CHAPTER VIII
THE BITER BIT
With John Carstares the winter had passed quite uneventfully. Hecontinued his highway robbery, but he made two bad blunders--not fromthe point of view of a thief, but from that of the gentleman in him. Thefirst was when he stopped an opulent-looking chariot, which he found tocontain two ladies, their maid and their jewels, and the second when theoccupant of a large travelling coach chanced to be an old gentleman whopossessed far greater courage than physical strength. On the firstoccasion my lord's dismay had been ludicrous, and he had hastily retiredafter tendering a naive apology. The old gentleman in the second episodehad defied him so gallantly that he had impulsively offered him the buttend of one of his pistols. The old man was so surprised that he allowedthe weapon to fall to the ground, where it exploded quite harmlessly,sending up a cloud of dust and smoke. Carstares then begged his pardonmost humbly, assisted him back into his coach, and rode off before theastonished Mr. Dunbar had time to collect his wits.
The robbing was not carried out in a very scientific manner, for, as hasbeen seen, Carstares could not bring himself to terrorise women or oldmen, and there only remained the young and the middle-aged gentlemen,one of whom Jack offered to fight for the possession of his jewels. Hischallenge was promptly accepted by the man, who happened to possess astrong sense of humour, and probably saw a chance of saving hisbelongings in the offer. He had been speedily worsted, but Carstares wasso pleased with a particularly neat thrust which he had executed, thathe forwent half the booty, and the pair of them divided the contents ofthe jewel-box by the roadside, the sporting gentleman keeping his mostvalued belongings and giving Jack the surplus. They parted on the verybest of terms, and all Carstares got out of the episode was a littlesword practice and a few trinkets.
When day came he was patrolling the west side of Sussex, beyondMidhurst, not because he thought it a profitable part, but because heknew and loved the country. One late afternoon towards the end of themonth he rode gaily into one of the small villages that nestle amongstthe Downs, and made his way down the quaint main street to the GeorgeInn, where he drew rein and dismounted. At his call an aged ostlerhobbled out of a side door, chewing an inevitable straw, and aftereyeing the newcomer and his steed for an appreciable length of time,evidently decided that they were worthy of his attention, for he cameforward, remarking that it had been a pleasant day.
Carstares agreed with him, and volunteered the information that it wouldbe another fine day to-morrow, if the sunset were to be trusted. To thisthe ostler replied that he, for one, never trusted to no red sunsets,and added darkly that there warn't nothing so deceitful to his manner o'thinking. He'd known it be such a red sunset as never was, and yet bea-pouring with rain all next day.... Should he take the mare?
Carstares shook his head.
"No, I thank you. I remain here but a few moments. I doubt she's thirstythough--eh, Jenny?"
"Water, sir?"
"For her, yes. For myself I fancy a tankard of your home-brewed ale.Stand, Jenny!" He turned away and walked up the steps to the inn door.
"Be you a-going to leave her there, sir--a-standing all by herself?"inquired the man, surprised.
"Why, yes! She's docile enough."
"Well! Seems to me a risky thing to leave a hoss--and a skittish hoss atthat--a-standing loose in the road. Ye won't be tying her to a post,master?"
Carstares leaned his arms on the balustrade and looked down at them.
"I will not. She'd be very hurt at such treatment, wouldn't you, lass?"
Jenny tossed her head playfully, as if in agreement, and the ostlerscratched his head, looking from her to my lord:
"A'most seems as if she understands what you be a-saying to her, sir!"
"Of course she understands! Don't I tell you 'tis a clever little lady?If I call her now she'll come up these steps to me, and not all theostlers in Christendom could stop her."
"Don't'ee go for to do it, sir!" urged the old man, backing. "She mustbe uncommon fond o' ye?"
"She'd be a deal fonder of you if you'd fetch her a drink," hinted Jackbroadly.
"Ay, sir! I be a-going this werry instant!" And with many an anxiousglance over his shoulder at the perfectly quiet mare, he disappearedthrough an open doorway into the yard.
When Carstares, tankard of ale in hand, emerged from the inn and sathimself down on one of the benches that stood against the wall, themare was drinking thirstily from a bucket which the ancient one held forher.
