CHAPTER XVI. MR. GREEN EXECUTES HIS WARRANT
Five days later, Mr. Caryll--whose recovery had so far progressed thathe might now be said to be his own man again--came briskly up fromCharing Cross one evening at dusk, to the house at the corner of MaidenLane where Sir Richard Everard was lodged. He observed three or fourfellows lounging about the corner of Chandos street and Bedford street,but it did not occur to him that from that point they could command SirRichard's door--nor that such could be their object--until, as he swungsharply round the corner, he hurtled violently into a man who was movingin the opposite direction without looking whither he was going. Theman stepped quickly aside with a murmured word of apology, to give Mr.Caryll the wall that he might pass on. But Mr. Caryll paused.
"Ah, Mr. Green!" said he very pleasantly. "How d'ye? Have ye beensearching folk of late?"
Mr. Green endeavored to dissemble his startled expression in a grinthat revealed his white teeth. "Ye can't forgive me that blunder, Mr.Caryll," said he.
Mr. Caryll smiled fondly upon him. "From your manner I take it that onyour side you practice a more Christian virtue. It is plain that youforgive me the sequel."
Mr. Green shrugged and spread his hands. "You were in the right, sir;you were in the right," he explained. "Those are the risks a man of mycalling must run. I must suffer for my blunders."
Mr. Caryll continued to smile. But that the light was failing, the spymight have observed a certain hardening in the lines of his mouth."Here is a very humble mood," said he. "It is like the crouch beforethe spring. In whom do you design to plant your claws?--yours and yourfriends yonder." And he pointed with his cane across the street towardsthe loungers he had observed.
"My friends?" quoth Mr. Green, in a voice of disgust. "Nay, your honor!No friends of mine, ecod! Indeed, no!"
"No? I am at fault, then. Yet they look as if they might be bumbailiffs.'Tis the kind ye herd with, is't not? Give you good-even, Mr. Green."And he went on, cool and unconcerned, and turned in through the narrowdoorway by the glover's shop to mount the stairs to Sir Richard'slodging.
Mr. Green stood still to watch him go. Then he swore through his teeth,and beckoned one of those whose acquaintance he had disclaimed.
"'Tis like him, ecod! to have gone in in spite of seeing me and you!He's cool! Damned cool! But he'll be cooler yet, codso!" Then, brisklyquestioning his satellite: "Is Sir Richard within, Jerry?"
"Ay," answered Jerry--a rough, heavily-built tatterdemalion. "He's beenthere these two hours."
"'Tis our chance to nab 'em both, then-our last chance, maybe. The gameis up. That fine gentleman has smoked it." He was angry beyond measure.Their plans were far from ripe, and yet to delay longer now that theirvigilance was detected was, perhaps, to allow Sir Richard to slipthrough their fingers, as well as the other. "Have ye your barkers?" heasked harshly.
Jerry tapped a heavily bulging pocket, and winked. Mr. Green thrust histhree-cornered hat a-cock over one eye, and with his hands behind thetails of his coat, stood pondering. "Ay, pox on't!" he grumbled. "Itmust be done to-night. I dursn't delay longer. We'll give the gentlementime to settle comfortably; then up we go to make things merry for 'em."And he beckoned the others across.
Meanwhile Mr. Caryll had gone up with considerable misgivings. The lastletter he had received from Sir Richard--that day at Stretton House--hadbeen to apprise him that his adoptive father was on the point of leavingtown but that he would be returned within the week. The business thathad taken him had been again concerned with Atterbury the obstinate.Upon another vain endeavor to dissuade the bishop from a scheme his kingdid not approve had Sir Richard journeyed to Rochester. He had had hispains for nothing. Atterbury had kept him there, entertaining him,and seeking in his turn to engulf the agent in the business that wastoward--business which was ultimately to suck down Atterbury and hisassociates. Sir Richard, however, was very firm. And when at last heleft Rochester to return to town and his adoptive son, a coolness markedthe parting of those two adherents of the Stuart dynasty.
Returned to London--whence his absence had been marked with alarm by Mr.Green--Sir Richard had sent a message to Mr. Caryll, and the latter madehaste to answer it in person.
His adoptive father received him with open arms, and such a joy in hisface, such a light in his old eyes as should have gladdened his visitor,yet only served sadden him the more. He sighed as Sir Richard thrust himback that he might look at him.
"Ye're pale, boy," he said, "and ye look thinner." And with that he fellto reviling the deed that was the cause of this, Rotherby and the wholebrood of Ostermore.
