The Highwayman

by H. C. Bailey

  CHAPTER XXVI

  REVELATIONS

  Harry was kept a long time in a guard room. Once or twice an officer camein and looked him over, but he was asked no questions, and he asked none.He was ill at ease. Not, I believe, from any fear for himself. He knew,indeed, that he might hang for his pains. What he had done for thePretender was surely treason, or would be adjudged treason, with theWhigs in power and the Hanoverian King. But death seemed no great matter.He was not a romantic hero, he had no faith, no cause to die for, and hesaw the last scene as a mere horror of pain and shame. Only it must besome relief to come to the end. For he was beset by a hopeless, recklessdistrust of himself. Everything that he did must needs go awry. He wasborn for failure and ignominy. Memories of his wild delight in Alisoncame stabbing at his heart, and he fought against them, and again theyopened the wounds. Yes, for a little while he had been given the fullzest of life, all the wonder and the glory--that he might know what itwas to live maimed and starving. It was his own fault, faith. He shouldnever have dared venture for her, he, a dull, blundering, graceless fool.How should he content her? Oh, forget her, forget all that and have done.She would be free of him soon, and so best. Best for himself, too; it wasa dreary affair, this struggling from failure to failure. Whatever he puthis hand to must needs go awry. Save the Pretender from the chance of afight and deliver him into the hands of Marlborough! Marlborough, whowould send him to the scaffold with the noblest air in the world! Why,but for that silly meddling at Kensington, the lad might have won free.Now he and his cause must die together before a jeering mob. So much forthe endeavours of Mr. Harry Boyce to be a man of honour! Mr. Harry Boyceshould have stayed in his garret with his small beer and his rind ofcheese. He was fit for nothing better, born to be a servitor, an usher.And he must needs claim Alison Lambourne for his desires and rifle herbeauty! Oh, it was good to make an end of life if only he could forgether, forget her as she lay in his arms.

  The door opened. The guard was beckoning to him. He was marched to aroom in which one man sat at a table, a small man of a lean, sharpface. Unbidden, Harry flung himself into a chair. He must have been aridiculous figure, overwhelmed by the black wig and the rich clothestoo big for him. The sharp face opposite stared at him incontemptuous disgust.

  "Your name?"

  "La, you now!" Harry laughed. "I don't know you neither. And, egad, I cando without."

  "I am the Earl of Sunderland."

  "Then, damme, I am sorry for you."

  "Your name, I say?"

  "Why, didn't your fellows tell you? They told me."

  "Impudence will not serve you. I warn you, the one chance to saveyourself is to be honest with me."

  Harry began to hum a song, and, between the bars, he said, "You may go tothe devil. I care not a curse for anything you can do. So think of yourdignity, my lord. And hold your silly tongue."

  Sunderland considered him keenly. A secretary came in and whispered. "Iwill see him," Sunderland said, and lay back in his chair.

  It was Colonel Boyce who broke in, Colonel Boyce something flushed andout of breath. "Egad, my lord," he began. Sunderland held up his hand.Colonel Boyce checked and stood staring at his son.

  Harry began to laugh. "Oh, sir, you're infinitely welcome. It only neededyou to complete my happiness."

  "Od's life, sirrah." Colonel Boyce advanced upon him. "Are you crazy?What damned folly is this?"

  "You know him then?" says Sunderland.

  "Oh, my lord, it's a wise father knows his own son. And he is notwise, you know. Are you, most reverend? No, faith, or you would neverhave begot me. No, faith, nor enlist me to do murder neither. For I dobut bungle it, you see. And make a fool of my Lord Sunderland, Godbless him."

  "Is he mad?" says Sunderland.

  "I profess I begin to think so." Colonel Boyce frowned. "Lud, Harry,stop your ranting. What brought you here?"

  "You, sir, you. Your faithful striving to do my Lord Sunderland's murdersfor him. _Imprimis_, that work of grace. But, finally, some good soldierswho assured me I was the man my lord wanted to murder."

  "You came here with the Pretender?"

  Harry laughed and began to sing a catch:

  "'Tis nothing to you if I should do so, And if nothing in it you find,Then thank me for nothing and that will be moe Than ever I designed."

  "What a pox are you doing in his clothes, sirrah?" Colonel Boyce cried.

  "Faith, I try to keep them on me. Which is more difficult than yousuppose. If I were to stand up in a hurry, my lord, we should allbe shamed."

  "The lad is an idiot," said Sunderland, with a shrug.

  "Come, Harry, you have fooled it long enough. I had a guess of this madfancy of yours. But the game is up now, lad. King George is king to-day,and his friends have all power in their grip. There's no more hope foryour Jacobites. Tell me now--the Pretender is in your clothes, Isee--where did you part from him?"

  "Why, don't you know?" Harry stared at him. "Oh, faith, that's bitterfor you. You who always know everything! And your friends 'with allpower in their grip,' Oh, my dear lord, I wonder if there's those whodon't trust you?"

  Some voices made themselves heard from outside. Sunderland and ColonelBoyce looked at each other, and my lord bit his fingers. The Colonelmuttered something in Sunderland's ear.

