Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne - "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, V4"

James De Mille - "Lost in the Fog"

G. P. R. James - "The King's Highway"

Edward S. Ellis - "The Lost Trail"

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Books: The King's Highway

G >> G. P. R. James >> The King's Highway




Thus saying, he turned upon his heel and quitted the room, still
holding the pistol in his hand. After closing the door, he paused for
an instant and meditated, then thrust the pistol back into his belt,
and walked along one of the many passages of the house, with the
intricacies of which he seemed perfectly well acquainted.

The scene of dismay and confusion, however, which he left behind is
almost indescribable. Every person talked at once, some addressing
the general number, not one of whom was attending; some speaking
vehemently to another individual, who in turn was speaking as
vehemently to some one else. The great majority of those present,
however, seemed perfectly convinced that their late companion would
betray them, or, at all events, take such measures for frustrating
their schemes, as to render it perilous in the extreme to proceed in
them. Sir John Friend was for giving it all up at once, and Parkyns
seemed much of the same opinion. Rookwood, Fenwick, and others
hesitated, but evidently leaned to the safer course.

Sir George Barkley and Charnock were the only persons who, on the
contrary, maintained the necessity and the propriety of abandoning
none of their intentions. To this, indeed, after great efforts, they
brought back the judgment of the rest; but it required all their
skill and art to accomplish that object. In regard to the general
question of proceeding, they urged, at first, that they might as well
go on, though cautiously, inasmuch as they were all committed to such
a degree, that they could not be more so, let them do what they
would. They were already amenable to the law of high treason, which
was sure not to be mitigated towards them, and therefore they had
nothing farther to fear but discovery. This having been conceded,
and fear beginning to wear away, after a little consideration, it was
easily shown to some of those present who proposed to abandon the
idea of calling in foreign troops, in the hope of bringing back the
Duke and the Earl of Aylesbury, with others, to their party, that
their great hope of security lay in the actual presence of those
foreign troops, who would, at all events, enable them to effect their
escape, even if they did not insure them success in their design. The
assassination was the next thing touched upon: but here Sir George
Barkley argued, that what had occurred should only be considered as a
motive for urging on their proceedings with the utmost rapidity.

"Let us leave it to be understood," he said, "by the great multitude
of King James's loyal subjects, that the matter of aid from France is
a thing yet to be considered of. In regard to the death of the
usurper, whatever it may be necessary to say to others, none of us
here present can doubt that it is absolutely necessary to our
success. The whole of the information possessed by the man who has
just left us is evidently gained from a letter which I wrote to Sir
John Hubbard in the north, which has somehow unfortunately fallen
into his hands. In that letter, however, I stated that the usurper's
life would come to an end in April next, as we at first proposed. If
the man have any design of betraying us--"

"No, no, he will not betray us," said several voices; "he has
pledged himself not to disclose our names; and when his word is once
given, it is sure."

"But," said Sir John Fenwick, "he straight-forwardly said that he
would frustrate our scheme, and in so doing, it is a thousand chances
to one that he causes the whole to be discovered."

"Then the way," exclaimed Sir George Barkley, "the only way is to
proceed in the business at once. This letter to Hubbard is what he
goes upon; he has no suspicion of our being ready to accomplish the
thing at once. Let us then take him by surprise; and while he is
waiting to see what April will produce, let us, I say, within this
very week, execute boldly that which we have boldly undertaken. We
can easily have sharp spies kept constantly watching this good friend
of ours in the green doublet, who seems to fancy himself a
second-hand sort of Robin Hood. Half of his people are mine already,
and the other half will be so soon. Let the thing be done before the
year be a week older; and let us to-morrow night meet at Mrs.
Mountjoy's in St. James's-street, and send over to hurry the
preparations in France. Gentlemen, it is time for action. Here
several months have slipped by, and nothing is done. It is high time
to do something, lest men should say we promised much and performed
little."

Gradually all those who were present came round to the opinion of Sir
George Barkley, and everything was arranged as he had proposed it.
Some farther time was then spent in desultory conversation; and it
seemed as if every one lingered, under the idea that they were all to
go away together. Sir George Barkley, however, and Fenwick, seemed
somewhat uneasy, and whispered together for a moment or two; and at
length the latter said, "It may be better, gentlemen, for us to go
away by two or three at a time. You, Parkyns, with Sir John Friend,
had better take along the upper road; three others can take the low
road by the waterside; and Sir George with Charnock and myself will
wait here till you are safely on your way."

