The Brown Mask Part 42

Rosmore was not smiling now. He was a master of fence, had proved it a dozen times, more than once had sent his man to his account. He had never yet faced an antagonist whose skill was quite equal to his own.

Even to-night he would not admit to himself that he had found his equal.

He remembered that he had drunk much wine, yet, before this, he had not fought the worse upon such a quant.i.ty. He had known sudden encounters over dice and cards when the settlement followed hard upon the quarrel, as well as more formal duels, and in none had he been beaten. Truly this Crosby was no mean opponent, but no glow of satisfaction at meeting a worthy foeman came to Lord Rosmore. This must be a fight to the death, and twice in quick succession he attempted a thrust, a famous thrust of his, which had so often carried death with it. Now it was parried, easily it seemed, and barely could he turn aside the answering point which flashed towards him. For a few moments he was entirely on the defensive, with never an opening to attack.

Gilbert Crosby's actual experience was not equal to his skill. Once only had he fought a duel, and had wounded his man on that occasion. He was confident of his skill as he faced Lord Rosmore, but he knew that he must lack something of that a.s.surance which comes to the persistent duellist, that detachment of self which so often helps to victory. He was conscious of a certain anxiety which made him more than usually cautious. He fought as a man who must, not as one who glories in it, and it was well for Rosmore, perhaps, that it was so. It was for Barbara Lanison that he fought, the conviction in his mind that now or never must she be saved. No other way seemed open. It was of her he thought--of all she must have suffered, of the despicable trickery which had been practised upon her, of the fate which awaited her if she were not rescued. He loved her, that was as sure as that he lived, but it was not his love he thought of just then. As Rosmore once more attacked him fiercely the idea of defeat came to him for an instant. For himself he cared not, but what would it mean for her! The fight must end. It should end soon in the only possible way, honesty triumphant over villainy.

Lord Rosmore's thoughts wandered, too. The end did not really trouble him; he had never known defeat--why should it come to him now? Other men had parried a difficult thrust twice, and had failed to do so the third time; yet he remembered Barbara Lanison's speculation when he had spoken of breaking his sword after killing the highwayman. What would the highwayman do, she had wondered, if he should prove the victor, and Rosmore found himself wondering what Crosby would do in the event of such an end. Then he remembered Harriet Payne. What was the girl doing behind the curtain? Why had she not rushed into the room, as he had fully expected she would do? Had she swooned at the sight of the fighting? That he fought in an unrighteous cause he did not think about.

For him right meant the attainment of what he desired, and his head was scheming as he parried Crosby's attack. The fight must end quickly. It was very certain that the wine he had taken was telling upon his endurance. He almost wished that the girl would scream for help; he was half inclined to call for it himself. It would be an easy way to bring the end. Lord Rosmore was not himself to-night.

Harriet stood motionless and watched. In her ignorance she thought that each thrust must end it, so impossible did it seem to turn aside, now this flashing blade, now that; but presently it was evident, even to her, that the fight was fiercer. The panting breaths came quicker, the blades rang more sharply. She wondered that the house had not been aroused, wondered that those pa.s.sing in the streets had not heard this quarrel of steel with steel, and sought to know the reason. Then for the first time through long, long minutes her eyes wandered. The power which held her immovable and speechless was lessening, but the tension was not gone yet. Her eyes wandered, and her ears heard something besides the ringing steel. The curtains over the window shook a little, stirred by a breath of wind from the alley without. Then the window must have been left open! How was it no one without had heard the noise?

Crosby's back was to the window; he could not see that the curtains stirred, his ear caught no sound to startle him.

Rosmore, although he faced the window, saw nothing, heard nothing. His eyes were fixed upon those of his enemy, who was growing fiercer, more deadly every moment. The end was coming. Rosmore knew it, and felt weary. Every moment his enemy's point came nearer. It was parried this time and that, and again; but still it came. It touched him that time, not enough to scratch even, still it touched him! Next time! No, once more it was turned aside, and then it touched him again. It was nothing, but there was blood on his arm. In a moment that blade which had begun to dazzle him would be in his heart.

The curtains stirred again, floating out slightly into the room.

Harriet's eyes turned to Rosmore, and saw the blood on his arm. She knew that this was the end. Then the curtains parted swiftly, and Crosby's blade fell with a clatter to the floor. For an instant he was struggling in the grasp of two men who had rushed upon him from behind, and was then borne to the ground. It was at this moment, too, that Harriet flung back the curtain from the door and stood in the room. Perhaps she expected Rosmore to make one late thrust at the falling man.

For a moment there was silence.

"Tie this handkerchief round my arm, mistress," said Rosmore; "the honours have gone against me."

She did as she was told.

"Shall we secure him, sir?"

"Yes, Sayers, but gently. I would not have him hurt. Forgive me, Crosby, I had no hand in this interruption; but, since it comes, I am glad to take advantage of it. What brought you here, Sayers?"

"Chance," was the answer. "We were wondering where the alley led to, saw the window unfastened, and heard the steel."

"Thank you, Harriet," said Rosmore, as she finished binding up his arm.

"Help Mr. Crosby to a chair, Sayers. Give me that pistol on the table yonder. Here is the key of the door--catch; shut the window, one of you.

Now go, and wait in the pa.s.sage until I call you."

"Shall I go?" said Harriet.

"No; stay."

"You may well want to go, girl," said Crosby. "You have betrayed an innocent woman into the hands of her enemies, and for reward--what has this man promised you for reward?"

"Will you listen to me a moment, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore.

"Your confederates have made it impossible for me to refuse."

