Part 21

"And you dream, by these letters, you can prove me traitor, eh?" he asked mockingly.

"Certainly not, my lord, if your lordship can prove your innocence," was the cool answer.

There was silence. The two men eyed one another defiantly. Then Jeffreys laid down the letters, and leaned across the table.

"You are a fool, sir," he said sharply, "an you think to reap any advantage from these letters. I tell you the plain truth. I have intrigued with Monmouth, but solely that by gaining his confidence, I might prove of greater assistance to his Majesty."

"Indeed, my lord, I never held so low an opinion of you as to suppose you would confine your treachery to one party only," answered Captain Protheroe insolently. But his heart beat quickly, for he liked not the suggestion in the judge's words.

"Have a care, sir," shouted Jeffreys angrily. "Recollect you are in my power."

"With reservations, my lord. For, if I join not my friends within two hours, the originals of these letters will, before to-morrow night, be in the hands of one likely to take a deeper interest in the matter than your lordship seems to do."

"Devil damn you, fellow! Have I not told you wherefore these letters were writ?"

"You have. For your lordship's sake I trust others may place more credence in your story than I do myself."

"What! Do you dream his Majesty will believe there is one word of truth in your story if I deny it? Your letters are powerless to destroy me. Heavens, man, do you suppose his Majesty would disgrace me on such evidence? I tell you, sir, I am as necessary to him as his crown."

"My lord, you yourself undoubtedly are the best judge as to what extent his Majesty finds your services a necessity. But 'tis said he is easily suspicious, and 'twill not be the first time such accusations have been brought."

Jeffreys winced at the suggestion.

Captain Protheroe continued quietly:

"But 'tis not to his Majesty the papers would be delivered. He is the head of the kingdom, but by no means the only power therein. It might be, my lord, that the accusation once brought, he would be powerless to save you."

"What do you mean?" snarled the judge.

"I think, my lord, 'twas his late Majesty who remarked that your lordship was not 'parliament-proof.'"

Jeffreys started back and glanced uneasily at the speaker.

"Parliament," continued the officer slowly, "is indeed almost entirely Tory, but yet, as your lordship has good reason to know, it hath no great love for your person. There may not be many honest men among the members, but 'tis certain there are many cowards, and cowards will not brook traitors. If this accusation be brought forward it will not be lightly set aside, And it should not be necessary for me to remind your lordship that you have many enemies in the House."

Jeffreys sat silent, gnawing his nails, and gazing moodily on the ground.

After a pause Captain Protheroe continued with rising courage.

"Now, my lord, should these letters fall into the hands of the Duke of Rochester for example."

Jeffreys started to his feet with a sudden wild cry.

"Your price, man, your price?" he shouted fiercely. Then he sank down again and leaned his head wearily upon his hand.

Captain Protheroe's eyes flashed with triumph.

"My price!" he cried eagerly. "My lord, I might ask much, but I refrain. All I demand is a free pardon for four rebels, Mistress Barbara Winslow, Sir Rupert Winslow, Sir Ralph Trevellyan, and myself. That is my price, and no dear one for such evidence as this."

"Pardons! Pardons!" cried Jeffreys testily; "what have I to do with pardons? 'Tis his Majesty alone who can grant such."

"Truly, my lord," answered the officer politely; "yet knowing the great confidence his Majesty places in your lordship, I venture to believe you will find no great difficulty in procuring what I demand. In the meantime I will content myself with a safe pass to Holland for myself and my companions."

A sudden light gleamed in the judge's eyes. Drawing towards him ink and paper he wrote the necessary orders, signed and sealed them and laid them on the table beside him.

"That will serve your purpose, sir," he said quietly. "My secretary will now accompany you to fetch the originals of the letters; on your return with them this passport shall be delivered to you."

Captain Protheroe laughed quickly.

Then he turned to Jeffreys with an air of deep reproach.

"Alas! my lord," he cried, "you do indeed underrate my opinion of your ability; moreover, I fear, you take me for a fool. No, no, my lord; that plan likes me not."

Judge Jeffreys started up with an oath, and made a movement to tear the paper in pieces. Captain Protheroe stopped him sharply.