This proposal was instantly agreed to; but still some of the
gentlemen lingered, evidently to the discomposure of Sir George
Barkley, who at length gave them another hint that it was time to
depart.

"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, as soon as they were all gone, "I thought
they would have hung drivelling on here till the boat came down. The
tide served at ten o'clock, and before one they must be off the end
of the garden. How far is it from Erith?"

"Oh, certainly not four hours' sail," answered Charnock. "But had I
not better now write the letter we talked of to the Duke? I can
conceal my own hand well enough, and then if Fenwick is asked
anything about it, he can swear most positively that it is not his
writing."

"Oh! I care nothing about it," replied Fenwick. "The foolish old man
cannot betray me without betraying himself; and you will see he will
soon come round. In the meantime, however, I will go down and talk to
old Plessis about the ship. I should think it could be got ready two
days sooner easily; and as this that we have in view is a great
object, we must not mind paying a few pounds for speed."

Thus saying, he left the room; and Charnock, taking paper out of a
drawer, proceeded to write a letter according to the suggestions of
Sir George Barkley. Presently after, there was a sound of several
voices speaking, which apparently proceeded from some persons
approaching the front of the house. Both Sir George Barkley and
Charnock started up, the first exclaiming, "Hark! there they are!"

"Yes," exclaimed Charnock, "there's a woman's voice, sure enough! Why
the devil don't they stop her talking so loud?"

"You write out the letter, Charnock," said Sir George. "I must go
down and see that all is right."

Charnock nodded his head, and the other left the room.



CHAPTER XIX.

When Wilton Brown reached the house of the Earl of Byerdale, he found
that nobleman, the Duke of Gaveston, and Lord Sherbrooke, sitting
together in the most amicable manner that it is possible to conceive.
The countenance of the Duke was certainly very much distressed and
agitated; but making allowance for the different characters of the
two men, Lord Byerdale himself did not seem to be less distressed.
Lord Sherbrooke, too, was looking very grave, and was thoughtfully
scribbling unmeaning lines with a pen and ink on some quires of paper
before him.

"Oh, Mr. Brown, I am very glad to see you," exclaimed the Duke.

"My dear Wilton," said the Earl, addressing him by a title which he
had never given him in his life before, "we are particularly in need
of your advice and assistance. I know not whether Sherbrooke, in his
note, told you the event that has occurred."

"He did so, to my great grief and surprise, my lord," replied Wilton.
"How I can be of any assistance I do not know; but I need not say
that I will do anything on earth that I can to aid my lord duke and
your lordship."

"The truth is," replied Lord Byerdale, "that I am as greatly
concerned as his grace: it having happened most unfortunately, this
very morning--I am sorry, through Sherbrooke's own fault--that Lady
Laura found herself compelled to break off the proposed alliance
between our two families, which was one of my brightest day-dreams.
The Duke knows well, indeed, that however high I may consider the
honour which I had at one time in prospect, I am perfectly incapable
of taking any unjustifiable means, especially of such a rash and
desperate nature, to secure even an alliance such as his. But other
people--the slanderous world at large--may insinuate that I have had
some share in this business; and therefore it is absolutely necessary
for me to use every exertion for the purpose of discovering whither
the young lady has been carried. At the same time, the circumstances
in which we are placed must, in a great degree, prevent Sherbrooke
from taking that active part in the business which I know he could
wish to do, and I therefore must cast the burden upon you, of aiding
the Duke, on my part, with every exertion to trace out the whole of
this mysterious business, and, if possible, to restore the young lady
to her father."

The Earl spoke rapidly and eagerly, as if he feared to be
interrupted, and wished, in the first instance, to give the matter
that turn which seemed best to him.

"I am very anxious, too, Mr. Brown," said the Duke, "to have your
assistance in this matter, for I am sure, you well know I place great
confidence in you."

Wilton bowed his head, not exactly perceiving the cause of this great
confidence at the moment, but still well pleased that it should be
so.

"May I ask," he said, in as calm a voice as he could command, for his
own heart was too much interested in the subject to suffer him to
speak altogether tranquilly--"may I ask what are the particulars of
this terrible affair, for Lord Sherbrooke's note was very brief? He
merely told me the Lady Laura had disappeared; but he told me not
where she had last been seen."

"She was last seen walking on the terrace in the garden," said the
Duke, "just as it was becoming dusk. The afternoon was cold, and I
thought of sending for her; but she had been a good deal agitated and
anxious during the day, and I did not much like to disturb her
thoughts."

