CHAPTER XXVIII
THE MAJOR COMES TO A RESOLUTION
Colonel Lord George Cleeve sat perched astride a chair on the desk in the corner and watched where the Major and Sergeant Zebedee fronted each other for their wonted morning's fencing-bout:
"You'll find me a little sluggish as 'twere after last night, Zeb," said the Major, taking his ground.
"Why there have been other nights, sir, and I never found you so yet," answered the Sergeant, as, returning the Major's salute, he came to his guard, and, with a tinkle and clash of steel, they engaged, the Major, light-poised and graceful, the Sergeant balanced upon stockinged feet, cunning, swift and throbbing with vigorous strength. Now as their play became closer it seemed that the weapons were part of themselves, this darting, twining steel seemed instinct with life and foreknowledge as lightning thrust was met by lightning parry; while the Colonel, craning forward in his chair, cursed rapturously under his breath, snorted and wriggled ecstatic. It was a long, close rally ending in a sudden grinding flurry of pliant blades followed by a swift and deadly lunge from the Sergeant met by an almost miraculous riposte, and he stepped back to shake his head and smile; while the Colonel slapped his thigh and roared for pure joy of it.
"Sir," said the Sergeant, "'tis me is sluggish it seems! Clean through my sword-arm!"
"Faith, Zeb, I saw it coming in time."
"Joy!" cried the Colonel, sprinkling himself copiously with snuff, "O man Jack 'tis a delight t' the eye, a balm t' the soul, a comfort t' the heart! Rabbit me, Jack, Sergeant Zeb is improved out o' knowledge."
"Aye, George, Zeb is an apt pupil. Come again, Sergeant."
At this moment the door opened and the Viscount lounged in, but seeing what was toward, seated himself on a corner of the desk as the foils rang together again. Before the next venue was decided the Colonel was on his legs with excitement and the Viscount's languor was forgotten quite, for, despite their buttoned foils, they fought with a grim yet joyous ferocity, as if death itself had hung upon the issue. Their blades whirled and clashed, or grinding lightly together seemed to feel out and sense each other's attack; followed cunning feints, vicious thrust or lunge and dexterous parry until, at last, the Major stepped back and lowered his point:
"'Tis your hit, Zeb—here on my wrist!"
"Why 'twas scarce a hit, your honour."
"Most palpable, Zeb!"
"Gad love me!" murmured the Viscount, "and they don't sweat and they ain't panting!"
"Music!" snorted the Colonel, bestriding his chair again, "poetry, pictures—bah! Here you have 'em all together! A fine 'ooman's a graceful sight I'll allow, but sirs, for beauty and music, poetry and grace all in one, give me a couple o' well-matched small-sworders!"
"Parfectly, sir!" bowed the Viscount. "Though, nunky, if I may venture the remark and with all the deference in the world, your play is perhaps a trifle austere—lacking those small elegancies and delicate refinements——"
The Colonel rolled truculent eye and sprinkled himself with snuff again.
"Master Tom sir—Pancras my lud," said the Sergeant, "I were thinking p'r'aps you'd play this third venue with his honour?"
"Gad, nunky, 'twould be a joy," murmured the Viscount. So saying he took the Sergeant's foil. "You'll mind sir, how you disarmed me last time——"
"'Twas but a trick, Tom, and you were all unsuspecting."
"At least, sir, this time I shall play more cautious." And the Viscount saluted and fell to his guard, one white hand fanning the air daintily aloft. The foils crossed and, as the bout progressed, the Viscount's self-assurance grew, he even pressed the Major repeatedly and twice forced him to break ground; time and again his point missed by inches while the Sergeant watched between a smile and a frown and the Colonel wriggled on his chair again:
"Faith!" cried he, as the foils were lowered by common consent. "The lad hath a wrist, Jack, and a quick eye for distance—he should make a fencer one o' these days—with pains——"
"Gad so, sir!" exclaimed the Viscount, a little huffed, "I rejoice to know it!"
"And though his point wavers out o' the line like a straw i' the wind and his parade is curst inviting and open, still——"
"Let me perish, what d'ye mean, my lord?"
"Come again, Tom and I'll show you!" said the Major.
"Those are fairly large buttons on your waistcoat. I'll take the top four. On guard, Tom!"
Again the foils met and almost immediately the Major's blade leapt and the Sergeant counted "One—two!" The Viscount broke ground, then lunged in turn and the Sergeant counted again, "Three—four!" The Viscount stepped back, pitched his foil into a corner and stared at the Major in rueful amaze, whereupon Lord Cleeve laughed, and, clambering from the table, clapped him on the shoulder:
"Never be discouraged, Viscount," said he, "never be peevish, sir, in your place I should ha' fared little better. Few may cope with d'Arcy o' the Buffs—or Sergeant Zebedee for that matter!"
"Gad love me sir," answered the Viscount smiling, "'twould seem so."
"And now, man Jack, I'm for Sevenoaks on small matter o' business, moreover 'tis like my lady Carlyon will be thereabouts and young Marchdale promised to make me known to 'Our Admirable Betty.' Will ye ride with me, Jack?"
"Why thank'ee George, no—there's my chapter on the Defects of Salient Angles d'ye see, for one thing——"
"Devil burn your salient angles!"
"But here's Tom now. Tom might join you," suggested the Major with a meaning glance at his nephew.
"'Twould be a joy, sir!" murmured the Viscount dutifully.
