CHAPTER XXXV
QUITS
Hemmed in by a compact little group of soldiers at the foot of thestairs, and with three men on guard at the head of it, Bathurst andPatience had but a few minutes in which to live these last brief momentsof their love.
She clung passionately to him, throwing aside all the haughty reserve ofher own proud nature: conquered by her great love: a woman only, whosevery life was bound up in his.
"They shall not take you!" she moaned in the agony of her despair."They shall not.... I will not let you go!"
And he held her in his arms now, savouring with exquisite delight thishappiest moment of his life, the joy of feeling her tender form clingingto him in passionate sorrow, to see the tears gathering in her blueeyes, one by one, for him and to know that her love--her great,measureless, divine love--was at last wholly his.
But the moments were brief, and the Sergeant below was already waxingimpatient. He drew her gently into a dark angle of the stairs, upagainst the banisters, and taking the packet of letters from his pocket,he pressed them into her hand.
"The letters! quick!" he whispered. "God guard you and him!"
"The letters?" she murmured mechanically.
"Aye! I can do nothing now ... but try to see the Duke of Cumberlandbefore you go to London, show him the letters.... He may be in thisvillage to-day ... if not, you can see him at Wirksworth.... He haspower to stay execution even if your brother is arrested ... he mightuse it, if he had seen the letters..."
"Yes! yes!" she murmured.
Sorrow seemed to have dazed her, she did not quite know what she wasdoing, but her left hand closed instinctively over the precious packet,then dropped listlessly by her side.
Neither she nor Bathurst had perceived a thin, attenuated figurehoisting itself monkey-wise over the dark portion of the banisters.
"Try and hear what those two are saying," Sir Humphrey had whispered,and the attorney, obedient and obsequious, had made a desperate effortto do as he was bid. The staircase was but partially lighted by aglimmer of daylight, which came slanting round the corner from thepassage. The banisters were in complete shadow, and the Sergeant andsoldiers were too intent on watching their prisoner to notice MasterMittachip or Sir Humphrey.
The next moment Patience felt a terrific wrench on all her fingers; evenas she uttered a cry of pain and alarm, the packet of letters was tornout of her hand from behind, and she was dimly conscious of a darkfigure clambering over the banisters and disappearing into the darknessbelow.
But with a mad cry of rage Jack Bathurst had bounded after thatretreating figure; wholly taken by surprise, he only saw the dim outlineof Mittachip's attenuated form, as the latter hastily dropped the packetof letters at Sir Humphrey Challoner's feet, who stooped to pick themup. Like an infuriated wild beast Jack fell on Sir Humphrey.
"You limb of Satan!" he gasped. "You ... you.... Give me back thoseletters! ... Stich! Stich! quick!..."
The force of the impact had thrown both men to the ground. Bathurst wasgripping his antagonist by the throat with fingers of steel. Butalready the Sergeant and his men had come to the rescue, dragging Jackaway from the prostrate figure of Sir Humphrey, whilst the soldiers fromabove had run down and were forcibly keeping John Stich in check.
Freed from his powerful antagonist, his Honour quietly picked himselfup, readjusted his crumpled neckcloth and flicked the dust from off hiscoat. He was calmly thrusting the packet of letters in his pocket,whilst the Sergeant was giving orders to his men to bind their prisonersecurely, if he offered further resistance.
"Sergeant!" said Bathurst, despairingly, "that miscreant has just stolensome letters belonging to her ladyship."
"Silence, prisoner!" commented the Sergeant. "You do yourself no good bythis violence."
It seemed as if Fate meant to underline this terrible situation with afinal stroke of her ironical pen, for just then the quiet village streetbeyond suddenly became alive with repeated joyous shouts and noise oftramping feet. In a moment the dull, monotonous air of Brassington wasfilled with a magnetic excitement which seemed to pervade all itsinhabitants at once, and even penetrated within the small dingy inn,where the last act of a momentous drama was at this moment being played.
"It must be the Duke of Cumberland's army!" quoth the Sergeant,straining his ears to catch the sound of a fast-approaching cavalcade.
"Then you'll please His Royal Highness with the smart capture you'vemade, Sergeant," said Sir Humphrey, with easy condescension.
This was indeed Fate's most bitter irony. "The Duke has power to stayexecution, and would use it if you showed him the letters!" These werethe last words of counsel Bathurst had given Patience, and now withfreedom for her brother almost within her grasp, she was powerless to doaught to save him.
"The letters, Sir Humphrey!" she murmured imploringly, "an you've aspark of honour left in you."
"Nay!" he retorted under his breath, with truly savage triumph, "an youdon't close your lover's mouth, I'll hand your brother over to thesesoldiers too, and then destroy the letters before your eyes."
