MY LADY OF CLEEVE

“‘I give the lives of these gentlemen to you. Your secret is your own’”

[p. [180]]

MY LADY OF
CLEEVE

BY
PERCY J. HARTLEY

ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HARRISON FISHER
AND
HERMAN PFEIFER

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
1908

Copyright, 1908
By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
Published, January, 1908

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

MY LADY OF CLEEVE

CHAPTER I
OF HOW WE CAME TO CLEEVE

“Yonder is Cleeve!” said the sergeant.

I held up my hand and the troopers halted. The rain, which had been falling steadily since noon, had now ceased; and a watery gleam of sunshine bursting from the sullen stormclouds overhead lighted up the crest of the hill upon which we stood, and the well-wooded Cleeve valley below us, than which there is none more beautiful in all Devonshire. Behind us lay the barren surface of the torrs—mile upon mile of rock-strewn, wind-swept summits—thrusting their gaunt and rugged outlines high into the air in spurs as varied as they were fantastical. But at our feet the ground fell sharply away, covered with a wealth of golden gorse and bracken and scattered clumps of timber that grew ever thicker toward the bottom of the valley; yielding nevertheless the glimpse of a white road which wound its way serpentlike down the centre.

Here and there also the glitter of water showed through the trees, where some streamlet kissed by the sun’s rays shone with the radiance of burnished silver. From thence the woods rose in one dense mass upon the opposite slope, until they broke at length upon the very edge of the rocky cliffs that guard this portion of the coast, and beyond these again were the dark green waters of the Channel.

It was a scene that at any other time would have compelled my ardent admiration. The fertile valley nestling at our feet, clothed with its rich carpet of oaks and beeches, and rendered doubly welcome by contrast with the bleak, treeless surface of the torrs through which we had toiled since daybreak. But befouled with mud, wet and weary, we were in no condition to mark its beauties or to appreciate them. Moreover, though it was yet early June, a cold wind was rising, rustling in the treetops below us and bringing with it the odour of the sea.

As we sat there upon the brow of the hill, the steam from our jaded horses rising around us, we shivered in our saddles. For the last two hours, save for a muttered oath from one or other of the troopers when their weary animals stumbled, we had ridden for the most part in silence. Even Graham—gayest and most debonnaire of cornets—had scarce opened his lips save to answer some remark in monosyllables. And that fact alone was more significant than words to prove to what a state of depression the lonely torrs and the falling rain had reduced us. He had fallen somewhat behind with De Brito, but they spurred forward now upon seeing me halt. I had, I confess, no great liking for Cornet Brito; though to give him his due, had he paid less attention to the wine bottle he had the making of a good sword. But his was a coarse, brutal nature—sullen, revengeful, and without restraint—alien alike in every respect to my own. For I hold that a man may be forced to live by the wits that Nature has provided him with—he may be forced to sell his sword and service to the highest bidder—but he need not forget, thank God, that he was born a gentleman.

As for Cornet Graham, he was a merry, careless-hearted boy in appearance, with an eye for every comely maid, and a mind, one would have thought, running only upon the sit of his peruke or the latest fashion in sword knots. Yet his slight figure and fair boyish face belied his nature, which was as keen and ruthless as any of the troopers plodding at our heels. Even now I noted at a glance that though he was as wet through as the rest of us, no mud splash soiled his clothes. And his white cravat limp though it was, was yet tied in a fashion that would have done credit to the Mall or St. James’s. Indeed, to him London was the world.

“A curse on these endless hills!” said De Brito sullenly, as they drew rein at my side. “Why do we halt?”

For answer I pointed to where some three miles to our right, on the opposite side of the valley, and perched apparently upon the very edge of the cliff, the grey stone chimneys of a house rose above the surrounding trees. Beyond this the mighty head of Cleevesborough reared itself into the sky. And at its foot, marked by the smoke which hung, motionless, in the heavy air above it, lay the little port of Cleeve, to which it gives its name.

“Yonder is our goal!” I said curtly.

’Twas a sight to see the way in which his dark face brightened at the prospect.

“Then push on, in the devil’s name!” he cried querulously. “There is an inn at Cleeve?”

“I do not know,” I answered shortly, my mind running at the time upon far other matters.

“Who talks of inns at such a moment?—though an inn there is, and a good one!” said Cornet Graham. “But there is a woman yonder,—to see whose face is worth twenty such wettings.”

“Perdition take the woman!” growled De Brito in reply. “Give me a roaring fire and a cup of sack to keep out this cursed wet! Burn me! Women are as plentiful as blackberries; aye, and as cheap for the plucking.”

“But not such as this one!” cried the younger man with some heat. “’Tis five years ago, I swear, since I saw her first in London. But she was accounted then the toast of the Court by those most competent to judge in such matters; aye, even by King Charles himself—may the devil rest his soul! He deserved well of his people, seeing that he did his best to be a father to them.”

“So that, but for the accident of his death, we might have had a second Castlemaine,” I put in sneeringly. The mention of this woman, about whom the cornet had raved unceasingly since he had learned our destination, jarred upon my ears. He shook his head in dubious fashion.

“You do not know her,” he answered reflectively. “Proud as Lucifer, she is no woman to play the wanton, even to a king! Cold as proud, she is——”

“Pshaw, man! For shame! ’Tis my belief you think more of this paragon of virtue’s face than of the business that we have in hand.”

“Why not?” he cried quickly. “’Fore gad! Spies and Papists are common enough at present, but there is only one Lady Lettice Ingram, and—why, curse it, Cassilis, she is one of the loveliest women in England—the favourite toast of every tavern in town!”

“Such is fame!” I remarked caustically, and fell to scanning the house again. And I confess that the longer I gazed, the more difficult appeared my task.

For these were stirring times, and it behooved every man to keep a still tongue and a ready blade. All England was divided into two factions. The one still clinging to the restoration of the Stuart in the person of James II, the other content to follow the fortunes of Dutch William. Moreover, in every shire throughout the country were the spies and agents of the French king, working in secret to foment a rising among the Catholics. For Louis XIV. must have a finger in every European pie.

It was to arrest one of these agents—no less a person than the Marquis de Launay—that I had been sent hastily from Exeter, information coming to the authorities that he was in hiding at Cleeve Manor, an old Tudor mansion on the coast of Torbay belonging to the Ingram family, who were staunch upholders of the old religion, and the head of whom it was whispered was already with King James in Ireland, and high in his favour.

As I sat now, pondering upon the best way to carry out my orders, I saw at a glance that, standing as it did upon the edge of the cliff, to ride up to the front of the manor would be to render it an easy task for our quarry to escape by sea. Clearly, by some means we must gain the beach, in order to cut off any such method of escape from the rear. Accordingly, I told off the sergeant and a dozen men for this duty, with whom I purposed going myself, bidding the two cornets to lie hidden with the remainder of the troop until dark, and to then follow the road leading to the manor. Arrived there, Cornet Graham was to surround the front of the house, but to await an agreed signal between us ere he attempted to force an entrance. Meanwhile, De Brito and twenty troopers would ride on and overawe the village, a task which I knew would be both welcome and congenial to his temperament; nor was I wrong in so thinking. As I made an end of my instructions, he drew his thick and grizzled brows together in a sullen scowl that boded mischief.

“You need fear no trouble from that quarter,” he said grimly. “I know my work too well.”

“Aye, but none of your devil’s tricks here!” I retorted sharply. “We are not in Tangiers!”

For a moment his swarthy face wore an ugly look and his fingers sought his hilt. But he thought better of it.

“Leave me to do my own business in my own way!” he muttered sullenly. “Give me the village and the tavern—and slit me if I interfere with you in the matter of the dainty doves yonder!” And he nodded in the direction of the house.

His tone was one of such studied insolence that at any other time I should have called him to account. As it was, I shrugged my shoulders contemptuously and turned to Cornet Graham. On my life, he had pulled a little comb from his pocket and with this he was endeavouring to smooth his matted periwig.

“Remember,” I said warningly, “M. de Launay is to be taken alive.”

“If he is there at all,” he answered, “and this does not prove a fool’s errand!”

“It is like enough to be that,” I said carelessly, “since it is a king’s. But be consoled. At least, you will see this Venus!”

He cried out something at that, but I did not stay to hear. I gathered up my reins and, with a wave of the hand, rode after the troopers.

They had halted at the edge of the road awaiting my orders, and I saw that the sergeant had made a careful selection for the arduous work they had before them. As they sat there in their saddles, their fierce, swarthy faces bronzed to a coppery hue by the scorching suns of Tangiers, their coats, once red—worn and faded to a mottled purple, they were as ill-favoured a set of rogues as one could meet, not even excepting Kirk’s Lambs. I placed myself at their head, therefore, and leaving the road behind us, we plunged at once into the woods. So dense were these that ere we had proceeded more than a quarter of a mile I was compelled to dismount the men and to send back our horses in charge of two of their number. With the remaining troopers at my heels, I essayed to make the ascent on foot. Nor was it an easy task even then. From every branch the raindrops dripped upon us, so that, wet before, we were doubly so ere we had advanced but a short distance. Tripping over roots, torn by brambles, a dozen times we came down upon our faces, rendering us in a truly pitiable condition when at length we reached the summit. Nor did luck befriend us even then.

In front of us and on either side the woods spread to the edge of the cliff, the latter falling sheer away to give us a sight of the white-capped rollers, over which the gulls were wheeling, three hundred feet below, and with no sign of a path by which we might gain the shore. We separated now, making our way right and left as fast as the thick growth and the slippery nature of the ground would permit, while in my heart I cursed the delay, for the light was fading fast. It was not long before a shout from one of the troopers proclaimed that he had stumbled upon that which we sought. I made my way to his side as quickly as possible, and found him standing on the brink of a little combe, a mere cleft in the hillside, its sides thickly wooded, and with a swift stream, swollen by the rains from the torrs above, flowing in a succession of white-lipped falls down its centre. It was not an inviting road to take, and I would willingly have sought for a more open spot, but we had already lost more time than we could well spare, and dusk had fallen on the silent woods. Moreover, the heavy grey clouds, drifting low from the direction of the sea, momentarily grew darker and more threatening, giving promise of further rain. I rallied the troopers, therefore, at the head of the combe, and with the sergeant at my heels, plunged into the glen.

At first the ground was fairly open, and we were enabled to make good progress through the thickets of alders and rushes that fringed the banks of the stream, but ever as we advanced the green walls of the glen grew steeper and narrower, until we were forced to take to the stream itself, making our way from stone to stone that lay mossgrown and prostrate in its bed, or at times wading ankle deep through some shallow pool. It was as if we were cut off from the world. A damp, earthy smell, begotten of the winter’s leaves’ decay, filled the air. There was no sound save the song of the water swirling at our feet as it brawled amongst the pebbles and chafed in its narrow course, the occasional fall of a branch upon the hillside above, and in the distance the ever-increasing murmur of the sea.

For over half a mile we proceeded thus, so that it was with no little satisfaction that at length we saw the light, such as it was, gradually strengthening in front of us. Now the trees grew thinner, admitting a breath of sea air, which stole through their twisted trunks and fanned our faces. As we continued to advance, the glen as suddenly receded, and a moment or two later we came out upon the beach.

We found ourselves in a little shingle-covered bay, the extremities of which were shut in by the rocks, giving us no sight of what lay beyond. Above our heads on either side towered a mighty wall of rock, its grey, rugged surface broken here and there by patches of withered grass. And here the sergeant, who was a few paces in front of me, suddenly stopped.

He was a grizzled, battle-scarred veteran of the wars of Flanders, with whom I had once made a campaign upon the Rhine, and to whom for that reason I allowed some freedom. His looks, ill-favoured enough at best, were in no way improved by the scar of an old sword cut gained in some wild foray against the Turk, which scar, starting from his right eyebrow, stretched crosswise to his chin; twisting both nose and lips to their utter detriment and imparting a peculiarly forbidding and saturnine expression to his face.

“What is it?” I said sharply. “Why do you halt, man? The tide is out, and the light will serve.”

“Aye,” he answered slowly, “the tide is out, but——”

“But what?” I cried impatiently. “Come, out with it if you have anything to say!”

“Well, I like not that!” he rejoined with some hesitation, pointing out to sea.

Following the direction of his outstretched arm, away over the surface of the water, some two miles distant, but creeping each minute slowly and insidiously nearer, stretched a white wall of vapour, beneath which gleamed the foam-crested summits of the waves.

“Well?” I said contemptuously. “What of it? Have you never seen a sea fog before, or are you afraid?” I continued with a sneer.

“Neither of man nor devil!” he retorted with some heat. And to do him justice, I knew that he spoke truth. “But this—this is different. To be caught against that”—he nodded toward the cliff—“and to be drowned like rats!”

I saw that his words were not without effect. The troopers, already wearied by the day’s exertions, glanced askance at one another and began to mutter. At all hazards this must be stopped, and at once. I faced round on them.

“Who talks of drowning?” I cried angrily. “Curse you for a fool, man! ’Tis but a mile to go at most. But if you fear to venture, sergeant,” I continued, “you can return the way we came. And stay, I will send a couple of men back with you to bear you company; you will find it dark in the glen!”

He saluted at that, a flush of shame upon his face.

“Very well,” he said slowly; “let it be forward then. Only—I have warned you.”

“And you others!” I continued in a fierce tone, turning upon them and letting my hand fall lightly upon the butt of the pistol in my sash. “Have you anything to say, or do you forget who I am, you knaves? I will find a quicker death than yonder waves for the first man among you who questions my orders!”

I looked them squarely in the face, and their muttering died away. Steeped as they were in crime and license, I was their master, and they knew it. For a moment or two longer I remained silent to give full effect to my words, but not a man spoke.

“Forward then!” I said shortly; and we set off along the beach.

Not that their fears were altogether without foundation. The intense loneliness of the spot, increased as it was by the gathering dusk, was sufficient to daunt the stoutest heart. The wind was rising, moaning in the cavernous hollows and crevices of the cliff, from which came ever and anon the weird cry of some sea fowl, circling round its nest in the rocky wall above. And save for this there was no other sound but the hoarse murmur of the swift, incoming tide.

Rounding the rocks which screened the bay, we found ourselves in a second one, a complete replica of the first. And beyond us, headland upon headland, serrated against the darkening sky, stretched faint and shadowy into the far distance.

Our progress was slow, for the beach was composed of small, slate-coloured pebbles, flattened and rounded by the wash of endless surges, and into which our heavy military boots sank deep at every step. Here and there we were forced to skirt some mass of lichen-covered rocks; which, torn from the cliff side, lay scattered upon the shore at its base, their sharp, needle-like summits wreathed with tangled seaweed and their caves and hollows filled with the flotsam of the tides.

And now the fog rolled down upon us, at first in thin wreaths of vapour that floated in ghost-like silence like the first sentinels of an advancing army, but growing ever thicker and thicker as they approached landwards, until they wrapped us completely round in their damp embrace, blotting out everything from our vision save the wall of cliff upon our right, which loomed dark and menacing through the mist. The wind rose as suddenly to a gale, sending the fog wreaths eddying around us, and bringing with it a cold rain that at every successive gust beat in our faces, blinding and confusing us. A hundred times I cursed my folly and recalled the sergeant’s warning. He was at my elbow now, at times his figure appearing distorted and giant-like as the fog thinned somewhat; anon banishing altogether from my vision, swallowed up by the mist.

How long we struggled on thus, buffeted by the wind and rain, falling over the jutting rocks, I do not know; but it was in a lull in the gale, when the wind died down for a moment and the fog lifted, that I felt myself seized by the arm and plucked violently backward. It was none too soon. From out of the mist ahead appeared a green wall of water capped with foam. Down it thundered, breaking upon the pebbles at my feet, sending the salt spume flying above my head and swirling round my knees in a cataract of foam.

Even then, so sudden was the surprise, that the backwash was like to have swept me from my feet; but the sergeant’s grip tightened upon my arm and dragged me back to safety. And in a moment I realised what had happened. We had reached the end of the bay, into which the sea had already entered. I put my lips to the sergeant’s ear.

“Back to the cliff,” I shouted, “and climb, man! Climb, or——”

There was no need to finish the sentence. Not a man there but knew our danger. We began to retrace our steps. It had grown so dark now that it was only when the curtain of fog parted to a more violent gust than usual that I was enabled to distinguish the form of the trooper upon my right. The rain which we had experienced all day was as nothing to that which fell upon us now. It descended in sheets, drenching us to the skin and numbing us with its icy cold. For a while, indeed, a species of coma seized me. I thought of the cornets waiting in the roadway above, and wondered idly whether they would succeed in achieving the arrest of the man we had come so far to seek, and whether, by chance, upon the morrow they would find some relic of our party floating in the wash of the tide to tell the story of our fate, for I did not deceive myself. To climb the cliff even in the daylight would have been a hard enough feat; to do so at night, in the darkness and fog, was an impossibility. And though I was willing enough for the troopers’ sake to make the attempt—aye, and to encourage the effort—yet in my heart I knew that there could be but one ending.

It seemed hard, I remember thinking dully, that a man who had passed unscathed through the perils of many battlefields—hard for a man who had made a campaign with Montecuccoli, and whose arms had held the great Turenne as he fell from his horse, struck down by a cannon-ball upon the banks of the Rhine—to be drowned at the last in a little bay upon the lonely Devon coast. I was aroused from these reflections by the sound of an oath and a heavy fall, as the trooper upon my left stumbled over a black mass which loomed up suddenly in his path. He was on his feet again ere I could reach his side, and gave vent to such a ringing shout that it pierced above the gale and brought us all around him. That which he had fallen over, very providentially as it proved for us, was a boat anchored to the beach by a short length of rope fastened to a stone. With renewed hope we scattered again in search of the path which the inmates of the manor must have been in the habit of using when passing to and fro to this small craft. At length an idea struck me, and raising my hand to pass it carefully over the rocky wall above me at a little above the level of my shoulder, I came upon a ledge. By climbing upon the sergeant’s bent back, I was enabled to draw myself up to it at the cost of a few bruises, and to clamber upon its flat surface.

It was, as near as I could judge, some ten feet square, and in the far corner my hands came in contact with a flight of steps leading upwards, roughly hewn in the cliff side. Five minutes later the whole party of us stood upon a little platform, side by side. And then, drawing a long breath, I essayed to make the ascent.

There were eighteen steps in all, giving place to a path, a mere narrow ledge on the surface of the cliff, at no place more than four feet wide, and with a sheer drop upon the one side to the beach below. Along this we crept, at every fresh gust of wind flattening ourselves against the rocky wall upon the right and clinging to its jagged fissures. It was a weird experience, I vow, to be suspended thus ’twixt sea and sky; no sound save the whistling of the wind in the crannies of the cliff, the roar of the pitiless surges below us, or the harsh scream of a gull from the mist out at sea. Yet I have travelled this same path since by daylight, and I have often thought that the thickness of the fog upon that night was most fortunate for us, sparing us, as it did, the full knowledge of the yawning which lay at our side, the sight of which might well have turned the strongest head giddy. Even as it was, at a place where the ledge took a sharp turning, a sudden blast struck me with such violence that, taken off my guard, for a moment I was in danger of being torn from my foothold, and only by driving my nails into a crack of the rock until the fingers themselves were left all raw and bleeding was I enabled to withstand its boisterous pressure.

The breeze passed. And taking courage of my experience, I made haste to round the dangerous corner, shouting back a word of warning to the file of men creeping at my heels. Even as we ascended the noise of the waves grew fainter, until, after travelling some twenty minutes thus, a new sound was added to the patter of the rain upon the side of the cliff—namely, the howl of the wind in the treetops above us.

A last effort as the way grew steeper yet, and I gained the summit, to fling myself panting and exhausted upon the turf in the thick darkness beyond.

CHAPTER II
OF THE LIGHT THAT SHONE IN THE FOG

It must have been for the space of full five minutes that I lay thus, with quivering nerves and labouring breath, upon the sodden ground, with the raindrops beating down upon me, ere I roused myself sufficiently to get to my feet and call to the sergeant. His voice answered me from out of the night, somewhere at my side. I bade him ascertain that none of the party had got separated in the darkness. Accordingly, he called the troopers one by one, and at each name an invisible speaker answered: “Here!”

“They are all present!” said the sergeant gruffly, who, though distant from me but some three feet or so, showed only as a darker patch upon the murk beyond. It was the very gloom of Egypt that encompassed us. Therefore, I gave instructions that each trooper should lay hold of the belt of the man in front of him, and setting our faces away from the direction of the sea, we moved slowly through the inky blackness that surrounded us. That there were trees around us I had ample proof, not only by the sound of the wind whistling in their branches overhead, but also by the fact that ere we had advanced a dozen yards I tripped over a projecting root, my head coming into such violent contact with an unseen tree, that I was glad to lean for a moment or two, sick and dizzy, against its knotted trunk. Thereafter I was more careful, feeling my way from tree to tree, and probing the darkness in front with my sheathed sword.

We had been moving a long time thus, or so it seemed, when the trees on either side abruptly ceased, and turn it which way I would, my sword encountered only empty air. Across this open space we slowly moved till at the thirty-seventh step as I counted my sword struck with a sharp tinkle against what I took for the moment to be a stone wall. It was not until I had passed my hand over its flat surface and down its base that I discovered the nature of the object upon which we had stumbled. It was the sun-dial, such as I had often seen in France, and I knew by its shape that I was not mistaken. From this I argued we were somewhere within the gardens belonging to the house, and here the man who was behind me (it was the sergeant) loosened his hold, and I felt him groping upon the ground at my feet. Presently he rose, as I could tell by the sound of his voice.

“There is a path here,” he said; “I can feel its border. Aye, and a broad one.”

“In that case,” I answered, “lead on! The house cannot be far away.”

I resigned my place to him, therefore, at the head, and with frequent stoppages we made our way slowly along the path. A dozen times at least we strayed from the track, and it was only with the greatest patience that we were enabled to retrace our steps. We must have travelled thus for some five or six hundred yards, when we almost ran into a stone wall, that lay on the right-hand side of the path, and saw before us a dark mass looming through the mist. We felt our way by the side of this wall until, upon turning sharply round the corner, the sergeant’s hand was laid upon my arm, and we came to a sudden halt. For there, not twenty feet distant, from an open doorway, a bright light was streaming out into the fog.

For the moment we were sheltered somewhat from the wind by the building itself, and I thought that in between the gusts I could distinguish the sound of voices. Though this was the very thing we had expected to encounter, yet so long had our eyes been accustomed to the darkness, that it came even now as somewhat of a surprise to us and we stood staring stupidly before us. Moreover, the light from whatever source it came did not burn steadily, but every now and then it was partially obscured, as if some one or something came between it and the doorway, to burst forth a moment later with renewed brilliance, flinging its yellow aureole of light upon the fog, and serving but to increase the impenetrable shadow that lay beyond. I came to myself with a start and slowly unsheathed my sword; and I heard a faint tinkle of steel go rippling into the darkness behind me as the troopers did the same. Then, with the sergeant at my side, I stole quietly forward, and halting at the edge of the circle of light, ourselves unseen in the shadow, we peered into the room.

At first I could see nothing, but as my eyes grew accustomed to the brightness within, I was enabled to make out the interior. It was a stable, and by the light of a couple of lanterns hung upon the wall an old man was whisping the mud stains from a magnificent chestnut mare, pausing every now and again to rub her sleek, glossy sides. A younger man muffled in a cloak was standing with his back to us, a lantern at his feet.

My eyes were rivetted upon the mare, for I have ever been a lover of horses, and indeed to a man who has spent the better part of twenty years in the saddle and who has owed his life again and again to the speed of the animal beneath him, the love of them becomes as it were a second nature. I saw that this was an animal rarely met with in a thousand and that it carried a lady’s saddle and bore the signs of recent hard riding.

