Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall

by Charles Major

"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she says," returned Sir George.

He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the morning, and for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention he called in Joe the butcher and told him to make all things ready for the execution.

I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture, knowing it would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of his reach long ere the cock would crow his first greeting to the morrow's sun.

After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants helped him to bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon together with the keys to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon Hall, as was his custom. The keys were in a bunch, held together by an iron ring, and Sir George always kept them under his pillow at night.

I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to rest and wait. The window of my room was open.

Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The doleful sound came up to me from the direction of the stone footbridge at the southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I went to my window and looked out over the courts and terrace. Haddon Hall and all things in and about it were wrapped in slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard the hooting of the owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone steps to an unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon the roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with bared feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which at the lowest point were not more than twenty feet from the ground. Thence I clambered down to a window cornice five or six feet lower, and jumped, at the risk of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to the soft sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under Aunt Dorothy's window, and whistled softly. The window casing opened and I heard the great bunch of keys jingling and clinking against the stone wall as Aunt Dorothy paid them out to me by means of a cord. After I had secured the keys I called in a whisper to Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the cord hanging from the window. I also told her to remain in readiness to draw up the keys when they should have served their purpose. Then I took them and ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who had come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton. Two of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the southwest postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and made our entrance into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my life engaged in many questionable and dangerous enterprises, but this was my first attempt at house-breaking. To say that I was nervous would but poorly define the state of my feelings. Since that day I have respected the high calling of burglary and regard with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I was frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men, trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence and the darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very chairs and tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest they should awaken. I cannot describe to you how I was affected. Whether it was fear or awe or a smiting conscience I cannot say, but my teeth chattered as if they were in the mouth of a fool, and my knees quaked as if they supported a coward. Still I knew I was doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites him when his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more dangerous to possess a sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear reason than to have none at all. But I will make short my account of that night's doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon and carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys to the cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to my room again, feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had done the best act of my life.

Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper court. When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was half dressed and was angrily questioning the servants and retainers. I knew that he had discovered John's escape, but I did not know all, nor did I know the worst. I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I bathed my hands and face. There I learned that the keys to the hall had been stolen from under Sir George's pillow, and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon. Old Bess, the cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words, "Good for Mistress Doll."

Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the thought that Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in sympathy with Dorothy, and I said:—

"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs, she should be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it at all. My opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some person interested in Tom-Tom's escape."

"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the mistress and not the servant who stole the keys and liberated Tom-Tom. But the question is, who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants' hall is full of it. We are not uncertain as to the manner of his escape. Some of the servants do say that the Earl of Leicester be now visiting the Duke of Devonshire; and some also do say that his Lordship be fond of disguises in his gallantry. They do also say that the queen is in love with him, and that he must disguise himself when he woos elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be a pretty mess the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to be my lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."