CHAPTER XV
It must be confessed that after that it was with a sore shrinking andforeboding of punishment I prepared to obey Mr. Ferguson's summons,and at the hour he had fixed knocked at his door. Hitherto he hadalways come to me; and even so and on my own ground I had sufferedenough at his hands. What I had to expect, therefore, when entirely inhis power I failed to guess, but on that account felt only the greaterapprehension; so that it was with relief I recognised, firstly, assoon as I crossed the threshold, a peculiar neatness and cleanlinessin the rooms, as if Ferguson at home were something different fromFerguson abroad; and secondly, that he was not alone, but entertaineda visitor.
Neither of these things, to be sure, altered his bearing towards me,or took from the brutality with which it was his humour to address me;but as his opening words announced that the visitor's business laywith me, they relieved me from my worst apprehension--namely, that Iwas to be called to account for the steps I had taken to escape; atthe same time that they amused me with the hope of better treatment,since no man could deal with me worse than he had.
"This is your man!" the plotter cried, lying back in his chair andpointing to me with the pipe he was smoking. "Never was such a braveconspirator! Name a rope and he will sweat! For my part, I wish youjoy of him. Here, you, sirrah," he continued, addressing me, "thisgentleman wishes to speak to you, and, mind you, you will do what hetells you, or----"
But at that the gentleman cut him short with a deprecating gesture."Softly, Mr. Ferguson, softly!" he said, and rose and bowed to me.Then I saw that he was the last comer of the three I had met in CoventGarden; and the one who had dismissed me. "You go too fast," he wenton, smiling, "and give our friend here a wrong impression of me. Mr.Taylor, I----"
But it was Ferguson's turn to take him up, which he did with aboisterous laugh. "Ho! Taylor! Taylor!" he cried in derision. "No moreTaylor than I am haberdasher! The man's name----"
"Is whatever he pleases," the stranger struck in, with another bow. "Ineither ask it nor seek to know it. Such things between gentlemen andin these times are neither here nor there. It is enough and perhapstoo much that I came to ask you to do me a favour and a service, Mr.Taylor, both of which are in your power."
He spoke with a politeness which went far to win me, and the fartherfor the contrast it afforded to Ferguson's violence. With hisappearance I was not so greatly taken; finding in it, though he wasdressed well enough, clearer signs of recklessness than of discretion,and plainer evidences of hard living than of charity or study. Butperhaps the prayer of such a man, when he stoops to pray, is the morepowerful. At any rate I was already half gained, when I answered;asking him timidly what I could do for him.
"Pay a call with me," said he lightly. "Neither more than that, norless."
I asked him on whom we were to call.
"On a lady," he answered, "who lives at the other end of the town."
"But can I be of any service?" I said, feebly struggling against theinevitable.
"You can," he answered. "Of great service."
"Devil a bit!" said Ferguson testily, and stared derision at me out ofa cloud of smoke. It occurred to me then that he was not quite sober,and further that he was no more in the secret of the service than Iwas. "Devil a bit!" said he again, and more offensively.
"You will let me judge of that," said the gentleman, and he turned tothe table. "Will you mind changing the clothes you wear for these?" hesaid to me with a pleasant air. On which I saw that he had on thetable by his hand a suit of fine silk velvet clothes, and surmountedby a grand dress peruque, with a laced steinkirk and ruffles to match."Pardon the impertinence," he continued, shrugging his shoulders as ifthe matter were a very slight one, while I stared in amazement at thisnew turn. "It is only that I think you will aid me the better inthese. And after all, what is a change of clothes?"
Naturally I looked at the things in wonder. I had never worn clothesof the kind. "Do you want me to put them on?" I said.
"Yes," he answered, smiling. "Will you do it on the faith that it willserve me, and trust to me to explain later?"
"If there is no danger in--in the business," I said reluctantly, "Isuppose I must." As a fact, whatever he asked me, with Ferguson besidehim, I should have to do, so great was my fear of that man.
"There is no danger," he replied. "I will answer for it. I shallaccompany you and return with you."
