CHAPTER XVII
REBECCA'S TRUMP CARD
When Rebecca set out for the Panchronicon from London Bridge, she knewthat she had a long walk in prospect, and settled down to the work withdogged resolution. Her trip was quite uneventful until she neared thevillage of Newington, and then she realized for the first time that shedid not know exactly where to find the deserted grove. One grove lookedmuch like another, and how was she to choose between garden walls "aslike as two peas," as she expressed it?
"Look here, Rebecca Wise," she said, aloud, as she paused in the middleof the road, "you'll be lost next you know!"
She looked about dubiously and shook her head.
"The thing fer you to do is to set right down an' wait fer that peskygood-fer-nothin' Copernicus Droop!" she remarked, and suiting action tospeech she picked her way to a convenient mile-stone and seated herself.
Having nothing better to do, she began to review mentally the events ofthe last two days, and as she recalled one after the other theunprecedented adventures which had overtaken her, she wondered in adreamy way what would next befall. She built hazy hypotheses, sittingthere alone in the moonlight, nodding contentedly. Suddenly shestraightened up, realizing that she had been aroused from a doze by acry near at hand.
Turning toward London, she saw a wriggling mass about fifty feet awaywhich, by a process of slow disentanglement, gradually developed into aman's form rising from the ground and raising a fallen bicycle.
"Darn the luck!" said this dark figure. "Busted my tire, sure asshootin'!"
"Copernicus Droop!" cried Rebecca, in a loud voice.
Droop jumped high in the air, so great was his nervousness. Then,realizing that it was Rebecca who had addressed him, he limped towardher, rolling his bicycle beside him.
"How in creation did you get here?" he asked. "Ain't any steam-cars'round here, is there?"
"Guess not!" Rebecca replied. "I come by short cut up river. I guessedyou'd make fer the Panchronicle, and I jest made up my mind to come,too. Thinks I, 'that Copernicus Droop ud be jest mean enough to fly awayall by himself an' leave me an' Phoebe to shift fer ourselves.' So I'mhere to go, too--an' what's more, we've got to take Phoebe!"
"How'll ye find yer sister, Cousin Rebecca?" said Droop. "We must gitout to-night. When the Queen gets on her ear like that, it's now ornever. Can you find Cousin Phoebe to-night?"
"Where is the old machine, anyhow?" Rebecca asked, not heeding Droop'squestion.
"Right over yonder," said he, pointing to a dark group of trees a fewrods distant.
"Well, come on, then. Let's go to it right away," said Rebecca. "I'dlike to rest a bit. I'm tired!"
"Tired!" Droop exclaimed. "What about me, then?"
Without further parley, the two set off toward the grove which Droop hadindicated. Having dwelt here for several weeks, he knew his bearingswell, but it was not until they came much nearer to the deserted mansionthat Rebecca recognized several landmarks which convinced her that hehad made no mistake.
Under the trees, the shadows were so black that they were unable to findthe breach in the wall.
"Got any matches, Cousin Rebecca?" Droop asked.
"Yes. Wait a minute an' I'll strike a light. I know that blessed hole issomewhere right near here."
She found again her card of matches, and breaking off one of them, soonhad a tiny taper which lit up their surroundings wonderfully.
"There 'tis! I've found it," cried Droop, and, taking Rebecca by thearm, he led her toward the broken place in the wall. The match went outjust as they reached it.
Droop was about to suggest that he go in first to see if all was well,when he was startled by Rebecca's hand on his arm.
"Hark!" she cried.
He listened and distant cries coming nearer through the night were borneto his ears.
"What's that?" Rebecca exclaimed again.
Rigid with excitement and dread, they stood there listening. At lengthDroop pulled himself free of Rebecca's hold.
"That's some o' them palace folks chasin' after me!" he cried, in apanic.
"Fiddle-dee-dee!" Rebecca exclaimed, with energy. "How should they knowwhere you are?"
By this time the sounds were more distinct, and they could easily makeout cries of: "Traitor! Stop him! For the Queen! Stop him!"
