Books: The Midnight Queen
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May Agnes Fleming >> The Midnight Queen
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Again the apothecary examined the body, and again he shook his
head dolefully.
"It's no use, sir: but, if it will please, you can try."
The right arm was bared; the lancet inserted, one or two black
drops sluggishly followed and nothing more.
"It's all a waste of time, you see," remarked the apothecary,
wiping his dreadful little weapon, "he's as dead as ever I saw
anybody in my life! How did he come to his end, sir - not by the
plague?"
"I don't know," said Sir Norman, gloomily. "I wish you would
tell me that."
"Can't do it, sir; my skill doesn't extend that far. There is no
plague-spot or visible wound or bruise on the person; so he must
have died of some internal complaint - probably disease of the
heart."
"Never knew him to have such a thing," said Sir Norman, sighing.
"It is very mysterious and very dreadful, and notwithstanding all
you have said, I cannot believe him dead. Can he not remain here
until morning, at least?"
The starved apothecary looked at him out of a pair of hollow,
melancholy eyes.
"Gold can do anything," was his plaintive reply.
"I understand. You shall have it. Are you sure you can do
nothing more for him?"
"Nothing whatever, sir; and excuse me, but there are customers in
the shop, and I must leave, sir."
Which he did, accordingly; and Sir Norman was left alone with all
that remained of him who, two hours before, was his warm friend.
He could scarcely believe that it was the calm majesty of death
that so changed the expression of that white face, and yet, the
longer he looked, the more deeply an inward conviction assured
him that it was so. He chafed the chilling hands and face, he
applied hartshorn and burnt feathers to the nostrils, but all
these applications, though excellent in their way, could not
exactly raise the dead to life, and, in this case, proved a
signal, failure. He gave up his doctoring, at last, in despair,
and folding his arms, looked down at what lay on the table, and
tried to convince himself that it was Ormiston. So absorbed was
he in the endeavor, that he heeded not the passing moments, until
it struck him with a shock that Hubert might even now be waiting
for him at the trysting-place, with news of Leoline. Love is
stronger than friendship, stronger than grief, stronger than
death, stronger than every other feeling in the world; so he
suddenly seized his bat, turned his back on Ormiston and the
apothecary's shop, and strode oft to the place he had quitted.
No Hubert was there, but two figures were passing slowly along in
the moonlight, and one of them he recognized, with an impulse to
spring at him like a tiger and strangle him. But he had been so
shocked and subdued by his recent discovery, that the impulse
which, half an hour before, would have been unhesitatingly
obeyed, went for nothing, now; and there was more of reproach,
even, than anger in his voice, as he went over and laid his hand
on the shoulder of one of them.
"Stay!" he said. "One word with you, Count L'Estrange. What
have you done with Leoline!"
"Ah! Sir Norman, as I live!" cried the count wheeling round and
lifting his hat. "Give me good even - or rather, good morning -
Kingsley, for St. Paul's has long gone the midnight hour."
Sir Norman, with his hand still on his shoulder, returned not the
courtesy, and regarding the gallant count with a stern eye.
"Where is Leoline?" he frigidly repeated.
"Really," said the count, with some embarrassment, "you attack me
so unexpectedly, and so like a ghost or a highwayman - by the way
I have a word to say to you about highwaymen, and was seeking you
to say it."
"Where is Leoline?" shouted the exasperated young knight,
releasing his shoulder, and clutching him by the throat. "Tell
me or, by Heaven! I'll pitch you neck and heels into the Thames!"
Instantly the sword of the count's companion flashed in the
moonlight, and, in two seconds more, its blue blade would have
ended the earthly career of Sir Norman Kingsley, had not the
count quickly sprang back, and made a motion for his companion to
hold.
"Wait!" he cried, commandingly, with his arm outstretched to
each. "Keep off! George, sheathe your sword and stand aside.
Sir Norman Kingsley, one word with you, and be it in peace."