I started when the sergeant touched my arm and pointed to the younger man’s belt. Following the direction of his outstretched hand, I saw that this man’s cloak had fallen open and that he carried a bunch of keys at his side. By this I judged him, and rightly so, as it proved, to be the steward. This was a stroke of unexpected good fortune, for the means of gaining access to the house now lay to our hands.

It was this latter who was speaking, every word coming plainly to our ears through the open door.

“Hast nearly finished?” he said impatiently.

“Finished?” said the other, in a high-pitched, querulous voice, and I saw he raised his head and disclosed a yellow face seamed with a hundred wrinkles, that he was much older than I had first thought, and with the unmistakable look of a man who has spent his life amongst horses. “How should I be finished—and look at Carola! Been down on her knees, she has! But what does my lady care? She can stop in the light and warmth yonder. ’Tis old Reuben must clean her horse. Let old Reuben go out in the wet and fog. Nobody minds what happens to him!” He broke off in a fit of coughing.

“How now, old grumbler!” said the other sharply. “That is a lie, and you know it! Aye, and if my lady heard you she would make you smart for those words!”

The old man looked up with a grin that disclosed the few yellow stumps remaining in his head. “She would that, lad!” he chuckled. The steward nodded gravely.

“You will find that my lady does not forget a service,” he said slowly.

“God bless her!” said the old man softly, stooping once more to his work.

“Amen to that,” the steward answered.

So that for the first time my curiosity was aroused as to what manner of woman this could be of whom they spoke in such terms.

“Aye, it will be a bad day for us all if she should marry this Frenchman,” he continued, shaking his head.

“The devil take all Frenchmen!” the old man burst out in his thin, quavering voice, and with true insular prejudice. “She will wed a man—a man, I tell thee—not a tricked-out, scented popinjay. Frenchman indeed,” he continued with fine contempt. “Mark my words, lad! Eight and sixty year I’ve lived here, boy and man, and I’ve never seen a Frenchman yet that was a man! It’s not in ’em, lad! It’s not born in ’em!”

“I misdoubt you have seen one at all before, old Reuben!” answered the other, but the old man only continued to nod and mutter to himself. “But every one to their taste,” the steward added. “My lady will make a good match, and a good wife.”

“Aye,” the man Reuben answered, “when she is tamed, lad; when she is tamed—and Lord help the tamer!” he added with a chuckle that trailed off into a fit of coughing. The steward waited until he had recovered his breath, then:

“There be some at the house yonder who think ’tis Mistress Grace he would be wedding,” he said slowly, but the old man only shook his head.

“It’s not my lady,” he answered doggedly. “I’ll take my oath of that! No, nor Mistress Grace either.”

“Then why is he here?” cried the steward eagerly. “Tell me that!” The other raised his head with a cunning look on his wrinkled face.

“I have heard it said that James Stuart is in Ireland,” he said slowly.

“Bah!” the man in the cloak answered. “Every one knows that!”

“Hark to that now!” the old man replied, apostrophising the mare, that by way of answer whinnied softly and laid her head upon his shoulder. “Every one knows that! Every one knows——” He broke off with a half inaudible chuckle.

“Well, ’tis true, is it not, old dotard?” said the other sharply.

“How should I know?” answered the old man querulously. “Reuben the dotard! Reuben the fool!” and again he laughed mirthlessly.

“Mark you,” said the steward quickly, “I love not Dutch William. I am for the Stuarts, I! But this I say, that James is no fighter, and if he should give battle to William—pho!” And he snapped his fingers expressively.

“Aye, if he should!” the other replied significantly. “But—” and he sank his voice slightly—“what if he were to slip away and leave this Dutch hog in Ireland! What if he were to land here?”

“Here?” the steward cried in a startled tone.

“Here!” the old man went on triumphantly, “and the Earl with him! Why, at the master’s call we’d have the whole countryside in arms!”

“Aye, but what has the Frenchman to do with it?” the other cried in a tone of bewilderment.

“Nay, how should I know!” he replied, grinning. “Reuben the dotard! Only, did ever a Stuart have money!” he added softly, with a glance of contempt at the man before him.

A light seemed to break upon the steward. “Ha, I see!” he cried excitedly. “Then you think——”

“I think that the mare is listening,” said the old man with a sour smile, and he stooped to continue his task. Nor for all the steward’s entreaties would he again open his mouth. He gave up the attempt at length.

“Well,” he said reluctantly, “I may not bide here longer. Do you make haste, and we will talk of this again.” He stooped and raised the lantern from the floor, and with this swaying in his hand he came toward the open doorway to walk into our arms.

When the sergeant had clapped a pistol to his head there was no more surprised a man in all England. He could not be expected to know the fact that the wet had long since rendered the weapon useless. As for the old man, he stood rigid, as if petrified, with open mouth and staring eyes, and I saw that we had nothing to fear from him. I turned therefore to the younger man, who stood in the sergeant’s grip, the very picture of astonishment. Behind us the troopers crowded into the room.

“Now, my friend,” I said quietly, picking up the lantern from the ground—it had fallen from his hand—“I desire a word with you!”

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he stammered, when at last he found his tongue. That soldiers should rise up out of the night in the very centre of his master’s lands was a thing apparently beyond his power to grasp. He was a man of about forty, as near as I could judge, and he bore the look of one to whom good living came habitual. I did not anticipate having much trouble with him, but in this I proved to be mistaken.

“As to who I am,” I answered sharply, “I am a king’s officer; let that be sufficient for you! And for the rest, I have need of your assistance, and also some information. You are, I take it, steward to the Earl of Ingram, who, I understand, is at present with the man James Stuart in Ireland, and high in his favour?”

He looked at me, scowling, but he did not speak.

“Answer, will you!” cried the sergeant, thrusting his scarred visage within a foot of the other’s head.

“Yes,” he replied sullenly, shrinking from the sergeant’s fierce face.

“Good,” I answered. “I see that we shall get on, my friend. You were speaking a while ago of a Frenchman. Nay, do not give yourself the trouble of denying it. He is still here?”

“And if so, what then?” he said suspiciously, heedless of the sergeant’s threatening look.

“Only that I desire speech of this same gentleman,” I answered, “and I have ridden far to get it. In the first place, how many servants are there in the house yonder?”

He hesitated for a moment, then:

“There are but a dozen,” he replied.

“Are you sure there are no more?” I said sharply. “The truth, man!”

“I have told you,” he answered sulkily; “and the half of these are women.”

“Very good,” I answered; “that is sufficient. You will now lead us to the house, and—for I see that you have the keys—you will show us how best to gain an entrance.”

“I’ll not do it,” he burst out on a sudden, to my astonishment, for I had not given the man credit for so much courage. “I tell you I will take no part in it! I will do nothing that shall injure my ladies!”

“You are a fool!” I said tartly, for I was fast losing patience. Time was passing, and I was anxious to get the business over in order to dry my wet clothes, which clung to me with a chilly persistency. Moreover, I thought it more than probable that Cornet Graham would have already arrived ere this at the house, and, believing that some accident had surely befallen us, would proceed to execute his commission in his own way. In that case I had missed what credit there might be attached to the actual capture. “I have told you that it is with this gentleman I wish to speak. I have nothing to do with aught else.”

“Yet I will not do it,” he said doggedly. “You may find the key for yourself.”

“Perhaps the flame of yon candle across his wrists would make him alter his mind,” growled the sergeant.

I saw the man turn white at the words, but he uttered no sound. “Hark you, fellow!” I said harshly. “I have no time to waste in trifling. I will give you till I count ten to say if you will do as I desire, and I should recommend you to reconsider your decision, otherwise——”

I caught the sergeant’s eye. He grinned and commenced to unwind his sash. In the dead silence that followed, a silence broken only by the whistling of the wind without, that set the lanterns flickering and the shadows dancing on the walls, I began slowly to count. The troopers stood around, leaning on their swords, in keen expectation of that which was to come.

It was a strange scene upon which the lantern light fell. The mare regarding the intruders with a mild surprise, the prisoner in the centre, silent and sullen, and lastly, the ring of ruthless faces, upon which were stamped all the baser passions of cruelty and lust.

“Eight, nine”—I made a longer pause—“ten!”

The man before me had neither moved nor spoken as yet, but now he broke out again:

“I will not do it! You may flog me first! I will say no more!”

The sergeant’s eye had been busy searching the room.

“We shall not flog you,” he said grimly. “Make your mind easy as to that. But,” he continued, “there is a hook above, I see, and a strong one. Here, one of you, bring me that rope yonder. I will teach him how we unloose tongues in Tangiers!”

The words seemed to arouse the steward to a sense of his danger, for he made an unexpected dash for the door. But the troopers were too quick for him. There was a short struggle, a volley of curses as the man was borne down and his arms pinioned behind his back. A trooper climbed upon the stall and flung the rope over the hook in the ceiling. A couple more dragged their prisoner across, and making a running noose, slipped it over his head, and three pairs of willing hands seized the other end of the rope, and the thing was done with a celerity of dispatch that bespoke long practice. They but awaited my signal. I was loth to give this, for I would have spared the man if I could, but I saw no other way to make him speak. I was about to give it, therefore, when there came an unexpected interruption. Up till now the old man I have before mentioned had stood a still and silent spectator of the scene being enacted, but seeing his companion standing with the rope round his neck, and reading for the first time the doom in store for him, he suddenly moved forward, striving to push his way to his side.

“You devils!” he cried shrilly, “let the man go! Let him go, I say!”

“To your kennel, old Beelzebub!” cried a trooper roughly with a blow on the mouth that sent him reeling backwards, to fall beneath the horse’s feet, where he lay whimpering senilely among the straw.

I turned again to the prisoner.

“Once more,” I said shortly, “will you lead and gain us an entrance to the house—yes or no?”

His white lips quivered for answer, but no sound escaped them. He seemed like one dazed.

The sergeant looked inquiringly across at me. I nodded grimly and stepped through the open door. I was desirous of ascertaining if the fog had lifted, and there are some things it is better not to see. It was intensely dark outside the circle of light thrown by the lanterns, yet after standing for a short time probing the blackness with my eyes I thought that the mist had certainly grown somewhat thinner, for I could dimly make out the form of the bushes opposite me and the pathway at my feet running into the gloom. I made my way a short distance along this, keeping in touch with the wall upon my right. The rain was still falling heavily, and the wind moaned in the treetops above with a sound like the wailing of lost souls in pain. From the room behind me came one cry that pierced the fog and reached my ears above the gale, and then silence.

The sergeant was a persuasive man. It was in less than five minutes that, looking back, I saw his figure appear in the doorway. Shading his eyes with his hand, he stood peering out into the darkness. I slowly retraced my steps.

It was not until I was at his side that he saw me. He gave a start at my sudden appearance; and held out his hand. “Here is the key,” he said with a grin; “and he has changed his mind.” I took the key and followed him into the room.

The steward lay upon the ground with blackened face and distorted features. They had taken the rope from round his neck and it now hung dangling from the hook above. He had the appearance of a man in the last extremity.

“You have gone too far,” I said, frowning. “The man is dying!”

“Not he,” the sergeant answered. “We did but give him an extra dance on air in case the way should slip his memory.”

He stooped as he spoke, and lifting the man’s body, propped him with his back against the stall; and picking up the bucket that lay beside the mare, he flung the contents upon his head. It had the desired effect. In less than five minutes the shadow faded from his face, his breathing grew more regular. Presently they raised him to his feet and—supported by a trooper on either side—he stood breathing heavily.

“Will you guide us now?” said the sergeant fiercely, “or must we string you up again?”

The man before us gave a slight gesture of assent. He was too far gone to speak.

“And play us no tricks,” the sergeant growled. “I have made better men speak than you, though they were heathen—aye, and be silent too!” And he passed his hand across his throat with a gesture there was no mistaking.

I waited a few minutes longer for the knave to recover himself and while they bound the old man to the head of the stall, where he stood mumbling incoherent curses; and then, thrusting the lantern into the steward’s shaking hand, guarded by the troopers on either side, we set out on our way. I had thought that the house lay close at hand, but this was not the case. Now that we were in the open air, the cold wind and the rain beating upon his bare head had a reviving effect upon the steward, and he led us unfalteringly through the darkness. He turned sharply to the right; and by the flickering light cast by the lantern, I could see that we were upon a broad gravel walk and that the trees on either side had given place to well-kept lawns and beds of flowers, over which the wind swept boisterously.

Suddenly the lantern swung to the left; and a moment or two later the sergeant rapped out an oath.

“What is the matter?” I said sharply.

“We have left the path!” he cried.

I snatched the lantern from the steward’s hand and saw that the sergeant had spoken the truth. There was turf beneath our feet. A sudden suspicion of our guide crossed my brain. What if he should lead us once more to the brink of the cliff, and, true in his loyalty to the house he served, should cause us to perish, though the act should involve his own destruction. Such things had been done, I knew, and he had proved himself to be a stubborn man. I threw the light upon his face.

“What is this?” I said harshly. “Are you playing us false, man?”

“No,” he answered sullenly. “There should be a fountain here.”

I bade the troopers keep behind me, and throwing the light upon the ground, moved slowly forwards, half expecting at each step to see some horrible abyss yawning at my feet. But nothing appeared until some fifty feet further I came once more to a gravel path, in the centre of which a white marble fountain loomed ghost-like through the fog. At a short distance from this stood a stone seat, its surface strewn with the petals of withered roses. I thrust the light back into the steward’s hand, and he struck off into a broader walk than any we had as yet traversed and which ascended, by means of three or four stone steps, in a succession of terraces, until, when we had travelled fully a quarter of a mile from where we started, we came at last to a little stone bridge spanning a narrow moat. I held the lantern over this and the light shone upon the dark surface below, covered, for the most part, with a thick growth of water-weed. The bridge gave entrance to a broader terrace beyond, across which loomed the dark outline of the house. I bade them now put out the lantern; and we crossed the terrace and stood beneath the walk of the building. To left and right of where we were standing the house stretched into the fog, dark and silent. There was something almost sinister in its gloomy aspect, matching well with the black night without.

Stay; a little to our right I thought that I could see a shaft of light, and it was towards this that the steward directed his steps. It came from a heavily curtained window and lay a mere slit upon the gravel surface of the terrace. At the top the curtains had fallen somewhat apart, disclosing nothing to our view, however, beyond a glimpse of the brightly illumined ceiling of the room. I halted and put my lips to the steward’s ear. “What room is that?” I said softly.

“It is the dining hall,” he whispered in reply. “The man you seek is there.”

I noticed that the window was such as I had seen in France. It reached to the ground and opened upon the terrace. I left two troopers therefore to guard it, impressing them with the necessity of using the utmost vigilance. They took up their station one on either side, and we continued our way until the steward stopped at length before an arched doorway in the wall. I halted then, and waiting till a lull in the gale, raised my voice and gave the signal I had agreed upon with Cornet Graham. The melancholy cry went pealing into the night, and we stood in the darkness, straining our ears for a reply. But no answering cry came back to them, no sound from the silent house, save the patter of the rain upon the ivy-covered wall and the sobbing of the wind in its eaves and gables.

I waited no longer, therefore, but inserted the key in the lock before me. It was a massive door, nail-studded, and it opened with a sullen creak as we quickly entered, carrying with us a breath of the fog and a shower of raindrops. We closed it quietly behind us, and so thick was its massive timber that the noise of the wind without came to our ears but faintly as from a distance. We stood in a narrow passage, giving place to a square, dimly lit hall, from which five or six doors opened. So far we had seen no one, but from a corridor on the right came the sound of voices with now and again a snatch of song.

I looked inquiringly at the steward.

“The servants’ quarters,” he whispered in return.

I signed to two or three of the men to take their stand at the head of this passage, and, with the others at my heels, crossed the hall to a door upon the left, from beneath which the light was shining. Then, sword in hand, I softly opened the door and we entered the room.

CHAPTER III
OF THE KING’S ERRAND AND MY LADY’S WELCOME

The interior was brilliantly lighted by a number of wax candles set in sconces against the walls, their light reflected by a cunning arrangement of broad mirrors that hung upon the deep oak-panelled surface behind them. Between these the light fell upon many a portrait of past earls of Cleeve, interspersed with arms of various countries and the trophies of the chase. Upon our right, three broad stairs, flanked on either side by a richly carved balustrade, led up to a little landing, on which, directly facing the steps, were a pair of folding doors. From this landing the stairway divided, ascending left and right to a gallery overhead, that ran along the whole length of that side of the hall. On our left were three or four heavily curtained windows. For the rest, the squares of bright-hued carpet lying on the polished oaken floor, the richness of the furniture and hangings, all bespoke the wealth of the owners, as the cut-glass bowls filled with the summer’s flowers, the open spinet upon which some leaves of music were scattered, denoted unmistakably the presence of women—and women of refinement and taste.

All this I took in, as it were, at a glance ere fixing my eyes upon the two persons who occupied the room.

At the farther end, before a wide, stone chimney, in which a bright fire of logs was burning, a lady was seated in a high-backed chair, over which a tall man was leaning, conversing with her in low tones.

Their backs were towards us, and they did not move when I opened the door. Doubtless they thought it was some servant who entered. They were speedily undeceived.

“M. de Launay,” I cried clearly, “I arrest you in the name of his Majesty, William III.!”

Had a cannon-ball fallen suddenly into the room, it could not have occasioned a greater surprise.

The lady started to her feet with a low cry of fear, and so stood, gazing at us with startled eyes. As for the gentleman, he turned to face us, his sword half drawn from its sheath. But a second glance must have convinced him of the futility of resistance, for he let his hand fall to his side again. He was a handsome man in the prime of life, and was dressed in the latest fashion of the French Court. His suit of white flowered satin and gold-embroidered vest became him wonderfully; his peruke was of the largest, his cravat and the ruffles at his wrist of the finest lace; and there was an air of graceful elegance about him which birth and breeding alone give. He bore the look of one who had spent his life in the society of great men.

For a few seconds there was silence in the room, broken only by the howl of the wind without and the lashing of the rain against the window.

“Who are you?” he demanded, when at length he found his voice. He spoke English well enough, though with a somewhat foreign accent.

“Permit me to explain,” I answered, turning to the lady, though still keeping a watchful eye upon the man before me. I now had leisure to observe her more closely. She was young, not more than twenty years of age, as I judged, and her gown of pink brocade served to display the slimness of her figure. A fair face, surrounded by its mass of flaxen curls, but one scarcely deserving the high praises that Cornet Graham had sung in my ears upon the road. As the thought of them recurred to me, I could barely repress a smile. I had seen many women more beautiful. “Do I address the Lady Lettice Ingram?” I said, doffing my hat.

“She is my sister,” she replied slowly. Her eyes were still dark with fear. In a moment I was minded of the steward’s words. I told myself that this was the Mistress Grace that he had mentioned.

“Madam,” I made haste to answer, “I beg that you will not be alarmed at this intrusion, which the exigencies of my errand alone warranted. My business is with this gentleman,” I continued, indicating the Frenchman, who stood, one white hand laid upon the hilt of his rapier. “M. de Launay, I am charged with your arrest by order of Sir Richard Danvers, governor of the west during his Majesty’s absence in Ireland.”

“Pest!” he said coolly. “But if I am not the person you mention. What if you have made a mistake, monsieur?”

“No mistake, M. le Marquis,” I answered firmly, “as I am about to prove to you. Be good enough to carry your memory back some three years, and I think that you cannot have forgotten one Armand de Brissac and a certain duel in the Crown Tavern at Barcelona!”

For a moment he stared at me, a look of profound astonishment on his face.

“De Brissac? The Maître D’Armés?” he cried quickly.

“On that occasion,” I continued, “you staked somewhat heavily upon the issue and lost.”

“To poor D’Epernay, who fell at Walcourt. Certainly I remember the circumstances. But you—how is it that you?—I do not understand.” He looked at me more intently. “Pardieu!” he burst out, “I know you now! He was the finest swordsman in the French army, and you killed him in less than five minutes!”

I bowed low.

“That being the case, monsieur,” I answered, “I think you will admit that I have made no mistake as to your identity.”

“Readily,” he replied lightly. “And your name, monsieur? It has escaped my memory.”

“Adrian Cassilis,” I answered, “at your service! Captain in his Majesty’s Tangier Horse!”

“A famous regiment,” he said. “I congratulate you! I have had the pleasure of fighting against them both in France and Flanders.”

Again I bowed.

“Admitting then, M. Cassilis,” he continued, “that I am the man you mention, may I be permitted to ask what is your purpose concerning me, and where you would take me?”

“To Exeter,” I answered, “in the first place.”

“And afterwards?” he said quickly.

“Doubtless my Lord Danvers will himself inform you,” I replied.

“You are discreet, monsieur!” he said, frowning. “At least you will not refuse to inform me with what offence I am charged?”

“All in good time, M. le Marquis,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders. “Be patient, I beg of you. You have been a soldier yourself. My duty is but to secure your person.”

“But, you have some idea!” he cried impatiently. “Is it not so? Be frank, man!”

“Possibly,” I answered curtly. “With the Stuart in Ireland and a French army at Dunkirk, it needs no long head to discover a reason for depriving so distinguished a soldier as M. de Launay of his present liberty.”

“Truly I should be flattered at my celebrity,” he answered lightly. “But if the liberty of every one of my countrymen at present in England is for the same reason to be so curtailed, you will require to enlarge your prisons, monsieur!”

I was about to reply to this, when——

“What is the meaning of this outrage?”

The words fell clearly and suddenly upon my ears.

I turned in the direction from which the voice proceeded, and I saw that the folding doors beneath the gallery were wide open, and that a woman stood at the head of the stair.

She stood at the head of the stairway, in the full light of the candles, and as my eyes rested upon her face, the dangers and hardships of our journey, nay, the very errand upon which we had come, and the presence of the man at my side, all faded away, and I saw nothing but the face of the woman before me, while in my ears rang the words of the cornet: “She is accounted by some to be the loveliest woman in England.” And I knew that they had not lied.

She was clad in a grey-velvet riding dress, that revealed every curve of her faultless figure, silhouetted as she was against the semi-darkness of the corridor behind. Upon the clustering golden hair that framed her face was set the daintiest of three-cornered riding hats. But how to describe her beauty I know not. Words are but poor things at best, and how can I, a plain soldier, depict with justice that upon which the painters and poets of Europe have lavished the finest efforts of their genius! This only will I say: That in the proud poise of the lovely head, upon the haughty, glowing face, with its rich colouring heightened by her recent ride, was stamped the pride of birth and conscious beauty.

Oh, she was beautiful! A woman for the sake of whom a man might give his life and count it less than naught. A woman to gain whose love a man might sell his soul!

“I am waiting, sir!” she cried impatiently, as speechless I stood before her, dazzled by her beauty. Her voice was rich, if a trifle imperious; her every movement instinct with a womanly grace. Descending the steps, she stood facing me not ten paces distant. And I saw her eyes—eyes of a dusky, violet hue flash ominously as she took in the details of the scene. Doubtless, splashed with mud as we were from head to heel, our clothes sodden with the wet, our faces streaked with scratches where the brambles had torn us—we must have appeared like denizens of the Pit itself.

Her words recalled me to myself with a start.

“Madam,” I stammered—and my voice sounded hoarse even to my own ears—“I crave your pardon for so intruding, but—That window is guarded, M. de Launay!” I broke off sharply.

He gave in at that.

“Pest!” he said with a shrug. “You think of everything, monsieur! I call you to witness, however, that I had given you no parole. Have you come out against me with an army?”

“I am too old a campaigner, monsieur,” I replied curtly, “to leave aught to chance.”

“Address yourself to me, sir!” my lady cried imperiously, “and in as few words as possible.”

I turned to where she stood, one gauntletted hand daintily upholding her trailing skirt. In the other she carried a short riding whip.

