"We do not deny it," put in Blake. "But we submit that the matter is susceptible to explanation,"
"You can keep your explanations till your trial, then," snapped Albemarle. "I have heard more than enough to commit the pair of you to gaol."
"But, Your Grace," cried Sir Rowland, so fiercely that one of the tything-men set a restraining hand upon his shoulder, "I am ready to swear that what I did, and what my friend Mr. Westmacott did, was done in the interests of His Majesty. We were working to discover this plot."
"Which, no doubt," put in Trenchard slyly, "is the reason why, having got the letter, your friend Mr. Westmacott locked it in a desk, and you kept silence on the matter."
"You see," exclaimed Albemarle, "how your lies do but serve further to bind you in the toils. It is ever thus with traitors."
"I do think you are a damned traitor, Trenchard," began Blake; "a foul . . ."
But what more he would have said was checked by Albemarle, who thundered forth an order for their removal, and then, scarce were the words uttered than the door at the far end of the hall was opened, and through it came a sound of women' voices. Richard started, for one was the voice of Ruth.
An usher advanced. "May it please Your Grace, there are two ladies here beg that you will hear their evidence in the matter of Mr. Westmacott and Sir Rowland Blake."
Albemarle considered a moment. Trenchard stood very thoughtful.
"Indeed," said the Duke, at last, "I have heard as much as I need hear," and Sir Phelips nodded in token of concurrence.
Not so, however, Colonel Luttrell. "Still," said he, "in the interests of His Majesty, perhaps, we should be doing well to receive them."
Albemarle blew out his cheeks like a man wearied, and stared an instant at Luttrell. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
"Admit them, then," he commanded almost peevishly, and Ruth and Diana were ushered into the hall. Both were pale, but whilst Diana was fluttered with excitement, Ruth was calm and cool, and it was she who spoke in answer to the Duke's invitation. The burden of her speech was a clear, succinct recitation — in which she spared neither Wilding nor herself — of how the letter came to have remained in her hands and silence to have been preserved regarding it. Albemarle heard her very patiently.
"If what you say is true, mistress," said he, "and God forbid that I should be so ungallant as to throw doubt upon a lady's word, it certainly explains — although most strangely — how the letter was not brought to us at once by your brother and his friend Sir Rowland. You are prepared to swear that this letter was intended for Mr. Wilding?"
"I am prepared to swear it," she replied.
"This is very serious," said the Duke.
"Very serious," assented Sir Edward Phelips.
Albemarle, a little flustered, turned to his colleagues. "What do you say to this? Were it perhaps well to order Mr. Wilding's apprehension, and to have him brought hither?"
"It were to give yourselves useless trouble, gentlemen," said Trenchard, with so much assurance that it was plain Albemarle hesitated.
"Beware of Mr. Trenchard, Your Grace," cried Ruth. "He is Mr. Wilding's friend, and if there is a plot he is sure to be in it."
Albemarle, startled, looked at Trenchard. Had the accusation come from either of the men the Duke would have silenced him and abused him; but coming from a woman, and so comely a woman, it seemed to His Grace worthy at least of consideration. But nimble Mr. Trenchard was easily master of the situation.
"Which, of course," he answered, with fine sarcasm, "is the reason why I have been at work for the past four-and-twenty hours to lay proofs of this plot before Your Grace."
Albemarle was ashamed of his momentary hesitation.
"For the rest," said Trenchard, "it is perfectly true that I am Mr. Wilding's friend. But the lady is even more intimately connected with him. It happens that she is his wife."
"His . . . his wife!" gasped the Duke, whilst Phelips chuckled, and Colonel Luttrell's face grew dark.
Trenchard's wicked smile flickered upon his mobile features. "There are rumours current of court paid her by Sir Rowland, there. Who knows?" he questioned most suggestively, arching his brows and tightening his lips. "Wives are strange kittle-kattle, and husbands have been known before to grow inconvenient. Upon reflection, Your Grace will no doubt discern the precise degree of faith to attach to what this lady may tell you against Mr. Wilding."
"Oh!" exclaimed Ruth, her cheeks flaming crimson. "But this is monstrous!"
