Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXVII

  ----This is some creature of the elements, Most like your sea-gull. He can wheel and whistle His screaming song, e'en when the storm is loudest-- Take for his sheeted couch the restless foam Of the wild wave-crest--slumber in the calm, And daily with the storm. Yet 'tis a gull, An arrant gull, with all this. --THE CHAMPION.

  "And here is to thee," said the fashionable gallant whom we havedescribed, "honest Tom; and a cup of welcome to thee out of Looby-land.Why, thou hast been so long in the country, that thou hast got abumpkinly clod-compelling sort of look thyself. That greasy doublet fitsthee as if it were thy reserved Sunday's apparel; and the points seem asif they were stay-laces bought for thy true-love Marjory. I marvel thoucanst still relish a ragout. Methinks now, to a stomach bound in such ajacket, eggs and bacon were a diet more conforming."

  "Rally away, my good lord, while wit lasts," answered his companion;"yours is not the sort of ammunition which will bear much expenditure.Or rather, tell me news from Court, since we have met so opportunely."

  "You would have asked me these an hour ago," said the lord, "had notyour very soul been under Chaubert's covered dishes. You rememberedKing's affairs will keep cool, and _entre-mets_ must be eaten hot."

  "Not so, my lord; I only kept common talk whilst that eavesdroppingrascal of a landlord was in the room; so that, now the coast is clearonce more, I pray you for news from Court."

  "The Plot is nonsuited," answered the courtier--"Sir George Wakemanacquitted--the witnesses discredited by the jury--Scroggs, who ranted onone side, is now ranting on t'other."

  "Rat the Plot, Wakeman, witnesses, Papists, and Protestants, alltogether! Do you think I care for such trash as that?--Till the Plotcomes up the Palace backstair, and gets possession of old Rowley's ownimagination, I care not a farthing who believes or disbelieves. I hangby him will bear me out."

  "Well, then," said the lord, "the next news is Rochester's disgrace."

  "Disgraced!--How, and for what? The morning I came off he stood as fairas any one."

  "That's over--the epitaph[*] has broken his neck--and now he may writeone for his own Court favour, for it is dead and buried."

  [*] The epitaph alluded to is the celebrated epigram made by Rochester on Charles II. It was composed at the King's request, who nevertheless resented its poignancy.

  The lines are well known:--

  "Here lies our sovereign lord the King, Whose word no man relies on, Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one."

  "The epitaph!" exclaimed Tom; "why, I was by when it was made; and itpassed for an excellent good jest with him whom it was made upon."

  "Ay, so it did amongst ourselves," answered his companion; "but it gotabroad, and had a run like a mill-race. It was in every coffee-house,and in half the diurnals. Grammont translated it into French too; andthere is no laughing at so sharp a jest, when it is dinned into yourears on all sides. So disgraced is the author; and but for his Grace ofBuckingham, the Court would be as dull as my Lord Chancellor's wig."

  "Or as the head it covers.--Well, my lord, the fewer at Court, thereis the more room for those that can bustle there. But there are twomainstrings of Shaftesbury's fiddle broken--the Popish Plot fallen intodiscredit--and Rochester disgraced. Changeful times--but here is to thelittle man who shall mend them."

  "I apprehend you," replied his lordship; "and meet your health with mylove. Trust me, my lord loves you, and longs for you.--Nay, I have doneyou reason.--By your leave, the cup is with me. Here is to his buxomGrace of Bucks."

  "As blithe a peer," said Smith, "as ever turned night to day. Nay, itshall be an overflowing bumper, an you will; and I will drink it _supernaculum_.--And how stands the great Madam?"[*]

  [*] The Duchess of Portsmouth, Charles II.'s favourite mistress; very unpopular at the time of the Popish Plot, as well from her religion as her country, being a Frenchwoman and a Catholic.

  "Stoutly against all change," answered the lord--"Little Anthony[*] canmake nought of her."

  [*] Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, the politician and intriguer of the period.

  "Then he shall bring her influence to nought. Hark in thine ear. Thouknowest----" (Here he whispered so low that Julian could not catch thesound.)

