The MS. in a Red Box Part 20

"And I will go toward Epworth, and send the soldiers on a wild-goose chase, if I meet them," said Bess.

"But these men of war cannot all be looking for Ulceby, surely?"

"No, no; the search-party has returned to Lincoln, but these men are billeted hereabout to keep the Islonians in check, because of the attacks which have been made on Sandtoft; but there is a reward offered for the capture of Ulceby, and poor Daft Jack may be taken, if he is found. I meant to try to find and warn him, but now I must go the other way. But you must go at once."

"Stay yet half a minute," I said. "Do you know where Boswell is, and what he is about?"

"To-morrow night at Daft Jack's cottage, I will tell you all I know.

You must not lose more time. And take my purse, for you must be penniless."

"In an hour I shall be at the vicarage," said I, declining.

"Then you can give it back to me to-morrow night."

She thrust it into my hand, and we went our different ways.

CHAPTER XVI

I kept to the road, often glancing backward for any sign of pursuit, but reached Crowle without adventure, and made straight for the vicarage. The front door stood open, and I strode in, right glad to be in security, shouting, "Aunt, where are you?" forgetting, for the moment, the shock I was like to give her. A maid whom I did not know came from the kitchen, but stopped short at sight of me, and screamed.

That brought me to recollection.

"Don't be alarmed, my wench," said I, "but go quick to Mistress Graves, and tell her there is one here who has news for her."

But the maid continued to scream "Master! Thieves! Murder!" And her cries brought a strange clergyman into the hall, who appeared not to like the look of me.

"What is this? Who are you? What is your business?" he asked, all in a breath.

"I would see Mistress Graves," I answered.

"Mistress Graves is with her husband in Lincoln, as every one in the parish knows," said the parson, eyeing me more mistrustfully.

"In Lincoln!" I echoed in amazement. Then I remembered that the vicar held some appointment at the minster--a praelectorship, or sub-praelectorship, I believe it was called--which took him to the city at stated times.

"In Lincoln," repeated the parson. "Therefore you can have no further business here."

"And have they taken their servants?" I asked. "They would not need the gardener: is he not here?"

"There are men on the premises," he answered, "but you will find the vicar's gardener at his cottage, I dare say."

And he motioned with his hand toward the door.

"Oh, I am not to be so dismissed," I blurted out. "I am Mistress Graves' nephew, Vavasour."

"What effrontery!" cried the parson. "The young gentleman is dead and buried."

"But I am he, I tell you. I have been immured in Melwood Priory, and only escaped this morning."

"If that be so," answered the parson, who evidently did not believe a word of it, "you should appeal to the magistrates."

"Such is my intention. But all my belongings are here. I sent them to my aunt's care seventeen days ago. I beg you to let me have the means of cleanliness, and a change of clothing."

"You must be as much fool as knave, to imagine I shall give my friend's property to the first beggar who chooses to ask for it."

"But I will describe my baggage and its contents," I pleaded.

"Doubtless, doubtless. Perhaps you have an inventory in your pocket,"

he replied, with contempt for the tricks of beggars in his tone.

His own words seemed to set him thinking, for he drew out a paper from his pocket, and read it, looking up at me two or three times in the course of reading.

"I have here your description, point by point," said he, when he had finished the perusal, "and your name is given as Jim Ulceby, for whose apprehension a reward is offered. The description tallies precisely, so far as I can see. It makes mention of certain marks on the breast, which may or may not be on yours."

"I bear the marks," I said.

"Oh! You confess it?"

I recounted briefly what had been done to me, ending by a claim that he should aid me as befitted his sacred office. In this I made a great mistake, for the parson waxed hot, declaring my story utterly incredible, and bade me begone. I felt quite sure he would have detained me, if he had had force at command. So I made my way to Daft Jack's cottage by every turn and cross-cut I knew, in hope to elude observation. It stood near one end of a small orchard, thickly planted, a narrow path leading from the orchard gate to the cottage door. I rapped on the door with my knuckles, and heard Jack's high voice tremble as he called "Come in." The room, lighted only by a small window, which a tree overshadowed, was dim to eyes fresh from the sunshine, but I saw Jack seated on a stool, shoulders bent, hands on knees, face directed toward the door.

"Who are you? Speak," he cried, in a tone of fear.

"An old acquaintance, Jack; not dead, as you may have believed, but sorely in need of friendly help."

Jack sprang out of his posture of fright, and seized my hands.

"I knew it was your step," he almost shrieked. "Oh yes; and it is your voice. You're warm and wick. Oh, Mester Frank, where have you been?

And what's come to your face?" The poor fellow trembled, and fell to blubbering, squeezing my hands and gazing up at me.

"I will tell you all about myself shortly, Jack, but I am as hungry as a moudiwarp; how dirty I am, there's no telling. Can you find me soap and water and a scrubbing-brush? And I want some other clothing than these foul rags. Whether my money will go so far, though, is doubtful."

Pulling out the purse which Bess had given me, put me in mind of the warning with which she had charged me.

"But you are to lie, snug, Jack, so you cannot do marketing for me.

Bess Boswell sent you word that soldiers are prowling about."

Jack chuckled, and taking out of a box a gown and a bonnet, such as our labouring women wear in the fields, he informed me that, indued in these, he became Judy Hoggat, well known to his neighbours; and as his hairless face was womanish enough, when framed and partly concealed in the hood, I judged he might safely do my errands.

An hour later we sat down to meat, I clean and tolerably comfortable in shepherd's garb. When we had eaten and drunk our fill, and I had satisfied Jack's curiosity, I asked for cleat-boards and staff, intending to cross to Sandtoft without delay; but while Jack was getting ready for my journey, I fell asleep in my chair, and slept till four o'clock--too late to go and return to meet Bess, who might have something of urgent importance to tell me. I felt heartily ashamed of my drowsiness, and inclined to be angry with Jack for not rousing me; but he answered my rating with--

"Wouldn't ha' waked you for a hatful of gold. Why, you looked as tired as a dog in a pedlar's cart."

With the dusk came Bess, who had met a troop of carabineers soon after we parted at Belton, and being questioned by the officer, had sent them eastward to b.u.t.terwick ferry. Of her father's whereabouts and present business she knew little, beyond the fact that he had gone away in a hurry on receipt of a message from Sheffield. She was disposed to think the message related to Vliet, for Boswell had growled a curse on "all Dutchmen." Bess had ascertained that my friend Portington was at home, and she urged my going to Tudworth under cover of the darkness.

My first duty, she held, was to obtain the help and countenance of friends; and in spite of my longing for sight of Anna, I acknowledged the good sense of the advice, and agreed to set out shortly. I had no sooner said so than we heard the clatter of horses at the trot.

"Soldiers!" exclaimed Bess.