“To be brief then, madam,” I answered, “I am charged with an order for the arrest of M. de Launay.”

“M. de Launay is my guest,” she replied haughtily, “and were he King Louis himself I would not give him up!”

“Descending the steps, she stood facing me not ten paces distant”

Doubtless the smallness of our numbers encouraged her in the thought that her servants might offer us effectual resistance. If so, she was speedily undeceived. Even as she spoke there came the sound of many footsteps in the hall without, accompanied by the clank of steel, and Cornet Graham and his troop entered the room.

“It appears to me, madam,” I said calmly, “that you have no option in the matter.”

She looked at me for a moment as if she could not believe her ears—as if I were less than the dirt beneath her feet. So long had she been accustomed to have her slightest wish obeyed, that now to have her will disputed was an experience as novel as it was humiliating.

“You would use force, sir?” she cried incredulously.

“As to that, madam,” I replied, “my answer is written behind me!” and I glanced significantly at the troopers.

“It is plainly written,” she replied quickly, with a woman’s ready wit. “Times are indeed changed,” she continued bitterly, “when we of the house of Ingram must submit to the bidding of the first beggar who carries a sword at his side! But it seems that we must obey the ruling powers, with whom even our own servants are in league!”

At this I could readily believe there was no enviable time ahead of the steward and he must have thought so, too, for with a sudden effort he shook off the slackened grasp of the troopers on either side and stepped quickly forward.

“My lady,” he cried, “what could I do? They would have hanged me!” and he pointed to his neck, round which was a purple ring where the cord had cut into the flesh, plain to be seen by the dullest eyes, and the meaning of which could not be mistaken.

For a moment my lady gazed; then she drew herself to her full height and faced us, one hand pressed against her bosom, as if to restrain the passion that caused her figure to tremble and flashed from the depths of her wondrous eyes.

“And was this, sir,” she cried, “this in your orders—that you should not only break into my house, but should also vent your savage cruelty upon my inoffensive servants?”

Again I stood speechless before her, for anger served only to increase her loveliness.

“Inoffensive? A damned rebel!” growled the sergeant.

I silenced him with a look and turned once more to the woman before me.

“Pooh! madam,” I said coolly, for her words nettled me, “the man is not seriously hurt, and my duty must be my excuse.”

“Your duty!” she cried with intense scorn. “You had not dared this outrage had my brother, the earl, been present!”

“But he is not, madam,” I answered with a faint sneer. “I believe I am correct in saying that he is not even in England!”

“He is where every true and loyal gentleman should be,” she cried boldly—“in Ireland, fighting for his rightful sovereign, King James!”

I heard a low gasp escape the troopers behind me. It might have been astonishment or of admiration at her boldness.

“You are frank, madam,” I replied, “and permit me to say it—somewhat indiscreet. But again I beg you to believe that the duty which thus forces me into your presence was as unsought by me as it is distasteful.”

“I do not believe you,” she said proudly. “And you may spare me your apologies, sir! There is never wanting an instrument base enough to execute any deed of injustice!”

Her words stung me.

“Very well, madam,” I replied; “then there is nothing further to be said. M. de Launay,” I continued, “I must trouble you for your sword. I regret that my leniency will not so far permit me to allow you to retain it, but give me your parole that you will attempt no escape upon the road and you shall ride with all freedom. Also,” I added, “I should recommend you to bring your cloak, monsieur. The weather is inclement.”

“But pardon, M. Cassilis,” he broke out, as a sudden gust of wind shook the casements and sent the raindrops rattling on the glass, “you do not mean to ride to Exeter on such a night as this!”

“By no means,” I answered. “But there is a good inn here, I am told. We shall be there to-night, monsieur, and start at daybreak.”

“In that case,” my lady cried, “he shall stay here to-night.”

“That is as I choose, madam,” I answered coldly, “and I do not choose.”

I could see that to be checked, thwarted, made to feel of no account, here in the place where by virtue of her birth and beauty she had held undisputed sway, was galling to her pride beyond endurance. I could see it, I say, and I rejoiced in the knowledge.

“Your parole, monsieur!” I said once more, turning to the marquis.

“Since I have no choice in the matter,” he answered testily, “you have it. On the honour of a De Launay!” he added proudly.

I bowed.

“That is sufficient, monsieur,” I replied. “But pardon me,” I continued lightly; “you say that you have no choice in the matter. On the contrary, there is another alternative. I am offering you the treatment of a gentleman; if you prefer it, however, you may go bound to a horse like any common felon.”

He looked at me very sourly, but he did not speak. Instead, he unbuckled his sword and threw it with an ill grace upon the floor, and at a sign from me, a trooper stepped forward and picked it up. I glanced at my lady with, I doubt not, some of the triumph I felt showing in my eyes. I was so completely the master of the situation.

“Believe me, monsieur,” I said, “I take but the precaution that my warrant enjoins. You may read it for yourself if you so desire.”

“It is of no consequence,” he answered with a wave of the hand.

“But it is of consequence to me, monsieur!” my lady cried wrathfully. “I am the mistress of this house and the guardian of all pertaining to its honour. Show me this warrant, if indeed you have one!” she added, turning suddenly upon me.

I sheathed my sword, and with flushed face and trembling fingers I drew the paper from my breast and held it out to her. But she stepped backwards with such a look of proud disdain upon her lovely face that my hand dropped involuntarily to my side. For a moment she stood thus, searching my eyes and enjoying, perhaps, my confusion, for I saw that she would not take it from my hand; then she motioned to the steward who stood near.

“Give it to me!” she said proudly.

He took the paper from my hand and she opened it and glanced quickly at its contents.

On a sudden she broke into a bitter laugh.

“‘By my authority,’” she said, reading. She looked up, her eyes aflame. “We are indeed fallen low when we must obey the authority of such men as my Lord Danvers!—of Sir Richard Danvers, drunkard and libertine! That is how I treat his authority!” She tore the paper across and across and flung the pieces at her feet. “And now begone, sir!” she continued, pointing imperiously to the door. “Begone! you and your red-coated rabble!”

For a moment I was too astounded to speak, but I heard a low murmur from the men behind me, and the sound recalled me to myself.

“Certainly I will be going, madam,” I replied. “I could no longer stay in a house where so little respect is paid to the king’s authority. And I am not at all sure,” I continued slowly, “that I should be exceeding my duty if I were to arrest you also!”

“Arrest me?”

The words sprang from her lips in a tone of blank amazement, then she drew her queenly figure erect and gazed at me with such a tempest of wrath and scorn in her eyes as no words of mine can picture, and I saw her breast heave with the passion she strove in vain to control. I could well believe that never previously in all her life had she been so addressed.

“Certainly!” I answered harshly. “You seem to forget, madam,” I continued, pointing to the fragments of paper that lay between us, “that you have committed nothing short of treason in so destroying the king’s warrant. But I have no time to waste further words upon you!” I added rudely; for I saw how I could hurt her pride.

“The king’s authority!” she cried passionately. “The authority that sends such men as you to insult women! I would to God my servants had been present, for they should have flogged you, sir—flogged you from the village, and the ragged hirelings with you!”

I stood hand on hip not three paces from her, and I fixed my eyes insolently upon her lovely face.

“I do not doubt their willingness under your tuition, madam,” I answered coolly, “but only their ability to do so; for,” I continued slowly, as a coarse laugh broke from the men behind me, “if they are no better when it comes to blows than King James, whom they serve, of whose courage we have lately had an example beneath the walls of Derry, there would be more about them of flight than fight!”

For a moment she gazed at me with panting breath and quivering nostrils; then moved by my words beyond restraint:

“You liar!” she cried, and throwing into the words all her concentrated anger, before I could guess her purpose she raised the riding whip in her hand and struck me heavily across the face.

To this day I take it to my credit that no oath escaped my lips. A thin trickle of blood ran down my cheek. But ere she could repeat the blow I caught her wrist and so stood facing her while one might count a score.

What she read in my own eyes I know not, but in the depths of hers I read impotent passion, scorn, and hate, but not a trace of fear.

I loosened her wrist—even in my pain its soft touch thrilled me—and I stepped backwards, wiping the warm blood from my face.

“Madam,” I said very quietly, “one day I will repay you for that blow with tenfold interest!”

“Threats!” she answered scornfully, “and to a woman!”

I turned away.

“Monsieur,” I said to the marquis, who had stood a silent spectator of the scene, and still speaking in the same level tones, “if you are ready to accompany us, we will set out.”

“I am at your service,” he answered, taking a cloak from a chair in one corner of the room and wrapping himself in its folds. Then he advanced to the ladies to make his adieux.

“Farewell, madam,” he said, bowing with courtly grace to my lady, and raising her hand to his lips.

“M. de Launay,” she replied, “I can find no words to apologise for the insult offered you in this house.”

“Madame,” the marquis answered gallantly, “I beg that you will banish the episode from your memory.”

“That is impossible,” she said quickly. “That guest of ours should be so served, and to be powerless to prevent it! But say, rather, au revoir, monsieur,” she continued, with kindling eyes, “for I, too, shall ride to Exeter to-morrow, and will myself interview Sir Richard Danvers on your behalf! We shall see whether the name of Ingram does not still possess weight sufficient to annul this outrage and to punish the perpetrators!” And she shot a scornful glance in my direction.

“Very good, madam,” I answered, “only in that case I shall ride with you. I have no desire,” I continued with a sneer, “that my Lord Danvers should hear anything but the truth.”

“Then I pray you keep behind me, sir!” she replied haughtily. “I would not have you taken for lackey of mine!”

I made no reply to this. What reply could I make? Instead, I gave a sharp order and the troopers fell into place, the marquis in their midst. They filed through the open doorway with the clank of steel, and the tramp of their footsteps died away down the hall. I waited until the last one had left the room and then prepared to follow.

Once as I crossed the threshold I looked back, and the light fell upon the tall figure of my lady, her sister at her side, then the door closed upon the room and its inmates, and passing quickly through the hall, in which a little crowd of scared servants had gathered, I went out into the night. Outside, at the foot of the steps leading to the main entrance, I found the troopers waiting, the light from the open doorway shining upon their horses, my own amongst the number.

I bade one of the men give up his mount to the marquis, and collecting the men I had stationed upon the terrace, I climbed into the saddle, and so for the first time I left Cleeve.

The fog had collected somewhat, though it was still very dark, and the brightly lighted room from which we had come rendered the blackness that surrounded us more opaque.

For myself I was content to resign the lead to Cornet Graham and to follow behind the others with only my thoughts for company. And if ever there was all hell in a man’s heart, it was in mine that night.

For now that I was alone, now that I had no longer to keep up appearances, I gave way to the passion I had so far restrained. That I—I of all men, should be struck by a woman! And in public! As the thought of the men in front who had been witnesses of my disgrace recurred to me, I ground my teeth with anger and cursed this woman who had brought me to shame.

But bitterly, bitterly should she repent the blow! Oh, to hurt her! to humble her pride! to see her at my feet begging for mercy—and to refuse it! I gloated over the thought, and I swore in my heart that I would not spare her in the hour of my triumph one throb of the pain I was now enduring. She should drink the cup of my revenge to the bitterest dregs; and so taken up was I with these thoughts that it was not until I saw the lights in the windows of the houses on either side of me that I realised that we had reached the village.

I spurred forward then and overtook the troop in front. From the length of the street and the size of the houses I saw that the place was larger than I had been given to understand. Here and there, at the trampling of our horses’ feet, windows were opened, and dark figures appeared in the doorways, or ran out, heedless of the falling rain, into the street. But the sight of the troopers’ swarthy faces and of the hated uniform they wore drove them swiftly indoors again. For though it was June of the year 1690, and Dutch William had now been two years upon the throne, yet so great was the terror which the “Tangier devils” had inspired throughout the West, both in friend and foe alike, at the time of Monmouth’s ill-fated rebellion, that Catholics though the villagers were, they knew by past experience that these very troopers who had fought for James at Sedgemoor and elsewhere were now equally ready to plunder them as Papists and Jacobites in the name of William; and behind their barred doors there was many a one, I wot, that night who trembled for the loss of such goods as he possessed and for the safety of his women folk.

At the end of the street the cornet turned sharply to the right and entered a square courtyard, at the opposite side of which stood an old-fashioned inn.

A blaze of light came from its windows, through one of which could be distinguished the dark figures of the troopers of De Brito’s party. We drew rein before the door, and almost ere we could dismount the landlord stood upon the steps.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said, bowing. “What is your pleasure?”

He was a round-faced, portly man, with an air somewhat above that of the keeper of a country inn. There was a nameless something about him that told me he had at one time been a soldier.

“You can find room for us to-night, I suppose?” I answered.

“Well,” he replied slowly, “my rooms are small, but if a couple of lofts——”

“That will do for us,” the sergeant said gruffly. “Better a board than six feet of earth on such a night.”

“Aye, and good liquor in plenty to soften it,” cried a trooper, and the men laughed.

“You shall find no complaint with that, I promise you,” said the landlord. “There are wines to suit all tastes, and as for my cider, ’tis second to none in all Devonshire.”

“To the devil with your cider!” said a trooper roughly. “Give us brandy, hot, and of the best, if you would keep this hen coop from being burned round your ears!”

“And a pretty wench to serve it!” cried another.

“As you please, gentlemen! As you please!” the landlord hastened to say. “None should know better than I how to treat you. I have cognac here—the best out of France. But come inside, gentlemen, and my men shall look to your horses.” He turned and led the way indoors.

In a square, stone-paved room on the right of the passage we found De Brito’s troopers, a plentiful supply of ale upon the low tables before them, who greeted their comrades with boisterous shouts of welcome.

“Would it not be advisable, monsieur, to seek another apartment?” said M. de Launay. “Your men are gallant fellows, but save on the field of battle, I prefer them at a distance.”

“By all means,” I answered. “You have another room?” I said, turning to the landlord.

“This way,” he replied, leading me, closely followed by Cornet Graham and the marquis, down a narrow, low-ceilinged passage.

“You have seen service yourself?” I said sharply.

“Aye, years ago,” he replied briefly. “I fought for the Swede.”

He stopped before a door upon the left, and with many apologies for his lack of space, ushered us into what proved to be the kitchen of the inn. It was a large room well stocked with articles pertaining to its character. Here a row of brightly polished pans, there a score of reeves of onions, while from a hook in one corner hung a well-cured ham.

Before a great fire of logs De Brito was sitting, a leather flask and tankard upon a table at his side, to the former of which I saw he had been paying liberal attention. He looked up as we entered.

“So you’ve come at last,” he said thickly. “Landlord, bring glasses for these gentlemen, and more brandy. What the devil!” he broke off suddenly, catching sight of my face. “Did the dove turn out to be a hawk, after all? Well, she has not marred your beauty!” and he laughed insolently.

But I could brook no more.

All the passion that was smouldering in my heart flashed into sudden flame.

“Curse you!” I cried, and I caught the tankard from the table and flung the contents in his face; then, drawing my sword, I placed myself on guard.

He dashed the liquor from his eyes (it had been half full of the raw spirit) and sprang to his feet with a furious oath.

But he had reckoned without his cost. Even as he snatched his blade from the table where he had laid it the fumes of the brandy that he had been drinking heavily mounted to his brain. He staggered forward, his knees gave way under him, and he fell to the floor, where he lay, unable to rise.

I sheathed my sword, and turning on my heel, left the room. In the passage I encountered the landlord returning, a tray of glasses in his hand. He readily agreed to my request to be shown some chamber where I could sleep, and lighting a candle, he led me up a narrow flight of stairs and stopped before a door upon the landing.

“It is small,” he said doubtfully, entering the room, “and there is but room for one.”

“So much the better,” I answered, for I wished to be alone with my thoughts. I took the candle from his hand, therefore, and with a few directions as to the disposal of M. de Launay and upon other matters, I bade him “good-night.”

I stood for a moment at the open door. From the troopers below came a confused babel of oaths and laughter, mingled with the clatter of cups. Then, closing the door and shooting the bolt behind me, I pulled off my coat and heavy riding boots and threw myself, dressed as I was, upon the couch. And there for hours I lay, planning my great revenge, whilst ever before my eyes was my lady’s proud face as I had last seen it, alight with scorn. It was far into the night and the noises from the rooms below had long since died away when I finally dropped into the sleep of utter exhaustion.

CHAPTER IV
OF MY LADY’S MISSION TO EXETER

The first streaks of dawn were lightening the chamber when I awoke to a consciousness of my surroundings. I sprang from my couch with faculties alert, for I am, as a rule, but a light sleeper. It is a legacy that, with others, has been bequeathed to me by many a campaign in foreign lands, when often a man’s life might hang upon the sharpness of his wits and his power of decision at a moment’s notice under any circumstances.

I crossed the room to the window and looked out through its tiny latticed panes.

Mist, mist everywhere, and so thick that I could barely distinguish the courtyard of the inn below.

Ere donning my coat and boots I made shift to cleanse them in so far as possible from the mud stains of the previous day and to make such poor means of a toilet as the room afforded. It was in doing this that I accidentally caught sight of myself in a little square of cracked glass that hung upon the wall beside the window.

Across my brow ran a purple weal, terminating in a great bruise of black and yellow, where my lady’s whip had fallen, and at sight of the discoloured flesh my rage against her broke out anew.

I buckled on my sword with a grim smile. She had yet to learn whether she could beat me like a hound with impunity. Downstairs in the hall I found the landlord already up, who greeted me with a cheery “good-morning.”

I questioned him closely as to the road, and found, as I expected, that the one running down the valley was the direct road to Exeter, which lay to the north, some thirty miles distant.

On my inquiring further for Cornet Graham, he led me once more to the kitchen. Upon one side of the open fireplace I found the cornet asleep in an old-fashioned, leather-covered chair. On a table near, a pack of greasy cards and a couple of empty wine flasks betokened the means that he and the marquis had taken to while away some portion of the night, and testified to the good fellowship existing between them. It was not without difficulty that I awoke the cornet sufficiently to understand my orders. For the fatigues of the previous day, combined with the effects of the potations he had freely imbibed, still lay heavily upon his brain.

He sat up at last, his eyes dull and heavy with sleep. I explained briefly to him my intentions, and bade him follow with as little loss of time as possible, and I then drew a chair to the table and sat down to a light meal that the landlord speedily laid out for me.

My hunger satisfied, I rose from my seat and bade him show me where my horse was stalled.

He hesitated for a moment.

“But my bill!” he said slowly.

“As to that,” I answered, “we ride upon the king’s service, so you would do well to present it to my Lord Danvers, at Exeter. You do not think that I shall pay it, man!” I cried sharply, as he still hesitated. And I smiled to myself at the thought of the few broad pieces remaining in my pocket.

“For that matter,” I continued significantly, “be content that you possess a whole skin to-day. It is more than others of your trade have lived to boast of. And now, my horse!”

He muttered something under his breath, and turning on his heel, led the way down the passage. As we passed the main room of the inn I glanced through the open door.

The tables were overturned and I saw the bodies of three, at least, of the troopers still lying upon the floor, amid a litter of broken glass, in a drunken slumber. The room and passage reeked vilely with tobacco, so that it was a relief to step out into the courtyard and breathe the cool morning air.

The landlord crossed the yard, and at his call a sleepy hostler came yawning from one of the stables. It was but the work of a minute to slip the saddle upon the back of my horse, and then I mounted, and with a final wave of the hand rode out of the inn.

Once the village was behind me, I broke into a canter, and the cool morning breeze, redolent of the sea, sang past my ears. The birds were waking in the hedgerows, filling the summer morning with their harmony; a little stream by the wayside rippled merrily amongst the pebbles, and every leaf and flower, sparkling with the night’s rain, reared their heads joyously to greet the first rays of the sun as they struggled through the mist, which had so far dispelled that I could plainly distinguish objects fifty feet distant.

There was a peacefulness brooding upon the country, a restful repose in the quiet air, to which, fresh from the narrow streets and reeking kennels of London, I had long been a stranger. I became absorbed in the contemplation of the unwonted sights around me, until a sudden throb of pain across my brow recalled me to myself and I fell to taking council of the anger in my heart.

I had ridden thus for some half mile, the roadway slightly ascending, before I came on my right to the gates leading to Cleeve Manor. They were wide open and were supported on either side by massive pillars, surmounted by a pair of couchant lions carved in stone, and beneath these the arms of the Ingram family.

Within the gates a broad avenue, flanked on either side by majestic oaks and beeches, stretched away into the mist.

I drew rein at the entrance, and there I was fain to wait, for I did not consider it likely that my lady had yet set out, and I had determined that I would not again approach the house in my present state, to become a mark for the prying eyes of every serving wench.

It may have been the half of an hour that I waited thus, when the sound of hoofs ringing on the gravel surface of the avenue broke on my ear, and a minute later the horses and their riders came into sight. There were four in all of the latter.

In front, mounted upon the chestnut mare I had last seen in the stable, rode my lady. She was dressed in the same grey-velvet costume she had worn the night previous and her face was partially concealed by a riding mask of black silk. At her side rode the steward, a loose scarf around his neck. But my eyes were fixed upon the third member of the party, and there remained. He was, I think, the biggest man that I have ever seen. Mounted though he was, the massiveness of his head and build and the breadth of his shoulders all bespoke a man far above the ordinary proportions. Seen through the veil of mist, horse and man appeared gigantic. As for the other member of the party riding by his side, he was little more than a youth, and might have been a groom or under stable hand.

I reined my horse to one side of the gateway, at the same time pressing my hat upon my brow, for I was not desirous that my lady should see her handiwork. Yet even then, so great is the force of habit, that when she had arrived opposite me my hand went instinctively to the brim, but recollecting myself in time, I bowed low in my saddle instead.

But she did not look at me.

With head erect, she passed me by, her servants at her heels, and set off down the road at a brisk canter.

I fell into place about a dozen yards behind, and I now had leisure to scan them more closely.

I saw that the three men were fully armed, not only with a brace of pistols in their holsters, but also that each one carried a serviceable looking rapier at his side.

I noticed, too, that my lady sat her steed with the grace and ease of a born horsewoman. From time to time she conversed shortly with the steward at her side, but she never turned her head, and I suppose that she had given her orders to the men behind her, for the whole party rode without taking any notice as to whether I followed or not. We had ridden thus for a distance of some five miles, when my lady turned sharply to the left along a narrow track running between the torrs. For a moment I drew rein at the entrance, and I confess I hesitated. The way was but wide enough to admit of riding in single file, and I would have wished to have had Cornet Graham and the troopers at my heels. But in a moment I pulled myself together. After all, what had I to fear, or what benefit would it be to M. de Launay should they see fit to attack me? Tush! that I, the best sword in the low countries, should be afraid of three assailants, even though one proved to be a giant.

I loosened my sword in its sheath, saw that my pistols were to my hand, and spurred after the party in front. They should not find me unprepared if it came to blows.

On either side of the track rose the bare hillside, shutting out the view of what lay beyond. A more desolate path, extending as it did for more than a mile, could hardly be imagined. But my lady held on her way without faltering, and presently the track came out upon the road again, and I saw that we had but taken a short cut, and so saved ourselves several miles.

Of the rest of our journey to Exeter one incident only stands out in my memory. It was at noon, and the mist had long since vanished from the face of the country, giving place to a sky of cloudless blue and the shimmering heat of the midday sun. We had reached a little village, the name of which I have long since forgotten, and halted at the quaint, old-fashioned inn, above the doorway of which ran an inscription informing the world that it was built by one Robert Havell in the year 1542, “Who mayde a journie to London.” Doubtless no mean undertaking in those days.