"Hearken, my lord," he said sternly, "you will hand that pass to me now, you will take no steps to interfere with our departure, and you will at once apply yourself to obtain the pardons I demand. If money be required to win them I doubt not your lordship has sufficient to meet all expenses. In the meantime I and my friends will ride in safety to the coast, stopping a night or so at Durford Manor house----"

"Durford," cried Jeffreys sharply, "what would you at Durford?"

"Er--a small matter of an old gold brocade, I believe," answered Captain Protheroe, with a little smile of reminiscence. "From there we will take ship and sail for Holland. On the day your lordship procures our pardons, the letters you require shall be delivered into your hands."

"And if I refuse?"

"Refuse! why, then, as I have already explained, the letters have another destination. His Majesty, I believe, has now left Winchester, but the Duke----"

"I should at least soon see you hanged," interrupted Jeffreys furiously.

"I believe you, my lord," answered the captain drily; "but I do not anticipate I should have long to wait before your lordship followed me."

There was a pause. Then Jeffreys continued testily.

"What assurance have I these letters will be delivered to me?"

"My word."

"Pah! What faith put you in my word that you should have your pass?"

"None whatever! but the parallel is hardly just. I am a man of honour. That is one of the few titles to which your lordship has never aspired." Then he continued sharply, "Come, my lord, there is no time to lose; I beg you to come to a decision. I will not insult your intellect by repeating the facts of the case. Briefly, the matter runs thus: Whose head do you count of greatest value, mine or your lordship's?"

There was a full minute's silence. Then without a word Jeffreys picked up the passport and handed it to the officer.

"Ah, my lord! I thought I should not be mistaken in your answer," said the captain coolly. "I need not impress upon you the advisability of doing all in your power to facilitate our safe journey. Our interests will doubtless be dear to you as--as your own neck. My lord, I bid you good-evening."

The judge made no answer. He leaned wearily back in his chair, staring moodily before him. Behind him stood the secretary, silent, immovable, but with an expression of deepest relief upon his face. Captain Protheroe turned on his heel, and strode across the room, but scarcely had he reached the door when it was opened suddenly from without, and he found himself face to face with Colonel Kirke.

Both men gave a sharp exclamation of astonishment and sprang back. Then the colonel with a sudden quick movement stepped into the room, shut the door, and set his back against it.

For a moment all was still, the two stared at each other in dead silence, measuring glances of hatred and contempt. Then Jeffreys rose from his chair and stepped quickly forward.

"What do you want, colonel?" he asked hoarsely.

Kirke turned abruptly to the judge.

"What is this man doing here, my lord?" he demanded sharply.

Jeffreys moved nervously.

"Captain Protheroe is about to start upon a mission to Holland, at my direction," he answered nervously.

"But, my lord, have you forgot? this fellow is an escaped rebel, committed for treason."

"I know, colonel. But he is pardoned."

"Pardoned! By whom? For what reason?"

"In return for information received," answered Jeffreys quickly.

"Hell-fire! That he is not!" shouted the colonel fiercely. "I know you, Jeffreys, you've made your money out of him, and now you would let him go. But, by Heaven! an you do, I'll noise it abroad till all London hear on't. And you know, none better, his Majesty's commands concerning these rebels, not one is to escape. Pardoned! Now, by the light of the Prophet's beard, the man is a traitor and shall hang e'en if I had to do it with my own hands. Pardoned! Pah! The man shall hang as sure as my name is Percy Kirke."

He ceased, and there was another silence. Captain Protheroe loosened in its sheath the sword he earned and glanced rapidly round the room. He turned to the chief justice, but no further help showed there. Jeffreys had sunk back in his chair, and looked the picture of helpless dismay. The man was a mass of nerves, sensitive as a girl; he trembled under Colonel Kirke's fierce attack, and had no words with which to defend himself.

"Do you understand me, Jeffreys?" the colonel again shouted. "By Heaven, I'll publish the facts."

"My lord," interposed Captain Protheroe quietly, "'tis but a night's ride to Winchester."

Jeffreys looked from one to the other hopelessly calculating his chances with a desperate cunning.

"Tut, colonel," he began nervously; "what is the man to you? Let him----"

He was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door, and the entrance of an orderly.

"A messenger from London, my lord," he said.

