"Now," here interposed His Lordship the Bishop, "thanks to my LordStour's efforts, a number of our Adherents have come up from the countryand have obtained lodgings in various Quarters of the town, so thatto-morrow morning, when we proclaim the Duke of Monmouth King and thePrince of Orange Regent of the Realm, we shall be in sufficient numbersto give to our successful Coup the appearance of a national movement."
"Personally," rejoined Lord Douglas, with something of a sneer, "I thinkthat the Populace will be very easily swayed. The Castlemaine is notpopular. The King is; but it is a factitious Popularity, and one easilyblown upon, once we have his Person safely out of the way. And we mustremember that the 'No Popery' cry is still a very safe card to play withthe mob," he added with a dry laugh.
Then they all fell to and discussed their abominable Plans all overagain; whilst I, bewildered, wretched, indignant, fell on my knees andmarvelled, pondered what I should do. My pulses were throbbing, my headwas on fire; I had not the faculty for clear thinking. And there, inthe next room, not ten paces away from where I knelt in mute andagonized Prayer, six Men were planning an outrage against their King;amidst sneers and mirthless laughter and protestations of loyalty totheir Country, they planned the work of Traitors. They drew theirSwords and there was talk of invoking God's blessing upon theirnefarious Work.
God's blessing! Methought 'twas Blasphemy, and I put my hands up tomine ears lest I should hear those solemn words spoken by a consecratedBishop of our Church, and which called for the Almighty's help toaccomplish a second Regicide.
Aye! A Regicide! What else was it? as all those fine Gentlemen knewwell enough in their hearts. Would not the King resist? He was youngand vigorous. Would he not call for help? Had not my Lady CastlemaineServants who would rush to His Majesty's assistance? What then? Wasthere to be murder once more, and bloodshed and rioting--fighting suchas we poor Citizens of this tortured land had hoped was behind usforever?
And if it came to a hand-to-hand scuffle with the King's most SacredMajesty? My God! I shuddered to think what would happen then!
There was a mighty humming in my ears, like the swarm of myriads ofbees; a red veil gradually spread before my eyes, which obscured thefamiliar Surroundings about me. Through the haze which graduallyo'er-clouded my brain, I heard the voices of those Traitors droning outtheir blasphemous Oaths.
"Swear only to draw your swords in this just cause, and not to shedunnecessary blood!"
And then a chorus which to my ears sounded like the howling of EvilSpirits let loose from hell:
"We swear!"
"Then may God's blessing rest upon You. May His Angels guard andprotect You and give You the strength to accomplish what You purpose todo!"
There was a loud and prolonged "Amen!" But I waited no longer. I rosefrom my knees, suddenly calm and resolved. Do not laugh at me, dearMistress, for my conceit and my presumption when I say that I felt thatthe destinies of England rested in my hands.
Another Regicide! Oh, my God! Another era of civil Strife and militaryDictatorship such as we had endured in the past decade! Another era ofSuspicions and Jealousies and Intrigues between the many Factions whowould wish to profit by this abominable crime! It was unthinkable.Whether the King was God's Anointed or not, I, for one, am too ignorantto decide; but this I know, that the Stuart Prince was chosen littlemore than a year ago by the will of his People, that he returned toEngland acclaimed and beloved by this same Populace which was now to beegged on to treason against him by a handful of ambitious Malcontents,who did not themselves know what it was they wanted.
No! It should not be! Not while there existed an humble and punysubject of this Realm who had it in his power to put a spoke in thewheel of that Chariot of Traitors.
Ah! there was no more wavering in my heart now! no more doubts andhesitation! I would not be betraying the confidence of a trusting Man;merely disposing of a secret which Chance had tossed carelessly in mypath--a Secret which pertained to abominable Miscreants, one of whom wasthe man whom I detested more than any one or anything on God's earth--aflippant, arrogant young Reprobate who had dared to level a deadlyinsult against a Man infinitely his superior in Intellect and in Worth,and before whom now he should be made to lick the dust of Ignominy.