And here my lady dismounted and entered the one parlour the inn could boast of. But as for me, I was content to seat myself upon a bench against the wall without, where I could keep an eye upon her servants, for I thought it not unlikely that they might tamper with my horse, to which a youth was now attending. If they had any such intention in their minds, however, my resolute attitude and the sight of the pistols I had placed ostentatiously at my side must have deterred them from making the attempt, for they seated themselves at some little distance and fell to upon the food which the landlord presently placed before us, occasionally varying this performance by staring at me, the steward with menacing hate, and the big man with a lowering gaze that showed me how willingly they would have attempted to have rid themselves of me but for my lady’s presence.

It was to the latter of the two men that the landlord paid most attention, waiting upon him with a deference that his station seemed scarcely to warrant. Accordingly, when I had finished, I rose from my seat, and beckoning the landlord on one side, demanded who the man was.

He looked at me in undisguised astonishment.

“What?” he cried. “You do not know him? I thought that every one knew Sampson Dare!”

I knew the man then. It was a name to conjure with throughout all Devon. For this was the champion wrestler of the West, whose fame had reached even as far as London itself, where he had twice appeared to show his skill before the late king, and accounted generally to be the strongest man in England. I knew, also, that should ever I come to close quarters with such a man my strength would be of as little more value to me than that of a child.

Presently my lady came forth again, and the horses were led round to the door, and here it was that the incident I have mentioned occurred.

In mounting my steed I had the misfortune to loosen my hat, which fell off and rolled at the others’ feet.

“My hat, fellow,” I cried sharply to the youth whom I had taken to be a groom, and who was nearest to it.

He looked at me for a moment, but he did not offer to stoop.

“I am not your man,” he answered insolently. “Pick it up for yourself. You will need it to shield your face,” he added with a grin.

I flung a curse at him, but there was no other help for it but to do as he said, for the landlord had gone indoors. I was compelled to dismount, therefore, and it needed but the light contemptuous laugh that came from my lady’s lips to inflame afresh my anger against her, which grew steadily with every hour that we rode beneath the burning summer sun.

We crossed the Teign above Newton Abbott, and continued our way by means of the old Roman Road up the beautiful valley of the Exe. The sun was low down in the west and the shadows were lengthening on the grass when the massive towers of the cathedral at Exeter came into sight, and beneath them the smoke cloud that hung above the city in the still evening air. We crossed the bridge over the river and entered the gates, and at the commencement of the High Street I left the others to ride forward, and turning my horse into a side thoroughfare, made my way along the less crowded streets to a large house standing in a quiet square not far distant from the cathedral, for I knew that it was here, if anywhere, that I should find my Lord Danvers. The house itself was inhabited by one Mistress Maddon, who had at one time been upon the stage, but who, having married from thence a wealthy merchant of the city of London, had in the course of a few years reduced him to the verge of ruin by her extravagance. Upon this she had fled incontinently with Sir Richard Danvers, and had come to Exeter two years previously, where she flaunted it before the town, to the no small scandal of the city dignitaries and their ladies. Nay, the scandal was notorious throughout the West.

I dismounted before the house, and flinging my reins to a beggar loitering near, ascended the steps.

The door was opened by a gorgeously dressed lackey in a livery of scarlet.

“Sir Richard Danvers is here?” I said sharply.

He stared superciliously at my travel-stained appearance.

“My lord is indeed present,” he replied loftily, “but his hours for transacting business are over for the day.” And he made as though to shut the door in my face.

But I was too quick for him. With a thrust of my foot I sent it open again and stepped quickly past him into the hall.

“Not so fast,” I said coolly. “My business is too urgent to admit of further delay, and you can so tell your master.”

He looked at me for a moment with an air of outraged dignity.

“Impossible that you can be admitted,” he said stiffly. “His lordship is dining.”

“Nevertheless, I must see him,” I answered grimly. “And I am on the king’s service, my friend. It occurs to me, therefore, that you will do well to announce me without further waste of time if you would save yourself present trouble.”

I suppose that there was a look in my eyes that showed him I was not a man to be trifled with, for without more ado he noiselessly crossed the hall and ushered me into a richly furnished room, where he left me to my own devices.

I have said that the apartment was richly furnished, but a second scrutiny convinced me of the error of my first impression. The light of the setting sun flaming through the windows fell upon the heavy gilt furniture and mirrors, the Oriental carpets and hangings, serving but to increase their appearance of general gaudiness. There was that, indeed, about the whole which bespoke a certain amount of wealth, but of wealth coupled with ill taste. I contrasted the room with that other one at Cleeve which I had so lately left, and it was to the latter’s distinct advantage. For the rest, opposite me was a door, half concealed by a thick curtain, and near the hearth stood a small table littered with papers, and upon which lay a man’s hat and riding gloves. It may have been ten minutes that I waited thus impatiently, keeping an eye upon the street without, ere the door behind me opened and a woman entered the room.

It needed but a glance to assure me that this was the Mistress Maddon, and she was well in keeping, both in dress and appearance, with her surroundings.

Doubtless she had at one time been handsome in a bold, masculine way, but she was now past her prime, and the resources of art could not conceal the ravages of time. Nay, if anything, they tended rather to increase them. On a sudden a vision of my lady rose before my eyes, and I gazed on the smirking, beruddled face of the woman before me with a sense of deepening disgust.

She was the first to break the silence.

“You wish to see Sir Richard Danvers?” she said, advancing.

“Such is my desire, madam,” I answered, bowing.

“And one which I fear cannot be gratified,” she replied, “for ’tis his Lordship’s invariable custom to sleep after dining.”

In spite of her smooth words, I was not satisfied, for my eyes, travelling past her, happened to rest upon the curtain which covered the other doorway, and I saw it move.

Decidedly, the door behind it had been opened. Accordingly I raised my voice.

“Then I pray you to awake him, madam,” I answered, “for the business I have to discharge is urgent.”

“What is your business?” she said sharply.

“Madam,” I answered coolly, “I regret that it is for his ears alone.”

She bit her lip with vexation.

“Or, to be plain, sir,” she replied, “you will not tell me?” and she tapped her foot impatiently upon the floor.

“If you so put it, madam,” I said bluntly.

She looked at me with a gathering frown. “You need not fear to trust me, sir,” she answered quickly. “My lord has no secrets that I do not share.”

“But I am not his lordship,” I retorted with a faint sneer. “Therefore I pray you to hold me excused, especially as it is connected with affairs of state.”

“Oh, ’tis upon a matter of state you come?” she cried in a surprised tone.

“If a document signed by the Privy Council itself can be rightly so termed, madam,” I answered dryly.

“Then you are not Colonel Overton?” she said hastily.

I looked at her in unfeigned astonishment. I suppose she saw the answer written on my face.

“Ah, I see that you are not,” she added.

“I am certainly not Colonel Overton,” I replied, at a loss for her meaning.

“Nor come on his behalf?” she persisted.

“So little, madam,” I answered, “that I do not even know the name of the gentleman you mention.”

To my surprise she gave a short laugh.

“Had you given us your name and the nature of your business at first, sir, you might have saved yourself this delay,” she said abruptly. Then raising her voice:

“You can come in, my lord,” she cried. “It is not Colonel Overton.”

At this the curtain was drawn aside, and a man whom I recognised from description to be Sir Richard Danvers himself entered the room. I looked at him with some curiosity. There was little remaining of the grace of manner and personal beauty that in his younger days had made him a companion of the gay and witty Charles II. of that name, as his total unscrupulousness had equally endeared him to the late king. In age he was at this time nearing fifty, and his clean-shaven face bore the traces of a career of dissipation. His cravat was loosened, and I noticed the stain of wine upon his velvet coat.

He came forward with a somewhat shamefaced air.

“Curse me!” he cried, “I am glad of it. It would seem that there is some mistake. I owe you a thousand apologies, sir, for keeping you waiting. ’Tis the fault of the blockhead who admitted you. I took you for a gentleman to whom I lost somewhat heavily at cards last evening. You will understand it is not always convenient to pay. But I do not think that I have your name?”

“I am Captain Cassilis, of the Tangier Horse,” I answered.

He looked at me, frowning; then, with a sudden interest in his heavy eyes:

“Cassilis? Cassilis, the swordsman?” he cried.

I bowed low in acknowledgment. It seemed that my reputation had preceded me.

“If you will remember, my lord,” I continued, “I was charged yesterday with the arrest of the Marquis de Launay, at Cleeve.”

“I did indeed sign a document to that effect,” he replied, “but I was unaware that you were the officer to whom the task was entrusted.”

He drew a chair to the table, scattering the papers from the latter with a sweep of his hand.

“Proceed, sir,” he continued brusquely. “You succeeded in arresting this gentleman?”

“He should be in Exeter to-night, my lord,” I answered; “and——”

“One moment, captain,” he interrupted. “Pardon me my forgetfulness. You have had a long ride and a dusty one. Let us have wine, Nell, for talking is cursedly thirsty work, and of business, thirstier!”

“Not for me, my lord,” I said hastily; “my errand——”

“Can wait,” he answered. “Tush, man! You will talk all the readier. I have wine here that would unloose any tongue.” And he threw himself back in his chair.

I cursed him inwardly for the delay, for at this moment I distinctly caught the faint clatter of horses’ hoofs in the street below. I was obliged to wait, however, until the woman had brought a bottle and glasses from a carved oaken cabinet and placed them upon the table before him. My lord filled the glasses with a slightly trembling hand.

“Ha!” he said, “this is wine of the best, captain. None of your light French wines, this! I bought it of Rochester himself. And damn me! I should know a good wine when I see one. None better.”

I looked at the face of the man before me, and in my own mind I fully coincided with his opinion.

“I drink to the success of your mission, sir,” he continued.

“With all my heart,” I answered.

He drained his glass at a draught, but as for me, I was content to be more moderate, for the wine was of the strongest.

“And now to your tale, captain,” he said, refilling his glass.

I waited no longer, but plunged briefly into a recital of the events of the previous day, omitting only that portion that related to the bruise upon my forehead. Once Mistress Maddon interrupted me.

“And this Lady Ingram,” she said contemptuously, “you have seen her? Is she as beautiful as they say?”

“She is very beautiful, madam,” I answered quietly.

Despite my hatred of her, I could be no less than candid. Once, too, when I came to the account of how she had served the royal warrant, my lord swore a great oath and half rose from his seat; but he sank back again and did not interrupt me. In the momentary silence that followed the conclusion of my story I caught the sound of voices in the hall without; nay, I even thought that I could distinguish my lady’s imperious tones.

Suddenly my lord leaned forward.

“But there was resistance?” he said, scanning my face.

I felt my brow burn.

“Nothing of any consequence, my lord,” I answered carelessly.

“Ha!” he cried; “I have been too lenient hitherto. And here—here,” he continued, taking a paper from the table before him, “is an order from the Council urging more stringent measures. Should James succeed in Ireland, Louis will land an army on the coast—’tis more than likely here, in Devon. Tourville, with the French fleet, is in the channel. Parliament is distracted. Spies everywhere. Burn me!” he cried with sudden rage, “they shall not complain of my remissness, and I will begin here. I would that I had to deal with this woman!”

“In that case, my lord,” I said, “your wish may be speedily gratified, for Lady Ingram is herself in Exeter for the express purpose of waiting upon your lordship.”

“Say you so?” he replied with an ugly frown. “Then I will see her. And curse me! she shall have cause to remember it.”

“But not here,” Mistress Maddon cried suddenly. “Let her carry her complaints elsewhere—to London, if she pleases! She shall not come here!”

“Shall not?” my lord cried angrily. “She shall come here, or elsewhere, as I choose, madam! Remember, I am master of this house—and what you are!” he added brutally.

“You do well to remind me of that,” she answered bitterly; “but she does not enter whilst I am here.”

“What, jealous?” my lord cried sneeringly. “Sink me! ’tis a good jest that. The little Maddon jealous!” And he laughed coarsely.

“I have so much reason to be jealous, have I not?” the woman answered contemptuously. “Nevertheless,” she continued, “this fine madam shall not enter the house.”

I caught the sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Then I fear in that case, madam, that you are too late,” I said quickly.

She turned to me in sudden surprise.

“Too late? And why, sir?” she cried.

“Too late, madam,” I answered firmly, “for I think that the answer is here.”

Even as I spoke the door was thrown wide open and my lady stood upon the threshold.

It was my lady, still wearing her riding mask. Over her shoulder I caught a glimpse of the lackey’s scared face.

For a moment she stood in the doorway, and I saw her slightly start as her eyes encountered mine; evidently she had not expected my presence. Then she entered the room.

It would be hard to say whether my lord or Mistress Maddon was the more surprised at her appearance. Nevertheless, it was the woman who first recovered herself.

“This is an unexpected honour, madam,” she said, advancing. “The business must surely be urgent that brings your ladyship as far as Exeter on such a day!”

My lady stepped back, drawing her skirts together with a slight gesture of repulsion as cruel as it was intentional. I saw that she was fully acquainted with the scandal attached to this woman’s name.

“The business must indeed be urgent that brings me here,” she answered scornfully.

“Where you come a self-invited guest,” Mistress Maddon replied quickly. “But of course your ladyship has been to Court, and doubtless you have been taught manners which less favoured persons cannot hope to imitate.”

“Including even a sense of shame,” my lady answered icily.

I saw the woman before her redden beneath her rouge.

“Indeed!” she retorted sneeringly. “But perhaps your ladyship needed to be instructed in the lesson. It does not come readily to every one of our sex.”

“To some, never,” my lady replied in the same icy tone, and I saw her eyes flash behind her mask. “But I have had so little experience of how to treat such women!”

“Oh,” Mistress Maddon cried, “you have a keen wit, madam, have you not? ’Tis a pleasure to converse with you. Will your ladyship condescend to be seated?”

“I prefer to stand,” my lady replied haughtily. She turned to the man, who still sat silent at the table.

“Sir Richard Danvers,” she cried, “I presume you have already heard from the lips of this gentleman a version of the story that brings me to Exeter?” and she shot a glance replete with scorn at where I stood. “I demand to know,” she continued proudly, “by what right do you arrest a guest residing in my house?”

Her words aroused my lord.

“And I demand, madam, that you remove your mask!” he replied.

My lady drew herself erect.

“Is this necessary, sir?” she said coldly.

“If we are to continue the conversation, madam,” my lord answered, “I prefer that it should be face to face.”

“Or if you have scruples, madam,” Mistress Maddon, who was standing near to the window, cried suddenly, “I notice that your ladyship’s servants grow impatient.”

With a sudden passionate gesture my lady tore the riding mask from her face and flung it from her.

“Are you satisfied, sir?” she cried with flashing eyes, in the depths of which I read all the scorn of her surroundings, all the loathing of the people in whose presence she was. And as I gazed at where she stood, with the dying sunlight falling on her graceful figure and turning the masses of her hair to burnished gold, surely, I told myself, never had I seen so fearless a lady nor so fair a face.

And could there be a greater contrast than that afforded by the two women before me? The one so proud and pure, so rich in all the noblest qualities endowing womanhood, the other with the glamour of passion long since decayed, leaving but the barren busk of sin in its train.

I glanced at my lord. As he gazed upon her beauty, into his eyes there crept a look such as I had seen upon men’s faces before.

“Of what measure of truth there was in the story told you I do not seek to learn,” my lady continued proudly. “But I demand the immediate release of M. de Launay as the least reparation you can offer for the outrage committed by this man, whose very presence in my house was an insult, and was resented by me as such.”

Unconsciously I raised my hand to my forehead, but my lady’s quick eyes noted the movement, for she turned upon me suddenly and added: “And I think, sir, that you will not easily conceal the mark of my resentment.”

I stood before her and I was dumb. That she should mock me—and before strangers. How I hated her in that moment! I was about to stammer something in reply when my lord sprang to his feet and struck the table before him with his clenched hand.

“Demand? Reparation?” he cried, with sudden passion. “By G——, madam, you go too far! But I shall know how to deal with you—as I have the authority.” And he snatched the paper he had previously shown me from the table.

“Have a care, my lord,” Mistress Maddon cried maliciously. “Remember the fate of the other document. It would seem that her ladyship has a predeliction for destroying that which does not belong to her.”

“Ha! you are right, Nell,” my lord cried, his brow black with passion. “You defy the king’s authority, do you, madam?” he continued, “and beat the king’s officers? Well, ’tis known to us that your part of the county is disaffected, that your house is a centre for Jacobite meetings and a harbourage for their agents. Were it not for urgent affairs here I would visit you myself. As that is impossible, I will tell you what I will do, madam. I will send such a force to Cleeve as shall effectually quench all sparks of rebellion there. Aye, and I will find the right man to set over it to deal with you.”

“And the very man you desire is here—here to your hand!” and Mistress Maddon pointed full at me with her fan.

As I thought of all the possibilities her words carried, of the opportunities of repaying to my lady the shame I had suffered at her hands, my heart beat more rapidly and the breath came quicker from my lips. Here was revenge, indeed!

“Sink me!” my lord cried, “but you are a clever one, Nell. Captain Cassilis, you have no cause to love this lady. What say you? Will you be this man? You shall have full power over their lives—and bodies!” he added with a leer.

“That I accept, my lord,” I cried quickly. “And I will answer for it,” I continued between my set teeth and with a glance of triumph at my lady, “that your lordship shall have no trouble there whilst I am in command!”

“I am well assured of it,” he replied, with a short laugh.

“And I—I will appeal against this outrage,” my lady cried quickly.

“Appeal to the—queen, an you will, madam,” he answered rudely. “Though, distracted as she is with fears for her husband’s safety in Ireland, I scarcely think that she will interfere on behalf of those who are his active enemies. To the Council! Proclaim yourself a Papist and see what consideration you will meet with at their hands. No, no, I give you credit for more sense, madam,” he continued; “and I trust that you will take this lesson to heart.”

“And I trust,” Mistress Maddon cried ironically, “that your ladyship has suffered no hurt through entering this house! Perhaps for the future, my lady, you will learn a little more experience of how to treat ‘such women!’”

And she swept her a mocking curtesy.

My lady was beaten, and she knew it.

In that moment I could almost have found it in my heart to pity her. Yet she spoke no word.

For a moment, indeed, she stood gazing at the woman before her with a look of unutterable scorn, then she turned upon her heel.

I sprang to the door and flung it wide. “Permit me to be your lackey, madam, for this occasion,” I cried sneeringly, “until I can appear as your master—at Cleeve!”

CHAPTER V
OF HOW THREE GENTLEMEN OF DEVON DRANK THE KING’S HEALTH

An hour later, when I left the house, I carried in my breast a sealed document giving me the fullest powers of acting, both in Cleeve and the surrounding district, against “all Papists and adherents of the man James Stuart; being enemies of his Majesty, King William, and of the peace of this realm.” Moreover, I had received an order from my lord upon the treasury—which had been duly paid me by his secretary—that had lined my pockets with gold pieces, to defray all such disbursements as should be necessary to bring M. de Launay to London. For the express orders of the Privy Council were that the marquis should be treated with all courtesy until such time as he should be delivered into the custody of the governor of the Tower, that grim and ill-omened fortress, at present crowded with the partisans, real or suspected, of the base and despicable James; amongst the most noteworthy of whom were the Earl of Shrewsbury and the Queen’s uncle, Clarendon.

Also I carried a letter from his lordship to the Earl of Nottingham, Secretary of State, praying him to send a regiment or two into Devonshire; for with the exception of the Tangier Horse there were no regular troops nearer to Exeter than Bristol or Plymouth. And even now, in consequence of a riot arising out of a drunken brawl, my lord had been compelled, at the urgent demands of the most influential citizens, to send the regiment out of the city; whence they had marched the day before as far as Exmouth, so great was the fear inspired by their licentiousness.

I saw, therefore, that I should have little more assistance to rely on than that of my own troop—amounting in all to sixty men—which still lay in De Brito’s charge at Cleeve. And with this force I had to overawe the district and patrol the coast from Start Bay to Teignmouth.

Accordingly, armed with this commission for the present, and with the prospect of revenge upon my lady in the near future, I rode slowly through a network of narrow alleys to the Castle and Falcon, a respectable hostelry in the High Street; for it was here that I had told Cornet Graham to look for me.

It was not, however, until fully two hours later that I heard the tramping of horse in the street without.

I made my way to the door and found the landlord already upon the steps, the landlady, a buxom woman, at his side.

It was, indeed, the cornet and his prisoner. Behind them came an escort of six troopers. The whole party dismounted before the inn.

“Ha, M. Cassilis!” the marquis cried, catching sight of me, “confess that you were growing anxious! Did you not think that I had knocked my estimable guard upon the head?”

“When I had your word of honour, M. de Launay?” I said, smiling. “But I fear you have had but a weary journey.”

“By no means,” he answered lightly. “I have been admiring your Devon scenery, which is only excelled,” he added gallantly, “by the beauty of its women!”

And he made a bow to the pretty landlady, who smiled and blushed in return, worthy of the Court of the Grand Monarque from whence he came.

I could see that the cornet was burning with curiosity to hear my story; but it was not until we had fully supped that the marquis rose to his feet.

“If I have your permission, gentlemen,” he said, bowing, “I think that I will retire.”

“So soon, monsieur?” the cornet cried. “The night is young yet. Will you not take your revenge for your losses of yesterday?”

“I beg that you will hold me excused,” he answered, with a deprecating gesture. “I am feeling somewhat fatigued, and there is a long journey ahead. I should prefer, therefore, to seek my couch, if my good friend the host will conduct me hither!” And with a courteous bow he left the room.

When the door had closed upon him I drew my chair again to the table and gave the cornet an account of what had passed in my interview with Sir Richard Danvers. He listened throughout in silence.

Only when I had finished: “What a woman!” he said admiringly.

I knew of whom he spoke.

Suddenly he reached out his hand and raised his glass. “I will give you a toast, captain,” he cried. “To the health of Lady Ingram!”

“Aye,” I answered grimly; following his example, “to the next meeting between us!”

Our arrival in London excited little curiosity, so common at this time was the sight of a suspected Jacobite being taken to Newgate or the Tower. In the city itself we found the wildest rumours afloat. William had been totally defeated in Ireland! Tourville with the French fleet had entered the Thames! Whilst at the first sound of his guns the Papists were to rise and commence a general massacre!

These and a hundred other reports equally alarming were greedily swallowed by the panic-stricken citizens. It was not without real regret at parting with the marquis that we arrived at length at the gate of the Tower facing Tower Hill; for throughout the journey he had proved a most entertaining companion. And though his air of assumed gaiety did not deceive me as to the secret anxiety he felt beneath it, yet he was a man who had travelled much and could readily adapt himself to the manners of the people with whom he was in company. I doubt not that at Versailles he would have been as stately a courtier as with us he was bon camarade.

The daylight was fast dying when, in answer to my summons, the gate was at length opened by a surly warder. And the usual formalities having been complied with, I handed over the body of M. de Launay into the custody of the lieutenant of the Tower.

“Adieu,” I said at parting, taking the marquis’s proffered hand. “And I trust, monsieur, that you will speedily regain your liberty.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows what evil fate lies before us!” he answered lightly. “To-day, M. Cassilis, you are a free man, a good horse beneath you, a sword at your side. To-morrow, you may be—married!” And he disappeared into the gloom of the gate-house.

I gave the word, and we turned our horses’ heads and rode slowly back to the Bull Tavern in Cheapside, where we put up for the night. On the morrow I dismissed the cornet and his men with instructions to make all speed in returning to Cleeve; and then with my lord’s letter in my breast I set out through the city to deliver it to the Earl of Nottingham.

In every square and open space the citizens were drilling, whilst many of the shops and houses were barricaded as if to withstand a siege, in expectation of the arrival of the French. The earl dismissed my lord’s petition very curtly, with a promise of some Dutch troops who were arriving shortly from The Hague. And with this promise I was forced to be content.

Three days afterwards I was back in the capital of the West; and I stayed but to give his Grace of Nottingham’s message to my Lord Danvers, and the next day set out southwards.

