by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER II
MR. WOGAN REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE AN UNDESIRABLE ACQUAINTANCE IN ST. JAMES'S STREET
Mr. Wogan left Paris early the next morning without a thought for thedespatch-box that he had sent to Kelly, and, coming to Cadiz, sailedwith the Spaniards out of that harbour on the tenth of March, and intothe great storm which dispersed the fleet off Cape Finisterre. Incompany with the Earl Marischal and the Marquis of Tullibardine, hewas aboard one of those two ships which alone touched the coast ofScotland. Consequently, he figured with better men, as Field-MarshalKeith, and his brother the Ambassador, and my Lord George Murray, inthat little skirmish at Glenshiel, and very thankful he was when thenight shut black upon the valleys and put its limit to the attack ofGeneral Wightman's soldiers from Inverness. A council of war was heldin the dark upon a hill-side, whence the fires of General Wightman'scamp could be seen twinkling ruddily below, but Wogan heard little ofwhat was disputed, for he went to sleep with his back against aboulder and dreamed of his ancestors. He was waked up about the middleof the night by the Earl Marischal, who informed him that theSpaniards had determined to surrender at discretion, and that thehandful of Highlanders were already dispersing to their homes.
'As for ourselves, we shall make for the Western Islands and waitthere for a ship to take us off.'
'Then I'll wish you luck and a ship,' said Wogan. He stood up andshook the dew off his cloak. 'I have friends in London, and I'll trustmy lucky star to get me there.'
'Your star's in eclipse,' said the Earl. 'You will never reach Londonexcept it be with your legs tied under a horse's belly.'
'Well, I'm thinking you have not such a clear path after all to theWestern Islands! Did you never hear of my forefather, Thomas Wogan,that rode with twenty-eight Cavaliers through the heart of Cromwell'sEngland, and came safe into the Highlands? Sure what that great mancould do with twenty-eight companions to make him conspicuous, hisdegenerate son can do alone.'
Mr. Wogan began his journey by walking over the hill, near to the topof which his friends had been driven off the road to Inverness by theEnglish fire, which was very well nourished. He made his way to LochDuich, as they call it, and so by boat round Ardnamurchan, to a hamletthey call Oban. There he changed his dress for the Campbell black andgreen, and, joining company with a drove of Rob Roy's cattle from theLennox, travelled to Glasgow. His Irish brogue no doubt sounded atrifle strange in a Highland drover, but he was in a country where thepeople were friendly. At Glasgow he changed his dress again for asnuff-coloured bourgeois suit, and so rode into England by the oldCarlisle and Preston route, which he had known very well in the year1715.
Wogan was at this time little more than a lad, though full-grownenough to make a man and a good-sized boy into the bargain, and theexploit of the Cavalier Thomas Wogan, as it had prompted his design,so it exhilarated him in the execution. He went lightly on his way,weaving all manner of chivalric tales about his ancestor, to the greatincrease of his own vanity, bethinking him when he stopped for an hourat a wayside inn that here, too, perhaps Thomas Wogan had reined inhis horse, and maybe had taken a draught from that very pint-pot whichNicholas now held to his lips. Thus the late burst up the hill-sideabove the Shiel was quickly robbed of its sting, and by the time thathe had reached London he was so come to a pitch of confidence in thehigh destinies of the Wogan family that, after leaving his horse inthe charge of Mr. Gunning, of Mussell Hill, whom he knew of old as astaunch friend of George Kelly's, and borrowing from him a moresuitable raiment than his stained travelling dress, he must needs walkdown St. James's Street with no more disguise than the tilting of hishat over his nose, and the burying of his chin in his cravat.
Soon Mr. Wogan's confidence and, with his confidence, his legs werebrought to a sudden check. For when he was come half-way down the hillhe saw the figure of one Captain Montague in the uniform of the Guardsturn the corner out of Ryder Street and walk towards him. Wogan hadmet the officer before on an occasion of which he did not wish at thisparticular moment to be reminded. He wheeled about, took a step ortwo, and so came again to a halt. Was it known, he asked himself, thathe had sailed from Cadiz and landed in Scotland? If so, and it was amost likely conjecture, then for Wogan to be straggling about St.James's Street was egregious impertinence, and the sooner he got undershelter the better for his neck. Now Wogan's destination was thelodging of George Kelly, not five hundred yards away, in Bury Street.But to reach that lodging it would be necessary for him to turn aboutagain and face the Captain. Would the Captain know him again? Wogandebated the question, and finding no answer, asked himself another.What would Thomas Wogan have done under the like contingency? Theanswer to that was evident enough. Wogan turned about on the instant,cocked his hat on the back of his head, took his chin out of hiscravat, twirled his cane, whistled a tune and sauntered past theCaptain, looking him over as if he were so much dirt. The Captainstopped: Wogan felt his heart jump into his throat, whistled a bitlouder, and twirled his cane a trifle ferociously. Over his shoulderhe saw the Captain draw his brows together and rub a check with thepalm of his hand like a man perplexed. The Captain took a step towardsWogan, and stopped again. Wogan sauntered on, expecting every momentto hear his name called, and a clattering run, and then to feel aheavy hand close upon his shoulder. But no voice spoke, no stepsclattered on the pavement. Wogan reached the corner and spied up St.James's Street as he turned. The Captain was still standing in theattitude of perplexity; only, instead of smoothing his cheek, he hadtilted his peruke aside and was scratching his head to ease the labourof his recollections. At the sight of him the ancestor and histwenty-eight Cavaliers rode clean out of Mr. Wogan's mind. 'Sure,Thomas wouldn't have done it, but Nicholas will,' said he, and kickingup his heels he ran. He ran along Ryder Street, turned into BuryStreet, raced a hundred yards or so up the cobbles, and thundered onthe door of Kelly's lodging. Here and there a head was poked from awindow, and Mr. Wogan cursed his own noisiness. It seemed an agebefore the door was opened. Fortunately it was Mrs. Barnes, Kelly'slandlady, in person, and not her serving-woman, who stood in theentrance.
