Part 3

"You have no doubt, then, as to the meaning of that secret letter?"

"None whatever."

"And you feel certain that the Duke is coming on us?"

"Yes, quite certain, Michael."

"And where, think you, will he land?"

"Ah! there you ask too much. That is beyond my knowledge. But 'twill be somewhere in the West, beyond a doubt."

"Will you not warn them up in London, then, of such grave danger?"

"Ah, I have thought of that. But where would be the use? The King, and those around him, must know far more of this than I. Besides, rightly to warn, the letter must be shown, and that, as I said before, is fraught with real danger in such times as these."

I saw the truth of that, and was silent for a moment; then a thought struck me.

"What if Monmouth landed here at Lyme?" I said.

My father started at the words.

"God forbid!" said he. "Our little town hath had enough of fighting for all time. Enough! Let us leave warfare for the present, Michael; 'twill come quite soon enough--too soon, methinks. But that reminds me; I have been thinking much about your meeting with that cut-throat rascal on the road a few nights ago; and the more I think of it, the stranger doth it seem. His name, now, I am not sure of it--what was it?--Tubal something."

"Tubal Ammon."

"Ah, yes; and what a name it is! It rings of wickedness and cunning. Still, I greatly doubt if it be his real name; as I also doubt that fine long tale he told you of the Indians."

"Yet what of those strange things he showed me?"

"Ah, they do not greatly count, methinks; for as a sailor he might well have come by them in far-off countries. Perchance his story was half lies, half truth. But what most puzzles me, what in fact I cannot put away, is the man he told you of who died aboard that ship, and spoke of me and Lyme. If that be true, 'tis very strange."

"I scarcely think it was true, sir, but rather a piece of trickery to hold me in the lane. Having found out my name, that is, he made a tale to fit it."

"Perhaps you hit it rightly, Michael--and yet----"

"Well, sir, at any rate I fear it is impossible for us to prove it; for no doubt the rascal is far enough away by now."

Barely had I said those words when from without there came the loud snapping of a tree branch, followed by a heavy thud, and this again by the sound of swiftly-running feet.

Springing to the window, I looked out. As I have said, a lusty chestnut tree grew close above a neighbouring wall. This time its leaves were shaking violently, while a broken branch lay lodged upon the wall top; but there was no one to be seen, and so it was clear that whoever had fallen must have gone down on the far side of the wall, that is, the one on which the tree was rooted.

"What is it?" asked my father in an anxious whisper, leaning over me.

"A broken branch," I answered. "Someone was certainly in yonder tree."

The hand upon my shoulder trembled.

"Ah! say you so? Who could it have been?"

"That I will try to find out."

Climbing through the casement, which was but some ten feet above the ground, I dropped lightly to the lawn. Midway in the garden wall a little door led to a small demesne, of shrubbery and orchard. Full carefully I opened this, and, passing through, stood listening. Not a sound was to be heard, and as the grass had been mown but a day or two before, and still lay in a thick swath, there was little chance of finding tracks.

Going to the chestnut tree I examined it carefully, but found no marks upon the trunk. Beyond the broken branch (a smallish one) there was no sign of him who had disturbed us, save for a hollow in the hay beneath, where he had fallen.

Having made sure of this, I again paused to listen; then, as no sound reached me, I went in and out among the trees and shrubs, probing the latter with my sword and searching every likely place. In this fashion I had covered three parts of the ground, and had wellnigh given up all hope of finding anything, when suddenly there came a rending crash from the far end of the orchard, and by the sound of it not twenty yards from where I was then engaged in exploring the recesses of a laurel bush.

Darting off in the direction of the noise, I soon perceived the cause of it. Someone had gone by sheer force through a lofty hedge of privet, which served as a boundary to the orchard. Where one had thus escaped, another might be counted on to follow; taking a run, I hurled myself fiercely at the hedge, and after much struggling (for it was wondrous thick and strong) tumbled head foremost, out upon the other side.

Here a narrow foothold ended in a high, steep bank, and such was my eagerness that I had much ado to keep from rolling to the bottom; but by clutching at the grass I saved myself, and rising, looked about me. Below me lay a well-grown spinney, and from thence, though no one was in sight, came the sound of swiftly-running feet.

