had almost been depending -for ultimate protection—began to press upon the heels of her more -immediate assailants and insults were being flung at her by some of the -women in the crowd.</p> - -<p>Hemmed about by that hostile mob, the chair came at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> last perforce to a -standstill just opposite the Paul’s Head, on the steps of which Colonel -Holles was at that moment standing. He had been in the act of coming -forth upon the errand of finding a purchaser for his jewel, when his -attention was drawn by the hubbub, and he stood arrested, frowning and -observant.</p> - -<p>The scene nauseated him. The woman they were persecuting with their -insults and menaces might be no better than that dirty fanatic was -pronouncing her. But she was a woman and helpless. And apart from this -there was in all the world no vice that Holles found more hideous than -virtue driven to excess.</p> - -<p>Over the heads of the crowd he saw the wildly rocking chair set down at -last. Of its occupant he had but a confused glimpse, and in any case -the distance at which he stood would hardly have permitted him to make -out her face distinctly. But so much wasn’t necessary to conceive her -condition, her peril, and the torment of fear she was suffering at the -hands of those ignoble persecutors.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles thought he might find pleasant distraction, and at the -same time perform a meritorious deed, in slitting the ears of that -black fanatic who was whipping up the passions of the mob.</p> - -<p>But no sooner had he made up his mind to this, and before he could -stir a foot to carry out his intention, assistance came suddenly and -vigorously from another quarter. Precisely whence or how it came was -not easily determinable. The tall, graceful man in the golden periwig -with the long white ostrich plumes in his broad hat, seemed, together -with those who followed him, to materialize suddenly upon the spot, so -abrupt was his appearance. At a glance his dress proclaimed him some -great gentleman. He wore the tiny coat and kilt-like petticoat above -his breeches that marked him for a native of Whitehall. The sapphire -velvet of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> fabric was stiff with gold lace, and at waist and -breast and from the cuffs which ended at the elbow bulged forth a -marvel of dazzling linen, with a wealth of lace at the throat and a -hundred ribbons fluttering at his shoulders and his knees. The flash of -jewels rendered his figure still more dazzling: a great brooch of gems -secured the clump of ostrich plumes to his broad beaver, and of gems -were the buttons on his sleeves and in his priceless necktie.</p> - -<p>He had drawn his sword, and with the menace of this and of his voice, -combined with his imperiously commanding mien, he clove himself a way -through the press to the chair itself. After him, in plain striped -liveries with broad fawn hats, came four stalwart lads, obviously -lackeys with whips which they appeared nowise timid of employing. Their -lashes fell vigorously upon the heads and shoulders of that black -fanatic and those rough-looking knaves who more immediately supported -his attack upon the chair.</p> - -<p>Like an archangel Michael scattering a legion of demons did that gay -yet imposing rescuer scatter those unclean assailants of that helpless -lady. The bright blade of his sword whirled hither and thither, beating -ever a wider ring about the chair, and his voice accompanied it:</p> - -<p>“You mangy tykes! You filthy vermin! Stand back there! Back, and give -the lady air! Back, or by Heaven I’ll send some of you where you -belong.”</p> - -<p>They proved themselves as cowardly as they had lately been aggressive, -and they skipped nimbly beyond the reach of that darting point of his. -His followers fell upon them afterwards with their whips and drove them -still farther back, relentlessly, until they were absorbed and lost in -the ranks of the crowd of onlookers which in its turn fell back before -the continued menace of those impetuous grooms.</p> - -<p>The gentleman in blue swung to the chairmen.</p> - -<p>“Take up,” he bade them. And they, seeing themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> now delivered -from their assailants, and their main anxiety being to remove -themselves and their charge from so hostile a neighbourhood whilst they -might still enjoy the protection of this demigod, made haste to obey -him.</p> - -<p>His Grace of Buckingham—for already the people had recognized him, and -his name had been uttered with awe in their ranks—stepped ahead, and -waved back those who stood before him.</p> - -<p>“Away!” he bade them, with the air of a prince speaking to his grooms. -“Give room!” He disdained even to use the menace of his sword, which he -now carried tucked under his left arm. His voice and mien sufficed, and -a lane was opened in that living press through which he advanced with -calm assurance, the chairmen hurrying with their burden in his wake.</p> - -<p>The lackeys closed in behind the chair and followed to form a -rear-guard; but there was scarcely the need, for all attempt to hinder -or molest the chair was at an end. Indeed, none troubled to accompany -it farther. The people broke up into groups again, or moved away about -their business, realizing that here the entertainment was at an end. -The fanatic who had led the attack and the knaves who had joined him -had vanished suddenly, mysteriously, and completely.</p> - -<p>Of the very few spectators whom curiosity or interest still attracted -was Holles, and this perhaps chiefly because Miss Farquharson was being -carried in the direction in which his own business was taking him.</p> - -<p>He came down the steps of the inn, and followed leisurely at some -little distance.</p> - -<p>They swung steadily along as far as Paternoster Row, where the traffic -was slight. Here the Duke halted at last, and turned, and at a sign -from him the men set down the chair. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> - -<p>His grace advanced to the window, swept off his broad plumed hat, and -bowed until the golden curls of his periwig almost met across his face.</p> - -<p>Within the chair, still very pale, but quite composed again by now, sat -Miss Farquharson, regarding his grace with a very odd expression, an -expression best described as speculative.</p> - -<p>“Child,” he exclaimed, a hand upon his heart, a startled look on his -handsome face, “I vow that you have taught me the meaning of fear. For -I was never frightened in my life until to-day. What imprudence, my -dear Sylvia, to show yourself here in the City, when men’s minds are so -distempered by war and pestilence that they must be seeking scapegoats -wherever they can find them. None may call me devout, yet devout I -feel at this moment. From my soul I return thanks to Heaven that by a -miracle I chanced to be here to save you from this peril!”</p> - -<p>She leaned forward, and her hooded cloak of light silk, having fallen -back from head and shoulders, revealed the white lustre of her beauty. -She was smiling slightly, a smile that curled her delicate lip and -lent something hard and disdainful to eyes that naturally were soft -and gentle—long-shaped, rather wistful eyes of a deep colour that was -something between blue and green.</p> - -<p>“It was a most fortunate chance, your grace,” she said, almost -tonelessly.</p> - -<p>“Fortunate, indeed!” he fervently agreed with her, and, hat in hand, -dabbed his brow with a fine handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“Your grace was very opportunely at hand!”</p> - -<p>And now there was a world of mocking meaning in her tone. She -understood at last, she thought, upon whose behalf that fanatic had -spied upon her going forth, afterwards to follow and assail her, thus -providing occasion for this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> very romantic rescue. Having thus shrewdly -appraised the situation, the actress in her awoke to play her part in -it.</p> - -<p>And so she had mocked him with that phrase: “Your grace was very -opportunely at hand!”</p> - -<p>“I thank God for’t, and so may you, child,” was the quick answer, -ignoring the mockery, which had not escaped him.</p> - -<p>But Miss Farquharson was none so disposed, it seemed, to the devout -thanksgiving he advised.</p> - -<p>“Is your grace often east of Temple Bar?” was her next rallying -question.</p> - -<p>“Are you?” quoth he, possibly for lack of better answer.</p> - -<p>“So seldom that the coincidence transcends all that yourself or Mr. -Dryden could have invented for one of your plays.”</p> - -<p>“Life is marvellously coincident,” the Duke reflected, conceiving -obtuseness to be the proper wear for the innocence he pretended. -“Coincidence is the salt that rescues existence from insipidity.”</p> - -<p>“So? And it was to rescue this that you rescued me; and so that you -might have opportunity for rescuing me, no doubt yourself you contrived -the danger.”</p> - -<p>“I contrived the danger?” He was aghast. He did not at first -understand. “I contrived the danger! Child!” It was a cry of mingled -pain and indignation, and the indignation at least was not pretended. -The contempt of her tone had cut him like a whip. It made him see that -he was ridiculous in her eyes, and His Grace of Buckingham liked to be -ridiculous as little as another, perhaps less than most. “How can you -think it of me?”</p> - -<p>“Think it of you?” She was laughing. “Lord! I knew it, sir, the moment -I saw you take the stage at the proper cue—at what you would call the -dramatic moment. Enter hero, very gallant. Oh, sir, I am none so easily -cozened. I was a fool to allow myself to be deceived into fear by those -other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> silly mummers, the first murderer and his myrmidons. It was -poorly contrived. Yet it carried the groundlings in Paul’s Yard quite -off their feet, and they’ll talk of your brave carriage and mighty mien -for a whole day, at least. But you could scarce expect that it should -move me as well; since I am in the play, as it were.”</p> - -<p>It was said of him, and with truth, that he was the most impudent -fellow in England, this lovely, accomplished, foolish son of a man -whose face had made his fortune. Yet her raillery now put him out of -countenance, and it was only with difficulty that he could master the -fury it awoke in him. Yet master it he did, lest he should cut a still -sorrier figure.</p> - -<p>“I vow ... I vow you’re monstrously unjust,” he contrived at last to -stammer. “You ever have thought the worst of me. It all comes of that -cursed supper party and the behaviour of those drunken fools. Yet I -have sworn to you that it was through no fault of mine, that my only -satisfaction lay in your prompt departure from a scene with which I -would not for all the world have offended you. Yet, though I have sworn -it, I doubt if you believe me.”</p> - -<p>“Does your grace wonder?” she asked him coolly.</p> - -<p>He looked at her a moment with brooding, wicked eyes. Then he loosed -some little of his anger, but loosed it on a pretence.</p> - -<p>“I would to Heaven I had left you to those knaves that persecuted you.”</p> - -<p>She laughed outright. “I wonder what turn the comedy would have taken -then, had you failed to answer to your cue. Perhaps my persecutors -would have been put to the necessity of rescuing me, themselves, lest -they should incur your anger. That would have been diverting. Oh, -but enough!” She put aside her laughter. “I thank your grace for the -entertainment provided; and since it has proved <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>unprofitable I trust -your grace will not go to the pains of providing yet another of the -same kind. Oh, sir, if you can take shame for anything, take shame for -the dullness of your invention.”</p> - -<p>She turned from him with almost contemptuous abruptness to command the -chairman standing at her side.</p> - -<p>“Take up, Nathaniel. Let us on, and quickly, or I shall be late.”</p> - -<p>She was obeyed, and thus departed without so much as another glance for -the gay Duke of Bucks, who, too crestfallen to attempt to detain her, -or to renew his protestations, stood hat in hand, white with anger, -gnawing his lip, conscious, above all, that she had plucked from him a -mask that left him an object of derision and showed his face to appear -the face of a fool.</p> - -<p>In the background his lackeys sought with pains to preserve a proper -stolidity of countenance, whilst a few passersby paused to stare at -that splendid bareheaded figure of a courtliness rarely seen on foot in -the streets of the City. Conscious of their regard, investing it with a -greater penetration than it could possibly possess, his grace conceived -them all to be the mocking witnesses of his discomfiture.</p> - -<p>He ground his heel in a sudden spasm of rage, clapped on his hat, and -turned to depart, to regain his waiting coach. But suddenly his right -arm was seized in a firm grip, and a voice, in which quivered wonder, -and something besides, assailed his ears.</p> - -<p>“Sir! Sir!”</p> - -<p>He swung round, and glared into the shaven, aquiline face and -wonder-laden eyes of Colonel Holles, who had come up behind the -chair whilst the Duke was in conversation with its occupant, and had -gradually crept nearer as if drawn by some irresistible attraction.</p> - -<p>Amazed, the Duke looked him over from head to toe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Conceiving in this -shabby stranger another witness of his humiliation, his anger, seeking -a vent, flamed out.</p> - -<p>“What’s this?” he rasped. “Do you presume to touch me, sirrah?”</p> - -<p>The Colonel, never flinching as another might have done under a tone -that was harsh and arrogant as a blow, before eyes that blazed upon him -out of that white face, made answer simply:</p> - -<p>“I touched you once before, I think, and you suffered it with a better -grace. For then it was to serve you that I touched you.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! And it will be to remind me of it that you touch me now,” came our -fine gentleman’s quick, contemptuous answer.</p> - -<p>Stricken by the brutality of the words, Holles crimsoned slowly under -his tan, what time his steady glance returned the Duke’s contempt with -interest. Then, without answering, he swung on his heel to depart.</p> - -<p>But there was in this something so odd and so deliberately offensive -to one accustomed to be treated ever with the deepest courtesy that it -was now the Duke who caught him by the arm in a grip of sudden anger, -arresting his departure.</p> - -<p>“Sir! A moment!”</p> - -<p>They were face to face again, and now the arrogance was entirely on the -side of Holles. The Duke’s countenance reflected astonishment and some -resentment.</p> - -<p>“I think,” he said at last, “that you are something wanting in respect.”</p> - -<p>“There, at least your discernment is not at fault,” the Colonel -answered him.</p> - -<p>Deeper grew the Duke’s wonder. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, after -another pause.</p> - -<p>“I learnt it five minutes since.”</p> - -<p>“But I thought you said that you did me a service once.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That was many years ago. And I did not know then your name. Your grace -has probably forgotten.”</p> - -<p>Because of the disdainful tone he took, he commanded the respect and -attention of one who was a very master of disdain. Also the Duke’s -curiosity was deeply stirred.</p> - -<p>“Will you not assist my memory?” he invited, almost gently.</p> - -<p>The Colonel laughed a little grimly. Then shaking the Duke’s still -detaining grip without ceremony from his arm, he raised his hand, and -holding back the light brown curls, revealed his left ear and the long -ruby that adorned it.</p> - -<p>Buckingham stared an instant, then leaned nearer to obtain a closer -view, and he caught his breath in sudden surprise.</p> - -<p>“How came you by that jewel?” he asked, his eyes scanning the soldier’s -face as he spoke.</p> - -<p>And out of his abiding sense of injury the Colonel answered him:</p> - -<p>“It was given me after Worcester as a keepsake by an empty fribble -whose life I thought worth saving.”</p> - -<p>Oddly enough there was no answering resentment from his grace. Perhaps -his wonder overwhelmed and stilled at the moment every other emotion.</p> - -<p>“So! It was you!” His eyes continued to search that lean countenance. -“Aye!” he added after a moment, and it sounded like a sigh. “The man -had just such a nose and was of your inches. But in no other respect -do you look like the Cromwellian who befriended me that night. You had -no ringlets then. Your hair was cropped to a godly length, and.... -But you’re the man. How odd to meet you again thus! How passing odd!” -His grace seemed suddenly bemused. “They cannot err!” he muttered, -continuing to regard the Colonel from under knitted brows, and his eyes -were almost the eyes of a visionary. “I have been expecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> you,” he -said, and again he used that cryptic phrase: “They cannot err.”</p> - -<p>It was Holles’s turn to be surprised, and out of his surprise he spoke: -“Your grace has been expecting me?”</p> - -<p>“These many years. It was foretold me that we should meet again—aye, -and that for a time our lives should run intertwined in their courses.”</p> - -<p>“Foretold?” ejaculated Holles. Instantly he bethought him of the -superstitions which had made him cling to that jewel through every -stress of fortune. “How foretold? By whom?” he asked.</p> - -<p>The question seemed to arouse the Duke from the brooding into which he -had fallen.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” he said, “we cannot stand talking here. And we have not met -thus, after all these years, to part again without more.” His manner -resumed its normal arrogance. “If you have business, sir, it must wait -upon my pleasure. Come!”</p> - -<p>He took the Colonel by the arm, whilst over his shoulder he addressed -his waiting lackeys in French, commanding two of them to follow.</p> - -<p>Holles, unresisting, curious, bewildered, a man walking in a dream, -suffered himself to be led whither the other pleased, as a man lets -himself drift upon the bosom of the stream of Destiny.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">BUCKINGHAM’S GRATITUDE</span></h2> - -<p>In a room above-stairs which his grace had commanded in an inn at the -corner of Paternoster Row, they sat alone, the Duke of Buckingham and -the man to whom he owed his life. There was no doubt of the extent of -the debt, as both well knew. For on that night, long years ago, when -his grace lay faint and wounded on that stricken field of battle, -he had fallen a prey to a pair of those human jackals who scour the -battle-ground to strip the living and the dead. The young Duke had -sought gallantly enough, considering his condition, to defend himself -from their depredations, whereupon, whilst one of them held him down, -the other had bared a knife to make an end of his rash resistance. And -then out of the surrounding gloom had sprung young Holles, brought to -that spot by merest chance. His heavy cut-and-thrust blade had opened -the skull of the villain who wielded the knife, whereupon his fellow -had incontinently fled. Thereafter, half supporting, half carrying the -lovely wounded boy whom he had rescued, the young Cromwellian officer -had assisted him to the safety and shelter of a royalist yeoman’s -cottage. All this they both remembered, and upon this they dwelt a -moment now.</p> - -<p>A table stood between them, and on that table a quart of Burgundy which -the Duke had called for, that he might entertain his guest.</p> - -<p>“In my heart,” said Holles, “I always believed that we should meet -again one day; which is why I have clung to this jewel. Had I known -your name, I should have sought you out. As it was, I harboured the -conviction that Chance would bring me across your path.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not Chance. Destiny,” said his grace, with quiet conviction.</p> - -<p>“Why, Destiny, if you prefer to call it so. This jewel now—it is very -odd! I have clung to it through all these years, as I have said; I have -clung to it through some odd shifts which the sale of it might have -relieved: clung to it against the day when we should meet again, that -it might serve as my credential.” He did not add that to him the oddest -thing of all was that to-day, at the very moment of this meeting, he -was on his way to sell the jewel, compelled to it at last by direst -need.</p> - -<p>The Duke was nodding, his face thoughtful. “Destiny, you see. It was -preordained. The meeting was foretold. Did I not say so?”</p> - -<p>And again Holles asked him, as he had asked before: “Foretold by whom?”</p> - -<p>This time the Duke answered him.</p> - -<p>“By whom? By the stars. They are the only true prophets, and their -messages are plain to him who can read them. I suppose you never sought -that lore?”</p> - -<p>Holles stared at him a moment. Then he shook his head, and smiled in a -manner to imply his contempt of charlatanry.</p> - -<p>“I am a soldier, sir,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Why, so am I—when the occasion serves. But that does not prevent me -from being a reader of the heavens, a writer of verse, a law-giver in -the north, a courtier here, and several other things besides. Man in -his time plays many parts. Who plays one only may as well play none. To -live, my friend, you must sip at many wells of life.”</p> - -<p>He developed that thesis, discoursing easily, wittily, and with the -indefinable charm he could command, a charm which was fastening upon -our adventurer now even as it had fastened upon him years ago in that -hour of their brief but fateful meeting. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>“When just now you chanced upon me,” he concluded, “I was playing -hero and lover, author and mummer all in one, and playing them all so -unsuccessfully that I never found myself in a more vexatious part. -On my soul, if there lay no debt between us already, you must have -rendered me your debtor now that you can rescue my mind for an hour or -so from the tormenting thought of that sweet baggage who keeps me on -the rack. You saw, perhaps, how the little wanton used me.” He laughed, -and yet through his laughter ran a note of bitterness. “But I contrived -the mummery clumsily, as she reproached me. And no doubt I deserved to -be laughed off the stage, which is what happened. But she shall pay -me, and with interest, one of these fine days, for all the trouble she -has given me. She shall.... Oh, but a plague on the creature! It is of -yourself, sir, that I would hear. What are you now, that were once a -Commonwealth man?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody’s man at present. I have seen a deal of service since those -days, both at home and abroad, yet it has brought me small gear, as you -can see for yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Faith, yes.” Buckingham regarded him more critically. “I should not -judge your condition to be prosperous.”</p> - -<p>“You may judge it to be desperate and never fear to exaggerate.”</p> - -<p>“So?” The Duke raised his eyebrows. “Is it so bad? I vow I am grieved.” -His face settled into lines of courteous regret. “But it is possible I -may be of service to you. There is a debt between us. I should welcome -the opportunity to discharge it. What is your name, sir? You have not -told me.”</p> - -<p>“Holles—Randal Holles, lately a colonel of horse in the Stadtholder’s -service.”</p> - -<p>The Duke frowned reflectively. The name had touched a chord of memory -and set it faintly vibrating in his brain. Awhile the note eluded him. -Then he had it. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Randal Holles?” he echoed slowly, questioningly. “That was the name of -a regicide who.... But you cannot be he. You are too young by thirty -years....”</p> - -<p>“He was my father,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” The Duke considered him blankly. “I do not wonder that you -lack employment here in England. My friend, with the best intentions -to repay you the great service that you did me, this makes it very -difficult.”</p> - -<p>The new-risen hope perished again in the Colonel’s face.</p> - -<p>“It is as I feared....” he was beginning gloomily, when the Duke leaned -forward, and set a hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“I said difficult, my friend. I did not say impossible. I admit the -impossibility of nothing that I desire, and I swear that I desire -nothing at present more ardently than your better fortune. Meanwhile, -Colonel Holles, that I may serve you, I must know more of you. You -have not told me yet how Colonel Holles, sometime of the Army of the -Commonwealth, and more lately in the service of the Stadtholder, -happens to be endangering his neck in the London of Old Rowley—this -King whose memory for injuries is as endless as a lawsuit.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles told him. Saving the matter of how he had been tempted -to join the ill-starred Danvers conspiracy under persuasion of Tucker -and Rathbone, he used the utmost candour, frankly avowing the mistakes -he had made by following impulses that were never right. He spoke of -the ill-luck that had dogged him, to snatch away each prize in the -moment that he put forth his hand to seize it, down to the command in -Bombay which Albemarle had already practically conferred upon him.</p> - -<p>The debonair Duke was airily sympathetic. He condoled and jested in a -breath, his jests being in themselves a promise that all this should -now be mended. But when Holles came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> to the matter of the Bombay -command, his grace’s laughter sounded a melancholy note.</p> - -<p>“And it was I who robbed you of this,” he cried. “Why, see how -mysteriously Destiny has been at work! But this multiplies my debt. It -adds something for which I must make amends. Rest assured that I shall -do so. I shall find a way to set you on the road to fortune. But we -must move cautiously, as you realize. Depend upon me to move surely, -none the less.”</p> - -<p>Holles flushed this time in sheer delight. Often though Fortune had -fooled him, yet she had not utterly quenched his faith in men. Thus, -miraculously, in the eleventh hour had salvation come to him, and it -had come through that precious ruby which a wise intuition had made him -treasure so tenaciously.</p> - -<p>The Duke produced a purse of green silk netting, through the meshes of -which glowed the mellow warmth of gold.</p> - -<p>“Meanwhile, my friend—as an earnest of my good intent....”</p> - -<p>“Not that, your grace.” For the second time that day Holles waved back -a proffered purse, his foolish pride in arms. Throughout his career he -had come by money in many questionable ways, but never by accepting it -as a gift from one whose respect he desired to preserve. “I am in no -such immediate want. I ... I can contrive awhile.”</p> - -<p>But His Grace of Buckingham was of a different temper from His Grace of -Albemarle. He was as prodigal and lavish as the other was parsimonious, -and he was not of those who will take a refusal.</p> - -<p>He smiled a little at the Colonel’s protestations, and passed to a -tactful, ingratiating insistence with all the charm of which he could -be master.</p> - -<p>“I honour you for your refusal, but....” He continued to hold out the -purse. “See. It is not a gift I offer you, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> an advance, a trifling -loan, which you shall repay me presently when I shall have made it easy -for you to so do. Come, sir, there is that between us which is not to -be repaid in gold. Your refusal would offend me.”</p> - -<p>And Holles, be it confessed, was glad enough to have the path thus -smoothed for his self-respect.</p> - -<p>“As a loan, then, since you are so graciously insistent....”</p> - -<p>“Why, what else do you conceive I had in mind?” His grace dropped the -heavy purse into the hand that was at last held out to receive it, and -rose. “You shall hear from me again, Colonel, and as soon as may be. -Let me but know where you are lodged.”</p> - -<p>Holles considered a second. He was leaving the Paul’s Head, and it had -been his announced intention to remove himself to the Bird in Hand, a -humble hostelry where lodgings were cheap. But he loved good food and -wine as he loved good raiment, and he would never lodge in so vile a -house save under the harsh compulsion of necessity. Now, with this -sudden accession of fortune, master of this heavy purse and assured of -more to follow soon, that obnoxious necessity was removed. He bethought -him of, and decided upon, another house famous for its good cheer.</p> - -<p>“Your grace will find me at The Harp in Wood Street,” he announced.</p> - -<p>“There look to hear from me, and very soon.”</p> - -<p>They left the tavern together, and the Duke went off to his coach, -which had been brought thither for him, his French lackeys trotting -beside it, whilst Colonel Holles, with his head in the clouds and a -greater swagger than ever in his port to emphasize the shabby condition -of his person, rolled along towards Paul’s Yard, fingering the jewel in -his ear, which there no longer was the need to sell, although there was -no longer the need to retain it, since it had fulfilled, at last, after -long years, Destiny’s purpose with himself. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus in high good-humour he strutted into the Paul’s Head, to plunge -into a deplorable scene with Mrs. Quinn. It was the jewel—this fateful -jewel—that precipitated the catastrophe. The sight of it inflamed her -anger, driving her incontinently to unwarranted conclusions.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t sold it!” she shrilled as he stepped into the back parlour -where she was at the moment stirring, and she pointed to the ear-ring, -which glowed like an ember under a veil of his brown hair. “You’ve -changed your mind. You think to come whimpering here again, that you -may save the trinket at my cost.” And then the devil whispered an -unfortunate thought, and so begat in her a sudden furious jealousy. -Before he could answer her, before he could recover from the gaping -amazement in which he stood to receive the onslaught of her wrath, she -was sweeping on: “I understand!” She leered an instant evilly. “It’s -a love-token, eh? The gift of some fat Flemish burgomaster’s dame, -belike, whom ye no doubt cozened as ye would have cozened me. That’s -why ye can’t part with it—not even to pay me the money you owe for -bed and board, for the food ye’ve guzzled and the wine ye swilled, ye -good-for-nothing out-at-elbow jackanapes. But ye’ve had your warning, -and since ye don’t heed it ye’ll take the....”</p> - -<p>“Hold your peace, woman,” he interrupted, thundering, and silenced -her by his sudden show of passion. He advanced upon her, so that she -recoiled in some alarm, yet bridling even then. Then as suddenly he -checked, curbed himself, and laughed. Forth from his pocket he lugged -the heavy ducal purse, slid back the gold rings that bound it and -brought the broad yellow pieces into view at its gaping mouth.</p> - -<p>“What is the total of this score of yours?” he asked contemptuously, -in the remnants of his anger. “Name it, take your money, and give me -peace.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<p>But she was no longer thinking of her score. She was stricken with -amazement at the sight of the purse he held, and the gold with which -it bulged. Round-eyed she stared at it, and then at him. And then, -because she could not conjecture the source of this sudden wealth, -she must assume the worst, with the readiness to which such minds as -hers are prone. The suspicion narrowed her blue eyes; it settled into -conviction, and fetched an unpleasant curl to the lips of her broad -mouth.</p> - -<p>“And how come you by this gold?” she asked him, sinisterly quiet.</p> - -<p>“Is that your affair, ma’am?”</p> - -<p>“I thought you was above purse-cutting,” she said, mightily disdainful. -“But it seems I was as deceived in you there as in other ways.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you impudent bawd!” he roared in his rage, and turned her livid -by the epithet.</p> - -<p>“You vagrant muck-rake, is that a word for an honest woman?”</p> - -<p>“Honest, you thieving drab! Do you boast yourself honest? Your cheating -score gives the lie to that. Give me the total of it, that I may pay -the swindling sum, and shake the dust of your tavern from my heels.”</p> - -<p>That, as you realize, was but the beginning of a scene of which I -have no mind to give you all the details. Some of them are utterly -unprintable. Her voice shrilled up like an oyster-woman’s, drawing the -attention of the few who occupied the common room, and fetching Tim the -drawer in alarm to the door of the little parlour.</p> - -<p>And for all his anger, Colonel Holles began to be vaguely alarmed, for -his conscience, as you know, was not altogether easy, and appearances -might easily be construed against him.</p> - -<p>“You thieving, brazen traitor,” she was bawling. “Do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> you think to come -roaring it in here at me, you that have turned my reputable house into -a den of treason! I’ll learn you manners, you impudent gallow’s-bird.” -And she then caught sight of Tim’s scared face looking round the -opening door. “Tim, fetch the constable,” she bawled. “The gentleman -shall shift his lodgings to Newgate, which is better suited to his -kind. Fetch the constable, I tell you. Run, lad.”</p> - -<p>Tim departed. So did the Colonel, realizing suddenly that there would -be no profit in remaining. He emptied the half of the contents of the -ducal purse into his palm, and, as Jupiter wooed Danaë, but without any -of Jupiter’s amorous intention, he scattered it upon and about her in a -golden shower.</p> - -<p>“There’s to stop your noisy, scolding mouth!” he cried. “Pay yourself -with that, you hag. And the devil take you!”</p> - -<p>He flung out in a towering rage, almost on the very heels of Tim; and -of the half-dozen men in the common room not one dared to dispute his -passage. He gained the street, and was gone, leaving behind him some -odds and ends of gear as a memento of his eventful passage, and a -hostess reduced to tears of angry exhaustion.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">DESPAIR</span></h2> - -<p>For three weeks Colonel Holles waited in vain at The Harp in Wood -Street for the promised message from His Grace of Buckingham, and his -anxieties began to grow at last in a measure as he saw his resources -dwindling. For he had practised no husbanding of his comparatively -slender funds. He was well-lodged, ate and drank of the best, ruffled -it in one or the other of two handsome suits which he had purchased -from the second-hand clothiers in Birchin Lane,—considering this -more prudent and economical than a return to the shops of Paternoster -Row,—and he had even indulged with indifferent fortune a passion for -gaming, which was one of his besetting sins.</p> - -<p>Hence in the end he found himself fretted by the continued silence of -the Duke who had led him into so confident a state of hope. And he -had anxieties on another score. There was, he knew, a hue-and-cry set -afoot by the vindictive fury of Mrs. Quinn, and it was solely due to -the fact that his real whereabouts were unknown to her that he had -escaped arrest. He was aware that search for him had been made at the -Bird in Hand, whither he had announced to her his intention of removing -himself. That the search had been abandoned he dared not assume. At -any moment it might result in his discovery and seizure. If it had not -hitherto been more vigorously prosecuted, it was, he supposed, because -there were other momentous matters to engage the public attention. For -these were excited, uneasy days in London.</p> - -<p>On the third of the month the people had been startled in the City by -the distant boom of guns, which had endured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> throughout the day to -intimate that the Dutch and English fleets were engaged and rather -alarmingly close at hand. The engagement, as you know, was somewhere -off the coast in the neighbourhood of Harwich, and it ended in heavy -loss to the Dutch, who drew off back to the Texel. There were, of -course, the usual exaggerations on both sides, and both English and -Dutch claimed a complete victory and lighted bonfires. Our affair, -however, is not with what was happening in Holland. In London from the -8th June, when first the news came of the complete rout of the Dutch -and the destruction of half their ships, until the 20th, which was -appointed as a thanksgiving day for that great victory, there were high -junketings over the business, junketings which reached their climax -at Whitehall on the 16th to welcome back the victorious Duke of York, -returning from sea—as Mr. Pepys tells us—all fat and lusty and ruddy -from being in the sun.</p> - -<p>And well it was—or perhaps not—that there should have been such -excitements to keep the mind of the people diverted from the thing -happening in their midst, to blind them to the spread of the plague, -which, if slow, was nevertheless relentlessly steady, a foe likely to -prove less easily engaged and beaten than the Dutch.</p> - -<p>After the wild public rejoicings of the 20th, people seemed suddenly to -awaken to their peril. It may be that the sense of danger and dismay -had its source in Whitehall, which was emptying itself rapidly now. -The Court removed itself to the more salubrious air of Salisbury, -and throughout the day on the 21st and again on the 22d there was a -constant westward stream of coaches and wagons by Charing Cross, laden -with people departing from the infected town to seek safety in the -country.</p> - -<p>That flight struck dismay into the City, whose inhabitants felt -themselves in the position of mariners abandoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> aboard a ship that -is doomed. Something approaching panic ensued as a consequence of the -orders promulgated by the Lord Mayor and the measures taken to combat -the dread disease. Sir John Lawrence had been constrained to issue -stringent regulations, to appoint examiners and searchers, and to take -measures for shutting up and isolating infected houses—measures so -rigorous that they finally dispelled any remains of the fond illusion -that there was immunity within the walls of the City itself.</p> - -<p>A wholesale flight followed. Never were horses in such request in -London, and never did their hire command such prices, and daily now at -Ludgate, Aldgate, over London Bridge, and by every other exit from the -City was there that same congestion of departing horsemen, pedestrians, -coaches, and carts that had earlier been seen at Charing Cross. A -sort of paralysis settled upon London life and the transaction of its -business by the rapidly thinning population. In the suburbs it was -reported that men were dying like flies at the approach of winter.</p> - -<p>Preachers of doom multiplied, and they were no longer mocked or pelted -with offal, but listened to in awe. And so reduced in ribaldry were -the prentices of London that they even suffered a madman to run naked -through the streets about Paul’s with a cresset of live coals upon his -head, screaming that the Lord would purge with fire the City of its -sins.</p> - -<p>But Colonel Holles was much too obsessed by his own affairs to be -deeply concerned with the general panic. When at last he heard of the -exodus from Whitehall, he bestirred himself to action, from fear lest -His Grace of Buckingham—in whom his last hope now rested—should -depart with the others. Therefore he ventured to recall himself in a -letter to the Duke. For two days he waited in vain for a reply, and -then, as despondency was settling upon him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> came an added blow to -quicken this into utter and absolute despair.