"Tis how I should myself describe it," answered Trenchard without shame.
Spurred to it thus, Ruth poured out the entire story of her marriage, and so clear and lucid was her statement that it threw upon the affair a flood of light, whilst so frank and truthful was her tone, her narrative hung so well together, that the Bench began to recover from the shock to its faith, and was again in danger of believing her. Trenchard saw this and trembled. To save Wilding for the Cause he had resorted to this desperate expedient of betraying that Cause. It must be observed, however, that he had not done so save under the conviction that betrayed it was bound to be, and that since that was inevitable the thing had better come from him — for Wilding's sake — than from Richard Westmacott. He had taken the bull by the horns in a most desperate fashion when he had determined to hoist Richard and Blake with their own petard, hoping that, after all, the harm would reach no further than the destruction of these two — a purely defensive measure. But now this girl threatened to wreck his scheme just as it was being safely steered to harbour. Suddenly he swung round, interrupting her.
"Lies, lies, lies!" he clamoured, and his interruption coming at such a time served to impress the Duke most unfavourably — as well it might.
"It is our wish to hear this lady out, Mr. Trenchard," the Duke reproved him.
But Mr. Trenchard was undismayed. Indeed, he had just discovered a hitherto neglected card, which should put an end to this dangerous game.
"I do abhor to hear Your Grace's patience thus abused," he exclaimed with some show of heat. "This lady makes a mock of you. If you'll allow me to ask two questions — or perhaps three — I'll promise finally to prick this bubble for you. Have I Your Grace's leave?"
"Well, well," said Albemarle. "Let us hear your questions." And his colleagues nodded.
Trenchard turned airily to Ruth. Behind her Diana sat — an attendant had fetched a chair for her — in fear and wonder at what she saw and heard, her eyes ever and anon straying to Sir Rowland's back, which was towards her.
"This letter, madam," said he, "for the possession of which you have accounted in so . . . so . . . picturesque a manner, was intended for and addressed to Mr. Wilding, you say. And you are prepared to swear to it?"
Ruth turned indignantly to the Bench. "Must I answer this man's questions?" she demanded.
"I think, perhaps, it were best you did," said the Duke, still showing her all deference.
She turned to Trenchard, her head high, her eyes full upon his wrinkled, cynical face. "I swear, then . . ." she began, but he — consummate actor that he was and versed in tricks that impress an audience — interrupted her, raising one of his gnarled, yellow hands.
"Nay, nay," said he. "I would not have perjury proved against you. I do not ask you to swear. It will be sufficient if you pronounce yourself prepared to swear."
She pouted her lip a trifle, her whole expression manifesting her contempt of him. "I am in no fear of perjuring myself," she answered fearlessly. "And I swear that the letter in question was addressed to Mr. Wilding."
"As you will," said Trenchard, and was careful not to ask her how she came by her knowledge. "The letter, no doubt, was in an outer wrapper, on which there would be a superscription — the name of the person to whom the letter was addressed?" he half questioned, and Luttrell, who saw the drift of the question, nodded gravely.
"No doubt," said Ruth.
"Now you will acknowledge, I am sure, madam, that such a wrapper would be a document of the greate
st importance, as important, indeed, as the letter itself, since we could depend upon it finally to clear up this point on which we differ. You will admit so much, I think?"
"Why, yes," she answered, but her voice faltered a little, and her glance was not quite so fearless. She, too, saw at last the pit he had dug for her. He leaned forward, smiling quietly, his voice impressively subdued, and launched the bolt that was to annihilate the credibility of the story she had told.
"Can you, then, explain how it comes that that wrapper has been suppressed? Can you tell us how — the matter being as you state it — in very self-defence against the dangers of keeping such a letter, your brother did not also keep that wrapper?"
Her eyes fell away from his face, they turned to Albemarle, who sat scowling again, and from him they flickered unsteadily to Phelips and Luttrell, and lastly, to Richard, who, very white and with set teeth, stood listening to the working of his ruin.
"I . . . I do not know," she faltered at last.