"'Tis a wunnerful fine mare, sir," he remarked at length, after acareful inspection of her points.
Carstares nodded pleasantly, and surveyed Jenny through half-shut eyes.
"I think so every time I look at her," he said.
"I should think she could get a bit of a pace on her, sir? Mebbe ye'vetried her racing?"
"No, she wasn't brought up to that. But she's fast enough."
"Ay, sir. No vices?"
"Lord, no!"
"Don't kick neither?"
"Not with me."
"Ah! they allus knows who'll stand it and who won't."
Jack drained his tankard, and setting it down on the bench beside him,rose to his feet.
"She'd not dream of kicking a friend. Jenny!"
The ostler watched her pick her way towards her master, coquetting withher head, and sidling round him in the most playful manner possible. Aslow smile dawned on the man's face.
"Ah, it be a purty sight to watch her--so it be!" he said, and receiveda guinea from Jack, who never tired of listening to praise of hisbeloved Jenny.
Carstares remounted, nodded farewell to the ostler and rode leisurely ondown the street, soon branching off to the right into a typical Sussexlane, where he trotted between uneven hedges, sweet with blossom andwith May, and placid fields rolling away on either side, upwards untilthey merged into the undulating hills, barely discernible in the gloom,that are the downs. It was a wonderfully calm evening, with only agentle west wind blowing, and the moon already shining faintly in thedark sky. There was nothing beyond the sound of the mare's hoofs tobreak the beautiful stillness of it all.
He rode for some way without meeting a soul, and when at the end of anhour someone did chance along the road it was only a labourer returninghome to his supper after a long day in the fields. John bade him acheery good evening and watched him pass on down the road humming.
After that he met no one. He rode easily along for miles, into thefast-gathering darkness. He was frowning as he rode, thinking.
Curiously enough, it was on his penniless days in France that his minddwelt this evening. He had resolutely thrust that dark time behind him,determined to forget it, but there were still days when, try as hemight, he could not prevent his thoughts flying back to it.
With clenched teeth he recalled the days when he, the son of an Earl,had taught fencing in Paris for a living.... Suddenly he laughedharshly, and at the unusual sound the mare pricked up her ears andsidled uneasily across the road. For once no notice was taken of her,and she quickened her pace with a flighty toss of her head....
He thought how he, the extravagant John, had pinched and scraped andsaved rather than go under; how he had lived in one of the poorer_quartiers_ of the city, alone, without friends--nameless.
Then, cynically now, he reviewed the time when he had taken to drinking,heavily and systematically, and had succeeded in pulling himself up atthe very brink of the pit he saw yawning before him.
Next the news of his mother's death.... John passed over that quickly.Even now the thought of it had the power of rousing in him all the oldmisery and impotent resentment.
His mind sped on to his Italian days. On his savings he had travelled toFlorence, and from there he went gradually south, picking up all thelatest arts and subtleties of fence on the way.
The change of scene and of people did much to restore his spirits. Hisdevil-may-care ways peeped out again; he started to gamble on the littlemoney he had left. For once Fortune proved kind; he doubled a
nd trebledand quadrupled the contents of his purse. Then it was that he met JimSalter, whom he engaged as his servant. This was the first friend sincehe had left England. Together they travelled about Europe, John gamblinghis way, Jim keeping a relentless hand on the exchequer. It was entirelyowing to his watchfulness and care that John was not ruined, for hisluck did not always hold good, and there were days when he lost withdistressing steadiness. But Jim guarded the winnings jealously, andthere was always something to fall back on.
At last the longing for England and English people grew so acute thatJohn made up his mind to return. But he found that things in Englandwere very different from what they had been abroad. Here he was made tofeel acutely that he was outcast. It was impossible to live in townunder an assumed name, as he would like to have done, for too manypeople knew Jack Carstares, and would remember him. He saw that he musteither live secluded, or--and the idea of becoming a highwayman occurredto him. A hermit's existence he knew to be totally unsuited to a man ofhis temperament, but the free, adventurous spirit of the road appealedto him. The finding of his mare--J. the Third, as he laughingly dubbedher--decided the point; he forthwith took on himself the role ofquixotic highwayman, roaming his beloved South Country, happier than hehad been since he first left England; bit by bit regaining his youth andspirits, which last, not all the trouble he had been through hadsucceeded in extinguishing....