'Is the Parson in London?' says Wogan. 'Say that he is, Mrs. Barnes,and say it quick.'
'Why, it's Mr. Wogan!' cries she.
'Whisht, my dear woman!' answered Wogan, pushing through the doorway.'It's Mr. Hilton. There's no Wogan anywhere in England. Remember that,if you please.'
Mrs. Barnes slammed the door in a hurry.
'Then you are in trouble again,' said she, throwing up her hands.
'Well, there's nothing unusual in that,' said he. 'Sure man is born toit, and who am I that I should escape the inheritance?' and he openedthe door of Mr. Kelly's sitting-room. He saw the figure of a manbending over the table. As the door was thrown open, the figurestraightened itself hurriedly. There was a sound of an iron lidclanging down upon a box, and the sharp snap of a lock. George Kellyturned and stood between the table and the door, in a posture ofdefence. Then--
'Nick!' he cried, and grasped his friend's hand. The next moment helet it go. 'What brings you here?' he exclaimed.
'My ancestor,' said Wogan, dropping into a chair. ''Twas his spiritguided me.'
'Then take my word for it,' cried George, 'if there's a Bedlam beyondthe grave your ancestor inhabits it.'
Wogan made no reply in words at first. But he rose stiffly from hischair, bowed to Kelly with profuse ceremony, took his hat, and withhis hat a step towards the door. Kelly, on the other hand, shut thedoor, locked it, put the key in his pocket and leaned his back againstthe panels. Wogan affected to see nothing of these actions, but spokein a tone of dignity like a man taking his leave.
'Such insults as you are pleased to confer on me,' said he, 'no doubtI deserve, and I take them in all Christian meekness. But when myancestor Thomas Wogan, God rest his soul for ever and ever, rode withtwenty-eight Cavaliers from Dover to Scotland through the thick of hisbloodthirsty foes to carry the succour
of his presence to the friendsof his blessed Majesty of sacred memory King Charles the Second, itwas not, I'd have you know, Mr. Kelly, in order that his name shouldbe bespattered after he was dead by a snuffling long-leggedsurreptitious gawk of a parson who was kicked out of his Dublin pulpitwith every circumstance of ignominy because his intellect didn'tenable him to compose a homily.'
At this point Wogan drew a long breath, which he sorely needed. It wasnot at all truth that he had spoken, as he knew--none better. TheParson was indeed stripped of his gown because he preached a very finehomily on the text of 'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's,'wherein he mingled many timely and ingenious allusions to theChevalier. Nor was there any particular force in that epithet'surreptitious,' beyond that it had an abusive twang. Yet it was justthat word at which Mr. Kelly took offence.
'Surreptitious,' said he, 'and if you please what is the meaning ofthat?'
And then surveying Wogan, he began of a sudden to smile.
'Ta-ta-ta,' he said with a grimace.
'It is a pretty though an interjectional wit,' replied Wogan in a highdisdain, falling upon long words, as was his fashion on the rareoccasions when he cloaked himself with dignity.
'Faith,' continued George, with the smile broadening over his face,'but it is indeed the very picture of Christian meekness,' and then,breaking into a laugh, 'Will you sit down, you noisy firebrand. As forThomas Wogan--be damned to him and to all his twenty-eight Cavaliersinto the bargain!'
Mr. Wogan will never deny but what the man's laugh was irresistible,for the Parson's features wore in repose something of clerkly look.They were cast in a mould of Episcopal gravity; but when he laughedhis blue eyes would lighten at you like the sun from a bank of clouds,and the whole face of him wrinkled and creased into smiles, and hismouth shook a great rumbling laugh out of his throat, and then of asudden you had come into the company of a jolly man. Wogan put his haton the table and struggled to preserve his countenance from anyexpression of friendliness.