"Why then I'll go get into my boots," nodded the Colonel and strode from the room.
"Nunky," said the Viscount, rearranging his cravat before the mirror with scrupulous care, "there are soldiers at Sevenoaks and the man they seek lieth hid—next door, if I mistake not!"
"Art sure, Pancras?"
"I spoke with Charles himself a while since, and my lady Belinda saw the soldiers to-day. Question, what's to do, sir?"
"'Tis a problem, nephew, and one requiring a nice judgment. Let me think! Sergeant, I'll thank you for my Ramillie coat. And she hath him hid?" enquired the Major, getting into the garment in question.
"Under lock and key, nunky. Charles would have been away ere this for her sake, but she'd locked him in. You see he is still scarce recovered of his wound and hardships, and Betty is determined to keep him till he be quite strong again."
"To be sure!" nodded the Major, fingering the tarnished buttons of his old campaigning coat. "And she locked him in—'twas like her! As for the soldiers, Tom, having traced him so far, they will be here next 'tis sure and her house will be searched first, of course."
"Gad sir!" exclaimed the Viscount, striding to and fro in sudden perturbation. "You take it devilish calm and serene! If they search there they'll find him beyond doubt——"
"Not so, Tom, I'll see to that."
"You sir—how?"
"He shall come here."
"Here nunky—here in this house—with Colonel Cleeve your guest?"
"Precisely, Tom—I must hide him under old George's honest nose. 'Tis irregular, as 'twere—aye, 'tis vastly irregular, and yet——" Here there rose a distant roaring, a hoarse and intermittent clamour.
"Gad love us!" exclaimed the Viscount, starting, "what's here?"
"'Tis only George roaring for thee, Tom."
"And the horses are at the door, my lud!" added the Sergeant, glancing from the window.
"So begone, Tom and——"
"No no, sir, I'll stay and aid you with——"
"Nay, look'ee Tom, you ride to Sevenoaks with George. You learn precisely when the soldiers march for Westerham and, if need be, you make your excuses and ride back to warn me of their coming. Your dapple-grey is the fastest thing on four legs and—ah, George—I do but stay my nephew to give him certain commissions and, as I was saying, his big dapple-grey is the fastest——"
"Ha—rot me, Viscount, we'll see that—we'll see that!" nodded the Colonel pulling on his gauntlets. "Now, if you're ready, sir?"
"Quite, my lord, quite!" smiled the Viscount, and, taking hat, gloves and whip from Sergeant Zebedee, he bowed and followed the Colonel out. Thereafter rose the clatter of their horse-hoofs which died rapidly away until they were lost altogether.
"Zeb," said the Major, sinking heavily into his chair and leaning head on hand, "Sergeant Zebedee, I go about to do a thing I never thought to do. We fought and bled for England and Queen Anne Zeb, you and I, and after for King William and then for King George, and now, it seems, I must forget my loyalty for the sake of a youth I've never seen, a Jacobite fugitive, Zeb, whose life is held forfeit—but, he is the brother of one—one I hold—very dear, Zeb. And for her sake I am about to be false to the oath I swore as an officer, I am about to give aid and shelter to an enemy of my king. This is a grief to me, Zeb, a great grief, since honour was very dear to me, but she—is dearer still! So shall I do this thing gladly—aye, even though it lose me all as well as honour—even life itself because 'tis for—her." Here the Major paused to sigh and the Sergeant finding nothing to say, saluted. "But as for you yourself, Zeb, all these long, hard years you've served faithfully and kept your record clean, and God forbid I should smirch it. So, Zebedee, you will take a week's leave—you will get you to London or——"
"Which, saving your presence, can't nowise be, your honour!" answered the Sergeant. "King George is very well and I say, God bless same. But then King George and me don't chance t' have fought for England together side by side, nor yet have saved each other's life, sir—very good! But, says I, in action or out, wheres'ever you've led I've folleyed most determined, and I'm too old to change my tactics, sir. So, your honour, I'm with you in this, in that, or in t'other, heretofore, now and hereafter, so be it, amen!" Having said which, the Sergeant saluted again and stood at ease.
"You risk your neck, Zeb!"
"I've risked every member I possess afore now, like your honour."
"I mean there is a danger that——"
"Dangers has been our daily meat and drink, sir, and perils our portion. Consequently if dangers and perils should threaten your honour 'tis only nat'ral I should share same, besides 'tis become a matter o' dooty wi' me, d'ye see, sir?"
"Zeb," said the Major, rising, "Zebedee—ha—Sergeant Tring, give me your hand! And now," he continued, as their hands gripped and fell apart, "bring me my hat and cane, Zeb, I'll to my lady." These being produced, the Major clapped on laced hat, took ebony cane in hand and crossed to the door; but there the Sergeant stayed him:
"Sir," said he in gentle remonstrance, "you'll never go in your old coat?
"And wherefore not, Zeb?"
"'Tis not in keeping wi' your brave new hat, your honour!"
"Maybe not, Zeb," sighed the Major, "but then 'tis in most excellent keeping with my—my limp, d'ye see. So let be, Zeb, let be!"
And so the Major went forth upon his errand and, being a little perturbed as to his possible reception, fell to planning himself a line of conduct for the forthcoming interview and forming stern resolutions that should govern him throughout. Thus, as he walked, head a-droop and deep-plunged in thought, his limp was rather more pronounced than usual.