Peregrine's Progress Part 12

She was crouching at the table, a slender, desolate figure, her face hidden in her arms, but hearing my footstep, she lifted her head with a weary gesture and, looking into the beauty of this pale, tear-wet face, I read there a hopeless terror that went far beyond fear.

At sight of me she half rose, then sank down again, as from an inner chamber strode a tall, heavily built man in whom I instantly recognised the gentleman of the chaise. Beholding me, he halted suddenly and stood a minute like one utterly amazed, then his face was convulsed with sudden fury, his full lips curled back from strong, white teeth, and uttering a snarling, inarticulate sound, he caught up a heavy walking cane and strode towards me, whereupon I retreated so precipitately that my heel catching in the worn floor-covering, I tripped and fell; then, or ever I could rise, he stooped and catching me in merciless hands, shook me like the savage monster he was and dragging me across the floor, hurled me into the pa.s.sage; lying breathless and half-stunned, I heard the slam of the door, the rattle of a bolt and thereafter the sound of his voice, hoa.r.s.e and m.u.f.fled and very evil to be heard. I was upon my knees and groping for my hat when powerful arms caught me and lifted me to my feet.

"Why, Perry--curse and confound it!" exclaimed Anthony. "What in the name of--"

He broke off suddenly and I felt the arm about me grow tense and rigid as from beyond the bolted door the harsh voice reached us, fiercer, louder than before.

"Let you go back--and be laughed at for a fool? Not I! Little fool....

No, by G.o.d ... weep your eyes out ... we're as good as married ...

to-morrow morning ... come here ... obey me--"

"G.o.d!" exclaimed Anthony between shut teeth.

"And the door is bolted!" said I.

"No matter! Out o' my way!"

I saw him leap, saw his foot shoot out, heard a rending crash and next moment he was in the room and I behind him. The man in the blue spencer was in the act of locking the door of the inner room and stood, his hand upon the key, glaring at us beneath drawn brows.

"What the devil!" quoth he, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the stick where it lay on the table, turned upon Anthony with the weapon quivering in his big fist. "Out of this!" he snarled. "Back to the mud that bred you--d'ye hear!"

"One moment!" said Anthony, his grey eyes very wide and bright. "There is a lady in the room yonder and the doors are devilish flimsy, otherwise I should endeavour to describe the kind of thing you are--I intend very shortly to tread on you, but first--"

I saw the heavy stick whirl high, to fall whistling on empty air as Anthony, timing the blow, sprang lightly aside, then leapt heavily in with stiffened arm and fist that smote the scowling face reeling back to the wall. And now rose sounds evil to hear, fierce-panted oaths, the trampling of quick, purposeful feet, and a dust wherein they swayed and smote each other in desperate, murderous fashion; sickened by this beastly spectacle I shrank away, then ran to catch up the flickering lamp and with this grasped in tremulous hands, waited for the end. They were down at last, rolling upon the floor; then I saw the shabby, weather-beaten figure was uppermost, saw this figure reach for and grasp the heavy cane, saw the long arm rise and fall, heard a m.u.f.fled groan, a sharp cry, a shout of agony; but the long arm rose and fell untiring, merciless, until all sounds were hushed save for a dull moaning and the monotonous sound of blows.

"Anthony--for G.o.d's sake--don't kill him!" I cried.

"Murder--sometimes--virtue!" he gasped. At this I set down the lamp in a safe place and, running in, caught that merciless arm, commanding and beseeching in turn. "Right, Peregrine--loose my arm--he's had about--enough--besides, I'm devilish blown!"

So I loosed him and, standing back, saw beyond the door a throng of pale, fearful faces, that parted suddenly to make way for a short, squat man who carried a blunderbuss. Anthony saw him too, for in a moment he was up and, thrusting hand into his bosom, drew thence a small pistol.

"Put down that blunderbuss!" he commanded; whereupon, after a momentary hesitation, the squat fellow stepped forward and laid it sulkily upon the table. "Here, Peregrine," said Anthony, "take this pistol and keep 'em quiet while I walk on this scoundrel a little!"

