Part 46 (1/2)
”The letters! ... Before His Royal Highness! ... Thank G.o.d! ... Thank G.o.d!...”
Then suddenly she drew herself up, and laughing, crying, joyous, happy, she flew upstairs shouting,-
”Philip!-Philip!-come down!-come down! ... you are safe!...”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI
THE AGONY OF PARTING
About half an hour ago, when Jack Bathurst suddenly burst in upon Lord Stretton in the dingy little parlour upstairs, he gave the lad no inkling of what was happening down below. He had hastily discarded Jock Miggs's smock and hat and extracted a solemn promise from Philip not to stir from the parlour, whatever might be the tumult downstairs.
Then he had left the boy chafing like a wild beast in its cage. The heavy oak doors and thick walls of the old-fas.h.i.+oned inn deadened all the sounds from below, and Bathurst had taken the precaution of locking the door behind him. But for this, no doubt Philip would have broken his word, sooner than allow his chivalrous friend once more to risk his life for him.
As the noise below grew louder and louder, Stretton became more and more convinced that some such scene as had been enacted a day or two ago at the forge was being repeated in the hall of the Packhorse. He tried with all his might to force open the door which held him imprisoned, and threw his full weight against it once or twice, in a vain endeavour to break the thick oaken panels.
But the old door, fas.h.i.+oned of stout, well-seasoned wood, resisted all his efforts, whilst the noise he made thereby never reached the ears of the excited throng.
Like a fettered lion he paced up and down the narrow floor of the dingy inn parlour, chafing under restraint, humiliated at the thought of being unable to join in the fight, that was being made for his safety.
His sister's cry came to him in this agonising moment like the most joyful, the most welcome call to arms.
”The door! ... quick!...” he shouted as loudly as he could, ”it is locked!”
She found the bolt and tore open the door, and the next instant he was running downstairs, closely followed by Patience.
The Sergeant and soldiers had been not a little puzzled at hearing her ladys.h.i.+p suddenly calling in mad exultation on her brother, whom they believed they were even now holding prisoner.
The appearance of Philip at the foot of the stairs, and dressed in a serving-man's suit, further enhanced their bewilderment.
But already Patience stood proud, defiant, and almost feverish in her excitement, confronting the astonished group of soldiers.
”This, Sergeant!” she said, taking hold of her brother's hand, ”is Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, my brother. Arrest _him_ if you wish, he surrenders to you willingly, but I call upon you to let your prisoner go free.”
The Sergeant was sorely perplexed. The affair was certainly getting too complicated for his stolid, unimaginative brain. He would have given much to relinquish command of this puzzling business altogether.
”Then you, sir,” he said, addressing Philip, ”you are the Earl of Stretton?”
”I am Philip James Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, your prisoner, Sergeant,”
replied the lad, proudly.
”But then, saving your ladys.h.i.+p's presence,” said the soldier, in hopeless bewilderment, ”who the devil is my prisoner?”
”Surely, Sergeant,” quoth Sir Humphrey, with a malicious sneer, ”you've guessed that already?”
Jack Bathurst, exhausted and faint after his long fight and victory, had listened motionless and silent to what was going on around him. With the letters safely bestowed in the Sergeant's wallet and about to be placed before His Royal Highness the Duke of c.u.mberland himself, he felt that indeed his task was accomplished.
Fate had allowed him the infinite happiness of having served his beautiful white rose to some purpose. Philip now would be practically safe; what happened to himself after that he cared but little.