Part 8
The door was quickly opened and two men came out, who had been waiting for him. One of these, though scarcely older than Robin, had the strained look of hard work and high living that distinguished the professional man of that day. This was Mr. Matthew Double, and the other, in shabby black, carrying a mighty blue-bag, could never have been intended by nature for anything but a lawyer’s clerk.
"Aha! here’s our man, punctual to the minute," cried Double. "Few men would be so prompt to throw away a great inheritance, Captain."
"My word is passed," said Robin. "Did you doubt that I would keep it?"
"Not I; have I not just given you abundant proof of confidence? Still, I hate to see the chances of such a splendid law-suit thrown away; literally flung to the dogs. Dogs, too, who, if I am not mistaken, will turn and rend you when they have drawn your teeth and cut your claws."
"_When_ they have," replied Robin. "By the way, can you lend me a cloak; a long and ample one?"
"This is somewhat the worse for wear," said Double, indicating one that hung in the hall, "but if you want it for a disguise it is rather conspicuous."
"All the better for both reasons," replied Robin, throwing over his shoulders a military-looking cloak of dark green cloth, a good deal frayed, and lined with stained and faded red. With it, he assumed a swaggering step, and with his beaver cocked at a defiant angle, made a striking contrast to the smugly clad lawyer and his weazened satellite.
"I’m ready now," he cried, and the trio started, keeping to the least frequented side of a street parallel with the Strand.
"My good Captain," Mr. Double remonstrated, after going a very short distance, "moderate your stride, I pray, to that of a man a foot shorter than yourself; or, better still, let me call a coach."
"I’d rather walk, if it is all the same to you," Robin replied. "A man who has taken all his exercise for two or three weeks in the courtyard of Newgate, feels the need of stretching his legs when he gets outside."
"True, but _I_ haven’t been in Newgate for three weeks, and am, besides, of too portly a figure to enjoy violent exercise. Samuel, stop the first empty coach we meet. Truly, Captain, thou’rt a queer fellow; there are not many of your profession I’d venture to let out of my sight for twelve hours when I was under bonds to surrender him at a certain time, and he had so many good reasons for leaving me in the lurch."
Robin laughed. "Why, it would ill suit me to leave London with my affairs but half-settled," he said; "after to-day your responsibility will be at an end, and whether I decide to stay here and challenge the hangman, or accept my fate and leave the country, depends on matters you wot not of, and will concern no one but myself."
"’Tis a thousand pities," observed Double regretfully, "that you did not unravel the mystery of your birth until there was a price upon your head. There’s enough in your claim to have made a pretty case. A ve-ry pret-ty case. Even now—"
"Even now," interrupted Robin, "I have bought my life at the price of my birthright, and I’ll pay the price if I get what I bargained for. But not unless. Oh! I’m no sheep to give my wool first, and then go quietly to the shambles."
"They will scarcely attempt to do anything while you are in England—but if you are going to—say America—I would advise you to give your address in—let us say Paris."
A peculiar smile curved Robin’s mouth, but not mirthfully.
"Truly, I had thought of the colonies," he said reflectively. "Perchance, the government will give me a grant of land in some swamp or wilderness, where I can work off my superfluous energies fighting the Indians or the Spaniards."
"There is a coach, Master Double," interposed the meek voice of the clerk; "would you wish me to hire it?"
"What, within a stone’s throw of Lincoln’s Inn? Your conversation has beguiled me, Captain, but it has also made me thirsty. We have a few minutes to spare, and I would gladly crack a bottle to the successful ending of our business."
They turned into a quiet coffee-house, and Robin ordered a bottle of Burgundy. While it was being fetched from the cellar, he obtained a sheet of paper from Samuel’s blue-bag and wrote a brief letter, in which he inclosed two small documents, sealed the packet with great care, and carefully addressed it
"To Mistress Larkyn, "In care of Mine Hostess of "The Fox and Grapes."
Mine Hostess, a plump but not uncomely dame, with a merry eye, sat in her cosy bar, surrounded by quaint flagons and other emblems of her hospitable calling. She returned a cheerful answer to Robin’s greeting, and inquired his pleasure.