  "Know him?" answered the other--"Know Ned of the Island?--To be sure Ido."

  "He is the man that shall knot the great fiddle-strings that havesnapped. Say I told you so; and thereupon I give thee his health."

  "And thereupon I pledge thee," said the young nobleman, "which on anyother argument I were loath to do--thinking of Ned as somewhat the cutof a villain."

  "Granted, man--granted," said the other,--"a very thorough-pacedrascal; but able, my lord, able and necessary; and, in this plan,indispensable.--Pshaw!--This champagne turns stronger as it gets older,I think."

  "Hark, mine honest fellow," said the courtier; "I would thou wouldstgive me some item of all this mystery. Thou hast it, I know; for whom domen entrust but trusty Chiffinch?"

  "It is your pleasure to say so, my lord," answered Smith (whom we shallhereafter call by his real name of Chiffinch) with such drunken gravity,for his speech had become a little altered by his copious libations inthe course of the evening,--"few men know more, or say less, than I do;and it well becomes my station. _Conticuere omnes_, as the grammar hathit--all men should learn to hold their tongue."

  "Except with a friend, Tom--except with a friend. Thou wilt never besuch a dogbolt as to refuse a hint to a friend? Come, you get too wiseand statesman-like for your office.--The ligatures of thy most peasantlyjacket there are like to burst with thy secret. Come, undo a button,man; it is for the health of thy constitution--Let out a reef; and letthy chosen friend know what is meditating. Thou knowest I am as true asthyself to little Anthony, if he can but get uppermost."

  "_If_, thou lordly infidel!" said Chiffinch--"talk'st thou to me of_ifs?_--There is neither _if_ nor _and_ in the matter. The great Madamshall be pulled a peg down--the great Plot screwed a peg or two up. Thouknowest Ned?--Honest Ned had a brother's death to revenge."

  "I have heard so," said the nobleman; "and that his perseveringresentment of that injury was one of the few points which seemed to be asort of heathenish virtue in him."

  "Well," continued Chiffinch, "in manoeuvring to bring about thisrevenge, which he hath laboured at many a day, he hath discovered atreasure."

  "What!--In the Isle of Man?" said his companion.

  "Assure yourself of it.--She is a creature so lovely, that she needsbut be seen to put down every one of the favourites, from Portsmouth andCleveland down to that threepenny baggage, Mistress Nelly."

  "By my word, Chiffinch," said my lord, "that is a reinforcement afterthe fashion of thine own best tactics. But bethink thee, man! To makesuch a conquest, there wants more than a cherry-cheek and a brighteye--there must be wit--wit, man, and manners, and a little sensebesides, to keep influence when it is gotten."

  "Pshaw! will you tell me what goes to this vocation?" said Chiffinch."Here, pledge me her health in a brimmer.--Nay, you shall do it onknees, too.--Never such a triumphant beauty was seen--I went to churchon purpose, for the first time these ten years--Yet I lie, it was not tochurch neither--it was to chapel."

  "To chapel!--What the devil, is she a Puritan?" exclaimed the othercourtier.

  "To be sure she is. Do you think I would be accessory to bringing aPapist into favour in these times, when, as my good Lord said inthe House, there should not be a Popish manservant, nor a Popishmaid-servant, not so much as dog or cat, left to bark or mew about theKing!"[*]

  [*] Such was the extravagance of Shaftesbury's eloquence.

  "But consider, Chiffie, the dislikelihood of her pleasing," said thenoble courtier.--"What! old Rowley, with his wit, and love of wit--hiswildness, and love of wildness--he form a league with a silly,scrupulous, unidea'd Puritan!--Not i
f she were Venus."

  "Thou knowest nought of the matter," answered Chiffinch. "I tell thee,the fine contrast between the seeming saint and falling sinner willgive zest to the old gentleman's inclination. If I do not know him, whodoes?--Her health, my lord, on your bare knee, as you would live to beof the bedchamber."

  "I pledge you most devoutly," answered his friend. "But you have nottold me how the acquaintance is to be made; for you cannot, I think,carry her to Whitehall."