</p> - -<p>He returned after dusk one evening from an expedition in the course -of which he had sold at last that jewel which had now served whatever -purpose he had fondly imagined that Fate intended by it, so that its -conversion into money was the last use to which it could be put. He had -made an atrociously bad bargain, for these were not times—the buyer -assured him—in which folk were thinking of adornments. As he reëntered -the inn, Banks, the landlord, approached him, and drew him on one side -out of sight and earshot of the few who lingered in the common room.</p> - -<p>“There’s been two men here seeking you, sir.”</p> - -<p>Holles started in eagerness, his mind leaping instantly to the Duke -of Buckingham. Observing this, the landlord, grave-faced, shook his -head. He was a corpulent, swarthy man of a kindly disposition, and it -may be that this wistful guest of his had commanded instinctively his -sympathy. He leaned closer, lowering his voice, although there was -hardly the need.</p> - -<p>“They was messengers from Bow Street,” he said. “They didn’t say so. -But I know them. They asked a mort o’ questions. How long you had been -in my house, and whence you came and what you did. And they ordered -me at parting to say nothing about this to you. But....” The landlord -shrugged his great shoulders, and curled his lip in contempt of that -injunction. His dark eyes were on the Colonel, and he observed the -latter’s sudden gravity. Holles was not exercised by any speculations -on the score of the business that had brought those minions of justice. -His association with Tucker and Rathbone had been disclosed, possibly -at the trial of the former, who had just been convicted and sentenced -to be hanged and quartered. And he had no single doubt that, if he once -came within the talons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> of the law, his own conviction would follow, -despite his innocence.</p> - -<p>“I thought, sir,” the landlord was saying, “that I’d warn you. So -that if so be you’ve done aught to place yourself outside the law, ye -shouldn’t stay for them to take you. I don’t want to see you come to no -harm.”</p> - -<p>Holles collected himself. “Mister Banks,” he said, “ye’re a good -friend, and I thank you. I have done nothing. Of that I can assure you. -But appearances may be made to damn me. The unfortunate Mr. Tucker was -an old friend of mine....”</p> - -<p>The landlord’s sigh interrupted him. “Aye, sir, I thought it might -be that, from something they let fall. That’s why I take the risk of -telling you. In God’s name, sir, be off whiles ye may.”</p> - -<p>It took the Colonel a little by surprise. Here for once Fortune was his -friend in that the landlord of The Harp was a secret sympathizer with -the republicans.</p> - -<p>He took the man’s advice, paid his score—which absorbed most of the -proceeds of the jewel—and, without so much as waiting to collect what -gear he possessed, he set out at once from quarters grown suddenly so -very dangerous.</p> - -<p>He was not a moment too soon. Even as he stepped into the gloom of the -street, two shadowy forms loomed abruptly before him to bar his way, a -lantern was suddenly uncovered, and thrust into his face.</p> - -<p>“Stand, sir, in the King’s name!” a gruff voice commanded him.</p> - -<p>He could not see whether they had weapons in their hands or not, nor -did he wait to ascertain. At a blow he sent the lantern flying, at -another he felled the man who had advanced it. The arms of the second -messenger wound themselves about his body, and the fellow steadied -himself to throw him. But before that could happen Holles had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> knocked -the breath out of the man’s body by a jolt of his elbow, and, as -the catchpoll’s arms slackened in their grip, he was flung off and -violently hurled against the wall. As you conceive, Holles did not stay -to verify what damage he had done. He was off like a hare, down the -dark street, whilst behind him came shouts and the patter of running -feet. The pursuit was not long maintained, and presently the Colonel -was able with safety to resume a more leisurely and dignified progress. -But fear went with him, driving him ever farther into the depths of the -City, and it kept him company throughout the night. He lay in a tavern -in the neighbourhood of Aldgate, and reflected grimly upon the choice -position in which he found himself. Before dawn he had reached the -conclusion that there was but one thing for a sane man in his position -to do, and that was to quit this England where he found nothing but -bitterness and disappointment. He cursed the ill-conceived patriotism -that had brought him home, pronounced love of country a delusion, and -fools all those who yielded to it. He would depart at once, and never -trouble this evil land of his birth again. Now that the Dutch were back -in the Texel and the seas open once more, there need be no difficulty; -not even his lack of funds should prove an obstacle. He would ship -as one of the hands aboard some vessel bound for France. With this -intention he made his way to Wapping betimes next morning.</p> - -<p>Vessels there were, and hands were needed, but no master would ship him -until he had procured himself a certificate of health. The plague had -rendered this precaution necessary, not only for those going abroad, -but even for such as desired to go into the country, where no town or -village now would receive any man who came from London unless he came -provided with a certificate that pronounced him clean.</p> - -<p>It was a vexatious complication. But it must be accepted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> So the -Colonel trudged wearily to the Guildhall, going by sparsely tenanted, -darksome city streets, where he saw more than one door marked with a -cross and guarded by a watchman who warned all wayfarers to keep their -distance. And the wayfarers, of whom he met by no means many, showed -themselves eager enough to keep to the middle of the street, giving -as wide a berth as possible, not only to those infected dwellings, -but also to all persons whom they might chance to meet. Not a few of -those whom Holles found abroad were officials whose appointment the -pestilence had rendered necessary—examiners, searchers, keepers, and -chirurgeons—each and all of them distinguishable at a glance by a -red wand borne well displayed as the law prescribed, and all of them -shunned as if they were themselves plague-stricken.</p> - -<p>It made the Colonel realize the extent of the spread of this infection -which was now counting its victims by thousands. The extent of the -panic he realized when he came at last to the Guildhall, and found it -besieged by coaches, sedan-chairs, and a vast mob on foot. All here -were come upon the same errand as himself; to procure the Lord Mayor’s -certificate of health that should enable them to escape from this -stricken city.</p> - -<p>Most of the day he waited in that throng, enduring the stifling heat -and the pangs of hunger and of thirst. For the only hawkers moving in -the crowd were vendors of preventive medicines and amulets against the -plague. Instead of the cry of “Sweet oranges,” which in normal times -would have been heard in such a gathering, and which he would now have -welcomed, here the only cries were: “Infallible Preservative Against -Infection,” “The Royal Antidote,” “Sovereign Cordial Against the -Corruption of the Air,” and the like.</p> - -<p>He could ill afford to purchase the favour of the ushers and bribe them -into according him some precedence. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> must wait and take his turn -with the humblest there, and, as he had arrived late, his turn did not -seem likely to come that day at all.</p> - -<p>Towards evening—unlike the more prudent, who determined to remain in -their ranks all night, that they might be among the first served next -day—he departed empty-handed and disgruntled. Yet within the hour he -was to realize that perhaps he had been better served by Fate than he -suspected.</p> - -<p>In a sparsely tenanted eating-house in Cheapside, where he sought to -stay the pangs of thirst and hunger—for he had neither eaten nor drunk -since early morning—he overheard some scraps of conversation between -two citizens at a neighbouring table. They were discussing an arrest -that had been made that day, and in the course of this they let fall -the words which gave pause to Colonel Holles.</p> - -<p>“But how was he taken? How discovered?” one of them asked.</p> - -<p>“Why, at the Guildhall, when he sought a certificate of health that -should enable him to leave Town. I tell you it’s none so easy to leave -London nowadays, as evil-doers are finding when they attempt it. Sooner -or later they’ll get Danvers this way. They’re on the watch for him, -aye, and for others too.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles pushed away his platter, his appetite suddenly dead. -He was in a trap, it seemed, and it had needed those words overheard -by chance to make him realize it. To attempt flight was but to court -discovery. True, it might be possible to obtain a certificate of health -in a false name. But, on the other hand, it might not. There must be -inquisition into a person’s immediate antecedents if only to verify -that he was clean of infection, and this inquisition must speedily -bring to light any prevarication or assumption of false identity. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - -<p>And so he was on the horns of a dilemma. If he remained in London, -sooner or later he would be run to earth by those who sought him, -who would be seeking him more relentlessly than ever now, after his -manhandling of those messengers of the law last night. If he attempted -to go, he delivered himself up to justice by the very act.</p> - -<p>He determined, after much gloomy cogitation, to seek the protection of -Albemarle in this desperate pass, and with that intent went forth. He -persisted in it until he reached Charing Cross, when a doubt assailed -him. He remembered Albemarle’s selfish caution. What if Albemarle -should refuse to take the risk of believing his innocence, considering -the nature of the alleged offence? He hardly thought that Albemarle -would push caution quite so far, especially with the son of his old -friend—though it was a friend the Duke must disown in these days. But -because he perceived the risk he hesitated, and finally determined that -first he would make one last attempt to move the Duke of Buckingham.</p> - -<p>Acting upon that impulse, he turned into the courtyard of Wallingford -House.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">THE SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS</span></h2> - -<p>His Grace of Buckingham had not accompanied the Court in its flight to -Salisbury. His duties, indeed, recalled him to his lord-lieutenancy in -York. But he was as deaf to the voice of duty as to that of caution. -He was held fast in London, in the thraldom of his passion for Miss -Farquharson, and enraged because that passion prospered not at all. It -had prospered less than ever since his attempt to play the hero and -rescuer of beauty in distress had ended in making him ridiculous in the -lady’s eyes.</p> - -<p>It was his obsession on the score of Miss Farquharson that was -responsible for his neglect of the letter that Holles had written to -him. That appeal had reached him at a moment when he was plunged into -dismay by the news that Sir John Lawrence’s orders had gone forth -that all theatres and other places of assembly should close upon the -following Saturday, as a very necessary measure in the Lord Mayor’s -campaign against the plague. The Court was no longer present to oppose -the order, and it is doubtful if it would have dared still to oppose -it in any case. Now the closing of the theatres meant the withdrawal -of the players from Town, and with that the end of his grace’s -opportunities. Either he must acknowledge defeat, or else act promptly.</p> - -<p>One course, one simple and direct course, there was, which he would -long ago have taken but for the pusillanimous attention he had paid -to Mr. Etheredge’s warning. In a manner the closing of the theatre -favoured this course, and removed some of the dangers attending it, -dangers which in no case would long have weighed with His Grace of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -Buckingham, accustomed as he was to flout all laws but those of his own -desires.</p> - -<p>He took his resolve at last and sent for the subtle Bates, who was the -Chaffinch of Wallingford House. He gave him certain commands—whose -full purport Master Bates did not completely apprehend—in the matter -of a house. That was on the Monday of the week whose Saturday was to -see the closing of the theatres. It was the very day on which Holles -made his precipitate departure from The Harp.</p> - -<p>On Tuesday morning the excellent and resourceful Bates was able to -report to his master that he had found precisely such a domicile as -his grace required—though why his grace should require it Bates could -not even begin to surmise. It was a fairly spacious and excellently -equipped dwelling in Knight Ryder Street, lately vacated by a -tenant who had removed himself into the country out of dread of the -pestilence. The owner was a certain merchant in Fenchurch Street, who -would be glad enough to let the place on easy terms, considering how -impossible it was just at present to find tenants for houses in the -City or its liberties.</p> - -<p>Bates had pursued his inquiries with characteristic discretion, as he -now assured his grace, without allowing it to transpire on whose behalf -he was acting.</p> - -<p>His grace laughed outright at the assurance and all that it implied -that Bates had taken for granted.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re growing a very competent scoundrel in my service.”</p> - -<p>Bates bowed, not without a tinge of mockery. “I am glad to merit your -grace’s approval,” said he dryly. There was a strain of humorous -insolence in the fellow, of which the Duke was disposed to be tolerant; -perhaps because nothing else was possible with one so intimately -acquainted with his conscience.</p> - -<p>“Aye. Ye’re a trustworthy rogue. The house will do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> admirably, though I -should have preferred a less populous district.”</p> - -<p>“If things continue as at present, your grace should have no cause for -complaint on that score. Soon the City will be the most depopulated -spot in England. Already more than half the houses in Knight Ryder -Street are empty. I trust your grace is not thinking of residing there.”</p> - -<p>“Not ... not exactly.” His grace was frowning, thoughtfully. “There’s -no infection in the street, I hope?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. But there’s an abundant fear of it, as everywhere else in -the City. This merchant in Fenchurch Street didn’t trouble to conceal -the opinion that I was crazy to be seeking a house in London at such a -time.”</p> - -<p>“Pooh, pooh!” His grace dismissed the matter of fear contemptuously. -“These cits frighten themselves into the plague. It’s opportune enough. -It will serve to keep men’s minds off the concerns of their neighbours. -I want no spying on me in Knight Ryder Street. To-morrow, Bates, you’ll -seek this merchant and engage the house—and ye’re to acquire the -tenancy of it in your own name. Ye understand? My name is not to be -mentioned. To avoid questions you’ll pay him six months’ rent at once.”</p> - -<p>Bates bowed. “Perfectly, your grace.”</p> - -<p>His grace leaned back in his great chair, and considered his servant -through half-closed, slyly smiling eyes.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have guessed, of course, the purpose for which I am acquiring -this house.”</p> - -<p>“I should never presume to guess any purpose of your grace’s.”</p> - -<p>“By which you mean that my purpose baffles you. That is an admission of -dullness. You recall the little comedy we played a month ago for the -benefit of Miss Farquharson?”</p> - -<p>“I have occasion to. My bones are still sore from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> cudgelling I -got. It was a very realistic piece of acting, on the part of your -grace’s cursed French grooms.”</p> - -<p>“The lady didn’t think so. At least, it did not convince her. We must -do better this time.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your grace.” There was the least dubiety in the rascal’s tone.</p> - -<p>“We’ll introduce a more serious note into the comedy. We’ll carry the -lady off. That is the purpose for which I require this house.”</p> - -<p>“Carry her off?” said Bates, his face grown suddenly very serious.</p> - -<p>“That is what I require of you, my good Bates.”</p> - -<p>“Of me?” Bates gasped. His face lengthened, and his wolfish mouth fell -open. “Of me, your grace?” He made it plain that the prospect scared -him.</p> - -<p>“To be sure. What’s to gape at?”</p> - -<p>“But, your grace. This ... this is ... very serious.”</p> - -<p>“Bah!” said his grace.</p> - -<p>“It ... it’s a hanging matter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, damn your silliness. A hanging matter! When I’m behind you?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what makes it so. They’ll never venture to hang your grace. But -they’ll need a scapegoat, if there’s trouble, and they’ll hang your -instruments to pacify the rabble’s clamour for justice.”</p> - -<p>“Are ye quite mad?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not only sane, your grace; I’m shrewd. And if I may presume to -advise your grace....”</p> - -<p>“That would, indeed, be a presumption, you impudent rogue!” The Duke’s -voice rose sharply, a heavy frown rumpled his brow. “You forget -yourself, I think.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your grace’s pardon.” But he went on, none the less. “Your -grace, perhaps, is not aware of the extent of the panic in the -City over this pestilence. The cry everywhere is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> that it is a -visitation provoked by the sins of the Court. That’s what the canting -Nonconformist preachers have put about. And if this thing that your -grace contemplates....”</p> - -<p>“My God!” thundered Buckingham. “But it seems you presume to advise me -in spite of all.”</p> - -<p>Bates fell silent; but there was obstinacy in every line of him as he -stood there facing his master now. More calmly Buckingham continued:</p> - -<p>“Listen, Bates. If we are ill served on the one hand by the pestilence, -we are very well served on the other. To carry Miss Farquharson off -while she is playing at the theatre would be to have a hue-and-cry set -up at once that might lead to discovery and unpleasant consequences. -But the Lord Mayor has ordered the closing of all theatres on Saturday, -and it is on Saturday after the theatre, therefore, that this thing -must be done, when Miss Farquharson will no longer be missed and her -disappearance give rise to no excitement—particularly at a time when -this very fear of the plague is giving people enough to think about.”</p> - -<p>“And afterwards, your grace?”</p> - -<p>“Afterwards?”</p> - -<p>“When the lady makes complaint.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham smiled in his knowledge of the world. “Do ladies ever make -complaints of this kind—afterwards? Besides, who will believe her -tale that she went to this house of mine against her will? She is an -actress, remember; not a princess. And I still command some measure of -authority in this country.”</p> - -<p>But Bates solemnly shook his head. “I doubt if your grace commands -enough to save my neck should there be trouble, and trouble there will -be. Be sure of that, your grace. There’s too many malcontents abroad, -spying the opportunity to make it.”</p> - -<p>“But who’s to accuse you?” cried the Duke impatiently. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The lady herself, if I carry her off for you. Besides, has not your -grace said that the house is to be taken in my name? If more were -wanted, that would supply it. I am your grace’s very dutiful servant, -and God knows I’m not overscrupulous on the score of my service. But -... not this, your grace. I durstn’t.”</p> - -<p>Amazement and scorn were blent on Buckingham’s countenance. He wanted -to explode in anger and he wanted to laugh at the same time at the -absurdity of finding an obstacle in Bates. His fingers drummed the -table what time he reflected. Then he determined to cut the game short -by playing trumps.</p> - -<p>“How long have you been in my service, Bates?”</p> - -<p>“Five years this month, your grace.”</p> - -<p>“And you are tired of it, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Your grace knows that I am not. I have served you faithfully in all -things....”</p> - -<p>“But you think the time has come when you may pick and choose the -things in which you will serve me still. Bates, I think you have been -in my service too long.”</p> - -<p>“Your grace!”</p> - -<p>“I may be mistaken. But I shall require proof before believing it. -Fortunately for you, it lies within your power to afford me that proof. -I advise you to do so.”</p> - -<p>He looked at Bates coldly, and Bates looked back at him in dread. The -little rascal fidgeted with his neckcloth, and his lean knuckly hand -for a moment caressed his throat. The gesture almost suggested that his -thoughts were on the rope which he might be putting about that scraggy -neck of his.</p> - -<p>“Your grace,” he cried on a note of appeal, “there is no service I -will not perform to prove my devotion. Command me to do anything, your -grace—anything. But not ... not this.”</p> - -<p>“I am touched, Bates, by your protestations.” His grace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> was coldly -supercilious. “Unfortunately, this is the only service I desire of you -at the moment.”</p> - -<p>Bates was reduced to despair.</p> - -<p>“I can’t, your grace! I can’t!” he cried. “It is a hanging matter, as -your grace well knows.”</p> - -<p>“For me, Bates, at law—at strict law—I believe it might be,” said the -Duke indifferently.</p> - -<p>“And since your grace is too high for hanging, it’s me that would have -to be your deputy.”</p> - -<p>“How you repeat yourself! A tiresome habit. And you but confirm me in -my opinions. Yet there might be a hundred pounds or so for you as a -douceur....”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t money, your grace. I wouldn’t do it for a thousand.”</p> - -<p>“Then there is no more to be said.” Inwardly Buckingham was very angry. -Outwardly he remained icily cold. “You have leave to go, Bates, and I -shall not further require your services. If you will apply to Mr. Grove -he will pay you what moneys may be due to you.”</p> - -<p>A wave of the white jewelled hand dismissed the crestfallen little -scoundrel. A moment Bates wavered, hesitating, swayed by his reluctance -to accept dismissal. But not even that reluctance could conquer his -dread of the consequences, a dread based upon conviction that they -could not fail to overtake him. Had it been anything less than a -hanging matter he might have risked it. But this was too much. So, -realizing that further pleadings or protestations would be wasted upon -the cold arrogance of the Duke, he bowed in silence, and in silence -removed himself.</p> - -<p>If he withdrew in discomfiture, at least he left discomfiture behind -him. The Duke’s trump card had failed to win him the game, and he knew -not where to find another agent for the enterprise which now obsessed -him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Etheredge, coming later that day to visit him, found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> his grace -still in a bedgown, pacing the handsome library, restless as a caged -beast.</p> - -<p>Mr. Etheredge, who well knew the attraction that held the Duke fast -in Town, and who had, himself, just completed his preparations for -departure, came to make the last of several recent attempts to recall -his friend to his senses, and persuade him to leave London for -healthier surroundings.</p> - -<p>Buckingham laughed at him without mirth.</p> - -<p>“You alarm yourself without occasion, George. This pestilence is born -of uncleanliness and confines itself to the unclean. Look into the -cases that are reported. The outbreaks are all in mean houses in mean -streets. The plague practises a nice discrimination, and does not -venture to intrude upon persons of quality.”</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless, I take my precautions,” said Mr. Etheredge, producing -a handkerchief from which a strong perfume of camphor and vinegar -diffused itself through the room. “And I am one of those who believe -that flight is the best physic. Besides, what is there to do here? The -Court is gone; the Town is hot and reeking as an anteroom of hell. In -Heaven’s name let us seek a breath of clean, cool, country air.”</p> - -<p>“Pish! Ye’re bucolic. Like Dryden ye’ve a pastoral mind. Well, well, be -off to your sheep. We shall not miss you here.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Etheredge sat down and studied his friend, pursing his lips.</p> - -<p>“And all this for a prude who has no notion of being kind! Let me -perish, Bucks, but I don’t know you!”</p> - -<p>The Duke fetched a sigh. “Sometimes I think I don’t know myself. Gad, -George, I believe I am going mad!” He strode away to the window.</p> - -<p>“Comfort yourself with the reflection that you won’t have far to go,” -said the unsympathetic Mr. Etheredge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> “How a man of your years and -experience can take the risks and the trouble over a pursuit that....”</p> - -<p>The Duke swung round to interrupt him sharply.</p> - -<p>“Pursuit! That is the cursed word. A pursuit that maddens because it -never overtakes.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bad line, that—for you,” said Mr. Etheredge. “But in love, -remember, ‘they fly that wound, and they pursue that die.’”</p> - -<p>But Buckingham raved on without heeding the gibe, his voice suddenly -thick with passion. “I have the hunter’s instinct, I suppose. The prey -that eludes me is the prey that at all costs must be reduced into -possession. Can’t you understand?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank God! I happen to retain my sanity. Come into the country, -man, and recover yours. It’s waiting for you there amid the buttercups.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” Buckingham turned from him again with an ill-humoured shrug.</p> - -<p>“Is that your answer?”</p> - -<p>“It is. Don’t let me detain you.”</p> - -<p>Etheredge got up, and went to set a hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“If you stay, and at such a time, you must have some definite purpose -in your mind. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“What was in my mind before you came to trouble it, George. To end the -matter where I should have begun it.” And he adapted three lines of -Suckling’s:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>“If of herself she will not love,</div> -<div>Myself shall make her,</div> -<div>The devil take her!”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Etheredge shrugged in despair and disgust.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re not only mad, Bucks,” said he. “Ye’re coarse. I warned you once -of the dangers of this thing. I’ve no mind to repeat myself. But you’ll -give me leave to marvel that you can take satisfaction in....” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Marvel all you please,” the other interrupted him with a touch of -anger. “Perhaps, indeed, I am a matter for marvel. I am a man racked, -consumed, burnt up by my feelings for this woman who has scorned and -spurned and made a mock of me. If I could believe in her virtue, I -would go my ways, bending to her stubborn will. But virtue in an -actress! It is as likely as snow in hell. She indulges a cruel and -perverse zest to torture a man whom she sees perishing of love for -her.” He paused a moment, to pursue with even greater fierceness, his -face livid with the working of the emotion that possessed him—that -curious and fearful merging of love and hatred that is so often born -of baffled passion. “I could tear the jade limb from limb with these -two hands, and take joy in it. I could so. Or with the same joy I could -give my body to the rack for her sweet sake! To such an abject state -have her wiles reduced me.”</p> - -<p>He swung away, and went to fling himself petulantly into a chair, -taking his blond head in his fine jewelled hands.</p> - -<p>After that explosion Mr. Etheredge decided that there was nothing to -be done with such a man but abandon him to his fate. He said so with -engaging candour and took his leave.</p> - -<p>His grace made no attempt to detain him, and for some time after his -departure sat there alone in that sombre book-lined room, a fool -enshrined in wisdom and learning. Gloomily he brooded the matter, more -than ever exasperated by the defection of Bates, and the consideration -that he was left thereby without a minister to assist him in the -execution of his wishes.</p> - -<p>He was disturbed at last by the appearance of a footman, who brought -the announcement that a Colonel Holles was demanding insistently to see -his grace.</p> - -<p>Irritated, Buckingham was about to pronounce dismissal.</p> - -<p>“Say that....” He checked. He remembered the letter received three days -ago, and its urgent appeal. That awoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> an idea, and set his grace -speculating. “Wait!” He moistened his lips and his eyes narrowed in -thought. Slowly they lighted from their gloom. Abruptly he rose. “Bring -him in,” he said.</p> - -<p>Holles came, erect and soldierly of figure, still tolerably dressed, -but very haggard now of countenance at the end of that weary day spent -between Wapping and the Guildhall with the sense that he was being -hunted.</p> - -<p>“Your grace will forgive, I trust, my importunities,” he excused -himself, faltering a little. “But the truth is that my need, which was -very urgent when I wrote, has since grown desperate.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham considered him thoughtfully from under his bent brows -without directly replying. He dismissed the waiting footman, and -offered his visitor a chair. Holles sat down wearily.</p> - -<p>His grace remained standing, his thumbs hooked into the girdle of his -bedgown.</p> - -<p>“I received your letter,” he said in his slow, pleasant voice. “From my -silence you may have supposed that you had passed from my mind. That is -not so. But you realize, I think, that you are not an easy man to help.”</p> - -<p>“Less than ever now,” said Holles grimly.</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” There was a sudden unmistakable quickening of the Duke’s -glance, almost as if he welcomed the news.</p> - -<p>Holles told him without preamble.</p> - -<p>“And so your grace perceives,” he ended, “that I am now not only in -danger of starving, but of hanging.”</p> - -<p>His grace had not moved throughout the rendering of that account. Now -at last he stirred. He turned from his visitor, and sauntered slowly -away in thought.</p> - -<p>“But what an imprudence,” he said at last, “for a man in your -position to have had relations, however slight, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> these wretched -fifth-monarchy dogs! It is to put a halter about your neck.”</p> - -<p>“Yet there was no wrong in those relations. Tucker was an old -brother-in-arms. Your grace has been a soldier and knows what that -means. It is true that he tempted me with proposals. I admit it, since -that can no longer hurt him. But those proposals I incontinently -refused.”</p> - -<p>His grace smiled a little. “Do you imagine that the Justices will -believe you when you come to tell them that?”</p> - -<p>“Seeing that my name is Randal Holles, and that a vindictive government -would be glad of any pretext to stretch the neck of my father’s son, I -do not. That is why I describe my state as desperate. I am a man moving -in the shadow of the gallows.”</p> - -<p>“Sh! Sh!” the Duke reproved him gently. “You must not express yourself -in such terms, Colonel. Your very tone savours of disloyalty. And you -are unreasonable. If you were really loyal, there was a clear duty -which you would not have neglected. When first this proposal was made -to you, whatever your friendship for Tucker, you should have gone -straight to the Justices and laid information of this plot.”</p> - -<p>“Your grace advises something that in my own case you would not have -performed. But even had I acted so, how should I have compelled belief? -I knew no details of this plot. I was not in a position to prove -anything. It would have been my bare word against Tucker’s, and my name -alone would have discredited me. My action might have been regarded as -an impudent attempt to earn the favour of the powers in being. It might -even, in some tortuous legal manner, have been construed against me. -Therefore I held my peace.”</p> - -<p>“Your assurance is enough for me,” said his grace amiably. “And God -knows I perceive your difficulty, and how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> you have been brought into -your present danger. Our first care must be to deliver you from this. -You must do at last what should have been done long since. You must go -before the Justices, and frankly state the case as you have stated it -to me.”</p> - -<p>“But your grace yourself has just said that they will not believe me.”</p> - -<p>His grace paused in his pacing, and smiled a little slyly.</p> - -<p>“They will not believe your unsupported word. But if some person of -eminence and authority were to answer for your good faith, they would -hardly dare to doubt; the matter would be at an end, and there would be -no further question of any impeachment.”</p> - -<p>Holles stared, suddenly hopeful, and yet not daring to yield entirely -to his hope.</p> - -<p>“Your grace does not mean that you ... that you would do this for me?”</p> - -<p>His grace’s smile grew broader, kindlier. “But, of course, my friend. -If I am to employ you, as I hope I shall, so much would be a necessary -preliminary.”</p> - -<p>“Your grace!” Holles bounded to his feet. “How to thank you?”</p> - -<p>His grace waved him back again to his chair. “I will show you -presently, my friend. There are certain conditions I must impose. There -is a certain task I shall require of you.”</p> - -<p>“Your grace should know that you have but to name it.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” The Duke paused, and again considered him intently. “You said in -your letter that you were ready for <i>any</i> work, for <i>any</i> service.”</p> - -<p>“I said so. Yes. I say so again.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” Again that soft, relieved exclamation. Then the Duke paced away -to the book-lined wall and back again before continuing. “My friend, -your despair comes opportunely to my own. We are desperate both, though -in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> different ways, and it lies within the power of each to serve the -other.”</p> - -<p>“If I could believe that!”</p> - -<p>“You may. The rest depends upon yourself.” He paused a moment, -then on a half-humorous note proceeded: “I do not know how much of -squeamishness, of what men call honesty, your travels and misfortune -may have left you.”</p> - -<p>“None that your grace need consider,” said Holles, with some -self-derision.</p> - -<p>“That is ... very well. Yet, you may find the task distasteful.”</p> - -<p>“I doubt it. God knows I’m not fastidious nowadays. But if I do, I will -tell you so.”</p> - -<p>“Just so.” The Duke nodded, and then—perhaps because of the hesitation -that still beset him to make to Holles the proposal that he had in -mind—his manner suddenly hardened. It was almost that of the great -gentleman speaking to his lackey. “That is why I warn you. For should -you wish to tell me so, you will please to tell me without any -unnecessary roaring, without the airs of a Bobadil or a Pistol, or any -other of your fire-eating, down-at-heel fraternity. You have but to say -‘No,’ and spare me the vapourings of outraged virtue.”</p> - -<p>Holles stared at the man in silence for a moment, utterly dumbfounded -by his tone. Then he laughed a little.</p> - -<p>“It would surprise me to discover that I’ve any virtue left to outrage.”</p> - -<p>“All the better,” snapped the Duke. He drew up a chair, and sat down, -facing Holles. He leaned forward. “In your time, no doubt, you will -have played many parts, Colonel Holles?”</p> - -<p>“Aye—a mort of parts.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever played ... Sir Pandarus of Troy?”</p> - -<p>The Duke keenly watched his visitor’s face for some sign<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> of -understanding. But the Colonel’s classical education had been neglected.</p> - -<p>“I’ve never heard of him. What manner of part may that be?”</p> - -<p>His grace did not directly answer. He took another way to his ends.</p> - -<p>“Have you ever heard of Sylvia Farquharson?”</p> - -<p>Surprised anew, it was a moment before the Colonel answered him.</p> - -<p>“Sylvia Farquharson?” he echoed, musing. “I’ve heard the name. Oh! I -have it. That was the lady in the sedan-chair your grace rescued yonder -in Paul’s Yard on the day we met. Aye, aye. I heard her named at the -time. A baggage of a play actress from the Duke’s House, I think. But -what has she to do with us?”</p> - -<p>“Something I think—unless the stars are wrong. And the stars are never -wrong. They stand immutable and true in a false and fickle world. It -is written in them—as I have already told you—that we were to meet -again, you and I, and be jointly concerned in a fateful matter with one -other. That other, my friend, is this same Sylvia Farquharson.”</p> - -<p>He rose, casting off all reserve at last, and his pleasant voice was -thickened by the stress of his emotions.</p> - -<p>“You behold in me a man exerting vast power for good and ill. There are -in life few things, however great, that I desire without being able -to command them. Sylvia Farquharson is one of these few things. With -affectations of prudery this wanton keeps me on the rack. That is where -I require your help.”</p> - -<p>He paused. The Colonel stared at him round-eyed. A faint colour stirred -in his haggard cheeks. At last he spoke, in a voice that was cold and -level.</p> - -<p>“Your grace has hardly said enough.”</p> - -<p>“Dullard! What more is to be said? Don’t you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>understand that I mean to -make an end of this situation?—to conquer the prudish airs with which -this wanton jade repels me?”</p> - -<p>“Faith! I think I understand that well enough.” Holles laughed a -little. “What I don’t understand is my part in this—a doxy business of -this kind. Will not your grace be plain?”</p> - -<p>“Plain? Why, man, I want her carried off for me.”</p> - -<p>They sat conning each other in silence now, the Colonel’s face utterly -blank, so that the Duke looked in vain for some sign of how he might -be taking this proposal. At last his lips curled in a rather scornful -smile, and his voice drawled with a mildly humorous inflection.</p> - -<p>“But in such a matter your grace’s own vast experience should surely -serve you better than could I.”</p> - -<p>In his eagerness, the Duke took him literally, never heeding the -sarcasm.</p> - -<p>“My experience will be there to guide you.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Holles.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you more precisely how I need you—where you can serve me.”</p> - -<p>And Buckingham proceeded to inform him of the well-equipped house in -Knight Ryder Street, which he now desired Holles to take in his own -name. Having taken it, he was to make the necessary arrangements to -carry the girl thither on the evening of Saturday next, after the last -performance at the Duke’s House.</p> - -<p>“Taking what men you need,” the Duke concluded, “it should be easy -to waylay and capture her chair as it is being borne home. We will -consider that more closely if the service is one that you are disposed -to accept.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel’s face was flushed. He felt his gorge rising. At last his -anger mastered him, and he heaved himself up to confront the handsome -profligate who dared in cold blood to make him this proposal. