CHAPTER XIII
A PROPOSAL AND A THREAT
Sir Humphrey Challoner had not been long in making up his mind to takeMaster Mittachip's pernicious advice. He twisted the old adage that"everything is fair in love" to a justification of his own evil purpose.He was not by any means a bad man. Save for his somewhat inordinatelove of money, he had none of the outrageous vices which were lookedupon with leniency in the quality in those days.
He drank hard, and exacted his pound of flesh equally from all histenants, but neither of these characteristics was unusual in an Englishsquire of the early eighteenth century: a great many of them wereimpecunious, and all were fond of good cheer. Originally he had meantno harm to the young Earl of Stretton. His plan, as he clumsilyconceived it, was to get Philip into trouble first, then to extricatehim from it, for the sake of earning the gratitude of the richestheiress in the Midlands and the most beautiful woman in England to boot.
Sir Humphrey Challoner was not a diplomatist: he was a rough countrygentleman of that time, with but scant notions of abstract right andwrong where his own desires were at stake.
His original plan had failed through that very Act of Parliament whichplaced Philip's life in immediate and imminent peril. Sir Humphrey didnot desire the lad's death: of course not. He had nothing to gainthereby, and only wished for the sister's hand in marriage. He startedfor London post-haste, hoping still to use what influence he had, andalso what knowledge he possessed of Philip's attitude at the time of therebellion, in order to bring about the boy's justification and release.
That Patience had evidently found a means of proving her brother'sinnocence without his help was a bitter disappointment to Sir Humphrey.He knew that she would never marry him of her own free will, but only oncompulsion or from gratitude.
The latter was now out of the question. He could do nothing to earn it.Compulsion was the only course, and Mittachip, with crafty persuasion,had shown him the possible way; therefore he went to the forge of JohnStich to carry through the plan to that end.
It was close on sunset. On the Moor, gorse, bramble and heather werebathed in ruddy gold, the brilliant aftermath of this glowing Septemberafternoon.
Sir Humphrey had walked over from the Moorhen; as soon as he entered theforge, the first thing he noticed was the beautiful chestnut horsetethered against the door-post, the same which he himself had declaredthat very day to be worth a small fortune. Fate was obviously playinginto his hands. Mittachip had neither deceived him nor lured him withfalse hopes.
Otherwise the shed was empty: there was no sign of John Stich, or of thestranger who rode the chestnut horse. Sir Humphrey went within and, aspatiently as he could, set himself to wait.
When therefore Jack Bathurst returned to the forge some few minuteslater, he found that her ladyship, Betty and Stich had gone, whilst,sitting on the edge of the rough deal table, and impatiently tapping hisboot with a riding-whip, was no less a personage than the Squire ofHartington.
Jack had caught a glimpse of his Honour the night before on the Heath,under circumstances which even now brought a smile to his lips, andwhich incidentally had made the poor of Brassington richer by fiftyguineas.
For a moment he hesitated whether he would go in or no. He had beenmasked during that incident, of course, and knew not even the ABC offear. His dare-devil spirit of fun and adventure quickly gained theupper hand, and the next moment he had greeted his Honour with all thecourtly grace he had at command.
Sir Humphrey looked at him keenly for a moment or two. Young andwell-looking! Oft to be seen at the forge at sundown! ... Odd's lifebut...
"Your servant, sir!" he said, returning the salutation.
Sir Humphrey was in no hurry. He firmly believed that Fate had decidedto be kind to him in this matter, but he feared to brusque thesituation, and thereby to imperil the successful issue of his scheme.
Therefore he passed the time of day with this well-looking stranger, hetalked of the weather and the rains on the Moors, the bad state of theroads and the insufficiency of police in the county, of the laterebellion and the newest fashion in coats.
Jack Bathurst seemed to fall into his mood. He was shrewd enough toperceive that Sir Humphrey Challoner was in his own estimation playing adiplomatic game of cat and mouse, and it much intrigued Bathurst to knowwhat his ultimate purpose might be. He had not long to wait; after somefive minutes of casual conversation, Sir Humphrey went straight for hisgoal.