It was evening when I found myself riding down the valley road within a mile of Cleeve; and I will confess that at every step that brought me nearer the house my heart beat more rapidly. How would my lady greet me! What would she say to me, or I to her? It was in thinking such thoughts as these and in picturing my welcome that I arrived at length at the entrance gates and saw that which brought me to a sudden halt.

In the earlier part of the day there had been a heavy storm, and the torrents of rain that had then fallen had softened the gravel surface of the avenue. Upon this surface were the marks of many horses’ hoofs, and they all led in the direction of the house.

I dismounted and examined them more closely. The prints were fresh—not more than half an hour old; and I speedily came to the conclusion that it was not De Brito or any of his party, for these horses were shod in a manner different to that of the troopers’ animals, such as the one I bestrode.

Who, then, were these men, and for what purpose had they come to Cleeve? Was my lady engaged in some desperate scheme to assist the Stuart cause?

Clearly it was incumbent upon me to discover. I turned aside, therefore, within the gates and led my horse through the thick undergrowth to some little distance from the road, and there left him; and I then made my way cautiously through the trees that lined the avenue on either side to a spot from which I obtained a sight of the front of the house, which as yet I had only viewed by night.

Seen by daylight, it was an old grey stone residence, long and low; part of which, I subsequently found, dated back to the reign of the first Tudor sovereign; though that portion of it that was nearest to me had been added by the present earl. In front of the house lay a broad stretch of green turf; and upon this, beneath a wide spreading oak, a dozen horses were tethered. At some little distance from these lounged a group of six or eight serving men in conversation with the steward, whom I easily recognised again, and who carried a large flagon in his hand. I scanned the front of the house closely, but there appeared no sign of life in its narrow mullioned windows. If I would obtain further information as to my lady’s guests, clearly I must seek for it elsewhere.

I turned on my heel, therefore, and made a wide detour through the trees, coming out at length at the back of the house. The house itself and the broad terrace that ran behind it lay a little to my left, and I saw with satisfaction that the windows nearest to me were lighted up, and though I could not from my position see the interior of the room itself, yet I felt that here, if anywhere, was to be found the key of that which was to me at present a mystery.

Concealing myself, therefore, in the deep shadow afforded by a green mass of laurels, I set myself patiently to wait until such time as I could approach the house nearer with less risk of discovery. And fortunately for my purpose the night was a dark one. Over the manor roof a crescent moon hung low down in the heavens, but such light as it afforded was shed upon the front of the house, and the shadow fell the deeper upon the broad terrace before me.

When it was as I judged sufficiently dark to make the attempt, I stole across the grass, and softly crossing the terrace, I gained the shadow of the house itself. Along this I cautiously made my way, cursing my heavy boots, that at every step I took grated harshly upon the gravel walk. Presently I came to a halt. Twenty paces away, the light from the nearest window fell in a broad white patch upon the terrace, shining with a ghostly radiance upon the low wall opposite that ran above the moat. To appear within this circle of light without being seen by any one within the room I saw at once was an impossibility. Yet even as I stood hesitating what I should do next, Fortune settled it for me in an unexpected manner. For without warning the window opened outwards, and a woman clad in white appeared upon the step.

I flattened myself against the ivy-covered wall behind me, and so stood, scarcely daring to draw my breath, for it needed but one glance to assure me that it was my lady herself, the light from within shining full upon her golden hair.

For it may be a minute she stood there gazing into the night. Then with a weary gesture she raised her hand to her brow, and turning on her heel, disappeared into the room, and the light from the window vanished suddenly from the terrace.

I rubbed my eyes and stared again at the spot. In place of the brightly illumined circle of a moment before rested only impenetrable darkness. Yet from the three windows beyond the light was still shining.

As the full significance of this fact dawned upon me, I stole forward until I reached the step. And I was not mistaken. Inadvertently in re-entering the room, my lady had loosened the curtains, and they had fallen to behind her.

From within came the sound of voices, but the curtains were so thick that the words were indistinct and the light shone through but faintly.

Cautiously I raised my hand and slightly parted the heavy drapery before me, and the interior of the room lay open to my gaze.

Upon the hearth, beside the carved stone chimney-piece, stood my lady, the light of the candles shimmering in the folds of her soft satin gown. Seated at a table near, upon which lay the remains of a meal, were three men, whom I had never before seen. At the head was a sallow, hawk-faced man, with a certain stiffness of carriage that sufficiently proclaimed a military career. He wore a full bottomed periwig and was dressed in a suit of sober black. The one nearest to me was more conspicuous. He was an enormously stout man, in a coat of plum-coloured velvet. He had laid aside his wig upon the table before him, and the light shone upon his round bullet head, crowned with a few scanty locks of hair, which he mopped ever and again with a coloured kerchief. Facing me was a young man of some twenty years of age, dressed in a richly laced suit of grey and silver.

My lady was speaking, but in a voice so changed I could scarcely recognise it as hers; for so far I had but heard it hard and bitter with scorn; now it was soft and raised in pleading.

“Oh,” she was saying, “how can you longer hesitate, even for a moment? Or why delay? Surely you, Colonel Wharton, know, depleted of troops as the country is at present, now is the very time for all true friends of the Stuart cause to proclaim themselves openly in arms!”

“Admitting the truth of all that you have said, madam,” the man in black answered, “and the fact of the money and arms being to hand at the time you mention, still I cannot but look upon the enterprise as a most desperate one.”

“Desperate?” the stout man cried. “’Tis suicide—sheer suicide! Would you have me believe that the country is any the more anxious to receive James back than it was, two years ago, to be quit of him?”

“I am afraid that I do not understand you, sir!” my lady answered. “You have heard what has already been said!”

“Granted,” he replied quickly. “And now hear what I have to say, madam. Is it right for us to risk our—” he coughed slightly—“to risk the lives of these poor peasants in a premature and ill-organized rising? The sin of doing so is a matter to be considered, madam. We should unite the—hum!—guile of the serpent——”

“With the courage of the hare!” put in the young man contemptuously.

“With the—hum!—courage of the quadruped mentioned,” the other continued, without apparently noticing the sarcasm. “And the affair should be approached with all due circumspection. I think that is the correct phrase, Colonel Wharton?”

“Certainly, certainly,” the latter answered. “It is but sound common sense.”

“And it savours to me,” the young man cried impatiently, “to be more of——”

“Rupert,” my lady interrupted quickly, “be silent, I beg of you!”

“Of what, young man?” the colonel said in his precise tone, fixing his eyes upon the other’s face. “Of caution, you should say. For take the word of an old soldier who has seen some service in his time, I say that arm your enthusiasts as you will, they will never stand against disciplined troops. And we want no second Monmouth affair to teach us wisdom!”

“But you forget, Colonel Wharton,” my lady cried. “What of the French troops that Louis will send us?”

“Pardon me, madam,” the colonel replied gloomily. “That he says he will send us! I am of opinion that if the house of Stuart relies upon French assistance for its restoration, that event will not take place in my lifetime; although you, madam,” he added, “may possibly live to see a grandson of James ascend the throne!”

“The more reason, sir, that we should act, relying on ourselves,” the young man cried quickly; and the glance of gratitude my lady gave him was not lost on me. “I am of opinion that never before have James’s affairs worn so favourable an aspect. And I, for one, gentlemen, am ready and willing to tread the path her ladyship points out, though, it should lead me to the scaffold!”

“Ah, youth! youth! there spoke thy language,” the stout man said, shaking his head slowly with a movement that set his pendulous chin quivering. “Not that I blame Sir Rupert Courtenay for being outspoken,” he added, somewhat hastily, as the other half rose from his seat. “At his age I was like him.”

“Young in years I may be,” the other cried hotly. “’Tis a fault that time will remedy. At least, I am not a——”

“Gentlemen,” my lady cried pleadingly, “for my sake, do not quarrel. Oh,” she continued passionately, “what ill fate clings around the Stuarts, that among their friends every measure formed on their behalf is born to perish in the rifts of selfish strife!”

“If I spoke somewhat hastily, sir,” the young man said sullenly, “you must put it down to my Courtenay blood. I am willing for this lady’s sake to withdraw my words.”

“Let it pass, sir, let it pass,” the other answered with a wave of the hand. “As between gentlemen they are already forgotten.”

“And may I be permitted to know, madam,” the colonel broke in, “the names of those who have consented to aid you in this scheme ’ere adding my own to the number—if I approve of it,” he added.

I saw that for a moment my lady hesitated.

Then she drew a folded paper from the bosom of her gown. “See,” she cried eagerly with shining eyes. “Here is the authority for what I do, and with the signature of the king himself—my king!” imprinting a kiss upon the parchment. “Gentlemen, I rely upon your honour for their non-divulgence,” she added quietly, laying it upon the table before them.

The colonel bowed in acquiescence; and drawing a candle to him, unfolded the paper and glanced at its contents. Suddenly he raised his eyes.

“I see that your ladyship’s name heads the list,” he said shortly.

“I should be base indeed to ask others to risk danger that I feared to dare myself,” she answered proudly.

And I, the silent watcher without, asked myself how he could longer hesitate. Had I been in the man’s place, had my lady so looked and spoken to me—pshaw! what foolishness was this! The woman had beaten me like a hound; and I held her life and the lives of the men before me in the hollow of my hand! And I had heard and seen enough of the latter to sum up, in my own mind at least, their characters. God help my lady’s scheme if she depended on such men as these for its success!

The colonel finished reading; and with a totally impassive face handed the paper in silence to the stout man beside him.

The latter perused it with sundry short ejaculations; then:

“Hum!” he said at last. “These are well-known names, madam.”

“That being so,” my lady replied quickly, “and my cousin,” she added, indicating the young man in grey—“having already signed, it only remains for you, gentlemen, to do likewise!”

“No, no, no,” the stout man replied, rising hastily to his feet. “Let there be no waiting, madam! I will put no pen to paper! What!” he added hastily, meeting my lady’s look of wondering contempt, “would you have me hazard my life into the keeping of any one who would sell it, for aught I know, upon the first opportunity?”

“I shall keep the paper, sir,” my lady answered coldly.

“That may be, madam, that may be,” he continued, working himself into a rage. “And it may suit these gentlemen,” he added, tapping the paper in his hand, “but it is not so agreeable to me. And besides that, I am not sure that my conscience will suffer me to aid you.”

“Your conscience!” my lady cried with infinite scorn.

“Aye, madam, my conscience,” he went on, no whit taken aback; “for whether you succeed or fail, shall I be privy to that which will again bring bloodshed with its attendant misery upon the people of this country?”

I waited no longer.

“I will answer that question for you, sir,” I cried clearly, stepping into the room. “You will not!”

My lady uttered a low cry and stood as if turned to stone, with parted lips and straining eyes. The two men who were seated half rose, clutching at the table before them in the extremity of their surprise. As for the stout man, when his glance lighted upon my uniform he caught his breath with a gasp of mortal fear and fell back into his chair with ashen face and quivering lips, and the paper fluttered from his nerveless fingers.

In three strides I crossed the floor, and in a moment the paper was in my hand. The next and I had thrust it in my breast. That broke the spell.

“You!” my lady gasped in a choking voice.

“‘You!’ my lady gasped in a choking voice”

“Yes, I, madam!” I answered quickly. “You did not expect me to return so speedily! You keep strange company at Cleeve, my lady,” I continued sneeringly. “And such that whilst I take up my residence in this house you will do well to regulate.”

Ere she could reply the younger of the men sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair in the act.

“By Heaven, the paper!” he cried. “To me, colonel! We must have it at all hazards!” And he drew his sword. An example which was not followed, however, by the cravens at his side. Remembering the serving men I had seen without, I saw that the matter was getting serious, and I had no wish to hurt the lad.

“One moment,” I cried sternly, raising my hand with a gesture of command. “I beg that you will not put me to the trouble of summoning the troopers who wait without; for I think that you forget, gentlemen,” I continued slowly, “that if I arrest you in this house, the consequences to my lady will be of the gravest character—consequences,” I added, “which I am as desirous of avoiding as you are for reasons of my own.”

I saw that my words took effect. The man before me hesitated and then stood still, frowning. I suppose that a moment’s reflection showed him the truth of what I had said, for he slowly sank his point.

“What, then, do you propose to do?” he said at last; and I knew by the tone of his voice that the game was in my own hands. Henceforth everything was easy. I would show my lady who was the master here.

“I will tell you,” I answered quietly. “But you will oblige me, Sir Rupert Courtenay—I think that I have the name correctly—by first laying your sword upon the table. And, Colonel Wharton, yours. No hesitation, gentlemen,” I continued sternly. “I have force sufficient to ensure obedience.”

Still for a moment he wavered in doubt.

“And if I comply, sir, with your request,” he said slowly, “what guarantee have I that this lady shall suffer no harm?”

“My word of honour, sir,” I answered quietly.

“Honour?” my lady cried quickly. “If you look for aught of honour from this gentleman, I warn you that you will look in vain!”

“I thank you for your good opinion of me, madam,” I answered calmly, “which, coming from your ladyship, was such as I should have expected. And I can the more readily overlook your words, since I know how inopportune must be my presence. But I think that for the present it is for me to command and for you to obey.”

“I waited a moment, but she did not speak. She only looked at me. Yet that look hurt me more than words. Despite my assumed air of carelessness, the scorn and loathing in her eyes made me wince.

“And I will give your ladyship a word of future advice,” I continued with a sneer. “Open windows consort ill with conspiracy!”

“I trust, sir, that you do not include me in that category,” the colonel broke in suddenly, “for I think that you have no evidence to support such an assertion.”

“No evidence at all,” the stout man cried, recovering somewhat from his first shock of surprise. Though if ever conscious guilt looked out of a man’s eyes, it was in his, and his twitching lip belied his air of assurance. “Not a shadow of it!” he continued, growing bolder at the sound of his own voice. “And if you were listening, captain, you heard what I was saying. As a magistrate of this country it is my duty—hum!—strictly in the interests of government to acquaint myself with the opinions of the most influential families. Had you delayed your appearance a moment longer, you would have heard the measures I was about to take to—hum!—counteract the scheme of this misguided lady!”

“As to that,” I replied—and I could afford to forgive him his cowardice—for the man was playing into my hands, “I am willing to take your word for it, Mr.——?”

“Wetherell,” he answered—“Nicholas Wetherell, at your service. I am well known, sir! I believe that I can honestly say,” he added pompously, “that I am a man of some weight in the city of Exeter.”

I looked him steadily in the face.

“I do not doubt it,” I answered quietly.

The young baronet gave a short laugh and the colonel’s mouth writhed itself into a grim smile. Nay, for a moment even I thought that my lady’s face relaxed somewhat; but, meeting my eyes, she stiffened again into her old mask of scorn.

“Yet I do not know, Mr. Wetherell,” I continued dryly, “that the government would entirely approve of your method of obtaining information.”

“There is no more loyal subject, sir, in England than I!” he cried hastily.

“Indeed,” I answered, “I think that your loyalty, sir, is as strong as your courage!”

“And I trust that the latter does not need to be questioned, captain,” he blustered.

“It does not!” I replied, with I fear some of the contempt I felt for the man appearing in my voice. “But I will put your loyalty to the test. You have wine there,” I continued, stepping to the table, the whilst they watched me in silence. “As loyal subjects, therefore, you will not refuse to join me in drinking a toast.”

I slowly filled four glasses, three of which I placed in the centre of the table.

“Gentlemen,” I cried clearly, raising the fourth, “to the health of his Majesty, King William!”

For it may be ten seconds they sat silent. The room was very still. I gazed full at my lady where she stood upon the hearth. She was leaning slightly forward, her hands pressed against her bosom, watching the scene before her with fascinated eyes. It was a battle of our wills and I had won!

Suddenly the stout man stretched out a shaking hand.

“To the health of King William, sir!” he cried quickly, all the more anxious to make up for his first slight hesitation. “I desire no better toast.” And he drained his glass.

“Nor I also,” said the colonel more slowly. “To King William, sir! I wish him success in his campaign!”

But I noticed that he avoided meeting my lady’s eyes.

I turned to the young baronet. And here I expected trouble.

“Sir Rupert Courtenay,” I said quietly, “it is your turn!”

For a moment he hesitated, and I saw a quick glance pass between him and my lady. Then, to my surprise, he gave a light laugh and raised his glass.

“I drink to the king!” he cried clearly, with a defiant look at me.

I noted mentally his reservation, and I knew whom he meant. But it was not my cue to quarrel with him. I was more than content with my victory.

“Good!” I said aloud, following his example. “That is sufficient, sir!” and I replaced my glass upon the table. “I will not detain you longer, gentlemen,” I added. “I have already said that for reasons of my own I am willing to overlook your presence here. Whether I take further steps in the matter will depend entirely upon your future conduct. But for the present, gentlemen, there is the door. I should recommend you to take your departure with all speed. The night air is somewhat chilly!”

And they needed no further urging. Without a word the stout man replaced his wig upon his head and, catching up his hat, started for the door. Perhaps he feared that I might yet repent my clemency. And the colonel was not slow to follow his example. True, he had the decency first to turn to my lady, as if to make his adieux; but one glance at her rigid figure and burning eyes was sufficient for him.

“This comes of having a woman in it,” he said shortly, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

I glanced at my lady. Her head was bent. I could not see her face. Suddenly, with a quick, defiant movement she upraised it, tossing the hair from her forehead.

“Cousin Rupert,” she cried proudly, “your arm!”

The young baronet hastened to do her bidding, and she moved by me, drawing her scented skirts aside, lest they should touch me in passing. At the door, still with her hand upon his arm, she turned.

“You have beaten me twice, sir,” she said, in a voice trembling with passion. “For your own sake beware of the third time!” And she swept out.

CHAPTER VI
OF HOW I PLAYED KNIGHT-ERRANT, AND OF MY LADY’S GRATITUDE

When my lady had left the room and the swish of her silken skirts had ceased I hastened to take my departure, for I did not doubt that if it was discovered I had come alone and that the troopers of whose presence I had talked so glibly existed only in my own imagination, her ladyship would take active measures for the recovery of the paper in my possession.

I stepped through the window, therefore, and sought the spot where I had left my horse. I took the bridle in my hand, and, avoiding the avenue leading to the gates, led him through the tangled undergrowth until we came out, some hundred yards below, upon the road.

Here I halted and looked back. There was no sound to break the stillness save the soft sighing of the night wind in the branches overhead. At my feet the white road stretched away into the night, silent and lonely.

I lost no time, therefore, in mounting, and a few minutes later, without molestation, reached the village.

As I rode up the main street I saw that the troopers had quartered themselves upon the inhabitants; for a dozen or more were lounging in the open doorways upon either side of the road, who upon catching sight of my face, stiffened their backs and saluted me as I passed. Before the inn itself a noisier group were gathered, whose laughter and jests died away for a moment as I dismounted, to again break out with renewed clamour when I had crossed the threshold.

Calling for a light, I made my way to the little chamber that I had previously occupied. Carefully fastening the door behind me and satisfying myself that I was indeed alone, I set the candle upon the little table and drew the precious paper from my breast—the paper big with the fate of my lady’s freedom! Perhaps in the temper of the times her life! For I well knew that in the nation’s present state of panic the government would have little consideration and respect for either rank or sex. And ’twas well known that the Earl of Ingram was one of James’s most trusted councillors.

The paper itself was a small sheet of coarse white parchment and was folded into three.

As I stood turning it over in my hands, on a sudden my lady’s face seemed to confront me.

Again I went over the scene so lately enacted, again I heard her clear voice raised in pleading, and moved by some impulse of I know not what, I laid the paper unopened upon the table, and with the candle in my hand I went down on my knees upon the dusty floor.

Presently in the corner of the room farthest from the window I found that which I sought—a loosened board.

With the aid of my sword I raised one end of this, and in the cavity beneath I slipped the fateful parchment, replacing afterwards the board and removing all traces of my handiwork. It was not until this was accomplished that I breathed more freely, and I sought my couch with a distinctly lighter heart.

It was late next morning when I awoke, and the bright June sunshine was streaming into the room through the little latticed window. I dressed hastily and descended to the inn parlour, where I found the two cornets already at the table. During the meal I gathered from Cornet Graham some information respecting Cleeve. The village itself and the surrounding farms belonging to the Ingram family contained some eight hundred inhabitants; but of this number, fully two hundred—being the young and able-bodied men—were serving under the earl in Ireland. Of the remaining number some eighty only were males, and these the greybeards or youths too young to endure the arduous duties of the Irish campaign.

When I had made myself acquainted with such gossip as he had at his command, I gave the cornets their orders for the day, and returning to my room, arrayed myself in full uniform. Also whilst in London I had taken the opportunity of visiting a tailor’s shop in the Haymarket and purchasing to myself sundry little fripperies of attire, such as a lace cravat and fashionable peruke, the which I smiled at myself for donning. Nevertheless, I was minded to look my best when I again presented myself at Cleeve.

My vanity satisfied, I made my way to the stables, and mounting my horse, set out for the manor.

Evidently my arrival had been expected, and my lady had given her orders as to my future treatment; for as I reined in my horse and dismounted before the door, of a sudden it opened, and the steward came to the head of the steps. Behind him I caught a glimpse of a little group of servants, most of whom were women, who regarded me with feminine curiosity.

“Is it your pleasure to enter, sir?” said the steward respectfully, though the sullen hate in his eyes belied his deferential manner.

“And my horse?” I said curtly, ascending the steps.

“Shall be looked to, never fear,” he replied; then, raising his voice: “Martin!” he cried; and at his call the youth who had accompanied him upon the ride to Exeter came slowly forward from the group behind. “Take this gentleman’s horse to the stables.”

“And see that he lacks for nothing,” I said grimly, “or you will regret it, my friend!”

For I had not forgotten this same youth’s insolence to me upon the road, and I was determined to show these people that for the present, at least, I was their master.

When he had moved away, muttering and cursing to himself, I followed the steward to the dining hall, which I have previously described. Everything in it was as I had seen it upon my first arrival, only the room was empty.

“My lady is out?” I said carelessly.

“No,” the steward answered slowly; “she is not out, but——”

“She is not desirous of seeing me, you would say?” I answered quickly. “Be frank, man! I understand. And for the present it is a matter of indifference to me, as I intend to make myself acquainted with the gardens and the cliffs adjoining. But you will prepare a room for me,” I continued, watching him out of the corner of my eye; “and also inform your mistress that I dine at noon, and must then request their ladyships’ presence.”

The start he gave did not escape me.

“My ladies will dine with you?” he stammered.

“Certainly,” I replied harshly. “Is there any reason why they should not? Or does it require another necklet to teach you that I am a man to be obeyed?” And with this parting shot I left him. At the threshold of the room I turned. He still stood in the centre of the floor, apparently bereft of speech.

“The hour is noon,” I said quietly, “and I beg that they will not keep me waiting.”

Arrived in the open air, for the first time I remembered that I had not as yet seen the gigantic figure of Sampson Dare; and encountering the youth Martin, I asked what had become of him.

He looked up for a moment from his task.

“He is not here,” he said, scowling.

“I asked you where he was,” I answered dryly.

“In London, then, if it will please you,” he retorted sullenly.

“Ah!” was all I said in reply. And turning on my heel, I left him. But I understood perfectly upon what errand the man had gone, and I saw by this, even if I had not received ample proof already, that my lady was not a woman to let the grass grow under her feet. Doubtless she had powerful friends in London whom she trusted to interest government on her behalf. If so, I thought, time alone will show whether her confidence was misplaced.

For the present, at least, I held the winning cards.

From the stables I took the first broad path, and finally came to the cliffs, where I stumbled upon the little path which we had ascended fourteen days previously in the darkness and storm.