"You have a kindly face, and I’ll be sworn a heart to match, fair Goddess of the Grape," said Robin. "Will you help two hapless lovers, separated by cruel fate?"
"That depends on what I am to help them to," she retorted. "Mine’s a respectable house, and I’d rather have dealings with lawyers than lovers."
"I want but a trifling service from you, though ’tis a vast favor to me," said Robin. "Will you take charge of this letter, and by and by give it to the serving-man of Mistress Larkyn, whose name is writ upon it?"
"Oh! if that’s all," she said, extending a hand that was plump and shapely, if not over-clean. Robin seized the hand and touched it gallantly with his lips, before surrendering the letter to its clasp. After that, although she called him an "impudent varlet," and made as though to box his ears, he might have asked a much greater favor without danger of rebuff.
When they went out again, Robin cast the green cloak about him, and strode along with an air that made more than one peaceable citizen give him the footway all to himself. As they entered Lincoln’s Inn Square, this became still more marked, and in front of one of the finest houses, he stopped and looked round with an insolent swagger that greatly impressed a group of men loitering under a tree near by.
Double could not quite conceal his dissatisfaction, and pulling his client by the sleeve, whispered that the men looked like constables in plain clothes, and that they could hardly fail to recognize him when he came out, if, as seemed probable, they were waiting there for him.
"Let them stare their fill," said Robin. "I wish them to become thoroughly acquainted with Robin Freemantle’s appearance." And he walked slowly up the steps into the house.
In an up-stairs room, Lord Beachcombe and his lawyer awaited them. Robin left his swashbuckling manners in the anteroom, where Samuel was relieved of his bag and left to the congenial society of two or three clerks.
Lord Beachcombe returned Robin’s courteous greeting with a haughty movement that was scarcely a salute, the two lawyers met with friendly formality, tape-tied papers were produced, and the conference began.
"I understood," said the earl, addressing his attorney, "that the person who calls himself Robert Gregory de Cliffe would be present to-day."
"Have patience, my Lord, he will be here in good time," interposed Mr. Double. "Have you examined the attested copies, Mr. Perry?"
"I have, and to avoid waste of time, I am prepared to admit that they appear to contain interesting family matters, highly interesting. Not that they would be of much legal value if you brought the case before the courts, but enough to cause some annoyance to my client. We have shown that we consider it worth examining into the affair, by obtaining the pardon of this"—he glanced at Robin—"this gentleman."
"And also by taking the precaution of having a warrant ready for my arrest on another charge," said Robin, quietly but incisively.
Mr. Perry glanced at Lord Beachcombe, and their eyes met with the same inquiry, "How can he know?"
"Had you kept faith with me," said Robin, bending his stern gaze upon Beachcombe, "this matter could have been settled in a few minutes. As it is, I have decided not to put the two most important documents in your hands until I am in a place of safety."
"Traitor!" exclaimed Beachcombe, striking the table with his clenched fist. "I knew he would devise some means to balk me!"
"If you talk of traitors, did you not purpose to get everything you wanted from me, and then put my head back in the noose?" demanded Robin. "Such a cat-and-mouse game is not so easy to play with a man who has carried his life in his hand through every kind of danger—even to the gallows’-foot—even through treachery, though that is less common among gentlemen of the road than some other kinds of gentlemen. In exchange for my life, I will give you, as I promised, the original letters that passed between your father and his first wife, the original documents proving the identity of both parties, and the _copies_ of the marriage certificate and the death certificate that prove _your_ mother’s marriage a fraud."
"Oh! this villain will drive me mad!" screamed Lord Beachcombe. "Let me go, Perry; must I kill you to get at him?"
"Be calm, my Lord, I beg you," urged the lawyer, very red in the face from his efforts to restrain his client; "this matter can be arranged without violence, if you will leave it to me. Mr.—a—Captain—a—Freebooter, pray address any remarks to me. You will only impede the negotiation by provoking Lord Beachcombe."
"Here are the original letters and documents," said Mr. Double, advancing to the table, "we will go over them together." The lawyers went to work together, comparing, arguing and quibbling, as though the whole matter had not been settled in advance.
