Heiress of Haddon Part 16

There was no help for it. He could neither advance nor retreat, so he stood at the top, carefully selecting the darker side, to await the course of events which could bring him no good fortune, but only evil in a greater or lesser degree. The completeness of his disguise, which had so completely deceived Sir Thomas, encouraged him to hope, for the moment, that he might also pa.s.s unrecognised even before the eagle eyes of the King of the Peak, and he solaced himself by trusting that if he were discovered the landlord might dismiss him in as summary a manner as he had done the ostler before him.

As Sir George pa.s.sed him by, deep in conversation with Sir Nicholas Bacon, Edmund's hopes were considerably augmented, but the same ill-luck which had followed him heretofore did not desert him now.

His hopes were dashed as soon as they had arisen, for the eye of the worthy Boniface was fixed upon him ere that person had fully entered the room.

Had he been attired in a manner more befitting his station, Edmund would undoubtedly have received a more befitting reception; but clothed as he was in shabby knee-breeches, loosely tied at the knees, a coat which was out at the elbows, a hat minus a portion of its brim, and with a dilapidated ruffle round his neck, which had been in its prime years ago, he presented a striking similarity in appearance to the ordinary marauding beggar of the period, such as were then so exceedingly common, and for one of whom, indeed, the landlord took him to be.

As soon as this worthy had ascended, Edmund coolly made for the ladder, but he was motioned back by a sweep of the arm, as the landlord loosely fastened down the door.

"Who might you be, pray?" he asked, turning to the terror-stricken captive; "and what are you doing here, eh?"

At this sally Sir Thomas Stanley, who had just been exchanging compliments with the Lord Keeper, turned round.

"Who might he be," he laughed, repeating the words he had just overheard; "well, by my troth, Sir George, he does not remember his own servant, even the one he sent about my sack. You have been priming him with his own ale and this is the result.

"Not a drop," interrupted the baron.

"What do you say?" gasped out the astonished innkeeper. "This rascally knave a servant of mine! Pooh, does he look like it, I ask you? You impudent jackanapes," he pursued, as he clutched the unfortunate Edmund by the collar. "What are you here for, eh? What are you here for? Speak."

So far was Edmund from complying with this command that he remained absolutely silent. He dare not open his mouth for fear that Sir George would recognise his voice.

"Prowling about for as much as he can lay hold of, I'll warrant me,"

continued his captor, addressing Sir Thomas Stanley, who had advanced towards them. "How long has he been here, my lord?"

"Nay, I know not," said Sir Thomas. "I saw him but just before you came up."

"Then you may satisfy yourself that he had watched us out," replied the other sharply, "and was surprised enough to find anyone left up here."

"Like enough," a.s.sented the baron.

"He was pretty smart with his tricks, then," said Sir Thomas. "How was he to know I wanted any sack, I should like to know?"

The question was unanswerable, and no one attempted to reply.

"How did you know that, eh?" asked the proprietor, emphasising the question by a series of hearty shakings.

Still there was no answer; Edmund would not speak.

"Did you see him enter?" asked Sir Nicholas.

"I did not know he was in the room until he tapped me on the shoulder.

I was watching the play."

"These rogues are wonderfully sharp," muttered Sir George.

"Then probably he was in the room all the time," suggested the Lord Keeper.

"What did the rascal say to you, my lord?" went on the tavern keeper.

"He asked me whether I would have my sack spiced or no."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Sir George; "that was cool enough, at any rate.

I think we ought to let the knave free this time for his wit."

"And let him prey on somebody else?" added Sir Nicholas.

"Bad policy, Sir George, bad policy. He might try his hand on you next time."

"I wonder how much property of mine he has taken already?" continued the host. "I will have him thoroughly searched. I know the rascal well enough, he's been here before now many a time. There's a whole lot of them prowling around the neighbourhood; a regular gang. I'll make an example of this one, I will. You might as well give me what you have taken," he added, turning to his captive, "and save me the labour of taking it from you."

"I have nothing of yours," replied Edmund, in a strangely foreign voice.

"Not been through the house yet, maybe, eh!"

"No."

"Humph, I don't believe you. Here, Hugh," he cried, hearing the ostler moving about below, "come up here."

Edmund's quondam friend and fellow conspirator came up in answer to the summons in no very enviable frame of mind, antic.i.p.ating very correctly what was about to take place, and debating within himself what course of action to pursue. He quickly decided, however, that inasmuch as he had not yet possessed himself of the money due to him from the captive, that he would screen him as far as he was able--compatibly with his own safety.

"What's this fellow doing here?" demanded his master, as soon as Hugh stepped into the room.

"Can't say, sir," replied Hugh, gazing at Edmund with well-simulated surprise, "maybe he's in drink."

"A likely story, that. Do drunken folk climb up ladders, eh?"

"Not always, sir."

"How long has he been up here, now?"

"Never seen him afore, sir," returned the unabashed ostler, with an air of perfect candour.

"You will be getting into serious trouble some day if you don't be careful to speak the truth," exclaimed his master, "so I warn you, sir. Now, out with it; he was here when you went down."

"I had not seen him then, by the blessed Virgin I had not. I have never clap't eyes on the knave before!"

"Now, mind, I warn you, so be careful."

"I had only just got up, master; upon my word I had. I had not sufficient time to see anybody before you came and sent me down,"

and at the remembrance of that event he stepped back a pace or two in order that his previous experience might not be repeated.

"You good-for-nothing rascal you!" broke out the landlord. "I stood and watched you myself, you were looking at the play. Get you gone, you idle vagabond," he added, in high dudgeon, "get you gone, and bring me up some stout cord."

Glad to escape, Hugh quickly made his exit, having come off far more easily than at one time he feared. He reappeared in a short time, but with empty hands.

"Well, where's the cord?" angrily enquired his master.

"An it please you, sir," he replied, with a sly wink at Edmund, "I cannot find one strong enough to bear him."