Part 44 (2/2)
As to Patience herself, at first a great, an overwhelming joy and pride had seized her at the thought that he was near her now, that he had not deserted her in the hour of her greatest need, that once again he had interposed his magnetic, powerful personality between her and the danger which threatened her and Philip.
It was only when the Sergeant's momentous words, ”I arrest you in the name of the King!” rang out clearly and decisively above the loud tumult which was beating in her heart, that she became aware of the deadly peril which threatened the man she loved.
True, he had come once more between her and danger, but once again he had done it at risk of his life, and was like at last to lay it down for her.
She had been standing a little to one side, turning, as all had done, toward the elegant, foppish figure in the fine clothes and dainty ruffles of lace, but now she stepped forward with mad, unreasoning impulse, thrusting herself between him and the Sergeant, and trying to s.h.i.+eld him behind the folds of her cloak.
”No! no! no! no!” she said excitedly. ”Sergeant, 'tis all a mistake! ...
I swear...”
But already Jack Bathurst had bent forward, and had contrived to whisper, unheard by all save her,-
”Hush-sh-your brother ... remember his danger...”
”Your pardon, lady,” said the Sergeant, seeing that she paused, irresolute, not knowing what to do in face of this terrible alternative which was confronting her. ”Your pardon, lady, but this gentleman is Philip, Earl of Stretton, is he not?”
”For your brother's sake,” whispered Bathurst once more.
”No ... yes ... Oh! my G.o.d!” murmured Patience, in the agony of this appalling misery.
Her brother or the man she loved. One or the other betrayed by one word from her, now at this moment, with no time to pray to G.o.d for help or guidance, no chance of giving her own life for both!
”Out on you, friend,” said Bathurst, lightly, ”do you not see her ladys.h.i.+p is upset. Nay! have no fear, I'll follow you quietly!” he added, seeing that the Sergeant and soldiers were making a motion to surround him, ”but you'll grant me leave to say farewell to my sister?”
The Sergeant could not very well refuse. He was at heart a humane man, and now that he was sure of this important capture, he would have done a good deal to ingratiate himself, through little acts of courtesy, with Lady Patience Gascoyne.
However, he had no mind to be tricked again, and in face of an almost immediate execution for high treason, the prisoner seemed extraordinarily self-possessed and cheerful. But for her ladys.h.i.+p's obvious despair and sorrow, the worthy Sergeant might even now have had some misgivings.
As it was, he told off three men to mount the stairs, and to stand on guard at the top of them, in case the prisoner made a dash that way, in the hopes of reaching the roof. The Sergeant still kept an idea in his mind that some supernatural agency was at work in favour of this extraordinary man, who up to now had seemed to bear a charmed life. He had the little narrow pa.s.sage and hall of the inn cleared of the gaping yokels, who went off one by one, scratching their addled polls, wondering what it all meant, and who was Beau Brocade. Was he the Earl of Stretton? was he the highwayman? or some pixie from the Heath with power to change himself at will?
Sir Humphrey Challoner retired within the shadow of the stairway. On the whole he preferred to leave the events to shape their own course.
In one way Fate had befriended him. Whether hanged in his own name or in that of the Earl of Stretton, the highwayman would within the next few hours be safely out of the way, and then it would be easier no doubt to obtain possession of the letters once again.
He too like the Sergeant and soldiers, felt an instinctive dread of supernatural agency in connection with Beau Brocade. In these days there existed still a deeply-rooted belief in witchcraft, and the educated cla.s.ses were not altogether proof against the popular superst.i.tions.
Sir Humphrey had a curious, intense hatred for the man who had so chivalrously championed Lady Patience's cause. His own love for her was so selfish and l.u.s.tful that overpowering jealousy formed its chief characteristic. He was frantically, madly jealous of Jack Bathurst, for with the keen eyes of the scorned suitor, he had noted the look of joy and pride in her face when the young man first appeared on the stairs, and he alone of all those present knew how to interpret her obvious despair, her terrible misery, when brought face to face with the awful alternative of giving up her brother or the man she loved.
Sir Humphrey swore some heavy oaths under his breath at thought of the scorn with which she had rejected him. Womanlike, she had yielded to the blandishments of that thief, and proud Lady Patience Gascoyne had fallen in love with a highwayman!
But now Fate meant to be kind to Sir Humphrey. With that chivalrous c.o.xcomb out of the way, Lady Patience would be once more at his mercy.
Philip was still a fugitive under the ban of attainder, and the letters could be got hold of once again, unless indeed the devil, with an army of witches and evil sprites, came to the a.s.sistance of that rascal Beau Brocade.
CHAPTER x.x.xV
QUITS
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