"Ah!" said Trenchard, drawing a deep breath. He turned to the Bench. "Need I suggest what was the need — the urgent need — for suppressing that wrapper?" quoth he. "Need I say what name was inscribed upon it? I think not. Your Grace's keen insight, and yours, gentlemen, will determine what was probable."
Sir Rowland now stood forward, addressing Albemarle. "Will Your Grace permit me to offer my explanation of this?"
Albemarle banged the table. His patience was at an end, since he came now to believe — as Trenchard had earlier suggested — that he had been played upon by Ruth.
"Too many explanations have I heard already, sir," he answered. He turned to one of his secretaries. In his sudden access of choler he forgot his colleagues altogether. "The prisoners are committed for trial," said he harshly, and Trenchard breathed freely at last. But the next instant he caught his breath again, for a ringing voice was heard without demanding to see His Grace of Albemarle at once, and the voice was the voice of Anthony Wilding.
CHAPTER XI
THE MARPLOT
MR. WILDING'S appearance produced as many different emotions as there were individuals present. He made the company a sweeping bow on his admission by Albemarle's orders, a bow which was returned by a stare from one and all. Diana eyed him in amazement, Ruth in hope; Richard averted his glance from that of his brother-in-law, whilst Sir Rowland met it with a scowl of enmity — they had not come face to face since the occasion of that encounter in which Sir Rowland's self-love had been so rudely handled. Albemarle's face expressed a sort of satisfaction, which was reflected on the countenances of Phelips and Luttrell; whilst Trenchard never thought of attempting to dissemble his profound dismay. And this dismay was shared, though not in so deep a measure, by Wilding himself. Trenchard's presence gave him pause; for he had been far, indeed, from dreaming that his friend had a hand in this affair. At sight of him all was made clear to Mr. Wilding. At once he saw the role which Trenchard had assumed on this occasion, saw to the bottom of the motives that had inspired him to take the bull by the horns and level against Richard and Blake this accusation before they had leisure to level it against himself.
His quick wits having fathomed Trenchard's motive, Mr. Wilding was deeply touched by this proof of friendship, and for a second, as deeply nonplussed, at a loss now how to discharge the task on which he came.
"You are very choicely come, Mr. Wilding," said Albemarle. "You will be able to resolve me certain doubts which have been set on foot by these traitors."
"That," said Mr. Wilding, "is the purpose for which I am here. News reached me of the arrest that had been made. May I beg that Your Grace will place me in possession of the facts that have so far transpired."
It was one of his secretaries who, at Albemarle's bidding, gave Wilding the information that he craved. He listened gravely; then, before Albemarle had time to question him on the score of the name that might have been upon the enfolding wrapper of the letter, he begged that he might confer apart a moment with Mr. Trenchard.
"But Mr. Wilding," said Colonel Luttrell, surprised not to hear the immediate denial of the imputation they had expected, "we should first like to hear . . ."
"By your leave, sirs," Wilding interrupted, "I should prefer that you ask me nothing until I have consulted with Mr. Trenchard." He saw Luttrell's frown, observed Sir Edward shift his wig to scratch his head in sheer perplexity, and caught the foreshadowing of denial on the Duke's face. So, without giving any of them time to say him nay, he added quickly and very seriously, "I am begging this in the interests of justice. Your Grace has told me that some lingering doubt still haunts your mind upon the subject of this letter — the other charges can matter little, apart from that treasonable document. It lies within my power to resolve such doubts most clearly and finally. But I warn you, sirs, that not one word will I utter in this connection until I have had speech with Mr. Trenchard."
There was about his mien and voice a firmness that forewarned Albemarle that to insist would be worse than idle. A slight pause followed his words, and Luttrell leaned across to whisper in His Grace's ear; from the Duke's other side Sir Edward bent his head forward till it almost touched those of his companions. Blake watched, and was most foolishly impatient.
"Your Grace will never allow this!" he cried.
"Eh?" said Albemarle, scowling at him.
"If you allow those two villains to consort together we are all undone," the baronet protested, and ruined what chance there was of Albemarle's not consenting.
