Shrewsbury: A Romance

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XX

  The clocks had gone midnight, when I parted from Mary at the door ofthe house and groped my way upstairs to my room; where, throwing offmy clothes I lay down, not to sleep, but to resolve endlessly andfutilely the plans we had made, and the risks we ran and the thousandissues that might come of either. Cogitation brought me no nearer to aknowledge of the event, but only heated my brain and increased myimpatience; the latter to such a degree that with the first light Iwas up and moving, and had my trunk packed. Nor did I fail to note thestrange and almost incredible turn which now led me to look forsupport in my flight to the very person whose ominous entrancetwenty-four hours earlier had forced me to lay aside the thought.

  Long before it could by any chance be necessary I opened my door, andsoftly carrying out my box, placed it in a dark corner on the landing.After this a great interval elapsed, during which I conjured up ahundred mischances. At length I heard someone afoot opposite; and thenthe stumbling tread of a porter carrying goods down the stairs. Abouteleven I ventured to peep out, and learned with satisfaction that thetrunk had vanished; it remained therefore for me to do the same.Bestowing a last look on the little attic which had been my home solong, and until lately no unhappy home, I took up my hat and cloak;and making sure for the fiftieth time that I had my small stock ofmoney, hidden in my clothes, I opened the door, and stealing out,stood a minute to listen before I descended.

  I heard nothing to alarm me; yet a second later I shrieked inaffright, and almost sank down under the sudden grip of a hand on myshoulder. The hand was Ferguson's; who listening, at my chamber door,had heard me move towards it, and flattened himself against the wallbeside it; and so, being in the dark corner farthest from thestaircase, had eluded my notice. He chuckled vastly, at his cunning,and the fright he had given me, and rocking me to and fro, asked megrimly what I had done with my fine clothes and my wig.

  "Ay, and that is not all," he continued. "I shall want to know alittle more about that matter, my friend. And mind you, Mr. Price, thetruth! The truth, or I will wring this tender ear of yours from yourhead. For the present, however, that matter may wait. I shall have it,when I want it. Now I have other work for you. Come into my room."

  "I am going to the tavern," I said desperately. And I hung back."Afterwards, Mr. Ferguson, I will----"

  "Oh, to the tavern," he answered, mimicking me. "And for what?"

  "My dinner," I faltered.

  He burst into a volley of oaths, and seizing me again by the shoulderran me into his room. "Your dinner, indeed, you dirty, low-bornpedlar," he cried in a fury. "Who are you to dine at taverns when theKing's business wants you? Stand you there, and listen to me, or bythe God above me, you shall never take meat or drink again. Do you seethis, you craven?" and he plucked out his horrible horse pistol, andflourished the muzzle in my face. "Mark it, and remember that I amFerguson, the famous Ferguson, Ferguson the plotter, and no littleperson to be thwarted! And now listen to me."

  I could have wept with rage and despair, knowing that with everymoment this wretch kept me, my chance of fulfilling the appointment atClerkenwell Gate was passing; and that if he detained me only one halfhour longer, I must be late. To the pistol, however, and his scowling,truculent, blotched face that lacking the wig, which hung on a chairbeside him, was one degree more ugly than its wont, there was noanswer; and I said sullenly that I would listen.

  "You had better," he answered. "Mark you, there is a gentleman comingto see me; and to his coming and to what he says to me I will have awitness. You follow me?"

  "Yes," I said, looking round, but in vain, for a way of escape.

  "And you are the witness. You shall go into that room, mark you, andyou shall be as mute as a mouse! I put this little cupboard open, theback is thin and there is a crack in it; set your eye to that and youwill see him. And look you, listen to every word, and note it; andkeep still--keep still, or it will be the worse for you, Mr. Price!"

  "Very well," I said obediently; hope springing up, as I thought I sawa way of escape. "And what time must I be here?"

  "You are here, and you will stay here," he answered dashing to theground the scarce-born plan. "Why, man, he may come any minute."

  "Still--if I could go out for--for two minutes," I persisted. "Ishould be easier."

  "Go out! Go out!" he cried, interrupting me in a fury. "And dinners?And taverns? And you would be easier! D'ye know, Mr. Price, I have mydoubts about you! Ay, I have!" he continued, leering at me with hisbig, cunning eyes; and now thrusting his face close to mine, nowdrawing it back again. "Are you for selling us, I wonder? Mind you, ifthat is your thought, two can play at that game, and I have writing ofyours. Ay, I have writing of yours, Mr. Price, and for twopence Iwould send it where it will hang you. So be careful. Be carefulor--give me that coat."

  Wishing that I had the courage to strike him in the back, praying thatthe next word he said might choke him, hating him with a dumb hatred,the blacker for its impotence, and for the menial services he made medo him, I gave him the long-skirted plum-coloured coat to which hepointed, and saw him clothe his lank ungainly figure in it, and topall with his freshly curled wig. He bade me tie his points and fastenon his sword; and this being done to his liking--and he was not veryeasy to please--he pulled down his ruffles, and walked to and fro,preening himself and looking a hundred times more ugly and loathsomefor the finery, with which, for the first time, I saw him bedizened.

