Part 35 (1/2)
Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud, imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose a.s.sertion brooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else could reach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voice of M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of England.
”Brother,” he cried, ”by my faith in G.o.d, this gentleman is innocent, and his life is on our heads, if he lose it.”
I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. The figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silence encompa.s.sed me, and all was gone.
CHAPTER XV
M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS
Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M.
de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes, firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent and caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to suspect him?
There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have come on Phineas.
”We found the two together,” he was saying, ”this man and Mr Dale's servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in front of the house that I have named----”
”Yes, yes, enough of the house,” interrupted the King impatiently.
”In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once, the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough, and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him, but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now.”
I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came from behind my chair.
”That man must be pursued,” said M. de Perrencourt. ”Who knows that there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there not have been others in the wicked scheme?”
”True, true,” said the King uneasily. ”We must lay this Jonah Wall by the heels. What's known of him?”
Thinking the appeal was made to me, I strove to rise. M. de Perrencourt's arm reached over the back of my chair and kept me down. I heard Darrell take up the story and tell what he knew--and it was as much as I knew--of Jonah Wall, and what he knew of Phineas Tate also.
”It is a devilish plot,” said the King, who was still greatly shaken and perturbed.
Then Phineas spoke loudly, boldly, and with a voice full of the rapturous fanaticism which drowned conscience and usurped in him religion's place.
”Here,” he cried, ”are the plots, here are the devilish plots! What do you here? Aye, what do you plot here? Is this man's life more than G.o.d's Truth? Is G.o.d's Word to be lost that the sins and debauchery of this man may continue?”
His long lean forefinger pointed at the King. A mute consternation fell for an instant on them all, and none interrupted him. They had no answer ready for his question; men do not count on such questions being asked at Court, the manners are too good there.
”Here are the plots! I count myself blessed to die in the effort to thwart them! I have failed, but others shall not fail! G.o.d's Judgment is sure. What do you here, Charles Stuart?”
M. de Perrencourt walked suddenly and briskly round to where the King sat and whispered in his ear. The King nodded, and said,
”I think this fellow is mad, but it's a dangerous madness.”
Phineas did not heed him, but cried aloud,
”And you here--are you all with him? Are you all apostates from G.o.d? Are you all given over to the superst.i.tions of Rome? Are you all here to barter G.o.d's word and----”
The King sprang to his feet.
”I won't listen,” he cried. ”Stop his cursed mouth. I won't listen.” He looked round with fear and alarm in his eyes. I perceived his gaze turned towards his son and Buckingham. Following it, I saw their faces alight with eagerness, excitement, and curiosity. Arlington looked down at the table; Clifford leant his head on his hand. At the other end the Duke of York had sprung up like his brother, and was glaring angrily at the bold prisoner. Darrell did not wait to be bidden twice, but whipped a silk handkerchief from his pocket.