Part 22 (1/2)
”Even as you were licensed to read his.”
”And may do so yet,” said I, galled beyond restraint by his gibing.
”I think you something misapprehend the matter,” said Malpas, with a malignant affectation of patience, ”or have forgot that I said you were to be detained here. In what fas.h.i.+on you shall go forth, I have not yet decided, but be a.s.sured it will not be to do a mischief, Mr. Denis.
There be other interests must be first consulted thereabout, and order taken.”
I went over to the hearth, and sitting down upon the settle, strove to get my position clear in my mind. That I was to be kept here until the rest of the conspirators should be a.s.sembled to try me, I understood well enough from Malpas his words; though of whom this council of treason should consist, I could not guess, except that Spurrier himself were one, and probably Skene. To escape I judged was impossible every way; partly because I was entered into the very home and chosen fortress of these plotters, of which the retiredness and neglected condition sufficiently secured it from the vigilance of the watch, and partly because I was a prize too valuable to be let slip. I considered that, besides Malpas, there were certainly others in that house, pledged to my ward, and answerable for me to him. Of Malpas I knew enough, as well from that the poet had told me of the thieves' Captain, how he killed out of hand any that dared disobey him, as also from my own observance of his behaviour, to stand in little doubt of the upshot of my business, how it would go. Nevertheless, I do not remember to have had any extraordinary fear; none, I know, comparable with that palsied terror I suffered when the mutineers came first upon the stairs in the night. Perhaps it was the knowledge that formerly when we were matched together I had come off happily, and left Malpas with so deep a thrust as even now he went limping withal.
Immersed in such reflections, I did not note the pa.s.sage of time, and was surprised when a little neat fellow, dressed like an ordinary tavern-server, entered, bearing a tray with cheese on and a loaf and a pot of good foaming ale.
”Is it poisoned?” said I.
”Poisoned? Sir--in this house!” cried he, starting back from the table. ”Your wors.h.i.+p must be ignorant whither you have come--to the _Fair Haven_ of Wapping, where all is sound provend and of the best come to port.”
”Is it so, indeed, Master Jocelin?” I returned, for I had immediately recognized, in this meek servitor, my old acquaintance of the hostelry over against Baynards Castle. ”And how goes it with that fat lump of dough you were to set the yeast of your wit to work in?”
But without the flicker of an eyelid, he answered me: ”Jocelin is my name, sir; but as to your dough and your yeast, I understand nothing of your meaning.”
I could not withhold my laughter at his recovered innocence any better than I did before at the manifest lapse of it; and laughing still, I watched him put down my breakfast and depart. I fell to with a will after that, and having a wholesome fondness for food, had soon made an end of that meal, which, as Master Jocelin had said, was as good as needs be. The whiles I was eating, my mind wandered oddly away to old Peter Sprot, at home, whose sober admonition to me of the dietary I should follow in London, I had until now (I fear) given no thought to, but judged that I must even yet awhile delay the exact observance of it.
Now it chanced that, looking up when I had about done, I saw Malpas regarding me very earnestly, and with a manner as though he would have asked me something, but apart from the tenour of our late conversation.
Marvelling what this should be, I kept silence: which 'twas not long ere he broke, by saying--
”If you confess yourself vanquished and overborne in this business, Master Cleeve, as I suppose you can scarce otherwise, I upon my part am willing enough to allow that you came off victorious otherwhiles; so that thus far we may cry quits. If there be no love lost between us, there need be no petty rancours nor jealousies, and I am honest enough to say that, now I have lost her, I wish you well of your suit to Mistress Avenon.”
”Where is she now?” cried I, starting up.
”Nay, if you know not,” said Malpas, ”how should I?”
I sat down quite out of heart, for I saw, whether he had news or no, he was still for fencing. Malpas came nearer, and bending low over the table where I sat, laid his two hands upon it, and said--
”You cannot be ignorant that this affair is like to end badly for you, Mr. Denis, and I am partly glad of it, but partly sorry too. Now, I pray you to be open with me; for if I choose I may help you, seeing I have some direction in this place, and of the occasions it is used for.
Judging from such things as you have seen doing, upon whose part do you suppose Mr. Skene to stand in these negotiations with Spain? Oh, keep your admiration!” said he, with a sudden sneer. ”The reading of your packet makes away all scruples to be longer secret. That there be such negotiations you know as well as I; though of how far they stretch, or who be deep in, I say nothing. All I require at your hands, is that you say frankly whether Skene is on the Queen's part, or upon ours?”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”You cannot be ignorant that this affair is like to end badly for you, Mr. Denis.” Chapter XIX]
”You acknowledge your part to be contrary to Her Majesty's, then?”
”I said so. Now as you answer me, I swear I will deal with you. I will fling the door wide and let you go forth freely to Mistress Idonia, whose present hiding-place I know; or else I will deliver you over to those who shall choke your discretion in your fool's throat.”
”Your treason hath not commenced so well,” said I, leaning back from the table, ”that hath begun in distrust of each other.”
”Be not over long about it,” said Malpas darkly; ”I am not used to repeat my offers, that, moreover, you see are abundantly generous.”
”So generous,” I replied, ”that I doubt their worth.”
”They be surely worth more,” said my captor, upon whose brow the blue veins stood out, so sharp a curb did he put upon his mood; ”they be of more worth to you, a thousandfold, than the favour or disfavour of that d.a.m.ned, cogging, glib-spoken traitor, your uncle.”
He had let it slip at last! My uncle Botolph and Skene were one. And here, beyond belief, I held 'twixt my naked finger and thumb the steelyard by which my uncle's fate should be weighed, who had crossed me at every turn. A word of mine, and he that had first ruined my father's life, and after had robbed him of his fortune, might be contemptuously blotted out, as a man blots out some gross error in a letter he has writ; for that was how Malpas would serve him, could I bring myself to say he stood for the Queen. A little word spoken, and he was condemned, but I was free ... I and Idonia!
Indeed, it was clear justice, both to myself and to my uncle. For I was not to name the man a traitor to his Sovereign; rather, to speak well of him, as I expected a man should do of me. It was (now I was come to think on't) mere decency that I should not be dumb in my uncle's praise whom I had never had any, or at the least overt, cause to mistrust. Put the case the other way; that I thought my uncle's conduct treasonable. Should I denounce him to the Lord Treasurer and the Council? I knew I should not. Should I then denounce him to Malpas for the contrary cause, and upon the slight grounds I had, as of the confession he made to me when the Jesuit was found in hiding in his house? No, certainly.