Part 6

"Nay, not so quick, friend Ferguson," quoth Ammon. "Not till the price is paid, that is. Mayst see them if you will, but nothing more. Look you, here they are!"

I heard him smooth the parchments out; then caught the flicker of a lantern as he held it up for Ferguson to see them.

"What? there are three of them!" exclaimed the chaplain. "Well, that boots not. The one I want is there--the one you hold in front. Now, place them here betwixt us, underneath the box, while I count out thy most extortionate reward."

He gave a cracking laugh, of which the other took no heed; then came the clink of slowly-counted gold, the counting of a usurer who weighed each piece and loathed to part therefrom. "Thou art a hard, tight-fisted fellow, Tubal Ammon," snarled Ferguson when all was ready. "Here, then, is thy hard-wrung price, and may the Lord requite thee for the taking of it from a man so poor as me!"

Here Tubal Ammon laughed (or barked, were a truer name for it) and said:

"'Tis well; now we are quits, methinks, for each hath what he sorely wanted. As for your poverty, most worthy chaplain, I would right gladly barter it for mine. Yea, friend, I always thought you rich, yet was not sure of it; and now that it is clearly proven--now I learn that thou art poor! Enough; we never know the truth. _Docendo discimus_. Pardon such faulty Latin. But, what say you, shall we now let go a psalm upon the night? Truly, our voices are a trifle cracked, but yet methinks 'twould make a fine duetto. Hark you! Like this--join in!"

He raised a rasping, high-pitched voice, and sang a note or two.

"Stop, fool!" hissed Ferguson. "Wouldst bring danger on us? We know not who may be in earshot of such owlish screeching! Art clean daft?"

"Nay, only wondrous happy," answered Ammon.

"Yes, and why?" growled Ferguson. "Because, like Shylock, thou hast claimed thy pound of flesh?"

"Yea, verily, and got it; which is much more to the point."

"Yes, got it," quoth the chaplain bitterly. "Wrung it from me like the clutching Jew you are. Let that suffice, and add not gibe to injury."

"Ah, no! was ever miser yet who could bear parting with his gold, no matter how it had been earned?" sighed Ammon mockingly.

"The devil take thee!"

"Nay, I am his already--thanks to thee, most godly chaplain."

"Provoke me not too far," hissed Ferguson. "I am not to be trifled with. You know me well, friend Ammon."

"Yes, verily, I know you far too well."

"Then keep your rasping tongue still. There was more inside the box than I had bargained for; and I would scan these papers carefully in peace."

"And by the same token, sir," mocked Ammon, "I would fain count my money, lest, haply, thou hast overpaid me. Thus are we quits again."

Here, then, I had the real Tubal Ammon, so different from the sly, tale-telling wretch whom I had met beside the road; and here also was the real Ferguson. But of him I had already known so much that his present character seemed quite in keeping with my knowledge of him.

And now the crackling of parchment and chink of gold was all that reached my ears.

I lay there listening for a while, and then an overmastering desire came over me to look upon these workers of iniquity. Next moment I was moving like a serpent up the bank, holding my breath and fearful lest the very thumping of my heart might give the scoundrels warning and undo me.

At last I gained the ridge, and, having paused a moment, took a cautious peep beneath a little bush. And there I saw a sight indeed. 'Twas worth the risk. The rays of a lantern, set within a cleft, fell on the wicked, red-blotched face of Ferguson, as he sat there, with knees drawn up wellnigh to his chin, poring over his ill-gotten gain; it fell, too, on the evil, cunning face of Tubal Ammon, as, crouching low, he counted up his money with a greedy care. And, midway between them lay the rifled box. Never have I seen a sight more diabolical, and 'tis, perhaps, small wonder that the thought came rushing to my mind: Two Satans, with the light of Hades on them!

From my hiding-place behind the bracken I stared at them like one bewitched, till Ammon, having dropped the last gold-piece into a leathern pouch, glanced up at his companion. Then, fearing lest he might arise, I ducked my head and drew back down the bank a foot or two.

"Right to a single piece," quoth Tubal, jingling the pouch.

"I knew that well enough," growled Ferguson. "Have you a piece of cord wherewith to fasten up the box?"

"Yes, by my life, here is the very thing," replied the other. "Truly my usefulness exceeds all reckoning."