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My God!” he growled. “Are you led by your vices like a blind man by -his dog?”</p> - -<p>The Duke stepped back before the sudden menace of that tone and mien. -At once he wrapt himself in a mantle of arrogance.</p> - -<p>“I warned you, sir, that I will suffer no heroics; that I will have no -man play Bobadil to me. You asked service of me. I have shown you how I -can employ you.”</p> - -<p>“Service?” echoed Holles, his voice almost choked with anger. “Is this -service for a gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not. But a man standing in the shadow of the gallows should -not be over-fastidious.”</p> - -<p>The flush perished in the Colonel’s face; the haunting fear returned -to his eyes. The Duke, seeing him thus suddenly stricken by that grim -reminder, was moved to sudden laughter.</p> - -<p>“It seems you have to realize, Colonel Holles, that there is no music -without frets. You resent that I should ask a trifling service of you -when in return I am offering to make your fortune. For that is what I -am offering. You come as opportunely to my need as to your own. Serve -me as I require, and I pledge you my word that I shall not neglect you.”</p> - -<p>“But this ... this....” faltered Holles, protesting. “It is a task for -bullies, for jackals.”</p> - -<p>The Duke shrugged. “Damme! Why trouble to define it?” Then he changed -his tone again. “The choice is yours. Fortune makes the offer: gold on -the one hand; hemp on the other. I do not press either upon you.”</p> - -<p>Holles was torn between fear and honour. In imagination he felt already -the rope about his neck; he beheld that wasted life of his finding -a fitting consummation on Tyburn at the hands of Derrick. Thus fear -impelled him to accept. But the old early notions that had inspired -his ambition and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> made him strive to keep his honour clean rose -up to hold him back. His tortured thoughts evoked an image of Nancy -Sylvester, as he had last seen her set in the frame of her casement, -and he conceived the shame and horror in that face could she behold him -engaged upon so loathly an enterprise—he who had gone forth so proudly -to conquer the world for her. Many a time in the past had that image -delivered him from the evil to which he was tempted.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go my ways, I think,” he said heavily, and half turned as if to -depart.</p> - -<p>“You know whither it leads?” came the Duke’s warning voice.</p> - -<p>“I care not an apple-paring.”</p> - -<p>“As you please.”</p> - -<p>In silence Holles bowed, and made his way to the door with dragging -feet, hope’s last bubble pricked.</p> - -<p>And then the Duke’s voice arrested him again.</p> - -<p>“Holles, you are a fool.”</p> - -<p>“I have long known it. I was a fool when I saved your life, and you pay -me as a fool should be paid.”</p> - -<p>“You pay yourself. And of your own choice you do so in fool’s coin.”</p> - -<p>Seeing him standing arrested there, still hesitating, the Duke -approached him. His grace’s need, as you know, was very urgent. It -was no overstatement that Holles’s coming had been opportune. Unless -he could make of Holles the tool that he required so sorely, where -should he find another? It was because of this he decided to use yet -some persuasion to conquer a frame of mind that was obviously still -balancing. He set a friendly hand upon the Colonel’s shoulder. And -Holles, shrinking almost under that touch, could not guess that this -Duke, who sought to make a tool of him, was himself the blind tool of -Destiny hewing a way to her inscrutable ends. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> - -<p>And whilst the Duke now talked persuasively, tempting him with promises -on the one hand and intimidating him with a picture of what must -otherwise happen on the other, the Colonel’s own tormented mind was -reconsidering.</p> - -<p>Were his hands really so clean, his life so blameless, his honour so -untarnished, that he must boggle at this vileness, and boggle at it -to the extent of allowing them to stretch his neck and disembowel him -sooner than perform it? And what was this vileness when all was said? -A baggage of the theatre, a trull of an actress, had played upon the -Duke that she might make the greater profit out of him in the end. The -Duke, wearied of her tricks and wiles, desired to cut the game short. -Thus the Duke represented the situation. And what cause had Holles to -assume that it was other than a true representation? The girl was an -actress and therefore, it followed, wanton. The puritanical contempt of -the playhouse and its denizens—heritage of his Commonwealth days—left -him no doubt upon that score. If she were a lady of quality, a woman -of virtue, the thing would be different. Then, indeed, to be a party -to such an act were a wickedness unthinkable, a thing sooner than -which he would, indeed, suffer death. But where was the vileness here, -since the object itself was vile? Against what, then, really, did this -thing offend? Against himself; against his soldier’s dignity. The act -required of him was one proper to a hired bully. It was ignoble. But -was hanging less ignoble? Was he to let them put a rope about his -neck and the brand of the gallows on his name out of tenderness for a -baggage of the theatre whom he did not even know?</p> - -<p>Buckingham was right. He was a fool. All his life he had been a fool, -scrupulous in trifles, negligent in the greater things. And now upon -the most trifling scruple of all he would fitly sacrifice his life.</p> - -<p>Abruptly he swung round and squarely faced the Duke.</p> - -<p>“Your grace,” he said hoarsely, “I am your man.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE SEDAN-CHAIR</span></h2> - -<p>His Grace behaved generously, and at the same time with a prudence -which reveals the alert and calculating mind of this gifted man, who -might have been great had he been less of a voluptuary.</p> - -<p>He attended with Holles before the Justices early on the morrow, -announcing himself able to confirm out of his own knowledge the truth -of the account which the Colonel gave of his relations with the -attainted Tucker. To that his grace added the assertion that he was -ready—if more were needed—to stand surety for the loyalty of this -suspected man whom he now pronounced his friend. More was not needed. -The sycophantic court bent the knee before this great gentleman who -enjoyed the close friendship of his King, and even professed regret -that certain reckless and malicious statements should have deceived it -into troubling the peace of Colonel Holles, and putting His Grace of -Buckingham to the present inconvenience. The Colonel’s antecedents, -which, without Buckingham’s protection, might have been the gravest -source of trouble, were not so much as touched upon.</p> - -<p>There was in all this nothing in the least unreasonable. Had the -offence of which Colonel Holles was suspected been anything less than -treason, it is not to be supposed that the Duke would have been able to -carry matters with quite so high a hand. But it was utterly unthinkable -that His Grace of Buckingham, whose loyalty stood so high, whose whole -life bore witness to his deep attachment to the House of Stuart, and -who was notoriously one of His Majesty’s closest and most intimate -companions, should offer to stand surety<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> for a man against whom the -merest suspicion of disloyalty would be justified.</p> - -<p>Thus at the outset was Holles delivered from his worst peril. Next he -was informed that, since service of any distinction in England was -almost out of the question for his father’s son, Buckingham would -supply him with letters to several high-placed friends of his own -in France, where a capable soldier well recommended need never lack -employment. If Colonel Holles made the most of the opportunity thus -afforded him, his future should be assured and his days of adversity at -an end. This Holles clearly perceived for himself, and the reflection -served to stifle any lingering qualms of conscience over the unworthy -nature of the immediate service to which he was committed and to assure -him that he would, indeed, have been a fool had he permitted any -mawkish sentimentality to deprive him of this the greatest opportunity -of all his life.</p> - -<p>In this resolve to send Holles out of England the moment the service -required of him should be accomplished, Buckingham again reveals his -astuteness. Further, he reveals it in the fact that to assist the -Colonel he placed at his disposal four of the French lackeys in his -pay. It was his intention to repatriate them, packing them off to -France together with Holles, as soon as the thing were done.</p> - -<p>Thus, in the event of any trouble afterwards with the law, he would -have removed the only possible witnesses. The unsupported word of Miss -Farquharson—even in the extreme, and in his grace’s view unlikely, -event of her not accepting the situation—would be the only thing -against him; and in that case he did not think that he need gravely -apprehend the accusations of an actress, which he would have no great -difficulty in answering.</p> - -<p>From attendance before the Justices, Colonel Holles repaired straight -to Fenchurch Street to conclude <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>arrangements with the owner of the -house in Knight Ryder Street. Of this he now acquired the tenancy in -his own name for the term of one year. The merchant did not trouble to -conceal the fact that he regarded Colonel Holles as crazy to desire -to take up his residence in an infected city from which all who were -able were making haste to remove themselves. Had the Colonel needed a -reminder of it, he had it in the fact that he was constrained to go on -foot, not only because hackney-coaches were now rare, but because the -use of them was considered highly imprudent, since so many had been -used by infected persons. Doors smeared with the red cross and guarded -by watchmen were becoming commonplaces, and the comparatively few -people met in the streets who still sought to maintain the normal tenor -and business of their lives moved with the listlessness of despondency -or else with the watchfulness of hunted creatures. The pungent smell of -electuaries, and particularly of camphor, was wafted to the Colonel’s -nostrils from the person of almost every man he met.</p> - -<p>He may have thought again that—as he had already admirably expressed -it—Buckingham was led by his passion like a blind man by his dog, to -come thrusting himself at such a time into the City, and he may have -taken satisfaction in the thought that he, himself, so soon as this -business should be accomplished, was to shake the poisonous dust of -London from his feet.</p> - -<p>Matters concluded with the merchant, the Colonel went to take -possession of the house, and he installed there two of the four French -lackeys the Duke had lent him for myrmidons.</p> - -<p>After that there was little to do but wait until Saturday, since, for -reasons which the Duke had given him, the attempt should not be made -before. That evening, however, and the next, the Colonel repaired -to Lincoln’s Inn to watch from a safe distance Miss Farquharson’s -departure from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> theatre, and so inform himself precisely of her -habits in the matter. On both occasions she came forth at the same -time—a few minutes after seven, and entered her waiting sedan-chair, -in which she was borne away.</p> - -<p>On Friday evening Holles went again, at six o’clock, and he had been -waiting half an hour before the chair that was to convey her home made -its appearance. It was the same chair as before and borne by the same -men.</p> - -<p>Holles lounged forward to engage them in talk. Of set purpose and -despite the warm weather, he had donned a well-worn leather jerkin -to cover and conceal his fairly presentable coat. He had removed -the feather from his hat, and all minor ornaments, replacing his -embroidered baldric by one of plain leather. A pair of old boots -completed the studied shabbiness of his appearance, and gave him the -air of a down-at-heel ruffler, ready to make a friend of any man.</p> - -<p>He slouched towards the chairmen, pulling at a clay pipe, a man with -time on his hands. And they, sitting on the shafts of the chair—one on -each side, so as to balance each other—were nothing loath to have the -tedium of their waiting beguiled by the thrasonical garrulousness his -appearance led them to expect.</p> - -<p>He did not disappoint them. He talked of the pestilence and of the war, -and of the favouritism practised at Court, which bestowed commands -upon all manner of incompetent fops and kept a hardened and stout -old soldier like himself cooling his heels in London’s plague-ridden -streets. In this last respect he made them find him ridiculous, so that -they rallied and covertly mocked him and hugely enjoyed themselves at -his expense, to all of which it appeared to them that his monstrous -ruffler’s vanity made him blind. Finally he invited them to come and -drink with him, and they were nothing reluctant to permit him thus to -add physical to the mental entertainment he had already afforded them. -In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> their spirit of raillery, and to involve this foolish fellow in -the utmost expense, they would have conducted him to The Grange. But -the foolish fellow had more reasons than one for preferring an obscure -little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row, and it was thither that -he now conducted his newly made friends and guests.</p> - -<p>When at last they parted, the chairmen compelled to it by the necessity -to be back at their post by seven o’clock, it was with voluble -protestations of friendship on the part of Holles. He must come and see -them soon again, he vowed. They were fellows after his own heart, he -assured them. Eagerly they returned the compliment, and, as they made -their way back to the theatre, they laughed not a little over the empty -vanity of that silly pigeon, and their own wit and cleverness in having -fooled him to the top of his ridiculous bent.</p> - -<p>It might have given their hilarity pause could they have seen the -grimly cunning smile that curled the lips of that same silly pigeon as -he trudged away from the scene of their blithe encounter.</p> - -<p>On the following evening—which was that of Saturday—you behold -him there again, at about the same hour, joyously hailed by Miss -Farquharson’s chairmen in a manner impudently blending greeting with -derision.</p> - -<p>“Good-evening, Sir John,” cried one, and, “Good-evening, my lord,” the -other.</p> - -<p>The Colonel, whose swaggering carriage was suggestive of a mild -intoxication, planted his feet wide, and regarded the twain owlishly.</p> - -<p>“I am not Sir John, and I am not my lord,” he reproved them, whereupon -they laughed. “Though, mark you,” he added, more ponderously, “mark -you, I might be both if I had my dues. There’s many a Whitehall pimp is -my lord with less claim to the dignity than I have. Aye, a deal less.”</p> - -<p>“Any fool can see that to look at you,” said Jake. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Aye—any fool,” said Nathaniel, sardonic and ambiguous.</p> - -<p>The Colonel evidently chose the meaning that was flattering to himself.</p> - -<p>“You’re good fellows,” he commended them. “Very good fellows.” And -abruptly he added: “What should you say, now, to a cup of sack?”</p> - -<p>Their eyes gleamed. Had it been ale they would have assented gladly -enough. But sack! That was a nobleman’s drink that did not often come -their lowly way. They looked at each other.</p> - -<p>“Eh, Jake?” questioned one.</p> - -<p>“A skew o’ bouze’ll never hurt, Nat,” said the other.</p> - -<p>“That it won’t,” Nat agreed. “And there’s time to spare this evening. -Her ladyship’ll be packing a while.”</p> - -<p>They took the Colonel between them, and with arms linked the three set -a course for the little alehouse at the corner of Portugal Row. The -Colonel was more garrulous than ever, and very confidential. He had met -a friend, he insisted upon informing them—an old brother-in-arms who -had come upon fortunate days, from whom he had succeeded in borrowing -a good round sum. Extending his confidence, he told them that probably -it would be many days before he would be perfectly sober again. To this -he added renewed assurances that he found them both very good fellows, -lively companions these plaguy days, when the Town was as dull as a -nunnery, and he swore that he would not be separated from them without -a struggle.</p> - -<p>Into the alehouse they rolled, to be skilfully piloted by the Colonel -into a quiet corner well away from the windows and the light. He called -noisily, tipsily, for the landlady, banging the table with the hilt of -his sword. And when she made her appearance, he silenced her protests -by his order.</p> - -<p>“Three pints of Canary stiffly laced with brandy.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<p>As she departed, he pulled up a three-legged stool, and sat down facing -the chairmen, who were licking their chops in anticipatory delight.</p> - -<p>“’S norrevery day we meet a brother-in-arms whose norronly fortunate, -but willing ... share ’sfortune. The wine, madam! And of your best.”</p> - -<p>“Well said, old dog of war!” Nat approved him, whereupon the twain -abandoned themselves to uproarious laughter.</p> - -<p>The wine was brought, and the facetious pair swilled it greedily, -whereafter they praised it, with rolling of eyes and resounding -lip-smackings; they even subdued their raillery of the provider of this -nectar. When he proposed a second pint, they actually grew solemn; and -when after that he called for a third, they were almost prepared to -treat him with respect.</p> - -<p>There was a vacuousness in the eyes with which he pondered them, -swaying never so slightly on his three-legged stool.</p> - -<p>“Why ... you stare at me like tha’?” he challenged them.</p> - -<p>They looked up from the replenished but as yet untasted measures. His -manner became suddenly stern. “P’raps you think I haven’t ... money ... -pay for all this swill?”</p> - -<p>An awful dread assailed them both. He seemed to read it in their -glances.</p> - -<p>“Why, you rogues, d’ye dare ... doubt ... gen’l’man? D’ye think -gen’l’man calls for wine, and can’t pay? Here’s to put your lousy minds -at rest.”</p> - -<p>Violently he pulled a hand from his pocket, and violently he flung it -forward under their noses, opening it as he did so. Gold leapt from it, -a half-dozen pieces that rolled and rang upon greasy table and greasier -floor.</p> - -<p>In a flash, instinctively, the pair dived after them, and grovelled -there on hands and knees about the table’s legs, hunting the scattered -coins. When at length they came up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> again, each obsequiously placed two -pieces before the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Your honour should be more careful handling gold,” said Jake.</p> - -<p>“Ye might ha’ lost a piece or two,” added Nat.</p> - -<p>“In some companies I might,” said the Colonel, looking very wise. “But -I know hones’ fellows; I know how to choose my friends. Trust a cap’n -o’ fortune for that.” He picked up the coins with clumsy, blundering -fingers. “I thank you,” he said, and restored them to his pocket.</p> - -<p>Jake winked at Nat, and Nat hid his face in his tankard lest the grin -which he could not suppress should be perceived by the Colonel.</p> - -<p>The pair were spending a very pleasant and profitable evening with this -stray and thirsty rodomont.</p> - -<p>They drank noisily. And noisily and repeatedly Jake smacked his lips -thereafter, frowning a little as he savoured the draught.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it’s as good as the last,” he complained.</p> - -<p>The Colonel picked up his own tankard with solicitude and took a pull -at it.</p> - -<p>“I have drunk better,” he boasted. “But ’sgood enough, and just the -same as last. Just the same.”</p> - -<p>“May be my fancy,” said Jake, at which his companion nodded.</p> - -<p>Then the Colonel fell to talking volubly, boastfully.</p> - -<p>The landlady, who began to mislike their looks, drew near. The Colonel -beckoned her nearer still, and thrust a piece of gold into her hand.</p> - -<p>“Let that pay the reckoning,” said he, very magnificent.</p> - -<p>She gaped at such prodigality, dropped him a curtsy, and withdrew again -at once, reflecting that appearances can be very deceptive.</p> - -<p>The Colonel resumed his talk. Whether from the soporific<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> dreariness of -this or from the potency of the libations, Jake’s eyelids were growing -so heavy that he appeared to have a difficulty in keeping them from -closing, whilst Nat was hardly in better case. Presently, surrendering -to the luxurious torpor that pervaded him, Jake folded his arms upon -the table, and laid his sleepy head upon them.</p> - -<p>At this, his fellow took alarm, and leaned across in an attempt to -rouse him.</p> - -<p>“Hi! Jake! We gotter carry ... ladyship home.”</p> - -<p>“Dammer ladyship,” grunted Jake in the very act of falling asleep.</p> - -<p>With dazed eyes Nat looked helplessly at the Colonel and shaped his -lips to utterance by a visible effort.</p> - -<p>“Too much ... drink,” he said thickly. “Not used ... wine.”</p> - -<p>He made a feeble attempt to rise, failed, and then suddenly resigned -himself. Like Jake, who was already snoring, he made on the table a -pillow of his arms, and lowered his head to it.</p> - -<p>In a moment both the chairmen were soundly asleep.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles softly pushed back his stool, and rose. A moment he -stood considering whether he should recover the two or three gold -pieces which he was perfectly aware the rogues had filched from him. -In the end he concluded that this would be an unnecessary additional -cruelty.</p> - -<p>He lurched out of the corner, and the hostess hearing him move came -forward. He took her by the arm with one hand, whilst with the other, -to her amazement, he pressed a second gold piece into her palm. He -closed one eye solemnly, and pointed to the sleeping twain.</p> - -<p>“Very good fellows ... friends o’ mine,” he informed her. “Very drunk. -Not used ... wine. Lerrem sleep in peace.”</p> - -<p>She smirked, clutching that second precious piece. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>“Indeed, your -honour, they may sleep and welcome. Ye’ve paid for their lodgings.”</p> - -<p>Holles considered her critically. “Goo’ woman. Ye’re a goo’ woman.” -He considered her further. “Handsome woman! Lerrem sleep in peace. -Gobbless you.”</p> - -<p>She thought a kiss was coming. But he disappointed her. He loosed -her arm, reeled away a little, swung round, and lurched out of the -place and off down the street. Having gone some little way, he halted -unsteadily and looked back. He was not observed. Having assured himself -of this, he resumed his way, and it is noteworthy that he no longer -staggered. His step was now brisk and certain. He flung something from -him as he went, and there was a faint tinkle of shivering glass. It was -the phial that had contained the powerful narcotic which he had added -to his guests’ wine whilst they were grovelling for the money he had -spilled.</p> - -<p>“Animals!” he said contemptuously, and upon that dismissed them from -his mind.</p> - -<p>The hour of seven was striking from St. Clement’s Danes as he passed -the back door of the playhouse and the untended chair that waited there -for Miss Farquharson. Farther down the narrow street a couple of men -were lounging who at a little distance might have been mistaken for -the very chairmen he had left slumbering in the alehouse. Their plain -liveries at least were very similar, and they were covered with broad -round hats identical with those of Miss Farquharson’s bearers, worn at -an angle that left their faces scarcely visible.</p> - -<p>Sauntering casually, Colonel Holles came up with them. The street -thereabouts was practically untenanted.</p> - -<p>“Is all well?” he asked them.</p> - -<p>“The people have quitted the theatre some ten minutes since,” one of -them answered him in indifferent English.</p> - -<p>“To your places, then. You know your tale if there are any questions.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<p>They nodded, and lounged along, eventually to lean against the theatre -wall in the neighbourhood of the chair, obviously its bearers. The tale -they were to tell at need was that Jake had been taken ill; it was -feared that he was seized with the plague. Nat, who was remaining with -him, had begged these two to take their places with the chair.</p> - -<p>Holles took cover in a doorway, whence he could watch the scene of -action, and there disposed himself to wait. The vigil proved a long -one. As Jake had remarked to his companion, Miss Farquharson was likely -to be late in leaving. On this the final evening at the Duke’s Theatre -she would have packing to do, and there would perhaps be protracted -farewells among the players. Of the latter several had already -emerged from that little doorway and had departed on foot. Still Miss -Farquharson did not come, and already the evening shadows began to -deepen in the street.</p> - -<p>If Colonel Holles was exercised by a certain impatience on the one -hand, on the other he was comforted by the reflection that there was -gain to his enterprise in delay. The thing he had to do would be better -accomplished in the dusk; best, indeed, in the dark. So he waited, and -Buckingham’s two French lackeys, disguised as chairmen, waited also. -They had the advantage of knowing Miss Farquharson by sight, having -twice seen her at close quarters, once on the occasion of her visit to -Wallingford House and again on the day of her mock-rescue in Paul’s -Yard.</p> - -<p>At last, at a little after half-past eight, when already objects -were become indistinctly visible at a little distance, she made her -appearance in the doorway. She came accompanied by Mr. Betterton, -and was followed by the theatre doorkeeper. She paused to deliver to -the latter certain instructions in the matter of her packages, then -Mr. Betterton escorted her gallantly to her chair. The chairmen were -already at their places to which they had sprung <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>immediately upon her -coming forth. One, standing behind the chair, by raising its hinged -roof made of this a screen for himself. The other, by the foreshafts -endeavoured to find cover beside the body of the chair itself.</p> - -<p>Gathering her hooded cloak about her, she stepped into the sedan. -Betterton bowed low over her hand in valediction. As he stood back, -the chairman in front closed the apron, whilst the one behind lowered -the roof. Then, taking their places between the shafts, they raised -the chair and began to move away with it. From within Miss Farquharson -waved a delicate hand to Mr. Betterton, who stood bowing, bareheaded.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">THE ABDUCTION</span></h2> - -<p>The chair swung past the grotesque wooden structure of Temple Bar and -along Fleet Street in the deepening dusk of that summer evening, and -this being the normal way it should have taken there was so far nothing -to alarm its occupant. But as its bearers were about to turn to the -right, to plunge into the narrow alley leading down to Salisbury Court, -a man suddenly emerged from that black gulf to check their progress. -The man was Holles, who had gained the place ahead of them.</p> - -<p>“Back!” he called to them, as he advanced. “You cannot pass. There is -a riot down there about a plague-stricken house which has been broken -open, and the pestilence is being scattered to the four winds. You -cannot go this way.”</p> - -<p>The bearers halted. “What way, then?” the foremost inquired.</p> - -<p>“Whither would you go?” the man asked him.</p> - -<p>“To Salisbury Court.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that is my way. You must go round by the Fleet Ditch, as I must. -Come, follow me.” And he went ahead briskly down Fleet Street.</p> - -<p>The chair resumed its way in the altered direction. Miss Farquharson -had leaned forward when it halted to hear what was said. She had -observed no closed house in the alley upon coming that way some hours -ago in daylight. But she saw no reason to doubt the warning on that -account. Infected houses were, after all, growing common enough by now -in London streets, and she was relieved that the closing of the theatre -was to permit her own withdrawal into the country, away from that -pestilential atmosphere. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> - -<p>She sat back again with a little sigh of weariness, and in silence -suffered herself to be borne along.</p> - -<p>But when they came to the Fleet Ditch, instead of turning to the right -her bearers kept straight on, following ever in the wake of that tall -cloaked man who had offered to conduct them. They were halfway over -the bridge before Miss Farquharson became aware of what was happening. -She leaned forward and called to them that they were mistaking the -way. They took no more heed of her than if they had been stone-deaf, -and trudged stolidly onward. She cried out to them more loudly and -insistently. Still they took no notice. They were across the bridge, -and swinging away now to the right towards the river. Miss Farquharson -came to the conclusion that there must be some way back of which she -was not aware, and that some good reason inspired their guide. So, for -all that she still accounted it strange that the chairmen should have -been so deaf to her commands, she allowed them now to proceed without -further interference. But when far from finding any way to recross -the ditch, the chair suddenly turned to the left in the direction of -Baynard’s Castle, her bewilderment suddenly redoubled.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” she called to them. “You are going the wrong way. Set down the -chair at once. Set down, I say!”</p> - -<p>They heeded her as little as before. Not only did they press steadily -onward, but they even quickened their pace, stumbling over the rough -cobbles of the street in the darkness that pervaded it. Alarm awoke in -her.</p> - -<p>“Nathaniel,” she called shrilly, leaning forward, and vainly seeking to -grasp the shoulder just beyond her reach. “Nathaniel!”</p> - -<p>Her alarm increased. Was this really Nathaniel or was it some one else? -There was something sinisterly purposeful in the stolid manner in which -the fellow plodded on unheeding. The tall man ahead who led them, -little more than a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> dark outline now, had slackened his step, so that -the chair was rapidly overtaking him.</p> - -<p>She attempted to rise, to force up the roof of the chair, to thrust -open the apron in front of her. But neither yielded to her exertions. -And in the end she realized that both had been fastened. That made an -end of any doubt with which she may still have been deluding herself. -She yielded to terror and her screams for help awoke the silent echoes -of the street. The tall man halted, turned, rapped out an oath, and -authoritatively commanded the men to set down. But even as he issued -the order the flare of a link suddenly made its appearance at the -corner of Paul’s Chains, and in the ring of yellow light it cast they -could discern the black outlines of three or four moving figures. Light -and figures paused a moment there, checked by the girl’s cries. Then -abruptly they flung forward at clattering speed.</p> - -<p>“On! On!” Holles bade the chairmen curtly, and himself went forward -again, the chair now following with Miss Farquharson steadily shrieking -for help and beating frenziedly upon roof and apron.</p> - -<p>She, too, had seen those Heaven-sent rescuers rushing swiftly to meet -them, and she may have caught in the torchlight the livid gleam of -swords drawn for her deliverance.</p> - -<p>They were a party of three gentlemen lighted by a link-boy, on their -homeward way. They were young and adventurous, as it chanced, and very -ready to bare their blades in defence of a lady in distress.</p> - -<p>But it happened that this was a contingency for which Holles was -fully prepared, one, indeed, which he could not have left out of his -calculations.</p> - -<p>The foremost of those hastening gallants was suddenly upon him, his -point at the level of the Colonel’s breast, and bawling dramatically:</p> - -<p>“Stand, villain!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Stand yourself, fool,” Holles answered him in tones of impatient -scorn, making no shift to draw in self-defence. “Back—all of you—on -your lives! We are conveying this poor lady home. She has the plague.”</p> - -<p>That checked their swift advance. It even flung them back a little, -treading on one another’s toes in their sudden intimidation. Brave -enough against ordinary men and ordinary lethal weapons, they were -stricken with instant panic before the horrible, impalpable foe whose -presence was thus announced to them.</p> - -<p>Miss Farquharson, who had overheard the Colonel’s warning and perceived -its paralyzing effect upon those rescuers whom she had been regarding -as Heaven-sent, leaned forward, in frenzied fear that the trap was -about to close upon her.</p> - -<p>“He lies! He lies!” she shrieked in her terror. “It is false! I have -not the plague! I have not the plague! I swear it! Do not heed him, -sirs! Do not heed him! Deliver me from these villains. Oh, of your -charity, sirs ... in God’s name ... do not abandon me, or I am a lost -woman else!”</p> - -<p>They stood at gaze, moved by her piteous cries, yet hesitating what to -believe. Holles addressed them, speaking sadly:</p> - -<p>“She is distraught, poor soul. Demented. I am her husband, sirs, and -she fancies me an enemy. I am told it is a common enough state in -those upon whom this terrible disease has fastened.” It was a truth of -which all London was aware by now that the onslaught of the plague was -commonly attended by derangement of the mind and odd delusions. “And -for your governance, sirs, I should tell you that I greatly fear I am, -myself, already infected. I beg you, then, not to detain me, but to -stand aside so that we may regain our home before my strength is spent.”</p> - -<p>Behind him Miss Farquharson continued to scream her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> furious denials -and her piteous entreaties that they should deliver her.</p> - -<p>If they still doubted, yet they dared not put their doubts to the test. -Moreover, her very accents by now in their frenzy seemed to confirm -this man’s assertion that she was mad. A moment yet those rescuers -hung there, hesitating. Then suddenly one of them surrendered to his -mounting fear and horror.</p> - -<p>“Away! Away!” he cried, and, swinging round, dashed off down the -street. His panic communicated itself instantly to his fellows, and -they went clattering after him, the link-boy bringing up the rear, his -streaming torch held high.</p> - -<p>Aghast, spent by her effort, Miss Farquharson sank back with a moan, -feeling herself exhausted and abandoned. But when one of the chairmen, -in obedience to an order from the Colonel, pulled the apron open, she -at once leapt up and out, and would have gone speeding thence but that -the other bearer caught her about her slender body, and held her firmly -whilst his fellow wound now about her head a long scarf which Holles -had tossed him for the purpose. That done, they made fast her hands -behind her with a handkerchief, thrust her back into the chair, and -shut her in.</p> - -<p>She sat now helpless, half-choked by the scarf, which not only served -to muffle her cries, but also blindfolded her, so that she no longer -knew whither she was being conveyed. All that she knew was that the -chair was moving.</p> - -<p>On it went, then away to the left, and up the steep gradient of Paul’s -Chains, and lastly to the right into Knight Ryder Street. Before a -substantial house on the north side of this, between Paul’s Chains and -Sermon Lane, the chair came to a final standstill and was set down. The -roof was raised and the apron pulled open, and hands seized upon her to -draw her forth. She hung back, a dead weight, in a last futile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> attempt -at resistance. Then she felt herself bodily lifted in strong arms, and -swung to a man’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>Thus Holles bore her into the house, wherein the chair, the poles -having been removed, was also presently bestowed. The Colonel turned -to the right of the roomy hall in which two silent figures stood -at attention—Buckingham’s other two French lackeys—and entered -a moderate-sized square chamber, sombrely furnished and sombrely -wainscoted from bare floor to whitened ceiling. In the middle of the -room a table with massive corkscrew legs was laid for supper, and on -its polished surface gleamed crystal and silver in the light from -the great candle-branch that occupied its middle. The long window -overlooking the street was close-shuttered, the shutters barred. Under -this stood a daybed of cane and carved oak, furnished with velvet -cushions of a dull wine colour. To this daybed Holles conveyed his -burden. Having set her down, he stooped to remove the handkerchief that -bound her wrists.</p> - -<p>It was a compassionate act, for he knew that the pinioning must be -causing pain by now to her arms. Under the broad brim of his hat, his -face, moist from his exertions, gleamed white, his lips were tightly -compressed. Hitherto intent upon the accomplishment of the business as -he had planned it, he had given little thought to its ugly nature. Now -suddenly as he bent over this figure, at once so graceful, so delicate -and frail, as a faint sweet perfume that she used assailed his nostrils -conveying to his senses a suggestion of her daintiness and femininity, -disgust of the thing he did overwhelmed him, like physical nausea.</p> - -<p>He turned away, to close the door, tossing aside his hat and cloak, and -mopping his brow as he went, for the sweat was running down him like -basting on a capon. Whilst he was crossing the room she struggled to -her feet, and her hands being now at liberty she tugged and tore at -the scarf<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> until she loosed it so that it slipped down from her face -and hung in folds about her neck and shoulders above the line of her -low-cut, modish bodice.</p> - -<p>Erect there, breathing hard, her eyes flaming, she flung her words -angrily at the tall loose-limbed figure of her captor.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” she said, “you will let me depart at once, or you shall pay -dearly for this villainy.”</p> - -<p>He closed the door and turned again, to face her. He attempted to -smother in a smile the hangdog expression of his countenance.</p> - -<p>“Unless you suffer me to depart at once, you shall....”</p> - -<p>There she paused. Abruptly she broke off, to lean forward a little, -staring at him, her parted lips and dilating eyes bearing witness to an -amazement so overwhelming that it overrode both her anger and her fear. -Hoarse and tense came her voice at last:</p> - -<p>“Who are you? What ... what is your name?”</p> - -<p>He stared in his turn, checking in the very act of mopping his brow, -wondering what it was she saw in him to be moving her so oddly. Where -she stood, her face was more than half in shadow, whilst the light of -that cluster of candles on the table was beating fully upon his own. He -was still considering how he should answer her, what name assume, when -she startled him by sparing his invention further trouble in the matter.</p> - -<p>“You are Randal Holles!” she cried on a wild, strained note.</p> - -<p>He advanced a step in a sort of consternation, breathless, some sudden -ghastly emotion tearing at his heart, eyeing her wildly, his jaw -fallen, his whole face livid as a dead man’s.