Unwillingly enough, I took the weapon, while Anthony forthwith stood upon his prostrate antagonist and proceeded very deliberately to wipe his villainous-looking boots upon the gentleman's fine blue spencer; this done, he stepped down and beckoned the squat man to approach, who came in, though very unwillingly, and closely followed by the ostler and postillion.

"'Ave ye killed the pore soul?" questioned the squat fellow, eyeing the prostrate man very much askance.

"Alas, no--so I will ask you and these good fellows to carry him out and lay him in the horse-trough--"

"'Orse-trough?" exclaimed the landlord.

"Horse-trough!" nodded Anthony.

"Not us!" answered the landlord.

"Think again!" said Anthony, taking up the blunderbuss.

"Ye mean t' say--" began the landlord.

"Horse-trough!" said Anthony, levelling the ungainly weapon.

"Come on, master," quoth the ostler, "'e du be a mortal desp'rit cove for sure! An' what's a little water; 't will du un good!" So in the end they raised the groaning man and bore him forth, followed by Anthony with the blunderbuss across his arm. And presently from without came a splash, a fierce sputtering and a furious torrent of gasping oaths, which last sound greatly relieved me; and now, what with this and the excitement of the whole affair, I sank down in a chair, trembling from head to foot and my head bowed upon my hands.

But hearing a light footstep, I looked up to behold the lady, a bewitching vision despite red eyes and pallid cheeks, where she stood surveying me--then all at once she came forward, impetuous, her hands clasped.

"Oh, sir, how can I ever thank you--and my nose so red and my eyes so dreadfully bleared!"

And in the extremity of her grat.i.tude I believe this beautiful young creature would have knelt to me but that I caught and held her hands in mine; and it was at this moment that Anthony strode in, still a little breathless by reason of his late exertions.

"Oh, Peregrine--" he began and stopped, for at sight of him the lady shrank closer to me, viewing him with terrified eyes, as indeed well she might, for now, in addition to the woeful misery of his garments and stubble of beard, his wild and desperate appearance was heightened by a smear of blood across his pallid cheek. "Ah!" said he, beholding her instinctive gesture of aversion. "Pray a.s.sure madam that in spite of my looks she has nothing to fear!" and with one of his grand obeisances he turned to go, but in that moment I had him by the sleeve.

"Madam," said I, bowing to her as she stood viewing us with startled eyes, "I have the honour to present your deliverer and my friend, Mr.

Anthony Vere-Manville!" And now I saw that her eyes indeed were very beautiful. So I turned away and left them together.

CHAPTER VII

WHITE MAGIC

Reaching the other room I found the squint-eyed maid had set forth our supper--a goodly joint of cold beef flanked by a loaf, cheese and a jug of ale. A mere glance at this simple fare reminded me how extraordinary was my hunger which I was greatly tempted to satisfy then and there, but checked the impulse resolutely and sat down to wait for Anthony. Nevertheless my gaze must needs wander from crusty loaf to mellow cheese and thence to juicy beef so that I was greatly tempted to begin there and then but schooled my appet.i.te to patience.

At last in strode Anthony who, seizing my hand, shook it heartily.

"Peregrine," said he, staring very hard at the beef, "what perfectly glorious hair--"

"Hair?" said I.

"So silky, Peregrine, and--ripply."

"Ah!" said I, glancing from the beef to his ecstatic face. "You mean--"

"To be sure I do!" said he, and shook my hand again.

"And her eyes--you must have observed her eyes?"

"Somewhat red and swollen--"

"Tush!" said he, and catching my hand again, led me to a small and dingy mirror against the wall.

"An ill-looking scoundrel!" he exclaimed, pointing to his reflection.

"A miserable wretch, a friendless dog, and Peregrine, I tell you she stooped to trust this scoundrel, to touch this wretch's hand, to speak gentle words to this homeless dog. She's a saint, begad--a positive angel and--oh, stab my vitals--she's hungry and I forgot it--"

"So am I, Anthony--so are you--and here's supper--"

"Where?" he enquired, still lost in contemplation of his villainous reflection.

"On the table, of course."