Part 25 (2/2)
Some instinct of security held me silent, and after a little I dragged myself painfully along the stone floor, until I had my ear at the c.h.i.n.k. The halberdiers were certainly not of the party; they had either not yet entered, or else had come and, failing to discover these men's place of concealment, had gone. A man was speaking; a jovial rough voice it was, interrupted now and again by careless laughter.
”You mind me of that tale of the two robbers,” said the fellow, and I heard the clink of a cup set down, ”that were engaged to set upon a certain Canon who should pa.s.s through the wood they lurked within. Now a pa.s.senger approaching, the one was for killing him out of hand, but his companion, being something scrupulous, would not, but bade him stay his hand until the man should sing.
”'I care not a jot how he sing,' says the Captain-robber.
”'Nay, by his singing I can tell in a trice whether he be a canon or no,' says the robber-squire.
”By this the pa.s.senger was got free of their ambush and into a place where two sheriff's men met him, at which he swore for mere joy.
”'I would he had sung,' says the squire.
”'Go to, buffle-head!' cries the other in a great rage, 'for by his swearing I know him for the Father Abbot himself, and better your squealing Canon, by how much noon-sun surpa.s.ses candle-light.'”
A round of hoa.r.s.e merriment went to this shrewd apologue, of which I was yet to learn the application; but waited not long for it.
”So then, Cutts, 'hold to that you have,' is your advice, trow?”
”Ay, abbot or traitor, or barndoor fowl,” replied Cutts (who was none other, I found, than he that had fled away from Dunster so long since); ”'truss and lay by,' says the housewife.”
”Well, you have me trussed already,” said a mild voice, that for all its stillness overbore the murmurs which greeted Cutts his policy; and at the sound of it I caught in my breath, for 'twas my uncle that spoke, and by his words I knew they had him bound.
”I am not in case to do you harm, as a traitor, nor yet to benefit you as an abbot,” my uncle proceeded very coolly. ”But if it seem good to your wors.h.i.+ps to restore me my freedom, I have my proofs of innocence at hand to show to any that professes to doubt my faith.”
”Too late for that, Master Skene,” said another.
”Ay, Captain Spurrier, say you so?” returned my uncle, with a little menacing thrill in the sweet of his voice. ”I had thought you that use the sea knew that one must luff and tack upon occasion. Delay is sometimes necessary, when haste would mean sudden s.h.i.+pwreck. Wherefore then do you say I speak too late?”
”Where is Malpas?” cried Captain Spurrier, and by the grating of a chair I perceived he had started to his feet.
”I had thought to meet him here,” said my uncle. ”Our design stays for him.”
There was a dead pause at that, and I could not but admire the fort.i.tude with which the baited man met and countered his opposites.
”He denounced you to this council, ere he went forth,” said that subtle voice of the tavern-server, ”and upon such positive testimony as we could not but allow it. If any lead this enterprise it is Malpas, and not thou, old fox.”
”So thou use better terms, friend Jocelin,” said Cleeve, ”it shall not be amiss, nor yet if thou answer me why it was I returned freely hither amongst you all? Had I aught to gain from you? But rather had I not all to lose? There is a warrant out against me on the Queen's part; had I not done wisely, being so disguised as no man might know me, to avoid this suspected house? Yet I returned. Our s.h.i.+p is to sail to-morrow. Captain Spurrier is here in his place. What lacks of our engagement? What hath gone untowardly? Is it Malpas his failure? I ask of you in my turn, where is Malpas? Is it not strange that upon such a night he should not be here to bear his part, as I do, and Lucas Spurrier and Jocelin, and the rest? I say there is something I like not in this defection; but yet it fears me not. Let them that be faint-hearted stay away; this enterprise is not for cowards. Do you lack a leader? You trusted me once. Malpas trusted me, for all he cozened you into a belief that he did not so; but he is gone.” He paused, and then with so strangely intense a malignancy as, despite my knowledge, I could scarce credit that 'twas a.s.sumed, he added: ”Would that I knew whither Guido Malpas hath gone, and what to do!”
There was such clamour of contrary opinions, oaths and hot argument, when he had done, that I could not tell how it went, but gradually conceived the opinion that they believed him and were about to set him free, when, to my utter dismay, I heard the door at the stairhead open and heavy steps descend to the pa.s.sage where I lay concealed. I crouched down on the instant, but dared not move from the place, nor indeed had the opportunity to retreat by one step, when the men were already in the room; but so dark it was I could not see their arms (for I doubted nothing of their being the halberdiers) nor their numbers that entered. They set the door open of the inner vault and trooped in upon the conspirators.
I saw them now. They were men that bore a body. The tide had set in again. The boat with its burden had returned upon the flood.
CHAPTER XXII
HOW MY UNCLE BOTOLPH LOST HIS LUCK
The tide had turned. The river had given up its dead. There was no appeal from this distorted corpse, smirched with yellow so about the throat and breast, where my uncle's painted hands had gripped him.
Wedged deep in the dead man's heart (I heard it said) a certain significant shred of blue silk was found that had been drawn in by the swinging blade, and torn from the murderer's sleeve.... After that there needed nothing more, and my uncle's luck, which a moment since had trembled to its apogee, shot downward like a portent star.
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