</p> - -<p>“Randal Holles!” she repeated in that curiously tortured voice. “You! -You of all men—and to do this thing!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>Where there had been only wild amazement in her eyes, he beheld now a -growing horror, until mercifully she covered her face with her hands.</p> - -<p>For a moment he copied her action. He, too, acting spasmodically, -covered his face. The years rolled back; the room with its table laid -for that infamous supper melted away to be replaced in his vision by a -cherry orchard in bloom, and in that orchard a girl on a swing, teasing -yet adorable, singing a song that brought him, young and clean and -honourable, hastening to her side. He saw himself a lad of twenty going -out into the world with a lady’s glove in his hat—a glove that to this -day he cherished—bent upon knight-errantry for that sweet lady’s sake, -to conquer the world, no less, that he might cast it in her lap. And he -saw her—this Sylvia Farquharson of the Duke’s Theatre—as she had been -in those long-dead days when her name was Nancy Sylvester.</p> - -<p>The years had wrought in her appearance a change that utterly disguised -her. Where in this resplendently beautiful woman could he discover the -little child he had loved so desperately? How could he have dreamt of -his little Nancy Sylvester transformed into the magnificent Sylvia -Farquharson, whose name he had heard used as a byword for gallantry, -lavishness, and prodigality, whose fame was as widespread and -questionably lustrous as that of Moll Davies or Eleanor Gwynn?</p> - -<p>He reeled back until his shoulders came to rest against the closed -door, and stared and stared in dazed amazement, his soul revolted by -the horror of the situation in which they found themselves.</p> - -<p>“God!” he groaned aloud. “My Nan! My little Nan!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PARLEY</span></h2> - -<p>At any other time and in any other place this meeting must have filled -him with horror of a different kind. His soul might have been swept -by pain and anger to find Nancy Sylvester, whom his imagination had -placed high and inaccessible as the very stars, whose memory had acted -as a beacon to him, casting a pure white light to guide him through the -quagmire of many a vile temptation, reduced to this state of—as he -judged it—evil splendour.</p> - -<p>Just now, however, the consciousness of his own infamous position -blotted out all other thought.</p> - -<p>He staggered forward, and fell on his knees before her.</p> - -<p>“Nan! Nan!” he cried in a strangled voice, “I did not know. I did not -dream....”</p> - -<p>It was enough to confirm the very worst of the fears that were -assailing her, to afford her that explanation of his presence -against which she had been desperately struggling in defiance of the -overwhelming evidences.</p> - -<p>She stood before him, a woman of little more than average height and of -an almost sapling grace, yet invested with something proud and regal -and aloof that did not desert her even now in this terrible situation -at once of peril and of cruellest disillusion.</p> - -<p>She was dressed, as it chanced, entirely in white, and all white she -stood before him save where the folds of the blue scarf with which -she had been muffled still hung about her neck and bosom. No whiter -than her oval face was her gown of shimmering ivory satin. About her -long-shaped eyes, that could by turns be provocative, mocking, and -caressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> in their glances, dark stains of suffering were growing -manifest, whilst in their blue-green depths there was nothing but stark -horror.</p> - -<p>She put a delicate, tapering hand to her brow, brushing thence the -modish tendrils of her chestnut hair, and twice she attempted to speak -before words would come from her stiff lips.</p> - -<p>“You did not know!” Pain rendered harsh and rasping the voice whose -natural music had seduced whole multitudes, and the sound of it was a -sword of sharpness to that kneeling, distracted man. “It is, then, as I -thought. You have done this thing at the hiring of another. You are so -fallen that you play the hired bully. And you are Randal Holles!”</p> - -<p>A groan, a wild gesture of despair were the outward signs of his -torment. On his knees he dragged himself nearer, to her very feet.</p> - -<p>“Nan, Nan, don’t judge until you have heard, until....”</p> - -<p>But she interrupted him. His very abjectness was in itself an eloquent -admission of the worst.</p> - -<p>“Heard? Have you not told me all? You did not know. You did not know -that it was I whom you were carrying off. Do you think I cannot guess -who is the master-villain that employs you for his jackal? And you did -not know it was I—that it was one who loved you once, when you were -clean and honest....”</p> - -<p>“Nan! Nan! O God!”</p> - -<p>“But I never loved you as I loathe you now for the foul thing you -are become, you that were to conquer the world for me. You did not -know that it was I whom you were paid to carry off! And you are so -shameless, so lost to honour, that you dare to urge that ignorance as -your excuse. Well, you know it now, and I hope you are punished in the -knowledge. I hope that, if any lingering sense of shame abides in you, -it will scorch your miserable soul to ashes. Get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> up, man,” she bade -him, regally contemptuous, splendidly tragic. “Shall grovelling there -mend any of your vileness?”</p> - -<p>He came instantly to his feet. Yet it was not, as she supposed, in -obedience to her command, so much as out of a sudden awakening to the -need for instant action. All the agony that was threatening to burst -his soul must be repressed, all that he had to say in expression and -perhaps relieving of that agony, must wait.</p> - -<p>“What I have done, I can undo,” he said, and, commanding himself under -the stress of that urgent necessity, he assumed a sudden firmness. -“Shall we stand talking here instead of acting, when every moment of -delay increases your danger? Come! As I carried you hither, in defiance -of all, so will I carry you hence again at once while yet there is -time.”</p> - -<p>She recoiled before the hand that he flung out as if to seize her and -compel her. There was a sudden fury of anger in her eyes, a fury of -scorn on her lips.</p> - -<p>“You will carry me hence! You! I am to trust myself to you!”</p> - -<p>He never winced under the lash of her contempt, so intent was he upon -that one urgent thing.</p> - -<p>“Will you stay, then, and trust yourself to Buckingham?” he flung -fiercely back at her. “Come, I say,” he commanded, oddly masterful in -his overwhelming concern for her.</p> - -<p>“With you? Oh, not that! Never with you! Never!”</p> - -<p>He beat his hands together in his frenzy of impatience.</p> - -<p>“Will you not realize that there is no time to lose? That if you stay -here you are lost? Go alone, if you will. Return home at once. But -since you must go afoot, and you may presently be pursued, suffer me at -least to follow after you, to do what I can to make you safe. Trust me -in this ... for your own sake trust me.... In God’s name!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Trust you?” she echoed, and almost she seemed to laugh. “You? After -this?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, after this. Because of this. I may be as vile as you are deeming -me; not a doubt I am. But I never could have been vile to you. It may -not excuse me to protest that I did not know it was against you that I -was acting. But it should make you believe that I am ready to defend -you now—now that I know. You must believe me! Can you doubt me in such -a matter? Unless I meant honestly by you, why should I be urging you to -depart? Come!”</p> - -<p>This time he caught her by the wrist, and maintained his hold against -her faint attempt to liberate herself. He attempted to draw her after -him across the room. A moment she hung back, resisting still.</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake!” he implored her madly. “At any moment Buckingham may -arrive!”</p> - -<p>This time she yielded to a spur that earlier her passion had made her -disregard. Between such evils there could be no choice. She looked into -his livid, gleaming face, distorted by his anguish and anxiety.</p> - -<p>“I ... I can trust you in this? If I trust you ... you will bear me -safely home? You swear it?”</p> - -<p>“As God’s my witness!” he sobbed in his impatience.</p> - -<p>There was an end to her resistance now. More: she displayed a sudden -urgency that matched his own.</p> - -<p>“Quick! Quick, then!” she panted.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” He drew a deep breath of thankfulness, snatched up hat and cloak -from the chair where he tossed them, and drew her across the room by -the wrist, of which he still retained his grip.</p> - -<p>And then, just as they reached the door, it was thrust open from -without, and the tall, graceful figure of the Duke of Buckingham, his -curled fair head almost touching the lintel, stood before them, a flush -of fevered expectancy on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> his handsome face. In his right hand he held -his heavily feathered hat: his left rested on the pummel of the light -dress rapier he was wearing.</p> - -<p>The pair recoiled before him, and Holles loosed her wrist upon the -swift, instinctive apprehension that here he was like to need his hands -for other things.</p> - -<p>His grace was all in glittering satin, black and white like a magpie, -with jewels in the lace at his throat and a baldric of garter blue -across his breast.</p> - -<p>A moment he stood there at gaze, with narrowing eyes, puzzled by -something odd in their attitudes, and looking from Miss Farquharson’s -pale, startled loveliness to the stiff, grim figure of her companion. -Then he came slowly forward, leaving the door wide behind him. He bowed -low to the lady without speaking; as he came erect again it was to the -Colonel that he addressed himself.</p> - -<p>“All should be here, I think,” he said, waving a hand towards table and -sideboard.</p> - -<p>Holles half-turned to follow the gesture, and he stood a moment as if -pondering the supper equipment, glad of that moment in which to weigh -the situation. Out there, in the hall, somewhere just beyond that open -door, would be waiting, he knew, Buckingham’s four French lackeys, who -at their master’s bidding would think no more of slitting his throat -than of slicing the glazed capon on the sideboard yonder. He had been -in many a tighter corner than this in his adventurous life, but never -before had there been a woman on his hands to hamper him and at the -same time to agonize and numb his wits with anxiety. He thanked Heaven -for the prudence which had silenced his impulse to bid Buckingham stand -aside when he had first made his appearance. Had he acted upon that, -there would very likely have been an end of him by now. And once there -was an end of him, Nan would lie entirely at the Duke’s mercy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> His -life had come suddenly to matter very much. He must go very warily.</p> - -<p>The Duke’s voice, sharp with impatience, roused him:</p> - -<p>“Well, booby? Will you stand there all night considering?”</p> - -<p>Holles turned.</p> - -<p>“All is here, under your grace’s hand, I think,” he said quietly.</p> - -<p>“Then you may take yourself off.”</p> - -<p>Holles bowed submissively. He dared not look at Nan; but he caught the -sudden gasp of her breath, and without looking beheld her start, and -imagined the renewed horror and wide-eyed scorn in which she regarded -this fresh display of cowardice and vileness.</p> - -<p>He stalked to the door, the Duke’s eyes following him with odd -suspicion, puzzled ever by that something here which he perceived, but -whose significance eluded him. Holding the edge of the open door in his -hand, Holles half-turned again. He was still playing for time in which -to decide upon his course of action.</p> - -<p>“Your grace, I take it, will not require me further to-night?”</p> - -<p>His grace considered. Beyond the Duke Holles had a glimpse of Nan, -standing wide-eyed, livid as death, leaning against the table, her -right hand pressed upon her heaving breast as if to control its tumult.</p> - -<p>“No,” said his grace slowly, at last, “Yet you had best remain at hand -with François and the others.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said Holles, and turned to go. The key was, he observed, -on the outside of the door. He stooped and withdrew it from the lock. -“Your grace would perhaps prefer the key on the inside,” he said, -with an odious smirk, and, whilst his grace impatiently shrugged his -indifference, Holles made the transference. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having made it, he closed the door swiftly, and he had quietly turned -the key in the lock, withdrawn and pocketed it before his grace -recovered from his surprise at the eccentricity of his behaviour.</p> - -<p>“What’s this?” he demanded sharply, taking a step towards the Colonel, -and from Nan there came a faint cry—a sob scarcely more than to -announce the reaction caused by sudden understanding and the revival of -her hopes from the despair into which she had fallen.</p> - -<p>Holles, his shoulders to the door, showed a face that was now grim and -set. He cast from him again the hat and cloak which he had been holding.</p> - -<p>“It is, your grace, that I desire a word in private with you, safe from -the inconvenient intrusion of your lackeys.”</p> - -<p>The Duke drew himself up, very stiff and stern, not a little intrigued -as you conceive by all this; but quite master of himself. Fear, as I -think I have said, was an emotion utterly unknown to him. Had he but -been capable of the same self-mastery in other directions he might have -been the greatest man in England. He made now no outcry, put no idle -questions that must derogate from the dignity with which he felt it -incumbent to invest himself.</p> - -<p>“Proceed, sir,” he said coldly. “Let us have the explanation of this -insolence, that so we may make an end of it.”</p> - -<p>“That is soon afforded.” Holles, too, spoke quietly. “This lady, your -grace, is a friend of mine, an ... an old friend. I did not know it -until ... until I had conveyed her hither. Upon discovering it, I would -have escorted her hence again, and I was about to do so when your -grace arrived. I have now to ask you to pledge me your word of honour -that you will do nothing to prevent our peaceful departure—that you -will offer no hindrance either in your own person or in that of your -servants.”</p> - -<p>For a long moment, Buckingham stood considering him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> without moving -from the spot where he stood, midway between Holles and the girl, his -shoulder to the latter. Beyond a heightening of the colour about his -eyes and cheekbones, he gave no sign of emotion. He even smiled, though -not quite pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“But how simple,” he said, with a little laugh. “Nothing, indeed, could -be of a more engaging simplicity. And how touching is the situation, -how romantic. An old friend of yours, you say. And, of course, because -of that, the world is to stand still.” Then his voice hardened. “And -should I refuse to pledge my word, what does Colonel Holles propose?”</p> - -<p>“It will be very bad for your grace,” said Holles.</p> - -<p>“Almost, I think, you threaten me!” Buckingham betrayed a faint -amazement.</p> - -<p>“You may call it that.”</p> - -<p>The Duke’s whole manner changed. He plucked off his mask of arrogant -languor.</p> - -<p>“By God!” he ejaculated, and his voice was rasping as a file. “That is -enough of this insolence, my man. You’ll unlock that door at once, and -go your ways, or I’ll call my men to beat you to a jelly.”</p> - -<p>“It was lest your grace should be tempted to such ungentle measures -that I took the precaution to lock the door.” Holles was smooth as -velvet. “I will ask your grace to observe that it is a very stout door -and that the lock is a very sound one. You may summon your lackeys. But -before they can reach you, it is very probable that your grace will be -in hell.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham laughed, and, even as he laughed he whipped the light rapier -from its scabbard, and flung forward in a lunge across the distance -which he had measured with his very practised swordsman’s eye.</p> - -<p>It was an action swift as lightning and of a deadly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>precision, -shrewdly calculated to take the other by surprise and transfix him -before he could make a move to guard himself. But swift as it was, and -practised as was the Duke’s skill, he was opposed to one as swift and -practised, one who had too often kept his life with his hands not to -be schooled in every trick of rough-and-tumble. Holles had seen that -calculating look in the Duke’s eyes as they measured the distance -between them, and, because he had more than once before seen just such -a calculating look in the eyes of other men and knew what followed, he -had guessed the Duke’s purpose, and he had been prepared. Even as the -Duke drew and lunged in one movement, so, in one movement, too, Holles -drew and fell on guard to deflect that treacherous lightning-stroke.</p> - -<p>Nan’s sudden scream of fear and the clash of the two blades rang out at -the same moment. The Colonel’s parry followed on into the enveloping -movement of a <i>riposte</i> that whirled his point straight at the Duke’s -face on the low level to which this had been brought by the lunge. -To avoid it, Buckingham was forced to make a recovery, a retreat as -precipitate as the advance had been swift. Erect once more, his grace -fell back, his breathing quickened a little, and for a moment the two -men stood in silence, their points lowered, measuring each other with -their eyes. Then Holles spoke.</p> - -<p>“Your grace, this is a game in which the dice are heavily cogged -against you,” he said gravely. “Better take the course I first -proposed.”</p> - -<p>Buckingham uttered a sneering laugh. He had entirely mistaken the -other’s meaning.</p> - -<p>“Why, you roaring captain, you pitiful Bobadil, do you think to -affright me with swords and antics? It is against yourself the dice -are loaded. Unlock that door, and get you hence or I’ll carve you into -ribbons.”</p> - -<p>“Oho! And who’s the roaring captain now? Who the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> Bobadil? Who the very -butcher of a silk button?” cried Holles, stung to anger. He would have -added more, perhaps, but the Duke stemmed him.</p> - -<p>“Enough talk!” he snapped. “The key, you rogue, or I’ll skewer you -where you stand.”</p> - -<p>Holles grinned at him. “I little thought when I saved your life that -night at Worcester that I should be faced with the need to take it -thus.”</p> - -<p>“You think to move me with that reminder, do you?” said the Duke, and -drove at him.</p> - -<p>“Hardly. I’ll move you in another way, you lovelorn ninnyhammer,” -Holles snarled back.</p> - -<p>And then the blades ground together again, and they were engaged in -deadly earnest.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">THE BATTLE</span></h2> - -<p>I do not suppose that any two men ever engaged with greater confidence -than those. Doubt of the issue was in the mind of neither. Each -regarded the other half contemptuously, as a fool rushing upon his doom.</p> - -<p>Holles was a man of his hands, trained in the hardest school of all, -and although for some months now sword-practice had been a thing -neglected by him, yet it never occurred to him that he should find -serious opposition in a creature whose proper environment was the -Court rather than the camp. The Duke of Buckingham, whilst making no -parade of the fact, was possibly the best blade of his day in England. -He, too, after all, had known his years of adversity and adventurous -vagrancy, years in which he had devoted a deal of study to the sword, -for which he was gifted with a natural aptitude. Of great coolness in -danger, vigorous and agile of frame, he had a length of reach which -would still give him an advantage on those rare occasions where all -else was equal. He regarded the present affair merely as a tiresome -interruption to be brushed aside as speedily as possible.</p> - -<p>Therefore he attacked with vigour, and his very contempt of his -opponent made him careless. It was well for him in the first few -seconds of that combat that Holles had reflected that to kill the Duke -would be much too serious a matter in its ultimate consequences and -possibly in its immediate ones. For Buckingham’s lackey’s were at hand, -and, after disposing of their master, he must still run the gauntlet -of those fellows before he could win to freedom with Nancy. His aim, -therefore, must be to disarm or disable the Duke, and then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> holding -him at his mercy, compel from him the pledge to suffer their unmolested -departure which the Duke at present refused. Thus it happened that in -the first moments of the engagement he neglected the openings which -the Duke’s recklessness afforded him, intent instead upon reaching and -crippling the Duke’s sword-arm.</p> - -<p>Two such attempts, however, each made over the Duke’s guard on a -<i>riposte</i>, disclosed to Buckingham not only the intention, but also -something of the quality of the swordsman to whom he was opposed, -whilst the ease with which the Duke foiled those attempts caused Holles -also to correct the assumption upon which he had engaged. The next few -seconds fully revealed to each of them the rashness of underrating an -antagonist, and as their mutual respect increased they settled down now -to fight more closely and cautiously.</p> - -<p>In the background in a tall armchair to which she had sunk and in -which she now reclined bereft of strength, white with terror, her -pulses drumming, her breathing so shortened that she felt as if she -must suffocate, sat Nancy Sylvester, the only agonized witness of that -encounter of which she was herself the subject. At first the Duke’s -back was towards her, whilst, beyond him, Holles faced her, so that -she had a full view of his countenance. It was very calm and set, and -there was a fixed, unblinking intentness about the grey eyes that never -seemed to waver in their steady regard of his opponent’s. She observed -the elastic, half-crouching poise of his body, and, in the ease with -which his sword was whirled this way and that, she realized the trained -skill and vigorous suppleness of his wrist. She began to take courage. -She gathered as she watched him some sense of the calm confidence in -which he fought, a confidence which gradually communicated itself to -her and came to soothe the terror that had been numbing her wits.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a change of tactics. Buckingham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> moved swiftly -aside, away to his left; it was almost a leap; and as he moved he -lunged in the new line he now confronted, a lunge calculated to take -Holles in the flank. But Holles shifted his feet with the easy speed of -a dancer, and veered to face his opponent in this new line, ready to -meet the hard-driven point when it was delivered.</p> - -<p>As a result of that breaking of ground, she now had them both in -profile, and it was only now, when too late, that she perceived what -an opportunity she had missed to strike a blow in her own defence. The -thing might have been done, should have been done whilst the Duke was -squarely offering her his undefended back. Had she been anything, she -told herself, but the numbed, dazed, witless creature that she was, -she would have snatched a knife from the table to plant it between his -shoulder-blades.</p> - -<p>It may have been the sense of some such peril, the fighter’s -instinctive dread of an unguarded back, that had driven the Duke to -break ground as he had done. He repeated the action again, and yet -again, compelling Holles each time to circle so that he might meet the -ever-altered line of attack, until in the end the Duke had the door -behind him and both Holles and the girl in front.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the sounds of combat in that locked room—the stamp of -shifting feet and the ringing of blades—had drawn the attention of -the men in the hall outside. There came a vigorous knocking on the -door accompanied by voices. The sound was an enheartening relief -to Buckingham, who was finding his opponent much more difficult to -dispatch than he had expected. Not only this, but, fearless though he -might be, he was growing conscious that the engagement was not without -danger to himself. This rascal Holles was of an unusual strength. He -raised his voice suddenly:</p> - -<p>“À moi! François, Antoine! À moi!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Monseigneur!” wailed the voice of François, laden with alarm, from -beyond the oak.</p> - -<p>“Enfoncez la porte!” Buckingham shouted back.</p> - -<p>Came heavy blows upon the door in answer to that command; then silence -and a shifting of feet, as the grooms set their straining shoulders to -the oak. But the stout timbers withstood such easy methods. The men’s -footsteps retreated, and there followed a spell of silence, whose -meaning was quite obvious to both combatants. The grooms were gone for -implements to break down the door.</p> - -<p>That made an end of the Colonel’s hopes of rendering the Duke -defenceless, a task whose difficulty he began to perceive that he -must find almost insuperable. He settled down, therefore, to fight -with grimmer purpose. There was no choice for him now but to kill -Buckingham before the grooms won through that door, or all would be -lost, indeed. The act would no doubt be followed by his own destruction -at the hands either of Buckingham’s followers or of the law; but Nancy, -at least, would be delivered from her persecutor. Full now of that -purpose, he changed his tactics, and from a defensive which had aimed -at wearing down the Duke’s vigour, he suddenly passed to the offensive. -Disengage now followed disengage with lightning swiftness, and for some -seconds the Duke found the other’s point to be everywhere at once. -Hard-pressed, his grace was compelled to give ground. But as he fell -back he side-stepped upon reaching the door, not daring now to set his -shoulders to it lest, by thus cutting off his own retreat, he should -find himself pinned there by the irresistible blade of his opponent. It -was the first wavering of his confidence, this instinctive craving for -space behind him in which to retreat.</p> - -<p>So far Holles had fought on almost academic lines, no more, indeed, -being necessary for the purpose he had been setting himself. But now -that this purpose was changed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> and finding that mere speed and vigour -could not drive his point beyond the Duke’s iron guard, he had recourse -to more liberal methods. There was a trick—a deadly, never-failing -trick—that he had learned years ago from an Italian master, a soldier -of fortune who, like himself, had drifted into mercenary service with -the Dutch. He would essay it now.</p> - -<p>He side-stepped to the left, and lunged on a high line of tierce, his -point aimed at the throat of his opponent. The object of this was no -more than to make the Duke swing round to parry. The lunge was not -intended to go home. It was no more than a feint. Without meeting the -opposing blade as it shifted to the threatened line, Holles dropped his -point and his body at the same time, until he was supported, at fullest -stretch, by his left hand upon the ground. Upward under the Duke’s -guard he whirled his point, and the Duke, who had been carried—as -Holles had calculated that he would be—a little too far round in the -speed required, thus unduly exposing his left flank, found that point -coming straight for his heart. He was no more than in time to beat it -aside with his left hand, and even so it ripped through the sleeve of -his doublet and tore his flesh just above the elbow.</p> - -<p>But for that wound there might well have been an end of Holles. For -this trick of his was such that it must succeed or else leave him -that essays it momentarily at the mercy of his antagonist. That -moment presented itself now; but it was gone again before the Duke -had mastered the twitch occasioned him by the tearing of his arm. His -recovery and downward-driven <i>riposte</i> were swift, but too late by half -a heart-beat. Holles was no longer there to be impaled.</p> - -<p>They smiled grimly at each other as erect they stood, pausing a second -after that mutually near escape of death. Then, as a succession of -resounding blows fell upon the door, Holles drove at him again with -redoubled fury. From the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> sound of the blows it would seem that the -grooms had got an axe to work, and were bent upon hacking out the lock.</p> - -<p>Holles realized that there was no time to lose; Buckingham, that his -safety lay in playing for time, and allowing the other’s furious -attacks to spend themselves against his defence. Twice again, despite -his wound, he used his left hand, from which the blood was dripping -freely, to dash aside the other’s blade. Once he did it with impunity. -But when he repeated the action, Holles took advantage of it to -fling himself suddenly forward inside the Duke’s guard, until they -were breast to breast, and with his own left he seized the Duke’s -sword-wrist in a grip that paralyzed it. Before, however, he could -carry out his intention of shortening his sword, his own wrist was -captive in the Duke’s blood-smeared left hand. He sought to force -himself free of that grip. But the Duke maintained it with the tenacity -born of the desperate knowledge that his life depended on it, that if -he loosed his hold there would be an instant end of him.</p> - -<p>Thus now in this fierce <i>corps-à-corps</i> they writhed and swayed hither -and thither, snarling and panting and tugging, whilst the sound of the -blows upon the door announced the splintering of a panel, and Nancy, -half-swooning in her chair, followed the nightmare struggles of the two -men in wide-eyed but only half-seeing terror.</p> - -<p>They crashed across the room to the daybed under the window, and the -Duke went down upon it backwards in a sitting posture. But still he -retained his grip of the Colonel’s sword-wrist. Holles thrust his knee -into the Duke’s stomach to gain greater leverage.</p> - -<p>Now at last, with the increased strain that Holles brought to bear, -Buckingham’s fingers were beginning to slip. And then under a final -blow the door all splintered about, the lock flew open and the grooms -flowed into the room to their master’s rescue. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>Holles tore his wrist free at the same moment by a last wrench. But it -was too late. Casting the Duke’s sword hand from him, he sprang away -and round with a tearing sob to face the lackeys. For a second his -glittering point held them at bay. Then the blow of a club shivered -the blade, and they rushed in upon him. He felled one of them with a -blow of the hilt which he still retained, before a club took him across -the skull. Under that blow he reeled back against the table, his limbs -sagged, and he sank down in a heap, unconscious.</p> - -<p>As he lay there one of the grooms, standing over him, swung his club -again with the clear intention of beating out his brains. But the Duke -arrested the descending blow.</p> - -<p>“It is not necessary,” he said. He was white and breathing hard from -his exertions and there was a fevered glitter in his eyes. But these -signs apart he was master of himself.</p> - -<p>“Your arm, monseigneur!” cried François, pointing to the blood that -filled his sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Bah! A scratch! Presently.” Then he pointed to the prone limp figure -of Holles, from whose head the blood was slowly trickling. “Get a rope, -François, and truss him up.” François departed on his errand. “You -others, carry Antoine out. Then return for Bobadil. I may have a use -for him yet.”</p> - -<p>They moved to obey him, and picked up their fellow whom Holles had -felled before he, himself, went down.</p> - -<p>The Duke was not pleased with them at all. A little more and they might -have been too late. But to reproach them with it entailed an admission -which this proud, vain man was reluctant to make.</p> - -<p>They trooped out obediently, and Buckingham, still very pale, but -breathing now more composedly, turned to Nancy with a queer little -smile on lips that looked less red than usual.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">THE CONQUEROR</span></h2> - -<p>She had reached that point of endurance at which sensibility becomes -mercifully dulled. She sat there, her head resting against the tall -back of the chair, her eyes closed, a sense of physical nausea -pervading her.</p> - -<p>Yet, at the sound of the Duke’s voice gently addressing her, she opened -her long blue eyes, set now in deep stains of suffering, and looked at -this handsome satyr who stood before her in an attitude of deference -that was in itself a mockery.</p> - -<p>“Dear Sylvia,” he was saying, “I am beyond measure pained that you -should have been subjected to this ... this unseemly spectacle; I need -not protest that it was no part of my intention.”</p> - -<p>She answered him almost mechanically, yet the ironical answer she -delivered was true to her proud nature and the histrionic art which -would not be denied expression even in the extremity to which she was -reduced.</p> - -<p>“That, sir, I can well believe.”</p> - -<p>He considered her, wondering a little at that flash of spirit, from one -in her condition. If anything it but served to increase his admiration. -He sighed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my Sylvia, you shall forgive me the shifts to which my love has -driven me, and this last shift of all with that roaring fool’s heroics -and what they have led to. Endeavour not to think too harshly of me, -child. Don’t blame me altogether. Blame that <i>cos amoris</i>, that very -whetstone of love—your own incomparable loveliness and grace.”</p> - -<p>She sat now stiffly upright, dissembling her fear behind a mask of -indignant scorn that was sincere enough. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Love!” she answered him in a sudden gust of that same scorn. “You call -this violence love?”</p> - -<p>He answered her with a throbbing vehemence of sincerity, a man pleading -his own defence.</p> - -<p>“Not the violence, but that which has moved me to it, that which would -move me to tear down a world if it stood between you and me. I want -you, Sylvia, more than I have ever wanted anything in life. It is -because of the very fervency and sincerity of my passion that I have -gone so clumsily to work, that in every attempt to lay my homage and -devotion at your feet, I have but provoked your resentment. Yet, child, -I swear to you that, if it lay in my power, if I were free to make you -my Duchess, that is the place I should be offering to you now. I swear -it by everything I hold sacred.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him. There had been a humility in his bearing which, -together with that vibrant sincerity in his voice, must surely have -moved her at any other time. It moved her now, but only to a still -greater scorn.</p> - -<p>“Is anything sacred to such a man as you?” She rose by an effort, and -stood before him, swaying, slightly conscious of dizziness and of -shivers, and marvelling a little that she should be unable better to -command herself. But she commanded herself at least sufficiently to -give him his answer. “Sir, your persecution of me has rendered you -loathly and abhorrent in my sight, and nothing that you may now do can -alter that. I tell you this in the hope that some spirit of manliness, -some sense of dignity, will cry a halt to you; so that you may disabuse -your mind of any notion that you can prevail by continuing to pursue -and plague me with your hateful attentions. And now, sir, I beg you to -bid your creatures fetch the chair in which I was brought hither and -carry me hence again. Detain me further, and I promise you, sir, that -you shall be called to give a strict account of this night’s work.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - -<p>The whiplash of her contempt, which she was at pains to render manifest -in every word she uttered, the loathing that scorched him from her -lovely eyes, served but to stir a dull resentment and to arouse the -beast in him. The change was instantly apparent in the sneer that -flickered over his white face, in the ugly little soft laugh with which -he greeted her demand.</p> - -<p>“Let you depart so soon? How can you think it, Sylvia? To have been at -such infinite pains to cage you, you lovely bird, merely to let you fly -away again!”</p> - -<p>“Either you let me depart at once, sir,” she told him almost fiercely, -her weakness conquered now in her own indignation, “or the Town shall -ring with your infamy. You have practised abduction, sir, and you know -the penalty. I shall know how to make you pay it. I swear that you -shall hang, though you be Duke of twenty Buckinghams. You do not want -for enemies, who will be glad enough to help me, and I am not entirely -without friends, your grace.”</p> - -<p>He shrugged. “Enemies!” he sneered, “Friends!” He waved a disdainful -hand toward the unconscious Holles. “There lies one of your friends, if -what the rascal said was true. The others will not be more difficult to -dispose of.”</p> - -<p>“Your grooms will not suffice to save you from the others.”</p> - -<p>That stung him. The blood leapt to his face at that covert taunt that -it was only the intervention of his men had saved him now.</p> - -<p>But he made answer with a deadly smoothness. “So much even will not be -needed. Come, child, be sensible. See precisely where you stand.”</p> - -<p>“I see it clearly enough,” she answered.</p> - -<p>“I will take leave to doubt it. You do as little justice to my wits, it -seems, as ever you have done to my poor person. Who is to charge me, -and with what? You will charge me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> You will accuse me of bringing you -here by force, against your will, and here retaining you. Abduction, in -short, you say; and you remind me that it is a grave offence at law.”</p> - -<p>“A hanging matter, even for dukes,” said she.</p> - -<p>“Maybe; maybe. But first the charge must be made good. Where are your -witnesses? Until you produce them, it will be your word against mine. -And the word of an actress, however exalted, is ... in such matters -... the word of an actress.” He smiled upon her. “Then this house. It -is not mine. It is tenanted by a ruffian named Holles; it was taken -by him a few days ago in his own name. It was he who brought you here -by force. Well, well, if there must be a scapegoat, perhaps he will -do as well as another. And, anyhow, he is overdue for the gallows on -quite other crimes. He brought you here by force. So far we shall not -contradict each other. What follows? How came I here into that man’s -house? Why, to rescue you, of course, and I stayed to comfort you -in your natural distress. The facts will prove my story. My grooms -will swear to it. It will then be seen that in charging me you are a -scheming adventuress, returning evil for good, seeking to profit by my -unwary generosity. You smile? You think the reputation bestowed upon me -by a scandalmongering populace will suffice to give that tale the lie. -I am not of your opinion; and, anyway, I am prepared to take the risk. -Oh, I would take greater risks for you, my dear.”</p> - -<p>She made a little gesture of contempt. “You may be a very master of the -art of lying, as of all other evil arts. But lies shall not avail you -if you dare to detain me now.”</p> - -<p>“If I dare to detain you?” He leaned nearer to her, devouring her with -his smouldering eyes. “If I dare, child? Dare?”</p> - -<p>She shrank before him in sheer terror. Then, conquering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> herself, -stiffening in every limb, she drew herself erect. Majestically, a very -queen of tragedy, she flung out an arm in a gesture of command.