Robin, meantime, strolled to the window, where he observed one of the loitering men in conversation with a furtive man in black, with a pen stuck in his rusty wig. He stealthily pointed Robin out when he appeared at the window, and then darted back to the house like a rat into its hole.
"These letters appear genuine," said Mr. Perry finally, "but they are valueless to us without the two certificates."
"They are worth as much to you as your pledge of safety is to me," returned Robin. "Why should you expect to feel safe from me, while I am still in danger from you? That was not the compact. The hour that I set my foot on a foreign shore in safety, I will cut the last thread that binds me to the past, but those two papers will never be yours, Lord Beachcombe, until it is out of your power to injure me. I have given my word, and I will keep it. My title in exchange for my life; your legitimacy in exchange for my safety."
"I knew it—I felt it!" cried Beachcombe. "This fellow himself is the arch-impostor."
"Impostor!" said Robin, with a contemptuous laugh, as he stood up and pointed to the earl. "Nature has cast us in the same mold; God be praised that her work is only skin-deep. Double, you have the late earl’s picture in that bag; pull it out, and let us see on which of his sons he printed off the best likeness of himself."
Mr. Double drew forth a roll of canvas, that bore evidence of having been hastily cut from the frame.
"My father’s picture!" cried Beachcombe, recognizing it with amazement. "How came it in your possession?"
"It fell into my hands," said Robin dryly, "when I was lately in the North Country. I thought it might be useful, so I brought it away with me."
"You mean, I suppose, that you stole it from Beachcombe Castle," snapped the earl.
"How could I steal my own? Beachcombe Castle is entailed upon the eldest son, and I inherited it from my father, as the son just born to you will doubtless inherit it from you if nothing untoward happens to me. You ought to pray heartily for my welfare, my Lord, until I am safely landed in—America. Still, I am not dependent upon the picture of a dead man for proofs of identity. I can bring twenty living witnesses to prove that I am the son of Mrs. Vincent, whose marriage to Captain Gregory de Cliffe I can prove by documents and other valuable evidence."
"You will give up the two certificates if Lord Beachcombe pledges his word that you will be allowed to leave England unmolested, will you not?" inquired Mr. Perry insinuatingly.
"I will not," replied Robin firmly.
"Well, then—I urge this matter because my lord will have a long period of suspense to endure before he receives those documents, and without impugning your good faith, it is possible they might fall into the wrong hands after all—will you give them up if Lord Beachcombe gives you a written guarantee that you will be safe, so far as he can protect you?"
"I do not value his written guarantee one farthing," said Robin contemptuously. "Given an hour’s start, I am ready to take my chance of escape from any lawyer or traitor of you all. But I’ve a reason for wishing to remain in London for the next few days, and I’ll not give up the one thing that enables me to do it in safety."
Beachcombe sprang to his feet. "I have stood this insolence long enough!" he exclaimed. "You—an outlaw, a convicted robber, dare to spurn my word!—refuse to accept _my_ written promise! Pray, what will satisfy you?"
"Oh! if you wish to offer me satisfaction, ’tis quickly settled," cried Robin. "To cross swords with your lordship will give me the utmost pleasure, and let him who draws the first blood dictate the terms of truce."
Beachcombe sneered, but he was not a coward, and his fingers almost involuntarily wandered to his sword-hilt.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried the lawyer. "This is no time or place for fighting; besides, if there is anything in your story, Captain—Freebooter—the curse of Cain would be on the one who shed the other’s blood."
"Will the one who hires somebody else to shed the other’s blood, escape the curse of Cain?" sternly inquired Robin. "If we can not settle this business like gentlemen, let us get it over as quickly as possible. It will not be difficult, I dare say, to find some better occasion for a meeting."
In a great hurry, Mr. Perry read over a legal document, renouncing on the part of "the person claiming to be Robert Gregory de Cliffe and his descendants for ever," all titles, estates entailed or otherwise, and other belongings appertaining to the Beachcombe family in all its ramifications, in consideration of one thousand pounds over and above all expenses of his transportation to a foreign land, or any place outside of the British Isles, that he might select for his future abode. The above to be paid to him on signing this deed, and to constitute a full satisfaction for every claim, past, present and future.
