The Brown Mask Part 38

"And you let him go!" exclaimed Rosmore, stamping his foot pa.s.sionately.

"We obeyed orders, sir, and it is well we did so. We, Sayers and I, were in Witley when the coach arrived. I had speech with Mistress Payne."

A grim smile overspread Sayers' face as he remembered the box on the ear his companion had received, but he saw that Lord Rosmore was in no mood to relish such a tale just now, and held his tongue.

"I told her something of what was to happen, and the place," said Watson, "but had I not known at what hour the coach was to start, and when we might expect it at the spot chosen, we should have been outwitted. In the morning that fiddler from Aylingford caught the coach, and in some manner had got wind that a trap was set. He persuaded the lady to take a by-road. I waited, and then, marvelling at the delay, ordered the troop to ride forward to meet the coach. At the corner where this by-way turns from the high road, we found a handkerchief lying on the gra.s.s--Mistress Payne's handkerchief. Had it not been for such a signal we had ridden past, and might have failed to catch them."

"Fairley! Then you have him too?"

"We had, sir, but he escaped."

"Escaped!"

"I have the two men who let him go under arrest," Watson answered. "One so badly hurt by the fall from his horse that it will be weeks before he can fling his leg across saddle again."

"You fools! The girl has more sense in her finger than you can muster in the whole of your carca.s.ses. How did he get away?"

"By a trick," said Sayers. "He was taken to the rear to keep him from his mistress, and, on pretence of losing his stirrups, got the men beside him to come close, when he spurred their horses, striking the men at the same time. He was round in a minute and galloping back upon the road. Half a dozen of us went in pursuit, when the shots fired after him failed to stop him. We went the whole way back to Witley, and there, at the inn, found the horse lathered with foam. The animal had entered the yard riderless!"

"What fools I have to serve me!" said Rosmore, laughing derisively.

"Apart from the woman, it would have been failure from beginning to end."

The derision hurt Watson.

"Care must be taken even of her, my lord."

"What do you mean?"

"There is generally a tender spot in a woman somewhere, and Mistress Lanison may chance to find it in Harriet Payne."

"Mistress Payne is to be trusted, Watson. I'll see to that."

"She would turn her wits against you, my lord, if she thought she were deceived. That's as sure as the coming of the Sabbath."

"Do you suppose, Watson, I throw away the skin before I have used all the fruit? Send the girl to me to-night."

The men saluted and turned.

"And Watson, you might put a little misery into your face and commiserate with Mistress Lanison on her position. It might interest her to hear the story of Alice Lisle of Winchester. She is high-spirited, and I would have that spirit broken."

"I will play Jeremiah, sir, like any Puritan."

"And Sayers, keep your eyes open in Dorchester. Crosby and this fiddler are too cunning not to be dangerous. I warrant they are not far away from Mistress Lanison. By Heaven! if you let her slip through your fingers now, you shall suffer for it!"

b.l.o.o.d.y a.s.sizes! Along West Street the name travelled to the "Anchor Inn," that hostelry of mean repute in Dorchester, and to a small upper room where three men sat. They leaned towards each other as they spoke.

"I have failed to find out where they have taken her." said one. "It must have been dark when they entered Dorchester; I can find no one who remembers such a cavalcade in the streets. I am at a loss how to discover her prison."

"Think, Martin."

"I have never been so barren of schemes as I am how. Have you no suggestion, Crosby?"

"I want to kill Rosmore."

"And you, Mr. Fellowes?"

"Here I may be of service. I am known as a soldier and a King's man," he answered. "My presence in Dorchester will not be called in question, and I may learn what is the real plot on foot. Until we know it, we can hardly scheme to prevent it."

"An excellent plan," said Martin. "There is another scheme half-born within me. I will let it mature to-night. Courage, comrades. Three honest men are worth many scoundrels. Three lovers of one woman, for so we are in our different fashions."

"That is true," said Crosby.

"Quite true," murmured Fellowes.

"And we strive together," said Martin, letting his hand fall on the table. It was covered immediately by the other men's hands.

"Heart and soul for Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes.

"Heart and soul," said Crosby.

"Three honest and true men," murmured Fairley, and tears were in his eyes. "A triple alliance."

CHAPTER XXI

LORD ROSMORE DICTATES TERMS

Lord Rosmore thought little about the a.s.sizes as he supped alone and drank his wine, unconscious of the many times he filled and emptied the gla.s.s. The hunting of fugitives was not to his taste, unless the fugitive chanced to be his personal enemy. He was sick at some of the cruelties he had been forced to witness; he hated and despised Judge Jeffreys, and almost shuddered at the thought of the punishment which was about to fall upon the crowd of ignorant peasants imprisoned in Dorchester. Had he been judge he would have treated them leniently, and probably no fear of the King's displeasure would have made him act otherwise; but for the furtherance of his own desires he had another standard of morality. It was not a standard made to suit the present circ.u.mstances, but one that had guided him through life, the primitive ideal that what a man desires he must fight for and take as best he may.

From his youth upwards he had coveted little that he had not obtained; the success was everything, the means used did not trouble him. If fair ones failed, foul ones were resorted to, and his conscience troubled him not at all. If, without hindrance to himself, he could return some service for one rendered, he did so, and with a certain cla.s.s of men and women won for himself a name for generosity. To withstand him, however, no matter in how small a thing, to baulk his aims and desires, directly or indirectly, was to turn him into an implacable enemy, the more dangerous because no scruple of honour would weigh with him or direct his actions. At the present moment he knew three persons were opposed to him--Gilbert Crosby; the fiddler, Martin Fairley; and Barbara Lanison.

Had the first two been in his hands he would have destroyed them. If, to accomplish this, false witnesses had to be found, he would have found them, and would have slept not one whit the less at night. He hated them both, and was still scheming for their downfall. Had circ.u.mstances so chanced that these two were powerless to be of further danger to him, he would still have hated them, would still have crushed them at the first opportunity. He was not a man to forgive an injury.

Truly, they were almost powerless to baulk him now, he argued, as he drained his gla.s.s again. What could two men do in Dorchester at the present moment, with the town full of soldiers, and Jeffreys at hand to deal out summary justice? The brown mask no longer hid a person of mystery; the features of Gilbert Crosby were known to dozens of men who had been outwitted by him. He would not dare to walk the streets by day.

As for this fiddler fellow, what power had he to cajole rough soldiery?

He might work upon the superst.i.tion of Sir John Lanison at Aylingford, might play upon the heartstrings of a woman, but these hard-drinking, hard-swearing men were not likely to fall victims to his fooleries. Even if he discovered where his mistress was lodged, he would not be able to come near her.

"I have played the trump card and taken the trick," laughed Rosmore.

"Now comes the taming of Mistress Lanison. I should hate her for defying me did I not desire her so much."

What he chose to think love was perhaps not far removed from hate. He longed to possess, to bend to his will, to have the woman who stood for so much in the estimation of so many men. Self-gratification controlled him, the desire that men should once again know how useless it was to attempt rivalry with him. He had a reputation to maintain, and he would maintain it at all hazards. He had begun to weigh carefully in his mind the plans he had formed, when the door opened.

"Ah! you loveable little trickster!" he exclaimed as Harriet Payne entered. "Come and let me thank you. Gold and trinkets I have none to-night; but--"

"I do not want them," she said.

"Love and kisses, my love and kisses," he said, drawing her on to his knee. "I've spent wakeful nights thinking of you; now I am happy again."