Part 38 (1/2)

It was eight by the clock next morning before I set about my third commission. To begin with, the bed pulled, and small wonder, since I had not slept in a bed since leaving home. Then I took my fill of the books, finding among them no less a prize than the _editio princeps_ of Virgil, printed at Rome in 1469, which it was hard to let go. Next there was Baby Blount to be waited upon, and his mother, a pretty, appealing lady, with the glory of motherhood about her like a fairy garment. Part of the ceremonial was the putting of Master Blount into my arms, which was done very gingerly, with abundant cautions and precautions against my crus.h.i.+ng or dropping him. He had a skin like white satin and a silvery down on his charming little head. Altogether I thought him a most desirable possession for a man to have, and wished he was mine, particularly when, to his father's outspoken chagrin, instead of puling he stared steadily at me with big blue eyes and smiled.

”Precious ikkle ducksy-wucksy,” said his mother.

”Ugly ikkle monkey-wonkey,” cried his father. ”Why the deuce can't he smile at me?”

”Try him!” said I, handing him over to Sir James, glad to be free of the responsibility.

Baby Blount looked at his father and smiled again, and it was a revelation to me of the deepest and finest feelings of a man's heart to see how ravished Sir James was with this first smile of his baby boy's.

”It's you that's changed, James, not our little darling,” said his wife.

”He'll always smile at a face as happy as yours is this morning.”

I lingered through these delightful moments over an old book and a new baby with an easy conscience, for Master Freake had brought me news which made my third task much easier. I had not told him what I had in hand to do, thinking it unfair to force the knowledge on him, but he must have made a good guess at it, for he came to tell me that the latest news from Stone was that the Duke was moving south again at top speed, with the intention of getting between the Prince and London if he could. He told me further that Charles had joined Murray at Ashbourne in the small hours, and that their reunited forces had started out for Derby. In all these important matters he was, as is obvious enough now, fully and exactly informed, and I expressed my admiration of his thoroughness.

”Business, my dear Oliver, nothing but business. Some great man of old time has said 'Knowledge is power.' I'm expanding that a little to fit these modern days. That's all.”

”How does the maxim run now, sir?”

”Knowledge is money and money is power,” said he, with a dry smile.

Then, as to matters small in themselves but of more immediate concern to me, he told me that his man, Dot Gibson, had reported that the spy, Weir, had at an early hour ridden off towards Stafford, while the sergeant of dragoons was still lurking at the ”Black Swan.” There had been long consultations between them as if they were acting in concert.

This was likely to be the case. It was a noteworthy fact that the spy had seen me, and had had an opportunity of denouncing me, before Master Freake had bowled him over. There was, therefore, reason to suppose that he would in any case have remained silent about me--the one man against whom his evidence was overwhelming. The sergeant of dragoons would, of course, be only too glad to see me out of action, dead for choice, but in jail as a useful alternative, yet the opportunity of putting me there had been let slip. I could not, try how I would, work out any reasonable explanation of their conduct.

I bade good-bye to the Grange, going off with a pressing invitation in my ears to return as soon as possible. Master Freake walked at my saddle till we were out of earshot of the group in the open doorway.

”We meet again at Derby, Oliver,” he said, holding out his hand.

”That's good news, sir. I shall be there by six o'clock to-night.”

”Keep a good look out for the sergeant. He and his precious master mean to have you if they can. They've a heavy score against you, lad.”

”It will be heavier before the account's settled, sir.”

”You shall have your tilt at 'em, Oliver. You'll enjoy it, and I've no fear as to the result. But take care! Ride in the middle of the road, and keep your eye on every bush. Brocton has half a regiment of thorough-paced blackguards at his service and will compa.s.s h.e.l.l itself to fetch you down.

What about money?”

”I've plenty and to spare,” I answered, ”thanks to your generous loan.”

”No loan, lad, but my first contribution to the expenses of--what shall we say for safety? Your tour. How will that do?”

”Nay, sir--”

”Yea. Oliver, and no more said. My favourite rate is ten per cent. You've let me off with a paltry two.”

”I do not like joking in money matters, sir.”

”John Freake joking in money matters?” said he, smiling. ”Tell it not when you get to town, Oliver, or you'll be the ruin of a hard-won reputation. I sent you sixty guineas odd.”

”Yes, sir.”