CHAPTER XVIII
THE JOURNEY TO DORCHESTER
There was an atmosphere of unrest about the inn at Witley this evening.An hour ago a coach had arrived, and the best rooms were in requisitionfor the travellers, a lady and her maid. It was whispered amongst theloungers in the common room that she was a great lady, in spite of thefact that she travelled in a hired coach, but this idea was perhaps dueto the fact that the maid was imperious, and demanded attention in amanner that carried weight. The servant of an ordinary person wouldhardly have been so dictatorial.
Even before the arrival of the coach the inn had been far more alivethan usual, for a company of troopers had galloped up to it late in theafternoon making inquiry concerning a fugitive. He might be alone, butprobably had a companion with him. Both men were minutely described, andit would seem that the capture of the companion would be likely to givethe greater satisfaction.
No one at the inn had either seen or heard anything of them, and thetroop had given up the pursuit. After refreshment, and a noisy halt ofhalf an hour, the men had returned by the way they had come, leaving twoof their company behind. These two were in the common room when thecoach arrived, and, like everyone else in the house, were mightilyinterested in the lady and her maid. When the bustle had subsided alittle they called for more ale and settled themselves comfortably in acorner.
"Well, for my part I'm not sorry the fellow got away," said one man,stretching out his legs easily. "We've enough prisoners to make examplesof already."
"One more or less makes no matter," was the answer, "but it's wonderfulhow many have managed to slip through our fingers by the help of thisfellow Crosby. I'd give something to lay him by the heels."
"Aye, that would mean gold enough in our pockets to jingle."
"And we shall get him presently," the other went on. "He is known tomany of us now that he does not always hide himself behind the brownmask."
"If there were no money in it, I wouldn't raise a hand against him,"said his companion, "for I've a sneaking fondness for the fellow. He'sgot courage and brains, and they've got the better of us up to now. Markme, we shan't take him easily when the opportunity does offer. He'llmake a corpse of one or two of us in the doing it."
"More guineas for those who are left," was the answer. "The other affairtrots nicely," and he winked slowly over the tilted edge of his tankard.
"Wait!" said the other. "The netting of such fish may be sport enough,but there are handsome fish which are the devil to handle, and the tasteof them is poison. Hist!"
His companion turned quickly at the warning, and through the open doorsaw the maid, who attended the great lady, in the passage without. Sheinquired for the landlord, who came quickly, and at the same time thetrooper got up and crossed the room, giving no explanation to hiscompanion.
"Must we start early to reach Dorchester to-morrow?" the maid inquiredof the landlord.
"Yes, very early. The roads--"
"The roads are good, mistress," volunteered the trooper. "I have riddenover them to-day."
"You may be able to tell me better than the landlord, then," said thegirl, and for some minutes they talked in a low tone as they stood inthe doorway of the inn.
"A fine night, mistress," said the man as the girl was about to leavehim. "With the moon up like this, lovers should be abroad. It's but ahundred yards to the open fields; will you come?"
"With you!" exclaimed the girl scornfully, looking him up slowly fromhis boots to his eyes.
"Why not?" The maid's eyes were attractive, her figure was neat, and theman had sufficient ale in him to make him bold. For an instant theylooked at each other; then the girl laughed derisively.
"When the master grows tired, the man may prove useful, and the man hasa fancy for sampling the wares forthwith," said the trooper as he caughthold of the girl and would have kissed her. Perhaps he did not expectany great resistance, and was unprepared, but at any rate she slippedfrom his embrace, dealing him a resounding box upon the ears as she didso.
"You shall be punished further before many hours are over," said thegirl as she ran lightly up the stairs.
The man growled an oath as he stood with his hand to his assaulted ear.
"Did I not say that some were the devil to handle?" remarked hiscompanion, who had come to the common-room door, and was smiling grimly.
"I grant she takes first trick, and with a heavy hand for so small aperson, but the game is only commencing. One more draught of ale todrink success to the end of it, and then to horse."
As the troopers rode out of Witley presently a horseman drew back intothe shadow of some trees by the roadside to let them pass.
"The remaining two," he murmured. "That's well; they have given up thepursuit," and he turned and went at a brisk canter across country.
The maid said nothing about the trooper to her mistress; she only toldher that an early start would have to be made.
"Very well, Harriet, I shall want nothing more to-night, and will putmyself to bed."