Next moment I was down the bank and speeding round the outskirts of the wood, with flying footsteps right ahead of me. I was reckoned very fleet in those days, but he whom I now pursued flew like the wind; and what with that, and the many bends and juttings of the wood, he beat me: run as I would I could not get a sight of him.

In this mad fashion we must have circled round the wood at least three times, and I was just wondering what the end of such a giddy chase would be, when suddenly the running footsteps of my quarry ceased behind a clump of bushes thirty yards or so ahead. Breathless, I stopped to listen. The hurried pad of feet was followed by a curious scraping noise--then all was still again.

Drawing my sword I crept up to the bushes and took a cautious peep beyond them. But there was no one visible, and, indeed, I had not thought there would be. Still, I was greatly puzzled, for it seemed certain that the fellow could neither have run on nor through the wood without my hearing him. Where, then, was he?

Asking myself that question, I fell to searching carefully with hand and sword among the bushes. But they proved innocent of harbourage; no one was there. In doing this I came beneath a thick-leaved oak tree, and chancing to glance up, was startled by the vision of a pair of shoeless, grey-hosed feet, which dangled from a lofty branch; no more of their owner was visible to me, the rest of him being hidden by the foliage.

So astonished was I by this sight, that at first I could do naught save stare in blank amazement. Then an idea came to me. Walking off as though I had not noticed anything, I covered twenty yards or more, then turned suddenly and faced the tree. Barely had I done this ere a pistol shot rang out, and, as the bullet whistled past my head, I saw the evil, crinkled mask of Tubal Ammon peering at me from the oak leaves.

*CHAPTER III*

*Up a Tree*

Too utterly amazed either for speech or action, I stood stock-still and watched the pistol smoke curl slowly up above the tree; while Tubal Ammon, shooting forth his ugly head until it hung out like a green-framed gargoyle, surveyed me with a hideous leer. Thus for a moment there was a tense silence as we stared at one another.

"Well met!" said I at last.

"And badly aimed," quoth he, grinning as though the thing were but a jest.

"Quite well enough for me," I answered, folding my arms and frowning on him. "Another inch or so and----"

"Aye, that is true," he broke in quickly. "Yet doth an inch make all the difference betwixt a good shot and a bad one. But, verily, the leaves were in my way, nor, to tell the truth, was I very steady on this branch."

"Make no excuses," I replied: "you did your best to kill me; that is quite sufficient."

"Nay, 'twas a chancy accident," said he, bringing his monkey head a little farther out. "Look you, when you walked away just now I took a thoughtless aim--'twas habit--nothing more. Then when you swung round suddenly I started on this perch of mine and fired by accident."

"That is a lie!" I thundered.

"Nay, friend, 'tis gospel truth. If I had wished to kill you should I not have done it while you lurked beneath this tree?"

"No; for you could not see me then, by reason of the leaves."

"Ah, there you err most grievously. I saw you well. You made a lovely mark. I could have shot you easily."

"Enough!" I answered sharply. "We shall gain naught by arguing the matter. Listen, friend Tubal Ammon, this is our second meeting. Three nights ago you would have killed me on the road----"

"Nay, wrong again," he put in eagerly. "'Twas but an empty threat; and greatly did I suffer for it. Yea, verily, I still can feel the kick you gave me. Yet do I not complain," he added with a snivel. "'Twas well deserved."

"It was, indeed," said I; "and a pistol bullet had been more so. But let that pass. Say, what brought you lurking round our house just now?"

"My conscience!"

"Ho! ho!" I mocked. "The conscience of one Tubal Ammon, eh? A groat for it!"

"Nay, 'tis above all price," he whined, shutting his eyes and drawing down the corners of his ugly mouth. "A fortune would not buy it."

"Quite so," said I. "You cannot buy a shadow. Again, what brought you spying on us from the tree?"

"A guilty conscience," he replied; "for did I not reward great goodness with a base ingratitude? Yea, verily. Ever since I treated you thus shamefully black thoughts have been my portion. I could not rest. I felt that I must look upon the house of him whose kindness had been thus wickedly requited. Perchance, thought I, I may behold him also. Therefore I got me into your orchard while it was still dark, and waited. Soon after daylight came I heard the opening of a casement, and looking from my hiding-place behind a bush beheld an old man standing at a window. As fine a gentleman as I have ever seen. Say, friend, was that your father?"

