The Master of the Ceremonies Part 45

"Why, they'll make for the sand patch in Jollick's Cove," he said aloud.

"Don't know much about it, or they'd have took the path and the short cut and gone down the chalk steps."

He smiled as some thought occurred to him, and, drawing back from the edge of the cliff, he crawled back to where the beaten path showed faintly, and where at intervals the turf had been cut away down to the chalk, and a white patch made, as a guide for travellers in the dark, lest they should stray from the slight sheep-track and go over the cliff to certain death.

Along this path Fisherman d.i.c.k ran at a brisk trot for quite a mile, while the cliff rose slightly into a bold bluff, but the fisherman did not climb this, but plunged down suddenly behind a clump of furze into a ravine where a slight path showed that there was a way to the sh.o.r.e.

He went down this a few yards, and then turned, took two great strides, climbed up the face of the ravine a little way, stepped behind a huge ma.s.s of chalk, went in and out among some debris from the cliff, and then stepped into what looked like a rain gully which led to an opening in the rock, forming a rough half hole, half cavern, with the light coming from the side through a large irregular opening, partly natural, partly reduced by the arrangement of blocks of chalk, so that there was plenty of room for a dozen men to be in shelter, and where, unseen, they had full view of the open sea for miles on either side, and of the smooth patch of sand in the little cove, fifty feet or so below.

"There, as long as they don't shute up this way," said the fisherman, "I shall be all right and can see them all. I hope young Linnell won't be hurt. Don't suppose he will, for pistols is mortal stupid tools to work with."

Linnell and Mellersh came into sight soon after, and paused on reaching the sandy cove, a place admirably suited for the purpose in hand, for though from the rough look-out above, the sh.o.r.e could be commanded for some distance either way, those who occupied the sandy patch were hidden from either east or west.

"I'd have given something to have prevented this, d.i.c.k," said Mellersh huskily; "but you were bound to meet him."

"Yes," said Richard gravely. "It was unavoidable. Hush! don't talk to me. I'm firm now, and,"--he smiled as he spoke--"I want to do you justice."

"Well," said Sir Harry Payne, in a low voice, as the second party came upon the ground, "how do you feel now, Rockley? What do you mean to do?"

"To the man who struck me, and came between me and Claire Denville?"

"Yes."

"I shall shoot him like a dog."

Volume Two, Chapter VI.

JAMES BELL IS CONFIDENTIAL.

Sir Harry Payne looked at the stony face before him, and read fierce, implacable determination written plainly there. He felt that his companion was a soldier who would face death without a moment's hesitation, and that there was not a tremor in any pulse.

He had but little time for thought, for there were salutations to make, everything being carried out in the most cold-blooded style; after which Sir Harry took an oblong box from the Major's servant.

"You can go now," he said.

"Not stay with my master, sir?"

"I said go, fellow," cried Sir Harry sharply; and, in spite of his jaunty manner, he looked cold and pale.

"Back, Sir Harry?"

"No--anywhere. There, up the cliff. Be within call."

The man saluted, turned on his heel, and, walking to where a roughly-cut path of steps led up the cliff into the little ravine, began to mount as quickly as he could.

About half-way up he turned, saw that he was out of sight, and then, following Fisherman d.i.c.k's steps as if he were familiar with the way, climbed right into the rough cavern, and came suddenly upon the man, who started round in surprise.

"Hullo!" he growled. "What are you doing here?"

"Same to you," said the young dragoon, in a low voice. "What are you going to do?"

"See the fight, if you must know," said Fisherman d.i.c.k. "Like my place, p'raps."

"Yes," said the young soldier quickly, "I should;" and, stepping forward, he looked down cautiously on the group below.

"Why, it's Fred Denville, sure_ly_," cried Fisherman d.i.c.k.

"Hush, man!" said the young soldier, catching him by the arm; "James Bell now. Not a word to a soul about me."

"What, not to your young brother, Master Fred?"

"Hist! I'm only a common soldier now, d.i.c.k. You won't betray me, I know."

"Not I, lad. Troost me."

"I will, d.i.c.k, with my name, and--"

He placed his lips close to the fisherman's ear, and whispered.

Fisherman d.i.c.k brought a broad hand down softly on his knee, and laughed a silent laugh. But the next moment he turned preternaturally solemn, and whispered:

"It wouldn't be fair."

"Fair!" whispered back Fred: "is it fair for that poor fellow to stand and be shot down by a man who can snuff a candle at a dozen paces? I've seen him do it."

"I've done, my lad, and you're safe with me. I'm closer as you used to know."

Meanwhile the preparations had been going on below, and were so far advanced that the preliminaries had been all settled, the pistols charged, the ground stepped out, and the men were standing back to back, twelve paces apart.

Rockley was deadly pale, but not with the pallor of fear, as he stood exactly below the hollow where the two men were looking down. There was a savage look of rage in his eyes, and his lip was white where he pressed his teeth upon it firmly, longing the while to receive the weapon that was to be the minister of his vengeance upon the man he hated with an intense and ardent hate.

The doctor had drawn aside, walking down towards the sea, and the two seconds were together, every step in the progress of the drama being taken with a cold formality that was awful.

At last the seconds parted, each bearing one of the loaded weapons, and walking firmly towards his princ.i.p.al.

"Here you are, Rockley," said Sir Harry, in a voice that was husky, and not quite firm. "You'll wing him, won't you, or give him a ball through one of his legs?"

"If I can shoot straight," said Rockley coldly--"and my arm is pretty firm this morning--there shall be a funeral in Saltinville next Sunday."

"No, no. Gad, man, don't do that. Think of yourself if you killed him."

"I could get over it," was the reply. "The Prince would help me; and if he wouldn't--curse that Linnell, I'd sacrifice anything to pay him back his debt."

"Yes, you're firm enough, d.i.c.k. Mind: as Payne gives the word, raise your pistol and fire at once. You will not hit him, but the quick flash will spoil his aim. I will not consent to another shot. If he wants another it shall be at me. Now then; you understand?"

"Yes," said Linnell firmly, "I understand, Mellersh. I shall not fire at him. If I fall--badly hit--tell Claire Denville I sent her my dear love."

"Be firm, man. You will not fall," said the Colonel, pressing his hand.

Then, glancing at Sir Harry Payne, who was waiting, he walked away towards a certain prearranged point, where he and Sir Harry stood together in the grey morning light; while, back to back, there were the princ.i.p.als, each grasping his heavy duelling pistol, with the chalk cliff towering above, and, fifty yards away, the waves uttering their low, whispering sound.