"On which terrace?" demanded Wilton, eagerly.

"On the low terrace near the water," replied the Duke.

"Good God!" exclaimed Wilton, clasping his hands, "can she have
fallen into the river?" and the horrible image presented to his mind
made his cheek turn as pale as ashes. In a moment after, however, it
became red again, for he marked the eye of the Earl upon him, while
the slightest possible smile crept round the corners of that
nobleman's mouth.

"My apprehensions, at first, were the same as yours, my young
friend," replied the Duke. "I was busy with other things, when one of
the servants came to tell me that they thought they had heard a
scream, and that their young lady was not upon the terrace, though
she had not returned to the house. We went down instantly with
lights, for it was now dark; and my apprehensions of one terrible
kind were instantly changed into others, by finding the large
footmarks of men in the gravel, part of which was beaten up, as if
there had been a struggle. The footsteps, also, could be traced down
the stone steps of the landing-place, where my own barge lies, and
there was evidently the mark of a foot, loaded with gravel, on the
gunwale of the boat itself, showing that somebody had stepped upon it
to get into another boat."

This intelligence greatly relieved the mind of Wilton; and at the
same time, Lord Sherbrooke, who had not yet spoken a word, looked up,
saying, "The Duke thinks, Wilton, that it will be better for you to
go home with him, and endeavour to trace this business out from the
spot itself. One of the messengers will be sent to you immediately
with a warrant, under my father's hand, [Footnote: It may be as well
to remark here, that much of the business which is now entirely
entrusted to police magistrates was then carried on by the
secretaries of state and high official persons; and a "secretary's
warrant" was an instrument of very dangerous and extensive power.] to
assist you in apprehending any of the participators in this business.
Do you think anything can be done to-night?"

Wilton was accustomed to read his friend's countenance with some
attention, and, from his whole tone and manner, he gathered that Lord
Sherbrooke was somewhat anxious to bring the conference to an end.

"Perhaps something may be done to-night," he replied, "especially if
no inquiry has yet been made amongst the watermen upon the river."

"None," replied the Duke, "none! To say the truth, I was so
confounded and confused, that I came away here instantly--for advice
and assistance," he added; but there was a pause between the words,
which left his real views somewhat doubtful. The rest of the business
was speedily arranged. The Duke's coach was at the door, and Wilton
proceeded into the Earl's library to write a note to his own servant,
containing various directions. He was followed in a minute or two by
Lord Sherbrooke, who seemed looking for something in haste.

"Where are the blank warrants, Wilton?" he said: "my father will sign
one at once."

As he spoke, however, he bent down his head over Wilton's shoulder,
and then added, "Get away as fast as you can, or you will betray
yourself to the keen eyes that are upon you. Go with the Duke,
rescue the girl, and the game is before you. I, too, will exert
myself to find her, but with different views, and you shall have the
benefit of it."

"Sherbrooke, Sherbrooke," said Wilton, "what madness is it that you
would put into my head?"

"It is in your heart already, Wilton," replied Lord Sherbrooke. "But
after all, it is no madness, Wilton; for I have this very night heard
my father acknowledge to the Duke that he knows who you really are;
that the blood in your veins is as good as that of any one in the
kingdom; and that your family is more ancient than that of the Duke
himself, only that on account of some of the late troubles and
changes it has been judged necessary to keep you, for a time, in the
shade. Thus, you see, it is no madness--Nay, nay, collect your
thoughts, Wilton.--Where are these cursed warrants? I say the game
is before you.--There is my father's voice calling. He has an
intuitive perception that I am spoiling his plans. Look to Sir John
Fenwick, Wilton--look to Sir John Fenwick. I suspect him strongly.
Hark how that patient and dignified father of mine is making the bell
of the saloon knock its head against the wall! By heavens, there's
his step! Fold up your note quickly! Where can these cursed warrants
be?--My lord," he continued, turning to his father, who entered at
that moment, "before you sent me for the warrants, you should have
given me a warrant to discover and take them up, for I can neither do
one nor the other."

The warrants were soon found, however; the Earl signed one and filled
up the blanks; one of the ordinary Messengers of State was sent for,
in order to follow Wilton and the Duke as soon as possible; and the
young gentleman, taking his place in the carriage, was soon upon the
way to Beaufort House, conversing over the events that had occurred.

What between agitation, grief, and apprehension, the Duke was all
kindness and condescension towards his young companion. He seemed,
indeed, to cast himself entirely upon Wilton for support and
assistance; and it speedily became apparent that his suspicions also
pointed in the direction of Sir John Fenwick, and the rash and
violent men with whom he was engaged.