"That is unworthy of you," Rosmore answered. "I a.s.sure you I had no knowledge of their presence until I had made up my mind that your point was in my heart. I am glad they came for my own sake. I should have been a dead man had they been a moment later. I admit my defeat. Technically I am in your debt. If these bottles on the table are some excuse for me, I yet own that to-night the better man won."

"It hardly looks like it, does it?"

"Life is full of queer chances," said Rosmore, smiling. "You could find only two ways of ending your story. You see there is at least a third."

"It but delays the true ending," Crosby answered.

"No; believe me, I see in it a happy ending to the tale, but the tale is not quite as you imagine it. It is true that I take a sincere interest in Mistress Lanison, and I grieve to think that she has somewhat misjudged me, even as you have. You have also spoken some hard words against my valued companion here, Mistress Payne. Few men can see eye to eye, Crosby. You know Mistress Payne only as in your service--an honourable service, I know, yet one she was not intended for. I have seen her in different circ.u.mstances. Will you favour me by taking back the hard words you have said?"

"Yes, when she can prove her innocence, when she can prove that she has not betrayed another woman into your hands."

"I think I can prove that," said Rosmore. "Finding Mistress Payne here to-night may lead you to surmise many things. Strange to say, I was beginning to explain matters to her when we were interrupted, first by Judge Marriott, then by you. That is so, is it not?"

"Yes," Harriet answered in a whisper.

"The explanation may be made for your benefit, too, Mr. Crosby, but first let me a.s.sure you that Barbara Lanison is a woman I would befriend, and is nothing more to me. Mistress Payne has done me the honour to see in me a worthy man. As soon as this detestable work of taking inhuman revenge on poor peasants is over, Mistress Payne will become Lady Rosmore--my wife."

CHAPTER XXIII

LORD ROSMORE AS A FRIEND

A wave of colour swept into Harriet's face as Rosmore turned to her with a smile. Doubt and uncertainty had been hers a moment ago, and the sting of Crosby's words had hurt her; now this open declaration clothed her with a pleasant confusion, vindicated her presence in these rooms, and it was natural, perhaps, that there should be gratification in her heart that her former master should understand how important a person she had become.

Crosby remained silent. Was Rosmore speaking the truth? Could such a man marry such a woman? It seemed impossible, and yet where love rules the impossible constantly happens. He had grown so used to seeing Harriet Payne a serving maid at his manor at Lenfield that he had thought of her in no other position. As he looked at her now, standing with her hand in Rosmore's, he was bound to admit that she made a pretty figure, that many an eye might turn upon her with pleasure, that she certainly looked something more than a mere serving maid.

"Have you no congratulations to offer, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore. "Will you not withdraw some of the hard words you have spoken against this lady?"

"I cannot forgive even your future wife for deceiving Mistress Lanison."

"You will presently, when you understand that Mistress Lanison has been saved from the intrigues of her uncle and guardian. For the rest, her happiness lies chiefly in your hands, and you may find me more useful as a living friend than I should have proved as a dead enemy. Gad! you look as if you doubted it. No man is such a villain as he is painted, and, being a lover myself, I sympathise with all lovers. Perhaps you are right to be cautious, wise not to trust me until I have proved myself.

For a day or two you must be my guest, and you will forgive me if I, too, am cautious. You know my position in the West, and, truth to tell, I have used it in somewhat unwarrantable fashion on Mistress Lanison's behalf. I cannot afford to let you loose in Dorchester while you still think me an enemy. You must not blame me, then, if I have you guarded so that you must remain my guest even against your will. It will only be for a day or two. To-morrow we will go into my scheme in detail, and in the meanwhile I would remind you that your capture would rejoice the hearts of many. You will be wise to accept quietly the asylum I offer you in this house."

"I hope I shall live to thank you for your generosity," said Crosby.

"Indeed, I hope so," Rosmore answered, and he called to the men who were waiting without. "Make Mr. Crosby comfortable in one of the rooms upstairs. He is my guest, Sayers, and is to be well treated. That I have such a visitor is not to be spoken of, but you must see that he remains my guest. I do not ask for your parole, Mr. Crosby, because I do not believe you would give it, but I ask you to be wise for--for the sake of Mistress Lanison. Unfasten those bonds, Sayers--we do not keep prisoners here."

"I do not understand you, Lord Rosmore," said Crosby, standing up. "It may be that I shall know you better to-morrow."

"You will have slept, I trust, and clearer vision often comes with the new day. Good-night."

With a slight inclination of the head Crosby left the room with his two gaolers, for gaolers they surely were, although he had been called a guest. One of the triple alliance had grievously failed in his endeavour to help the woman who was in such sore distress; would the others fail as ignominiously?

"Are you satisfied?" asked Rosmore, turning to Harriet. "This pretty head of yours must have thought of hating me as you heard my character so basely spoken of."

"I am a woman, and was suspicious."

"And now, though still a woman, have no evil thoughts about me. I warrant you, this fellow Crosby will hardly be gracious enough to thank me when I place the woman he loves in his arms."

"You have not told me your scheme." "Scheme!" Rosmore exclaimed. "My head is full of schemes, and one comes uppermost at this moment. It is natural since it concerns you. I cannot let you serve another any longer. There are many rooms in this house; you shall stay here. Nay, let this kiss stop all remonstrance. I will send at once for some decent woman in the town who shall be your maid for the present, and Mistress Lanison shall have someone to wait on her in your place. I cannot have the lady who is to be my wife stooping even to serve Mistress Lanison.

Rosmores ever looked eye to eye with their fellows, and long ancestry and loyalty have given them privileges even in the presence of the King.