"Let be," said Mr. Caryll, as he dropped into a chair. "Rotherby isundergoing his punishment. The town looks on him as a cut-throat who hasnarrowly escaped the gallows. I marvel that he tarries here. An I werehe, I think I'd travel for a year or two."
"What weakness made you spare him when ye had him at the point of yoursword?"
"That which made me regret that I had him there; the reflection that heis my brother."
Sir Richard looked at him in some surprise. "I thought you of sternerstuff, Justin," he said presently, and sighed, passing a long white handacross his bony brow. "I thought I had reared you to a finer strength.But there! What of Ostermore himself?"
"What of him?"
"Have you not talked again with him of the matter of going over to KingJames?"
"To what end, since the chance is lost? His betrayal now would involvethe betrayal of Atterbury and the others--for he has been in touch withthem."
"Has he though? The bishop said naught of this."
"I have it from my lord himself--and I know the man. Were he takenthey'd wring out of him whatever happened to be in him. He has nodiscretion. Indeed, he's but a clod, too stupid even to be aware of hisown stupidity."
"Then what is to be done?" inquired Sir Richard, frowning.
"We'd best get home to France again."
"And leave matters thus?" He considered a moment, and shook his head,smiling bitterly. "Could that content you, Justin? Could you go as youhave come--taking no more than you brought; leaving that man as youfound him? Could you?"
Mr. Caryll looked at the baronet, and wondered for a moment whether heshould persevere in the rule of his life and deal quite frankly withhim, telling him precisely what he felt. Then he realized that he wouldnot be understood. He could not combat the fanaticism that was SirRichard's in this matter. If he told him the truth; how he loathedthe task; how he rejoiced that circumstances had now put it beyondhis reach--all he would achieve would be to wound Sir Richard in histenderest place and to no purpose.
"It is not a matter of what I would," he answered slowly, wearilyalmost. "It is a matter of what I must. Here in England is no more tobe done. Moreover, there's danger for you in lingering, or I'm muchmistaken else."
"Danger of what?" asked Sir Richard, with indifference.
"You are being spied upon."
"Pho! I am accustomed to it. I have been spied upon all my life."
"Like enough. But this time the spies are messengers from the secretaryof state. I caught a glimpse of them lurking about your doorway--threeor four at least--and as I entered I all but fell over a Mr. Green--amost pertinacious gentleman with whom I have already some acquaintance.He is the very man who searched me at Maidstone; he has kept his eyeupon me ever since, which has not troubled me. But that he should keepan eye on you means that your identity is suspected, and if that beso--well, the sooner we are out of England the better for your health."
Sir Richard shook his head calmly. The fine-featured, lean old faceshowed no sign of uneasiness. "A fig for all that!" said he. "I go notthus--empty-handed as I came. After all these years of waiting."
A knock fell upon the door, and Sir Richard's man entered. His face waswhite, his eyes startled.
"Sir Richard," he announced, his voice lowered portentously, "there aresome men here who insist upon seeing you."
Mr. Caryll wheeled in his chair. "Surely they did not ask for him by
name?" he inquired in the same low key employed by the valet.
The man nodded in silence. Mr. Caryll swore through his teeth. SirRichard rose.
"I am occupied at present," he said in a calm voice. "I can receivenobody. Desire to know their business. If it imports, bid them comeagain to-morrow."
"It is over-urgent for that, Sir Richard Everard," came the soft voiceof Mr. Green, who thrust himself suddenly forward past the servant.Other figures were seen moving behind him in the ante-room.
"Sir," cried Sir Richard angrily. "This is a most insolent intrusion.Bentley, show this fellow the door."
Bentley set a hand on Mr. Green's shoulder. Mr. Green nimbly twistedout of it, and produced a paper. "I have here a warrant for yourapprehension, Sir Richard, from my Lord Carteret, the secretary ofstate."
Mr. Caryll advanced menacingly upon the tipstaff. Mr. Green steppedback, and fell into a defensive attitude, balancing a short butformidable-looking life-preserver.
"Keep your distance, sir, or 'twill be the worse for you," hethreatened. "Hi!" he called. "Jerry! Beattie!"
Jerry, Beattie, and two other ruffians crowded to the doorway, butadvanced little beyond the threshold. Mr. Caryll turned to Sir Richard.But Mr. Green was the first to speak.
"Sir Richard," said he, "you'll see that we are but instruments of thelaw. It grieves me profoundly to have you for our object. But ye'llsee that 'tis no affair of ours, who have but to do the duty that we'reordered. Ye'll not give these poor fellows trouble, I trust. Ye'llsurrender quietly."