Robin listened with scant patience to the monotonous repetition of legal terms by which every contingency was forestalled and provided for. Then he requested Mr. Double to peruse it, in case there might be snares or hidden meanings in it. Two clerks were called in to witness the bold signature of Robert Gregory de Cliffe, and finally, Mr. Perry counted out one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, as compensation for Robin’s claim to an inheritance worth twenty thousand a year, two hundred more for his expenses in leaving the country, and certain sums to Mr. Double for his services. Lord Beachcombe showed very little interest in this part of the transaction, but sat biting his nails and fingering his sword-hilt.
Mr. Perry drew Mr. Double aside, and made one last attempt to convince him that it would be greatly to the interest of all parties if he could persuade his client to surrender the two documents of whose value he held so exaggerated an estimate. Meantime, Robin strolled up to the window, arranging his beaver with great nonchalance, and throwing the end of the cloak over his shoulder, so as to display the red lining.
He observed that the loitering men had drawn together, and numbered about half-a-score, armed with stout bludgeons and still more deadly weapons. Near them, under the trees, a ragged urchin walked Lord Beachcombe’s horse slowly up and down, hopeful of a bounteous douceur from the noble patron who had kept him so long waiting.
"Now, Captain," said Mr. Double, "I am at your service."
Robin walked to the door, and removing his beaver, swept so low a bow, that he dropped it on the floor.
"Farewell, Mr. Perry,—you will hear from me—from foreign parts. My Lord Beachcombe—adieu."
The lawyer, who had already assumed an air of preoccupation with other matters, returned the bow with ceremonious frostiness. Lord Beachcombe did not even turn his head. Consequently, neither of them saw Robin kick his own hat out of the way and help himself to one that lay on a chair near the door.
"Give me five minutes start," he whispered to Double, as he quickly disengaged himself from the green cloak and threw it into a dark corner of the stairway. When he emerged from the front door, a dignified gentleman in a plum-colored riding-coat and black velvet cavalier hat with a long, drooping ostrich feather, he looked as little as possible like the roystering blade who had been seen a few minutes before at the upper window. He signed to the boy with the horse, and mounting without haste, threw him a shilling and beckoned to the chief of the posse of constables.
"You had better bring your men on this side of the street," he said imperiously; "don’t give the fellow time to get away or you will never catch him again. And, mind—dead or alive!"
The man knuckled his hat obsequiously. "Yes, m’ Lud," he said, with something the air of one bulldog being egged on to attack another. "Them’s my orders."
Robin gave him a curt word, and rode out through the gateway leading into Chancery Lane. When he was out of sight, he gave rein to his horse, and taking to the network of narrow lanes that lay between the Strand and the river, made off with the utmost speed toward Westminster.
*CHAPTER XIII*
*THE SEALED PACKET*
Mr. Double did not hurry after his client, but gave him a good ten minutes’ start, while he made Samuel search the blue-bag for some imaginary papers, and then, bidding him shoulder his hated burden, went forth, much reassured by the absence of commotion in the Square.
The posse had collected outside the house, and eyed the lawyer and his clerk suspiciously. There was a moment of expectation as they recognized the companions of their quarry, but Double and his satellite were not molested, and at a short distance they separated, and Samuel pursued his westward way alone. He did not go far, but leaving his bag in charge of a friendly law-stationer, scurried back to Lincoln’s Inn, and slipping through the constables, ran up-stairs and knocked timidly at the door of Mr. Perry’s private sanctum.
"What do you want here, fellow?" demanded Perry, opening the door and discovering the little, cringing, shabby figure shrinking into the shadow. "This is not the clerk’s office."
"Could I—can I—speak a word with the—the lord?" stammered Samuel.
Mr. Perry looked very searchingly at him for a minute or so. Then he relaxed a little and made room for him to pass into the room, which he did, smoothing his flaxen wig over his forehead with his moist palm, and evidently in a desperately uneasy frame of mind.