The two listeners had just mentally concluded that this alarm did not inany wise concern them when Rebecca was startled beyond measure to hearher sister Phoebe's voice, loud above all other sounds.
"Nay--nay, Guy!" she was screaming. "Stop not to fight! Fly--follow!Shelter is here at hand!"
Forgetting everything but possible danger for Phoebe, Rebecca dashedout from under the trees.
There in the moonlight she saw Phoebe on horseback, her headuncovered, her hair floating free and her clothing in tatters. A fewpaces behind her was Sir Guy, also mounted, fiercely attacking twopursuing horsemen with his sword. Farther back, rendered indistinct bydistance, was a larger group of mingled horse and foot travellers.There was a lantern among them, and Rebecca inferred that the watch waswith them.
A moment later, one of the two men engaged with Sir Guy fell from hishorse. Instantly the young knight turned upon the second pursuer, whofled at once toward the larger group now rapidly approaching.
Rebecca ran forward and waved her card of matches frantically,apparently thinking in her excitement that she held a flag.
"Here, Phoebe--here, child!" she screamed. "This way, quick! Here weare awaitin' fer ye. Come, quick--quick!"
With a loud cry of joy, Phoebe slipped from her horse and ran towardher sister.
"Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca!" she cried, throwing herself into her sister'sarms. "Oh, you dear, lovely, sweet old darling!"
Rebecca kissed her younger sister with tears in her eyes, almost asaffected as the girl herself, who was now laughing and cryinghysterically on her breast.
While they stood thus tightly locked in each other's arms, Guy came totheir side with sword in hand.
"Quick!" he said, sharply. "You must away to shelter. Here comes thewatch apace. I will protect the rear."
The two women started apart and Phoebe set forward obediently, butRebecca only gave the fast-approaching crowd a look of proud contempt.
"Fiddle-ends!" she exclaimed. "You go on ahead, Guy. I'll fix them queerfolks!"
Whether Rebecca's voice convinced him of her power to make good herwords or that he felt his first duty was at Phoebe's side, the fact isthat the young knight strode forward with his sweetheart toward thebreach in the wall, leaving Rebecca behind to bear the first attack.
Droop had already passed within the enclosure and was groping his waytoward the black mass of the Panchronicon.
Phoebe, led by an accurate memory of her surroundings, had but littledifficulty in finding the opening, and, by her voice, Sir Guy andRebecca were guided to it.
Phoebe passed through first and Sir Guy followed just as the advanceguard of the pursuing mob rushed under the trees, swinging their twolanterns and shouting aloud:
"Here--this way! We have 'em fast!"
Rebecca coolly stooped and drew the edge of her entire card of matchesacross a stone at her feet. Then, standing erect, she thrust thesulphurous blue blaze into the faces of two rough-looking fellows justadvancing to seize her.
Sir Guy, who stood within the wall, found cause for deep amazement inthe yell of startled fear with which Rebecca's act was met; and deeperyet grew his astonishment when that cry was re-echoed by the wholeterror-stricken mob, who turned as one man to flee from this flaming,sulphurous sorceress.
Rebecca quietly waited until the sulphur had burned off and the woodblazed bright and clear. Then she pushed through the broken wall andshowed the way to their destination by the light of the small torch.
Sir Guy's feelings may be imagined when he suddenly found that they wereall four standing before a strangely formed structure in the side ofwhich Copernicus had just opened a door.
"Why, Mary!" he exclaimed, pausing in
his walk. "What have we here?"
She took his hand with a smile and drew him gently forward.
"Trust thy Mary yet further, Guy," she said. "Thy watchword must be,'Trust and question not.'"
He smiled in reply and, sheathing his sword, stepped boldly forward intothe interior of the Panchronicon. Phoebe knew the power ofsuperstition in that age, and she glowed with pride and tenderness,conscious that in this act of faith in her the knight evinced morecourage than ever he might need to bear him well in battle.
