CHAPTER XII.

THE GHOST OF HUNSTANTON PLACE.

"'Be brave!' she cried, 'you yet may be our guest; Our haunted room was ever held the best. If, then, your valour can the fright sustain Of rustling curtains and of clinking chain.'" SCOTT, _Old Play._

Early next morning Mr. Rogers was on his way to Inglethorpe. For some distance his ride was uneventful; but as he entered Castle Rising, he was roused from his meditations by very doleful cries for help. No one in distress ever appealed in vain to the kindly minister, and he instantly drew rein, and perceived, sitting by the road, a man, whose tawdry finery was so covered with dirt and filth as to be hardly visible. His head was tied up with a rag, and one of his legs was fast chained to a heavy log. Several urchins stood round him, and the rotten apples and egg-shells that lay about, showed the boys had been taking an active part in vindicating the majesty of the law.

"Oh, good sir, kind sir!" wailed the miserable object; "you ride Hunstanton way. Do have pity, and let Justice Tomkins know of my plight!"

"Justice Tomkins?" asked Mr. Rogers, with some interest. "What have you to say to Justice Tomkins?"

"Oh, kind sir, 'twas I that first put him on track of the plot--the Fifth-Monarchy plot, and the conspirators in hiding at Inglethorpe. And these ignorant folk will believe none of it, and hold me clapped up here as though I were a strayed donkey, 'od rot 'em!"

"Why is this man chained up here?" asked Mr. Rogers, of the biggest of the grinning boys.

"He frightened Molly Kett into fits, yesterday, and he robbed parson's hen-roosts the night afoor," answered the boy, taking a final bite out of an apple before aiming the core of it at the prisoner's eye; "and so his worship have clapped him into jail!"

"Into jail! Is this what you call jail?"

"Why, this be Castle Rising Jail, all the world knows? This here log is Roaring Meg, and that be Pretty Betty. Us be main proud of our jail--us be!"

"Where is your magistrate, your justice?" asked the minister.

"The mayor? Why, there he be! Your worship"--raising his voice to a shout--"here be a stranger fares to see you!"

"Does stranger want a thatcher?" answered a voice. "If he wants a thatcher, I'll come down to he; but if he wants the mayor, he must come up to I!"

Mr. Rogers raised his eyes and saw a portly man standing on a ladder, with a handful of golden straw, putting the last touches to a thatched roof. The thatcher Mayor of Castle Rising was a well-known personage in the country, and, removing his hat, Mr. Rogers stepped to the foot of the ladder and bade the dignitary good morning.

"May I be so far troublesome, sir, as to ask if this fellow, who sits tied by the leg, is indeed the man who gave Justice Tomkins news of a plot?"

"I know nothing of Justice Tomkins, sir," answered the mayor, raising his hat in his turn, "neither does Justice Tomkins know aught of me. Castle Rising is my place of office, and thatching is my trade, and I meddle with no other man's business. That drunken knave hath frightened a woman and robbed a hen-roost, for which I have committed him to jail, as by my duty bound, and I know nothing more of him."

"Sir, your discretion does you great honour," answered Mr. Rogers. "But it is not from idle curiosity that I inquire concerning this man, but from interest in a young gentlewoman who, I fear, hath been frightened out of the country by his malicious tales."

The temptation to a gossip was too much for the mayor's dignity. He turned round on the top of his ladder, and settled himself leisurely and began--

"And who may this gentlewoman be, good sir?"

The man's face was sensible and honest. Mr. Rogers rapidly decided that his help would be worth seeking.

"Mistress Perrient, of Inglethorpe, the granddaughter of old Sir Gyles Perrient."

"Sir Gyles was a very worthy gentleman. There is no man nor woman in the country but will say a good word for Sir Gyles Perrient, and I've never heard that his grandarter has done aught to fly the country for."

"We are in great anxiety as to Mistress Perrient's fate. None of her friends know where she is hid. I suppose you can give me no help?"

"Mistress Perrient," said the mayor, meditating, and coming a step or two down his ladder. "I hope the maid's come to no harm. What are they charging her of?"

"Being party to some manner of plot; but I know not precisely how the tale runs."