</p> - -<p>“Stand back, sir! Stand back, and let me pass, let me go.”</p> - -<p>He fell back, indeed, a pace or two, but only that he might the better -contemplate her. He found her magnificent, in the poise of her graceful -body, the ivory pallor of her face, the eyes that glowed and burned and -looked the larger for the deep, dark shadows in which they were now -set. Suddenly, with an almost inarticulate cry, he sprang forward to -seize her. He would make an end of this maddening resistance, he would -melt this icy disdain until it should run like water.</p> - -<p>She slipped aside and away in panic before his furious onslaught, -oversetting the high-backed chair in which she had lately been sitting.</p> - -<p>The crash of its fall seemed to penetrate to the slumbering mind of -Holles, and disturb his unconsciousness. For he stirred a little, -uttering a faint moan.</p> - -<p>Beyond that, however, her flight accomplished nothing. Two yards away -the wainscot faced her. She would have run round the table, but, before -she could turn to do so, the Duke had seized her. She faced him, -savagely at bay, raising her hands to protect herself. But his arms -went round her arms, forcing her hands down to her sides, and crushing -her hurtfully against him, heedless, himself, in his frenzy of the hot -pain in his own lacerated shoulder in which the bleeding was redoubled -by this effort.</p> - -<p>Helpless in his arms she lay.</p> - -<p>“You coward, you beast, you vileness!” she gasped. And then he stopped -her mouth with kisses.</p> - -<p>“Call me what you will, I hold you, I have you, and not all the power -of England shall tear you from me now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Realize it, child,”—he fell -to pleading. “Realize and accept, and you will find that I have but -mastered you only so that I may become your slave.”</p> - -<p>She answered him nothing; again that dizziness, that physical sickness -was assailing her. She moaned a little, lying helpless there in that -grip of his that to her was as loathly and deadly as the coiling -embrace of some great snake of which it brought the image to her mind. -Again he was kissing her, her eyes, her mouth, her throat, about which -still hung the folds of the blue scarf that had served to muffle her. -Because this offended him and was in some sense an obstacle, a barrier, -he seized one end of it, and, tearing it roughly away, laid bare the -lovely throat and breast it had so inconveniently veiled.</p> - -<p>Over that white throat he now bent his head like some evil vampire. -But his fevered lips never reached it. In the very act of bending, he -paused, and stiffened.</p> - -<p>Behind him he could hear the footsteps of his grooms reentering the -chamber. But it was not their coming that imposed this restraint -upon him, that dilated and bulged his eyes with horror, that fetched -the ashen pallor to his cheeks, and set him suddenly trembling and -shuddering from head to foot.</p> - -<p>For a moment he was as a man paralyzed. His limbs refused their office; -they seemed turned to lead. Slowly, where he would have had them swift, -his arms relaxed their grip of that sweet body. Slowly they uncoiled -themselves, and slowly he fell back before her, crouching forward the -while, staring ever, his jaw fallen, his face the face of a man in the -last extremity of terror.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he raised his right hand to point with a shaking finger at her -throat. Hoarsely, in a cracked voice, he spoke.</p> - -<p>“The tokens! The tokens!”</p> - -<p>The three grooms, entering at that moment, checked and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> stood there -just within the threshold as if suddenly turned to stone.</p> - -<p>The awakening Holles, on the ground, raising himself a little, and -thrusting back the tumbled hair which was being matted to his brow by -blood from his cracked head, looked dazedly round and up to see the -Duke’s shaking, pointing hand, to hear the Duke’s quavering voice, this -time, saying yet again:</p> - -<p>“The tokens!”</p> - -<p>His grace fell back step by step, gasping with dread, until suddenly he -swung about to face his men.</p> - -<p>“Back,” he bade them, his voice shrill. “Back! Away! Out of this! She -is infected! My God! She has the plague! The tokens are upon her!”</p> - -<p>A moment still they stood at gaze in this horror which they fully -shared with him. They craned forward, to look at Miss Farquharson, -leaning faint and limp against the wainscot, her white neck and -shoulders thrown into dazzling relief against the dark brown of the -background, and from where they stood they could make out quite plainly -stamped upon the white loveliness of that throat the purple blotch that -was the brand and token of the pestilence.</p> - -<p>As the Duke reached them, they turned, in sudden dread of him. Might he -not, himself, already carry upon him the terrible infection? With wild -cries of terror they fled before him out of the room, and out of the -house, never heeding the commands which, as he precipitately followed, -he flung after them.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">UNDER THE RED CROSS</span></h2> - -<p>The main door slammed upon those precipitately departing men. Their -running steps clattered over the cobbles of the street, and receded -quickly out of earshot.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles and the woman he had sought so passionately long years -ago, until despair had turned him from the quest, were alone together -at last in that house, brought thither by that ironic destiny of his, -in circumstances of horror piled on horror. The very act by which at -last he had found her irrevocably lost her to him again. The very -chance that had brought them together, after all these years, flung -them at the same time farther apart than they had ever been; and this, -without taking into account the fact that she was a woman now with the -seal of death upon her. Was he not Fortune’s fool indeed?</p> - -<p>The violent slamming of that door appeared to rouse him to a further -degree of consciousness. Painfully he got to his knees, and with dazed -eyes looked round the room. Again he brushed back the tangle of hair -from his brow, and thereafter dully considered his hand which was wet -and smeared with blood. The mists that enveloped his brain, obscuring -and confusing his mental view of the events that had occurred before he -was stricken down and since consciousness had begun to return to him, -were now gradually dispersing. Understanding of where he was and how -he had come there grew clear at last. He rose to his feet, and stood -swaying a moment, looking round, dull-eyed as a drunkard.</p> - -<p>He beheld Nancy, her shoulders turned to him, contemplating herself -in an oblong Venetian mirror that adorned the wall beyond the table, -and in the mirror itself he beheld<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> the reflection of her face. It was -ashen, and there was a staring, ghastly horror in her eyes. It was -then that he began to remember and piece together the incidents of the -confused scene upon which his gaze had fallen when first his mind was -dimly rousing itself. Again he saw Buckingham, crouching and shuddering -as he backed away from Nancy, pointing to her the while with a palsied -hand, and again he heard the Duke’s quavering voice, and the dread -words it uttered.</p> - -<p>He understood. Nancy was safe from Buckingham. She had been snatched -from the Duke at the eleventh hour by a ravisher even more merciless -and infinitely more foul.</p> - -<p>This she was herself realizing as she contemplated her image in that -little mirror and beheld the brand of the pestilence on her white -breast. Although she had never before seen that betraying purple -blotch, yet she had heard it described, and she could have had no -doubt of its significance even without the terrified explanation that -Buckingham had supplied. Whether it was from horror of what she beheld, -or whether from the workings of the fell disease—which may also have -been responsible for those moments of dizziness by which she had been -earlier assailed, but which she had assigned to emotion—she found her -image contracting and expanding now before her eyes; then she felt the -room rocking about her, the ground heaving under her feet as if it had -been the unstable deck of a ship. She reeled back, and knew, without -power to help herself, that she was falling, when suddenly she felt -herself caught, and supported.</p> - -<p>She looked up, and beheld the ghastly, blood-smeared face of Randal -Holles, who had sprung instinctively to her assistance. For a long -moment she stared at him, dull-eyed, a little frown of effort drawing -her brows together. Dully then she spoke:</p> - -<p>“Do not touch me. Did you not hear? I have the plague.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Aye ... I heard,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“You will take the infection,” she warned him.</p> - -<p>“It is very likely,” said he, “but no great matter.”</p> - -<p>On that he lifted her in his arms, as he had lifted her once before -that night. Despite his shaken condition, the act cost him but little -effort, for she was very slim and light. Unresisting—for she was too -dazed and weak for any physical resistance now—she suffered him to -bear her to the daybed. There he set her down at full length, carefully -adjusting the wine-coloured cushions, so as to give ease to her head -and limbs.</p> - -<p>Then he passed round the couch to the shuttered windows, unbarred them, -and set the casement wide to let a draught of the clean, cool night air -into the stifling room. That done, he turned, and remained standing -there beside the couch, looking down upon her with eyes that were as -the eyes of some poor dumb beast in pain.</p> - -<p>The cool air revived her a little, set her pulses beating more -steadily, and cleared her mind of some of the numbness that had -been settling upon it. For a spell she lay there, panting a little, -remembering and realizing the situation and her own condition. Then she -raised her eyes to look at the ghastly, haggard face above her, and to -meet that anguished glance. For a little while she stared at him, her -own countenance expressionless.</p> - -<p>“Why do you stay?” she asked him at length in a dull voice. “Go ... go -your ways, sir, and leave me to die. It is, I think, all that remains -to do. And ... and I think that I shall die the easier without your -company.”</p> - -<p>He stepped back as if she had struck him. He made as if to answer -her; then his parted lips came together again, his chin sank until it -touched his breast. He turned, and with dragging feet walked slowly out -of the room, softly closing the door. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<p>She lay there invaded suddenly by a great fear. She strained her ears -to catch the sounds of his footsteps in the passage, until finally -the slamming of the door leading to the street announced to her that, -taking her at her word, he was gone, indeed. She sat up in alarm, -holding her breath, listening to his steps moving quickly now, almost -at a run, up the street. At last she could hear them no longer. Her -fears mounted. For all her brave talk, the thought of dying alone, -abandoned, in this empty house filled her with terror; so that it -seemed to her now that even the company of that dastard would have been -better than this horror of loneliness in the hour of death.</p> - -<p>She attempted to rise, to follow, to seek the companionship of -human beings who might yet afford her some assistance and ease her -sufferings. But her limbs refused their office. She got to her feet -merely to collapse again, exhausted. And now she flung herself prone -upon the daybed, and sobbed aloud until the searing pain in her breast -conquered even her self-pity, and stretched her writhing in agony as if -upon a rack. At last a merciful unconsciousness supervened.</p> - -<p>And meanwhile Holles was moving mechanically and instinctively at speed -up Sermon Lane in the direction of Paul’s. Why he should have chosen -to go that way sooner than another he could not have told you. The -streets were utterly deserted even at that early hour, for this was not -a time in which folk chose to roam abroad at nights, and, moreover, -the Lord Mayor’s enactments now compelled all taverns and houses of -entertainment to close at nine o’clock.</p> - -<p>Without hat or cloak, his empty scabbard dangling like a limp tail -about his legs, he sped onward, a man half-distracted, with but a vague -notion of his object and none of the direction in which its fulfilment -would be likeliest. As he was approaching Carter Lane, a lantern came -dancing like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> a will-o’-the-wisp round the corner to meet him, and -presently the dark outline of the man who carried it grew visible. This -man walked with the assistance of a staff which at closer quarters the -lantern’s rays revealed to be red in colour. With a gasp of relief, -Holles flung forward towards him.</p> - -<p>“Keep your distance, sir! Keep your distance!” a voice warned him out -of the gloom. “’Ware infection.”</p> - -<p>But Holles went recklessly on until the long red wand was raised and -pointed towards him to arrest his advance.</p> - -<p>“Are you mad, sir?” the man cried sharply. Holles could make out now -the pallid outline of his face, which the broad brim of his steeple-hat -had hitherto kept almost entirely in shadow. “I am an examiner of -infected houses.”</p> - -<p>“It is as I hoped,” panted Holles ... “that yours might be some such -office. I need a doctor, man, quickly, for one who is taken with the -plague.”</p> - -<p>The examiner’s manner became brisk at once.</p> - -<p>“Where?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Close at hand here, in Knight Ryder Street.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then, Dr. Beamish, there at the corner, is your man. Come.”</p> - -<p>And thus it happened that, from the sleep which had succeeded the swoon -that so mercifully whelmed her senses, Nancy was aroused by a sound of -steps and voices. Where she lay she faced the door of the room. And, as -through billows of mist that now rolled before her eyes, she saw the -tall figure of Colonel Holles enter followed by two strangers. One of -these was a little birdlike man of middle age; the other was young and -of a broad frame and a full countenance. Both were dressed in black, -and each carried the red wand which the law prescribed.</p> - -<p>The younger man, who was the examiner met by Holles in Sermon Lane, -came no farther than the threshold. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> holding close to his -nostrils a cloth that gave out a pungent, vinegary smell, and his jaws -worked vigorously the while, for he was chewing a stick of snake-root -as a further measure of prevention. Meanwhile, his companion, who was -that same Dr. Beamish he had recommended, approached the patient and -made a swift, practised, and silent examination.</p> - -<p>She suffered it in silence, too utterly trammelled by lethargy to give -much thought or care to what might now betide her.</p> - -<p>The physician held her wrist for a moment in his bony fingers, the -middle one upon her pulse. Next he carefully examined the blotch upon -her throat. Finally he raised first one of her arms and then the other, -whilst Holles at his bidding held the candle-branch so as to cast the -light into the armpit. A grunt escaped him upon the discovery of a -swelling in the right one.</p> - -<p>“This is unusually soon,” he said. “It is seldom before the third day -that there is such a manifestation.”</p> - -<p>With the forefinger he tested the consistency of that swelling, sending -sharp, fiery streams of pain through all her body as it seemed to her.</p> - -<p>He lowered the arm again, and straightened himself, considering her a -moment with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes.</p> - -<p>At his elbow Holles spoke in a toneless voice:</p> - -<p>“Does it ... does it mean that her case is beyond hope?”</p> - -<p>The physician looked at him.</p> - -<p>“<i>Dum vivimus, speremus</i>,” said he. “Her case need not be hopeless -any more than another’s. Much depends upon the energy with which the -disease is fought.”</p> - -<p>He saw the flash of Holles’s eyes at that, as through the Colonel’s -mind sped the vow that if it was a matter of a fight he was there to -wage it. He would fight the plague for her as fiercely as he had fought -Buckingham. Beholding his sudden transfiguration, the physician, in -charity—lest the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> should delude himself with false hopes—thought -well to add:</p> - -<p>“Much depends upon that. But more—indeed all—upon God, my friend.” He -spoke to Holles as to a husband, for that, indeed, was the relationship -in which he conceived him to stand to the afflicted lady. “If -suppuration of that swelling can be induced, recovery is possible. More -I cannot say. To induce that suppuration infinite pains and tireless -labour may be necessary.”</p> - -<p>“She may depend on that,” said Holles.</p> - -<p>The physician nodded. “Nurses,” he added slowly, “are scarce and -difficult to procure. I will do my best to find you one as soon as -possible. Until then you will have to depend entirely upon yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I am ready.”</p> - -<p>“And in any case the law does not allow you to leave this house until -you can receive a certificate of health—which cannot be until one -month after her recovery or....” He broke off, leaving the alternative -unnamed, and added hurriedly: “That is Sir John Lawrence’s wise -provision for checking the spread of the infection.”</p> - -<p>“I am aware of it and of my position,” said Holles.</p> - -<p>“So much the better, then. And now, my friend, there is no time to -lose. Speed in applying remedies is often all. She must be brought as -quickly as may be into a free and full perspiration and for that she -must be got to bed without delay. If her life is to be saved, you must -get to work at once.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me but what to do, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Not only that; I come prepared to leave you all that you will require.”</p> - -<p>He produced a bulky package from his pocket, and, beckoning Holles -to the table, there opened it, and enumerated the lesser packages it -contained and the purposes of each.</p> - -<p>“Here is a stimulating ointment with which you will rub<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> the swelling -in the armpit every two hours. Thereafter you will apply to it a -poultice of mallows, linseed, and palm oil. Here is mithridate, of -which you will administer a dose as an alexipharmic, and two hours -later you will give her a posset drink of Canary and spirits of -sulphur. The spirits of sulphur are here. Make a fire of sea-coal in -her bedroom, and heap all available blankets upon her, that she may -throw out as much as may be of the poison in perspiring.</p> - -<p>“For to-night, if you do that, you will have done all that can be done. -I shall return very early in the morning, and we will then consider -further measures.”</p> - -<p>He turned to the examiner: “You have heard, sir?”</p> - -<p>The man nodded. “I’ve already bidden the constable send a watchman. He -will be here by now and I’ll see the house closed when we go forth.”</p> - -<p>“It but remains, then,” said the doctor, “to have the lady put to bed. -Then I will take my leave of you until to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>This, however, was a service the lady was still able to perform -for herself. When Holles, disregarding the physician’s aid, had, -single-handed, carried her to the room above, she recovered -sufficiently to demand that she should be left to herself; and, despite -her obvious weakness, Dr. Beamish concurred that to permit her to have -her own way in the matter would be to make the more speed in the end.</p> - -<p>The effort of undressing, however, so exhausted her and awoke such -torturing pains that, when at last she got to bed, she lay there, -panting, reduced to a state of utter prostration.</p> - -<p>Thus Holles and the physician found her on their return. Dr. Beamish -placed upon a table at the foot of the bed all the things that Holles -would require, and, repeating his injunctions, took his leave at last. -The Colonel went with him to the door of the house. This was standing -open, and by the light of a lantern held by the watchman the examiner -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> completing the rudely wrought inscription, <i>Lord have mercy upon -us</i>, under the ominous red cross which he had daubed above.</p> - -<p>Bidding Holles a good-night and a stout courage, the physician and -the examiner departed together. The watchman, who remained to hinder -any unauthorized person from passing in or out, then closed the door. -Holles heard the key being turned on the outside, and knew himself a -prisoner in that infected house for weeks to come, unless death should -chance to set him free meanwhile.</p> - -<p>Quickly now, urged by the thought of his task, utterly disregarding -the dull aching of his bruised head, he mounted the stairs again. -A memory flashed through his mind of those three gallants whom her -cries had attracted to her rescue, and who would have delivered her -from his clutches, but that he had scared them away with the lie—as -he supposed it then—that she was infected with the plague. Had their -rescue succeeded, in what case would she be now? Would there be one at -hand to fight such a fight as that for which he was braced and ready; -to give his life at need, freely and without a pang, that he might save -her own? Out of the anguish of his soul, out of the depths into which -he was plunged, he thanked God for this fight that lay before him, for -this disposition which made good come out of evil.</p> - -<p>He found her in a state of lethargy which, whilst leaving her a full -consciousness of all that had occurred and was occurring about her, yet -robbed her of all power of speech or movement. Lying there, her head -supported by the pillows, which it had been the doctor’s last service -to adjust, her wide, fevered eyes followed every movement of the -Colonel’s as, stripped now of his doublet, he went briskly about the -business of preparation. Anon under the pain which his ministrations -caused her, she sank into unconsciousness, and thence into a raving -delirium which for days thereafter was to alternate with periods of -lethargic, exhausted slumber.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">THE CRISIS</span></h2> - -<p>For five days, which to Randal Holles were as five years of mortal -anguish, she lay suspended between this world and the next. The -lightest straw of chance would suffice to tip against her the fearful -balance of the scales, the slightest lack of care and watchfulness -might result in the snapping of the slender thread by which life was -still tethered to her exhausted, fever-wasting frame.</p> - -<p>The doctor had succeeded beyond all his hopes in his quest of a -nurse-keeper, and he brought her with him to the house in Knight -Ryder Street, on the morrow of Nancy’s taking ill—a lean, capable, -good-natured, henlike woman of forty. But for all her competency and -willingness, had this Mrs. Dallows been alone in charge of the patient, -it is long odds that Nancy would quickly have succumbed. For no hired -attendant could ever have ministered to her with the self-sacrificing, -remorseful devotion of the broken adventurer who loved her. No -hired attendant could have brought to the task the strength of will -and singleness of purpose that drove the weary, faltering flesh -relentlessly along the path of this self-imposed duty.</p> - -<p>Not for a moment did Holles suffer himself to relax his vigilance, to -pause for a breathing in that grim fight with death. Of sleeping he -never so much as thought, whilst the snatches of food and drink that -constituted his meals, forced upon him by the nurse-keeper, were taken -there at Nancy’s bedside.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Dallows remonstrated with him, urging him to take some rest in the -hours during which she was herself on duty. It was in vain. Equally -vain were the same remonstrances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> when more authoritatively urged -by Dr. Beamish. Holles left them unheeded as he did the physician’s -recommendations that he should take some of the ordinary precautions to -keep himself immune. The balsam of sulphur which the little doctor left -with him to be used as a disinfectant was never touched; the wormwood, -masterwort, and zedoary pressed upon him as prophylactics were equally -neglected.</p> - -<p>“My friend,” the doctor had said to him as early as the second day of -her illness, “if you continue thus you will end by killing yourself.”</p> - -<p>Holles had smiled as he replied: “If she lives, her life will have been -cheaply purchased at the price. If she dies, it will not signify.”</p> - -<p>The doctor, ignorant of her true identity, and persuaded ever that the -twain were husband and wife, was touched by what he conceived to be an -expression of exemplary conjugal devotion. That, however, did not turn -him from his endeavours to reason Holles out of this obstinacy.</p> - -<p>“But if she should survive and you should perish?” he asked him, -whereupon Holles had amazed him by a sudden flash of anger.</p> - -<p>“Plague me no more!”</p> - -<p>After that Dr. Beamish had left him to follow his own inclinations, -reflecting—in accordance with the popular belief, which the doctor -fully shared—that after all the man carried in himself the most potent -of all prophylactics in the fact that he was without fear of the -infection.</p> - -<p>But, although Holles neglected all the preventive measures which the -doctor had so urgently prescribed for him, he nevertheless smoked a -deal, sitting by the window of her chamber, which was kept open day -and night to the suffocating heat of that terrible July. And the -great fire constantly maintained by the doctor’s orders, this heat -notwithstanding, did much to cleanse and purify the air. These things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> -may have helped to keep him safe despite himself, procuring for him a -measure of disinfection.</p> - -<p>It was entirely as a result of that tireless vigilance of his and of -the constant poulticings which he applied, that on the fourth day the -swelling in the patient’s armpit, having been brought to a head, began -to vent the deadly poison with which her veins were laden.</p> - -<p>Beamish was as amazed as he was delighted.</p> - -<p>“Sir, sir,” he commended the Colonel on the evening of that fourth day, -“your pains are being rewarded. They have wrought a miracle already.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that she will live?” cried Holles in fearful hope.</p> - -<p>The doctor paused, moderating his satisfaction, afraid of his own -optimism.</p> - -<p>“So much I cannot promise yet. But the worst is over. With proper care -and God’s help I trust that we may save her.”</p> - -<p>“Never doubt that the care will be forthcoming. Tell me but what is to -do.”</p> - -<p>The doctor told him, and the exhausted yet unyielding Holles listened -greedily to his instructions, flung off his deadly lassitude, and -applied himself diligently to the execution of all exactly as he was -bidden.</p> - -<p>And meanwhile, as if incubated by that terrific heat, the plague was -spreading now through London at a rate that seemed to threaten the -City with the utter extermination which the preachers of doom had -presaged. It was from Beamish that Holles learnt of that sudden, -upward, devastating leap of the pestilential conflagration, of the -alarming bill of mortality, and of the fact that the number of victims -within the walls amounted in that week alone to nearly a thousand. And, -apart from what the doctor told him, there were abundant evidences -of the havoc even within the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>narrow survey possible to him from his -prison. From that first-floor window, at which he spent long hours -of day and night, he beheld Knight Ryder Street—that once busy -thoroughfare—become daily less and less frequented, whilst daily, -too, the hum of London’s activity, which might be likened to the very -heart-beat of that great city, growing feebler and ever feebler, bore -witness to its ebbing life.</p> - -<p>There in Knight Ryder Street he could see the closed houses—and -there were already three of them within the radius of his view on the -opposite side of the street—each with its red cross and an armed -watchman day and night before its padlocked door.</p> - -<p>Victuals and what else was needed from outside reached them through -the agency of their own watchman. Holles, who was still plentifully -supplied with funds from what Buckingham had furnished him for this -adventure, would lower the necessary money from the window in a basket. -By the same means the watchman would send up the purchases he made -on behalf of those within, absenting himself when necessary for the -purpose, but always leaving the door locked and taking the key with him.</p> - -<p>On the comparative and ever ominously increasing stillness of the air -came intermittently, to increase the general melancholy, the tolling of -bells, ringing out the knell of the departed, and nightly, just after -dark and again before peep of day, there came now the clang of another -bell infinitely more hideous because of the hideous ideas with which -it had become associated, and the stillness of the street would be -disturbed by a creak and rumble of wheels, a slow clatter of hooves, -and a raucous voice uttering a dreadful summons:</p> - -<p>“Bring out your dead!”</p> - -<p>Peering down, as he ever did, he could make out the ghastly outline of -the dead-cart loom into view as it came slowly rumbling by, attracted -thither by those sealed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> houses, like some carrion-bird in expectation -of its prey. Invariably it paused before Holles’s own door, arrested -by the sight of the watchman and the red cross dimly revealed by the -light of his lantern; and that raucous voice would ring out again, more -direct in its summons, sounding now like a demand, revoltingly insolent -and cynical.</p> - -<p>“Bring out your dead!”</p> - -<p>Then, at a word from the watchman, the horrible vehicle would toil -slowly on, and Holles with a shudder would fling a glance over his -shoulder at the sufferer where she lay fevered and tossing, wondering -fearfully whether duty and pitiless necessity would compel him to -answer that summons when next it came, and surrender that lovely body -to join the abominable load in that hideous cart.</p> - -<p>Thus, until the morning of the sixth day, when from daybreak until past -eight o’clock he waited in a sudden frenzy of impatience for the coming -of Beamish. When at last he arrived, Holles met him at the stair-head.</p> - -<p>The Colonel’s face was ghastly, his eyes fevered, and he was trembling -with fearful excitement.</p> - -<p>“She sleeps—quietly and peacefully,” he informed the doctor, in a -whisper, a finger to his lips.</p> - -<p>Very softly they entered the chamber now and tiptoed to the bedside, -Holles in an agony of hope taking up his position at the foot between -the carved bedposts. A glance confirmed the news with which Holles -had met the physician. Not only was she in an easy, tranquil slumber, -such as she had not known since taking to this bed, but the fever had -entirely left her. This the doctor’s practised eye judged at once, even -before he moved to take her pulse.</p> - -<p>At that touch of his hand upon her wrist, she stirred, sighed, and -opened her eyes, sanely and calmly awake at last. She looked up into -the wizened, kindly little spectacled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> face of the doctor, blankly at -first, then with a little frown of bewilderment. But he was speaking -at the moment, and the words he used helped her groping wits to piece -together the puzzle of her surroundings and condition.</p> - -<p>“The danger is overpast,” he was saying. “She will recover now, thanks -be to God and to your own tireless care of her. It is yourself gives me -more concern than she does. Leave her now to the care of Mrs. Dallows, -and do you go rest yourself, or I tell you I will not answer for your -life.” He had been looking at Holles whilst he spoke. Now he turned to -consider her again, and found her conscious glance upon him. “See! She -is awake,” he cried.</p> - -<p>“The danger is overpast?” Holles echoed, his voice thick and unnatural. -“You say the danger is overpast? I am awake, good doctor? I have not by -chance fallen asleep at my post and come to dream this thing?”</p> - -<p>“You are awake, man, and I repeat the danger is at an end. Now go and -rest.”</p> - -<p>Wondering to whom it was the doctor spoke, whose was that raucous, -weary voice that questioned him, she slowly turned her head, and beheld -a gaunt, hollow-eyed ghost of a man, whose pallid, sunken cheeks were -overgrown with a course stubble of unshaven beard, standing between the -bedposts, clutching at one of them as if for support. Meeting her gaze, -he recoiled a step and loosed his hold. Then he swung half-round, a -hand to his brow.</p> - -<p>“Naught ails me, doctor,” he mumbled, and now she knew who he was and -remembered. “I would sooner....”</p> - -<p>His voice abruptly ceased in mid-period; he reeled, steadied himself -for an instant, and then toppled slowly forward and crashed at full -length upon the floor. Instantly Mrs. Dallows, with a little outcry -of alarm, was on her knees beside him; she turned him over, raised -his head, by an effort, and pillowed it in her lap as Dr. Beamish -came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> hastening up. The same thought was in the mind of both nurse and -physician.</p> - -<p>Nancy sought painfully—for she was very weak—to raise herself, that -she might see what was taking place there on the floor, beyond the foot -of the bed.</p> - -<p>Swiftly the doctor tore open the breast of the Colonel’s doublet; but -not even so much was necessary. At once he perceived what had happened. -It was as if the assurance that she was out of danger, and so no longer -in need of his ministrations, had snapped the reins of will by which -Holles had held his lassitude in subjection. Instantly Nature had -claimed from him the dues which he had so long withheld.</p> - -<p>“He is asleep,” said Dr. Beamish; and he almost chuckled. “That is all. -Help me to lift him to that couch, Mrs. Dallows. No need to carry him -farther or to do more for him at present. Never fear, you’ll not rouse -him—not until the clock has gone round once, at least.”</p> - -<p>They laid him there, a pillow under his head, and Beamish returned to -his patient’s side. She had sunk back again, but her eyes, looking -enormous now in her wasted cheeks, were still upon the figure of Holles -where he lay inert as stone, just within the orbit of her vision.</p> - -<p>“Sleep?” she questioned the doctor, wonderingly. “Is that sleep?”</p> - -<p>Never had she—nor, indeed, have many—seen slumber fell a man as if he -had been shot.</p> - -<p>“Nothing worse, ma’am. The Colonel has never so much as closed his eyes -for a whole week. Nature compassionately has closed them for him. No -need to afflict yourself on his behalf. Sleep is all he now requires. -So give yourself peace, and beware of making demands upon the little -strength that’s left you.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him intently. “I have the plague, have I not?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Say rather that you had it, ma’am. You have it no longer. It has been -cast out of you. It has left you feeble; but that is all that ails you -at present. And you are a safe woman now. When you shall have recovered -your strength, you may go whither you will without further fear of the -infection. The plague will not touch you again. For the great mercy -thus vouchsafed you, you may render thanks to God, and, next to God, to -your husband.”</p> - -<p>She frowned, perplexed.</p> - -<p>“My husband?”</p> - -<p>“Your husband, ma’am. And a husband in a thousand—nay, in ten -thousand. I have seen many a husband lately, and I speak with -knowledge—alas! The terror of the pestilence can blot out every other -feeling. I have seen it happen time and again. But Colonel Holles is -not of those. His is a devotion that makes a hero of him; and, because -he has been fearless, he has been spared. Fortune favours the brave, -ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“But ... but he is not my husband.”</p> - -<p>“Not your husband?” said the doctor, confounded. And he repeated, -“Not your husband!” Then, with an affectation of cynicism very alien -in reality to the genial, kindly little man, “Gadso!” he ejaculated, -“perhaps that explains it. But what is he, then, who has all but given -his life for you?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, at a loss how to define their relationship. At last:</p> - -<p>“Once he was my friend,” she answered.</p> - -<p>“Once?” The physician raised his bushy brows. “And when, pray, did he -cease to be your friend—this man who stayed with you in this infected -house when he might have fled; this man who has denied himself sleep -or rest of any kind in all these days, that he might be ever at hand -against your need of him; this man who has wrestled with death<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> for -you, and rescued you at the risk of taking the pestilence a thousand -times for your sake?”</p> - -<p>“Did he do all this?” she asked.</p> - -<p>Dr. Beamish entertained her with the details of the heroism and -self-sacrifice that Holles had displayed.</p> - -<p>When the tale was done, and she lay silent and very thoughtful, the -doctor permitted himself a slyly humorous smile.</p> - -<p>“He may once have been your friend, as you say,” he concluded, smiling. -“But I cannot think that he was ever more your friend than now. God -send me such a friend in my own need!”</p> - -<p>She made no response, but continued very still and thoughtful for a -while, staring up at the carved canopy of this great strange bed, -her face a blank mask in which the little doctor sought in vain for -a clue to the riddle of the relations of those two. Had he yielded -to his inquisitiveness, he would have questioned her. But, other -considerations apart, he was restrained by thought for her condition. -Nourishment and rest were to be prescribed, and it was not for him, by -probing questions, to prove himself perhaps a disturber of the latter.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE WALLS OF PRIDE</span></h2> - -<p>That evening Dr. Beamish returned, bringing with him, as on the -occasion of his first visit, a public examiner. This official came to -assure himself formally of the doctor’s assertion that a cure had been -effected, so that he might make his report thereupon, to the end that -after the lapse of twenty-eight days—provided that in the meanwhile -there were no fresh outbreak of pestilence in either of the other -inmates—the reopening of the house should be permitted.</p> - -<p>Holles, awakening from eleven hours of uninterrupted lethargic sleep, -but still heavy with lassitude, stood dully at hand whilst the examiner -held his formal inquisition into the conditions of the patient, of Mrs. -Dallows, and of Holles himself. As the Colonel stood there, gaunt, -pale, unshaven, and dishevelled, Nancy’s eyes considered him very -gravely, whilst he himself dared to turn never so much as a single -glance in her direction.</p> - -<p>When the examiner and the doctor passed at last from the room, Holles -dragged himself wearily after them. He followed them below-stairs, and -remained there alone after they had taken their departure.