The chaplain murmured something which I did not catch, then, as it seemed to me, he folded up the papers, placed them in the box, and having tied the cord around it, said:

"And now to further business, friend."

"With all my heart; name it, I pray you," answered Tubal Ammon.

"These Fanes, then; you have seen them both?"

"Yes, more than once. Moreover, the coxcomb of a son I have twice come near killing."

"Ah, and what kind of man is he?"

"A great big lusty fellow, over six feet high. I owe him much, and will repay it. Yea, verily, his days are numbered."

"See thou to that. 'Tis no concern of mine. I have no quarrel with the son. But the old man, the father, Ammon" (here he lowered his voice into an ugly whisper), "he who robbed me--str-r-uck me down--I would have vengeance on that man. Yea, I would have him swept from off the earth. Canst do it?"

"Yes, easily."

"How, then? By pistol, bullet, or by knife?"

"Neither. I have a softer way than those, though no less sure."

"What's that?"

"Why, look you," answered Ammon, after fumbling in his coat, "see here--this tiny bow and arrows; things for boys to play with, say you? And yet a prick from one of them would kill the strongest man within an hour. Naught could save him, for they are dipped in deadliest poison."

"No, no! away with them! away with them!" cried Ferguson. "I could not think of it. 'Twere cruel, heathenish, nay, worse, 'twere rankly wicked!"

"Then, verily, our sense of wickedness is far from tallying, friend," sneered Ammon. "Killing is killing, as it seems to me, and the way of doing it makes little difference."

"Yes, but poison, friend, poison, I say, were cruel, heathenish; any way but that!"

"Well, we will leave the way, then. You want this man, this Gilbert Fane--well, let us say, removing. Is that so?"

"Yes; for not only do I hate him, but I also fear him somewhat."

"And you would have me do it for you?"

"Yes."

"Then I will do it--at a price."

"Price!" snapped Ferguson. "Oh, thou grasping, greedy fellow. Doth not the hundred guineas cover this small extra service also?"

"Nay, by life it doth not," answered Ammon slowly. "One bargain doth not drive a second."

"Well, well," groaned Ferguson. "What is your price, then? Name it."

"Ten guineas."

"What!" almost shrieked the chaplain. "Ten guineas just to kill a man?"

"Yes, and a low price too. I run great risk in doing it."

"Oh, thou extortioner! thou greedy leech! But, come, 'tis surely but a jest. Say five and I am with thee."

"Ten guineas."

"Eight."

"Ten."

"No, no! I will not pay a sum so wicked."

"Then Gilbert Fane lives on for all I care, and with him, as you just now showed, your fear and hatred of the man."

"O Lord!" sighed Ferguson, "when will this cruel bleeding of me cease? Right well hast thou been named, thou godless, grasping Jew; for was not Tubal one of Shylock's friends? But, say, if I agree with thee, when wilt thou wipe this fellow off the earth? The Duke rides forth from Lyme within a day or two, and I would be assured that Gilbert Fane is dead before I leave. What, then?"

"He shall be dead before this time to-morrow," answered Tubal Ammon firmly.

"But what proof shall I have that it is so?"

"Good proof, sure proof, a proof there can be no gainsaying."

"Name it, then."

"The key that fits that box," replied the other slowly. "It hangs by a ribbon round his neck. I saw it as I watched him through the window. That will I bring as proof."

"Enough, then; 'tis a bargain. Bring me that key and I will pay thy cruel, wicked price. And now let me away before I am clean ruined."

Here both men rose; but now it was my turn. Throughout their foul plotting my blood had risen pell-mell, till now, with the dastardly completion of their bargain, 'twas surging through me like a burning flood, which drowned all power of reasoning, and seemed to make me someone that I knew not. 'Twas wildly, madly planned, I know--nay, 'twas not planned at all. I had done better to have crept up to the ridge and tried to shoot them thence without their knowing it. I had done ten times better still, to have used the knowledge I had gained to save my father and gone off silently, leaving those thrice-accursed fellows in their ignorance. I see that clearly now. But then the power to reason, plan, nay, even think, had clean forsaken me; while as for caution, danger, fear--I knew them not. One fierce, ungovernable wish was mine--namely, to kill these would-be murderers of my father and regain the box.