"'Tisn't likely a young maid would go for to be party to a plot, is it now?" said the mayor, growing more colloquial as he grew interested; "leastways, without there was a young man in it. A discreet maid will go the length of her tether if there be but a young man in the matter."

Mr. Rogers was rather taken aback by the correctness of this guess.

"Sir, you show much knowledge of the world," he answered at last; "but I have no doubt that this story is entirely trumped up by that runnagate yonder, to gain favour in the sight of the justice."

"Ay, 'tis very like;" and then, lowering his voice, the mayor continued, "I knoo naught of Justice Tomkins, as I said, and I have no dealings with him; but if he wants that there fellow to bear witness again' Mistress Perrient, he will have to wait a while, we like him too well to spare him for a bit," and the mayor gave a solemn wink. "I knoo naught of Mistress Perrient, good nor bad, and I never said a word to her, good nor bad, all my days--but a gentlewoman, on a dapple-grey pony, rode across the common about noon yesterday. A great straw hat she had. I took heed on the straw hat, for I was fetching a load of straw across the common for to thatch this roof, and she made down the trackway towards Inglethorpe--the trackway through the woods. 'Tis bad going, but 'tis a short cut, and private."

"I thank you heartily," answered Mr. Rogers. "I shall doubtless now get news of her from her old servant at Inglethorpe. These seasonable words of yours have greatly lightened my heart, and I go on my way with much thankfulness to you, and to the Lord who hath directed my steps hither."

"I am glad to oblige you, sir," answered the mayor, civilly, and so they parted.

By midday Mr. Rogers had reached Inglethorpe, and found the old cowman pottering about his farmyard. John looked with stolid indifference at the stranger.

"Noo; Mistress Perrient bean't here. Constables have took her to Hunstanton, to the justices."

"The constables!" cried the minister, in dismay. "When did they take her?"

"Two days agone, and left Jack Catlin in the house here to keep watch."

"Oh, then, friend," answered Mr. Rogers, "I have later news than yours. I know she rode into King's Lynn yester morning, and left her horse at Goodman Nobbs's, for you to fetch home."

John grinned and looked the questioner over, as if to measure how many lies it was safe to tell him.

"And we know further," continued Mr. Rogers, "that she rode away from Goodman Nobbs' as if she would return here, and methinks that grey pony I see in your shed yonder doth marvellously resemble the one I heard of her riding."

"Ay, ay," grinned John, "the poor beast knows his road home right well; he comes back to his stable like a Christian."

"Then we are afraid some accident may have befallen the gentlewoman," urged the minister; "if the horse came back without her, she may have fallen off, and be lying hurt somewhere."

"Ise warrant her can take care of herself," answered the old man. "I never meddled with missis's business, nor never will. And if her choose to send her horse home, her has the right to please herself;" and he resumed his sweeping with an immovable face, and neither persuasion nor entreaty could win another word from him.

Mr. Rogers stood awhile in perplexity, and then turned to try his fortune at the Hall. But there the constable could tell him nothing that he did not know already, and he began to despair of finding any further trace of the fugitive. He ran over in his mind the places Dick had mentioned. It seemed mere folly to hope to hear of her at Hunstanton. But at the thought of Hunstanton the remembrance of Harrison's description of the good-natured landlady at the Royal Oak suddenly flashed on him. It was just possible that the girl might have fled there, and thrown herself on the protection of the only person who seemed to have had a kind word for her in her extremity. He turned his weary horse, and trotted forward to Hunstanton.

The great door of the inn stood hospitably open, but the usual air of joviality seemed to have forsaken the place. The stable-man stood idly by the horse-trough, gossiping with two scared-looking maids, and a knot of boys stared up at the windows of the great house as if they expected to see some strange sight to appear. The maids fled as the visitor drew rein at the door.

"Is there trouble in the house, friend?" asked Mr. Rogers, as he dismounted.

The hostler shook his head solemnly. "'Tain't for me to say if it be trouble, nor what it be. The less I says the better, if missus be in hearing; but here her comes, and her'll do all the talking, I reckon."