  "Aha, my dear lord, you would have the whole secret! but that I cannotafford--I can spare a friend a peep at my ends, but no one must look onthe means by which they are achieved."--So saying, he shook his drunkenhead most wisely.

  The villainous design which this discourse implied, and which his hearttold him was designed against Alice Bridgenorth, stirred Julian soextremely, that he involuntarily shifted his posture, and laid his handon his sword hilt.

  Chiffinch heard a rustling, and broke off, exclaiming, "Hark!--Zounds,something moved--I trust I have told the tale to no ears but thine."

  "I will cut off any which have drunk in but a syllable of thy words,"said the nobleman; and raising a candle, he took a hasty survey of theapartment. Seeing nothing that could incur his menaced resentment, hereplaced the light and continued:--"Well, suppose the Belle Louise deQuerouaille[*] shoots from her high station in the firmament, how willyou rear up the downfallen Plot again--for without that same Plot, thinkof it as thou wilt, we have no change of hands--and matters remainas they were, with a Protestant courtezan instead of a Papist--LittleAnthony can but little speed without that Plot of his--I believe, in myconscience, he begot it himself."[+]

  [*] Charles's principal mistress _en titre_. She was created Duchess of Portsmouth.

  [+] Shaftesbury himself is supposed to have said that he knew not who was the inventor of the Plot, but that he himself had all the advantage of the discovery.

  "Whoever begot it," said Chiffinch, "he hath adopted it; and a thrivingbabe it has been to him. Well, then, though it lies out of my way, Iwill play Saint Peter again--up with t'other key, and unlock t'othermystery."

  "Now thou speakest like a good fellow; and I will, with my own hands,unwire this fresh flask, to begin a brimmer to the success of thyachievement."

  "Well, then," continued the communicative Chiffinch, "thou knowest thatthey have long had a nibbling at the old Countess of Derby.--So Nedwas sent down--he owes her an old accompt, thou knowest--with privateinstructions to possess himself of the island, if he could, by help ofsome of his old friends. He hath ever kept up spies upon her; and happyman was he, to think his hour of vengeance was come so nigh. But hemissed his blow; and the old girl being placed on her guard, was soonin a condition to make Ned smoke for it. Out of the island he came withlittle advantage for having entered it; when, by some means--forthe devil, I think, stands ever his friend--he obtained informationconcerning a messenger, whom her old Majesty of Man had sent to Londonto make party in her behalf. Ned stuck himself to this fellow--a raw,half-bred lad, son of an old blundering Cavalier of the old stamp, downin Derbyshire--and so managed the swain, that he brought him to theplace where I was waiting, in anxious expectation of the pretty one Itold you of. By Saint Anthony, for I will swear by no meaner oath, Istared when I saw this great lout--not that the fellow is so ill-lookedneither--I stared like--like--good now, help me to a simile."

  "Like Saint Anthony's pig, an it were sleek," said the young lord; "youreyes, Chiffie, have the very blink of one. But what hath all this to dowith the Plot? Hold, I have had wine enough."

  "You shall not balk me," said Chiffinch; and a jingling was heard, asif he were filling his comrade's glass with a very unsteady hand."Hey--What the devil is the matter?--I used to carry my glasssteady--very steady."

  "Well, but this stranger?"

  "Why, he swept at game and ragout as he would at spring beef or summermutton. Never saw so unnurtured a cub--Knew no more what he ate than aninfidel--I cursed him by my gods when I saw Chaubert's _chef-d' oeuvres_glutted down so indifferent a throat. We took the freedom to spice hisgoblet a little, and ease him of his packet of letters; and the foolwent on his way the next morning with a budget artificially filled withgrey paper. Ned would have kept him, in hopes to have made a witness ofhim, but the boy was not of that mettle."

  "How will you prove your letters?" said the courtier.

  "La you there, my lord," said Chiffinch; "one may see with half aneye, for all your laced doublet, that you have been of the family ofFurnival's, before your brother's death sent you to Court. How prove theletters?--Why, we have but let the sparrow fly with a string round hisfoot.--We have him again so soon as we list."

