Tales from Many Sources Part 11

Mr. Barnes had a fixed mask-like countenance, his bushy eyebrows almost met in a wrinkle that told of thought and deep calculation. He was clean-shaven, and his chin was swathed in a huge neckcloth of white muslin; he wore his hat low on his brow.

"I like not to be out so late on the high road," said he very suddenly, so that both Mr. Ives and Mistress Mary Jones started, and Betty, whom nothing ever startled, turned her great blue eyes inquiringly on him.

"Why, sir?" she asked.

"Why, my good young lady, because the Newbury sales are just over, and it is well known that the stock reared on Belford home farm has sold well"

"Are the roads not safe then, sir?" asked Mr. Ives rather anxiously.

"I do not quite say that, for it is many a long day since the coach was attacked between Newbury and Wancote; but rumour has been busy."

"Ha!" cried Betty, sitting upright eagerly.

"It is said that Wild Jack Barnstaple has been heard of in the neighbourhood."

"Heaven help us!" shrieked Mary Jones.

"Be calm, I entreat you, my dear madam, and have pity on my unfortunate toes! Zounds! it is torture enough to be subject to periodical gout, without such an infliction as the stamp of a lady's fashionable heel on the tender place."

"But you say Wild Jack is in the neighbourhood! Oh Heaven! what will become of us!"

Betty's blooming cheek had turned just a faint shade paler, but the rosy colour came rushing back, her eyes flashed.

Suddenly stooping forward she said in a low voice:

"Mr. Barnes, you may confide in me. Do you carry much money?"

He answered in a tone of a.s.sumed ease, "Paper to the value of nearly a thousand pounds."

"Then look you, Mr. Barnes," said Betty in her natural voice, "I have a proposal to make to you. Give the valuables you have to us--to Miss Mary Jones and to myself. Wild Jack, all say, is a gentleman--should he, by any unfortunate chance, be on the road to-night, he will not rob women.

Your money will be safe."

"No, no, no, no!" cried Mary. "Betty, how can you propose anything so impossible, so unfeminine! Are not men our natural protectors?" and she threw a languishing glance at the cattle-breeder. "Shall we usurp their rights?"

"It is quite true; it is impossible," said Barnes.

"You are foolish to throw away the chance," said Betty calmly.

"I cannot see why you should not accept her offer," said the parson restlessly; he was accustomed to yield to his daughter's judgment in everything. "Betty is a bold girl, and she is generally in the right."

"Come, yield the point, Mr. Barnes," said Betty, with a light laugh, holding out her hand for the pocket-book.

"Remember I have no part or parcel in it," cried Mary, shrinking farther and farther away. "I would not for the whole world! Why, Betty," she whimpered, "they might even search you."

"Wild Jack is a gentleman," answered the girl; then with a sudden flash of scorn, "but even had I not such faith in his honourable dealing, I should know how to take care of myself. Give me the papers, Mr. Barnes."

Very unwillingly, as if he despised himself for so doing, Barnes gave them into her hands. The notes were smoothed and laid flat, they occupied the smallest s.p.a.ce possible.

Betty Ives placed the papers within the bosom of her tight-fitting riding-habit, and leant back as if she had done with the subject.

Mr. Ives looked with anxious eyes through the window.

The mail was pa.s.sing along a wide fair unsheltered road, on each side spread away treeless tracts of country, flat and wide, over which the fresh cold wind blew listlessly. To the left the horizon was bounded by the wide expanse of the gra.s.sy Berkshire downs. They rose and fell, a vast undulating plain, covered with short fine herbage.

It was growing very dark; the parson drew in his head, and thanked Heaven that the country was so fine and open, that he could even in the gathering gloom see far behind and before, and could perceive no suspicious object.

"We are all right here," said Mr. Barnes, his voice becoming more and more dismal. "But a mile farther on, and we come to a small wood--the road dips down there suddenly, it is a first-rate place for an ambush."

"Mercy! mercy!" cried Mary Jones in a voice half-strangled by the anguish of her terror.

"We have yet a mile of safety," said Betty kindly "--a whole mile, Mary; and going at this pace, we need not prepare our terrors for another hour."

"Heaven grant that the moon may be up," cried Barnes.

"Sir," said Betty slowly, "I imagine that you carry arms?"

"I am not unarmed," he answered hastily, "I have pistols and a sword."

"I should have them in readiness, as I myself intend to do," said Betty, and she drew out a tiny silver-mounted pistol. "See, it is prepared for use. My father is a clergyman and must eschew firearms; Mary Jones is a woman--"

"Aye, a true woman, a frail woman," whined the poor lady.

"But," continued Betty, "the guard is armed, so are we; we have still a mile to go. Ha!" her voice ended abruptly. There was a crashing sound, a shot, a shout, a confused sense as if the whole coach were falling to the ground. The door was torn open. Before Betty could even raise the deadly little weapon she carried, it was seized from her hand--the whole party were dragged out of the carriage--they found themselves surrounded by armed men. There was a violent struggle, fighting and disorder, loud oaths from the coachman, appalling shrieks from Mary Jones. Some one opened a lantern and allowed its red glare to fall on the scared prisoners and on the black masks of their captors.

The man who was evidently the leader of the party was holding Betty's two hands in one of his in a grasp which she imagined to be gentle until she attempted to release them, when she discovered that she might as easily have broken bands of steel.

"Here, give me a rope, we must bind our prisoners," said this man suddenly. "This fair lady had all but fired one shot too many for Wild Jack to-night!"

There was a laugh, and with dexterity, evidently gained from experience, the prisoners were rapidly bound.

"I am grieved to incommode you thus, madam," said the leader, bowing low to Betty. "Our business is with that gentleman," with a slight motion of his hand towards the hapless Mr. Barnes. Betty bowed slightly. The light fell full on her tall figure, on her n.o.ble head slightly raised and thrown back, the nostrils dilated, the colour glowing richly in the soft cheek. Wild Jack, looking at her, felt a glow of enthusiasm which betrayed itself in his voice.

"You have nothing to fear, madam," he said.

"I? I fear nothing," said the girl calmly--"Wild Jack is a gentleman."

The highwayman made a rapid sign to his comrades, who proceeded to throw themselves on to Samuel Barnes, and begin to search him from head to foot.

A sudden fear flashed into Betty's mind. How if Wild Jack were unable to restrain his companions, infuriated as they would be by their failure in discovering the expected treasure on the person of their victim?

Her cheeks paled, for one moment she turned her eyes full on the masked face of her captor. Masked as he was, her look thrilled him through and through.

"You are safe," he repeated hurriedly.

Something in his voice seemed to give her confidence, for she stooped forward and said in a low voice, "Mr. Barnstaple, I trust to your honour,--the money is here."

And with a grand movement she laid her bound hands on her breast.