Drawing a pistol from my belt I rose suddenly and sprang upon the ridge. Ferguson had just picked up the lantern, but now he flung it far away, and uttering one loud, whelping cry of terror, fled off--with both hands raised above his head--into the night. I took a flying shot at him, but all in vain, for he had vanished ere I pulled the trigger.

'Twas far different with Tubal Ammon; snatching up his money-bags he leapt back with a ringing oath, and there I could just make him out, a dim, black, post-like blotch amid the darkness. In haste I whipped the other pistol from my belt.

*CHAPTER VIII*

*A Fight for Life*

Click!--click! went both our pistol locks together, and, an instant later, two shots rang out as one. Nor was there much to choose between the aims. Tubal Ammon's bullet grazed my right side beneath the arm-pit; while mine went smash into his money-bag, and ripping it, brought forth a stream of coins which jingled thick and fast upon the ground. Had it not been for this protection, it had most surely been a stream of blood instead, for he had held the bag pressed tightly to his side. Strange that gold should save the life of one who had but just been bartering life for gold!

Again, had it not been for that wild, chancy shot at Ferguson I might have had friend Tubal now, for, instead of fleeing, he dropped straight down and grovelled in the gold, filling his pockets with it while he muttered oaths and curses terrible to hear. Doubtless greed held him as its own just then, for though my second pistol had been fired, he must have known he ran great risk; and indeed I might have got him with my sword before he could have saved himself. But the truth is, that the pistol flashes had discovered that which for the nonce made Tubal Ammon seem of small account. The Black Box, bound with cord, lay there straight below me on the turf, dropped or for gotten, as I judged it, by the chaplain in his terror-stricken flight.

Down I jumped into the hollow, and having seized my prize, was up again before you could have counted ten.

Having stuffed the precious thing into my pocket, I stood upon the ridge and once more looked at Ammon. He had risen and gone back a little; thus much I could make out but nothing more, for now he was wellnigh invisible. Dead, awful silence followed, and for the first time since leaving home I felt afraid; afraid, that is, because I could not see this murderous villain clearly, because he was now but a lurking, threatening shadow in the darkness. But just as I was thinking swiftly whether to speed home with what I had so luckily secured, or draw my sword and try to end the mischief-working fellow's life, the heavy westward clouds behind me broke; the moon burst forth; and, in a moment, we were made plain to one another.

There, stiff and straight, stood Tubal Ammon with his hands behind him, as motionless as though he had been carved in cold grey stone. The moon shone full upon his yellow, wrinkled face, and, seen by that ghostly light, he was, indeed, as much like Satan as a man could be. The very gold-pieces, glistening here and there, deep red, among the grass, were to my startled fancy as great drops of blood.

Thus, for the second time within the rounding of the clock, did I and Tubal Ammon face each other; and 'tis small wonder that I, stiff as he, stared at him like one spell-bound. And as I stared, I remember wondering vaguely what had possessed him to remain thus, when he might easily have fled to safety in the dark-ness. Surely not the gold, for he had gathered most of that! What, then? Well, I was very soon to know.

Meanwhile the silence grew appalling, unsupportable. It must be broken.

"Once more!" I shouted.

"Once more," he answered, though in a voice so low and still as barely moved his lips.

"What would you have?" I asked, scarce knowing what I said.

Another silence followed, and then two words came hissing through it like a knife-thrust:

"Your life!"

Although this was no news to me, the utterance of it thus was something of a shock. A threat made face to face gains ugly meaning, especially from such a man as he who stood before me. I paused a moment, then said, slowly:

"Yes, truly, you would kill me and my father also. I am forewarned of that. For, look you, Tubal Ammon, all your foul plans are known to me. I have been listening long enough to hear them one and all."

At that he gave a little start, so small as scarcely to be noticed, then murmured:

"Ah! 'twas well done, friend, well, indeed!"

"Well or ill, 'twas done!" I answered hotly; "and now, listen, thou wicked, murderous jail-bird: before this time to-morrow, the law shall have both you and your accursed master by the heels."

"Ah, say you so?" quoth Tubal Ammon, with a mocking grin. "Well, now, the law is what I take no great account of. It may be well enough for some; but me it neither helps nor hinders, therefore, I say, it comes not in my reckoning."