  "Why, thou art turned a very Machiavel, Chiffinch," said his friend."But how if the youth proved restive?--I have heard these Peak men havehot heads and hard hands."

  "Trouble not yourself--that was cared for, my lord," saidChiffinch--"his pistols might bark, but they could not bite."

  "Most exquisite Chiffinch, thou art turned micher as well aspadder--Canst both rob a man and kidnap him!"

  "Micher and padder--what terms be these?" said Chiffinch. "Methinksthese are sounds to lug out upon. You will have me angry to the degreeof falling foul--robber and kidnapper!"

  "You mistake verb for noun-substantive," replied his lordship; "I said_rob_ and _kidnap_--a man may do either once and away without beingprofessional."

  "But not without spilling a little foolish noble blood, or some suchred-coloured gear," said Chiffinch, starting up.

  "Oh yes," said his lordship; "all this may be without these direconsequences, and as you will find to-morrow, when you return toEngland; for at present you are in the land of Champagne, Chiffie; andthat you may continue so, I drink thee this parting cup to line thynightcap."

  "I do not refuse your pledge," said Chiffinch; "but I drink to theein dudgeon and in hostility--It is cup of wrath, and a gage of battle.To-morrow, by dawn, I will have thee at point of fox, wert thou the lastof the Savilles.--What the devil! think you I fear you because you are alord?"

  "Not so, Chiffinch," answered his companion. "I know thou fearestnothing but beans and bacon, washed down with bumpkin-like beer.--Adieu,sweet Chiffinch--to bed--Chiffinch--to bed."

  So saying, he lifted a candle, and left the apartment. And Chiffinch,whom the last draught had nearly overpowered, had just strength enoughleft to do the same, muttering, as he staggered out, "Yes, he shallanswer it.--Dawn of day? D--n me--It is come already--Yonder's thedawn--No, d--n me, 'tis the fire glancing on the cursed red lattice--Itis the smell of the brandy in this cursed room--It could not be thewine--Well, old Rowley shall send me no more errands to the countryagain--Steady, steady."

  So saying, he reeled out of the apartment, leaving Peveril to think overthe extraordinary conversation he had just heard.

  The name of Chiffinch, the well-known minister of Charles's pleasures,was nearly allied to the part which he seemed about to play in thepresent intrigue; but that Christian, whom he had always supposeda Puritan as strict as his brother-in-law, Bridgenorth, should beassociated with him in a plot so infamous, seemed alike unnatural andmonstrous. The near relationship might blind Bridgenorth, and warranthim in confiding his daughter to such a man's charge; but what a wretchhe must be, that could coolly meditate such an ignominious abuse ofhis trust! In doubt whether he could credit for a moment the tale whichChiffinch had revealed, he hastily examined his packet, and found thatthe sealskin case in which it had been wrapt up, now only contained anequal quantity of waste paper. If he had wanted farther confirmation,the failure of the shot which he fired at Bridgenorth, and of which thewadding only struck him, showed that his arms had been tampered with.He examined the pistol which still remained charged, and found that theball had been drawn. "May I perish," said he to himself, "amid thesevillainous intrigues, but thou shalt be more surely loaded, andto better purpose! The contents of these papers may undo mybenefactress--their having been found on me, may ruin my father--thatI have been the bear
er of them, may cost, in these fiery times, myown life--that I care least for--they form a branch of the scheme laidagainst the honour and happiness of a creature so innocent, that it isalmost sin to think of her within the neighbourhood of such infamousknaves. I will recover the letters at all risks--But how?--that is tobe thought on.--Lance is stout and trusty; and when a bold deed is onceresolved upon, there never yet lacked the means of executing it."

  His host now entered, with an apology for his long absence; and afterproviding Peveril with some refreshments, invited him to accept, for hisnight-quarters, the accommodation of a remote hayloft, which he was toshare with his comrade; professing, at the same time, he could hardlyhave afforded them this courtesy, but out of deference to the exquisitetalents of Lance Outram, as assistant at the tap; where, indeed, itseems probable that he, as well as the admiring landlord, did thatevening contrive to drink nearly as much liquor as they drew.