But Barbara Lanison was in no haste to seek sleep. She was tired, bodilytired, but mentally she was wakeful. There were some hours still beforeshe could reach Dorchester, and many more hours might elapse before shecould get speech with Judge Marriott. Having determined to make thesacrifice, she was eager that it should be over and done with, that sheshould know the full extent of the sacrifice. And perhaps, at the backof her mind, there was a little fear of herself. The question wouldarise, again and again, no matter how she tried to suppress it, was shejustified in acting as she intended to do? Who was this man for whom shewas prepared to give so much? A notorious highwayman, upon whose headthere was a price. Yes, it was true, but he was also Gilbert Crosby, theman who had taken possession of her thoughts since the first moment shehad seen him, the man who had sheltered and helped the peasantry fleeingfrom an inhuman persecution, and who must now pay for his courage withhis life unless she pleaded for him. Was she justified? The questionsounded in her ears when she fell asleep; she heard it when she awokenext morning. Yes, and mentally she flung back the answer, yes, for toher Gilbert Crosby was something more than a brave man, and was dear toher in spite of everything. He was the man who had set an ideal in herheart, he was the man she loved. Hardly to herself would she admit it,but it was love that sent her to the West.
It was still early when the coach rolled out of Witley, but it was notearly enough, nor was the pace fast enough, to satisfy Barbara. Shebecame suddenly fearful of pursuit which might stop her from reachingDorchester. She began to dread some breakdown which might delay her andcause her to arrive too late.
"Shall we be in time?" she asked more than once, turning to HarrietPayne.
"Yes, madam, you need have no fear. The assizes have not yet begun inDorchester."
Pursuit was behind, but it was the pursuit of a friend. Whether it wasthe fault of the horseman or his mounts, disaster rode with MartinFairley. To begin with, his horse cast a shoe, and by the time a smithwas found and his work done, an hour had been wasted. Before the end ofthe first stage the horse collapsed; there was considerable difficultyin getting a remount, and the animal procured was a sorry beast forpace. Martin fretted at the delay, and cursed the adverse fates which sohindered him. Once he was within three miles of the coach, and then hishorse went dead lame. Hours were lost before he could get another horseand resume the journey, and during those hours much might have happened.
The coach had left only an hour when he arrived at the inn at Witley.
"Yes, the travellers were a lady and her maid," the landlord told him.
"Going to Dorchester?" Martin asked.
"Yes. They started early."
"Has anyone inquired for them?"
"No."
"Some breakfast, landlord--ale and bread and cheese will do--and a horseat once."
"Yes, sir."
"And for heaven's sake give me a horse with four sound legs and withwind enough in its bellows to stand a gallop."
Fairley was soon
in the saddle again, and this time with a better horseunder him. His spirits rose as the miles were left rapidly behind, andas he turned each bend in the road he looked eagerly for a dust cloudbefore him proclaiming that his pursuit was nearly at an end.
Barbara sat silently in the corner of the carriage, Harriet Payne satupright, looking from the window. It was Harriet who first noticed thatthe post-boy was suddenly startled, and that, in looking back, he hadalmost allowed the horses to swerve from the roadway.
"What is it?" she called from the window, as she looked back along theroad they had come.
The post-boy pointed with his whip. Barbara looked hastily from theother window. There was much dust from their own wheels, but, beyond,there was another cloud surrounding and half concealing a horseman whowas fast overtaking them.
"Looks like a highwayman," said the post-boy.
"Better a highwayman than some others who might have followed us," saidBarbara, leaning back in her corner again. "Tell the boy to go onquietly, Harriet. This may be a very worthy gentleman who has need ofhaste."
A few minutes later the horseman galloped up to the window.
"Martin! You!" Barbara exclaimed.
"Had I not been delayed upon the journey I should have caught you beforethis. I wish I had."
"Why, Martin? Do you suppose I am to be turned from my purpose?"
Fairley rode beside the open window, and Barbara leaned forward to talkwith him.
"I do not know your purpose," he said, "but I fear a trap has been setfor you."
"A trap!" Harriet exclaimed.
"Why do you think so, Martin?" Barbara asked.
Fairley told her how he had followed Sir John to the hostelry in theHaymarket.
"You see, mistress, he knew where you would hire. He went direct to thisplace and made his inquiries as though he knew beforehand what answershe would receive. His smile was so self-satisfied that I scenteddanger."
"And you see we are safe, nothing has happened."
"Not yet," was the answer. "There is presently a by-road I know of, andby your leave we will take it."
Barbara felt a little quick tug at her sleeve, and turned to Harriet.
"Do not give him leave. I do not trust him," whispered the girl.
"Why not?"
"Some who seem to be your friends are no friends to Mr. Crosby."
"This is no friend to be afraid of," laughed Barbara. "Were you not toldto seek a fiddler at Aylingford if you failed to find me? This is he!"
"A fiddler!" Harriet exclaimed. She had evidently not expected thefiddler to be a man of this sort, and was not satisfied.
Barbara turned to the window again. "Tell me what you fear, Martin. Imust not be hindered in reaching Dorchester, but take this by-road youtalk of if you think it safer."
"It will be a wise precaution, and will not delay us long upon thejourney." He rode forward a little, and spoke to the post-boy.
"He will delay us, I know he will," said Harriet. "I have no faith inhim, and it may just make the difference in saving my master."
"Don't be foolish, girl. Your master has no better friend in the world."
"I cannot help it, but I do not believe it," sobbed the girl.