"I could explain myself on this subject," said the Duke, "to no one but
you, my dear young friend, as you are the only person acquainted with
the fact of my having been at that unfortunate meeting, except, indeed,
the people themselves. Of course I could not say a word upon the subject
to Lord Byerdale or Lord Sherbrooke; but in you I can confide, and on
your judgment and activity I rely entirely for the recovery of my poor
girl."

"I will do my best, my lord," replied Wilton, "and trust I shall be
successful. Perhaps I may have more cause for anticipating a fortunate
result than even your grace, as I have means of instantly ascertaining
whether the persons to whom you have alluded have any share in this
matter or not; means which I must beg leave to keep secret, but which I
shall not fail to employ at once."

"Oh, I was sure," replied the Duke, "that if there was a man in England
could do it, you would be the person. I know your activity and your
courage too well, not to have every confidence in you."

The coachman had received orders to drive quick; and the hour of nine
was just striking on the bell of an old clock at Chelsea when the
carriage drove into the court-yard. Wilton sprang out after the Duke;
but he did not enter the house.

"I will but go to make some inquiries," he said, "and join your grace in
half an hour. I may learn something tonight, and under these
circumstances it is right to lose no time. I should be well pleased,
however, to have a cloak, if one of your grace's servants could bring me
either a common riding cloak or a roquelaure."

One was immediately procured; and, somewhat to the surprise and
admiration of the Duke, who was, as the reader may have perceived, one
of those people that are expressively denominated SLOW MEN, he set off
instantly to pursue his search, animated by feelings which had now
acquired even a deeper interest than ever, and by hopes of the
extraordinary circumstances in which he was placed proving the means of
attaining an object well worth the exertion of every energy and every
thought.

It was a fine frosty night, with the stars twinkling over head, but no
moon, so that his way amongst the narrow lanes which surrounded Beaufort
House at that time, was not very easily found. As he walked on, he heard
a sharp whistle before him, but it produced nothing, though he proposed
to himself to stand upon the defensive, judging from one or two little
signs and symptoms which he had seen, that the Green Dragon might
protect under the shadow of its wings many persons of a far more fierce
and dangerous description than it had itself proved, either as an
adversary of St. George, or as an inhabitant of the marshes near
Wantley.

He walked on fast, and a glimmering light in the direction from which he
had heard the sound proceed at length led him to the hospitable door of
the Green Dragon. One sign of hospitality, indeed, it wanted. It stood
not open for the entrance of every one who sought admission; and a
precautionary minute or two was suffered to pass before Wilton obtained
one glance of the interior.

At length, however, a small iron bolt, which prevented any impertinent
intrusion into the penetralia of the Green Dragon, was drawn back, and
the lusty form of the landlord made its appearance in the passage. He
instantly recognised Wilton, whose person, indeed, was not very easily
forgotten; and laying his finger on the side of his nose, with a look of
much sagacity, he led Wilton into a little room which seemed to be his
own peculiar abode.

"The Colonel is out, sir," he said, as soon as the door was closed;
"and there are things going on I do not much like."

Wilton's mind, full of the thought of Lady Laura, instantly connected
the landlord's words with the fact of her disappearance, but refrained
from asking any direct question regarding the lady. "Indeed, landlord,"
he said, "I am sorry to hear that. What has happened?"

"Why, sir," answered the landlord, "nothing particular; but only I wish
the Colonel was here--that is all. I do not like to see tampering with a
gentleman's friends. You understand, sir--I wish the Colonel was here."

"But, landlord," said Wilton, "can he not be found? I wish he were here,
too, and if you know where he is, I might seek him. I have something
important to say to him."

"Bless you, sir," replied the landlord, "he's half-way to Rochester by
this time. He went well nigh two hours ago, and he is not a man to lose
time by the way. You'll not see him before to-morrow night, and then,
may be, it will be too late. I'd tell you, sir, upon my life," he
continued, "if you could find him, for he bade me always do so; but you
will not meet with him on this side of Gravesend till to-morrow night,
when he will most likely be at the Nag's Head in St. James's Street
about the present blessed hour. I've known him a long time now, sir, and
I will say I never saw such another gentleman ON THE WAY, though there
is Mr. Byerly and many others that are all very gentlemanlike--but bless
you, sir, they do it nothing like the Colonel, so I do not wish him to
be wronged."

