Cardigan Part 66

His voice ended in a shriek; the door behind him burst open, flinging him forward, and Black Betty appeared, eyes ablaze and teeth bared.

The next instant Silver Heels sprang through the portal, the door banged, and I heard the key turn on the other side with a click.

Dumfounded, I looked stupidly through the window behind me, then my heart leaped up, for there, at the foot of the garden, stood a post-chaise and four, lamps lighted, and postilions sitting their horses. There, too, were Silver Heels and Betty, setting foot to the chaise step. Dark figures aided them, the chaise door shut. I thanked G.o.d silently and turned to deal with these wicked men whom He had given into my hands.

Dunmore, insane with fury, was clawing at the window to raise it; Butler came swiftly from the ballroom and tried the door. Finding it locked, he looked at Dunmore with a ghastly laugh.

"She's gone!" shrieked Dunmore. "Gone in a chaise! That black s.l.u.t of hers did it! Let me out! Let me out! I'll claw them raw! I'll pinch them to death! I _won't_ stay here, d'ye hear?"

His voice soared into a falsetto screech, and he tore at his gums with his nails and stamped his feet.

"Give place there!" said Butler, brutally elbowing the frantic man aside. "Let me through that window, you doddering fool! You're done for; it's my turn now."

"What!" gasped Dunmore. Then terror blanched his face, and he began to scream: "That was _your_ chaise! You mean to cheat me! You mean to steal her! That was your chaise, and it's gone! No! No! Damme, you shall not catch them at the gates!" And he flung himself on Butler to drag him from the open window.

"Drive on!" shouted Butler, leaning out and calling to the people in the chaise.

Startled, I turned and stared through the window behind me. To my horror the horses started and the chaise began to move off. Even yet I did not comprehend that the chaise was not my own, but to see it slowly rolling away in the night terrified me, and I bounded out into the room--barely in time, for Butler had already forced Dunmore from the open window and had laid his hand on the wall to hoist himself out. Quick as the thought, I balanced my heavy knife, hilt to palm, swung forward and let it fly like lightning. The blade whistled true and struck, pinning Butler's arm to the wall. G.o.d! how he shrieked and shrank, twisting and turning to tear the blade loose. Dunmore ran around like a crazed rat, but I knocked him senseless with a chair, and sprang at Butler, who, writhing and ghastly pale, had just freed his left hand of the knife. He ran at me with his sword, but I shattered my heavy chair across his face, and seized him, meaning to cut his throat. Twist and tear and clutch as he would, he could not escape or hurt me; the coolness of murder was in my heart; I strangled him with one hand and hunted around the floor for my knife. It was gone, I could not find it. Then a wave of fury blazed in my brain; I lifted the struggling wretch with both hands above my head and brought him down on the floor, where he crashed as though every bone in him were shattered to the marrow.

As I reeled, panting, towards the window, the key turned in the locked door and Lady Shelton's frightened face appeared. When she saw me she rushed at me and screamed, but I thrust the harridan out of my path, vaulted through the open window, and ran down the orchard slope. Then, as I sprang into the lane, I almost dropped, for there, where I had left it, stood my post-chaise, awaiting me.

"Mount!" I shouted in terror. "Is she here?"

"Here?" he cried. "You are mad! Have you lost her?"

Through my whirling senses the awful truth broke like a living ray of fire.

"Out o' the saddle!" I shouted. "She has taken another chaise. It's Butler's men! Ride for her! Ride!"

"Gone?" thundered Mount, leaping to the seat, while I sprang to his vacant saddle. But I only lashed at the horses, and set my teeth while the dust flew and the pebbles showered through the flying wheels.

It seemed hours, yet it was scarcely five minutes, ere the gate-house lights broke out ahead, dots of dim yellow dancing through the dust.

Now we were galloping straight into the eye of the great bra.s.s lanthorn set above the guard-house; there came a far call in the darkness, a shadow crossed the lamplit glare, then I turned in my saddle and shouted: "Draw bridle!"--and our four horses came clashing in a huddle with a hollow volley of hoof-beats.

"Road closed for the night!" said a sentinel, walking towards us from the darkness ahead, cap, buckle, and b.u.t.tons glittering in the lamplight.

"A post-chaise pa.s.sed five minutes ahead of us," began Mount, angrily.

"Tut! tut! my good fellow," said the sentry; "that's none o' your business. Back up there!"

"I wish to see Mr. Bevan," said I, scarce able to speak.

"Mr. Bevan's gone home to bed," said the soldier, impatiently. "He pa.s.sed that other post-chaise at a gallop, or it would have been here yet, I warrant you. Come, come, now! You know the law. Clear the road, now!--turn your leaders, post-boy--back up, d'ye hear!"

"I tell you I've got to pa.s.s!" I persisted.

"Oh, you have, have you? And who are you, my important friend?" he sneered, barring our way with firelock balanced.

"I am deputy of Sir William Johnson!" I roared, losing all self-control. "Stand clear, there!"

"If you move I'll shoot!" he retorted; then without turning his head he bawled out: "Ho, sergeant o' the quarter-guard! Post number seven!--"

"Drive over him!" I shouted, lashing at the horses. There was a jolt, an uproar, a rush of frantic horses, a bright flash and report. Then a wheel caught the soldier and pitched him reeling into the darkness. I turned in my stirrups, glancing fearfully at Renard, who was recovering his balance in the saddle behind me and lifting a firelock to the pommel.

"Shot?" I asked, breathlessly.

"No; I caught his firelock; it exploded in my hand."

"Look out!" called Mount, from his front seat on the chaise. "The toll-gate's right ahead! There's a camp-guard due there at midnight!

Out with your coach-lamps!"

Shemuel jerked open each lanthorn and blew out the lights; darkness hid even the horses from our sight.

A camp-guard! Suppose the gate was closed! Thirty men and a drummer ahead of us!

"Cut the pike!" cried Mount, suddenly. "We save six miles by the old Williamsburg post-road! Turn out! Turn out!"

Far ahead the toll-gate lamp twinkled through the dust; I signalled to Renard and dragged the horses into a trot, straining my eyes for the branch road we had seen that morning. I could see nothing.

"By Heaven! the guard is gone; there's only a sentry there!" said Mount, suddenly.

"Pst!" muttered Renard. "We are the grand rounds, mind you. Answer, Jack!"

"Halt!" cried a distant sentry. "Who goes there?"

"Grand rounds!" sang out Mount.

"Stand, grand rounds! Advance, sergeant, with the countersign!" came the distant challenge again.

"Now," muttered Mount, leaping softly to the turf, "when I call, ride up to me. Hark for a whippoorwill!"

He vanished in the darkness. I waited, scarcely breathing.

"He won't kill him," whispered the Weasel; "you will see, Mr.

Cardigan, how it's done. He'll get behind him--patience, patience--pst!--there!"

A stifled cry, suddenly choked, came out of the night; the lanthorn at the toll-gate went out and the toll-house door slammed.

"It's the keeper barricading himself," whispered Renard; "he thinks the sentry has been surprised and scalped. Hush! Mount is calling."

"Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill!" throbbed the whimpering, breathless call across the meadow; the Weasel answered it, and we trotted on until a dark shape rose up in the road and caught at the leaders, drawing them to a stand-still.

"'Nother firelock," said Mount, shoving the weapon into the chaise and going back to the horses. "Here's the post-road; I'll guide you into it." And he started east through a wall of shadow.

"Where's the sentry?" whispered Renard.

"In the ditch with his coat tied over his head and my new hanker in his mouth. The frightened fool bit me so I scalped him--"

"What!" cried the Weasel.