  But Lance was a seasoned vessel, on whom liquor made no lastingimpression; so that when Peveril awaked that trusty follower at dawn, hefound him cool enough to comprehend and enter into the design which heexpressed, of recovering the letters which had been abstracted from hisperson.

  Having considered the whole matter with much attention, Lance shrugged,grinned, and scratched his head; and at length manfully expressed hisresolution. "Well, my naunt speaks truth in her old saw----

  'He that serves Peveril maunna be slack, Neither for weather, nor yet for wrack.'

  And then again, my good dame was wont to say, that whenever Peveril wasin a broil, Outram was in a stew; so I will never bear a base mind, buteven hold a part with you as my fathers have done with yours, for fourgenerations, whatever more."

  "Spoken like a most gallant Outram," said Julian; "and were we but ridof that puppy lord and his retinue, we two could easily deal with theother three."

  "Two Londoners and a Frenchman?" said Lance,--"I would take them in mineown hand. And as for my Lord Saville, as they call him, I heard wordlast night that he and all his men of gilded gingerbread--that looked atan honest fellow like me, as if they were the ore and I the dross--areall to be off this morning to some races, or such-like junketings, aboutTutbury. It was that brought him down here, where he met this othercivet-cat by accident."

  In truth, even as Lance spoke, a trampling was heard of horses in theyard; and from the hatch of their hayloft they beheld Lord Saville'sattendants mustered, and ready to set out as soon as he could make hisappearance.

  "So ho, Master Jeremy," said one of the fellows, to a sort of principalattendant, who just came out of the house, "methinks the wine has proveda sleeping cup to my lord this morning."

  "No," answered Jeremy, "he hath been up before light writing letters forLondon; and to punish thy irreverence, thou, Jonathan, shalt be the manto ride back with them."

  "And so to miss the race?" said Jonathan sulkily; "I thank you for thisgood turn, good Master Jeremy; and hang me if I forget it."

  Farther discussion was cut short by the appearance of the youngnobleman, who, as he came out of the inn, said to Jeremy, "These be theletters. Let one of the knaves ride to London for life and death, anddeliver them as directed; and the rest of them get to horse and followme."

  Jeremy gave Jonathan the packet with a malicious smile; and thedisappointed groom turned his horse's head sullenly towards London,while Lord Saville, and the rest of his retinue, rode briskly off inan opposite direction, pursued by the benedictions of the host and hisfamily, who stood bowing and courtesying at the door, in gratitude,doubtless, for the receipt of an unconscionable reckoning.

  It was full three hours after their departure, that Chiffinch loungedinto the room in which they had supped, in a brocade nightgown, andgreen velvet cap, turned up with the most costly Brussels lace. Heseemed but half awake; and it was with drowsy voice that he called fora cup of cold small beer. His manner and appearance were those of a manwho had wrestled hard with Bacchus on the preceding evening, and hadscarce recovered the effects of his contest with the jolly god.Lance, instructed by his master to watch the motions of the courtier,officiously attended with the cooling beverage he called for, pleading,as an excuse to the landlord, his wish to see a Londoner in hismorning-gown and cap.

  No sooner had Chiffinch taken his morning draught, than he inquiredafter Lord Saville.

  "His lordship was mounted and away by peep of dawn," was Lance's reply.

  "What the devil!" exclaimed Chiffinch; "why, this is scarcecivil.--What! off for the races with his whole retinue?"

  "All but one," replied Lance, "whom his lordship sent back to Londonwith letters."

  "To London with letters!" said Chiffinch. "Why, I am for London, andcould have saved his express a labour.--But stop--hold--I begin torecollect--d----n, can I have blabbed?--I have--I have--I remember itall now--I have blabbed; and to the very weasel of the Court, who sucksthe yelk out of every man's secret. Furies and fire--that my afternoonsshould ruin my mornings thus!--I must turn boon companion and goodfellow in my cups--and have my confidences and my quarrels--my friendsand my enemies, with a plague to me, as if any one could do a man muchgood or harm but his own self. His messenger must be stopped, though--Iwill put a spoke in his wheel.--Hark ye, drawer-fellow--call my groomhither--call Tom Beacon."