Clip-clap, clip-clop.... With a jerk he came back to earth and reined-inhis mare, the better to listen.
Along the road came the unmistakable sound of horses' hoofs, and thescrunch-scrunch of swiftly-revolving wheels on the sandy surface.
By now the moon was right out, but owing to the fact that she wasplaying at hide-and-seek in and out of the clouds, it was fairly dark.Nevertheless, Jack fastened his mask over his face with quick, deftfingers, and pulled his hat well over his eyes. His ears told him thatthe vehicle, whatever it was, was coming towards him, so he drew intothe side of the road, and taking a pistol from its holster, sat waiting,his eyes on the bend in the road.
Nearer and nearer came the horses, until the leader swung round thecorner. Carstares saw that it was an ordinary travelling chariot, andlevelled his pistol.
"Halt, or I fire!" He had to repeat the command before it was heard, andto ride out from the shadow of the hedge.
The chariot drew up and the coachman leaned over the side to see who itwas bidding them to stop in so peremptory a manner.
"What d'ye want? Who are ye? Is there aught amiss?" he cried testily,and found himself staring at a long-nosed pistol.
"Throw down your arms!"
"I ain't got none, blast ye!"
"On your honour?" Jack dismounted.
"Ay! Wish I had, and I'd see ye damned afore I'd throw 'em down!"
At this moment the door of the coach opened and a gentleman leaptlightly down on to the road. He was big and loose-limbed as far asCarstares could see, and carried himself with an easy grace.
My lord presented his pistol.
"Stand!" he ordered gruffly.
The moon peeped coyly out from behind a cloud and shed her light uponthe little group as if to see what all the fuss was about. The big man'sface was in the shadow, but Jack's pistol was not. Into its muzzle thegentleman gazed, one hand deep in the pocket of his heavy cloak, theother holding a small pistol.
"Me very dear friend," he said in a rich brogue, "perhaps ye are notaware that that same pistol ye are pointing at me is unloaded? Don'tmove; I have ye covered!"
Jack's arm fell to his side, and the pistol he held clattered to theground. But it was not surprise at Jim's defection that caused him thatviolent start. It was something far more overwhelming. For the voicethat proceeded from the tall gentleman belonged to one whom, six yearsago, he had counted, next to Richard, his greatest friend on earth.
The man moved a little, and the moonlight shone full on his face,clearly outlining the large nose and good-humoured mouth, and above, thesleepy grey eyes. Miles! Miles O'Hara! For once Jack could find nothingamusing in the situation. It was too inconceivably hideous that heshould meet his friend in this guise, and, further, be unable to revealhimself. A great longing to tear off his mask and to grasp Miles' handassailed him. With an effort he choked it down and listened to whatO'Hara was saying:
"If ye will be so kind as to give me your word of honour ye'll not beafther trying to escape, I should be greatly obliged. But I tell yefirst that if ye attempt to move, I shall shoot."
Jack made a hopeless gesture with his hand. He felt dazed. The wholething was ridiculous; how Miles would laugh afterwards. He went cold.There would be no "afterwards".... Miles would never know.... He wouldbe given over to the authorities, and Miles would never know that he hadhelped Jack Carstares to the scaffold.... Perhaps, too, he would notmind so very much, now that he, Jack, was so disgraced. One could nevertell; even if he risked everything now, and told his true identity,Miles might turn away from him in disgust; Miles, who could never stoopto a dishonourable act. Carstares felt that he would bear anythingsooner than face this man's scorn....
"Never tell me 'tis a dumb man ye are, for I heard ye shout meself! Doye give me your word of honour, or must I have ye bound?"
Carstares pulled himself together and set his teeth as he faced theinevitable. Escape was impossible; Miles would shoot, he felt sure, andthen his disguise would be torn away and his friend would see that JackCarstares was nothing but a common highwayman. Whatever happened, thatmust not be, for the sake of the name and Richard. So he quietly heldout his hands.