He turned, and for a moment regarded with an almost devilish sneer thespectacle of his enemy rendered helpless at last. Bathurst, like somefettered lion caught in a trap, was still making frantic efforts to freehimself, until a violent wrench on his wounded shoulder threw him halfunconscious on his knees.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Sir Humphrey, "I think, my chivalrous friend, youand I are even at last."
"Come, prisoner, you'd best follow me quietly now," said the Sergeant,touched in spite of himself by Patience's terrible sorrow.
But at Sir Humphrey's final taunt Jack Bathurst had shaken off thedeadly feeling of sickness which was beginning to conquer him. He threwback his head, and with the help of the soldiers struggled again to hisfeet. The clamour outside was beginning to be louder and morecontinuous: through it all came the inspiriting sound of afast-approaching regimental band.
"The Duke of Cumberland, is it, Sergeant?" he said suddenly.
"Marching through the village on his way to the north," assented theSergeant. "Now then, prisoner..."
"Nay, then, Sergeant," shouted Jack in a loud voice, as, wrenching hisright arm from the grasp of the soldier who held him, he pointed to SirHumphrey Challoner, "detain that man! ... An I am the rebel Earl ofStretton, he was my accomplice, and has all the papers relating to ourgreat conspiracy at this moment about his person ... the door!--thedoor!" he added excitedly, "take care! ... he'll escape you! ... and hehas papers on him now that would astonish the King."
Instinctively the soldiers had rushed for both the doorways, and whenSir Humphrey, with a shrug of the shoulders, made a movement as if togo, the Sergeant barred the way and said,--
"One moment, sir."
"You would dare?" retorted Sir Humphrey, haughtily. "Are you such aconsummate fool as not to see that that man is raving mad?"
"Search him, Sergeant!" continued Bathurst, excitedly, "you'll find thetruth of what I say.... Search him ... her ladyship knows he was myaccomplice.... Search him!--the loss of those papers'd cost you yourstripes."
The Sergeant was not a little perplexed. Already, the day before, theseizure of Sir Humphrey Challoner's person had been attended withdisastrous consequences for the beadle of Brassington, and now....
No doubt the Sergeant would never have ventured, but the near approachof the Duke of Cumberland's army, and of his own superior officers, gavethe worthy soldier a certain amount of confidence. He had full rightsand powers of search, and had been sent to this part of the country tohunt for rebels. He had been tricked and hoodwinked more often than hecared to remember, and he knew that his superior officers would neverblame him for following up a clue, even if thereby he was somewhatoverstepping his powers.
"The papers," continued Bathurst, "the papers which'll prove his guilt... the papers! or he'll destroy them."
The Sergeant gave a last
look at his prisoner. He seemed secure enoughguarded by three men, who were even now strapping his hands behind hisback. The accusation therefore could be no trick to save his own skin,and who knows? if the Earl of Stretton was a rebel lord, then why notthe Squire of Hartington?
"Seize him, and search him!" commanded the Sergeant, "in the name of theKing!"
"Your pardon, sir," he added deferentially, "but the Duke of Cumberlandis within earshot almost, and I should be cashiered if I neglected myduty."
"This is an outrage!" cried Sir Humphrey, who had become purple withrage.
"It's doing your Honour no harm! and if I've done wrong no doubt I shallbe punished. Search him, my men!"
It was Sir Humphrey's turn now to be helpless in the hands of thesoldiers. He knew quite well that the Sergeant was within his duty andwould certainly not get punished for this. Worse outrages than thisattempt on his august person had been committed in the Midlands onimportant personages, on women and even children, during this terriblecampaign against fugitive rebels.
Less than five seconds had elapsed when the soldier drew the packet ofletters from Sir Humphrey's pocket and handed it to his Sergeant.
"They'd best be for His Royal Highness's own inspection," said thelatter, quietly, as he slipped them inside his scarlet coat.
"Aye! for His Royal Highness!" quoth Jack Bathurst in mad, wild,feverish glee. "Oh, now is it that your Honour thought you could beeven with me? What?"
Sir Humphrey was speechless with the hopelessness of his baffled rage.But Patience, almost hysterical with the intensity of her relief afterthe terrible suspense which she had just endured, had fallen back halffainting against the stairs, and murmuring,--
"The letters! ... Before His Royal Highness! ... Thank God! ... ThankGod!..."
Then suddenly she drew herself up, and laughing, crying, joyous, happy,she flew upstairs shouting,--
"Philip!--Philip!--come down!--come down! ... you are safe!..."
Beau Brocade: A Romance Page 34