  Lance obeyed; but failed not, when he had introduced the domestic, toremain in the apartment, in order to hear what should pass betwixt himand his master.

  "Hark ye, Tom," said Chiffinch, "here are five pieces for you."

  "What's to be done now, I trow?" said Tom, without even the ceremony ofreturning thanks, which he was probably well aware would not be receivedeven in part payment of the debt he was incurring.

  "Mount your fleet nag, Tom--ride like the devil--overtake the groom whomLord Saville despatched to London this morning--lame his horse--breakhis bones--fill him as drunk as the Baltic sea; or do whatever may bestand most effectively stop his journey.--Why does the lout stand therewithout answering me? Dost understand me?"

  "Why, ay, Master Chiffinch," said Tom; "and so I am thinking doth thishonest man here, who need not have heard quite so much of your counsel,an it had been your will."

  "I am bewitched this morning," said Chiffinch to himself, "or else thechampagne runs in my head still. My brain has become the very lowlandsof Holland--a gill-cup would inundate it--Hark thee, fellow," he added,addressing Lance, "keep my counsel--there is a wager betwixt LordSaville and me, which of us shall first have a letter in London. Hereis to drink my health, and bring luck on my side. Say nothing of it; buthelp Tom to his nag.--Tom, ere thou startest come for thy credentials--Iwill give thee a letter to the Duke of Bucks, that may be evidence thouwert first in town."

  Tom Beacon ducked and exited; and Lance, after having made some showof helping him to horse, ran back to tell his master the joyfulintelligence, that a lucky accident had abated Chiffinch's party totheir own number.

  Peveril immediately ordered his horses to be got ready; and, so soonas Tom Beacon was despatched towards London, on a rapid trot, had thesatisfaction to observe Chiffinch, with his favourite Chaubert, mountto pursue the same journey, though at a more moderate rate. He permittedthem to attain such a distance, that they might be dogged withoutsuspicion; then paid his reckoning, mounted his horse, and followed,keeping his men carefully in view, until he should come to a placeproper for the enterprise which he meditated.

  It had been Peveril's intention, that when they came to some solitarypart of the road, they should gradually mend their pace, until theyovertook Chaubert--that Lance Outram should then drop behind, in orderto assail the man of spits and stoves, while he himself, spurringonwards, should grapple with Chiffinch. But this scheme presupposed thatthe master and servant should travel in the usual manner--the latterriding a few yards behind the former. Whereas, such and so interestingwere the subjects of discussion betwixt Chiffinch and the French cook,that, without heeding the rules of etiquette, they rode on together,amicably abreast, carrying on a conversation on the mysteries o
f thetable, which the ancient Comus, or a modern gastronome, might havelistened to with pleasure. It was therefore necessary to venture on themboth at once.

  For this purpose, when they saw a long tract of road before them,unvaried by the least appearance of man, beast, or human habitation,they began to mend their pace, that they might come up to Chiffinch,without giving him any alarm, by a sudden and suspicious increase ofhaste. In this manner they lessened the distance which separated themtill they were within about twenty yards, when Peveril, afraid thatChiffinch might recognise him at a nearer approach, and so trust to hishorse's heels, made Lance the signal to charge.

  At the sudden increase of their speed, and the noise with which it wasnecessarily attended, Chiffinch looked around, but had time to do nomore, for Lance, who had pricked his pony (which was much more speedythan Julian's horse) into full gallop, pushed, without ceremony, betwixtthe courtier and his attendant; and ere Chaubert had time for morethan one exclamation, he upset both horse and Frenchman,--_morbleu!_thrilling from his tongue as he rolled on the ground amongst the variousarticles of his occupation, which, escaping from the budget in whichhe bore them, lay tumbled upon the highway in strange disorder; whileLance, springing from his palfrey, commanded his foeman to be still,under no less a penalty than that of death, if he attempted to rise.