  Harry laughed. "Do you bite your thumb at me, my lord? No, sir, says he,but I bite my thumb. Odso, I bite my thumb."

  "Be silent, sirrah," Sunderland cried.

  The door opened. "Announce me," says a placid voice, and the secretarycried out in a hurry: "His Grace the Duke of Marlborough."

  Harry went on laughing. The contrast of Marlborough's assured calm andthe agitation of the others was too impressive. "Oh, three merry men,three merry men, three merry men are ye," he chanted. "No, damme, it'smore Shakespeare. The three witches, egad. And I suppose Duncan ismurdered in the next act. When shall you three meet again? In--"

  "Oh, damn your tongue, Harry," his father exploded.

  Marlborough was not disturbed. His eye had picked out Sunderland. "Isthis the whole conspiracy, my lord?" said he.

  "I beg your Grace's pardon," Sunderland started up. "You see, I am notprivate," and he called out: "Guard, guard."

  "No," Marlborough said, and, as the soldiers came in, dismissed them with"You are not needed."

  Sunderland fell back in his chair. "Oh, if you please," he criedpeevishly. "At your Grace's command."

  "You have no secrets from Mr. Boyce, my lord." He turned to Harry. "Sir,we have met before," and he bowed.

  "Yes. The first time your wife was stuck in the mud. Now it's you."

  "Sir, you have obliged me on both occasions," Marlborough said. "Well, mylord? You had Mr. Boyce under examination. Pray go on."

  "I don't understand your Grace," Sunderland said sulkily. "I have donewith the gentleman."

  Colonel Boyce thrust forward. "By your Grace's leave, I'll take the ladaway. Time presses and--"

  "You may be silent," said Marlborough. For the first time in theiracquaintance Harry saw his father look at a loss. It was an ugly,ignominious spectacle. Marlborough turned to Harry, smiling, and hisvoice lost its chill: "Well, Mr. Boyce, how far had it gone? Were theyasking you what you had done with Prince James?"

  Harry stared at the bland, handsome condescension and hated it. "Oh,you have always had the devil's own luck," he cried. "Devil give youjoy of it, now."

  "You mistake me, I believe. I can forgive you more easily than someothers." He turned upon Sunderland. "I will tell you where Prince Jamesis, my lord. Safe out of your reach. On his way to France."

  Sunderland made a petulant exclamation and spread out his hands. "YourGrace goes beyond me, I profess. Do you choose to be frank with me?"

  "Frank?" Marlborough laughed. "You know the word, then? By all means letus be frank. I found Prince James in the palace. He accepted my company.We had some conversation, my lord. I present to you the results. You haveused my name to warrant a silly, knavish plot for murdering Princ
e Jamesin France. You entered upon a silly, knavish plot to murder him on thismad visit to London, and while engaging me to aid your motions againstthe Jacobites you gave me no advice of this damning folly. To completeyour blunders--but for the chance that I came upon him and took himthrough your guards you would have been silly enough to plant him on ourhands in prison. I do not talk to you about honour, my lord, or yourobligations. I advise you, I resent my name being confused with theseimbecilities."

  Sunderland, who had been wriggling and become flushed, cried out: "I'llnot submit to this. I don't choose to answer your Grace. You shall hearfrom me when you are cooler."

  "My compliments," Marlborough laughed. "I do not stand by my friends? Ilose my temper? You will easily convince the world of that, my lord.Colonel Boyce!" Before Harry's wondering eyes his father came toattention and, with an expression much like a guilty dog's, waited hisreward. "You have had some of my confidence and I think you have not lostby it. You have repaid me with an impudent treachery. I shall arrangethat you have no more opportunity at home or abroad."

  "Pray leave to ask your Grace's pardon," Colonel Boyce muttered. "Iswear--"

  "You may be silent," Marlborough said, and turned away from them. "Pray,Mr. Boyce, will you walk?" Something bewildered by this time, Harry stoodup and they went out together. "I require a carriage for this gentleman,"said Marlborough to the sergeant of the guard, and with a smile to Harry,"That will be convenient, I think?"

  "Egad, sir, you might say, decent," says Harry with a wary hand onhis breeches.

  "Spare me a moment while you wait," Marlborough turned into a recess ofthe corridor. "Prince James expressed himself much in your debt, Mr.Boyce. Consider me not less obliged. Thanks to you, I have freed myselfof suspicions which I profess it had irked me to bear."

  "Your Grace owes me nothing. I never thought of you. Or if I did you werethe villain of the piece."

  Marlborough laughed. "And now you are sorry to find I am not sodistinguished. Why is it a pleasure to despise me, Mr. Boyce?"

  Harry had to laugh too. "It's a hit, sir. I suppose your Grace is sogreat a man that we all envy you and are eager for a chance to defame youand bring you down to our own level."

  "You're above that, Mr. Boyce," Marlborough said. "I make you mycompliments on your conduct in the affair. And pray remember that I am inyour debt. I don't know your situation. If I can serve you, do me thepleasure of commanding me."

  "Oh, your Grace does everything magnificently," says Harry, with a wrysmile, and liked him none the better.