Sir Richard's answer was to pull open a drawer in the writing-table, bywhich he was standing, and whip out a pistol.
What exactly he may have intended, he was never allowed to announce. Anexplosion shook the room, coming from the doorway, upon which Mr. Caryllhad turned his shoulder; there was a spurt of flame, and Sir Richardcollapsed forward onto the table, and slithered thence to the ground.
Jerry, taking fright at the sight of the pistol Sir Richard hadproduced, had forestalled what he supposed to be the baronet'sintentions by firing instantly upon him, with this disastrous result.
Confusion ensued. Mr. Caryll, with no more thought for the tipstavesthan he had for the smoke in his eyes or the stench of powder in hisnostrils, sped to Sir Richard. In a passion of grief and anxiety, heraised his adoptive father, aided by Bentley, what time Mr. Green wasabusing Jerry, and Jerry was urging in exculpation how he had actedpurely in Mr. Green's interest, fearing that Sir Richard might have beenon the point of shooting him.
The spy went forward to Mr. Caryll. "I am most profoundly sorry--" hebegan.
"Take your sorrow to hell," snarled Mr. Caryll, his face livid, his eyesblazing uncannily. "I believe ye've murdered him."
"Ecod! the fool shall smart for't if Sir Richard dies," grumbled Mr.Green.
"What's that to me? You may hang the muckworm, and what shall thatprofit any one? Will it restore me Sir Richard's life? Send one of yourruffians for a doctor, man. And bid him hasten."
Mr. Green obeyed with alacrity. Apart from his regrets at this happeningfor its own sake, it would suit his interests not at all that SirRichard should perish thus. Meanwhile, with the help of the valet, whowas blubbering like a child--for he had been with Sir Richard for overten years, and was attached to him as a dog to its master--they openedthe wounded man's sodden waistcoat and shirt, and reached the hurt,which was on the right side of the breast.
Between them they lifted him up gently. Mr. Green would have lent ahand, but a snarl from Mr. Caryll drove him back in sheer terror, andalone those two bore the baronet into the next room and laid him onhis bed. Here they did the little that they could; propping him upand stemming the bleeding, what time they waited through what seemeda century for the doctor's coming, Mr. Caryll mad--stark mad for thetime--with grief and rage.
The physician arrived at last--a small, bird-like man under a greatgray periwig, with pointed features and little eyes that beamed brightlybehind horn-rimmed spectacles.
In the ante-room he was met by Mr. Green, who in in a few words toldhim what had happened. Then the doctor entered the bedchamber alone, anddeposing hat and cane, went forward to make his examination.
Mr. Caryll and Bentley stood aside to give place to him. He stooped,felt the pulse, examined the lips of the wound, estimating the localityand direction of the bullet, and his mouth made a clucking sound as ofdeprecation.
"Very deplorable, very deplorable!" he muttered. "So hale a man, too,despite his years. Very deplorable!" He looked up. "A Jacobite, ye sayhe is, sir?"
"Will he live?" inquired Mr. Caryll shortly, by way of recalling the manof medicine to the fact that politics was not the business on which hehad been summoned.
The doctor pursed his lips, and looked at Mr. Caryll over the top of hisspectacles. "He will live--"
"Thank God!" breathed Mr. Caryll.
"--perhaps an hour," the doctor concluded, and never knew how near wasMr. Caryll to striking him. He turned again to his patient, producing aprobe. "Very deplorable!" Mr. Caryll heard him muttering, parrot-like.
A pause ensued, and a silence broken only by occasional cluckings fromthe little doctor, and Mr. Caryll stood by, a prey to an anguish morepoignant than he had ever known. At last there was a groan from thewounded man. Mr. Caryll started forward.
Sir Richard's eyes were open, and he was looking about him at thedoctor, the valet, and, lastly, at his adopted son. He smiled faintlyat the latter. Then the doctor touched Mr. Caryll's sleeve, and drew himaside.
"I cannot reach the bullet," he said. "But 'tis no matter for that." Heshook his head solemnly. "The lung has been pierced. A little time now,and--I can do nothing more."
Mr. Caryll nodded in silence, his face drawn with pain. With a gesturehe dismissed the doctor, who went out with Bentley.
When the valet returned, Mr. Caryll was on his knees beside the bed, SirRichard's hand in his, and Sir Richard was speaking in a feeble, hoarsevoice--gasping and coughing at intervals.