"That being so," I thundered, whipping out my sword, "I will dispense with it and settle with you now!"

With that I sprang into the hollow bent on killing him, but even as I did so, his hands came from behind him, and in them I beheld the little bow with one of its poisoned arrows ready fitted to the string.

"Stop!" said he. "I give thee warning. Truly this will not carry far, some twenty paces maybe; but come against me and I will promise thee sure death within an hour. Go back, or die! Which shall it be, friend? Choose!"

I did so instantly; for this was like waging warfare with the devil, not with man. Shuddering with horror I leapt back to the crest and once more faced my enemy.

"You have chosen wisely, friend," said he.

"I have chosen as a man must choose when matched against a cruel, murderous demon such as you," I answered.

"Well, now, there is some truth in that," replied the shameless knave.

"Yes, but more in this," I put in fiercely. "Listen Tubal Ammon, limb of Satan, as you surely are! Standing here I utterly defy you, dare you, as an honest man may dare the devil! Do your worst or best, I care not! Nay, I flout both you and your accursed master with those murderous plans which I have overheard this night. I care no more for them or you than that!"

Here I shook my sword at him, and having sheathed it with a loud, emphatic smack, turned and strode down the bank and made for home.

That I was far from easy as to what lay behind me needs no saying, and doubtless it was this that made me hurry when I reached the level ground. Hurry, at least, I did, with long, quick strides; and thus, with a moon to light the way, I should have reached The Havering (whose chimneys rose above the distant trees) in no time, but for the wicked wiles of Tubal Ammon.

I had left him standing, bow in hand, when I turned my back upon the ridge; and it seemed to me assured that ere he moved he would gather up the gold that yet remained strewn upon the grass: so much seemed certain in a man so greedy, and, by way of proving it, I more than once glanced cautiously behind me.

I had thus gone perhaps a hundred yards, when suddenly I heard what sounded like the gentle clink of coins.

Turning, I drew my sword and looked back, listening carefully, but there was nothing to be seen or heard. The night was still as death, and so, perhaps, thought I, the sound of Ammon gathering up his gold had carried thus far.

At any rate, I saw no reason for alarm, and therefore, with my sword still drawn in readiness, strode on again a little quicker.

Another dozen yards or so, then--chink! chink! chink! Yes, there could be no doubt about it; and 'twas nearer this time.

Remembering my experience with the oak tree, I went on a few more steps as though unheeding, then turned sharply round. The plan succeeded well; for there, sure enough, some fifty yards away, I saw a head pop down behind a gorse bush.

And then, as in a flash, I saw it all. This was Tubal Ammon's latest plan for dealing death; this was why he had remained and waited, and allowed me to depart, as it appeared, without the least concern. I understood. He had meant to follow me in stealth--to creep upon me from behind, and shoot me in the back!

On realizing this I broke out in a sweat of fear and horror. I am no coward, and vow that had it been a clean, straight sword-fight, man to man, I would have waited for my foe without a qualm. But to be done to death in that heathenish and most atrocious fashion was utterly beyond me. I could not face it. Sheathing my sword I turned and fled for my very life.

A low, fierce cry, and the pad of swiftly-running feet broke out behind. Ammon was after me. Taking a quick, back shoulder glance, I saw him coming like the wind. His feet seemed scarce to touch the ground. It was as though the Evil One himself were in pursuit. Never before, I trow, had such a breathless race 'twixt life and death gone forward on those ancient, wave-washed cliffs.

Putting forth all the strength and length of limb which God had given me, I strove to win, but all in vain. The light-toed villain gained upon me every yard, the clink of gold grew nearer, louder, every moment, until there could not have been twenty yards between us, and I could even hear his hissing breath. At any moment now the poisonous prick might come. The thought was unendurable. Better turn round and face sure death than wait for it to strike me from behind, I knew not when.

With this thought in my head, I leapt aside, and such was Ammon's speed that he had gone flying past a good ten yards ere he could stop himself; then, as he turned, I drew my sword out and rushed at him. But he was all too quick for me; with one great, cat-like spring, he saved himself, so that my upraised weapon clave the air: then, as I turned to face him, I saw his evil eye beyond the little bow as he took a hurried, deadly aim.

