Part 27 (1/2)

”Oh, that would be too good!” she exclaimed. ”Too good; but I fear it can never be.”

She put her fingers to her lips, as the door again opened. The old woman entered, carrying some clothes.

”Here,” she said; ”they have gone out; put these on, Zita and I will go out and see if the coast is clear.”

Harry, smiling to himself at the singularity of his having twice to disguise himself as a gypsy, rapidly changed his clothes. Presently the old woman returned.

”Quick,” she exclaimed; ”I hear that the news of the riot in the drinking-house has got about this morning, and it is known that an Englishman, something like the one seen in the lanes, took Zita's part, and there are suspicions that it was she who acted as his guide. They have been roughly questioning us. I told her to go on to avoid suspicion, while I ran back. You cannot stir out now, and I heard a talk of searching our rooms. Come, then, we may find a room unoccupied below; you must take refuge there for the present.”

Harry still retained his sword, incongruous as it was with his attire, but he had determined to hide it under his clothes, so that, if detected, he might be able at least to sell his life. Taking it in his hand, he followed the old woman downstairs. She listened at each door, and continued downward until she reached the first floor.

”I can hear no one here,” she said, listening at a door. ”Go up a few steps; I will knock. If any one is there I can make some excuse.”

She knocked, but there was no answer. Then she drew from her pocket a piece of bent wire, and inserted it in the keyhole.

”We gypsies can enter where we will,” she said, beckoning Harry to enter as the door opened. ”Wait quiet here till I come for you. The road will be clear then.” So saying, she closed the door behind him, and again shot the bolt.

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable. Should the owner of the room return, he would be taken for a thief, although, as he thought, looking round the room, there was little enough to steal. It was a large room, with several truckle beds standing against the walls. In the center was a table, upon which were some mugs, horns, and empty bottles, with some dirty cards scattered about. The place smelled strongly of tobacco, and benches lying on the ground showed that the party of the night before had ended in a broil, further evidence to which was given by stains of blood on one of the beds, and by a rag saturated with blood, which lay beside it. At one side of the room was a door, giving communication into the next apartment. Scarcely had Harry entered when he heard voices there, and was surprised to find that the speakers were English.

”I tell you I'm sick of this,” one of the speakers said. ”I might be as well hanged at home as starved here.”

”You might enlist,” another voice said, in sneering tones. ”Gallant soldiers are welcome in the Low Countries.”

”You'd best keep your sneering tongue between your lips,” the other said angrily. ”If I don't care for fighting in the field, I can use a knife at a pinch, as you know full well. You will carry your gibes too far with me some day. No,” he went on more calmly, after a pause, ”I shall go back to England next week, after Marmaduke Harris and his gang have finished Oliver, The country will be turned so topsy-turvy that there will be no nice inquiry into bygones, and at any rate I can keep out of London.”

”Yes, it will be wise to do that,” the other said, since that little affair when the mercer and his wife in Cheap were found with their throats cut, and you--”

”Fire and furies! John Marlow, do you want three inches of steel in your ribs?”

”By no means!” the other answered. ”You have become marvelously straightlaced all at once. As you know, I have been concerned in as many affairs as you have. Aha! I have had a merry time of it!”

”And may again,” the other said. ”Noll once dead, there will be good times for us again. It is a pity that you and I were too well known to have a hand in the job. Dost think there is any chance of a failure?”

”None,” the other replied. ”It is in good hands. Black Harry has bribed a cook wench, who will open the back door. They say he was to return to London this week, and if so Sunday is fixed for the affair. Five days yet, and say another week for the news to get here. In a fortnight we will be on our way to England. There, I am thirsty, and we left the bottle in the next room. We had a late night of it with the boys there.”

During this conversation, to which Harry listened breathlessly, he had heard the tramp of feet going upstairs, and just as they finished speaking these had descended again. A moment later the door between the two rooms opened, and a man in the faded finery of a Royalist gentleman entered.

”Fires and furies!” he exclaimed. ”Whom have we here? Marlow, here is an eavesdropper or a thief. We will slit his weasand. Aha!” he said, gazing fixedly at Harry, ”you are Colonel Furness. I know you. You had me flogged the day before Worcester, for helping myself to an old woman's purse. It is my turn now.”

Joined by his fellow ruffian he fell upon Harry, but they were no match for the Royalist colonel. After a few rapid thrusts and parries he ran his first a.s.sailant through the body and cut down the man called Marlow, with a sweeping blow which nearly cleft his head asunder.

Scarcely was the conflict ended when the door opened, and the old gypsy entered. She started at seeing the bodies of the two ruffians.

”I have been attacked,” Harry said briefly, ”and have defended myself.”

”It is no business of mine,” the old woman remarked. ”When I have guided you out I will come back again. It's strange if there's not something worth picking up. Now, pull your hat well over your eyes and follow me.”

Closing and locking the door again, she led the way downstairs.

”Do not walk so straight and stiff,” she said. ”Slouch your shoulders, and stoop your head. Now.”