On that, and though I did not comprehend in the least degree what wasrequired of me, I consented, and took the clothes at the stranger'sbidding into the next room, where I put off mine and put these on; andpresently, seeing myself in a little square of glass that hung againstthe wall, scarcely knew myself in a grand suit of blue velvet slashedand laced with pearl-colour, a dress peruque and lace ruffles andcravat. Being unable to tie the cravat, I went back into the room withit in my hand; where I found not only the two I had left but the girlwho had summoned me that morning. The two men greeted the change in mewith oaths of surprise; the girl, who stood in the background, with anopen-eyed stare; but for a moment and until the stranger had tied thecravat for me, nothing was said that I understood. Then Mr. Fergusongetting up and walking round me with a candle, gazing at me from topto toe, the other asked him in a voice of some amusement if he knewnow who I was.
"A daw in jay's feathers!" said he, scornfully.
"And you do not know him?"
"Not I--except for the silly fool he is!"
"Then you do not know--well, someone you ought to know!" the strangeranswered dryly. "You are getting old, Mr. Ferguson."
My master cursed his impudence.
"I am afraid that you do not keep abreast of the rising generation,"the other continued, coolly eyeing the rage his words excited. "Andfor your Shaftesburys, and Monmouths, and Ludlows, and the old gang,they don't count for much now. You must look about you, Mr. Ferguson;you must look about you and open your eyes, and learn new tricks, orbefore you know it you will find yourself on the shelf."
It would be difficult to exaggerate the fury into which this threw mymaster; he raved, stamped, and swore, and finally, having recourse tohis old trick, tore off his wig, flung it on the ground, and stampedon it. "There!" he cried, with horrible imprecations, the morehorrible for the bald ugliness of the man, "and that is what I will doto you--by-and-by, Mr. Smith. On the shelf, am I? And need new tricks?Hark you, sir, I am not so much on the shelf that I cannot spoil yourgame, whatever it is. And G-- d-- me but I will!"
Mr. Smith, listening, cool and dark-faced, shrugged his shoulders; butfor all his seeming indifference, kept a wary eye on the plotter."Tut--tut, Mr. Ferguson, you are angry with me," he said. "And saythings you do not mean. Besides, you don't know----"
"Know?" the other shrieked.
"Just so, know what my game is."
"I know this!" Ferguson retorted, dropping his voice on a sudden to abaleful whisper, "Who is here, and where he lies, Mr. Smith. And----"
"So do Tom, Dick, and Harry," the other answered, shrugging hisshoulders contemptuously; and then to me, "Mr. Taylor," he continuedwith politeness, "I think we will be going. Light the door, my dear.That is it. I have a coach below, and--good-night, Mr. Ferguson,good-night to you. I'll tell Sir George I have seen you. And do youthink over my advice."
At that my master broke out afresh, cursing the other's impudence, andfrantically swearing to be even with him; but I lost what he said, ina sudden consternation that seized me, as I crossed the threshold; akind of shiver, which came over me at the prospect of the night, andthe dark coach ride, and the uncertainty of this new adventure. Thelights in the room, and Mr. Smith's politeness, had given me a couragewhich the dark staircase dissipated; and but for the hold which my newemployer, perhaps unconsciously, laid on my arm, I think I should havestood back and refused to go. Under his gentle compulsion, however, Iwent down and took my seat in the coach that awaited us; and mycompanion following me and closing the door, someone unseen raised thesteps, and in a moment we were jolting o
ut of Bride Lane, and turnedin the direction of the Strand.
More than this I could not distinguish with all my curiosity, and lookout as I might; for Mr. Smith muttering something I did not catch,drew the curtain over the window on my side, and, for the other,interposed himself so continually and skilfully between it and myeyes, that the coach turning two or three corners, in a few minutes Iwas quite ignorant where we were, or whether we still held a westwarddirection. A hundred notions of footpads, abductions, Mr. Thynne, andthe like passed through my mind while the coach rumbled on, andrumbled on, and rumbled on endlessly; nor was the fact that weappeared to avoid the business parts of the town, and chose unlightedways, calculated to steady my nerves. At length, and while I stilldebated whether I wished this suspense at an end, or feared more whatwas to follow, the coach stopped with a jerk, which almost threw meout of my seat.
"We are there," said my companion, who had been some time silent. "Imust trouble you to descend, Mr. Taylor. And have no fears. The matterin hand is very simple. Only be good enough to follow me closely, andquickly."