And the longer I looked at it, the more I wondered that our attempt on such a night had not ended in disaster. Even by daylight it was no pleasant task to tread the narrow ledge, as I discovered for myself when I essayed to make the descent. No pleasant knowledge, that a single slip or a momentary giddiness would precipitate me into the sapphire sea, slumbering peacefully a hundred feet below.

Nevertheless, I persevered in the attempt, and in due time reached the beach.

On the flat slab of rock at the bottom of the steps I paused. The tide was fast coming in, and the first waves were gently rocking the boat, that still lay where we had before seen it, in the little bay beneath the cliff.

The sun beat fiercely down upon my head and sparkled upon the crests of the waves, until the whole surface of the water resembled a sea of burnished silver. Presently my eyes lighted upon something that roused in me a momentary curiosity. The beach, as I have previously said, was composed of small, grey pebbles; but about ten feet from the foot of the cliff lay a patch of hard sand, some twelve feet square, its smooth, yellow surface showing plainer by reason of the slate-coloured shingle surrounding it. How it had come in such a place was beyond my imagination to fathom.

For some minutes I stood gazing over the sea; then, turning, I retraced my steps, and passing idly through the sunlit gardens, reached the house.

It wanted a few minutes to the hour when I entered the dining hall, and I saw that my instructions had been obeyed.

In the centre of the room, a table, laden with massive silver plate, had been set out for three. I laid aside my hat and sword and waited for my guests’ appearance with a heart that beat more rapidly than was its wont.

Nevertheless, it was five minutes past the hour of noon when the steward appeared in the doorway.

“How is this?” I said curtly. “You carried my message?”

“My ladies would know if you command their presence?” he answered slowly.

“Aye,” I cried impatiently. “Command them, then, in the devil’s name!”

“I will not fail to give them your orders,” he retorted quickly, and was gone ere I could make reply.

And presently they came.

Long ere they entered the room I heard the soft rustling of their gowns and the click of their heels upon the polished oaken floor. The younger sister’s face was pale, with a certain shrinking timidity in the covert glance she stole at me. My lady’s face was stone, and her eyes were hard and glittering. I bowed low to them on their entering, a salute which the younger woman returned with a slight acknowledgment, and which my lady totally ignored.

When they had seated themselves opposite me, and the steward had placed the covers upon the table, I lost some of my original nervousness in fulfilling the civilities of the table. And I strove to appear entirely at my ease, praising the beauty of the gardens and the cooking of the dishes before us. But to all my conversation—nay, even to direct questions, the younger woman replied only in monosyllables—my lady not at all.

And they made no pretence of eating what I pressed upon them. Stately and still, they sat and looked at me. And gradually I froze!

They could not have hit upon a better device whereby to unnerve me. Minute by minute, try as I would, my assumed air of assurance left me. Beneath the gaze of my lady’s scornful eyes, of her rigid figure and curled lip—that all proclaimed my presence as pollution—I felt the hot blood mantling to my brow, and the words died stammering from my tongue.

I strove to gather courage from the wine before me, and my hand was shaking.

Presently I could bear it no longer, and I pushed my plate from me and rose to my feet.

“If you would prefer for the future to dine alone, madam,” I said sullenly, “you have my permission to do so.”

“I thank you for the concession, sir,” my lady said coldly; “which, being prisoners, we have no right to expect. Also as our jailer,” she continued with bitter emphasis, “is it permitted us to take our daily ride alone?”

“Certainly,” I answered; though the scathing contempt in her voice and eyes made me wince. “I see no reason against your doing so! And believe me, madam,” I continued earnestly, “excepting in so far as my duty here compels me, I have no desire to interfere with your actions or restrain your freedom.” Yet I might have spared myself the confession, for without a word of thanks from either of them they moved away. “And one word more, madam,” I continued, as they reached the doorway; “the paper——?” and I hesitated.

My lady turned quickly at the words.

“The paper which you stole, sir?” she said coldly.

“Which I—— You use a harsh phrase, madam,” I answered irrelevantly, advancing a few paces nearer to her. On a sudden I was minded to prove to her that she was unjust to me—to shame her for her words. “I had no wish,” I continued in a low voice, “to use it to your injury, my lady, and so——”

“You can spare me further, sir!” she interrupted icily. “Your insolence I can bear for the present, but not your hypocrisy. That you are present here to-day is insult enough to my womanhood; for the rest, I pray you keep as far from me as the limits of this house permit.”

For a moment I stood before her tongue-tied and trembling. Then:

“Very well, madam,” I said harshly. “As you please! I was about to say that this paper is no longer in my possession, but in the hands of those who will make ruthless use of it should any accident befall me! I am aware that the cliffs of Cleeve are dangerous,” I added meaningly; and with a bow I went back to my seat.

But alone with my thoughts, I cursed the foolishness that had led me to demand their presence, and I laid the humiliation I felt at my lady’s door. Bah! ’twas a pitiful little triumph, and one worthy of her! As I recalled the look that had shone in her eyes I bit my lip savagely and strove with what appetite I could rally to complete my meal. But the taste had gone from the dishes, the wine was sour.

Presently, in sheer ill humour with things in general, and with my lady in particular, I rose from the table, and making my way to the stables, mounted my horse and set out for the village.

Arrived there, I assembled the astonished troopers, and there for an hour I drilled them in the little square before the inn. And well for the knaves that they gave me no offence upon which to vent my rage, for it would have gone hard with the offender, whomsoever he might have been.

It was whilst engaged in this duty that I became aware of the clatter of a horse’s hoofs approaching rapidly down the village street, and looked up to meet my lady’s scornful eyes, a smile of disdain upon her lips.

’Twas but a moment’s glimpse I gained of her, the next and she had passed; but for me the pleasure had gone from my task and again my thoughts were embittered.

Accordingly I dismissed the men somewhat curtly, and turning my horse’s head, rode past the church in the direction which my lady had taken. I went at a foot pace, however, for I had no desire to overtake the woman in front; at the same time, I was minded to ride as far as Cleevesborough, the tall hill rising to the south of the village. To overtake her? My faith, no! Henceforth I would avoid her and so follow her advice. At the foot of the hill I fastened my horse to a straggling thorn bush and ascended the rest of the way on foot. From the summit I glanced below me.

Some two miles distant my lady showed as a rapidly moving speck upon the ribbon of white road that wound down the valley. A mile or so beyond her I could distinguish the upper portion of a large black-timbered mansion rising above the surrounding trees. Long after she had disappeared beneath the latter, I still remained upon the summit of the hill, admiring the beauty of the scene. At length I descended to where I had left my horse, and mounting, rode slowly down to the level of the road. Arrived there, however, I determined that I would not return by the way that I had come, but would strike inland and make my way in a half circle back to Cleeve.

With this intention I crossed the road and entered the trees upon the opposite side. I found that these did not continue for more than a few hundred yards, giving place to a succession of little grass-grown hollows, covered with sparse, brown bracken, and here and there a scattered boulder breaking through the coarse turf.

In most of these depressions were pools of stagnant water and patches of black bogland that required some caution in avoiding, so that it was not without satisfaction that about a mile farther I came upon a path. It was a mere bridle track running down the centre of the hollow, and was little used, as I saw at once by the marks of the hoof prints upon its surface, which were fully a week old. I set my face in the direction of Cleeve, and the sorrel broke into a trot. The track led from hollow to hollow, some broad, some narrow, and for the most part with marshy, reed-grown ground on either side.

I rode with slackened rein, my hat pressed low upon my brow, and I gave myself up to my thoughts—thoughts in which my lady strangely mingled.

The sun beat down with almost tropical heat upon me; and what little wind there had been on the uplands above was here shut out by the slopes upon either side.

How far I had proceeded thus I do not know, for lulled by the rhythmic stroke of my horse’s hoofs, with half-closed eyes I took no account of time.

On a sudden the sorrel stopped with a jerk that all but unseated me. Then he commenced to back, and I felt his flanks quiver. In an instant I was alert, and I searched the pathway in front with my eyes, thinking perhaps some viper or creature of the bog had startled him. But I could see nothing.

Slipping from the saddle, therefore, I soothed the frightened animal as best I could, and glanced keenly around me. I was in a deeper depression than any I had as yet traversed—a circular, cup-shaped hollow, its sides sloping some quarter of a mile to the ridge above. In front of me stretched the path, to right and left of it patches of bogland, its black surface covered with slime and green water-weed.

Stay, was it the path? I bent and gazed fixedly at the track before me, then, unbuckling my sword, I slowly advanced, probing the ground in front of me. At the sixth step my sword encountered no resistance. I drew back with a shudder, and, despite the heat of the day, a cold chill ran down my back. Again I tested the spot with my sword. The green mass quivered at my touch, but there was no solid ground, and in a moment the truth flashed upon me.

The bog upon the right, which stretched some distance up the slope, had slipped, undermining the path, which at a casual glance still retained its ordinary appearance by reason of the green entangled weed floating upon its stagnant surface.

Never had Nature cunningly concealed a man-trap more treacherous. But for my horse’s sagacity I should have been—pah! the very thought of sinking slowly beneath the noisome ooze made me shudder. I turned away, and taking the bridle rein in my hand, I skirted round the smaller patch of bogland on the left and regained the track beyond.

Arrived there, however, I did not at once ride forward. On the contrary, I retraced my steps to the brink of the bog, for I was minded to see how far the pathway was undermined. To the spot where I had stood before upon the opposite side was, as near as I could judge, some fifteen feet. I cast about for some means of warning travellers of their danger; but there was nothing but the bare hillside around me, and with a shrug I turned away. After all, what concern was it of mine? Resolving, however, for the future to take to the ridges and to avoid the low-lying ground, I remounted my horse and headed straight for the top of the hollow, some quarter of a mile distant. I had all but reached the summit of the slope when a dull sound struck upon my ear—the regular thud, thud of a horse’s hoofs and of a horse ridden at speed.

I drew rein in idle curiosity as to who the rider might be in such an unfrequented spot. Nearer and nearer came the sound behind me, and a minute or so later the horse and its rider flashed into sight.

It was my lady herself!

My lady mounted on the chestnut mare that I had so admired. And in a moment I understood. The green track that had nearly proved fatal to me led to the mansion I had seen from the summit of Cleevesborough, the smooth turf forming a more pleasant bridle path to the village than the dusty road.

Along this pathway my lady was sweeping at full gallop, was sweeping to the death that lurked below! And I hated her!

But even as the thought came to me I gathered up the reins, drove in my spurs, and in a moment I was thundering down the slope. Even now, though years have lapsed, how the memory of that ride comes back to me!

Less than a quarter of a mile distant, at right angles to me, and somewhat nearer than I to the green pitfall below, came the chestnut at full gallop, spurning the ground from beneath her flying hoofs. And with a certain shrinking of the heart I could in nowise account for, moment by moment I realised that the sorrel I bestrode was no match for the more thoroughbred and lighter weight of the animal before me. And seeing this, I rose in my stirrups and shouted. It may have been that my words were drowned in the thunder of our galloping hoofs. It may be, seeing that it was I—nay, more likely, I thought bitterly, because it was I—my lady took no heed. And in my heart I cursed the wilfulness of this woman who would take naught from me, not even words of warning. Yet this very wilfulness made me but the more resolved to save her—to save her at all hazards! I settled myself, therefore, more firmly in the saddle, and the race continued. And now less than two hundred yards divided us—two hundred yards and the morass between.

Also, now that I was nearer, I realised that for once I had done my lady an injustice, and that the animal beneath her was far beyond her control. So clear, indeed, was the air, so brilliant the glaring light, that I could mark the chestnut’s straining eyes and the white foam flying from her lips—aye, and I could clearly distinguish the outline of my lady’s graceful figure as she rose and fell to the mare’s stride—could see the dainty head and glowing cheek, the proud, oval face, and the stray tresses of golden hair escaping from beneath her grey-velvet riding hat. And now she was but forty yards distant from the brink, and spur as I would, the sorrel might do no more.

Again I rose in my stirrups.

“For God’s sake, beware of the bog, madam!” I shouted, pointing to the ground between us. “Turn to the left! To the left!” For I saw that her only chance lay in skirting round the smaller patch as I had previously done. And now, indeed, despite her contempt for me, something in my voice must have attracted my lady’s attention, and, accustomed as she was to the nature of the surrounding country, her quick eyes discerned her danger; for I saw her throw her whole weight upon the left rein.

But it was too late, nothing could stop the chestnut now, and seeing this, my lady abandoned the attempt, and arriving at the brink, she lifted the mare with her hand and essayed the leap instead.

For a moment, as she rose into the air, I closed my eyes, and but opened them upon hearing the dull thud with which the mare alighted in safety upon the near side.

Not quite, for her hind feet striking upon the very edge of the path, the soft, spongy turf gave way beneath the shock, and she rolled back into the bog.

Yet my lady was safe. Even in mid air she had freed her foot from the stirrup, and as the mare struck the ground she sprang clear—to fall, indeed, upon her hands and knees on the soft turf a dozen paces distant.

A moment later I reached the spot and flung myself from the saddle. My lady had already regained her feet.

“You are not hurt, madam?” I cried anxiously, forgetful for the moment of the hatred between us.

She did not answer me. No doubt the fall had dazed her. Instead, she turned in the direction of her horse and took two steps forward. But I was too quick for her.

“Have a care, madam!” I cried, barring her further progress. “This is no woman’s task, and the ground is dangerous. Trust me,” I continued earnestly, “to do all that is possible to save your favourite.” I turned from her as I spoke and made my way to the edge of the bog.

With eyes dilated with terror and blood-red nostrils distended, the mare still struggled to regain her footing. At no little risk to myself of being drawn into the bog, I succeeded at length in laying hold of the rein, and I drove my heels into the turf and exerted all my strength—aye, till the muscles of my back and arms cracked beneath the strain—in a vain endeavour to assist her efforts. But though her forefeet, indeed, rested upon the more solid ground, her struggles were growing fainter and she was sinking rapidly. I saw that it was a question of moments only, and there was but one expedient. Loosing hold of the rein with my right hand, I drew my sword and thrust her lightly in the breast.

At the touch of the steel she gave a snort of mingled pain and terror and rose from her knees. Her hoofs caught, slipped upon the soft, wet turf, caught again as I threw my weight into the scale, and the next moment I was on my back upon the grass, and the hollow spun round me in a golden mist. ’Twas but a second or two I lay there, however, for the mare’s head had caught me fairly in the chest and the breath was gone from my body. Then I slowly rose to my feet and turned to look behind me. Twenty paces away my lady stood soothing the frightened animal, that now stood quivering with terror from head to foot.

I approached her slowly, with a feeling of exultation in my breast. For had I not proved my words to her and succeeded? Had I not by service rendered placed her in my debt? Surely I had earned this woman’s gratitude, and I would take it as my just reward. She did not look at me as I approached. Instead, she drew a snow-white kerchief from the bosom of her gown and with ostentatious care began to staunch the blood that welled from the wound I had inflicted upon the mare’s breast. One might almost have supposed that she thought more of this slight wound than if the animal itself had been engulfed. Three paces from her was a large flat boulder, one of many that lay scattered upon the turf. By the side of this I halted. Still she did not turn her head.

Her hat had fallen back, revealing the tresses of golden hair straying in wild disorder upon her neck. I had leisure to observe more closely the exquisite symmetry of her figure, displayed as it was to its best advantage by the tight-fitting riding coat she wore.

Feeling, I suppose, my eyes upon her, she deliberately turned her back on me and continued her task as before. I waited two—three—minutes, still she did not speak.

“Am I to have no thanks, madam?” I said at length in a low voice.

“It was a praiseworthy action,” she answered icily; “and as such doubtless carries its own reward.”

On a sudden my exultation vanished at her words. It was borne in on me that she would rather have been beholden to the meanest beggar upon the road than to me. Yet I would not be discouraged so easily. Again I broke the silence:

“I do not think that the animal is much hurt, madam,” I said humbly. “’Tis but a flesh wound at most. Nevertheless, in case of further mishap, may I be permitted to return with you?”

And then indeed she looked at me.

“The road is public property, I believe, sir!” she replied in the same icy tone. “And I cannot prevent you, if you force your presence on me. But if you were anything but what you are—if you laid any pretence to being a gentleman, you would spare me the loathing of your company!”

I fell back then, indeed, as if she had struck me, and without a word in reply I returned slowly to the sorrel’s side and made pretence of tightening the girths with fingers that were trembling.

This was her gratitude! This my reward! Yet I consoled myself with the thought that even yet she would be obliged to seek my assistance in remounting, and I determined that I would not be the one to again make advances. But I did not know my lady, nor had I taken into consideration the fact of the boulders scattered plentifully around.

As with my back to her I fumbled at my saddle, I heard the mare’s footsteps receding; and, turning sharply, was in time to see her ladyship move slowly away.

Erect in the saddle, with never a backward glance, she urged the mare into a canter, breasted the green slope, disappeared, and left me there in the sunlit hollow—alone!

CHAPTER VII
OF CERTAIN PASSAGES IN THE ROSE GARDEN

Neither that day nor the following one did I again see my lady. And if I yet retained some lingering hope of her relenting in her old attitude towards me, I was doomed to be disappointed.

Nevertheless, in pursuance of my duties many a visit I paid to solitary farms and to the houses of the gentry scattered along the coast; at some to meet with the respect which my uniform and the nature of my errand warranted; at others—and these for the most part belonging to Catholic gentlemen—to encounter an ill-concealed hostility that sufficiently testified with whom their sympathies rested. And everywhere I found the same brooding spirit of alarm and discontent. The whole country was on the tiptoe of expectation. Rumours of William’s defeat and death were freely circulated by James’s infatuated followers. Scarcely a fisherman upon the coast but who woke fully expecting to see a French army drawn up upon the shore. Indeed, throughout all the western counties the Jacobites were secretly arming, awaiting but the success of the Stuart cause in Ireland to kindle anew the flames of civil war.

Such was the condition of England in this, the month of June, 1690. ’Twas some ten days after the incident in the hollow that I again had speech of my lady. Intelligence had reached me of a rumoured landing of arms in the neighbourhood of Teignmouth. Leaving De Brito, therefore, and twenty men to guard the village, with the remaining two-score troopers at my heels, I set out northwards. Whether, for once, rumour had lied, or whether the Jacobites had got wind of our presence I do not know; but certain it is that though we lay all that day and the next concealed in a beech wood near to the town nothing occurred, nor did we see any sign of a vessel off the coast.

On the third day, therefore, empty handed, we returned to Cleeve. It was evening, when, dismissing the troopers at the entrance gates, I rode up to the manor.

Seldom, I think, in all my wanderings have I witnessed a more lovely night. Behind the torrs, in a golden glory the sun was sinking to its rest, gilding the foliage of the oaks with a dozen varying shades of orange, pink and purple, and in the light of which the house before me stood refulgent, as if ’twas bathed in lambent flame.

I rode slowly to the stables, and having seen my horse safely stalled, I passed by way of the terrace to the house.

The doors and windows stood wide open, for ’twas a warm June night and the smoke curled lazily from the tall chimneys into the still evening air; but there was no other sign of life about it, and I entered and made my way to the dining hall without encountering any one.

Here indeed, though I met with the same solitude, I found a cold collation upon the oaken table, to the which I readily applied myself, wondering the while at the silence of the house and half wishing—such is man’s inconsistency—for their ladyships’ presence. Once, my eyes travelling through the open window, rested upon the figure of a woman passing swiftly down one of the terrace walks. But the distance and the gathering dusk left me uncertain as to whether it was my lady or no.

Presently I rose and sauntered slowly through the gardens to the cliffs; and here, upon the highest point, I flung myself upon the grass and gazed in genuine admiration upon the scene.

Long I lay there watching the lights spring up, one by one, in the village below me, until the crimson glow faded from the fleecy clouds above; then at last I rose and slowly retraced my steps. As I passed through the misty, scented gardens, idly culling the roses that lined the pathway on either side, the bats were fluttering around me on their silent wings, and faintly in the deepening dusk came the hoot of wandering owls. Somewhere in the trees around the house a nightingale poured forth its flood of song, as slowly upon the quiet landscape fell the peaceful stillness of the summer night.

Presently I saw upon my right a green arch of yew, and passing beneath this, I came upon a spot the like of which I have never seen to equal. Surely, I told myself, this is my lady’s garden, and one well worthy to match with her in point of loveliness. For it was a veritable bower of roses—a smooth stretch of green lawn, interspersed with beds of flowers of every conceivable shade of colour. The thick yew hedge enclosing it was cut in the stiff and formal manner of the Dutch, a fashion brought with William from The Hague. In the centre stood a white marble fountain, the jet from which fell with a pleasant plash into the wide basin beneath. One side of this enclosure was fenced by the low stone wall that ran above the moat, and facing me, another leafy arch gave entrance to the terrace walk beyond. Yet it was not admiration for the scene before me that brought me to a sudden halt and caused my heart to quicken its pulsations; for upon the broad steps at the fountain foot a woman was seated with a canvas in her hand, a brush and palette at her side. At the sound of my footsteps she turned her head, and I saw that it was my lady’s sister, Mistress Grace.

“Captain Cassilis,” she said with a winning smile, “saw you ever a more lovely night? Alas! I fear that my poor efforts fall far short of the reality. But you shall judge, sir, of their merits for yourself.” And she held the canvas out to me.

For a moment I stared at her in sheer astonishment. Then with a beating heart I took the canvas in my hand; for although she had not shown the same hostility towards me that my lady had done, yet never before had she addressed me of her own free will.

“You will let me see it?” I said humbly.

“You have been a great traveller, I believe, sir,” she answered; “and therefore your opinion should carry weight.

“But you do not speak!” I held the painting from me, the better to observe it; though had it been the finest masterpiece that Rome or Florence could produce, I doubt if in that moment I had marked its beauty; for my head was in a whirl. Was the barrier between myself and these women to be broken down at last?

“Madam,” I replied hastily, “to say that it is beautiful, is only——”

“To flatter me!” she interrupted quickly, as I hesitated, racking my brains for a phrase she might not deem extravagant. “And,” she continued lightly, “is it your custom, sir, to judge of a picture’s excellence upside down?”

“Madam,” I stammered in utter confusion, “I crave your pardon——”

“Fie, sir!” she continued, smiling. “Do you not know that to wound a woman’s vanity is to make an enemy for life? And I had inferred,” she continued in the same tone of raillery, glancing at the roses in my hand, “that you were a lover of Nature yourself.”

“If, madam,” I said hesitatingly, “you would permit me in some slight measure to retrieve my unfortunate error, and would so far honour me as to accept this humble tribute of my regret——”

“I love flowers,” she said simply, taking my proffered gift and raising it to her face, perhaps to hide her heightened colour.

“And I also,” I replied, looking down at her slight, girlish figure, as with deft fingers she rearranged the roses in her lap. “For to one fresh from the reeking kennels of London, where pestilence stalks hand in hand with crime, this old world garden where you live comes as a glimpse of Eden.”

“Yet I have read, sir,” she said impulsively, “that every Eden has its——”

She broke off abruptly without finishing the sentence; and even in the dusk I saw the warm blood mantle to her brow.

“Its serpent, you would say,” I said quietly, reading her thoughts; “aye, madam?”

For a moment or two there was silence—a silence broken only by the soft sound of the falling water and the voices of the night. I glanced at the woman before me and my heart sank. What a gulf there was between her life and mine!

Presently she spoke.

“It was a thoughtless speech,” she said in a low voice. “I pray you forget my hasty words.”

Again there was silence between us. But the memory of my errand in this place, of my lady’s open scorn, and of the haunting feeling of unrest that I had previously felt recurred to me again with double force.

“You, at least, do not hate me, madam,” I said bitterly, leaning upon the marble basin and gazing into the water below.

“It may be that I have not my sister’s pride,” she answered slowly, “or it may be that my nature is not formed for hatred. And then—” she continued, bending lower over the flowers, so that I could not see her face.