He marched across to the chief justice, and handed him a packet, then saluting, turned and left the room.

Partly with the idea of gaining time, partly with a faint hope of there finding a way out of his difficulty, Jeffreys broke open the packet and began to read. Colonel Kirke stood silent, watching him angrily, but Captain Protheroe glanced hurriedly up and down the room, puzzling his wits to devise some method of escape.

Suddenly the chief justice started to his feet and turned to the colonel. There was a look of excitement on his face, and triumph in his eyes.

"Colonel Kirke," he exclaimed harshly, "you are recalled to London!"

With clenched hands and blazing eyes Kirke turned on Jeffreys.

"Recalled! I! What in the devil's name do you mean?"

"Here are your orders. The regiment will proceed there in the course of a week. You are to set out immediately."

Kirke stared at the paper in amazement; then he threw it to the ground and stamped on it in a sudden fury. "Recalled! Disgraced! Bah! Have you had a hand in this, Jeffreys? Recalled! Now, by----" He roared out a torrent of oaths.

Presently he grew calmer, picked up the paper, read it once more, and locked moodily at the chief justice.

"I must set out at once," he muttered. "But look you, Jeffreys, a word of warning; this is but a passing affair, the work o' that meddlesome Sunderland, I'll be bound. I shall soon return, so be careful what you do. I've set my heart on this matter"--pointing to the captain. "When I return, an that fellow be not handed over to me for court-martial, then, by all the devils in heaven and hell, I'll be revenged. You know me, Jeffreys, and you know what I can do. Take warning."

He swung to the door, then pausing, turned to Captain Protheroe, and eyed him with a scornful glance.

"A narrow shave for you," he said; "but I'll hope to see you hanged yet, my fine fellow."

Captain Protheroe smiled scornfully.

"I'm afraid, colonel," he answered drily, "unless our executions take place simultaneously on the same spot, we can't both realise our mutual hope."

With an oath Colonel Kirke swung out of the room, and the door was shut. Then Captain Protheroe turned to Jeffreys. The judge's face was a study of indecision. He stared moodily at the letters before him, he glanced nervously at the door through which the colonel had retired. He was a man standing betwixt two abysses, doubting over which to risk a jump. At last he raised his head, and faced the captain defiantly.

"Captain Protheroe," he said, "I must withdraw your passport and place you under arrest."

Captain Protheroe stared at the judge in dismay. The secretary took a rapid step forward, and stooped over his master's chair.

"My lord," he whispered, "think what you do. These letters----"

"I know! I know!" cried Jeffreys testily; "but I also know Kirke. 'Tis one or the other, and Kirke is not a man to deny."

Again the secretary stooped to argue, but Jeffreys thrust him aside.

"No, no, Jewars, I tell you 'tis the safer way. This is the only evidence"--tapping the letters--"and it may be disproved."

Then, with a sudden inspiration Captain Protheroe stepped forward, and leaning over the table, fixed his eyes on Jeffreys.

"The only evidence, my lord?" he asked quietly. "Tell me, has your lordship ever heard of a certain Master Hugh Peters, of Lime?"

"Peters!" gasped the secretary, with a sudden start of horror.

"Aye," answered the officer slowly. "A worthy man who can give much valuable information concerning the manner of Ferguson's escape, about which there has been so great a pother in London. And, my lord, he is not the only man who knows the secret."

With a sudden cry the secretary caught the chief justice's arm; his face was livid, he trembled from head to foot.

"My lord," he cried, "there is no help for it, this man must go. There is no safety else. He knows--Heavens! what does he not know? My lord, Colonel Kirke may be dangerous, but he is disgraced, and he hath but little evidence, and 'tis but a matter of bribery after all. But this man--oh, my lord! let him go, out of the country with him, and Heaven grant we may never see him more."

Jeffreys turned and stared at the terrified man, and slowly the fear passed into his own heart. Fiercely he clutched the arms of his chair, his eyes rolled, he moved his head from side to side, as one hounded to death, and seeing no escape. Then with a loud cry of rage and despair, he sprang to his feet, and pointed wildly to the door.