"Yes. Go on," I answered sharply.

"Ah me! Now just to think of it!" quoth Tubal Ammon, drawing in his breath softly. "The very man whose name I heard so oft from him who was so good to me aboard that ship. Well, friend, I watched your father till he left the window, and presently I heard your voice. Then, creeping up beside the wall, I climbed that tree and gazed into the room. I could just see you both; and twice you heard me and looked forth."

"And didst hear what we talked about?" I asked.

"Nay, I caught nothing save a hum of voices," he answered readily.

"And what of the black cat?"

He started at those words; then, with a little shudder, answered:

"Ah, an evil beast as ever was. I found it just above me in the tree, and cast a noose about its neck, meaning to strangle it for fear it should betray me, but it shot off and took my cord along with it. Soon afterwards the faithless branch broke, and--well, you know the rest. Thus ends my true confession, friend--what say you?"

"Why, this," I answered sternly; "the conscience part of it is little to my liking; for 'tis my firm belief you came to spy, and afterwards to rob. If it be not so--if my judgment is at fault, come down and prove your words."

"How so? What mean you, friend?" he asked.

"Come down, and let me take you to my father," I replied.

"Nay, nay!" cracked Tubal Ammon, shaking his head until the leaves around it fairly danced. "I dare not."

"And why not?"

"Because methinks that you would hold me prisoner and deliver me to justice."

"Nay, have no fear of that. You are not worth the trouble. Come, then, and tell my father what you have told me. No harm will come of it. You shall go free. You have my word for that."

"I will consider it," said Tubal Ammon, and with that disappeared behind the leaves.

As I stood listening a gentle click came from the tree.

"What are you doing there?" I shouted.

"Wrestling with my thoughts," came back the high-pitched answer.

"Or reloading--which?" I asked. "If 'tis the latter, save yourself the trouble, for, look you, I am safe from bullets."

With that I slipped behind a tree-trunk, and for wellnigh a minute there was silence. Then out popped Ammon's shaven head again.

"'Twould seem your faith in me is small," he sang.

"Truly it is not very great," I answered. "Why have you reloaded?"

"Because necessity is best served by readiness, good friend."

"You are not coming down, then?"

"Nay, I have considered it most carefully. I am not coming down."

"What, then?"

"Well, friend, it doth appear to me that we are quits. You have no pistol, and therefore cannot come against me; nor can you even leave that tree with safety. By the same token I am swordless, and therefore 'twould be a matter of exceeding risk for me to descend; for if I fired and missed, what then? Thus, you are there, and I am here."

"Yes, and you would kill me if you could for all your priceless conscience."

"Nay, put it not thus harshly, friend. Say, rather, that I must be free at all cost."

"Which goes to prove a guilty conscience."

"No, a ready wit. But let us not waste words. _Verbum sat sapienti_. Truly my Latin needs a little furbishing; still, 'twill serve. Look you, friend, I offer thee a clean, straight bargain. Go thy way and let me go mine."

"The time has gone for bargaining," I answered sternly. "I will stay here till help arrives. 'Twill not be long, I fancy."

On hearing that his thin lips parted in a grin which showed two rows of firm-set teeth and made his face a picture of maliciousness.

"Ah, say you so?" he hissed. "Then I am ready. _In omnia paratus_. And yet again, _eventus stultorum magister_."

With that he disappeared from view, the branches shook, and in a flash I knew that he was bent on swift pursuit and murder. But scarcely had he moved when a cry rang out behind me, and turning round, I saw my father speeding round the wood-end, twenty yards off, with a pistol in his hand.

"Have a care! Come not too close!" I shouted, pointing to the tree. "He is up there, with a pistol!"

"Who?"

"The man we want."

"He is fairly caught, then," quoth my father grimly, as he stopped and cocked his pistol.

"Be not too sure of that," I answered.

Even as I spoke, there came a great commotion from the tree, as of one struggling desperately; and then a frantic, gurgling cry broke out:

"Help! caught by neck! Strangling. Help!"

"'Twould seem as though swift justice had him," said my father. "Come, let us see," he added, moving forward.