“Yes, madam?” I said inquiringly, as she paused.

“Forgive me if I am wrong,” she replied; “but I do not think that you are happy here.”

“Happy?” I cried, startled out of my self-control. “God knows that I am not! Do you imagine that I have no feeling? That it is pleasant for me to be shunned as if I were a leper—unfit for human ken? But for your kindly speech of me to-night, since first I came to Cleeve I have encountered naught save contumely and cruel words. Yet I would remind you, madam, that another in my place might not have dealt with you so leniently.”

In the silence that followed on my words—a silence in which the woman before me rose to her feet, and, laying the flowers that I had given her upon the fountain rim, stooped to collect her scattered colours—a quick step sounded on the terrace walk, and my lady’s figure appeared beneath the arch of yew.

“Why, Gracie?” she cried gaily. The fountain was between us—she had not discerned my presence. “I have been seeking everywhere for you! And what is this?” she continued, catching sight of the flowers, and raising them to inhale their fragrant odour. “Roses? Ah, now I understand! Cousin Rupert has been here, and the painting, I fear me, was but a pretext!”

“Indeed but you are wrong!” Mistress Grace replied with pretty confusion. “It was this gentleman who gave them to me!”

At her words I stepped aside, and my lady and I were face to face. It sent a swift pang to my heart to see the sudden change upon her face. A moment before she had been gay and smiling, but now, at sight of me the smile was frozen on her lips, and the hand in which she held the flowers fell to her side again. For it may be twenty seconds thus we stood, her eyes hardening with the pride I knew so well. Then she spoke. “It was kind indeed of Captain Cassilis to give us of our own,” she said coldly. “But in the house yonder there are of flowers enough and yet to spare. And for your compassion, sir, toward our fallen state, it may follow—these!”

She had been standing near to the wall that ran above the moat, and now, suiting the action to her words, she tossed the roses contemptuously into the black water below.

“Come, Gracie,” she added, turning on her heel.

In a few strides I had barred her further progress.

“One moment, madam,” I said hoarsely; “I desire a word with you.”

“The desire is not reciprocal, sir,” she answered icily. “Permit me to pass.”

“Not until you have heard me, madam,” I cried desperately. “Even the greatest of criminals can claim so much right.”

“In that case,” she replied with bitter irony, “your claim is indisputable. Say on, sir. We are but two unarmed women here.”

For a moment, speechless, I stared at her, with the hot blood flushing to my face. How this woman hated me!

“Well, sir,” she cried impatiently, “have you nothing to say? No further insults for your prisoners?”

“Madam, madam!” I burst out passionately, “what have I done to you that you should hate me so?”

“Hate you?” she answered slowly, gazing at me with hard, cruel eyes. “I think that you mistake me, sir. You are too mean, too base a thing to hate. I loathe you!”

And as with bent head, to hide the pain her words caused me, I stood aside, without further notice, save, indeed, one pitying glance from Mistress Grace, they passed me by, and I heard their footsteps die away into the night.

Long I remained where they had left me, my brain a chaos, a tumult in my breast. The song of the nightingale still quivered on the peaceful air, and the moon rose high in the heavens, silvering the tops of the surrounding oaks and flinging the shadows of their twisted boles upon the grass. Yet still I lingered by the fountain, in nowise conscious of the flight of time, whilst the very leaves, whispering to the passing breeze, seemed but to mock me with the echo of my lady’s words. Presently my brain grew clearer. What was this woman to me that I should imagine that her words could wound me? Or what concern of mine the opinion that she held of me? ’Twas but a week or two at most, and Cleeve, its fortunes, and its mistress would but linger in my memory—a vanished dream. Or, at the most, the vision of my lady would shine athwart the pathway of my chequered life, like as a radiant star above my head shot suddenly across the lighted heavens and vanished in illimitable space.

With a grim smile and a firm step I made my way to the house. Arrived in the hall, however, a surprise awaited me. Within the main entrance, seeming to fill the doorway, and conversing with my lady in low tones, stood the formidable figure of Sampson Dare.

The actual words I could not catch, but of the failure of his mission I could readily guess, both by his dejected face and also by the fact that at the sound of my footstep my lady turned swiftly away, and with bent head and averted face passed up the oaken stair. When the last rustle of her skirts had died away I slowly crossed the hall.

“Well, my friend,” I said, addressing the giant before me, not wisely, I admit, “what news of London?”

He scowled at me for a moment without speaking, then bending suddenly, he thrust his face within a foot of mine, and I felt his hot breath on my cheek.

“Hark you!” he growled hoarsely, opening and shutting his great hands, “but for my orders I would twist your neck and think no more of it than if I killed a rat!”

“Tush, man!” I made answer, meeting his gaze firmly, though I confess I was considerably startled at his words, for well I knew that once within his iron grip, the man had strength to carry out his threat, “and bring the troopers down upon the house? You should best know in that case what consideration your mistress would be like to meet with at their hands. No, no,” I continued coolly, twisting my moustaches, “I give you credit for more sense than that, unless, indeed, your body’s growth has dwarfed your brain.”

His face had fallen at my words. I suppose he saw their wisdom, but he still regarded me with a look of vindictive hatred.

“So you shelter yourself behind the women, do you?” he said at length. “Very well, Master Chicken-heart! Only, should it happen that they cannot shield you——”

“In that event, my friend,” I answered, lightly tapping the butt of the pistol in my sash, “the bigger the bulk, the easier the mark. You understand?” And without further words I left him. But that night on retiring to my chamber, for the first time I took the precaution of sounding all the walls and flooring with my sword, and having assured myself as to the non-existence of a secret entrance, I placed my sword and pistols within easy reach of my hand; for with so resolute a man now at her bidding, I was by no means certain that my lady might not attempt some desperate scheme against me. Nay, as I stood at the open window gazing across the woods to where the moonlight fell upon the old church tower and the slumbering hamlet below, I was minded for the moment to transfer my quarters to the village inn. But shame at such a course kept me to my post, and I flung myself at last upon my couch, conscious that the day had brought to me another formidable antagonist, a relentless foe.

Under the circumstances, therefore, it is not to be wondered at that I slept but ill, or that it was with a distinct feeling of relief I awoke from a troubled slumber to hear the distant clock upon the church strike five.

I sprang from my couch and set the window wide. By my faith! ’twas a morning to put heart in any man. The fresh sea breeze stole softly through the casement, fragrant with the scent of opening flowers. Overhead a few fleecy clouds drifted idly beneath a dome of deepest blue, whilst in the gardens below me, flooded by the summer sunshine, gorgeous butterflies on painted wings flitted above the dew-bespangled grass.

As, lost in thought, I leaned upon the sill, the fancy for a swim in the distant, murmuring sea commended itself so strongly to my mind that, hastily dressing, I took my sheathed sword beneath my arm and descended the stairs. No one was as yet abroad, and all was silent in the house when I quietly unbarred the outer door and stepped upon the terrace. And now that I was in the open air, my courage, that had somewhat waned the night before, returned to me. I laughed at the fears that then had power to shake me, and I told myself with a thrill of pardonable pride that over all this fair domain and that which it contained I was the master, and would prove my power. But on arrival at the cliffs my exultation suffered a sudden check, for I had scarcely set foot upon the narrow path when my eyes, travelling to the beach below, fell upon that which caused me to fling myself down upon the grass and to peer cautiously over the edge of the cliff; for in the little bay beneath, a boat, urged by a single pair of oars, was rapidly approaching to the land. Presently it grounded on the shingle, and in the solitary occupant who sprang ashore I recognised the figure of Sampson Dare. He beached the boat high and dry above the receding tide, and, stooping, took from thence a lantern and a cloak. This done, he straightened his back, and, unconscious of the watcher overhead, shading his eyes, stood looking out to sea. What in the name of mystery was the man doing here—here at this early hour, with a lantern in his hand? Clearly, the very fact of this proved that he had been out all night. Yet for what was he watching now? Or what did the man expect?

And suddenly the answer came, for the thick haze that had hitherto hung upon the surface of the water was rapidly dissipating beneath the sun’s increasing power, and as with its disappearance the prospect widened, away out at sea, some two miles distant, I caught sight of the dark hull of a small vessel with a cloud of white canvas above, looking for all the world like some great seabird riding on the wave.

Short time had I to note her appearance, however, for even as I gazed the helm swung round, and heading for the open sea, she vanished in the golden mist beyond.

Not till then did the figure of the man below me turn and with a quick step ascend the beach. And seeing this, I quickly withdrew, concealing myself among the shrubs, where I could command both a view of the path by which he must come and also of the house itself, and setting myself to wait for what should follow.

And presently my patience was rewarded, for on arriving within sight of the house, at the beginning of the sloping lawns, he came to a sudden halt, and after closely scanning its windows, fell to pacing up and down the grass. Nor had he long to wait before the door by which I had left the house suddenly opened and my lady herself stepped forth into the light.

At sight of her the man again advanced, and they met upon the little bridge above the moat, that, as it were, divided all the gardens from the house.

What my lady was saying to him, or that the fact of the door being unbolted had caused her some uneasiness, I could not but shrewdly guess; for they both turned to look up at my open window. And I saw the big man lay his hand upon the long rapier at his side with a gesture that boded ill for me should my presence be discovered, and set me crouching closer in the bushes, cursing my scarlet coat and heavy military boots that compelled me to remain in my concealment, from which I could neither advance nor retreat. Yet the entrance to the rose garden lay but some dozen feet away; if, I thought, as they turned once more and came towards the place where I lay, that was their goal, then surely my ears were keen enough to give me the key to this mystery. That it was a plot with which my fate was somehow connected I did not doubt; the presence of the vessel alone confirmed my opinion, and I awaited with a beating heart for their approach.

But again, I confess, I did not know my lady, and I could not but admire her caution, for when within thirty feet of where I lay, on a sudden she turned sharply aside, and leading the way to the very centre of the open lawns, careless of whether I should see them together, they sauntered slowly up and down in earnest conversation. Of the nature of this latter I could only guess, but in the added sparkle of my lady’s eye, in the prouder poise of her lovely head, I read all the signs of a settled purpose, of indomitable will.

They parted eventually at the little bridge, the big man evidently receiving some instructions, for he nodded repeatedly, and strode off in the direction of the stables.

After he had disappeared my lady still remained leaning, lost in thought, against the low stone parapet. But if, as I now believe, she had a suspicion of my presence near, why then ’twas well conceived, for while she was there I dared not move, and thus the time was gained for Sampson Dare to speed upon his errand.

’Twas full five minutes ere she roused herself, and then, with a searching glance over the sunny gardens, turning on her heel, she walked slowly to the house.

It was not until the door had closed upon her that I ventured from my hiding place, and stealthily making a wide detour, for I would not have her deem that I had played the spy, came out upon the avenue before the house. Passing thence to the stables, I found my suspicions considerably strengthened, for Sampson Dare was nowhere to be seen, and the powerful grey that he bestrode was missing from its stall.

But if the events of the morning left me in some perplexity, they left me also alert and on my guard to face the threatened danger, and I returned slowly to the house, fully determined to probe the secret to its core. I spent the morning, therefore, in hanging about the house and stables, seeking for something that would enable me to form a clue. But nothing occurred, nor did Sampson Dare again return, and reluctantly I owned myself completely baffled.

Towards noon, grown weary of inactivity, I mounted my horse with the intention of riding to the village, but I had got no further than the gates of the manor when I was startled by the sound of a cavalry trumpet echoing amongst the torrs.

Shading my eyes with my hand, I gazed down the valley. Upon the winding road from Exeter, and still some two miles distant, I saw the scarlet coats and glittering accoutrements of a regiment of horse upon the march. And upon the leading files approaching nearer, I was no less surprised to recognise my own comrades of the Tangier Horse. At the sight I turned the sorrel’s head, drove in my spurs, and rode down to meet the approaching column. I received a hearty welcome from my fellow-officers, and a few minutes later I was riding side by side with Colonel Savage, a man as much disliked and feared as was the brutal Kirke himself.

In answer to the questions that he put to me, I gave him a brief account of my adventures, omitting much, however, relating to my lady; for the coarse jests of the men around me upon the nature of my present duty grated with an unwonted distaste upon my ear.

Yet these were the men with whom I had been content to ruffle it with the best—nay, even to be looked upon as a sort of leader, on the reputation of my swordsmanship. I, a gentleman of family! At the thought a sudden rush of shame pervaded me.

“So this is Cleeve,” the colonel said abruptly. We had reached the entrance gates. “I would I had the harrying of yonder dove cot. But that my orders to advance admit of no delay I would visit it as in the days of ’88.”

’Twas my turn now to do the questioning, and in reply he told me they were bound for Plymouth, whither every soldier in the county was being hurried, since the French fleet, under Tourville, was hovering off the coast and a descent upon the town was daily expected. Also, that in Ireland affairs had reached a crisis. William, with an army of not less than thirty thousand men, was in full march southwards; whilst James had retreated from his camp at Dundalk and thrown himself into Drogheda. It was expected that a battle would be fought in the immediate vicinity of Dublin.

All this and more—for of the doings of the outer world I had but scanty news—he told me as we rode; so that it was with surprise I found that we had reached the outskirts of the village. A deep frown gathered on the colonel’s face as at our appearance the troopers hastened from the houses.

“The rogues grow lazy,” he said grimly. “I will promise them no lack of work between here and Plymouth.”

“Plymouth?” I said inquiringly.

“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Do you suppose that I can leave three-score troopers rotting here when every man is needed in the south?”

“But——” I began in some dismay.

“There is no ‘but’ about it,” he said impatiently. “My orders are strict. Nevertheless, I will strain a point in your favour. You shall have a dozen men.”

“A dozen men?” I cried incredulously—“a dozen men to guard this place?”

“And that is ten too many,” he replied. “What? Are you afraid of a set of country clodpoles, who could not tell a sabre from a scythe?”

“Yet even a scythe may form a dangerous weapon, as Sedgemoor proved,” I said tartly.

“Bah!” he replied contemptuously. We were dismounting in the courtyard of the inn as he spoke. “’Tis not like you, Cassilis, to reckon odds. A pity, indeed, if a dozen men cannot order a parcel of beer-swilling clowns, who would scuttle to their burrows fast enough at the snapping of a pistol. But who the devil have we here?”

I looked up quickly at the words. We were approaching the steps in a body when the door of the inn suddenly opened and a man came hastily out.

He was dressed in riding costume, and as he halted in surprise at sight of us, I saw that it was the young baronet, my lady’s cousin.

“Permit me, colonel,” I said, stepping forward, “to bring to your acquaintance Sir Rupert Courtenay, of Clevedon Hall.”

“Courtenay?” said the colonel, frowning. “I knew a Courtenay years ago in Flanders.”

“My father fell at Teneffe,” the young baronet replied with visible impatience.

“What?” cried the other heartily. “You are the son of Richard Courtenay—‘Fighting Dick’ we called him—my old comrade in arms? The most rampant Papist and prince of good fellows that ever drew sword from scabbard. Aye, aye! I can trace the likeness now. But ’tis no place for discussion, this. You will join us within.”

“Your pardon,” stammered the young man, who, I could not help seeing, was considerably embarrassed at his words, “but—there is an appointment——”

“With a woman, I’ll warrant,” the colonel said quickly; then noticing the flush upon the other’s face: “Tchut! women will keep. And I will even hold you my prisoner for the time and so preserve you from temptation. Nay, I will take no denial, sir,” he continued peremptorily. “You shall share the honours of our table, and we will crack a bottle to your father’s memory.”

Accordingly the whole party followed them to the inn parlour, whither the landlord was speedily summoned to attend their wants. But as for me, in the confusion caused by our arrival I passed unnoticed from the room and left the inn.

CHAPTER VIII
OF THE DUEL IN THE WOOD

Once, however, in the open air I paused; and then, with no fixed intention in my mind, I slowly crossed the yard and peered in at the open stable; and here, indeed, a surprise awaited me, for a horse, which I recognized as belonging to the young baronet, and upon which he had twice visited the manor, was standing unsaddled in the nearest stall.

Wrapped in thought, I stood staring at the animal before me. From the inn came a confused babel of voices, the clatter of crockery, the clink of cups, and now and again a burst of laughter. But to all this I gave no heed, for my brain was thinking deeply. What was Sir Rupert Courtenay doing here? And, seeing that he lived but some three miles distant, for Clevedon Hall was the old mansion I had seen from the summit of Cleevesborough nestling in the trees, what purpose could he have in putting up his horse at the village inn? That he was bound for the manor I did not doubt. But would any man forsake his horse at the village to walk the remainder of the way on foot? The idea was preposterous. And then I remembered his confusion at the colonel’s words, and the appointment he had mentioned, and a sudden light broke on me, and all was plain. He had come to meet my lady, was in her confidence, a sharer of her schemes! Dolt that I was, not to have thought of it before! He had come to meet my lady—but where?

A few moments thought, and it flashed upon me like an inspiration.

At the beginning of the village, where the parkland surrounding the manor ceased and the first scattered houses of the street began, parallel with the road, a narrow winding path ran through the woods. I had stumbled upon it by accident when first I came to Cleeve, and though I fancied it was seldom used, save by the servants of the manor in their errands to and from the village, ’twas an ideal spot, I vow, in which to hold a tryst. Aye, and as the memory of it grew upon me the very spot itself was mirrored clear before my eyes.

At one place in the wood, where the pathway widened to an open clearing, a little rustic bridge was thrown across a stream. ’Twas here, if anywhere, that they were like to meet. If only I could make my way to this spot unperceived and conceal myself in the vicinity, it was more than likely that I should learn the meaning of these mysteries. True, ’twas not an honourable part to play eavesdropper, but I consoled myself for what misgivings I had upon the subject with the thought that all was fair in war, and that if the part was thus forced upon me, why, ’twas my lady herself who was to blame for it.

With my resolution formed, I roused myself for action. I knew that for the execution of my project I had time to spare, for I was well assured, however urgent were his orders to advance, the colonel would not yet release his guest. Accordingly, unnoticed by any one within, I passed across the yard and gained the village street, threading my way between groups of men and horses, until I stumbled at length upon the man I sought, the one-eyed sergeant of my troop, and to him I gave instructions to secure my horse and to choose a dozen men on whom he could rely, and with these, upon the regiment’s departure, to take possession of the inn and to await my further orders.

He saluted in return, and I watched his burly figure go clanking down the street. Then satisfied that I had at least one tried and cunning soldier to uphold me, I continued on my way.

When I had left the village behind me and had reached the woods, I turned sharply to the right, and at a distance of some two hundred yards from the road I came to the entrance of the little path. As I stepped into the cool shadow of the trees, I paused irresolutely, as a sudden thought struck me. What if it was not my lady he had come to meet, but Mistress Grace! I had seen enough with my own eyes to convince me that there was a warmer feeling existing between them than mere cousinly affection. Was all my cunning scheme to end in witnessing a lover’s meeting?

Almost I had persuaded myself that this was indeed the case, and I was strongly tempted to retrace my steps. But the memory of the dark, mysterious vessel I had seen deterred me from my purpose, and again I set my face resolutely towards the house, and at the next turning in the path I came upon something by which my ardour was considerably stimulated, for fluttering from a thorn bush beside the track was a shred of scarlet cloth.

I took this tell-tale witness in my hand and closely examined it. It was of the same material as the coat I wore, and had been but recently torn from its wearer, for now that I gazed about me, my suspicions roused, in a patch of moist turf at my feet I saw the fresh print of a man’s spurred heel. I gazed eagerly ahead; but the pathway so wound and twisted that I could not see a dozen feet before me—only the hot sun slanted through the leaves above and fell upon the thickets of brier, and bush and bracken that walled me in on either side with a hedge of emerald green.

I listened, but no sound reached my ear save the hum of insect life around me and the sough of the wind in the whispering trees. Yet who was the man who had recently passed along this path? And why should a trooper be wandering in the woods?

The more I thought of this, the more it puzzled me. I could hazard no conjecture as to the man’s identity, still less as to his purpose. Only, with a growing uneasiness, I loosened my sword in its sheath and advanced more cautiously, searching the bushes on either side.

It may have been for some quarter of a mile I had proceeded thus when, upon drawing near to the little clearing, on a sudden I heard the sound of a man’s deep voice and a woman’s startled cry.

At the sound I slipped amongst the bushes on my left, and forcing my way through their tangled growth, at the turning of the path I parted the leafy screen before me and gazed across the little clearing.

Two figures met my eyes. In the woman standing with her back to me I had no difficulty in recognising my lady; but, dazzled by the sunlight, I was forced to look twice at the man who faced her at the head of the bridge, barring her progress—the man dressed in the uniform of the Tangier Horse—ere I clearly perceived his features. It was De Brito!

De Brito! The sight of him came as a revelation to me. For at once I remembered that I had not seen him at the village when the regiment rode in, though in the incidents following our arrival this fact had escaped my memory. But the explanation of his presence in the manor woods I had yet to learn, and I bent my attention on the scene before me.

What had already passed between them I could only guess, but my lady was now speaking.

“Are you aware, sir, that this is private ground?” she said clearly.

“Private?” De Brito answered mockingly. “Aye, aye! A sweet spot for a meeting. But seeing that the recreant lover is but a laggard, why, you should thank me, mistress, that I am here to take his place.”

“Whoever you may be I do not know,” my lady answered, her figure trembling with surprise and passion, “but be assured of this, your insolence to me shall not go long unpunished. And now, stand aside.”

“Oho! you think to frighten me with fine words, do you, madam?” he sneered, his evil smile replaced by an ugly frown. “Not so fast, my dainty dove; you came hither for your own pleasure, you will remain awhile for mine.”

“Let me pass,” my lady replied, advancing boldly towards him.

But she had mistaken her man. Instead of giving place to her, he took two steps forward and gripped her wrists.

“You shall pass fast enough, mistress,” he said roughly, “but first I will even take toll of those ripe lips; for who passes, pays.” And despite her struggles he strove to draw her towards him. Up till now I had remained a silent spectator of the scene; nay, I had even felt a thrill of satisfaction that my lady should see that not every one would treat her with the same forbearance that I had shown towards her; but when he laid hands upon her a sudden flame of anger took possession of me, and I sprang into the open space.

“You hound!” I cried.

At my words, releasing his hold upon my lady’s wrists, he stepped backwards, a circumstance of which I was not slow to take advantage by placing myself between him and the bridge. But his surprise once mastered, he faced me with a lowering brow.

“So,” he said sneeringly after a moment’s pause, “the recreant lover arrives. Now I understand, and I congratulate you, mistress, on your choice.”

“You fool!” was all I could stammer, so taken aback was I at his words; “what do you mean?”

“What I say,” he answered in the same sneering tone. “We were blind not to have suspected it before. ’Tis not the first time a pretty face has caused a man to change sides. And I come between you, do I?” he continued darkly. “I am a spoil-sport, am I? Yours, and that——”

I checked the foul word on his lips by a blow that sent him reeling backwards, when, his spurred heel catching in a projecting root, he fell heavily to the ground.

Throughout the foregoing scene my lady had remained standing in the same spot, as if doubtful what course to take.

“Go, madam,” I said quietly, unsheathing my sword and placing myself to cover her retreat, though without daring to take my eyes from the man before me.

As the latter rose slowly to his feet I heard my lady’s receding footsteps cross the bridge and die away upon the woodland path, and in another minute I had need of all my skill to meet the attack of the man before me, for with a furious oath he drew his sword and flung himself upon me, and our blades met to the sound of the music that I loved so well.