Hiss! the murderous arrow struck me full in the breast and quivered there, while by the sound of it, it had cut clean through to the bone.

I felt no pain--nay, not a prick--and yet, so certain was I that a slow and hideous death would surely follow, that in the terror of that awful moment my strength seemed to forsake me, my sword fell to the ground, and thus I stood and stared at Tubal Ammon, as some dumb stricken beast might at the giver of its death-blow. I saw his drooping eyelids rise and fall, his body quivered for a moment, then, with a ravening cry, he sprang upon me.

So fierce and sudden was his rush that I had no chance to pick my sword up, and as he leapt upon me I was driven staggering backwards for a yard or two. Then such a fight began beneath that staring moon as makes me shudder when I think upon it.

My strength must have been three times that of Ammon's in the way of common wrestling, but so close and snake-like were his methods that from the first he had the best of it. His legs and arms wound round me like the tentacles of an octopus, every moment tightening with a crushing, suffocating power.

In vain I struck and tore and wrenched: he seemed to have no flesh to bruise, no bones to break; a thing of steel and hide had not been more impervious to blows. His fetid breath was on my face, his cruel eyes were close to mine; it was a very nightmare of a fight, in which all skill and knowledge counted for nothing and were powerless to avail.

Thus to and fro we swayed like one, first this way and then that, until my strength and breath began to fail by reason of the hopeless, stifling struggle. With one last desperate wrench I tried in vain to cast the clinging demon from me. His bony hand shot out and gripped me by the throat, his left leg wound about my right, I staggered for a moment, then fell crashing backward. My head struck something hard, the moon shot zigzag down the sky, and with it went the grinning face of Tubal Ammon. Black darkness followed.

*CHAPTER IX*

*The Shadow of Death*

"Coome, now, zur, another soop o' this and you'm a man agen."

The words fell on my muffled ears as though the voice were calling from a distance; then the murmur of the sea broke in upon me like a sullen roar, as, with a wild, bewildering rush I rose to life again.

And thus I found that I was sitting up (or lolling like a sack of flour were better words for it), with a knee and arm behind me, while my head, which ached abominably, lay back upon a shoulder. So much I made out in that first dim gleam of consciousness, but for the rest of it I was still half-dazed and could not think.

"Another drop--joost one, zur," urged the voice again.

Something (a leathern bottle, as I found out afterwards) was pressed against my lips. I drew upon it with a will, then nearly choked. Hot, burning stuff it was, that sent the blood a-dancing through my veins like wildfire.

"Brandy!" I gasped, as soon as breath would let me.

"Aye, aye, you'm right, zur. Brandy it be--best French, too."

The cloud of black bewilderment was passing--the voice was now familiar. Glancing up I met the keen grey eyes of Daniel Ratlaw (or Rat as he was called), the greatest thorn in Dassell's side, because he was the king of cargo runners.

"Smuggled?" said I.

"Right agen," he nodded, with a wink. "Smuggled sure enough it were, but mebbe none the worse for that."

"Nay, surely, Rat," I murmured; then sat silent for a time, striving to collect my scattered thoughts, which so far had remained a wild unruly throng. The moon, which I had last seen shooting down the sky with Ammon's head for company, now shone brightly; and what was that which flashed its light back from the grass? My sword! When I saw that, the past rushed on me pell-mell. The poisoned arrow! Surely it was time that death was stealing over me! The throbbing of my head--was that not part of it?

I gave a shuddering downward glance towards my breast. The murderous little shaft was hanging from my coat. Ratlaw's eyes had followed mine and seen it also.

"Whoy, what be that?" says he, and tried to seize it, but I dashed his hand away.

"Have a care!" I cried, "'tis poisoned!"

And with that I plucked the arrow out and cast it clear into the bushes at my back.

"Poisoned!" gasped Dan, and very nearly let me drop.

"Yes," said I, "tipped with deadly poison. Say," I added, "do I look strange? Is my face black, or green, or blue?"

He laughed and answered:

"Nay, 'tis a lovely red, I vow."

That relieved me greatly; still, being far from satisfied, my hand went creeping to the spot where, as it seemed, the arrow had struck clean through to the breastbone, and there, beneath my coat, I felt the Black Box.

"Heaven be thanked!" said I aloud. "It saved me."