Mistress Joyce's voice indeed went before her as she bustled from the back regions to receive her guest, and if her face was somewhat pale and her cap was awry, her hospitality was as ready, and her tongue as voluble as ever. The newcomer could but partly state his errand when she launched forth--

"Desire news of Mistress Perrient, sir? Ay, dear, dear, dear! Poor, sweet young gentlewoman! Pray, sir, come in, and take a chair in my parlour. I am rare glad to see any one who is a friend to our young lady. John hostler, take the gentleman's nag. All the way from Lynn! You do fare to be wholly weary, and your nag, too. Mistress Perrient! Why, sir, I have known her since she was that high. My husband held one of Sir Gyles' farms when first we came into this country. A sweet young gentlewoman she always has been, and a Perrient from top to toe. They be all as proud as proud. Old Sir Gyles, now, he was like as it were a king in the county. But to think of the constables making bold to lock our young lady up. No wonder the spirit of her couldn't brook it!"

"But what did she do, good dame; how could she not brook it? Where is she now? Do you know aught of her?"

"I would I knew," answered Mrs. Joyce, shaking her head solemnly; "but I have my thoughts, whatever folks may say. All I can say is, I saw her locked up in my best chamber on Wednesday night, and next morning, when Tom Constable opened the door, he fared to be wholly stanned, for there was naught to be seen, no more than if her'd flown out of window. Some folks are so bold as to say she 'as made away with herself, but that I'll never credit. I fare to think if ever miracles are worked 'tis the time for such to come to pass when a sweet young gentlewoman, and one of the real quality, is locked up by them jacks-in-office! Don't you think so, sir? And all for to furbish up Justice Tomkins' new loyalty, and cloak his old treasons. That's why he's so set on finding Mistress Perrient. 'A plot, a plot,' says he, 'and Fifth Monarchy men, and what not, from London, and a conspiracy with Mistress Perrient for to kill the king.' A plot, it is sure enough, and Justice Tomkins' devising, for to make him a grandee! I can't abide that Tomkins. A mercer he was, in Norwich, and a kind of a preacher, and now he has made money, they've made him a justice, save the mark. And if he can furbish up a great enough plot, he is assured it will bring him his knighthood at the least. And so he goeth up and down, that maliceful to our young lady--only thanks be, she have escaped the claws of him. The only thing that troubles me is the noises. Leastways, they doesn't trouble me, not to say real trouble; I hope I can keep my wits about me. 'Tis but those idle huzzies that talk of ghosts and noises."

"The noises! What manner of noises?"

"Oh, like folks moving, and clattering, and steps, and rustling like of a gown, and I've heard a sobbing, I'll be sworn, and naught to be seen. If it betokens our young lady be lying dead somewhere, and desires a Christian burial, I do wish as she'd speak a bit plainer, for 'twould be my pride, and my husband's, to see everything done fitting, and pay for it out of our pockets, we would. But I cannot think a dear young lady, and as kind as kind, if she was a bit proud, would ever go to spoil an honest woman's business by making noises in her best chamber after she's dead, and frighting folks away from the Inn. So, as I said, I don't hold 'tis a ghost, not at all; and I should hope I knoo more o' quality's ways than those sluts in the kitchen!"

"This is truly a matter of great interest," said Mr. Rogers. "I studied such matters a little in my youth, and I should be glad, while my horse rests, if you would let me tarry awhile in that chamber."

"Ay, indeed, sir, and thankful shall we be for a learned gentleman to visit it. And 'tis very like--if it should be, I wouldn't have those hussies hear me say it--but if it should be the dear young lady, her may have more to say to you than to the likes of us. And you'll stop the night for sure, sir?"

"Nay, I thank you, I am in haste to return, so soon as my horse may undertake the road."

"Ay, dear sir, but the heath road is so mighty ungain at night, and 'tis dark so early now."

"Nay, I will but tarry till the moon be up, and then if this clear weather holds, I should be at Lynn by midnight. But I will gladly have some food and drink, good hostess."

"Ay, to be sure, sir. And glad am I 'tis baking-day, and a noble pie hot from the oven, and a brace of woodcock roasted, sir, and, maybe, you could fancy a dish of prawns, and a custard? And will a flask of Rhenish serve your taste?"

"Excellently well, good dame, 'tis a very feast you offer me, and I pray you have it set in this chamber you tell me of, and by God's help, I may perchance bring back quietness to your dwelling."