'It is the common talk at the Cocoa Tree that you sailed from Cadiz.It is thought that you were one of the remnant at Glenshiel. Oh, therumour of your whereabouts has marched before you, and that you mighthave guessed. But see what it is to know no Virgil, and,' shaking aminatory finger,
'Fama, malum quo non aliud velocius ullum.'
Mr. Wogan bowed before Latin like a sapling before the wind. He seatedhimself as he was bid.
'And you must needs come parading your monstrous person through thethick of London, like any fashionable gentleman,' continued George.'What am I to do with you? Why couldn't you lie quiet in a village andsend me news of you? Did you meet any of your acquaintance by chancewhen you came visiting your friend Mr. Kelly? Perhaps you passed thetime of day with Mr. Walpole--' and as he spoke the name he stoppedabruptly. He walked once or twice across the room, shifting his perukefrom one side of his head to the other in the fluster of his thoughts.Then he paused before Wogan.
'Oh, what am I to do with you?' he cried. 'Tell me that, if youplease.' But the moment Wogan began,
'Sure, George, it's not you that I will be troubling for mysecurity'--Kelly cut in again:
'Oh, if you have nothing better to say than that, you say nothing atall. It is dribbling baby's talk,' and then he repeated a questionearnestly. 'Did you see anyone you knew, or rather did anyone thatknows you see you?'
'Why,' replied Wogan meekly, 'I cannot quite tell whether he knows meor not, but to be sure I ran into the arms of Captain Montague nothalf a dozen yards from the corner of Ryder Street.'
'Montague!' exclaimed Kelly. Wogan nodded.
'The man who fought against you at Preston siege?'
'The same.'
''Tis a pity you were at so much pains to save his life in thatscuffle.'
'Haven't I been thinking that myself?' asked Wogan. 'If only I hadleft him lying outside the barricades, where he would have been surelykilled by the cross-fire, instead of running out and dragging him in!But it is ever the way. Once do a thoroughly good-natured action andyou will find it's the thorn in your side that will turn and stingyou. But I am not sure that he knew me,' and he related how theCaptain had stopped with an air of perplexed recollection, and hadthen gone on his way. Kelly listened to the account with a certainrelief.
'It is likely that he would not remember you. For one thing, he waswounded when you carried him in, and perhaps gave little heed to thefeatures of his preserver. Moreover, you have changed, Nick, in theseyears. You were a stripling then, a boy of fifteen, and,' here hesmiled and laid a hand on Wogan's shoulder, 'you have grown into ababy in four years.'
Then he took another turn across the room. 'Well, and why not?' hesaid to himself, and finally brought his fist with a bang upon thetable. 'I'll hazard it,' said he. 'I am not sure but what it is thesafest way,' and, drawing a chair close to Wogan, he sat himself down.
'It was the mention of Mr. Walpole set me on the plan,' he said. 'Youheard in Paris that Lady Oxford is a kinsman of his. Well, I go downto Lord Oxford's in two days. It is a remote village in the north ofHerefordshire. You shall come with me as my secretary. 'Faith, but Ishall figure in my lord's eyes as a person of the greatestimportance.'
Mr. Wogan resisted the proposal as being of some risk to his friend,but Kelly would hear of no argument. The plan grew on him, the more hethought of it. 'You can lie snug here for the two days. Mrs. Barnes isto be trusted, devil a doubt. You can travel down with me in safety. Iam plain Mr. Johnson here, engaged in smuggling laces from theContinent into England. And once out of London there will be littledifficulty in shipping you out of the country until the affair's blownover.'
So it was arranged, and Kelly, looking at his watch, says--
'By my soul, I am late. I should have been with my Lord of Rochesterhalf-an-hour since. The good Bishop will be swearing like a dragoon.'
He clapped his hat on his head, took up his cane, and marched to thedoor. His hand was on the knob, when he turned.
'By the way, Nick, I have something which belongs to you. 'Twas sentto my lodging in Paris by mistake. I brought it over, since I was sureto set eyes on you shortly.'
'Ah,' said Nick. 'Then you expected me, for all your scolding andbullying.'
'To speak the honest truth, Nick,' said Kelly, with a laugh, 'I havebeen expecting you all the last week.'
He went into his bedroom, and brought out the strong-box which Woganhad purchased in Paris.
'Sure there was no mistake,' said Wogan. 'I sent it to you as a rewardfor your discretion.'
'Oh, you did. Well, you wasted your money, for I have no need for it.'
'Nor I,' replied Wogan. 'But it has a very good lock, and will serveto hold your love-letters.'
Kelly laughed carelessly at the careless words, and laid the box asideupon his scrutore. Many a time in the months that followed Wogan sawit there, and the sight of it would waken him to a laugh, for he didnot know that a man's liberty, his honour, his love, came shortly tobe locked within its narrow space.