  Before Chiffinch could avenge his trusty follower's downfall, his ownbridle was seized by Julian, who presented a pistol with the other hand,and commanded him to stand or die.

  Chiffinch, though effeminate, was no coward. He stood still ascommanded, and said, with firmness, "Rogue, you have taken me atsurprise. If you are highwaymen, there is my purse. Do us no bodilyharm, and spare the budget of spices and sauces."

  "Look you, Master Chiffinch," said Peveril, "this is no time fordallying. I am no highwayman, but a man of honour. Give me back thatpacket which you stole from me the other night; or, by all that is good,I will send a brace of balls through you, and search for it at leisure."

  "What night?--What packet?" answered Chiffinch, confused; yet willingto protract the time for the chance of assistance, or to put Peveril offhis guard. "I know nothing of what you mean. If you are a man of honour,let me draw my sword, and I will do you right, as a gentleman should doto another."

  "Dishonourable rascal!" said Peveril, "you escape not in this manner.You plundered me when you had me at odds; and I am not the fool to letmy advantage escape, now that my turn is come. Yield up the packet;and then, if you will, I will fight you on equal terms. But first," hereiterated, "yield up the packet, or I will instantly send you where thetenor of your life will be hard to answer for."

  The tone of Peveril's voice, the fierceness of his eye, and themanner in which he held the loaded weapon, within a hand's-breadthof Chiffinch's head, convinced the last there was neither room forcompromise, nor time for trifling. He thrust his hand into a side pocketof his cloak, and with visible reluctance, produced those papers anddespatches with which Julian had been entrusted by the Countess ofDerby.

  "They are five in number," said Julian; "and you have given me onlyfour. Your life depends on full restitution."

  "It escaped from my hand," said Chiffinch, producing the missingdocument--"There it is. Now, sir, your pleasure is fulfilled, unless,"he added sulkily, "you design either murder or farther robbery."

  "Base wretch!" said Peveril, withdrawing his pistol, yet keeping awatchful eye on Chiffinch's motions, "thou art unworthy any honest man'ssword; and yet, if you dare draw your own, as you proposed but now, I amwilling to give you a chance upon fair equality of terms."

  "Equality!" said Chiffinch sneeringly; "yes, a proper equality--swordand pistol against single rapier, and two men upon one, for Chaubert isno fighter. No sir; I shall seek amends upon some more fitting occasion,and with more equal weapons."

  "By backbiting, or by poison, base pander!" said Julian; "these are thymeans of vengeance. But mark me--I know your vile purpose respectinga lady who is too worthy that her name should be uttered in such aworthless ear. Thou hast done me one injury, and thou see'st I haverepaid it. But prosecute this farther villainy, and be assured I willput thee to death like a foul reptile, whose very slaver is fatal tohumanity. Rely upon this, as if Machiavel had sworn it; for so surelyas you keep your purpose, so surely will I prosecute my revenge.--Followme, Lance, and leave him to think on what I have told him."

  Lance had, after the first shock, sustained a very easy part in thisrecontre; for all he had to do, was to point the butt of his whip, inthe manner of a gun, at the intimidated Frenchman, who, lying on hisback, and gazing at random on the skies, had as little the power orpurpose of resistance, as any pig which had ever come under his ownslaughter-knife.

  Summoned by his master from the easy duty of guarding such anunresisting prisoner, Lance remounted his horse, and they both rode off,leaving their discomfited antagonists to console themselves for theirmisadventure as they best could. But consolation was hard to come by inthe circumstances. The French artist had to lament the dispersion ofhis spices, and the destruction of his magazine of sauces--an enchanterdespoiled of his magic wand and talisman, could scarce have been inmore desperate extremity. Chiffinch had to mourn the downfall of hisintrigue, and its premature discovery. "To this fellow, at least,"he thought, "I can have bragged none--here my evil genius alone hasbetrayed me. With this infernal discovery, which may cost me so dearon all hands, champagne had nought to do. If there be a flask leftunbroken, I will drink it after dinner, and try if it may not even yetsuggest some scheme of redemption and of revenge."

  With this manly resolution, he prosecuted his journey to London.