  Preparations so unusual, by awakening my curiosity as to the visitorin whose honour they were made, diverted me from my own troubles; towhich I had done no more than return when a knock came at the outerdoor. Ferguson, in a flush of exultation that went far to show that hehad entertained doubts of the visitor's coming, thrust me into thenext room; a mere closet, ill-lighted by one small window, and bare,save for a bed-frame. Here he placed me beside the crack he hadmentioned; and whispering in my ear the most fearful threats andobjurgations in case I moved, or proved false to him, he cast a lastlook round to assure himself that all was right; then he went backinto his own apartment, where through my Judas-hole I saw him pause.The girl's departure with the luggage had left the room but meagrelyfurnished; whether this and the effect it might have on his visitor'smind struck him, or he began at the last moment to doubt the prudenceof his enterprise, he stood awhile in the middle of the floor gnawinghis nails, and listening, or perhaps thinking. The drift of hisreflections, however, was soon made clear; for on the visitor'simpatiently repeating his summons, he moved stealthily to one of thewindows--which being set in the mode of garret windows, deep in theslope of the roof, gave little light--and by piling his cloak in aheap on the sill, he contrived to obscure some of that little. Thisdone, and crying softly "Coming! Coming!" he hastened to the door andopened it, bowing and scraping with an immense show of humility.

  The man, who had knocked, and who walked in with an impatient step asif the waiting had been little to his taste, was tall and slight; forthe rest, a cloak, and a hat flapping low over his face, hid bothfeatures and complexion. I noticed that Ferguson bowed again andhumbly, but did not address him; and that the gentleman also keptsilence until he had seen the door secured behind him. Then, and ashis host with seeming clumsiness, brushed past him and so secured aposition with his back to the light, he asked sharply, "Where is he?"

  The plotter leant his hands on the back of the chair and paused aninstant before he answered. When he did he spoke with less assurancethan I had ever heard him speak before; he even stammered a little."Your Grace," he said, "has come to see a person--who--who wrote toyou? From this house?"

  "I have. Where is he?"

  "Here."

  "Here? But where, man, where?" the newcomer replied, looking quicklyround.

  Still Ferguson did not move. "My lord Duke, you came here, in aword--to see Lord Middleton?" he said.

  It was easy to see that the visitor's gorge rose at the other'smanner, no less than at this naming of names. But with an effort heswallowed his
chagrin. "If you know that, you know all," he answeredwith composure. "So without more, take me to him. But I may as wellsay, sir, since you seem to be in his confidence----"

  "It was my hand wrote the letter."

  "Was it so? Then you should know, sir, that a madder and more foolishthing was never done! If my Lord Middleton," the stranger continuedcoldly, his tone inclining to sarcasm rather than to feeling, "desiredto ruin his best friend and the one most able to save him in a certainevent--if he meant to requite, sir, one who has already suffered morethan was reasonable in his service, by consigning him to hisdestruction, he did well. Otherwise he was mad. Mad, or worse, to sendsuch a letter to a place where he must know of his own knowledge thatnine letters out of ten are opened by others' hands!"

  "Your Grace is right," Ferguson answered drily, and in his naturalvoice; at the sound of which, either because of its native harshnessor because it touched some chord in his memory, the other started."But the fact is," the plotter continued hardily, and with a smack ofimpertinence, "my Lord Middleton, so far as I know, is still with theKing at St. Germain's."

  "At St. Germain's?" the stranger cried. "With the King?"

  "Yes, and to be candid," Ferguson answered, "I was not aware, my lord,that you had sent him a safe conduct."

  "You villain!" the Duke cried, and stepped forward, his rage excitedas much by the man's manner as by the trick which had been played him."How dared you say, then, that he was here?" he continued. "Answer,fellow, or it will be the worse for you."

  "I said only, your Grace," Ferguson replied, retreating a step, "thatthe writer of the letter was here."

  For a moment the Duke, utterly dumfounded by this, stood looking athim. "And you are he?" he said at last, with chilling scorn, "and theauthor of this--plot!"

  "And of many plots besides," my master answered jauntily. And then,"My lord, do you not know me yet?" he cried.

  "Not I! Stand out, sir, and let me see your face. Then perhaps, if wehave met before----"

  "Oh, we have met before!" was the quick and impudent answer. "I am notashamed of my face. It has been known in its time. But fair play is ajewel, my lord. It is eight years since I saw your Grace last, and Ihave a fancy to learn if you are changed. Will you oblige me? If youwould see my face, show me yours!"

  With a gesture between contempt and impatience the Duke removed thehat, which at his entrance he had merely touched; and hastily loweringthe cloak from his neck, confronted his opponent.