"Odd's life!" he said suddenly, interrupting his own flow of small talk,"it wonders me how long that rascally smith'll stay away from his work.Adsbud! but he's a lazy vagabond. What say you, sir?"
"Nay! you, sir, wrong an honest man," replied Bathurst. "John Stich isa steady worker. Shall I call him for you? I know my way about hiscottage."
"Nay, I thank you, sir! my purpose can wait. Truth to tell," added hisHonour, carelessly, "'twas not the blacksmith's work I needed, but hishelp in a trifling matter of business."
"Indeed?"
"You'll be surprised perhaps at my question, sir, but have you everheard mention of that fellow, Beau Brocade?"
"Oh! ... vaguely..."
"A highwayman, sir, and a consummate rogue, yet your honest John Stichis said to be his friend."
"Indeed?"
"Now, an you'll believe me, sir, I have a mind to speak with therascal."
"Indeed? then you are bolder than most, sir," said Jack, cheerfully. Hewas really beginning to wonder what the Squire of Hartington was drivingat.
"It seems strange, doesn't it? but to be frank with you, I'm in twominds about that rogue."
"How so?"
"Well! I have a score to settle with him, and a business to propose;and I cannot decide which course to adopt."
"You, sir, being so clever, might perhaps manage both," said Bathurstwith a touch of sarcasm.
"Hm! I wonder now," continued Sir Humphrey, not wishing to notice theslight impertinence. "I wonder now what an independent gentleman likeyourself would advise me to do. I have not the honour of knowing whoyou are," he added with grave condescension, "but I can see that you_are_, like myself, a gentleman."
Bathurst bowed in polite acknowledgment.
"I should be proud to serve you with advice, sir, since you desire it."
"Well! as I have said, I have a score to settle with the rogue. Hestole fifty guineas from me last night."
"Ah me!" sighed Jack, with a melancholy shake of the head, "then I fearme he'll never haunt the Heath again."
"What mean you, sir?"
"Nay! I can picture the rascal now, after you, sir, had punished himfor his impudence! A mangled, bleeding wreck! But there! I have nopity for him! Daring to measure his valour against your noted prowess!"
"Quite so! quite so!" quoth his Honour, whilst smothering a curse atthis more obvious piece of insolence.
"But I entreat your pardon. I was interrupting the story."
"I saw the rogue, sir," said Sir Humphrey, glancing significantly at theyoung man, "saw him clearly by the light of my carriage lanthorns. Hewas masked, of course, but I'd know him anywhere, and could denounce himto-morrow."
He had risen to his feet, and with legs apart, standing face to facewith Bathurst, he spoke every word as if he meant them to act as athreat.
"There are plenty of soldiers about these parts now, even if the countryfolk won't touch their vaunted hero of romance. I could get him hanged,sir, within a week. A cordon of soldiers round this Heath, my word toswear his identity, and.... But there!" he added with a jovial laugh,"'tis no concern of yours is it, sir? You were kind enough to promiseme your advice. This is one of my alternatives, the score I'd wish tosettle; there's still the business I could offer the rogue."
Sir Humphrey had looked the young man squarely in the face whilst heuttered his threat, but had seen nothing there, save the merriest, themost light-hearted of smiles.
"I can scarce advise you, sir,
" said Bathurst, still smiling, "unless Iknow the business as well."
"Well, sir, you know of old Lady Rounce, do you not? the meanest,ugliest old witch in the county, eh? Well! she is on her way to London,and carries with her a mass of money, wrung from her miserable tenants."
"Faith, sir! you paint a most entrancing picture of the lady."
"Now, an that rascal Beau Brocade were willing to serve me, he could atone stroke save his own neck from the gallows, enrich himself, right theinnocent and confound a wicked old woman."
"And how could this galaxy of noble deeds be accomplished at one stroke,sir?"
"Her ladyship's coach will pass over the Heath to-night. It should beat the cross-roads soon. There will be all the old harridan's money andjewels to be got out of it."
"Of course."
"And also a packet of love-letters, which doubtless will be hidden awayin the receptacle beneath the seat."
"Letters?" queried Bathurst. "Hm! I doubt me if love-letters wouldtempt a gentleman of the road."