"Do you want to speak to Me?" demanded Lord Beachcombe, in a haughty voice, that sounded so terrible to the clerk, that he could hardly stammer out, "Y—yes."
"And what have you to say?" inquired Mr. Perry, in a more encouraging tone. "Speak out, man, don’t be frightened; nobody will hurt you."
"Ah! but he would, if he knew," quavered Samuel, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"You mean Mr. Double? I suppose you want to tell us something he is concealing from us, eh? Well, we will protect you from him," said Mr. Perry magnanimously.
"’Tis not so much him I’m afraid of as the captain," whispered Samuel, glancing from side to side, as though he expected to see him lurking somewhere about. Then he approached Lord Beachcombe on tiptoe. "What will you give me if I get you those certificates?"
"Damnation!" cried Beachcombe, starting up, black with fury; "are my private affairs known to every quill-driver in the town?"
Samuel turned livid with terror. "I only know where they are," he whimpered; "I don’t know anything about them."
"Well, where are they?" demanded Beachcombe threateningly.
A glint of cunning sparkled in Samuel’s eye. "It wouldn’t be any use for me to tell your lordship where they are. No one can get at them but me, and as I shall be suspected, it’s worth a good deal for the risk I run—if the certificates are any use to your lordship."
"How do you know what certificates these are, if you say you don’t know anything about them?" interposed Mr. Perry.
"Because I heard the captain tell Mr. Double that he could afford to let Lord Beachcombe have everything else, so long as he kept the two certificates back. So he put them where nobody knows but himself and Double and me. And he’ll have them out if I don’t hurry and get there first."
"You need not be uneasy about that," said Beachcombe, with a grin of malicious joy. "Captain Freemantle is on his way to Newgate Prison by now, and if those—papers—find their way into my possession, I think it is safe to say that he will never come out except to make the journey to Tyburn."
"On his way to Newgate?" cried the little clerk, rubbing his hands with glee. "Then, if we can agree on the price, your lordship can have them in an hour."
"If you bring them to me—without reading them—in an hour, I will give you ten guineas," said Lord Beachcombe magnificently.
"Ten guineas!" echoed Samuel, with a falling countenance. "They can not be so very important, after all, if that’s all they’re worth."
"How much did you expect?" demanded Beachcombe, who hated parting with his money, and was still writhing under the agony of having had to disburse so considerable a sum already over this affair.
"Considering the risk, I think I ought to have a hundred pounds," pleaded Samuel, trembling at his own audacity.
"A hundred devils!" growled Beachcombe; "do you think I am made of money?"
"It’s well worth it, my Lord," urged Samuel. "You don’t know the risk I run, even if the captain is in jail. And why wouldn’t he get out? He’s been there before and cheated the hangman; he’s as artful as a fox, and has more friends than you and I know of."
Beachcombe reflected a while. "Well, bring the documents to my house and you shall have the hundred pounds. But if you ever betray the slightest knowledge of them, it will be worse for you than if the captain, as you call him, escaped from prison and came after you with all his friends."
"They’re in a sealed packet, my Lord, and if I break the seal you can keep your money," said Samuel, growing bolder, as a confederacy in dishonor brought the haughty peer nearer to his level. Beachcombe signified his acceptance of the compact and walked over to the window, while Mr. Perry gave Samuel instructions how to make sure of the packet falling into no other than the right hands.
"God’s death!" Beachcombe suddenly exclaimed, in so strange a voice, that the others hurried to the window and looked anxiously out to see what had befallen. The street was perfectly quiet. A couple of barristers, with their gowns tucked up, stood talking and laughing, a street vendor shouted the praises of his wares, a slatternly woman, with a baby in her arms and another clinging to her skirt, lounged under the trees opposite, and the group of constables, still expectant, chewed straws and spat them out in the gutter, with the utter absence of hurry so frequently observed in men whose time is owned and paid for by the government. Nothing else was in sight.
"What are those men waiting for?" roared Beachcombe. "Is that scoundrel hiding in this house? Call them in, Perry, and make them search every corner. By Heaven! if you have let him slip through your fingers—"
"Do you mean the captain?" asked the trembling clerk. "He went out half an hour ago, just before me and Mr. Double."