"Nay, have a care," said I. "I trust him not. He is as crafty as Old Nick. To go beneath the tree might mean a well-aimed bullet."

"Nathless, we cannot see the villain hang. What's to be done? Is he high up, think you?"

"Yes, near the top; or so at least he was."

"Ah, then, I have it. We must get a ladder. There is that long one hanging on the garden wall. The very thing. Come, Michael, let us fetch it. Hark! he is surely strangling," he added, as the cries grew still more guttural and frantic. "Come, quickly!"

So off we sped, and having got the ladder, and a brace of loaded pistols, returned full quickly to the spot. But there were no cries now; leaves lay thick beneath the oak tree, but its erstwhile shaking branches were quite still, and not a sound was to be heard.

"Belike enough the miserable wretch is dead by now," remarked my father, as we laid the ladder down and listened for a while. And with that he would have gone straight forward to the tree; but my knowledge of the "miserable wretch's" ways enjoined greater caution.

"Stay! Let us try this first," I said.

Drawing a pistol from my belt, I fired into the tree and listened carefully; but there was neither sound nor movement, save where the bullet tore its way.

"Dead, sure enough!" exclaimed my father.

"Well, we will prove it now," said I, though far from certain of the risk we ran in doing so.

Soon we had the ladder reared against a lofty branch: then, taking a pistol in my hand, I climbed up cautiously into the tree.

At first I could see little, by reason of the thickness of the foliage; but as I neared the top 'twas quickly evident that Tubal Ammon was not there. Some broken twigs betrayed the place where he had sat; but that was all the sign there was of him.

"Well!" cried my father from below. "What see you, Michael? Is he there?"

"No, sir; he is not here," I answered. "'Tis as I thought--we have been fooled; our bird has flown."

"Well, well; no matter," said my father, with, methought, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "'Twere better so than that he should be hanging."

"Be none so sure of that," I murmured to myself, descending quickly to the ground. And there we stood and faced each other, like the beaten men we were.

"Dost know who he was?" enquired my father with a searching look.

"Yes, full well," I answered.

"Ah! and who then was he?"

"Tubal Ammon!"

My father started back.

"What!" he cried, "the man who held thee on the road three nights ago?"

"The very same, sir," I replied.

"Then, indeed, it hath an ugly look. What, think you, brought him prowling round our place?"

"The hope of thieving, sir, I fancy."

"Ah! so you think he is then but a common thief?" exclaimed the old man hopefully.

"Nay, far from common," I replied; "for, verily, he spouted Latin by the yard."

"Latin!" echoed my father, with a start. "A footpad quoting Latin? That makes the thing more ugly still. I like it not. Michael," he added, laying a hand upon my arm, and lowering his voice, as though afraid of listeners, "think you that he heard or saw what passed betwixt us?"

"Nay, I scarcely think so; in fact, I asked him and he said he did not--though, verily, the word of such a prick-eared knave is little to be valued. But even if he did both see and hear, methinks he would make little of it."

"Well, well; 'tis to be hoped your way of looking at it is the right one. Michael" (he dropped his voice into a whisper and glanced quickly round about him), "Michael, what if he were a creature of that rascal Ferguson?"

"Nay, sir," I laughed, though feeling far from easy; "it seems to me you set too great a store upon the knave. He is a thief, and nothing else: perchance one who hath seen better days--and, therefore, the worst kind of thief. But 'tis my firm belief that he has earned a handsome lesson, and that he will not trouble us again."

My father stroked his chin and gravely shook his head.

"I like it not," he murmured; "and certainly the window shall be watched for many nights to come." He cast a far-off look towards the hills. "Michael, it is as though I saw great trouble brooding over us. If that comes, we two will stand together firmly side by side to meet it. Is that not so, my son?"

"Ah, that we will, indeed!" I answered, grasping his outstretched hand.

Just then the breakfast bell clanged forth, and taking up the ladder, we went home in broody silence.

*CHAPTER IV*

*Three Ships*

Youth has two suns to every cloud: when one is hid the other shines. Therefore, notwithstanding all the turmoil of the early morning and the knowledge that our house concealed a secret which could hang us both, I soon, for the time at any rate, clean forgot these matters. And so, when about ten o'clock I buckled on that fine new sword and stepped (nay, swaggered were a truer word for it) down townwards, there might have been no forgeries, no Ferguson the Plotter, no Tubal Ammon, and no Black Box in existence.