"Ay, I give my word, but ye can bind me if ye choose." It was hishighwayman voice: raucous, and totally unlike his own.
But O'Hara's eyes were fixed on the slender white hands held out to him.In his usual haphazard fashion, Jack had quite forgotten to grime hishands. They were shapely and white, and carefully manicured.
Miles took either wrist in his large hands and turned them palm upwardsin the moonlight.
"Singularly white hands ye have, for one in your profession," hedrawled, and tightened his hold as Jack tried to draw them away. "No, yedo not! Now be so good as to step within, me friend."
Jack held back an instant.
"My mare?" he asked, and O'Hara noted the anxiety in his voice.
"Ye need not be after worrying about her," he said. "George!" Thefootman sprang forward.
"Yessir?"
"Ye see that mare? I want ye to ride her home. Can ye do it?"
"Yessir!"
"I doubt it," murmured Jack.
So did Jenny. She refused point blank to allow this stranger to mounther. Her master had left her in one spot, and there she would standuntil he chose to bid her move. In vain did the groom coax and coerce.She ran round him and seemed a transformed creature. She laid her earsflat and gnashed at the bit, ready to lash out furiously at the firstopportunity.
Jack watched the man's futile struggles with the ghost of a smile abouthis lips.
"Jenny!" he said quietly, and O'Hara looked round at him sharply,frowning. Unconsciously, he had spoken naturally, and the voice wasfaintly familiar.
Jenny twitched the bridle from the perspiring groom and minced up to theprisoner.
"Would ye allow me to have a hand free--sir?" he asked. "Mebbe I canmanage her."
Without a word Miles released him, and he caught the bridle, murmuringsomething unintelligible to the now quiet animal.
O'Hara watched the beautiful hand stroke her muzzle reassuringly, andfrowned again. No ordinary highwayman this.
"Mount her now, will 'ee?" Jack flung at the groom, and kept a warninghand on the rein as the man obeyed. With a final pat he turned away."She'll do now, sir."
O'Hara nodded.
"Ye've trained her well. Get in, please."
Jack obeyed, and in a minute or two O'Hara jumped in after him, and thecoach began to move forward.
For a while there was silence, Carstares keeping himself well undercontrol. It was almost unbearable to think that after this brief driv
ehe would never set eyes on his friend again, and he wanted so badly toturn and grasp that strong hand....
Miles turned in his seat and tried to see the masked face in thedarkness.
"Ye are a gentleman?" he asked, going straight to the point.
Jack was prepared for this.
"Me, sir? Lor' no, sir!"
"I do not believe ye. Don't be forgettin' I've seen your hands!"
"Hands, sir?" in innocent bewilderment.
"Sure, ye don't think I'd be believing ye an ordinary rogue, with handslike that?"
"I don't rightly understand ye, sir?"
"Bejabers then, ye'll be understanding me tomorrow!"
"To-morrow, sir?"
"Certainly. Ye may as well tell me now as then. I'm not such a daft foolas I look, and I know a gentleman when I see one, even an he does growlat me as you do!" he chuckled. "And I'd an odd feeling I knew ye when yespoke to the mare. I'd be loth to send a friend to the gallows."
How well Jack knew that soft, persuasive voice. His hands clenched as heforced himself to answer:
"I don't think I've ever seen ye afore, sir."
"Maybe ye have not. We shall see to-morrow."
"What do ye mean by to-morrow, sir?" ventured Carstares uneasily.
"Sure, ye will have the honour of appearing before me, me friend."
"Before _you_, sir?"
"Why not? I'm a Justice of the Peace, heaven save the mark!"
There was a breathless pause, and then at last the funny side of itstruck Jack, and his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Theexquisite irony of it was almost too much for him. He, the Earl ofWyncham, was to be formally questioned by his friend Sir Miles O'Hara,J.P.!
"What ails ye now, man? Ye find it amusing?" asked Miles, surprised.
"Oh, Lud, yes!" gasped Jack, and collapsed into his corner.