And without releasing my arm he hurried me out of the coach, andthrough a door in a wall. This admitted us only to a garden; and thatso dark, and so completely obscured by high walls and the branches oftrees, which showed faintly overhead, feathering against the sky, thatbut for the guidance of his hand, I must have stood, unable toproceed. Such an overture was far from abating my fears; nor had Iexpected this sudden plunge into a solitude, which seemed the morechilling, as we stood in London, and had a little while before passedfrom the hum of the Strand. I tried to consider where we could be, andthe possibilities of retreat; but my conductor left me little room forindecision. Still holding my arm, he led me down a walk, and to adoor, which opened as we approached. A flood of light poured out andfell on the pale green of the surrounding trees; the next moment Istood in a small, bare lobby or ante-room, and heard the door chainedbehind me.
My eyes dazzled by a lamp, I saw no more at first than that the personwho held it, and had admitted us, was a woman. But on her setting downthe lamp, and proceeding to look me up and down deliberately, thewhile Mr. Smith stood by, as if he had brought me for this and noother, I took uneasy note of her. She appeared to be verging on fortybut was still handsome after a coarse and full-blown fashion, withlips over-full and cheeks too red; her dark hair still kept itscolour, and the remains of a great vivacity still lurked in her gloomyeyes. Her dress, of an untidy richness worn and tarnished, andill-fastened at the neck, was no mean match for her face; and led meto think her--and therein I was right--the waiting-woman of some greatlady. Perhaps I should, if let alone, have come something nearer thetruth than this, and quite home; but Mr. Smith cut short myobservations by falling upon her in a tone of anger, "Hang it, madam,if you are not satisfied," he cried, "I can only tell you----"
"Who said I was not satisfied?" she answered, still surveying me withthe utmost coolness. "But----"
"But what?"
"I cannot help thinking---- What is your name, sir, if you please?"This to me.
"Taylor," I said.
"Taylor? Taylor?" She repeated the name as if uncertain. "I rememberno Taylor; and yet----"
"You remember? You remember? You know very well whom you remember!"Mr. Smith cried, impatiently. "It is the likeness you are thinking of!Why, it is as plain, woman, as the nose on his face. It is so plainthat if I had brought him in by the front door----"
"And kept his mouth shut!" She interposed.
"No one would have been the wiser."
"Well," she said, grudgingly, and eyeing me with her head aside, "itis near enough."
"It is the thing!" he cried, with an oath.
"As a Chelsea orange is a China orange!" she answered, contemptuously.
At that he looked at her in a sort of dark fury, precisely, so itseemed to me, as Ferguson had looked at him an hour before. "Byheaven, you vixen," he cried in the end, surprise and rage contendingin his tone, "I believe you love him still!"
Her back being towards me I did not see her face, but the venom in hertone when she answered, made my blood creep. "Well," she said, slowly,"and if I do? Much good may it do him!"
Ambiguous as were the words--but not the tone--the man shrugged hisshoulders. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, irritably.
"Madam's pleasure," she answered. And I could see that she loved tobaulk him. However, her pleasure was, this time, short-lived, for atthat moment a little bell tinkled in a distant room, and she took upthe lamp. "Come," she said. "And do you, sir," she continued, turningto me and speaking sharply, "hold up your head and look as if youcould cut your own food. You are going to see an old woman. Do youthink that she will eat you?"
I let the gibe pass, and wondering of whom and what it was shereminded me, whenever she spoke, I followed her up a short dark flightof stairs to a second ante-room, or closet, situate, as far as I couldjudge, over the other. It was hung with dull, faded tapestry andsmelled close, as if seldom used and more seldom aired. Setting downthe lamp on a little side-table whereon a crumpled domino, a couple ofmasks, and an empty perfume bottle already lay, she bade us in a lowvoice wait for her and be silent; and enforcing the last order byplacing her finger on her lip, she glided quietly out through a doorso skilfully masked by the tapestry as to seem one of the walls.
Left alone with Mr. Smith, who seated himself on the table, I hadleisure to take note of the closet. Remarking that the wall at one endwas partly hidden by a couple of curtains, between which a barebracket stood out from the wall, I concluded that the place had been asecret oratory and had witnessed many a clandestine mass. I might havecarried my observations farther; but they were cut short at this pointby the return of the woman, who nodding, in silence, held the dooropen for us to pass.
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