"Nay, sir," replied his Honour, now dropping his voice to a confidentialwhisper, "these are letters which, if published, would compromise anartless young lady, whom old Lady Rounce pursues with her hatred andspite. Now I would give a hundred guineas to any person who will bringme those letters at the Moorhen to-morrow. Surely to a gentleman of theroad the game would be worth the candle. Lady Rounce carries money withher besides, and her diamonds. What think you of it, sir?"
"'Tis somewhat difficult to advise," said Bathurst, meditatively.
"Ah well!" said Sir Humphrey with affected indifference, "'tis reallynot much to me. On the whole perhaps I would prefer to deliver therascal into the hands of my friend Squire West at Brassington. Anyway, Ihave the night to think the matter over; 'tis too late now to wait forthat lout, John Stich. I would have preferred to have had your advice,sir. I daresay 'tis difficult to give. And you a stranger too. Iwould have liked to save a young girl from the clutches of that oldwitch, Lady Rounce, and if Beau Brocade rendered me that service, I'd betempted to hold my tongue about him.... He should have the hundredguineas to-morrow and have nought to fear from me, if he brought methose letters. If not ... well! ... well! ... we shall see.... The oldgallows here have long been idle ... we shall see ... we shall see....Good-day to you, sir ... proud to have met you.... No ... I'll not waitfor John Stich. Is this your horse? ... pretty creature! ... Good-day,sir ... good-day."
His Honour was extremely condescending and pleasant. He bowed verypolitely to Bathurst, patted the beautiful chestnut horse, and showed nofurther desire to talk with John Stich.
Bathurst, with a frown on his handsome face, watched the Squire ofHartington's burly figure disappear round the bend in the road.
"I wonder now," he mused, "what mischief he's brewing. He seemed to meup to no good. I suppose he guessed who I was."
While he stood there watching, John Stich quickly entered the forge fromthe rear.
"I was in the cottage, Captain," he said, "my mother was serving theladies with some milk. But just now I saw Sir Humphrey Challonerwalking away from the forge. I feared he might see you."
"He did see me, honest friend," said Jack, lightly. "His Honour and Ihave just had a long and animated conversation together."
"Great Heavens! the man is furious with you, Captain!" said the smith,with genuine anxiety in his gruff voice, "he saw you distinctly on theHeath last night. He may have recognised you to-day."
"He did recognise me."
"And may be brewing the devil's own mischief against you."
"Oh, ho!" laughed the young man, with a careless shrug of the shoulders,"against me? ... Well! you know, honest John, I am bound to end on thegallows..."
"Sooner or later! Sooner or later!" he added merrily, noting John'slook of sorrowful alarm. "They've not got me yet, though there are somany soldiers about, as that piece of underdone roast-beef said justnow."
"You'll not tell me what Sir Humphrey Challoner spoke to you about?"
"No, friend, I will not," said Jack, with a look of infinite kindnessand placing a slender white hand on the smith's broad shoulder. "Youare my friend, you know, you shoe and care after my horse, you shelterand comfort me. May Heaven's legions of angels bless you for that. Ofmy life on the Heath I'll never tell you aught, whatever you may guess.'Tis better so. I'll not have you compromised, or implicated in myadventures. In case ... well! ... if they do catch me, you know,friend, 'tis better for your sake that you should know nothing."
"But you'll not go on the Heath to-night, Captain," pleaded the smith,with a tremor in his voice.
"Aye! that I will, John Stich," rejoined Bathurst, with a carelesslaugh, which now had an unmistakable ring of bitterness in it, "to stopa coach, to lift a purse! that's my business.... Aye! I'll to theHeath, friend, 'tis my only home, you know, ere I find a resting-placeon the gallows yonder."
John sighed and turned away, and thus did not hear the faint murmur thatcame of a great and good heart over-full with longing anddisappointment.
"My beautiful white rose! ... how pale she looked ... and howexquisitely fair! ... Ah! me ... if only.... Jack! Jack! don't be afool!" he added with a short, deep sigh, "'tis too late; remember, forBeau Brocade to go galloping after an illusion!"