It was the one thing needed to determine Albemarle. Like the stubborn man he was, there was naught he detested so much as to have his course dictated to him. More than that, in Sir Rowland's anxiety that Wilding and Trenchard should not be allowed to confer apart, he smoked a fear on Sir Rowland's part, based upon the baronet's consciousness of his own guilt. He turned from him with a sneering smile, and without so much as consulting his associates he glanced at Wilding and waved his hand towards the door.
"Pray do as you suggest, Mr. Wilding," said he. "But I depend upon you not to tax our patience."
"I shall not keep Mr. Trenchard a moment longer than is necessary," said Wilding, giving no hint of the second meaning in his words.
He stepped to the door, opened it himself, and signed to Trenchard to pass out. The old player obeyed him readily, if in silence. An usher closed the door after them, and in silence they walked together to the end of the passage.
"Where is your horse, Nick?" quoth Wilding abruptly.
"What a plague do you mean, where is my horse?" flashed Trenchard. "What midsummer frenzy is this? Damn you for a marplot, Anthony! What a pox are you thinking of to thrust yourself in here at such a time?"
"I had no knowledge you were in the affair," said Wilding. "You should have told me." His manner was brisk to the point of dryness. "However, there is still time to get you out of it. Where is your horse?"
"Damn my horse!" answered Trenchard in a passion. "You have spoiled everything!"
"On the contrary," said Mr. Wilding tartly, "it seems you had done that very thoroughly before I arrived. Whilst I am touched by the regard for me which has misled you into turning the tables on Blake and Westmacott, yet I do blame you for this betrayal of the Cause."
"There was no help for it."
"Why, no; and that is why you should have left matters where they stood."
Trenchard stamped his foot; indeed, he almost danced in the excess of his vexation. "Left them where they stood!" he echoed. "Body o' me! Where are your wits? Left them where they stood! And at any moment you might have been taken unawares as a consequence of this accusation being lodged against you by Richard or by Blake. Then the Cause would have been betrayed, indeed."
"Not more so than it is now."
"Not less, at least," snapped the player. "You give me credit for no more wit than yourself. Do you think that I am the man to do things by halves? I have betrayed the plot to Albemarle; but do you imagine I have made no provision for what must follow?"
"Aye, provision. God lack! What do you suppose Albemarle will do?"
"Dispatch a messenger to Whitehall with the letter within an hour."
"You perceive it, do you? And where the plague do you think Nick Trenchard'll be what time that messenger rides?"
Mr. Wilding understood. "Aye, you may stare," sneered Trenchard. "A letter that has once been stolen may be stolen again. The courier must go by way of Walford. I had in my mind arranged the spot, close by the ford, where I should fall upon him, rob him of his dispatches, and take him — bound hand and foot if necessary — to Vallancey's, who lives close by; and there I'd leave him until word came that the Duke had landed."
"That the Duke had landed?" cried Wilding. "You talk as though the thing were imminent."
"And imminent it is. For aught we know he may be in England already."
Mr. Wilding laughed impatiently. "You must forever be building on these crack-brained rumours, Nick," said he.
"Rumours!" roared the other. "Rumours? Ha!" He checked his wild scorn, and proceeded in a different key. "I was forgetting. You do not know the contents of that stolen letter."
Wilding started. Underlying his disbelief in the talk of the countryside, and even in the military measures which by the King's orders were being taken in the West, was an uneasy dread lest they should prove to be well founded, lest Argyle's operations in Scotland should be but the forerunner of a rash and premature invasion by Monmouth. He knew the Duke was surrounded by such reckless, foolhardy counsellors as Grey and Ferguson — and yet he could not think the Duke would ruin all by coming before he had definite word that his friends were ready. He looked at Trenchard now with anxious eyes.
"Have you seen the letter, Nick?" he asked, and almost dreaded the reply.
"Albemarle showed it me an hour ago," said Trenchard.
"And it contains?"
"The news we fear. It is in the Duke's own hand, and intimates that he will follow it in a few days — in a few days, man — in person."
Mistress Wilding (Barnes & Noble Digital Library) Page 11