</p> - -<p>For twenty-eight days he was doomed to imprisonment in this house, and -he made his dispositions. That night he slept in a back bedroom on the -ground floor. In the morning, having prepared himself breakfast in the -kitchen, a matter in which Mrs. Dallows came to his assistance, he went -to straighten out the dining-room so that it might serve him for a -lodging during the period of incarceration that lay ahead. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> - -<p>He found the room in utter darkness. It had not been entered since -the night of Nancy’s coming thither. He groped his way across to the -shutters, which he remembered to have closed by request of the examiner -after carrying Nancy from the room on that terrible night a week ago. -He pulled them open and let in a flood of daylight upon a scene each -detail of which reminded him poignantly of the happenings of that -night. There lay the chair overturned by Nancy as she retreated before -Buckingham. He imagined the circumstances in which it had fallen. There -on the polished blocks of the floor, under the table—where it had -escaped the eyes of Dr. Beamish—gleamed the blade of his own broken -sword, and yonder in a corner, whither it had rolled, the hilt which -his nerveless fingers had relinquished when he was struck down. On the -floor by the table there was a dull brown patch which he knew to have -been made by his own blood, and there were similar stains on the daybed -and on the napery of the table, which he guessed to have been made by -the blood of Buckingham.</p> - -<p>Fallen between the daybed and the window, he found the slender dress -rapier which Buckingham had used. The Duke had dropped it there when -he rose at the end of their grim struggle, and he had not paused to -recover it in his precipitate flight.</p> - -<p>For the rest, guttered candles, withered flowers, and rotting fruits -encumbered the table, and the lustre of glass and silver was dulled by -a film of dust. On the sideboard stood the array of dainty dishes that -had been prepared for that infamous intimate supper which had never -been consumed, rotting there, and loading the atmosphere of the room -with the evil odour of decay, which to Holles was like an exhalation of -the ugly memories they held for him.</p> - -<p>He flung the windows wide, and spent some time in setting the room to -rights, and ridding it of all that refuse. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thereafter he lay on the daybed smoking and thinking, and very -listless. And it was thus, in the days that followed, that most of -his hours were spent. If he did not regard himself as actually dead -already, at least he regarded himself as one whose life was ended, -one to whom death would bring a welcome relieving rest. Vaguely he -hoped—he would have prayed, but that he had long since lost the habit -of prayer—that the infection which he supposed present in this house -might claim him for her victim. Morning and evening, and ever and anon -throughout the day, he would open his doublet to finger his breast and -explore his armpits in expectancy, eager to discover upon himself the -tokens of the plague.</p> - -<p>But the irony that had ever pursued him thwarted now his desire -of death as it had thwarted his every desire concerned with life. -Living and moving in that house of pestilence, breathing its mephitic -atmosphere, he yet remained as immune as if he had been a “safe man.”</p> - -<p>For the first three days his existence was one of completest, listless -idleness. There were books in the house; but he had no desire to read. -He was content to lie there smoking and moping. Each morning Mrs. -Dallows reported to him the condition of the patient, which was one -of steady improvement, and this was confirmed by the doctor, who paid -two visits in the course of those three days. On the second of those -occasions he remained some time in talk with Holles, giving him news of -the dreadful state of things outside.</p> - -<p>Whitehall was empty now of all its courtly tenants with the single -exception of the Duke of Albemarle. Honest George Monk had elected -to remain undaunted at his post as the representative of his King, -to perform in the King’s name—and whilst His Majesty was busy at -Salisbury with the amorous pursuit of Miss Frances Stewart—all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> that -which a king himself should be at hand to perform in time of national -stress, to mitigate the tribulations of his subjects.</p> - -<p>Hopefully Holles inquired of Beamish if he knew aught of Buckingham. -Hopefully, that is, because he was expecting to hear that the Duke was -laid low by the infection.</p> - -<p>“Gone with the rest,” the doctor informed him. “He left Town for -the North a week ago, aroused to a sudden sense of his duty as Lord -Lieutenant of York by the fact that a French lackey in his household -was stricken with the plague. He’ll be safe enough in York, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“A French lackey, eh? Only a lackey!” The Colonel’s face was overspread -with disappointment. “The devil watches over his own,” he grumbled. “A -wretched lackey pays for the sins of his master. Well, well, I suppose -there is a God—somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“Have you no cause to know it, sir, and to give thanks?” Beamish -reproved him. And Holles turned away without answering, beyond a sigh -and a shrug, which but served to increase the doctor’s perplexity over -the behaviour of the members of this odd household. That all was very -far from well there was abundantly clear.</p> - -<p>Acting upon a sudden impulse, Dr. Beamish left the room, and mounted -the stairs again—for all that his time was short and his patients -many. Dismissing Mrs. Dallows upon some trivial errand to the kitchen, -he remained closeted for five minutes with Miss Sylvester. That was the -name by which he knew her, the name by which she had chosen to make -herself known to both doctor and nurse.</p> - -<p>Whether it was as a result of what he said to her in those five -minutes, or whether other influences were at work, within an hour -of the doctor’s departure, Holles was sought by Mrs. Dallows with a -message that Miss Sylvester was risen, and desired to speak with him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>The eyes of that kindly nurse, sharpened by solicitude, saw him turn -pale and tremble at the summons. His first impulse was to disregard it. -But, before making any reply, he took a turn in that wainscoted sombre -room. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he announced that he would -go. Mrs. Dallows opened the door, and held it for him to pass out, -tactfully refraining from following him.</p> - -<p>He was washed and shaven, tolerably dressed, and his long, well-combed, -golden-brown hair hung in long, smooth ringlets to the snowy collar -which Mrs. Dallows had found time to wash and iron for him. Thus he no -longer presented the wild, unkempt appearance that had been his when -last Miss Sylvester had seen him. But there was a haggard dejection -about the lines of his mouth, a haunting sadness about his eyes that -nothing could relieve.</p> - -<p>He found Miss Sylvester seated by the open window, where he himself -had sat throughout the greater part of those five days and six nights -when he had so unceasingly watched over her to beat back hungry death -from her pillow. She occupied a great chair set for her there by -Mrs. Dallows, a rug about her knees. She was very pale and weak, yet -her loveliness seemed to draw added charms from her condition. She -wore that gown of ivory white in which she had been carried to this -evil house, and her chestnut hair had been dressed with care and was -intertwined with a thread of pearls. Her long eyes seemed of a darker, -deeper blue than usual, perhaps because of the hollows her illness had -left about them. And there were other changes in her that in their sum -appeared almost to spiritualize her, so that to Holles she seemed to -have recovered something of her lost childhood, of her early youth, and -looked less like Sylvia Farquharson, the idolized player, and more like -the Nancy Sylvester whom he had known and loved so dearly.</p> - -<p>Wistfully she looked up at him as he entered, then away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> through the -open window into the hot sunlight that scorched the almost empty street.</p> - -<p>He closed the door, advanced a pace or two, and halted.</p> - -<p>“You sent for me,” he said, “else I should not have ventured to -intrude.” And he stood now like a groom awaiting orders.</p> - -<p>A tinge of colour crept into her cheeks. One of her slender, tapering -hands, that in these days had grown almost transparent, plucked -nervously at the rug about her knees. Ill at ease as she was, her -speech assumed, despite her, a stilted, formal shape.</p> - -<p>“I sent for you, sir, that I might acknowledge the great debt in -which you have placed me; to thank you for your care of me, for your -disregard of your own peril in tending me; in short, sir, for my life, -which had been lost without you.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him suddenly as she ceased, whereupon he shifted his -glance to the sunlight in the open so as to avoid the unbearable gaze -of her eyes that were gleaming like wet sapphires.</p> - -<p>“You owe me no thanks—no thanks at all,” he said, and his voice was -almost gruff. “I but sought to undo the evil I had done.”</p> - -<p>“That ... that was before the plague came to my rescue. In what you did -then, you sought at the risk of your life to make me the only possible -amend, and to deliver me from the evil man into whose power you had -brought me. But the plague, now. It was no fault of yours that I took -that. It was already upon me when you brought me hither.”</p> - -<p>“No matter for that,” said he. “Reparation was due. I owed it to -myself.”</p> - -<p>“You did not owe it to yourself to risk your life for me.”</p> - -<p>“My life, madam, is no great matter. A life misused,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> misspent, has no -great value. It was the least that I could offer.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” she answered gently. “But also it was the most, and, as I -have said, far more than you owed.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think so. But the matter is not worth contending.”</p> - -<p>He did not help her. Persuaded of the scorn that must underline her -utterances, however smooth—because conscious that scorn was his only -desert—he accepted her words as expressions of a pitying gratitude -that offended. He stood before her, overwhelmed by the consciousness -of his unworthiness, in a mood of the most abject humility. But -unconsciously, without suspecting it, he had empanoplied this humility -in pride. His desire, above all, was to withdraw from an interview that -could be nothing but a source of pain.</p> - -<p>But she detained him, persisting in what he accounted her cruel charity.</p> - -<p>“At least the reparation you have made is a very full one.”</p> - -<p>“It would comfort me to hear you say it, could I believe you,” he -answered grimly, and would have taken his leave of her on that but that -she stayed him by her interjection.</p> - -<p>“Why should you not believe me? Why should I be other than sincere in -my desire to thank you?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her at last, and in his eyes she saw some reflection of -the pain he was suffering.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I believe you sincere in that. You wish to thank me. It is -natural, I suppose. You thank me; but you despise me. Your gratitude -cannot temper your contempt. It is not possible.”</p> - -<p>“Are you so sure?” she asked him gently, and her eyes were very piteous.</p> - -<p>“Sure? What else can I be? What else is possible? Do I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> not loathe and -despise myself? Am I so unconscious of my own infamy that I should -befool myself into the thought that any part of it can escape you?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t!” she said. “Ah, don’t!” But in the sorrow in her face he -read no more than the confirmation of the very thing she was feebly -attempting to deny.</p> - -<p>“Is it worth while to close our eyes to a truth so self-evident?” he -cried. “For years I sought you, Nan, a man without a stain upon his -name, to find you at last in an hour in which I was so besmirched -that I could not bear your eyes upon me. The very act that by a cruel -irony of chance brought us together here at last was an act by which -I touched the very bottom of the pit of infamy. Then—that dreadful -night—you regarded me rightly with loathing. Now you regard me with -pity because I am loathsome. Out of that pity, out of your charity, you -fling me thanks that are not due, since what I have done was done in -mitigation of my offence. What more is there to say? If this house were -not locked, and I a prisoner here, I should have gone by now. I should -have departed in that blessed moment that Beamish announced your danger -at an end, taking care that our paths should never cross again, that I -might never again offend you with the sight of my loathsomeness or the -necessity to render thanks for benefits received from unclean hands, -that you properly despise.”</p> - -<p>“You think that sums all up?” she asked him, sadly incredulous. “It -does not. It leaves still something to be said—indeed, a deal.”</p> - -<p>“Spare it me,” he begged her passionately. “Out of that same charity -that bids you thank me, spare me.” Then, more briskly, with a certain -finality, he added: “If you have commands for me, madam, I shall be -below until this house is reopened, and we can go our separate ways -again.”</p> - -<p>He bowed formally, and turned away. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Randal!” she called to him as he reached the door. He paused, his firm -resolve beaten down by that pleading utterance of his name. “Randal, -won’t you tell me how ... how you came into ... into the position in -which I found you here? Won’t you tell me that? Won’t you let me know -all—all—so that I may judge for myself?”</p> - -<p>A moment he stood there, white to the lips and trembling, fighting his -pride—that pride which was masquerading in the garment of humility, -and so deceived him that he suffered it to prevail.</p> - -<p>“Judge me, madam, upon the evidence you possess. It is sufficient to -enable you to do me justice. Nothing that went before, no vicissitudes -of my vagrant life, can extenuate the thing you know of me. I am a -scoundrel, a loathsomeness, an offence, and you know me to be this—you -in whose eyes I would ever have appeared as a man of shining honour. -Oh, God pity me! Don’t you see? Don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes were suddenly aswim in tears.</p> - -<p>“I see that perhaps you judge yourself too hardly. Let me judge for -myself, Randal. Don’t you see that I am aching to forgive? Is my -forgiveness nothing to you?”</p> - -<p>“It would be all,” he answered her. “But I could never believe in -it. Never. You are aching to forgive, you say. Oh, blessed, healing -words! But why is this? Because you are grateful to me for the life -I have helped to save. That is the true source of your pity for my -soul’s deformity, which is urging you to utter this forgiveness. But -behind that gratitude and that forgiveness there must ever remain the -contempt, the loathing of this deformity of mine. It must be so. I -know it, or I know nothing. Because of that....” He broke off, leaving -the sentence there, completing it with a wry smile and a despairing -shrug. But she saw neither. She had averted her eyes again, and she -was looking straight before her into the sunlight, across to the -black-timbered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> yellow houses opposite which were blurred in her sight -by tears.</p> - -<p>Softly he went out, and closed the door. She heard him go, and suffered -him to do so, making no further attempt to stay him, knowing not what -to say to combat his desperate convictions.</p> - -<p>Heavy-footed he went down the stairs, back to that room where he had -his being. And as he went his thoughts confirmed him. They had met at -last, those two, only that they might part again. Their ways could -never lie together. Overshadowing their joint lives there must ever be -the loathly memory of that irrevocable thing he had done. Even if he -were not the broken vagrant that he was, even if he had anything to -offer in life to the woman of his dreams, his action when he played -the jackal for Buckingham must render impossible between them any -tenderness that should be sincere and unalloyed.</p> - -<p>He was in a mood from which there was no escape. Pride hemmed his -soul about with walls of humility and shame, and there was no issue -thence save by the door that the plague might open. Yet even the plague -refused to stand his friend.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">EVASION</span></h2> - -<p>The weeks crept on, and August was approaching. Soon now the period of -quarantine would be at an end, and the house in Knight Ryder Street -reopened to liberate its inmates. Yet the passing of time wrought no -change in the mood of Holles. Not once again did he seek to approach -Nancy, and not again did she bid him to her presence.</p> - -<p>He informed himself constantly of her progress, and learnt with -satisfaction that she was fast recovering her strength. But Mrs. -Dallows who brought him this daily information was also at pains to let -him know at the same time that there was no recovery in spirits to be -observed in her charge.</p> - -<p>“She is very sad and lonely, poor, sweet lady. It would melt your heart -to see her, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye,” Holles would gloomily make answer to that oft-reiterated -report. And that was all.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Dallows was not a little afflicted. And affliction in Mrs. Dallows -had the effect of heightening her resemblance to a hen. She perceived, -of course, that a mystery enshrouded the relations of these two, saw -that some obstacle stood between them, holding them apart—to their -mutual torment, since obviously they were designed to be lovers; and -more than once she sought to force the confidence now of one, now of -the other. Her motives, no doubt, were entirely charitable. She was -eager to help them, if it were possible, to a better understanding. But -her efforts to probe their secret remained unavailing, and she could -but sorrow in their sorrow. It was the more grievous and vexatious to -her because the deep concern of each for the other was manifest in the -questions each set her daily. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> - -<p>Holles kept to his quarters below-stairs, smoking continuously and -drinking deeply, too, until he had consumed the little store of wine -the house contained. Then not even the nepenthe of the cup remained to -assuage his grim despondency, his repeated assertions to himself that -his life was lived, that he was a dead man without further business -above-ground.</p> - -<p>Thus August found them, and from the watchman he heard incredible -stories of London’s deepening plight, whilst from the window he nightly -beheld the comet in the heavens, that latest portent of menace, the -flaming sword of wrath—as the watchman termed it—that was hung above -the accursed city, stretching, as it seemed, from Whitehall to the -Tower.</p> - -<p>They were within three days of the reopening of the house when at last -one evening Mrs. Dallows came to him trembling with excitement, and a -little out of breath.</p> - -<p>“Miss Sylvester, sir, bids me say that she will be obliged if you will -step upstairs to see her.”</p> - -<p>The message startled him.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” he cried out like a man in panic. Then, controlling himself, -he took refuge in postponement that would give him time to think: “Say -... say that if Miss Sylvester will excuse me ... not this evening. I -am tired ... the heat....” he vaguely explained.</p> - -<p>The nurse cocked her head on one side and her bright little birdlike -eyes considered him wistfully. “If not this evening, when? To-morrow -morning?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” he answered eagerly, thinking only of averting the -immediate menace. “In the morning. Tell her that I ... I shall wait -upon her then.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Dallows withdrew, leaving him oddly shaken and afraid. It was -himself he feared, himself he mistrusted. Where once the boy had -worshipped, the man now loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> with a love that heaped up and fed the -fires of shame in his soul until they threatened to consume him. At -his single interview with Nancy he had exposed his mind. He had been -strong; but he might not be strong again. The gentleness of purpose of -which she had allowed him a glimpse, a gentleness born of her cursed -gratitude, might lead him yet to play the coward, to give her the full -confidence that she invited, and so move her pity and through pity her -full forgiveness. And then if—as might well betide—he should prove -so weak as to fling himself at her feet, and pour out the tale of his -longings and his love, out of her sense of debt, out of her pity and -her gratitude she might take him, this broken derelict of humanity, and -so doom herself to be dragged down with him into the kennels where his -future lay.</p> - -<p>There stood a peril of a wrong far worse than that which already he -had done her, and for which in some measure he had perhaps atoned. And -because he could not trust himself to come again into her presence -preserving the silence that his honour demanded, he suffered tortures -now at the thought that to-morrow, willy-nilly, he must see her, since -it was her wish, and she was strong enough herself to seek him should -he still refuse to go.</p> - -<p>He sat, and smoked, and thought, resolved that at all costs that -interview must not take place. One way there was to avoid it and -definitely to set a term to the menace of it. That was to break out -of the sealed house at once without awaiting the expiry of the legal -term. It was a desperate way, and it might be attended by gravest -consequences to himself. But no other course presented itself, and the -consequences mattered nothing, after all.</p> - -<p>The thought became a resolve and, having reached it, he gave his mind -peace. This, indeed—and not the pains and risks he had taken to save -her from the plague—was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>reparation. Anon, when she came to consider -and weigh his action, she would perceive its true significance and -purpose, and the perception might at last blot out the contempt of him -which perforce must be abiding in her soul however she might seek to -overlay it with charity.</p> - -<p>A thought seized him, and, growing to purpose, exalted him. He sought -pen, ink, and paper, drew a chair to the table, and sat down to act -upon his inspiration.</p> - -<p>“You have asked,” he wrote, opening abruptly thus, “to know by what -steps I descended to the hell of infamy in which you discovered me. And -I refrained from answering you lest I should arouse in you a further -measure of your blessed, self-deceiving compassion. But now that I am -on the point of passing out of your life, now that there is no chance -that we should ever meet again, I am moved to tell you all, that thus I -may bear away with me the fortifying hope that hereafter you will hold -my memory in a pity that shall be free of execration.</p> - -<p>“The tale of the ill-fortune that has pursued me begins on a May -morning, many years ago, when I rode full of hope and eagerness into -Charmouth, a youth of some substance and more pride, whose feet were -firmly planted upon an honourable road of life. I went to claim you -for my own, to lay my little achievement and the assured promise of my -greater ones at your dear feet.”</p> - -<p>He wrote on into the fading daylight. He lighted candles, and wrote on -with that swift fluency of the man who has a clear tale to tell and the -eloquence that comes naturally from a bursting heart.</p> - -<p>The candles, faintly stirred by the night breeze that came through the -open window, burnt down, and great stalactites of wax were hanging from -the sconces; still he wrote without pause. He heard, but did not heed, -the changing of the watchman at the door below. Later he heard, but -did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> heed, the passing of the dead-cart with its accompaniment of -clanging bell and raucous summons.</p> - -<p>Once only he paused, to procure and light fresh candles, and then wrote -on. Not until long after midnight, not until the approach of dawn, did -he cease, his task accomplished.</p> - -<p>He sat back then in his tall chair, and stared straight before him, a -man bemused, considering. Thus awhile. Then from an inner pocket of his -doublet he drew a tasselled yellow glove that was slim and long and -sorely rubbed and stained with age. He considered it as it lay there -across his palm, and bethought him of that dawn many years ago when -it had dropped to him from his lady’s casement, and he had set it in -his hat, to be worn as a favour. He sighed, and a tear, wrung by the -anguish of this renunciation from his hardened, adventurer’s heart, -fell on his hand.</p> - -<p>Abruptly then he sat forward, and, snatching up the quill again, he -scrawled at fierce speed on the foot of the last of the written sheets:</p> - -<p>“Here is a glove that you bestowed on me in the long ago. I wore it, -as your knight wearing his lady’s favour in the lists of life, proudly -by the right of your gift and my unsullied honour. For years it was -an amulet to maintain that honour still unsullied against all trials -and temptations. Now that it has failed of this purpose through my own -cowardice and unworthiness, you may not wish me to retain it longer.”</p> - -<p>That manuscript—for it is hardly to be termed a letter—still -survives. Its faded characters cover some thirty pages of paper that -the centuries have tinted yellow. It has been—as you will surmise—in -my possession. It has supplied me with more than the mere elements of -this history, which without it could never have been written.</p> - -<p>He did not read it through when it was done. There was no time for -that. As he had poured it from his heart, so he left it. He folded the -sheets together, enclosing the glove<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> within them, wrapped a thread -of silk about the package, and on the knot of this he made a disc of -wax which he sealed with his thumb. He superscribed the package, quite -simply, “To Miss Nancy Sylvester,” and stood it there on the table -against the stem of the candle-branch within view of the first person -who should enter that room.</p> - -<p>Next he drew forth his still well-filled purse, and emptied its -contents on to the table. One half he replaced; of the other he made -two packets, addressing one to Dr. Beamish and the other to Mrs. -Dallows.</p> - -<p>Softly then he pushed back his chair, and rose. He tiptoed to the -window, and peered down into the shadows where the watchman kept his -post, propped in a corner of the padlocked doorway. A sound of snoring -came to inform Holles that, as he had reckoned, the fellow slept. Why -should he have troubled to weary himself with a strict and wakeful -vigilance? Who could be so mad as to wish to incur all the penalties of -evasion from a house that was to be opened now in three days’ time?</p> - -<p>Holles went back. He took up his hat and cloak. Then, acting upon a -sudden thought, he sought his baldric, and to the empty scabbard that -was attached to it he fitted the slender dress-rapier that Buckingham -had left behind him. The blade was rather loose in that sheath, but he -contrived to jam the hilt.</p> - -<p>Having passed the baldric over his head and settled it on his shoulder, -he blew out the candles, and a moment later he was at the window again.</p> - -<p>He scarcely made a sound as he straddled the window-sill; then very -gently he let himself down, until he hung at full length, his toes not -more than three feet above the kidney stones of the dark, empty, silent -street. A moment he hung there, steadying himself, then loosed his -hold. He dropped very lightly, and, as he was wearing no spurs, he made -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>practically no noise at all. At once he set off in the direction of -Sermon Lane.</p> - -<p>The watchman, momentarily disturbed by the movements so near at hand, -caught a sound of footsteps retreating quickly up the street, but never -dreamed of connecting them with any one from the house he guarded. He -settled himself more comfortably in his restful angle, and sank back -peacefully into his slumbers.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the evasion of Holles had not gone as entirely -unperceived as he imagined. Slight as had been the noise he made, yet -it had reached the window of the room immediately above, and by that -window—which was the window of Nancy’s room—sat Nancy driven to that -vigil by thoughts that rendered sleep impossible.</p> - -<p>Her attention aroused by those furtive sounds below, she had leaned far -out from the casement and peered down into the darkness. She had heard -the soft thud of feet as Holles dropped to the street, and immediately -thereafter the patter of his retreating footsteps. Very faintly she -thought she made out at the same time the receding figure of a man, a -deeper shadow amid shadows. But however little she may have seen with -the eyes of the flesh, she saw all with the eyes of her imagination. -She was on the point of crying out, but suddenly checked herself, -fearful of rousing the watchman and setting afoot a pursuit which, -if successful, might be attended by direst consequences for Holles. -And it was only that same dread that lent her strength to repress the -instinctive impulse to call him back and arrest that flight of his.</p> - -<p>Then she steadied herself. After all, it was possible that she was -at fault, that she was the victim of her own imaginings, that her -overwrought senses had played a trick upon her. But the doubt was -unbearable. She must make sure at once. With trembling, fumbling -fingers she kindled a light. Then with a rug wrapped about her over her -night-rail, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> made her way below. Thus she descended the stairs for -the first time, and as she went she blamed herself bitterly—in her -conviction that she would find things as she feared—for not having -earlier taken this step and gone to seek him who remained so obdurately -absent.</p> - -<p>When on the following morning an anxious Mrs. Dallows entered the -dining-room in fearful quest of her charge, she found her there, at -once to her infinite relief and infinite distress. In her night-rail, -the rug fallen from her bare shoulders, Nancy sat on the daybed under -the open window. She was pale and dry-eyed, but with such pain and -misery stamped upon her face that the sight of tears would have been -comforting by contrast. Beside her was a candlestick in which the -single candle had been burnt to the socket, about her the floor was -strewn with the sheets of Holles’s letter, which had slipped from her -nerveless fingers.</p> - -<p>That letter had accomplished all that Holles could have hoped from -it. It had quenched completely and finally any lingering embers of -her scorn. It had aroused compassion, and the old love, and finally -despair. For by his own act he was deliberately lost to her again. He -was gone, irrevocably, as he announced, and by the very manner of his -going had made himself an outlaw.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">HOME</span></h2> - -<p>Out of concern for her charge, Mrs. Dallows at once dispatched the -watchman for Dr. Beamish, and, when the physician arrived some little -while later, she acquainted him with the Colonel’s evasion and the -consequent partially stunned condition in which Miss Sylvester appeared -to move.</p> - -<p>The good doctor, who had come to conceive some measure of affection for -those two, rooted, perhaps, in a certain pity which their mysterious, -but obviously unhappy, relations aroused in him, went at once in -deepest distress to seek Miss Sylvester, who had meanwhile returned to -her own room above-stairs. He found her affliction the more distressing -to observe by virtue of her unnatural composure.</p> - -<p>“This is terrible, my dear,” he said, as he took her hands. “What can -have driven that unhappy man to so ... so unfortunate a course?”</p> - -<p>“He must be sought. You will order search to be made for him?” she -cried.</p> - -<p>He sighed and sorrowfully shook his head: “There is no need for me to -order that. My duty compels me to make his evasion known. Search for -him will follow; but, should he be found, it may go very hard with him; -there are rigorous penalties.”</p> - -<p>Thus, unavoidably, Dr. Beamish but added a fresh burden to her already -surcharged heart. It reduced her to a state of mind bordering upon -distraction. She knew not what to desire. Unless he were sought and -found, it followed that she would never see him again, whilst if he -were found he would have to reckon with the severity of the law, and -she could have no assurance that she would see him even then. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> - -<p>Out of his anxiety to help her, Dr. Beamish invited her confidence. He -conceived here a case of stupid, headstrong, human pride against which -two hearts were likely to be broken, and, because of that affection -which they had come to inspire in him, he would have done all in his -power to assist them could he but have obtained an indication of the -way. But Miss Sylvester, greatly as it would have eased her sorrow to -have confided in him, greatly as she desired to do so, found that no -confidence was possible without divulging the thing that Holles had -done, the hideous act by which she came to find herself in this house. -A sudden sense of loyalty to him made it impossible for her to publish -his infamy.</p> - -<p>So, rejecting the chance to ease by confidence the burden that she -carried, she continued to move, white-faced and listless, under the -load of it during the two remaining days of her detention. Nor did -the doctor come to her again until that third morning, when he was -once more accompanied by the examiner, who presented her and her -nurse-keeper each with a certificate of health that permitted their -free departure. Holles, she was then informed, had not yet been found; -but she knew not whether to rejoice or sorrow in that fact.</p> - -<p>Bearers were procured for her, the watchman himself volunteering to act -as one of them, and the chair in which she had been carried thither, -which had been bestowed in the house itself, was brought forth again at -her request, to carry her away.</p> - -<p>“But whither are you going?” the doctor questioned her in solicitude.</p> - -<p>They were standing in the doorway of the house, she with her light -hooded mantle of blue taffetas drawn over her white gown, the chair -standing in the sunlight, waiting to receive her.</p> - -<p>“Why, home. Back to my own lodging,” she answered simply. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Home?” he echoed, in amazement. “But ... but, then ... this house?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him as if puzzled by his astonishment. Then she smiled -wanly. “This house is not mine. I was here by ... by chance when I was -taken ill.”</p> - -<p>The belated revelation of that unsuspected circumstance filled him with -a sudden dread on her behalf. Knowing the changes that had come upon -that unfortunate City in the month that was overpast, knowing how many -were the abandoned houses that stood open now to the winds of heaven, -he feared with reason that hers might be one of these, or, at least, -that the odds were all against her finding her home, as she imagined, -in the condition in which she had left it.</p> - -<p>“Where is your lodging?” he asked her.</p> - -<p>She told him, adding that upon arrival there she would determine her -future movements. She thought, she ended, that she would seek awhile -the peace and quiet of the country. Perhaps she would return to London -when this visitation was at an end; perhaps she would not. That was -what she said. What she meant was really something very different.</p> - -<p>The announcement served to increase his dismay on her behalf. It was -easier now-a-days to project withdrawal into the country than to -accomplish it unless one commanded unusual power and wealth—and all -those who commanded these things had long since gone. The wholesale -flight from London that had taken place since she was stricken down -had been checked at last by two factors. There was no country town or -village for many and many a mile that would receive fugitives from -London, out of dread of the infection which these might carry. To repel -them the inhabitants of rural districts had even had recourse to arms, -until, partly because of this and to avoid disturbances and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> bloodshed, -partly as an heroic measure against the spread of the plague throughout -England, the Lord Mayor had been constrained to suspend the issue of -certificates of health, without which no man could depart from London. -Those who still remained in the infected area—where the plague was -taking now a weekly toll of thousands of lives—must abandon all hope -of quitting it until the pestilence should have subsided.</p> - -<p>Considering now her case and weighing what she had told him, Dr. -Beamish perceived that her need of him was far from being at an end. -Practical and spiritual assistance might be as necessary to her -presently as had lately been his physician’s ministrations.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said abruptly, “I will go with you to your lodging, and see -you safely bestowed there—that is, if you permit it.”</p> - -<p>“Permit it? Oh, my friend!” She held out her hand to him. “Shall I -permit you to do me this last kindness? I shall be more grateful than -ever I could hope to tell you.”</p> - -<p>He smiled through his owlish spectacles, and in silence patted the -little hand he held; then he made shift to lead her forward to her -chair.</p> - -<p>But a duty yet remained her. In the shadows of the hall behind lingered -still the kindly Mrs. Dallows, almost tearful at this parting from -the sweet charge for whom she had conceived so great a kindness. Miss -Sylvester ran back to her.</p> - -<p>“Keep this in memory of one who will never forget her debt to you and -never cease to think of you fondly.” Into her hand she pressed a clasp -of brilliants that she had taken from her bodice—a thing of price far -beyond the gold that Holles had left behind in payment for the nurse’s -services. Then, as Mrs. Dallows began at one and the same time to thank -her and to protest against this excessive munificence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> Nancy took the -kindly woman in her arms and kissed her. Both were in tears when Nancy -turned away and ran out to the waiting sedan.</p> - -<p>The bearers—the watchman, and the fellow he had fetched to assist -him—took up the chair and swung away towards Paul’s Chains. The little -black figure of the doctor strutted beside it, swinging the long red -wand that did him the office of a cane, whilst Mrs. Dallows, standing -at the door of the house in Knight Ryder Street, watched it out of -sight through a blur of tears.</p> - -<p>And within the chair Miss Sylvester, too, was giving way at last to -tears. They were the first she had shed since she had received the -Colonel’s letter, which letter was the only thing she carried away -with her from that ill-starred house. Lost thus to consciousness of -her surroundings, she took no heed of the emptiness and silence of the -streets, and of the general air of furtiveness and desolation that hung -about the few wayfarers upon whom they chanced and that marked the very -houses they were passing.</p> - -<p>Thus at last they came to Salisbury Court and to the house that Nancy -had indicated. And here at once Dr. Beamish saw that his worst fears -were realized.