When the electric lights shed a sudden bright glare down the spiralstaircase, Sir Guy cowered and stopped short again, turning pale with afear irrepressible. But Phoebe put one arm about his neck and drew hishead down to hers, whispering in his ear. What she said none heard savehim, but the spell of her words was potent, for the young knight stooderect once more and firmly ascended to the room above.
Droop stood nervously waiting at the engine-room door.
"Are ye all in?" he said, sharply. "Where's Cousin Rebecca?"
"Here I be!" came a voice from below. "I'm jest lockin' the door tight."
"Well, hurry up--hurry! Come up here an' lay down. I'm goin' to start."
In a few moments all was in readiness. Droop pulled the lever, and witha roar and a mighty bound the Panchronicon, revived by its long periodof waiting, sped upward into the night.
As the four fugitives sat upright again, and Droop, rubbing his handswith satisfaction, was about to speak, the door of one of thebedchambers was opened, and a stranger dressed in nineteenth-centuryattire stepped forward, shading his blinking eyes with his hand.
The two women screamed, but Droop only dropped amazed into a chair.
"Francis Bacon!" he exclaimed.
Then, leaping forward eagerly, he cried aloud:
"Gimme them clothes!"
* * * * *
Of the return trip of the five, little need be said save to record oneuntoward incident which has been the occasion of a most unfortunatehistoric controversy.
The date-recording instrument must have been deranged in some way, forwhen, after a great number of eastward turns around the pole, it markedthe year 1898, they had really only reached 1857. Supposing themselvesto have actually reached the year erroneously indicated by the recorder,they set off southward and made a first landing in Hartford,Connecticut.
Here they discovered their mistake, and returned to the pole to completetheir journey in time. All but Francis Bacon. He declared that so muchwhirling made him giddy, and remained in Connecticut. Alas! Had Phoebeknown the result of this desertion, she would never have consented toit.
Bacon, who had read much of Shakespeare while in the Panchronicon, foundon returning thus accidentally to modern America, that this playwrightwas esteemed the first and greatest of poets and dramatists by themodern world. Then and there he planned a conspiracy to rob the greatestcharacter in literary history of his just fame; and, under the pseudonymof "Delia Bacon," advanced those theories of his own concealedauthorship which have ever since deluded the uncritical and disgustedall lovers of common-sense and of justice.
Copernicus Droop, on returning his three remaining passengers to theirproper dates and addresses, discovered that his sole remainingphonograph, with certain valuable records of Elizabethan origin, haddisappeared. As he owed a grudge to Francis Bacon, that worthy fell atonce under suspicion, and accordingly Droop promptly returned to 1857,sought out the deserter, and charged him with having stolen theseinstruments.
It was not until the accused man had indignantly denied all knowledge ofDroop's property that the crestfallen Yankee recollected that he hadleft the apparatus in question in the deserted mansion of Newington,where he had stored it for greater safety after Bacon's first unexpectedvisit.
Without hesitation, he determined to return to 1598 and reclaim his own.Bacon, who had learned from modern historical works of the brilliantfuture in store for himself in England, begged Droop to take him back;and as an atonement for his unjust accusation, Droop consented.
It is not generally known that, contrary to common report, Francis Baconwas _not_ arrested for debt in 1598; but that, during the time he wassupposed to have been in prison, he was actually engaged in building upin his own behalf the greatest hoax in history.
* * * * *
Let those who may be inclined to discredit this scrupulously authenticchronicle proceed forthwith to Peltonville, New Hampshire, and there askfor Mr. and Mrs. Guy Fenton. From them will be gained completecorroboration of this history, not only in the account which they willgive of their own past adventures, but in the unmistakable Elizabethanflavor distinguishable to this day in their speech and manner. Indeed,the single fact that both ale and beer are to be found behind theirwood-pile should be convincing evidence on this point.
As for Rebecca, fully convinced at last of the marvellous qualities ofthe Panchronicon, she never tires of taking her little nephew, IsaacBurton Wise Fenton, on her knee and telling him of her amazingadventures in the palace of "Miss Tudor."
The Panchronicon Page 17