"Of course not," answered Wilton; "but tell me, landlord, had he heard
of this unfortunate business of the lady being carried off, before he
went?"

"Lord bless you, no, sir," replied the man--"I only heard of it myself
an hour ago. But one of our people was talking with a waterman just
above there, and he said that there was a covered barge--like a
gentleman's barge--came down at a great rate, about six o'clock; and he
vowed that he heard somebody moaning and crying in it; but likely that
is not true, for he never said a word till after he heard of the Duke's
young lady having been whipped up."

Wilton obtained easily the name and address of the waterman, and finding
that there was no chance whatever of gaining any further intelligence of
Green, or any means of communicating with him at an earlier period than
the following night, he took his leave of the good host, and rose to
depart. The landlord, however, stopped him for a moment.

"Stay a bit, Master Brown," he said. "You see, I rather think there are
one or two gentlemen in the lane waiting just to talk a word with my
good Lord Peterborough, who is likely to pass by; and as the Colonel
told me that you were not just in that way of business yourself, you had
better take the boy with you."

"No, indeed," replied Wilton, somewhat bitterly, "I am not exactly, as
you say, in that way of business myself. I am being taught to rob on a
larger scale."

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed the landlord, not at all understanding Wilton's
allusion to his political pursuits, "all these gentlemen keep the
highway a horseback too. This foot-padding is only done just for a
bit of amusement, and because the Colonel is out of the way. He would
be very angry if he knew it.--But I did not know you were upon the
road at all, sir."

"No, no," replied Wilton, smiling, "I was only joking, my good friend.
The sort of robbery I meant was aiding kings and ministers to rob and
cheat each other."

"Ay, ay, sir!" said the landlord, now entering into his meaning, and
taking as a good joke what Wilton had really spoken in sadness--"you
should have called it miching, sir--miching on a great scale. Well,
that's worse than t'other. Give me the King's Highway, I say! only
I'm too fat and pursy now."

This said, he went and called a little boy well trained in bearing
foaming pots from place to place, who soon conducted Wilton back in
safety to the house of the Duke, and then undertook to send up the
waterman with all speed. By this time the Messenger from the Earl of
Byerdale had arrived; but although the good gentlemen called
Messengers, in those days, exercised many of the functions of a
Bow-street officer, and possessed all the keen and cunning sagacity of
that two-legged race of ferrets, neither he nor Wilton could elicit
any farther information from the waterman than that which had been
already obtained.

"I think, sir, I think, your grace," said the Messenger, bowing low
to the statesman's secretary, and still lower to the Duke, "I think
that we must give the business up for tonight, for we shall make no
more of it. Tomorrow morning, as early as you please, Mr. Brown, I
shall be ready to go down the river with you, and I think we had
better have this young man's boat, as he saw the barge which he
thinks took the young lady away. Hark ye, my man," he continued,
addressing the waterman, "you've seen fifty guineas, haven't you?"

"Why, never in my own hand, your honour," replied the man, with a
grin.

"Well, then, you'll see them in your hand, and your own money too, if
by your information we find out this young lady; so go away now, and
try to discover any one of your comrades who knows something of the
matter, and come with a wherry to the Duke's stairs tomorrow morning
as soon as it is daylight."

"Ay, ay, we'll find her, sir, I'll bet something," said the man; and
with this speech, the only consolatory one which had yet been made by
any of the party, he left them. The Messenger having now done all
that he thought sufficient, retired comfortably to repose, shaking
from his mind at once all recollection of a business in which his
heart took no part. Nothing on earth marks more distinctly that the
Spirit or the Soul, with all its fine sensibilities and qualities,
both of suffering and acting, is of distinct being from the mere
Intellect, which is, in fact, but the soul's prime minister, than the
manner in which two people of equal powers of mind will act in
circumstances where the welfare of a third person, dear to the one,
and not dear to the other, is concerned. A sense of what is right,
some accidental duty, or mere common philanthropy, may often cause
the one to exert all his powers with the utmost activity to obtain
the object in view; but the moment that he has done all that seems
possible, the soul tells the mind to throw off the burden for the
time; and, casting away all thought of the matter, he lays himself
down comfortably to sleep and forgetfulness. The other, however, in
whose bosom some more deep interest exists, pursues the object also
by every means that can be suggested; but when all is done, and the
mind is wearied, the soul does not suffer the intellect to repose,
but, still engaged in the pursuit, calls the mind to labour with
anxious thought, even though that thought may be employed in vain.