For one thing, 'twas as fine a day as any man could wish to see. A fresh breeze stirred the leaves; the birds were singing gaily; while through the trees came glimpses of our glorious bay, flashing like diamonds in the sunlight. Thus I was as happy as a king (nay, happier than most kings!), and as I strode along, with hand on sword-hilt, I gave a cheery nod to old acquaintances; frowned sternly on ill-mannered boys; and cast gay smiles at pretty girls who, ever and anon, peeped out from upper windows.

Enough, it was a fine bright morning, and I was in fine feather, with as little thought of coming evil as the larks which soared above my head. Yet I had scarce set foot inside the town before 'twas clear that some strange business was afoot. For the women-folk stood gossiping excitedly at doors, while every man I came across seemed to be hurrying seaward.

"What is the news?" I asked of one who sped towards me.

"News!" he answered, turning his head upon his shoulder as he ran. "Three ships, black ships!"

"Well, what of that?" I shouted; but, heeding not, he fled upon his way.

Perceiving that there was little to be gained by questioning, I joined the merry rout which swarmed towards the sea-front. And there, sure enough, beating to windward in that part of the bay we call the Cod, were three strange foreign-looking vessels--one, by the rig of her, a frigate, though she showed no guns; the other two small merchantmen. And now I understood the cause of all this great excitement; for neither of the three ships flew a colour, and somehow, in that first swift glance, I felt they boded ill for little Lyme.

However, there was small room for thought just then. You know the Cobb, that world-famed mole of ours, which curves out seaward like a mighty shepherd's crook, and serves us for a harbour, quay, and everything? Well, everyone was making for that point of vantage, and so you may be sure I lost no time in following.

The far end of the Cobb (that is, the sea end) was already thickly covered with an excited, wondering crowd, and, shouldering my way into the front line, I soon learned much. How that these three mysterious craft had first been seen at daybreak beating in slowly against a northerly wind. How, later on, a ten-oared boat had put off from the largest vessel, with three men seated in her stern, and made for Seatown, a little creek some five miles farther down the coast; and, having landed there her passengers, had presently returned to the ship bearing but one of them. And, moreover, in conclusion, how an hour before (that is, before I reached the Cobb) Master Thomas Tye, surveyor of the port of Lyme, and some of his men, had rowed out to the ships themselves for information, gone aboard the frigate, and had not since been seen.

Most of this I learned from our deputy searcher of customs, Master Samuel Dassell, who, armed with his powerful telescope, stood close to me, and kept an eye on everything.

Again, some thought the vessels Dutch, some French (I remember Dassell stood quite firm for Dutch); some dubbed them pirates, others privateersmen: but one and all agreed 'twas passing strange they flew no colours, and that the frigate veiled her guns; and therefore that the whole thing had an ugly look.

You may be sure I did not hear all this without thinking of the amazing things which I had seen, read, and heard that very morning at The Havering. Indeed, the more I stared at the three black invaders of our bay, the more my thoughts flew inland to that which lay hid behind the secret panel in my father's study, until at length the ships and box of ebony seemed joined in one black plot.

But, as our old sergeant used to put it when he caught us loose--let us have no mooning. Nor was there much chance for it that morning; for just as I was squinting at the ships through Dassell's spyglass, the crowd behind us swayed about, and a fisherman came elbowing and panting through it.

"Well, and what now, Joe Rockett?" asked Dassell, turning on him sharply. "Dost bring us news from Seatown, then?"

"News?" gasped the fellow, wiping the sweat from his forehead, for 'twas mighty hot. "News? Aye, that I do, sir. Cargoes of it!"

"Then let us have it quick," says Dassell. "What is it?"

"Why," replied the fellow, pointing to the ships, "you see them vessels, sir?"

"See 'em!" says Dassell, with a scornful laugh. "Good Lord, yes! Haven't we been staring at 'em for at least three hours?"

"Well," says the man, "just after daybreak a ten-oared boat put off from yonder frigate and came ashore at Seatown creek."