I was now perfectly calm. From my desk I took a copy of the Manifestowhich had remained in my possession all this while. I read the contentsthrough very carefully, so as to refresh my memory. Then I took up mypen and, at the foot of the treasonable document, I wrote the word:"To-night." Having done that, I took a sheet of notepaper and carefullywrote down the names of all the Gentlemen who were even now in the nextroom, and of several others whom I had heard mentioned by the Traitorsin the course of their Conversation. The two papers I folded carefullyand closed them down with sealing wax.
My hand did not shake whilst I did all this. I was perfectlydeliberate, for my mind was irrevocably made up. When I had completedthese preparations, I slipped the precious Documents into my pocket,took up my hat and cloak, and went out to accomplish the Errand which Ihad set myself to do.
CHAPTER VIII
THE LION'S WRATH
1
His Majesty the King was, of course, inaccessible to such as I. And thetime was short.
Did I say that the hour was even then after six? The streets were verydark, for overhead the sky was overcast, and as I walked rapidly downthe Lane to the Temple Stairs, a thin, penetrating drizzle began tofall.
My first thought had been to take boat to Westminster and to go to thehouse of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, there to consult with him asto what would be my best course to pursue. But I feel sure that You,dear Mistress, will understand me when I say that I felt a certain pridein keeping my present Project to myself.
I was not egotistical enough to persuade myself that love of Country andloyalty to my King were the sole motive powers of my Resolve. Myinnermost Heart, my Conscience perhaps, told me that an ugly Desire forRevenge had helped to stimulate my patriotic Ardour. I had realizedthat it lay in my power to avenge upon an impious Malapert the hideousOutrage which he had perpetrated against the Man whom I loved best inall the World.
I had realized, in fact, that I could become the instrument of Mr.Betterton's revenge.
That my Denunciation of the abominable Conspiracy would involve theDisgrace--probably the Death--of others who were nothing to me, I didnot pause to consider. They were all Traitors, anyhow, and all of themdeserving of punishment.
So, on the whole, I decided to act for myself. When I had seen theCountess of Castlemaine and had put her on her guard, I would go to Mr.Betterton and tell him what I had done.
I beg you to believe, however, dear Mistress, that no thought of anyreward had entered my mind, other than a Word of Appreciation from myFriend.
2
I had, as perhaps you know, a slight acquaintance with Mistress Floid,who is one of my Lady Castlemaine's tire-women. Through her, I obtainedspeech with her Ladyship.
It was not very difficult. I sent in the two Documents through MistressFloid's hands. Five minutes later I was told that my Lady desiredspeech with me.
I was a little bewildered and somewhat dazzled to be in the presence ofso great a lady. The richness of the House, the liveries of theServants, the superciliousness of the Lacqueys, all tended to discomposeme; whilst the subtle Scent of Spice and Perfumes which hung in the airand the chorus of bird-song which came from an unseen Aviary, helped tonumb my Senses. I was thankful that I had not trusted to Speech andMemory, but had set documentary Evidence forward to prove what I had tosay.
Of my interview with her Ladyship I have only a confused memory. I knowthat she asked many questions and listened to my stammering replies withobvious impatience; but I have only a very vague recollection of herflashing Eyes, of her Face, flaming with anger, of her jewelled Handclutching the docum
ents which I had brought, and of the torrent ofvituperative abuse which she poured upon the Traitors, who she vowedwould pay with their lives for their Infamy. I know that, in the end, Iwas allowed to kiss her hand and that she thanked me in her own Name andthat of His Majesty for my Loyalty and my Discretion.
I went out of the room and out of the house like a Man in a dream. Awhirl of conflicting Emotions was rending my heart and my brain, untilsheer physical nausea caused me nigh to swoon.
Truly it was a terrible Experience for a simple-minded Clerk to gothrough, and it is a marvel to me that my brain did not give way underthe Strain.