From the first I read murder in his eyes, and so fierce, indeed, was his attack that I was driven back to the bank of the stream; and it was only when I felt myself upon the very edge of this that I realised my danger. I dared not turn my head, but instinctively I knew that one step backwards and I should fall some four feet to the bed of the stream, where, penned between its narrow banks, I was practically at my opponent’s mercy, and what form this latter would take I read all too clearly in his blood-shot eyes. He saw his advantage, too, for with a short cry of triumph he redoubled his efforts, so that I tottered on the very brink. But his very confidence of success was like to have been his undoing, for rallying myself with the courage of despair, I parried his furious lunges and thrust so shrewdly in return that I laid his cheek open from brow to chin.

Startled for a moment by the suddenness of the attack, and blinded by the blood that sprang freely from the wound, he threw himself violently backward, thus narrowly escaping the second thrust with which I followed up my advantage.

But the respite thus afforded me was sufficient. I sprang lightly aside and renewed the fight upon more equal terms. Once, indeed, we paused as if by mutual consent, and faced each other with dripping brows and labouring breath. But in a few moments’ time we fell to it again, and the glade resounded to the rasping of our blades, that thrust and parried, twined and clicked together like sentient things of evil; whilst the sun lay hot upon the clearing and the birds flew chattering from the surrounding woods. And once again I narrowly escaped with my life, for as we circled round each other I stumbled over the very root that had previously caused his downfall, and though I sprang instantly aside, so near was the fierce thrust that he aimed at me that his point shredded the cambric at my throat.

Up till now I had been acting mostly on the defensive, but roused by this last attack to sudden passion, and conscious of a thin trickle of blood upon my breast that warned me how near had been my peril, I called all my skill to my aid and began to press him in my turn.

And from that moment the aspect of the fight altered, for good sword though the man was, his intemperate habits were against him, and whereas, minute by minute, as the fight proceeded I felt myself growing cooler and settled more steadily to my work, the sweat gathered thicker on his brow and his chest heaved in panting breaths to his exertions. Thickset as the man was, and like a bull for strength, I felt his thrusts momentarily grow weaker, and foot by foot I pressed him backwards across the open space—back until he could retreat no further by reason of the encircling trees; and then, as I felt his pressure on my blade diminish, twice I drove him round the little clearing. Nor for all his renewed efforts could he make headway against me or even hold his ground.

Once he rallied, twice he rallied, but my wrist was iron and I would not be denied. And with my glittering point ever at his breast, looking into my grim face, I think he tasted then the bitterness of death. Think? Nay, I know. I could read in his dilated eyes, in the snarling, blood-streaked lips, that reminded me of naught so much as of a trapped wolf, that he realised that he was mastered. The man was no coward, as I knew, but reading my purpose by his own, small blame to him that the shadow of doom gathered upon his face, or that as for a third time I drove him before me, a low groan escaped his lips.

“Curse you!” he gasped hoarsely, parrying wildly; “finish it, and be——”

And even as he spoke the end came, for putting aside a still wilder thrust, I slipped within his guard and wounded him in the wrist.

At that the sword fell from his nerveless fingers, and staggering to the nearest tree, he leaned against its knotted trunk, while the blood dripped steadily upon the grass and his breath came in long-drawn, labouring sobs. And at this moment from the direction of the village the trumpets of the regiment sounded the “assembly.” The sound was wafted clearly to our ears upon the breeze, and I saw De Brito start and straighten himself ere turning to me with a puzzled frown.

“Well,” he said hoarsely, “what are you going to do?”

For answer I pushed his sword towards him with my foot.

“There is your sword,” I said shortly, “and the regiment is in the village. You should know as well as I the meaning of that trumpet call. For the rest, Señor de Brito, I am glad that our paths lie for the present wide apart.”

Still for a moment he glowered on me, relief struggling with hate upon his face. Then he stooped and raised his sword.

“You are a fool,” he said slowly, sheathing his blade and hastily twisting a handkerchief round his wounded wrist. “A while ago I should have killed you without scruple.”

“I am not an assassin,” I said coldly.

“On your head be it, then,” he answered sneeringly. “Only the matter does not end here, and if you live long enough there shall yet be a heavy reckoning between us. No, curse you!” he added with sudden passion, “you have not seen the last of Heitor de Brito.” And with a look of baffled hate, he turned upon his heel. Long after the sound of his footsteps had died away in the woods I stood where he had left me, pondering upon the events of the last half hour.

Indeed, it was only when from the village there came another long-drawn blast sounding the “advance” that I roused myself to a sense of my surroundings. Then sheathing my sword, I quenched my burning thirst at the stream, and having freely bathed my face and hands and ascertained that the wound upon my neck was a mere scratch—scarce more than skin deep, indeed—I turned to leave the spot. Yet now that the fierce excitement of the moment was past and had given place to the inevitable reaction, I began to ask myself what I had gained by championing my lady’s cause, and to count the cost of my interference. What was it to me that she should meet with insult, or that for her sake I should make for myself a ruthless enemy?

My present position was by no means so secure as I could have wished it to be. Here was I isolated from all assistance in this out-of-the-way village, with but a dozen troopers at my back, in the midst of a people notoriously hostile to us, and, for all I knew, a whole regiment of Jacobites in the vessel I had seen in the bay. The prospect was not encouraging.

“He leaned against its knotted trunk, while the blood dripped steadily upon the grass”

And upon reaching the village I had an example of the effect that the presence of so small a number of my men remaining there produced, in the altered demeanour of the villagers themselves; for whereas before they had scarcely dared to show themselves in the street, now upon every doorstep and in the open space before the inn excited groups were gathered, above which sounded the shrill voices of the women and the low muttering of the men.

This clamour, indeed, fell to silence as I passed, but was renewed with double vehemence when my back was turned. To this, however, I paid no heed, but looking neither to the right nor left, I strode down the street, the excited groups making way for me readily enough at the sight of my grim visage and clanking sword.

I found that the sergeant had faithfully carried out my orders by withdrawing with his party to the inn, for I deemed that this latter building was the most capable of being held by a dozen resolute men in the event of their being besieged, though that fate should play them so scurvy a trick I did not anticipate.

Still, I determined that I would give my lady no single loophole by which she might contrive to outwit me. So true is it that a fool will pride himself on his acuteness even in the midst of his folly, though this lesson was more fully inculcated on my mind by subsequent events.

Conformable to the plan that I had conceived in my own brain, I took the sergeant aside and warned him to be strictly on his guard against surprise, arranging that two pistol shots in rapid succession should be the mutual signal of danger between us. But so comfortable was the aspect of the inn parlour, of which the troopers had already taken possession, and the welcome sight of the familiar uniforms with their reassuring air of security, that again I was sorely tempted to remove my quarters thither also. Surely it was my pride only that prevented me.

Glancing through the open window, I saw a trooper bringing my horse from the stable, and again I cautioned the sergeant to look well to the safety of their own animals and to make certain that the liquor with which the troopers were served had not been previously tampered with.

“No fear of that,” he said with a grin, pointing to two unopened casks of ale which they had already rolled into the room. “He will be a clever man who touches that whilst we are present.”

Nevertheless, I could see that although as a soldier he was inclined to look down upon the villagers as a set of ignorant rustics, he was visibly impressed on hearing of the vessel I had seen, and I believed that I could trust him to look well to the safety of his party. With a few parting words to the men themselves, I mounted my horse and rode away.

Again as I clattered up the street I was the mark of all eyes, but I fancied that the groups showed more reluctance to make way for me.

At the door of the blacksmith’s forge, round which were gathered some dozen of the hardiest men left in the village, I caught sight of Sampson Dare, towering a head and shoulders above the rest, and at the same moment his eyes met mine with a glance full of menace and defiance there was no mistaking. Yet I made as if I did not see, and in accordance with my assumed air of indifference, with hand on hip and lightly humming a little air, I passed them by and so rode slowly to the manor. But here I could gain no information that would enlighten me upon the events of the day, though I spent an hour in pacing the terrace walks, keeping a watchful eye upon the house. From there I made my way to the cliffs; but though I gazed eagerly seawards, I could see no trace of the mysterious vessel of the morning. To the horizon the surface of the sea was bare of any sail.

Again I returned to the house, half hoping that I might yet find my lady waiting to tender me her thanks for the service I had rendered her in the wood.

But again I was disappointed; my lady was nowhere to be seen. And a few hours later that happened which drove all speculation upon her conduct from my mind. It was drawing towards ten of the clock, and I was lingering at the table after my evening meal, when I was startled by a loud and prolonged knocking proceeding from the direction of the main entrance.

So urgent, indeed, was the clamour that I sprang instantly to my feet, and thrusting the pistols which I kept ever handy into my sash, I caught up my sword and hurried into the hall. And this indeed so quickly, that ere any of the servants had reached the spot I had flung open the massive door.

Outside in the dusk was one of the troopers. He was panting heavily as if he had been running.

The sight of his face confirmed my forebodings.

“What is it?” I cried quickly.

“The horses!” he gasped.

“The horses?” I repeated sharply. “What of them? Speak, man!”

“Are gone!” he continued, leaning against the door post.

“Gone?” I cried incredulously. “Gone? Do you mean to tell me, man, that they could remove a dozen horses from the stable, from beneath your open windows, without you seeing them? You were drunk, you knaves!” I said fiercely.

“It is not true,” he answered sullenly, recovering his breath somewhat. “And for the stable, ’tis a wooden shed. They had removed the boards at back—and the stalls are empty. But that is not all. For Long Marsden——”

“Aye!” I cried impatiently. “What of him?”

“He had gone to see how they fared, and——”

“Is missing, too?”

“No,” he answered slowly; “he is not missing; but——”

“Where is he?” I cried, grasping the fellow’s arm so that he winced.

“In the stocks!” he replied.

“In the stocks?”

I stepped back a pace or two and gazed at the man in blank astonishment.

“Aye,” he added hastily. “He had been stunned as he entered the stable door. Ten minutes later we found him with a broken head in the stocks, and the key is missing!”

Still I could do nothing but stare stupidly at the fellow, until the silence following his words was broken by a low laugh from behind me. I turned quickly at the sound.

In the doorway upon my left, and so close that she must have heard every word between us, stood my lady. And at the sight of her a sudden rage possessed me.

“So, madam!” I cried passionately. “I believe I have to thank you for this.”

I could not make out her face clearly, for she stood in the shadow of the doorway—only her white-robed figure and her sparkling eyes.

“For what, sir?” she replied in a voice in which amusement struggled with contempt. “For stealing your horses?”

“That and this other outrage!” I continued, striving to hide my mortification, and succeeding, I fear, but ill. “’Twas done by your orders and you know by whom.”

Again she laughed mockingly, a laugh that stung me worse than any words of scorn.

“Would you question me as to their names, sir—with the flame of a candle?” she replied. “I have heard that is a gentle method of yours!” I remembered the sergeant’s threat to the steward, and I coloured hotly at her words.

“No, madam,” I answered when I could speak, “for I should as little expect truth from your lips as I should look to you for gratitude!” And without further words I turned and, closely followed by the trooper, ran down the steps.

Once in the road, however, I was forced to restrain my impatience and to slacken my pace, for the man beside me was little used to running, and, moreover, was exhausted by his previous exertions. I questioned him closely, therefore, as to the details of what had passed. From this I gathered that just before their supper was served the man whom they called Long Marsden had taken a lantern and stepped across to the stables to see that all was safe there, as one or other of the men had done at short intervals throughout the evening. That at first his absence caused no uneasiness, but when ten minutes had elapsed and he did not return, their suspicions were aroused, and two of their number were sent to look for him. That they found the stable door bolted on the inside, and upon this being forced open, they found a great gap in the back wall of the shed, where half a dozen boards had been removed and the horses gone. More, the lantern lay upon the ground and a thin trail of blood led through the opening. This they had followed round the adjacent buildings until they came to the square before the inn. Here, in the shadow of the court-house, they saw a dark mass huddled in the village stocks, which proved to be the body of the missing trooper. He was quite insensible, and was bleeding freely from a gash upon the forehead; and the stocks being secured by a heavy padlock, all their efforts to force it had proved unavailing.

And all this, be it understood, had happened within a hundred feet of the inn.

“But did you see no one, man?” I said at length.

“Not a soul,” he replied. “The place might be deserted.”

And upon reaching the village, I found this last statement fully verified; for the street lay empty and silent under the moon. Not a light showed in any of the houses on either side. All was darkness and silence.

And rendered even more uneasy by this ominous silence than by the open clamour of a few hours previous, I passed hastily up the street to where the moonlight fell upon a group of scarlet-coated figures gathered round the framework of the stocks.

As I approached the sergeant detached himself from the group and came to meet me.

“He is coming to,” he said briefly, saluting.

I said no word to him, good or bad; but as they made way for me in silence, I knelt down by the side of the unfortunate trooper. He was half conscious, indeed, and moaned frequently as if in pain. A brief examination showed me that his wound was not so serious as it had at first appeared, and that it was more from the shock of the blow that the man was suffering. I next turned my attention to the stocks themselves. The upper or sliding portion was fastened to the lower by an iron hasp and staple, through the latter of which passed a heavy padlock, strong enough to resist all the efforts of the troopers’ swords.

Presently I rose to my feet.

“Six of you follow me,” I said shortly. And I turned and walked swiftly back to the blacksmith’s cottage.

Upon the door of this latter I rapped loudly with the hilt of my sword. The noise went echoing down the silent street, and we stood waiting for what should follow. Nevertheless it was fully three minutes before a window above was opened and a man thrust out his head.

“What do you want?” he said in a sleepy voice—assumed, I had no doubt. And I recognized him as one of the men whom I had seen with Sampson Dare.

“You!” I answered sharply. “To come down and open the door!”

“Open the door?” he answered. “A likely thing that! Who be you who come disturbing honest folk at this hour? I would have you know I have a gun here for thieves, and——”

“Hark you, fellow!” I cried sternly, stepping out where the moonlight fell full upon my face, while six pistols covered him. “If the door be not open in two minutes I will blow in the lock and serve you as I served the steward yonder. Do you hear, you knave?” I continued fiercely. “You shall hang, on my word of honour!” For here I had no women to deal with.

Perhaps he read in my face that I should keep my word—perhaps the fate that had overtaken the steward’s obstinacy decided him.

“Wait,” he said slowly, disappearing from the window. Presently he opened the door.

“Now what do you want of me?” he said sullenly.

“To release the man,” I said sharply.

“I have not the key,” he replied.

“Ah!” I said slowly. “And how know you that we desired a key, my friend? Your own words convict you. No, no,” I continued with a sneer, as he could find no words in answer; “you have not the key, of course, and the village has not the key—but you have tools here, Master Blacksmith, and strong arms to wield them. So get you speedily what you require, if you would not swing at your own door.”

In short, a few minutes later found us back at the stocks, and the blacksmith began his task. Nevertheless, so stout was the iron, that it required a full twenty minutes’ filing ere the man was released from his unpleasant position. They carried him into the inn, and having seen him restored to consciousness and his wound dressed, I set about considering our position. As to who were his actual assailants the man himself could give no information, for he had been struck down ere he had advanced two steps within the stable. And the horses? ’Twas worse than folly to search for them by night, and by this time they were no doubt miles away, or hidden in some secluded spot amongst the torrs.

And both the landlord and his assistants swore so volubly that they knew nothing of the occurrence, for that they were serving the troopers at the time, that, strongly as I suspected them, I could prove nothing.

And so soundly rating the troopers for their carelessness, I returned presently to the manor, but not to rest. For I sat watching and listening at the open window, with my pistols at my side and sword unsheathed, until the first streaks of dawn were lightening the sky. Not till then did I throw myself upon my couch and court forgetfulness in slumber.

Ah, my lady, my lady! The game to be played out between us has opened in your favour! Who will secure the final trick?

CHAPTER IX
OF HOW MY LADY PLAYED DELILAH

Brightly the sunshine streamed into my little room on this the first of July, 1690, a day destined to become famous in the history of Ireland, and with its dawn to usher a new era into that misgoverned island.

I sprang from my couch with nerves braced for the duties of the coming day. I was not without some misgivings that I might find my own horse to be missing. But upon opening the stable door, there was the sorrel standing in the stall, apparently unharmed. And much relieved in my own mind as regarded his safety, I led him into the yard, and mounting, rode swiftly to the village.

Here I found the sergeant and his men awaiting my arrival and eager to commence the search for the missing animals. But I was not minded to leave the inn wholly unguarded, and, moreover, the wounded man was still weak from the blow he had received and the subsequent loss of blood, and was ill fitted to take part in what might prove an arduous undertaking. I left the sergeant and three men, therefore, to keep him company, all fully armed and this time alert enough against surprise, and with the remaining eight troopers at my heels commenced the search. The track of the horses led from the stables to a little stream some hundred yards away, and there abruptly ceased. As this stream came from the torrs, I felt convinced that it was there we should look for them, probably hidden in some secluded hut, or in one of the many boulder-strewn hollows that lay amongst the hills. We turned our faces, therefore, in that direction, scattering on both sides of the stream and striving to pick up the lost trail.

But though we advanced some four miles thus, there was no sign of any tracks having left the water, and the farther we advanced, the wilder grew the scenery. Hitherto we had been ascending a series of gentle slopes, with scattered clumps of trees here and there, that grew into a dense wood on the summit of a hill immediately in front of us.

When we had descended into the valley beyond, we found ourselves completely shut in by the torrs, with nothing on either side of us but the desolate, treeless slopes with their monotonous covering of withered grass. And to add to our discomfort, the sun was gaining in power. Yet this, indeed, gave way presently to still wilder scenery than any we had yet met with; for what had before been mere hollows between the hills soon changed into deep glens, in any one of which a regiment might safely have been hidden away without discovery. Small wonder, then, that in diligently searching amongst these we soon became hopelessly lost; nor for all our endeavours could we again find the way by which we had come. Nay, more, we had so turned and doubled in the course of the last half hour that I was completely at a loss as to the direction in which Cleeve now lay. For all I knew every step that we advanced might be taking us farther and farther away from it. And seeing this, about noon I called a halt in a deep glen, where an overhanging bank afforded us some protection from the sun, though the stifling heat of the hollow was well-nigh unbearable. And here we dined upon the scanty fare with which each man had provided himself before leaving the village, though in this respect my sorrel came but poorly off, for of water there was none. As for me, small appetite had I for food, being, indeed, a prey to the keenest anxiety. A hundred times I blamed myself for proceeding so far and for thus abandoning the little party at the inn.

What might not have happened in our absence? Granted they were well armed and forewarned against surprise, nevertheless, small chance had four men against forty, and ’twas not so much with force I feared they had to deal as guile.

Yet the day was wearing on, and here were we powerless to render them any assistance. I sprang impatiently to my feet, and leaving the troopers to their meal, I climbed the hillside above; for it was not improbable that from the summit I might obtain sight of some landmark that might give me a clue as to our whereabouts. But again disappointment awaited me. There was nothing to be seen but a ring of encircling hills, devoid, so far as I could see, of human habitation. With a bitter curse at my own stupidity I descended the hill, and again we set out in the direction in which I imagined Cleeve lay.

But this, it seemed, was but to entangle us worse amongst the hills; and for hours we wandered in a network of narrow ravines, each of which exactly resembled its fellow, and seemed but to mock us by its similarity. Of our subsequent wanderings I prefer to say but little. It was not, however, until sunset that, footsore and weary, we arrived once more at the village.

No sooner did we come in sight of the inn than I was reassured as to the safety of the men I had left behind by the sight of the sergeant placidly smoking in the open doorway. In the street beyond a few rustics were standing at their doors, or chatted to one another across the street; and the whole scene was as peaceful an aspect as any village in England. Whilst the men were quenching their thirst with copious draughts of ale, I drew the sergeant aside and questioned him as to what had happened in our absence. It was in doing this that, glancing through the open window near which we were standing, I saw one of the troopers watering my horse in the yard. This done, he turned and led him towards the stable. But no sooner had he flung open the door than the empty bucket fell from his hand, and he uttered a shout that brought us running to his side. He was still standing, staring into the shed as if petrified.

“What is it? What do you see, man?” I cried as I approached.

“Look,” he answered, pointing, with a white face, within. “They are there!”

I flung him aside and peered eagerly into the stable. I could not believe my eyes; for there, in the very place which we had quitted twelve hours before on our fruitless quest, a dozen horses were standing in the stalls.

“But they are gone, man! They are gone!” I stammered stupidly when I had recovered the use of my tongue.

“Aye, they are gone,” said the sergeant laconically, “as you see.”

But now as the fact of their reappearance became plain to all, from the weary, sweating troopers there burst such a chorus of profanity as caused the horses themselves to turn their heads in mild surprise. As for me, I leaned against the doorway, and the ludicrousness of the situation striking me, gave way to unrestrained laughter—laughter, however, which had in it more of relief than mirth. For consider for a moment the situation. Here was the mare’s nest of danger that I had been raising to myself all day resolved into nothing more than a practical jest, designed, I had no doubt, by my lady to cause us annoyance.

While we had spent the day in tramping the countryside in useless search, the horses had been snugly concealed most likely in a cottage near at hand. The trick was humiliating, to say the least of it. On one point, however, it set me at rest. Surely they would not have returned the horses had they contemplated any sinister design against us. Nevertheless, in order to guard against a repetition of surprise, I bade two of the troopers sleep in the loft above the stable. And I also resolved to seek an explanation of my lady at the earliest opportunity.

Returning to the inn, I gave the sergeant a few further instructions, promising, indeed, to return again at ten o’clock to see that all was done to ensure safety for the night; and this in the presence of the landlord, though the significance of this fact did not occur to me till long afterwards.

This done, I ordered my horse to the door, and arming myself ere leaving the inn with a weapon which I thought might prove useful in the coming interview that I promised myself, I mounted my horse and rode away.

Arriving at the manor, I found the same lifelessness there that had characterised it on the preceding day, but little I recked of this at the time, for my mind was fully engrossed in thinking what I should say to my lady and in speculating upon her reply. I dismounted at the stables and gave the weary sorrel into the charge of the youth Martin who was loitering there. As I flung him the rein, “See that he is ready saddled for me in an hour’s time,” I said quietly. For answer he made a wry face and moved away with a short, derisive laugh.

I stood gazing after him in undisguised astonishment. At any other time, when my mind had not been so preoccupied, I should have chastised the young boor for his insolence. As it was, I shrugged my shoulders contemptuously and turned away. Bah! ’twas only natural, after all. Like mistress, like man! I lingered for awhile upon the terrace, loth to go indoors, until the last purple tints faded from the western sky and the soft July night wrapped the house and gardens in its silent embrace. Anon, the full moon rose above Cleevesborough, silvering the surrounding oaks and streaking the grass with their checkered shadows. Presently with a half drawn sigh I rose from the terrace wall upon which I had been leaning and passed slowly into the house. Within doors I met with the same monastic silence, though I found the candles lighted and my supper awaiting me in the dining hall; and laying aside my encumbering weapons, I applied myself to the dishes before me with all the zest of a starving man. When my hunger was appeased I filled my glass, and leaning back in my chair, gave myself up to my thoughts. And who shall say into what realms of fancy my thoughts strayed, or what dream faces of the future I saw in the flickering flame of the candles before me. Only I know that the dark eyes of my lady of Cleeve looked out at me, and her proud, elusive face stared at me from the shadows of the room. I strove to bring my mind back to the events of the past day, and the more convinced I became that the whole plot had originated in her fertile mind. For what object I had yet to learn. A glance at the clock convinced me that it was too late to seek an interview with her that night—to-morrow I would demand of her an explanation. And in the possession of that which I carried in my breast, I fancied that I should meet with some consideration at her hands. I roused myself at length from these reflections, and rising, took my cloak from the chair where I had laid it, and proceeded to buckle on my sword. This done I laid my loaded pistols upon the table, and raising my half-emptied glass to my lips, drained its contents preparatory to taking my departure.

“Captain Cassilis!” said a soft voice clearly.