"Don't--don't grieve, Justin," he was saying. "I am an old man. Mytime must have been very near. I--I am glad that it is thus. It is muchbetter than if they had taken me. They'd ha' shown me no mercy. 'Tisswifter thus, and--and easier."
Silently Justin wrung the hand he held.
"You'll miss me a little, Justin," the old man resumed presently. "Wehave been good friends, lad--good friends for thirty years."
"Father!" Justin cried, a sob in his voice.
Sir Richard smiled. "I would I were your father in more than name,Justin. Hast been a good son to me--no son could have been more thanyou."
Bentley drew nigh with a long glass containing a cordial the doctor hadadvised. Sir Richard drank avidly, and sighed content when he returnedthe glass. "How long yet, Justin?" he inquired.
"Not long, father," was the gloomy answer.
"It is well. I am content. I am happy, Justin. Believe me, I am happy.What has my life been? Dissipated in the pursuit of a phantom." Hespoke musingly, critically calm, as one who already upon the brink ofdissolution takes already but an impersonal interest in the course hehas run in life.
Judging so, his judgment was clearer than it had yet been; it grew sane,and was freed at last from the hackles of fanaticism; and there wassomething that he saw in its true proportions. He sighed heavily.
"This is a judgment upon me," he said presently. He turned his greateyes full upon Justin, and their dance was infinitely wistful. "Do youremember, Justin, that night at your lodging--that first night on whichwe talked here in London of the thing you were come to do--the thing towhich I urged you? Do you recall how you upbraided me for having set youa task that was unworthy and revolting?"
"I remember," answered Justin, with an inward shudder, fearful of whatmight follow.
"Oh, you were right, Justin; right, and I was entirely wrong--wickedlywrong. I should have left vengeance to God. He is wreaking it.Ostermore's whole life has been a punishment; his end will be apunishment. I understand it now. We do no wrong in li
fe, Justin, forwhich in this same life payment is not exacted. Ostermore has beenpaying. I should have been content with that. After all, he is yourfather in the flesh, and it was not for you to raise your hand againsthim. 'Tis what you have felt, and I am glad you should have felt it, forit proves your worthiness. Can you forgive me?"
"Nay, nay, father! Speak not of forgiveness."
"I have sore need of it."
"Ah, but not from me; not from me! What is there I should forgive? Thereis a debt between us I had hoped to repay some day when you were growntruly old. I had looked to tend you in your old age, to be the comfortof it, and the support that you were to my infancy."
"It had been sweet, Justin," sighed Sir Richard, smiling upon hisadopted son, and putting forth an unsteady hand to stroke the white,drawn face. "It had been sweet. It is sweet to hear that you soproposed."
A shudder convulsed him. He sank back coughing, and there was frothand blood on his lips. Reverently Justin wiped them, and signed for thecordial to Bentley, who stood, numbed, in the background.
"It is the end," said Sir Richard feebly. "God has been good to mebeyond my deserts, and this is a crowning mercy. Consider, Justin, itmight have been the gibbet and a crowd--instead of this snug bed, andyou and Bentley here--just two good friends."
Bentley, losing all self-control at this mention of himself, sankweeping to his knees. Sir Richard put out a hand, and touched his head.
"You will serve Mr. Caryll, Bentley. You'll find him a good master ifyou are as good a servant to him as you have been to me."
Then suddenly he made the quick movement of one who bethinks himself ofsomething. He waved Bentley away.
"There is a case in the drawer yonder," he said, when the servant wasbeyond earshot. "It contains papers that concern you--certificates ofyour birth and of your mothers death. I brought them with me as proofsof your identity, against the time when the hour of vengeance uponOstermore should strike. They twill serve no purpose now. Burn them.They are best destroyed."
Mr. Caryll nodded understanding, and on Sir Richard's part therefollowed another fight for breath, another attack of coughing, duringwhich Bentley instinctively approached again.
When the paroxysm was past, Sir Richard turned once more to Justin, whowas holding him in his arms, upright, to ease his breathing. "Be good toBentley," he murmured, his voice very faint and exhausted now. "You aremy heir, Justin. All that I have--I set all in order ere I left Paris.It--it is growing dark. You have not snuffed the candles, Bentley. Theyare burning very low."
Suddenly he started forward, held as he was in Justin's arms. Hehalf-raised his arms, holding out his hands toward the foot of the bed.His eyes dilated; the expression of his livid face grew first surprised,then joyous--beatific. "Antoinette!" he cried in a loud voice. "Antoi--"
And thus, abruptly, but in great happiness, he passed.
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