</p> - -<p>Its door hung wide, and the dust lay thick upon the window-panes, -two of which were broken. Miss Sylvester, having alighted from her -chair, stood looking up, arrested by the unusual aspect of the place, -and chilled by a nameless dismay. In awe-stricken wonder, she looked -round the court, utterly untenanted, and presenting everywhere the -same forsaken aspect. From behind a dusty window of a house across the -way, whose door was marked and locked and guarded, an aged yellow face -revealed itself, and a pair of eyes that seemed malignant in their -furtiveness were watching her. Beyond that ill-omened visage there was -in all the court no single sign of life. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What does it mean?” she asked the doctor.</p> - -<p>Sadly he shook his head. “Can you not guess? Here as elsewhere the -plague and the fear of the plague have been busy in your absence.” He -sighed, and added abruptly: “Let us go in.”</p> - -<p>They entered the gloomy vestibule, where dried leaves swept thither by -the winds crackled under their feet, and thence they began the ascent -of a narrow staircase on the baluster of which there was a mantle of -dust. Miss Sylvester called out once or twice as they advanced. But -there was no answer to those calls other than the hollow echoes they -awoke in that untenanted house.</p> - -<p>The three rooms that had composed her home were situated on the first -floor, and as they ascended to the landing they saw the three doors -standing open. Two of the chambers were shuttered, and, therefore, in -darkness; but the drawing-room, which directly faced the stair-head, -was all in sunlight, and even before they entered it they had a -picture of the devastation wrought there. The furniture was not merely -disarranged; it was rudely tumbled, some of it broken, and some was -missing altogether. Drawers hung open, as they had been pulled by -thieving hands, and that part of their contents which had not been -considered worth removing now strewed the floor. A glass cabinet -which had stood in one angle lay tumbled forward and shattered into -fragments. The <i>secrétaire</i> stood open, its lock broken, its contents -rifled, a litter of papers tossed upon and about it. The curtains, -torn from their poles—one of which hung broken across a window—had -disappeared, as had an Eastern rug that had covered a portion of the -floor.</p> - -<p>Dr. Beamish and the lady stood in silence just within the doorway for -a long moment, contemplating that dreadful havoc. Then Miss Sylvester -moved swiftly forward to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> <i>secrétaire</i>, in an inner drawer of -which she had left a considerable sum of money—representing most of -her immediate resources. That inner drawer had been wrenched open; the -money was gone.</p> - -<p>She turned and looked at Dr. Beamish, her face piteous in its white -dismay. She tried to speak, but her lip trembled, and her eyes filled -again with tears. To have endured so much, and to come home to this!</p> - -<p>The doctor started forward in answer to the pitiful appeal of that -glance. He advanced a chair that happened to be whole, and urged her -to sit down and rest, as if the rest she needed were merely physical. -She obeyed him, and with hands folded in her lap she sat there looking -helplessly around upon the wreckage of her home.</p> - -<p>“What am I to do? Where am I to turn?” she asked, and almost at once -supplied the answer: “I had better go from this accursed place at once. -I have an old aunt living in Charmouth. I will return to her.”</p> - -<p>She had also, she added, certain moneys in the hands of a banker near -Charing Cross. Once she should have withdrawn these there would be -nothing to keep her in London. She rose on the announcement as if there -and then to act upon it. But the doctor gently restrained her, gently -revealed to her the full helplessness of her position which was more -overwhelming even than she supposed.</p> - -<p>It must be almost certain that the banker she named would temporarily -have suspended business and withdrawn himself from a place in which -panic and confusion had made an end of commerce for the present. But -even if he should still be at his counting-house and able at once to -supply her demands, such a journey into the country as she contemplated -was almost utterly impossible. True, the accident of her having had the -plague had supplied her with a certificate of health, and in view of -this no one could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> hinder her departure. But, considering whence she -came, it would be with difficulty that out of London she would find any -one to give her shelter; most likely, indeed, that she would be driven -back by sheer necessity if not by force before she had gone farther -than a day’s journey.</p> - -<p>The realization of this unsuspected thing, that she was doomed to -imprisonment in this dreadful city which seemed abandoned alike by God -and man, inhabited only by the unfortunate and the unclean, a city of -dead and dying, drove her almost to the uttermost limits of despair.</p> - -<p>For a while she was half stunned and silent. Then speech came from her -wild and frantic.</p> - -<p>“What then? What then remains? What am I to do? How live? O God, if -only I had perished of the plague! I see now ... I see that the worst -wrong Randal Holles ever did me was when he saved my miserable life.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush! What are you saying, child?” The doctor set a comforting -arm about her shoulders. “You are not utterly alone,” he assured her -gently. “I am still here, to serve you, my dear, and I am your friend.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me,” she begged him.</p> - -<p>He patted her shoulder. “I understand. I understand. It is very hard -for you, I know. But you must have courage. While we have health and -strength, no ill of life is beyond repair. I am old, my dear; and I -know. Let us consider now your case.”</p> - -<p>“My friend, it is beyond considerations. Who can help me now?”</p> - -<p>“I can, for one; that is my intention.”</p> - -<p>“But in what way?”</p> - -<p>“Why, in several ways at need. But first I can show you how you may -help yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Help myself?” She looked up at him, frowning a little in her -mystification. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is in helping others that we best help ourselves,” he explained. -“Who labours but for himself achieves a barren life, is like the -unfaithful steward with his talents. Happiness lies in labouring for -your neighbour. It is a twofold happiness. For it brings its own reward -in the satisfaction of achievement, in the joy of accomplishment; -and it brings another in that, bending our thoughts to the needs and -afflictions of our fellows, it removes them from the contemplation of -the afflictions that are our own.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes. But how does it lie in my power now to do this?”</p> - -<p>“In several ways, my dear. I will tell you of one. By God’s mercy and -the loving heroism of a fellow-creature you have been cured of the -plague, and by that cure you have been rendered what is commonly known -as a ‘safe woman’—a person immune from infection who may move without -fear among those who suffer from the pestilence. Nurse-keepers are -very difficult to find, and daily their diminishing numbers grow less -equal to the ever-increasing work that this sad visitation provides. -Many of them are noble, self-sacrificing women who, without even such -guarantees of immunity as you now possess, go heroically among the -sufferers, and some of these—alas!—are constantly succumbing.” He -paused, peering at her shortsightedly through his spectacles.</p> - -<p>She looked up at him in round-eyed amusement.</p> - -<p>“And you are suggesting that I....” She broke off, a little appalled by -the prospect opened out to her.</p> - -<p>“You might do it because you conceive it to be a debt you owe to God -and your fellow-creatures for your own preservation. Or you might do it -so that, in seeking to heal the afflictions of others, you may succeed -in healing your own. But, however you did it, it would be a noble act, -and would surely not go unrewarded.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> - -<p>She rose slowly, her brows bent in thought. Then she uttered a little -laugh of self-pity. “And unless I do that, what else, indeed, am I to -do?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” he made haste to reassure her. “I do not wish to force you -into any course against your will. If the task is repugnant to you—and -I can well understand that it might be—do not imagine that I shall on -that account forsake you. I will not leave you helpless and alone. Be -sure of that.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him, and smiled a little.</p> - -<p>“It is repugnant, of course,” she confessed frankly. “How should it -be otherwise? I have lived soft and self-indulgently from childhood. -Therefore, if I do this thing, perhaps it will on that account be more -acceptable in the eyes of Heaven. As you say, it is a debt I owe.” She -put out a hand and took his arm. “I am ready, my friend, to set about -discharging it.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE DEAD-CART</span></h2> - -<p>Had you asked Colonel Holles in after-life how he had spent the week -that followed immediately upon his escape from the house in Knight -Ryder Street, he could have supplied you with only the vaguest and most -incomplete of accounts. His memories were a confused jumble, from which -only certain facts detached themselves with any degree of sharpness. -The ugly truth, which must be told, is that in all that week he was -hardly ever entirely sober. The thing began on the very night—or, -rather, morning—of his evasion.</p> - -<p>Without definite destination, or even aim beyond that of putting as -great a distance as possible between himself and Knight Ryder Street, -Holles came by way of Carter Lane into Paul’s Yard. There he hung a -moment hesitating—for a man may well hesitate when all directions are -as one to him; then he struck eastward, down Watling Street, finally -plunging into the labyrinth of narrow alleys to the north of it. Here -he might have wandered until broad daylight, but that, lost in the -heart of that dædal, he was drawn by sounds of revelry to a narrow -door, from under which a blade of light was stretched across the -cobbles of the street.</p> - -<p>It was the oddness of those sounds, as incongruous in this -plague-stricken London as if they had issued from the bowels of a -sepulchre, that gave him pause. On that mean threshold he stood -hesitating, peering up at the sign, which he could just discern to -be in the shape of a flagon, whence he must have concluded, had -other evidences been lacking, that the place was a tavern. Further -he concluded, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> his knowledge of the enactment by which all such -resorts were to close to custom at nine o’clock, that here a breach of -the law was being flagrantly committed.</p> - -<p>Attracted, on the one hand, by the thought of the oblivion that -might be purchased within, repelled, on the other, by the obviously -disreputable character of the place and by a curious sense of the -increased scorn he must evoke in Nancy’s mind could she witness his -weak surrender to so foul a temptation, he ended by deciding to pass -on. But, even as he turned to do so, the door was suddenly pulled open, -and across the street was flung a great shaft of yellow light in which -he stood revealed. Two drunken roisterers, lurching forth, paused a -moment, surprised, at the sight of him, arrested there. Then, with -drunken inconsequence, they fell upon him, took him each by an arm, and -dragged him, weakly resisting, over the threshold of that unclean den, -amid shouts of insensate, hilarious welcome from its inhabitants.</p> - -<p>Holles stood there in the glare and stench of a half-dozen fish-oil -lamps suspended from the beams of the low, grimy ceiling, blinking like -an owl, whilst the taverner, vehemently cursing the fools who had left -his door agape, made haste to close it again, shutting out as far as -possible sight and sound of this transgression of the recent rigorous -laws.</p> - -<p>When presently the Colonel’s eyes had grown accustomed to the light, he -took stock of his surroundings. He found himself in a motley gathering -of evil-looking, raffish men, and no less evil-looking women. In all -there may have been some thirty of them huddled there together in that -comparatively restricted space. The men were rufflers and foists and -worse; the women were trulls of various degrees, with raddled cheeks -and glittering eyes. Some were maudlin, some hilarious, and some lay -helpless and inert as logs. All of them had been drinking to excess, -save, perhaps, some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> four or five who were gathered about a table -apart, snarling over a pack of greasy cards. They were men and women -of the underworld, whom circumstances, and the fact that no further -certificates of health were being issued, confined to the plague-ridden -city; and, in an excess of the habits of debauch that were usual to -them, they took this means of cheating for a brief while the terror in -which normally they lived and moved in that stronghold of death. It was -a gathering typical of many that Asmodeus might have discovered had he -troubled on any of those August nights to lift the roofs of London’s -houses.</p> - -<p>Holles surveyed them with cold disgust, whilst they stared -questioningly back at him. They had fallen silent now, all save one -who, maudlin, in a corner, persisted in continuing an obscene song with -which he had been regaling the company when the Colonel entered.</p> - -<p>“Gads my life!” said Holles, at length. “But that I am told the Court -has gone to Salisbury, I might suppose myself in Whitehall.”</p> - -<p>The double-edged gibe shook them into an explosion of laughter. They -acclaimed him for a wit, and proceeded to pronounce him free of their -disreputable company, whilst the two topers who had lugged him in from -the open dragged him now to one of the tables where room was readily -made for him. He yielded to the inevitable. He had a few pieces in -his pocket, and he spent one of these on burnt sack before that wild -company broke up, and its members crept to their homes, like rats to -their burrows, in the pale light of dawn.</p> - -<p>Thereafter he hired a bed from the vintner, and slept until close -upon noon. Having broken his fast upon a dish of salt herrings, he -wandered forth again, errant and aimless. He won through a succession -of narrow, unclean alleys into the eastern end of Cheapside, and stood -there, aghast to survey the change that the month had wrought. In that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -thoroughfare, usually the busiest in London, he found emptiness and -silence. Where all had been life and bustle, a continual stream of -coaches and chairs of wayfarers on foot and on horseback, of merchants -and prentices at the shop doors with their incessant cries of “What -d’ye lack?” and clamorous invitations to view the wares and bargains -that they offered, the street from end to end was now empty of all but -some half-dozen stragglers like himself, and one who with averted head -was pushing a wheelbarrow whose grim load was covered by a cloak.</p> - -<p>Not a coach, not a chair, not a horse in sight, and not a merchant’s -voice to be heard; not even a beggar’s whine. Here and there a shop -stood open, but where there were no buyers there was no eagerness to -sell. Some few houses he beheld close-shuttered and padlocked, each -marked with the red cross and guarded by its armed watchman; one or two -others he observed to stand open and derelict. Last of all, but perhaps -most awe-inspiring, as being the most eloquent witness to the general -desolation, he saw that blades of grass were sprouting between the -kidney stones with which the street was paved, so that, but for those -lines of houses standing so grim and silent on either side, he could -never have supposed himself to be standing in a city thoroughfare.</p> - -<p>He turned up towards St. Paul’s, his steps echoing in the noontide -through the empty street as echo at midnight the steps of some belated -reveller.</p> - -<p>It were unprofitable further to follow him in those aimless wanderings, -in which he spent that day and the days that followed. Once he made -an excursion as far as Whitehall, to assure himself that His Grace of -Buckingham was, indeed, gone from Town, as Dr. Beamish had informed -him. He went spurred by the desire to vent a sense of wrong that came -to the surface of his sodden wits like oil to the surface of water. -But he found the gates of Wallingford House<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> closed and its windows -tight-shuttered, as were by then practically all the windows that -overlooked that forsaken courtly thoroughfare.</p> - -<p>Albemarle, he learnt from a stray sailor with whom he talked, was -still at the Cockpit. True to his character, Honest George Monk -remained grimly at his post unmoved by danger; indeed, going freely -abroad in utter contempt of it, engrossed in the charitable task of -doing whatever a man in his position could do to mitigate the general -suffering.</p> - -<p>Holles was tempted to seek him. But the temptation was not very strong -upon him, and he withstood it. Such a visit would but waste the time of -a man who had no time to waste; therefore, Albemarle was hardly likely -to give him a welcome.</p> - -<p>His nights were invariably spent at the sign of the Flagon in that -dismal alley off Watling Street into which merest chance had led him -in the first instance. What attraction the place could have held for -him he would afterwards have found it difficult to define. There is -little doubt that it was just his loneliness that impelled thither his -desire for the only society that he knew to be available, a company of -human beings in similar case to himself, who sought in the nepenthes -of the wine-cup and in riotous debauch a temporary oblivion of their -misery and desolation. Low though he might previously have come, -neither was this the resort nor were the thieves and harlots by whom -it was frequented the associates that he would ordinarily have chosen. -Fortune, whose sport he had ever been, had flung him among these human -derelicts; and there he continued, since the place afforded him the -only thing he craved until death should—as he hoped—bring him final -peace.</p> - -<p>The end came abruptly. One night—the seventh that he spent in that -lewd haunt of recklessness—he drank more deeply even than his deep -habit. As a consequence, when,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> at the host’s bidding, he lurched -out into the dark alley, the last of all those roisterers to depart, -his wits were drugged to the point of insensibility. He moved like -an automaton, on legs that mechanically performed their function. -Staggering under him, they bore his swaying body in long lurches down -the lane, until he must have looked like some flimsy simulacrum of a -man with which the wind made sport.</p> - -<p>Without apprehension or care of the direction in which he was moving, -he came into Watling Street, crossed it, plunged into a narrow alley -on the southern side, and reeled blindly onward until his feet struck -an obstacle in their unconscious path. He pitched over it, and fell -forward heavily upon his face. Lacking the will and the strength to -rise again, he lay where he had fallen, and sank there into a lethargic -sleep.</p> - -<p>A half-hour passed. It was the half-hour immediately before the dawn. -Came a bell tinkling in the distance. Slowly it drew nearer, and a -cry repeated at intervals might have been audible and intelligible to -Holles had he been conscious. Soon to these were added other sounds: -the melancholy creak of an axle that required greasing, and the slow -clank and thud of hooves upon the cobbles. Nearer rang the cry upon the -silent night:</p> - -<p>“Bring out your dead!”</p> - -<p>The vehicle halted at the mouth of the alley in which the Colonel lay, -and a man advanced, holding a flaming link above his head so as to cast -its ruddy glare hither and thither to search the dark corners of that -by-way.</p> - -<p>This man beheld two bodies stretched upon the ground: the Colonel’s and -the one over which the Colonel had stumbled. He shouted something over -his shoulder and advanced again. He was followed a moment later by the -cart, conducted by his fellow, who walked at the horse’s head, pulling -at a short pipe. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> - -<p>Whilst he who held the torch stood there to light the other in his -work, his companion stooped and rolled over the first body, then -stepped forward, and did the same by Colonel Holles. The Colonel’s -countenance was as livid as that of the corpse that had tripped him up, -and he scarcely seemed to breathe. They bestowed no more than a glance -upon him with the terrible callous indifference that constant habit -will bring to almost any task, and then returned to the other.</p> - -<p>The man with the link thrust this into a holder attached to the -front of the dead-cart. Then the two of them on their knees made an -examination of the body, or rather of such garments as were upon it.</p> - -<p>“Not much to trouble over here, Larry,” said one.</p> - -<p>“Aye,” growled Larry. “They’re sorry enough duds. Come on, Nick. Let’s -heave her aboard.”</p> - -<p>They rose, took down their hooks, and seizing the body by them they -swung it up into the vehicle.</p> - -<p>“Fetch the prancer nearer,” said Nick, as he turned and stepped towards -Holles. The horse was led forward some few paces, so that the light -from the cart now fell more fully upon the Colonel’s long supine figure.</p> - -<p>Nick went down on one knee beside him, and uttered a grunt of -satisfaction. “This is better.”</p> - -<p>His fellow came to peer over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“A gentry-cove, damme!” he swore with horrible satisfaction. Their -practised ghoulish fingers went swiftly over Holles, and they chuckled -obscenely at sight of the half-dozen gold pieces displayed in Larry’s -filthy paw.</p> - -<p>“Not much else,” grumbled one after a further inspection.</p> - -<p>“There’s his sword—a rich hilt; look, Larry.”</p> - -<p>“And there’s a fine pair o’ stampers,” said Larry, who was already busy -about the Colonel’s feet. “Lend a hand, Nick.”</p> - -<p>They pulled the boots off and made a bundle of them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> together with -the Colonel’s hat and cloak. This bundle Larry dropped into a basket -that hung behind the cart, whilst Nick remained to strip Holles of his -doublet. Suddenly he paused.</p> - -<p>“He’s still warm, Larry,” he said querulously.</p> - -<p>Larry approached, pulling at his pipe. He growled a lewd oath, -expressive of contempt and indifference.</p> - -<p>“What odds?” he added cynically. “He’ll be cold enough or ever we comes -to Aldgate.” And he laughed as he took the doublet Nick flung to him.</p> - -<p>The next moment their filthy hooks were in the garments they had left -upon Holles, and they had added him to the terrible load that already -half-filled their cart.</p> - -<p>They backed the vehicle out of the alley, and then trundled on, going -eastward, their destination being the pit at Aldgate. Ever and anon -in their slow progress they would halt either at the summons of a -watchman or at what they found for themselves. At every halt they -made an addition to their load which they bore away for peremptory -burial in that Aldgate plague-pit, above which on these hot nights -the corpse-candles flickered almost constantly to increase the tale -of portents and to scare the credulous into the belief that the place -was haunted by the souls of those unfortunates whose bodies lay -irreverently tumbled there under the loosely shovelled clay.</p> - -<p>They were already approaching their destination, and the first light -of dawn, pallid, cold, and colourless as a moonstone, was beginning to -dispel the darkness, when, be it from the jolting of the cart, or from -the flow of blood where one of those foul hooks had scraped his thigh, -or yet from preserving Nature, quickening his wits that he might save -himself from suffocation, the Colonel was aroused from his drunken -trance.</p> - -<p>He awakened, thrusting fiercely for air, and seeking to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> dislodge a -heavy mass that lay across his face. The efforts that at first he made -were but feeble, as was to be expected from one in his condition; so -that he gained no more than brief respites, in each of which, like a -drowning man struggling repeatedly to the surface, he gasped a breath -of that foul contamination about him. But finding each effort succeeded -by a suffocation that became ever more painful, a sort of terror seized -upon him, and pulled his senses out of their drunken torpor. He braced -himself and heaved more strenuously, until at length he won clear, so -far, at least, as his head was concerned.</p> - -<p>He saw the paling stars above and was able at last to breathe freely -and without effort. But the burden which he had succeeded in thrusting -from his head, now lay across his breast, and the weight of it was -troublesome and painful. He put forth a hand, and realizing by the -sense of touch that what he grasped was a human arm, he shook it -vigorously. Eliciting no response, he began to grow angry.</p> - -<p>“Afoot there, ye drunken lob,” he growled in a thick voice. “Get up, I -say. Get up! O’s my life! D’ye take me for a bed that you put yourself -to sleep across me? Gerrup!” he roared, his anger increasing before -that continued lack of response. “Gerrup, or I’ll....”</p> - -<p>He ceased abruptly, blinking in the glare of light that suddenly struck -across his eyes from the flaming head of the torch which had been -thrust upwards. The cart had come to a standstill, and above the tall -sides of it, rising into his field of vision, came the two horrible -figures of the carters, whom the sound of his voice had brought to -mount the wheels of the vehicle.</p> - -<p>There was something so foul and infernal in those faces, as seen there -in the ruddy glare of the torch, that the sight of them brought the -Colonel a stage nearer to sobriety. He struggled up into a sitting -position, and looked about him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> bewildered, uneasy, furiously -endeavoring to conjecture where he might be.</p> - -<p>In plaintive impatience came the nasal voice of one of those ghouls.</p> - -<p>“I told ye the gentry-cove was warm, Larry.”</p> - -<p>“Aye! Well? And what now?” quoth the other querulously.</p> - -<p>“Why, fling him out, o’ course.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! Let him ride. If he’s not stiff yet, he soon will be. What’s the -odds?”</p> - -<p>“And what o’ the plague examiner, you fool? Won’t he see that it’s just -a drunken cove who was sleeping off his booze? And what’ll he say to -us? Here! Lend a hand! Let’s get him out.”</p> - -<p>But Holles was no longer in need of their assistance. Their words and -what he saw of that grim load of which he was a part had made him -realize at last his ghastly situation. The sheer horror of it not only -sobered him completely; it lent him a more than ordinary strength. He -heaved himself clear, and struggled, gasping, to his knees. Thence he -gripped the side of the cart, pulled himself to his feet, flung a leg -over and leapt down, stumbling as he did so, and sprawling full length -upon the ground.</p> - -<p>By the time he had gathered himself up, the cart was already trundling -on again, and the peals of hoarse, obscene laughter from the carters -were ringing hideously through the silent street.</p> - -<p>Holles fled from the sound, back by the way that he had been carried, -and it was not until he had gone some distance, not until the foul -hilarity of the carters and the clatter of the accursed cart itself had -faded out of earshot, that he began to grow conscious of his condition. -He was without cloak or hat or doublet or boots. The fact that his -sword was gone, as well as the little money that still remained him, -seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> him just then to matter rather less. What chiefly troubled -him was that he was cold and dizzy. He shivered every now and then as -with an ague; his head was a globe of pain and his senses reeled. Yet -he was sober, he assured himself. He could think coherently, and he was -able to piece together, not only the thing that had happened to him, -but the very manner of its happening.</p> - -<p>Mechanically he trudged on and on, aimlessly now, a man walking in a -nightmare. The light grew. The moonstone light of early dawn took on -colour and began to glow as with the fires of the opal; the sky was -invaded and suffused by the saffron heralds of the sun.</p> - -<p>At last he paused, without knowledge or care of where he was; utterly -bereft of strength, he sank presently into the shelter of the doorway -of a deserted house, and there fell asleep.</p> - -<p>When next he awakened, he was lying in the full glare of a sun that was -already high in the heavens. He looked about him, and found himself in -surroundings that were utterly strange to him, so that he could form no -notion of whither he had strayed.</p> - -<p>In mid-street stood a man in a steeple hat dressed in black, leaning -upon a red wand and regarding him attentively.</p> - -<p>“What ails you?” the man asked him, seeing him awake and conscious.</p> - -<p>Disgruntled, Holles glared at him. “The sight of you,” he snapped, and -struggled stiffly up. “Naught else.”</p> - -<p>Yet, even as he gained his feet, a giddiness assailed him. He steadied -himself a moment against the door-post: then reeled and sank down again -upon the step that had been his couch. For some few seconds he sat -there bemused, marvelling at his condition. Then, acting on a sudden -thought, he tore open the breast of his shirt. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I lied!” he shouted wildly. When next he looked up, he was laughing, a -ringing, exultant laugh. “I lied! There is something else. Look!” And -he pulled his shirt wider apart, so that the man might see what he had -found. And that was the last thing that he remembered.</p> - -<p>On his breast the flower of the plague had blossomed while he slept.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PEST-HOUSE</span></h2> - -<p>There ensued for Colonel Holles on some plane other than that of -mundane life a period of fevered activity, of dread encounters and -terrible combats, of continual strife with a relentless opponent -dressed in black and white satin who wore the countenance of His Grace -of Buckingham and who was ever on the point of slaying him, yet, -being unmerciful, never slayed. These combats usually took place in a -sombre panelled room by the light of a cluster of candles in a silver -branch, and they had for witness a white-clad, white-faced woman with -long blue-green eyes and heavy chestnut hair, who laughed in glee and -clapped her hands at each fresh turn of the encounter. Sometimes, -however, the battle-ground was a cherry orchard, sometimes the humble -interior of a yeoman’s cottage in the neighbourhood of Worcester. But -the actors were ever the same three.</p> - -<p>The fact is that Holles lived in a world of delirium, whence at last -he awakened one day to sanity—awakened to die, as he thought, when he -had taken stock of his surroundings and realized them by the aid of the -memories he assembled of his last waking conscious hours.</p> - -<p>He found himself lying on a pallet, near a window, through which he had -a glimpse of foliage and of a strip of indigo sky. Directly overhead -were the bare rafters of a roof that knew no ceiling. He turned his -head on his pillow and looked away to his left, down a long barnlike -room in which stood a half-dozen such pallets as his own, and upon each -a sufferer like himself. One or two of them lay inert, as if in death; -the others tossed and moaned, whilst one, still more violent, was -struggling fiercely with his keepers. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was not a pleasant sight for a man in his condition, so he rolled -his head back to its first position, and thus returned to the -contemplation of that strip of sky. A great calm settled upon the -soul that clung to his fever-wasted body. He understood his situation -perfectly. He was stricken with the plague, and he was vouchsafed this -interval of consciousness—the consciousness, perhaps, that is the -herald of dissolution—in order that he might return thanks to God that -at last the sands of his miserable life were run and peace awaited him. -The very contemplation of this sufficed to blot out at last the shame -that could never in life have left him, the haunting spectre of the -loathing he must have inspired in her against whom he had so grossly -sinned. He remembered that full confession he had left for her. And it -was sweet to reflect, before passing out into the cold shadows, that -its perusal, revealing all that had gone to make an utter villain of -him, showing how Fate had placed him between the hammer and the anvil, -might mitigate the contempt in which inevitably she must have held him.</p> - -<p>Tears gathered in his eyes, and rolled down his wasted cheeks. They -were tears at once of physical weakness and of thanksgiving, rather -than of self-pity.</p> - -<p>Steps were softly approaching his bedside. Some one was leaning over -him. He turned his head once more and looked up. And then a great -fear took possession of him, so that for a moment his heart seemed to -contract. Aloud, he explained to himself that apparition.</p> - -<p>“I am at my dreams again!” he complained in a whisper.</p> - -<p>At his bedside stood a woman, young and comely in the grey homespun, -with the white bands and bib and coif that made up the garb of -Puritans. Her face was small and pale and oval, her eyes were long, of -a colour between blue and green, very wistful now in their expression, -and from under the wings of her coif escaped one or two heavy chestnut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -curls, to lie upon her white neck. A fine cool hand sought his own -where it lay upon the coverlet, a voice that was full of soft, sad -music answered him.</p> - -<p>“Nay, Randal. You are awake at last—thank God!”</p> - -<p>And now he saw that those long wistful eyes were aswim in tears.</p> - -<p>“Where am I, then?” he asked, in his first real bewilderment since -awakening. Almost he began to imagine that he must have dreamt all -those things which he had deemed actual memories of a time that had -preceded his delirium.</p> - -<p>“In the pest-house in Bunhill Fields,” she told him, which only served -to increase the confusion in his mind.</p> - -<p>“That is ... I can understand that. I have the plague, I know. I -remember being stricken with it. But you? How come you here ... in a -pest-house?”</p> - -<p>“There was nowhere else for me to go, after ... after I left that -house in Knight Ryder Street.” And very briefly she explained the -circumstances. “So Dr. Beamish brought me here. And here I have been by -the blessing of Providence,” she ended, “tending the poor victims of -the plague.”</p> - -<p>“And you tended me? You?” Incredulous amazement lent strength to his -enfeebled voice.</p> - -<p>“Did not you tend me?” she answered him.</p> - -<p>He made a gesture of repudiation with one of his hands, grown so pale -and thin. Then he sighed and smiled contentedly.</p> - -<p>“God is very good to me a sinner. As I lay here now all that I craved -was that you, knowing the full truth of my villainy, of the temptation -by which I fell, should speak a little word of pity and forgiveness to -me to ... to make my dying easier.”</p> - -<p>“Your dying? Why do you talk of death?”</p> - -<p>“Because it comes, by the mercy of God. To die of the plague is what -I most deserve. I sought it and it fled before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> me. Yet in the end I -stumbled upon it by chance. All my life is it thus that things have -come to me. That which I desire and pursue eludes me. When I cease the -pursuit, it turns and takes me unawares. In all things have I been the -sport of Fortune; even in my dying, as it seems.”</p> - -<p>She would have interrupted, but he hurried on, deceived by his own -weakness.</p> - -<p>“Listen a moment yet, lest I go before I have said what is yet to add -to the letter that I left for you. I swear, by my last feeble hope -of heaven, that I did not know it was you I was to carry off, else I -had gone to the hangman before ever I had lent myself to the Duke’s -business. You believe me?”</p> - -<p>“There is no need for your assurances, Randal. I never doubted that. -How could I?”</p> - -<p>“How could you? Aye, that is true. You could not. So much, at least, -would not have been possible, however I might have fallen.” Then he -looked at her with piteous eyes. “I scarce dare hope that you’ll -forgive me all....”</p> - -<p>“But I do, Randal. I do. I have long since forgiven you. I gave you my -forgiveness and my gratitude when I knew what you had done for me, how -you risked your life in reparation. If I could forgive you then, can I -harbour resentment now that I know all? I do forgive—freely, utterly, -completely, Randal dear.”</p> - -<p>“Say it again,” he implored her.</p> - -<p>She said it, weeping quietly.</p> - -<p>“Then I am content. What matter all my unrealized dreams of crowned -knight-errantry, all my high-flown ambitions? To this must I have come -in the end. I was a fool not to have taken the quiet good to which I -was born. Then might we have been happy, Nan, and neither of us would -have felt the need to seek the hollow triumphs of the world.”</p> - -<p>“You talk as if you were to die,” she reproved him through her tears. -“But you shall get well again.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That surely were a crowning folly when I may die so happily.”</p> - -<p>And then the doctor supervened to interrupt them, and to confirm -circumstantially her assertion that Holles was now out of danger.</p> - -<p>The truth is that, what he had done for her when she was -plague-stricken, she had now done for him. By unremitting care of him -in the endless hours of his delirium, reckless of how she exhausted -herself in the effort, she had brought him safely through the Valley -of the Shadow, and already, even as he spoke of dying, deluded by his -weakness and the great lassitude that attends exhaustion into believing -that already he stood upon the threshold, his recovery was assured.</p> - -<p>Within less than a week he was afoot, regaining strength, and -pronounced clear of the infection. Yet, before they would suffer -him to depart into the world again, he must undergo the period of -sequestration that the law prescribed, so as to ensure against his -conveying the infection to others. For this he was to be removed from -the pest-house to a neighbouring abode of rest and convalescence.</p> - -<p>When the hour of departure came, he went to take his leave of Nancy. -She awaited him on the lawn under the tall old cedars of Lebanon that -graced the garden of this farm which had been converted to the purposes -of a hospital. Slimly graceful she stood before him, whilst in a voice, -which he laboured to keep steady, he uttered words of an irrevocable -farewell.</p> - -<p>It was very far from what she had been expecting, as he might have read -in the pale dismay that overspread her countenance.</p> - -<p>There was a stone seat near at hand there in the shade, and she -sank limply down upon this whilst he stood beside her awaiting her -dismissal. He was very plainly clad, in garments which she had secretly -caused to be procured for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> him, but which he supposed to be the parting -gift of the charitable pest-house authorities.</p> - -<p>She controlled herself to ask him steadily:</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do? Where shall you go when ... when the month -is past?”