But my instinct--like that of a faithful dog seeking shelter--led me tothe lodgings of Mr. Betterton in Tothill Street, the very house in whichhis father had lived before him.
He had not yet returned from the Theatre, where he was at Rehearsal; buthis Servant knew me well and allowed me to go up into the parlour and tolie down upon the sofa for a moment's rest.
It was then nearing seven, and I knew that Mr. Betterton would soon becoming home. I now felt infinitely weary; numbness of body and brainhad followed the conflicting Emotions of the past hours, and I was onlyconscious of an overwhelming desire to rest.
I closed my eyes. The place was warm and still; a veritable Haven ofQuietude. And it was the place where dwelt the Man for whose sake I hadjust done so much. For awhile I watched the play of the firelight uponthe various articles of furniture in the room; but soon a pleasingTorpor invaded my tired Brain, and I fell asleep.
3
The sound of Voices upon the landing outside, the opening and closing ofone door and then another, recalled me to myself. The familiar sound ofmy Friend's footsteps gave me an infinity of Pleasure.
The next moment Mr. Betterton came into the room. He was preceded byhis Servant, who brought in a couple of Candles which he placed upon thetable. Apparently he had said nothing to his Master about my presencehere, for Mr. Betterton seemed vastly surprised when he saw me. I hadjust jumped to my feet when I heard him entering the room, and I supposethat I must have looked somewhat wild and dishevelled, for he expressedgreat astonishment at my Appearance.
Astonishment, and also Pleasure.
"Why, friend Honeywood!" he exclaimed, and came to greet me with bothhands outstretched. "What favourable Wind hath blown you to this port?"
He looked tired and very much aged, methought. He, a young Man, then inthe prime of Life, looked harassed and weary; all the Elasticity seemedto have gone out of his Movements, all the Springiness from hisFootstep. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, clasped hisslender hands together and stared moodily into the fire.
I watched him for awhile. His clear-cut Profile was outlined like anItalian Cameo against the dark angle of the room; the firelight gave astrange glow to his expressive Eyes and to the sensitive Mouth with thefirm lips pressed closely together, as if they would hold some Secretwhich was even then threatening to escape.
That look of dark and introspective Brooding sat more apparent now thanever upon his mobile face, and I marvelled if the News which I was aboutto impart would tend to dissipate that restless, searching glance, whichseemed for ever to be probing into the future decrees of Fate.
"I have come to tell you news, Sir," I said after a while.
He started as from a Reverie, and said half-absently:
"News? What news, friend? Good, I hope."
"Yes," I replied very quietly, even though I felt that my heart wasbeating fast within my breast with excitement. "Good news of the ManYou hate."
He made no reply for the moment, and even by the dim, uncertain light ofthe fire I could see the quick change in his face. I cannot explain itexactly, but it seemed as if something Evil had swept over it, changingevery noble line into something that was almost repellent.
My heart beat faster still. I was beginning to feel afraid and a queer,choking Sensation gripped me by the throat and silenced the Words whichwere struggling to come to my lips.
"Well?" queried Mr. Betterton a second or two later, in a calm, dull,unemotional Voice. "What is thy news, friend Honeywood?"
"There is a plot," I replied, still speaking with an effort, "againstHis Majesty and the Countess of Castlemaine."
"I knew that," he rejoined. "'Tis no news. There is more than one plot,in fact, against the King and the Castlemaine. You surely haven't comeout on this wet night," he added with a mirthless laugh, "in order totell me that!"
After all that I had gone through, after my tussle with my conscienceand my fight against myself, I felt nettled by his flippant tone.
"I know not," I said firmly, "if there is more than one plot against HisMajesty the King. But I do know that there is one which aims atstriking at his sacred Person to-night."
"That also is possible," he retorted, with still that same air offlippant Carelessness. "But even so, I do not see, my dear Friend, whatYou can do in the matter."
"I can denounce the Plot," I riposted warmly, "and help to save the lifeof His Majesty the King."