"Go!" he cried. "Go! You are free! But have a care. For an you come within my power again, by God! you shall pay for this. You shall die a thousand times; at the cart-tail, at the post, at the gallows, at the stake. You shall feel a thousand torments, till hell itself shall show more merciful. I will----"

"Silence!" shouted the captain sternly. "Peace, fool, I will hear no more o' such vapourings. I go now, but first, mark you this, my Lord Jeffreys, see to it you carry out our contract to the smallest detail, for should harm befall me and mine thro' your doing, I vow to heaven, my lord, I will not hang alone. So, an you value your own neck, leave us in peace."

For one moment Jeffreys stood gasping open-mouthed, gazing at the speaker in a fury of impotent rage, then he suddenly collapsed and sinking into his chair, he fell forward across the table and burst into bitter tears.

But Captain Protheroe waited no longer, but tucking the passport into his breast, proceeded calmly to the street. Nor did he pause until he had passed out of the north gate and left the town behind him.

"Phew!" he muttered, wiping his forehead, "I've played high in my time, but never for such stakes as these. Heaven help me! what a hand I held, and God forgive me, but how I played it!"

*CHAPTER XXII*

Captain Protheroe walked on rapidly across the dark field-path which led to the little hamlet of Mallet. It was already late, and he did not wish to keep his friends in suspense longer than was needful.

Suddenly he paused, as he became aware of a confused clamour of sounds proceeding from the direction in which, he was going, but only for a moment, then with a sudden misgiving he commenced to run rapidly forward through the darkness.

The cottage where the fugitives were to await him lay on the outskirts of the hamlet, separated from the cluster of other cottages by some fields, and the sounds, now becoming more distinct, came from that direction.

A confused murmur of voices met his ears, punctuated by a succession of heavy blows of musket-butts (so he rightly guessed) upon the cottage door; then followed the crash of a door falling, more shouting, above which he could distinguish a voice raised loud in authority, and then the clash of two encountering swords.

A moment later he reached the gateway of the croft within which the cottage stood.

There he found a group of peasants, held in check, in spite of much shouting and menacing gestures, by a small body of mounted troopers. Nearer the cottage were some unmounted men, those evidently who had been responsible for the attack upon the door, one or two of whom carried lanterns, and by the combined light this afforded, and that which streamed from the dismantled doorway, there was revealed to Captain Protheroe the incident which formed the central feature of the picture.

At the doorway of the cottage two men were fighting. The swordsman with his back to the doorway was Sir Ralph. With white set face, and his breath coming in quick gasps, 'twas clear he was sore pressed, and wellnigh spent.

His opponent, who was slowly but surely driving him to retreat into the passage-way, was a small, dapper little man, in the uniform of an officer of the King's troops. He fought with a cool precision, and ever and anon as the fight proceeded, he exclaimed admiringly:

"Well thrust, sir, well indeed. Keep back, men, let be. 'Tis a fair fight."

For a few moments Captain Protheroe stood in amazement, watching this extraordinary scene, then suddenly realising that unless he quickly intervened Ralph must be overcome, he thrust his way past the startled troopers, and ere they could prevent him, seized the little officer round the middle and lifted him aside.

The latter, with an exclamation of anger, wrenched himself free, and turned upon the intruder.

"And by what right, sir----" he began furiously; but ere he could get further in his speech his hand was seized in a hearty grasp, and Captain Protheroe broke out eagerly:

"Harrington! Will! You! By all the powers, but luck is with us wherever we go. This is splendid."

"Miles Protheroe!" cried the little man in delight, but restraining himself suddenly, he stared hard at the captain. "What are you doing here, Protheroe?" he asked sharply. "D---- me, I had forgot, you are a rebel, too."

But the other's light laugh quickly reassured him.

"No more a rebel than are these, my friends, here," he cried cheerily. "Look"--and he handed his passport to Harrington--"that is all right, isn't it? By Jove! what a mercy I arrived in time; you were about to make a pretty mess of things, Will."

"Plague take that meddlesome pedlar, who brought us out with such a cock-and-bull story as this," cried the little officer indignantly. "Here have I been forced to put your friends--and a lady, too--to most distressing inconvenience and--er--danger, and all to no purpose. Alas! I doubt she will never forgive me. Plague on the fellow! where is he?"