</p> - -<p>He smiled and shrugged a little. “I have not yet considered fully,” -he answered her in actual words, whilst his tone conveyed that he had -neither thought nor care of what might follow. Fortune, it might be -said, had been kind to him; for Fortune had given him back his life -when it was all but lost. But it was the way of Fortune to fool him -with gifts when he could no longer profitably use them. “It may be,” -he added, answering the round stare of her eyes, “that I shall go to -France. There is usually work for a soldier there.”</p> - -<p>She lowered her glance, and for a long moment there was silence. Then -she spoke again, calmly, almost formally, marshalling the points of an -argument that she had well considered.</p> - -<p>“You remember that day when we talked, you and I, in that house in -Knight Ryder Street, just after my recovery? When I would have thanked -you for my life, you rejected my thanks as you rejected the forgiveness -that I offered. You rejected it, persuaded that I was moved only by -gratitude for the life you had saved; that I sought by that forgiveness -to discharge the debt in which you had placed me.”</p> - -<p>“It was so,” he said, “and it is so. It cannot be otherwise.”</p> - -<p>“Can it not? Are you so very sure?” One upward appealing glance she -flashed him as she asked the question.</p> - -<p>“As I am sure that out of your sweet charity you deceive yourself,” he -answered.</p> - -<p>“Do I? Let us say that I did. But if you say that I still do, then you -are overlooking something. I am no longer in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> your debt. I have paid -it in another and a fuller way. As you saved my life, so have I since -saved yours. I thanked God for the merciful chance to do this, since by -doing it I could wipe out this debt that seemed to stand between us. We -are quits now, Randal. I no longer owe you anything. I have repaid you; -therefore I am no longer under any necessity to be grateful. You cannot -deny that.”</p> - -<p>“I would not if I could.”</p> - -<p>“Then, don’t you see? Without indebtedness between us, no longer under -any obligation to you, I have given you my forgiveness freely, frankly, -and fully. Your offence, after all, was not really against me....”</p> - -<p>“It was, it was,” he interrupted fiercely. “It was against you inasmuch -as it was against my own honour. It made me unworthy.”</p> - -<p>“Even so, you had my complete forgiveness from the moment that I came -to know how cruelly you had been driven. Indeed, I think that I forgave -you earlier, much earlier. My heart told me—my senses told me when you -attempted to rescue me from the Duke of Buckingham—that some such tale -of misfortune must lie behind your deed.”</p> - -<p>A little flush came to stain the pallor which his illness had left upon -his cheeks. He bowed his head.</p> - -<p>“I bless you for those words. They will give me courage to face ... -whatever may await me. I shall treasure the memory of them, and of your -sweetness always.”</p> - -<p>“But still you do not believe me!” she cried out. “Still you think -that behind it all there are some dregs of ... of ... resentment in my -heart!”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Nan. I believe you.”</p> - -<p>“And yet you will persist in going?”</p> - -<p>“What else? You who know all now must see that there is no place for me -in England.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was a ready answer leaping to her lips. But she could not utter -it. At least, not yet. So again she hung her head, and again there -fell a pause, in which she was desperately seeking for another line of -attack upon his obstinately proud humility. Arguments to reason failing -her, she availed herself of an argument to sentiment. She drew from the -bodice of her gown a rubbed and faded tasselled glove. She held it out -to him, looking up at him, and he saw that her eyes were wet.</p> - -<p>“Here is something that belongs to you, at least. Take it, Randal. Take -it, since it is all that you will have of me.”</p> - -<p>Almost in hesitancy he took that little glove, still warm and fragrant -from sweet contact with her, and retained also the hand that proffered -it.</p> - -<p>“It ... it shall again be a talisman,” he said softly, “to keep me -worthy as ... as it did not keep me once.” Then he bowed over the hand -he held, and pressed it to his lips. “Good-bye, and God guard you ever, -Nan.”</p> - -<p>He would have disengaged his hand, but she clutched it firmly now.</p> - -<p>“Randal!” she cried sharply, desperately driven to woo this man who -would not woo her despite her clear invitation. In gentle, sorrowing -rebuke she added: “Can you, then, really think of leaving me again?”</p> - -<p>His face assumed the pallor of death, and his limbs trembled under him.</p> - -<p>“What else is possible?” he asked her miserably.</p> - -<p>“That is a question you had best answer for yourself.”</p> - -<p>“What answer can I supply?” He looked at her, almost fearfully, with -those grey eyes that were normally so steady and could be so hard and -arrogant. He moistened his lips before resuming. “Should I allow you to -gather up these poor shards of my broken life with the hands of pity?”</p> - -<p>“Pity?” she cried in repudiation. Then, shaking her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> head a little; -“And what if it were so?” she asked. “What then? Oh, Randal, if I have -pity for you, have you then none for me?”</p> - -<p>“Pity for you! I thank God you do not stand in need of pity.”</p> - -<p>“Do I not? What else but pitiful can you account my state? I have -waited years, with what patience and fortitude I could command, for one -to whom I deemed myself to belong, and when at last he arrived, it is -only to reject me.”</p> - -<p>He laughed at that, but without any trace of mirth.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” he said. “I am not so easily deceived by your charitable -pretence. Confess that out of your pity you but act a part.”</p> - -<p>“I see. You think that, having been an actress once, I must be acting -ever. Will you believe me, I wonder, when I swear to you that, in all -those years of weary waiting, I withstood every temptation that besets -my kind, keeping myself spotless against your coming? Will you believe -that? And if you believe it, will you cheat me now?”</p> - -<p>“Believe it! O God! If I did not, perhaps I could now yield more -easily. The gulf between us would be less wide.”</p> - -<p>“There is no gulf between us, Randal. It has been bridged and bridged -again.”</p> - -<p>He disengaged his hand from her clasp at last. “Oh, why do you try me, -Nan?” he cried out, like a man in pain. “God knows you cannot need me. -What have I to offer—I that am as bankrupt of fortune as of honour?”</p> - -<p>“Do women love men for what they bring?” she asked him. “Is that the -lesson a mercenary’s life has taught you? Oh, Randal, you spoke of -Chance and how it had directed all your life, and yet it seems you have -not learnt to read its signs. A world lay between us in which we were -lost to each other. Yet Chance brought us together again, and if the -way of it was evil, yet it was the way of Chance. Again we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> strayed -apart. You went from me driven by shame and wounded pride—yes, pride, -Randal—intending the separation to be irrevocable. And again we have -come together. Will you weary Chance by demanding that it perform this -miracle for a third time?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her steadily now, a man redeemed, driven back into the -hard ways of honour by the scourge of all that had befallen him.</p> - -<p>“If I have been Chance’s victim all my life, that is no reason why I -should help you to be no better. For you there is the great world, -there is your art, there is life and joy when this pestilence shall -have spent itself. I have nothing to offer you in exchange for all -that. Nothing, Nan. My whole estate is just these poor clothes I stand -in. If it were otherwise.... Oh, but why waste words and torturing -thought on what might be. We have to face what is. Good-bye!”</p> - -<p>Abruptly he swung on his heel, and left her, so abruptly, indeed, that -his departure took her by surprise, found her without a word in which -to stay him. As in a dream she watched the tall, spare, soldierly -figure swinging away through the trees towards the avenue. Then at last -she half rose and a little fluttering cry escaped her.</p> - -<p>“Randal! Randal!”</p> - -<p>But already he was too far to hear her even if, had he heard, he would -have heeded.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">JESTING FORTUNE</span></h2> - -<p>Jesting Fortune had not yet done with Colonel Holles.</p> - -<p>A month later, towards the middle of September, without having seen -Nancy again—since that, of course, would have been denied him, as -it would have nullified his sequestration from infected persons and -surroundings—he found himself at liberty to return to the ordinary -haunts of man, supplied with a certificate of health.</p> - -<p>He had been considering, in the few days preceding his discharge, -whither he should direct his steps once he were made free of the world -again, and he had returned to that earlier resolve of his to embark as -a hand aboard some vessel bound for France. But a vessel must be found -quickly, for Holles was utterly penniless. He possessed, as he had -reminded Nancy, nothing but the comparatively cheap garments in which -he stood. He might have obtained a few shillings from the pest-house -authorities, but his gorge rose at the thought of seeking charity, -particularly where it would better become him to bestow it, out of -consideration for the benefits received.</p> - -<p>So within an hour of his discharge he found himself tramping along the -empty streets of the City, bound for distant Wapping. He must go afoot, -not only because he lacked the means to go otherwise, but because there -were no longer any boats plying for hire at any of the steps along the -river, nor any hackney-coaches remaining in the streets. More than ever -was London become a city of the dead.</p> - -<p>He trudged on, and everywhere now he beheld great fires of sea-coal -burning in the streets, a sight that puzzled him at first, until a -chance wayfarer informed him that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> was done by order of the Lord -Mayor and with the approval of His Grace of Albemarle as a means of -purifying the tainted air. Yet, although these fires had been burning -now for a week, there was no sign yet that they had any such effect as -was desired. Indeed, the bill of mortality in that week had been higher -than ever before, having risen—as that same wayfarer informed him—to -the colossal figure of eight thousand. The marvel was, thought Holles, -that any should still be left to die in London.</p> - -<p>On through that desolate emptiness he tramped in the noontide heat, -which still continued as intense as through the months that were -past of that exceptional summer, until he came to the Fleet Ditch. -Here it was that he bethought him of The Harp in Wood Street where -he had lodged, and of its landlord, the friendly Banks, who at some -risk to himself had warned him that the messengers of the law were on -his heels. It was his utter destitution that now shaped his destiny. -But for that, he might not have remembered that in his precipitate -departure from that hostelry he had left some gear behind including -a fine suit of clothes. He could have no personal use for such brave -raiment now. The homespun in which he stood was better suited far to -one who sought work as a hand aboard a ship. But, if he could recover -that abandoned gear, it was possible that he might be able to convert -it into a modest sum of money to relieve his present necessities. He -laughed a little over the notion of Fortune being so kind to him as to -permit him to find The Harp still open or Banks alive.</p> - -<p>Still, forlorn hope though it might be, forlorn hopes were the only -hopes that remained him. So in the direction of Wood Street he now -turned his steps.</p> - -<p>He found it much as other streets. Not more than one shop in four -was standing open, and trade in these was idle and stagnant. -Proctor’s famous ordinary at the sign of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> The Mitre—the most reputed -eating-house in London—was closed and shuttered. He regarded this as -an evil omen. But he passed on, and came presently to stand before the -more modest Harp. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw its -windows clean and open, its door flung wide.</p> - -<p>He crossed the threshold, and turned into the common room on his left. -The room was clean-swept, its long deal tables were well scoured; but -trade was slack, for the place contained a single occupant, a man in -an apron who started up from a wooden armchair in which he had been -dozing, with an ejaculation of:</p> - -<p>“As God’s my life, a customer!”</p> - -<p>Holles stared at him and the man stared back at Holles. It was Banks, -the vintner himself. But a Banks whose paunch had shrunk, whose -erstwhile ruddy cheeks had lost their glow and fullness.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Holles!” he cried. “Or is it your ghost, sir? There’s more -ghosts than living men in this stricken city.”</p> - -<p>“We are both ghosts, I think, Banks,” the Colonel answered him.</p> - -<p>“Maybe, but our gullets ain’t ghostly, praise the Lord! And there’s -still some sack left at The Harp. It’s the greatest of all electuaries -is sack, as Dr. Hodges has it. Sack with plenty of nutmeg, says he, and -avoid sweating. And that’s how I’ve kept myself alive. Shall we have a -bottle of the medicine, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“I’d say yes, with all my heart. But—lackaday!—I’ve not the means to -pay for the sack.”</p> - -<p>“Pay?” The vintner made a lip. “Sit ye down, Colonel.”</p> - -<p>Banks fetched the wine, and poured it.</p> - -<p>“A plague on the plague, is the toast,” said he, and they drank it. -“’Slife, Colonel, but I am glad to see you alive. I feared the worst -for you. Yet you’ve contrived to keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> yourself safe, avoiding not only -the plague, but them pestilential fellows that was after you.” Without -waiting for a reply, he dropped his voice to add: “Ye’ll have heard how -Danvers was took, and how he broke away and won free—good luck to him! -But all that is a dream by now, that conspiracy business, and no one -bothers much about it. Not even the government. There’s other things to -engage them, and not much government left neither. But of yourself now, -Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“My tale’s soon told. I’ve not fared quite as well as you suppose. I’ve -had the plague.”</p> - -<p>“The devil you have. And ye’ve won through!” Banks regarded him with a -new respect. “Well, ye were born lucky, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You give me news,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t many escapes,” the vintner assured him ruefully. “And you -having had the pestilence makes you a safe man. Ye can come and go as -ye please without uneasiness.”</p> - -<p>“And your sack as an electuary is wasted on me. But if I’m safe I’m -also penniless, which is what has brought me here: to see if some gear -of mine is still in your possession that I may melt it into shillings.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, I have it all safe,” Banks assured him. “A brave suit, with -boots and a hat, a baldric, and some other odds and ends. They’re -above-stairs, waiting for you when you please. But what may you be -thinking of doing, Colonel, if I may make so bold as to ask?”</p> - -<p>Holles told him of his notion of sailing as a hand aboard a vessel -bound for France.</p> - -<p>The vintner pursed his lips and sadly shook his head, regarding his -guest the while from under bent brows.</p> - -<p>“Why, sir,” he said, “there’s no French shipping and no ships bound for -France at Wapping, and mighty few ships of any kind. The plague has -put an end to all that. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> port of London is as empty as Proctor’s -yonder. There’s not a foreign ship’ll put into it, nor an English one -go out of it, for she wouldn’t be given harbour anywhere for fear of -the infection.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel’s face lengthened in dismay. This, he thought, was the last -blow of his malignant Fortune.</p> - -<p>“I shall have to go to Portsmouth, then,” he announced gloomily. “God -knows how I shall get there.”</p> - -<p>“Ye never will. For Portsmouth won’t have ye, nor any other town in -England neither, coming as ye do from London. I tell you, sir, the -country’s all crazed with fear of the plague.”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve a certificate of health.”</p> - -<p>“Ye’d need to have it backed by a minister of state or ever Portsmouth -would let you inside her gates.”</p> - -<p>Holles looked at him blankly for a moment, then expressed his -bitterness in a laugh.</p> - -<p>“In that case I don’t know what remains. Ye don’t need a drawer these -days, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>The vintner was frowning thoughtfully, considering the first of those -two questions.</p> - -<p>“Why, ye say ye’re a safe man. Ye’ll not have seen His Grace of -Albemarle’s proclamation asking for safe men?”</p> - -<p>“Asking for safe men? To what end?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, the proclamation don’t say. Ye’ll find that out in Whitehall, -maybe. But there’s a service of some kind his grace has to offer to -them as is safe. Things being like this with you, now, ye might think -it worth while to ask. It might be something for ye, for the present at -least.”</p> - -<p>“It might,” said Holles. “And, apparently, it’s that or nothing. He’ll -be needing scavengers, likely, or drivers for the dead-cart.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, it’ll be something better than that,” said Banks, taking him -literally. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<p>Holles rose. “Whatever it may be, when a man is faced with starvation -he had best realize that pride won’t fill an empty belly.”</p> - -<p>“No more it will,” Banks agreed, eyeing the Colonel’s uncouth garments. -“But if ye’re thinking of paying a visit to Whitehall ye’d be wise to -put on that other suit that’s above-stairs. Ye’ll never get past the -lackeys in that livery.”</p> - -<p>So you see issuing presently from the sign of The Harp a Colonel Holles -very different from the Colonel Holles who had entered it an hour -earlier. In a dark blue suit of camlet enlivened by a little gold lace, -black Spanish boots, and a black beaver set off by a heavy plume of -royal blue, without a sword, it is true, but swinging a long cane, he -presented a figure rarely seen just then in London streets. Perhaps -because of that his appearance at the Cockpit made the few remaining -and more or less idle ushers bestir themselves to announce him.</p> - -<p>He waited but a moment in the empty anteroom where three months ago he -had overheard Mr. Pepys of the Navy Office proclaiming England’s need -of practised soldiers. The usher who went to announce him returned -almost at once to conduct him into that pleasant chamber overlooking -the park where His Grace of Albemarle acted to-day as deputy for the -pleasure-loving libertine prince who had forsaken his stricken capital.</p> - -<p>The Duke heaved himself up as the Colonel entered.</p> - -<p>“So you’re come at last, Randal!” was his astounding greeting. “On my -life, you’ve taken your own time in answering my letter. I concluded -long since that the plague had carried you off.”</p> - -<p>“Your letter?” said Holles. And he stared blankly at the Duke, as he -clasped the proffered hand.</p> - -<p>“My letter, yes. You had it? The letter that I sent you nigh upon a -month ago to the Paul’s Head?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nay,” said Holles. “I had no letter.”</p> - -<p>“But....” Albemarle looked almost as if he did not believe him. “The -landlady there kept it for you. She said, I think, that you were absent -at the time, but would be back in a day or two, and that you should -have the letter at once on your return.”</p> - -<p>“A month ago, do you say? But it is two months and more since I left -the Paul’s Head!”</p> - -<p>“What do you tell me? Ah, wait. My messenger shall speak for himself on -this.” And he strode away to the bell-rope.</p> - -<p>But Holles checked him.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay,” he cried with a wry smile. “There’s not the need. I think I -understand. Mrs. Quinn has been riding her malice on a loose rein. Your -messenger would, no doubt, announce whence he came, and Mrs. Quinn, -fearing that the news might be to my advantage, acted so as to prevent -his making further search for me. Evidently the plague has spared that -plaguy woman.”</p> - -<p>“What’s this?” The Duke’s heavy face empurpled. “Do you charge her with -suppressing a communication from an office of state? By Heaven, if -she’s still alive I’ll have her gaoled for it.”</p> - -<p>“Let be,” said Holles, seizing him by the arm. “Devil take the woman! -Tell me of the letter. Ye’ll never mean that you had found employment -for me, after all?”</p> - -<p>“You seem incredulous, Randal? Did you doubt my zeal for you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not your zeal. But the possibility of your helping one who was in -my case.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye. But as to that, why, Buckingham improved it when he stood -surety for your loyalty before the Justices. I heard of that. And when -the chance came, the chance of this Bombay command that already I had -earlier intended for you....” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The Bombay command?” Holles began to wonder did he dream. “But I -thought that it had been required by Buckingham for a friend of his -own.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Henry Stanhope, yes. So it had, and Stanhope sailed for the Indies -with the commission. But it seems that when he did so he already -carried the seeds of the plague within him. For he died of it on the -voyage. It was a Providence that he did, poor devil; for he was no more -fitted for the command than to be Archbishop of Canterbury. I wrote -to you at once asking you to seek me here, and I waited a fortnight -to hear from you. As you made no sign, I concluded that either you -were stricken with the plague, or no longer desired the office, and I -proceeded to appoint another gentleman of promise.”</p> - -<p>Holles folded the pinions of his soaring hopes and let himself fall -back into his despondency. He uttered a groan.</p> - -<p>“But that’s not the end,” Albemarle checked him. “No sooner had I -appointed this other than he, too, fell sick of the plague, and died a -week ago. I have already found another suitable man—no easy matter in -these days—and I had resolved to appoint him to-morrow to the vacant -office. But, if ye’re not afraid that the plague is bound up with this -commission, it’s at your disposal, and it shall be made out to you at -once.”</p> - -<p>Holles was gasping for breath. “You ... you mean that ... that I am to -have the command, after all!” It was incredible. He dared not believe -it.</p> - -<p>“That is what I have said. The commission is ...” Albemarle broke off -suddenly, and fell back before him. “What ails you man? You’re white -as a ghost. Ye’re not ill?” And he lugged out a handkerchief that -flung a reek of myrrh and ginger on the air, leaving Holles no single -doubt of the thing his grace was fearing. Albemarle imagined that the -plague<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> which, as he had said, seemed bound up with this commission, -was already besetting the man upon whom he now proposed to bestow it. -The humour of it took Holles sharply, and his laugh rang out further to -startle the Duke.</p> - -<p>“There’s no need for electuaries against me,” he assured his grace. “I -am certified in health and carry no infection. I left Bunhill Fields -this morning.”</p> - -<p>“What?” Albemarle was astounded. “D’ye mean ye’ve had the plague?”</p> - -<p>“That is the whole reason of my being here. I am a safe man now. And I -came in answer to your proclamation asking for safe men.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle continued to stare at him in deepening amazement.</p> - -<p>“So that is what brought you?” he said at last, when full understanding -came to him.</p> - -<p>“But for that I certainly should never have come.”</p> - -<p>“Gad!” said Albemarle, and he repeated the ejaculation with a laugh, -for he found the situation curious enough to be amusing. “Gad! The ways -of Chance!”</p> - -<p>“Chance!” echoed Holles, suddenly very sober, realizing how this -sudden, unexpected turn of Fortune’s wheel had changed the whole -complexion of his life. “Almost it seems that Chance has stood my -friend at last, though it has waited until I had touched the very -bottom of misfortune. But for your proclamation, and but for Mrs. -Quinn, too, I should have been Fortune’s fool again over the matter of -this commission. It would have been here waiting for me, and I should -never have known. The very malice by which Mrs. Quinn sought to do me -disservice has turned to my benefit. For had she told your messenger -the truth—that I had vanished and that she had no knowledge of my -whereabouts—you would never have traced me just then, and you would -never have waited that fortnight. Thus all might have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> changed.” -He paused, lost in a wonder that Albemarle did not share.</p> - -<p>“Maybe, maybe,” said his grace briskly. “But what matters now is -that you are here, and that the command is yours if you still wish -it. There is not even the fear of the plague to deter you, since you -are a safe man now. It is an important office, as I told you, and so -that you discharge its duties, as I know you will, it may prove but a -stepping-stone to greater things. What do you say?”</p> - -<p>“Say?” cried Holles, his cheeks flushed, his grey eyes gleaming. “Why, -I give you thanks with all my heart.”</p> - -<p>“Then you accept it. Good! For I believe you to be the very man for the -office.” Albemarle stepped to his writing-table, selected from among -some documents a parchment bearing a heavy seal, sat down, took up a -pen, and wrote briskly for a few seconds. He dusted the writing with -pounce, and proffered the document. “Here, then, is your commission. -How soon can you sail?”</p> - -<p>“In a month,” said Holles promptly.</p> - -<p>“A month!” Albemarle was taken aback. He frowned. “Why, man, you should -be ready in a week.”</p> - -<p>“Myself, I could be ready in a day. But I mean to take this new-found -tide of fortune at the flood, and....”</p> - -<p>But Albemarle interrupted him impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you realize, man, the time that has been already lost? For four -months now this office has stood vacant.”</p> - -<p>“Which means that there’s a very competent lieutenant in charge. Let -him continue yet awhile. Once I am there, I’ll speedily make up for -lost time. That I can promise you. You see, it may be that I shall have -a companion, who cannot possibly be ready in less than a month.”</p> - -<p>With an odd, reckless trust in the continuance of Fortune’s favour now, -he boldly added: “You have said that I am the very man for the office. -The government can wait a month,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> or you can appoint some one less -likely to serve it as efficiently.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle smiled at him grimly across the table. “Ye’re very full of -surprises to-day, Master Randal. And this one baffles me.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I explain it?”</p> - -<p>“It would be a condescension.”</p> - -<p>Holles poured out his tale, and Albemarle gave him a sympathetic -hearing. When he had done, the Duke sighed and turned aside before -replying, to examine the pages of a notebook at his elbow.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” he said at length, having consulted an entry. “The -<i>English Lass</i> is fitting at Portsmouth for the voyage, and should be -ready, I am informed, in two weeks from now. But there are ever delays -at present, and it is odds that in no case would she be ready in less -than three weeks. I’ll see to it that she is not ready under a month.”</p> - -<p>Impetuously the Colonel held out both hands to the Duke.</p> - -<p>“What a friend you are!” he cried.</p> - -<p>Albemarle wrung them hard. “You’re damnably like your father, God -rest him!” said he. Then, almost brusquely: “Away with you now, and -good-luck to you. I’ll not ask you to stay to see her grace at present, -since you’re pressed. You shall kiss her hands before you sail. Be off!”</p> - -<p>Holles took his leave. At the door he suddenly checked, and, turning, -displayed a rueful countenance.</p> - -<p>“Although I have the King’s commission in my pocket and hold an -important office in his service, I haven’t a shilling in the world,” he -said. “Not a shilling.”</p> - -<p>Albemarle responded instantly by producing a purse from which he -counted twenty pounds. There was no sign of parsimonious reluctance -about his offer now. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> - -<p>“As a loan, of course,” said Holles, gathering up the yellow coins.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” Albemarle corrected him. “An advance. Take no further thought -for it. The Treasury shall refund me the money at once.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span> <span class="smaller">THE MIRACLE</span></h2> - -<p>Away from Whitehall, where the ground was green with thriving grass, -went Colonel Holles at speed. He set his face towards Islington once -more, and swung along with great strides, carrying in his breast a -heart more blithe than he had known for many a year. Blind and deaf to -all about him, his mind sped ahead of his limbs to the goal for which -he made.</p> - -<p>Thus, until a sudden awful dread assailed him. Fortune had fooled and -cheated him so often that it was impossible he should long continue in -this new-born trust in her favour. It was, after all, four weeks since -he had seen Nancy, and those in that house of rest where he had spent -the period of his sequestration could tell him nothing of her since -they held no direct intercourse with those who had their being in the -pest-houses. In a month much may betide. Evil might have befallen her, -or she might have departed thence. To soothe the latter dread came the -recollection that any such departure would have been impossible until -she, too, had undergone the prescribed period of disinfection. But the -former dread was not so easily to be allayed. It would be so entirely -of a piece with all his history that, now that apparently he held the -earnest of Fortune in his hands, he should make the discovery that this -had reached him too late; that, even as she bestowed with the one hand, -so with the other did Fortune rob him.</p> - -<p>You conceive, then, the dread anxiety in which he came, breathless, -hot, and weary from the speed he had made, to the open fields and at -last to the stout, spiked gates of that pleasant homestead that had -been put to the uses of a lazaret. Here a stern and surly guardian -denied him passage. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You cannot enter, sir. What do you seek?”</p> - -<p>“Happiness, my friend,” said the Colonel, completing the other’s -conviction that he was mad. But mad or sane there was a masterful air -about him now. He bristled with the old amiable arrogance that of late -had been overlaid by despondency and lassitude of soul. And his demand -that the gate should be unbarred for him held an authority that was not -lightly to be denied.</p> - -<p>“You understand, sir,” the gatekeeper asked him, “that, once you enter -here, you may not go back whence you come for twenty-eight days, at -least?”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said Holles, “and I come prepared to pay the price. So, -in God’s name, open, friend.”</p> - -<p>The gatekeeper shrugged. “Ye’re warned,” he said, and raised the bar, -thus removing, as he thought, all obstacles that kept a fool from his -folly.</p> - -<p>Colonel Holles entered. The gates clashed behind him, and he took his -way briskly, almost at a run, down the long avenue in the dappled shade -of the beech trees and elms that bordered it, making straight for the -nearest of the red-brick outhouses, which was the one which he himself -had occupied during his sickness.</p> - -<p>A broadly built, elderly woman perceived his approach from the doorway, -and, after staring at him a moment in surprise and consternation, -started forward to meet him, calling to him to stand. But he came on -heedless and breathless until they were face to face.</p> - -<p>“How came you in, you foolish man?” she cried.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know me, Mrs. Barlow?” he asked her.</p> - -<p>Startled anew by that pleasant, familiar address, she stared at -him again. And then, under the finery and vigour investing him and -rendering him almost unrecognizable to eyes that remembered only the -haggard, meanly clad fellow of a month ago, she discovered him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Save us! It’s Colonel Holles!” And almost without pause she went on -in a voice of distress: “But you were to have left the house of rest -to-day. Whatever can have brought you back here to undo all again.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, not to undo. To do, Mrs. Barlow, by God’s help. But ye’ve a -singular good memory, to remember that I should be leaving to-day!”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, and smiled with a touch of sadness. “’Twasn’t me -that remembered, sir. It was Miss Sylvester.” And again she shook her -head.</p> - -<p>“She’s here, then! Ha! She is well?”</p> - -<p>“Well enough, poor dear. But oh, so mortal sad. She’s yonder, resting, -under the cedars—a place she’s haunted this past month.”</p> - -<p>He swung aside, and, without more than a hurriedly flung word of thanks -or excuse, he was gone swiftly across the lawn, towards that cluster of -cedars, amid whose gnarled old trunks he could discern the flutter of a -grey gown.</p> - -<p>She had haunted the spot this month past, Mrs. Barlow had said. And it -was the spot where they had spoken their farewells. Ah, surely Fortune -would not trick him this time! Not again, surely, would she dash away -the cup from his very lips, as so often she had done!</p> - -<p>As he drew nearer over the soft, yielding turf that deadened all sound -of his steps, he saw her sitting on that stone seat where a month ago -he had left her in the conviction that he was never to behold her again -with the eyes of the flesh. Her shoulders were turned towards him, but -even so he perceived in her attitude something of the listlessness -by which she was possessed. He paused, his pulses throbbing, paused -instinctively, fearing now to startle her, as startle her he must, -however he approached.</p> - -<p>He stood arrested there, breathless, at a loss. And then as if she -sensed his presence, she slowly turned and looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> behind her. A long -while she stared, startled, white-faced.</p> - -<p>“Randal!” She was on her feet, confronting him.</p> - -<p>He plunged forward.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Randal, why have you come here? You should have gone to-day....”</p> - -<p>“I went, and I have returned, Nan,” he told her, standing there beside -her now.</p> - -<p>“You have returned!” She looked him over more attentively now, and -observed the brave suit of dark blue camlet that so well became his -tall, spare frame, and the fine Spanish boots that were now overlaid -with dust. “You have returned!” she said again.</p> - -<p>“Nan,” he said, “a miracle has happened.” And from his breast he pulled -that parchment with its great seal. “A month ago I was a beggar. To-day -I am Colonel Holles in something more than name, commanding something -more than a mere regiment. I have come back, Nan, because at last I -can offer you something in exchange for all that you will sacrifice in -taking me.”</p> - -<p>She sank down slowly, weakly, to the seat, he standing over her, until -they were in the same attitude of a month ago. But how different now -was all else! She leaned her elbows on her knees a moment, pressing her -hands to her throbbing temples.</p> - -<p>“It is real, this? It ... it is true? True?” she asked aloud, though -clearly not of him. And then she sat back again, and looked up into his -face.</p> - -<p>“It is not very much, perhaps, when all is said, though it seems much -to me to-day, and with you beside me I shall know how to make it more. -Still, such as it is, I offer it.” And he tossed the parchment down -into her lap.</p> - -<p>She looked at the white cylinder without touching it, and then at him -again, and a little smile crept about the corners of her sweet mouth, -and trembled there. Into her mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> there leapt the memory of the big -boast of conquest for her sake with which he had set out in the long -ago.</p> - -<p>“Is this the world you promised me, Randal?” she asked him. And his -heart bounded at the old rallying note, which laid his last doubt to -rest.</p> - -<p>“As much of it as I can contrive to get,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Then it will be enough for me,” she answered. And there was no -raillery in her voice now, only an infinite tenderness. She rose, and, -standing there close before him, held out the parchment still unfolded.</p> - -<p>“But you haven’t looked,” he protested.</p> - -<p>“What need to look? It is your kingdom, you have told me. And I’ll -share your kingdom whatever it may be.”</p> - -<p>“It is situate in the Indies ... in Bombay,” said he, with a certain -diffidence.</p> - -<p>She considered.</p> - -<p>“I always had a thirst for travel,” she said deliberately.</p> - -<p>He felt that it was due to her that he should explain the nature -of this appointment and how he came by it. To that explanation he -proceeded. Before he had reached the end she was in tears.</p> - -<p>“Why? Why? What now?” he cried in dismay. “Does your heart misgive you?”</p> - -<p>“Misgive me? Oh, Randal! How can you think that? I weep for -thankfulness. I have spent a month of such hopeless anguish, and -now....”</p> - -<p>He put an arm about her shoulder, and drew her head down on to his -breast. “My dear,” he murmured. He sighed, and held her thus in a -silence that was like a prayer, until, at length, she raised her face.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Randal, that it is more years than I care to think of -since last you kissed me, and then you vexed me by stealing what is now -yours to take.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was a little awed. But, after all, with all his faults, he was never -one to yield to fear.</p> - -<p>They were married on the morrow, and their honeymoon was spent in -that sequestration that the law exacted. Certified clear of infection -at last, they were permitted to go forth to garner the honours that -Fortune had stored up for Randal Holles to make amends for all that he -had earlier suffered at her hands.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTUNE'S FOOL ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/65939-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/65939-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bc53be7..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65939-h/images/front.jpg b/old/65939-h/images/front.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7653684..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h/images/front.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65939-h/images/logo.jpg b/old/65939-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d27b41a..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h/images/logo.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65939-h/images/title.jpg b/old/65939-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cb122f5..0000000 --- a/old/65939-h/images/title.jpg +++ /dev/null |