"So you can, my dear Honeywood," he said with a smile, amused at myvehemence. "So you can! And upon the King's gratitude you may lay thefoundations of your future Fortune."
"I was not thinking of a Fortune," I retorted gruffly; "only ofRevenge."
At this he looked up suddenly, leaned forward and in the firelight triedto read my face.
"Revenge?" he queried curtly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I replied earnestly, "that the Plot of which I speak is real,tangible and damnable. That a set of young Gallants have arrangedbetween themselves to waylay His Majesty the King this night in thehouse of the Countess of Castlemaine, to kidnap his sacred person, forcehim to abdicate, then proclaim the Duke of Monmouth King and the Princeof Orange Regent of the Realm."
"How do you know all this, Honeywood?" Mr. Betterton rejoined quietly,dragged, meseemed, out of his former Cynicism by the earnestness of mymanner.
"I was one of the first to know of it," I replied, "because on a certainday in September I was employed in copying the Manifesto wherewith thatpack of Traitors hoped to rally distant Friends around their Standard.For awhile I heard nothing more of the Affair, thought the whole thinghad sizzled out like a fire devoid of fuel; until to-day, when theConspirators once more met in the house of Mr. Theophilus Baggs andarranged to carry their execrable Project through to-night. Careless ofmy presence, they planned and discussed their Affairs in my hearing.They thought, I suppose, that I, like Mr. Baggs, was one of their Gang."
Gradually, while I spoke, I could see the Dawn of Comprehensionillumining Mr. Betterton's face. He still was silent, and let me speakon to the end. He was once more gazing into the fire; his arms wereresting on his knees, but his hands were beating one against the other,fist to palm, with a violent, intermittent Gesture, which proclaimed hisgrowing Impatience.
Then suddenly he raised his head, looked me once more straight in theeyes, and said slowly, reiterating some of my words:
"The Conspirators met in the house of Mr. TheophilusBaggs--then--he----"
I nodded.
"My Lord Stour," I said, deliberately measuring my words, "is up to hisneck in the damnable Conspiracy."
Still his searching gaze was fixed upon me; and now he put out his handand clutched my forearm. But he did not speak.
"I was burning with rage," I said, "at the insult put upon you by myLord Stour ... I longed to be revenged..."
His clutch upon my arm tightened till it felt like a Vice of Steel, andhis Voice came to my ear, hoarse and almost unrecognizable.
"Honeywood," he murmured, "what do You mean? What have You done?"
I tried to return his gaze, but it seemed to sear my very Soul. Terrorheld me now. I scarce could speak. My voice came out in a huskywhisper.
"I had the copy of the Manifesto," I said, "and I knew the names of theConspirators. I wrote these out and placed them with the Manifesto inthe hands of my Lady
Castlemaine."
Dear Mistress, you know the beautiful picture by the great Italianartist Michael Angelo which represents Jove hurling his thunderbolt atsome puny human Creature who hath dared to defy him. The flash of Angerexpressed by the Artist in the mighty god's eyes is truly terrifying.Well! that same Expression of unbounded and prodigious Wrath flashed outin one instant from the great Actor's eyes. He jumped to his feet,towered above me like some Giant whom I, in my presumption, had dared todefy. The flickering candle light, warring with the fireglow, and itsplay of ruddy Lights and deep phantasmagoric Shadows, lent size andweirdness to Mr. Betterton's figure and enhanced the dignity andmagnitude of his Presence. His lips were working, and I could see thathe had the greatest difficulty in forcing himself to speak coherently.
"You have done that?" he stammered. "You...?"
"To avenge the deadly insult----" I murmured, frightened to death now byhis violence.
"Silence, you fool!" he riposted hoarsely. "Is it given to the Mouse toavenge the hurt done to the Lion?"
I guessed how deeply he was moved by these Words which he spoke, moreeven than by his Attitude. Never, had he been in his normal frame ofmind, would he have said them, knowing how their cruel intent would hurtand wound me.