"You have told me the assizes have not begun in Dorchester. We shall notbe too late."
"But they have hanged and shot men without waiting for a trial. I know;I have seen them. They hate my master, and were they to learn you werehurrying to his rescue, they would kill him before you came."
"I am doing my best," said Barbara.
"Keep to the high road, mistress," urged the girl.
Barbara turned from her impatiently, and Martin came back to the window.
"What is your purpose when you arrive in Dorchester?" he asked.
"I cannot tell you."
Martin made a little gesture to indicate Harriet Payne.
"I have told no one, and shall not do so until my purpose isaccomplished," said Barbara.
"Mistress, I have some knowledge of things in the West. My fiddle and Ihear many things, and I might give you useful news."
"You cannot help me in this, Martin."
"I am under no oath not to thwart you should the price you are preparedto pay be too large."
"That is why I do not tell you, Martin."
Fairley asked no further question, but rode on by the carriage insilence. He believed that she was going to bargain with Lord Rosmore,and his brain was full of schemes to frustrate her, or at least toprevent her fulfilling the bargain, even if it were made. It was notnecessary to be honest in dealing with such a scoundrel, he argued, andeven if it were wise to let the bargain be struck, he would see to itthat Lord Rosmore should not profit by it.
"This is the road," he said to the post-boy, and the carriage swunground into what was little more than a lane.
Harriet Payne gave a little cry, and looked from the window.
"I thought we were over, but we are off the road. Forbid this way,mistress; I pray you forbid it."
For an instant Barbara wondered whether this was a scheme of Martin's tokeep her from her purpose but the idea was absurd. He was as anxiousthat Gilbert Crosby should be rescued as she was. She commanded Harrietto keep quiet.
Progress was slower now, for this side road was heavy, and the coachcame near to being overturned more than once.
"It will be better presently," said Martin, but it was a long timebefore his prophecy came true, and when it did, the improvement was notvery great.
"I wouldn't have come if I had known," growled the post-boy.
"You'll go where you're told," said Martin, "and the more words aboutit, the less pay."
They had travelled slowly for an hour or more, along a winding roadbetween thick copses and high-hedged fields, when Martin suddenlybrought his horse to a standstill and listened.
"Stop!" he said to the post-boy, and immediately the grinding wheelswere still.
There was the quick thud of hoofs behind them, coming so rapidly thatthere was no hope of escape if they were pursued. Barbara leanedforward, looking at Martin as he unfastened the holster and half drewout a pistol; but Harriet Payne had thrust her head from the otherwindow.
"I knew it! He has betrayed us!" she said shrilly.
"The devil take that wench!" growled Martin.
Two men rode round the bend in the road, then two more, then others, ascore of them at least. With an oath Martin let the pistol fall backinto the holster. The odds were too great. His head sunk a little, andhe looked strangely limp in his saddle.
"Fire at them! Be a man and defend us!" shrieked Harriet, but Martin didnot move.
Barbara looked at him with wondering eyes; she was still looking at himwhen the coach was surrounded.
"Your servants, Mistress Lanison," said a man at the door. "We are sentto bring you to Dorchester."
"By whom?"
"I had my orders from my superior; I cannot say who first gave them."
"I am travelling to Dorchester."
"We must be your escort, madam."
"Am I a prisoner?"
"One that shall be well treated by us and by all, I trust. This roguehere has led you off the road. A little further from the highway and Isuppose you would have robbed them, you scoundrel."
"No, sir, I only thought the dust would be less this way," Fairleyanswered meekly.
Another man looked keenly at Martin, and then laughed.
"Surely this is that fiddler fellow we know something of?"
"Yes, sir," said Martin, crooking his arm as though a fiddle were in it,and in a timid voice he sang a few notes, like a wail, but they hadoften seemed a laugh to Barbara. She could not tell which they were now."My fiddle is lost, or I would play for you, so long, so sweetly, thatyou would see flagons of ale around you, and think you tasted them too."
"I would the fiddle were found, then," said one.
"Having lost it, you carry pistols instead."
"Yes, sir, every gentleman does so, but there's many
dare not use them.I didn't use them. You'll remember that, for it's to my credit, and letme go."
The man removed the pistols from his holster.
"They're dangerous toys for a fool."
"Truly, I feel much happier without them," said Martin.
"Coward!" said Harriet Payne from the window as the coach was turned."Coward!"
Barbara said nothing.
"Please let me ride by the other window," pleaded Martin. "This wenchhas no music in her soul, and does not like me."
"You shall ride behind," was the answer.
"Thank you, sir; I shall not see her then. She is not beautiful to lookat."
The man laughed.
"Look to this fool, some of you, and give him a cuff if he growssleepy."
"Sleepy! Never in good company," said Martin.
The post-boy whipped up the horses, and the carriage went slowly backtowards the main road, surrounded by its escort.
Barbara was still bound for Dorchester, but a prisoner. Would she now beable to get speech with Judge Marriott?
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