Part 9 (1/2)
”'And three merry men, and three merry men, And three merry men are we, As ever did sing three parts in a string, All under the gallows tree.'
”If I have to get up in the milkman hours, begad, when that day comes I'll make it a point to be at Tyburn to see your promotion over the heads of humdrum honest folks,” he drawled, and at the tail of his speech yawned in our faces.
”We'll send you cards to the entertainment when that happy day arrives,”
laughed Creagh, delighted of course at the aplomb of the Macaroni.
Donald Roy came up to ask what should be done with Watkins. It appeared that Volney had mistaken him for one of us and let fly at him. The fellow lay groaning on the ground as if he were on the edge of expiration. I stooped and examined him. 'Twas a mere flesh scratch.
”Nothing the matter but a punctured wing. All he needs is a kerchief round his arm,” I said.
Captain Macdonald looked disgusted and a little relieved.
”'Fore G.o.d, he deaved (deafened) me with his yammering till I thought him about to s.h.i.+p for the other world. These Englishers make a geyan work about nothing.”
For the moment remembrance of Volney had slipped from our minds. As I rose to my feet he stepped forward. Out flashed his sword and ripped the mask from my face.
”Egad, I thought so,” he chuckled. ”My young friend Montagu repairing his fallen fortunes on the road! Won't you introduce me to the other gentlemen, or would they rather remain incog? Captain Claude Duval, your most obedient! Sir d.i.c.k Turpin, yours to command! Delighted, 'pon my word, to be rum-padded by such distinguished--er--knights of the road.”
”The honour is ours,” answered Creagh gravely, returning his bow, but the Irishman's devil-may-care eyes were dancing.
”A strange fortuity, in faith, that our paths have crossed so often of late, Montagu. Now I would lay something good that our life lines will not cross more than once more.”
”Why should we meet at all again?” I cried. ”Here is a piece of good turf under the moonlight. 'Twere a pity to lose it.”
He appeared to consider. ”As you say, the turf is all that is to be desired and the light will suffice. Why not? We get in each other's way confoundedly, and out of doubt will some day have to settle our little difference. Well then, if 'twere done 'twere well done quickly. Faith, Mr.
Montagu, y'are a man after my own heart, and it gives me a vast deal of pleasure to accept your proposal. Consider me your most obedient to command and prodigiously at your service.”
Raffish and flamboyant, he lounged forward to the window of the carriage.
”I beg a thousand pardons, sweet, for leaving you a few minutes alone,” he said with his most silken irony. ”I am desolated at the necessity, but this gentleman has a claim that cannot be ignored. Believe me, I shall make the absence very short. Dear my life, every instant that I am from you is s.n.a.t.c.hed from Paradise. Fain would I be with you alway, but stern duty”--the villain stopped to draw a plaintive and theatric sigh--”calls me to attend once for all to a matter of small moment. Anon I shall be with you, life of my life.”
She looked at him as if he were the dirt beneath her feet, and still he smiled his winsome smile, carrying on the mock pretense that she was devoted to him.
”Ah, sweet my heart!” he murmured. ”'Twere cheap to die for such a loving look from thee. All Heaven lies in it. 'Tis better far to live for many more of such.”
There was a rush of feet and a flash of steel. Donald Roy leaped forward just in time, and next moment Hamish Gorm lay stretched on the turf, muttering Gaelic oaths and tearing at the sod with his dirk in an impotent rage. Sir Robert looked down at the prostrate man with his inscrutable smile.
”Your friend from the Highlands is in a vast hurry, Montagu. He can't even wait till you have had your chance to carve me. Well, are you ready to begin the argument?”
”Quite at your command. There is a bit of firm turf beyond the oaks. If you will lead the way I shall be with you anon.”
”Lud! I had forgot. You have your adieux to make to the lady. Pray do not let me hurry you,” he said urbanely, as he picked his way daintily through the mud.
When he had gone I turned to the girl.
”You shall be quit of him,” I told her. ”You may rely on my friends if--if the worst happens. They will take you to Montagu Grange, and my brother Charles will push on with you to Scotland. In this country you would not be safe from him while he lives.”
Her face was like the snow.