But the pedlar, who had followed them to the cottage, and having given information had then served as guide to the patrol, was not to be found. He was quick to appreciate that the game again had gone against and had vanished into the night.

"But what were you after when I arrived, Will?" asked Captain Protheroe with a laugh.

"This gentleman thought fit to hold the doorway, against me. I--I was---er--about to remove him."

Then he turned politely to Ralph, who had sunk wearily into a seat within the doorway, whence he smiled faintly up at Barbara as she came anxiously from an adjoining room to his side, to ascertain whether he had received any hurt.

"I must apologise, sir," he said with grave politeness, "for so rudely forcing myself upon your company. 'Twas a misconception, which I trust you will pardon. But I fear I can never hope the lady will be equally forgiving."

Barbara looked up with a bright smile.

"Indeed, sir," she said softly, "we should rather be grateful to you, for the generous manner in which you conducted the attack. We owe you thanks for your courtesy in staying your men from firing upon the house when you discovered I was here, and for your chivalry in insisting upon fighting Sir Ralph single-handed."

The little man flushed with pleasure.

"Faith! madame," he cried gallantly; "'twas nothing. However hard pressed a man may be, nothing would excuse discourtesy to a lady. And for the rest, 'twas a most enjoyable fight whose interruption is condoned only by the acquaintance thus created."

Captain Protheroe laughed lightly.

"Zounds! Will, what would the colonel say to your new methods of rebel hunting, eh? He is ever the same, Mistress Barbara; he rides the country with a cumbersome escort, yet doth all the work himself."

Captain Harrington again turned to his recent adversary, who still leaned back, with half-closed eyes.

"I trust, sir," he said anxiously, "I have not been so excessively clumsy as to wound you in our affray. 'Tis a thing I never do, unless mortally."

Ralph smiled faintly.

"Rest assured, sir, your hand is still sure."

"Sir Ralph Trevellyan is but recovering from a fever," interposed Barbara gently; "the encounter hath exhausted him."

"I am well enough, Barbara," exclaimed Ralph, struggling to his feet.

"Indeed, you are not," she answered firmly. "Sit still while I fetch some water."

But now Captain Harrington was all contrition. He flew for water, he sent his men for wine. He hovered over Barbara with most assiduous attentions, while she ministered to her exhausted companion.

"What may I do now?" implored the little officer, when Barbara had finished her task; "what may I do to further atone for my mistake? Where are you bound for now, eh?"

"We are on our road to Durford; it lies north of Taunton, you know; but we can hardly set out to-night. Is there any place hereabouts fit to spend the night in?" asked Captain Protheroe doubtfully.

"My quarters are but five minutes' distance from here," cried Captain Harrington eagerly; "if I dared hope to be so greatly honoured."

"Oh, no," cried Barbara quickly; "indeed, we cannot take your rooms."

"Alack! madame, I feared 'twas too great an honour to hope for," sighed the little man mournfully. "After my error, too. And yet, if it might have been----"

"Nay, sir," interposed Barbara, somewhat puzzled how to meet such unexpected humility. "If you will indeed be so generous----"

"It will be the best thing we can do," interposed Captain Protheroe. "And to-morrow, perchance, you can lend us mounts as far as Durford."

"Willingly, willingly," was the eager reply.

"Then let us be off. Where is Nannie?"

"I'm here, Master Miles," answered the old lady, calmly entering from the adjoining room where she had been soothing the terror of the bed-ridden owner of the cottage.

"Ah! that's well. We must be moving. Set the old fellow's mind at ease and come along. You shall come back to him to-morrow, an you choose."

All was quiet when they came out of the cottage.

"Straight along that path, Miles!" cried Captain Harrington eagerly, pointing out the direction; "you can't miss the way. I will escort the lady."

"Not so," answered Captain Protheroe resolutely, putting Barbara's cloak about her; "I will escort Mistress Barbara. You can best lead the way."

Captain Harrington glanced for a moment at the speaker, then with a deep sigh, and a mournful shake of the head, he shrugged his shoulders, and taking Ralph's arm, turned along the path towards the village.

"Alack!" he muttered to himself, "Alack! The early bird!"

"Mistress Barbara," pleaded Captain Protheroe, as they followed the others along the narrow way, "Mistress Barbara, you have not said one word to me since I arrived."