"There can be no peace between us," replied that aggravated young
gentleman, fiercely "until you tell me what has become of
Leoline."
"All in good time. We have a listener, and does it mot strike
you our conference should be private!"
"Public or private, it matters not a jot, so that you tell me
what you've done with Leoline," replied Sir Norman, with whom it
was evident getting beyond this question was a moral and physical
impossibility. "And if you do not give an account of yourself,
I'll run you through as sure as your name is Count L'Estrange!"
A strange sort of smile came over the face of the count at this
direful threat, as if he fancied in that case, he was safe
enough; but Sir Norman, luckily, did not see it, and heard only
the suave reply:
"Certainly, Sir Norman; I shall be delighted to do so. Let us
stand over there in the shadow of that arch; and, George, do you
remain here within call."
The count blandly waved Sir Norman to follow, which Sir Norman
did, with much the mein of a sulky lion; and, a moment after,
both were facing each other within the archway.
"Well!" cried the young knight, impatiently; "I am waiting. Go
on!"
"My dear Kingsley," responded the count, in his easy way, "I
think you are laboring under a little mistake. I have nothing to
go on about; it is you who are to begin the controversy."
"Do you dare to play with me?" exclaimed Sir Norman, furiously.
"I tell you to take care how you speak! What have you done with
Leoline?"
"That is the fourth or fifth time that you've asked me that
question," said the count, with provoking indifference. "What do
you imagine I have done with her?"
Sir Norman's feelings, which had been rising ever since their
meeting, got up to such a height at this aggravating question,
that he gave vent to an oath, and laid his hand on him sword; but
the count's hand lightly interposed before it came out.
"Not yet, Sir Norman. Be calm; talk rationally. What do you
accuse me of doing with Leoline?"
"Do you dare deny having carried her off?"
"Deny it? No; I am never afraid to father my own deeds."
"Ah!" said Sir Norman grinding his teeth. "Then you acknowledge
it?"
"I acknowledge it - yes. What next?"
The perfect composure of his tone fell like a cool, damp towel on
the fire of Sir Norman's wrath. It did not quite extinguish the
flame, however - only quenched it a little - and it still hissed
hotly underneath.
"And you dare to stand before me and acknowledge such an act?"
exclaimed Sir Norman, perfectly astounded at the cool assurance
of the man.
"Verily, yea," said the count, laughing. "I seldom take the
trouble to deny my acts. What next?"
"There is nothing next," said Sir Norman, severely, "until we
have come to a proper understanding about this. Are you aware,
sir, that that lady is my promised bride?"
"No, I do not know that I am. On the contrary, I have an idea
she is mine."
"She was, you mean. You know she was forced into consenting by
yourself and her nurse!"
"Still she consented; and a bond is a bond, and a promise a
promise, all the world over."
"Not with a woman," said Sir Norman, with stern dogmatism. "It
is their privilege to break their promise and change their mind
sixty times an hour, if they choose. Leoline has seen fit to do
both, and has accepted me in your stead; therefore I command you
instantly to give her up!"
"Softly, my friend - softly. How was I to know all this?"
"You ought to have known it!" returned Sir Norman, in the same
dogmatical way; "or if you didn't, you do now; so say no more
about it. Where is she, I tell you?" repeated the young man, in
a frenzy.
"Your patience one moment longer, until we see which of us has
the best right to the lady. I have a prior claim."
"A forced one. Leoline does not care a snap far you - and she
loves me."
"What extraordinary bad taste!" raid the count, thoughtfully.
"Did she tell you that?"
"Yes; she did tell me this, and a great deal more. Come - have
done talking, and tell me where she is, or I'll - "
"Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said the count, teasingly. "Since
matters stand in this light I'll tell you what I'll do. I
acknowledge that I carried off Leoline, viewing her as my
promised bride, and have sent her to my own home in the care of a
trusty messenger, where I give you my word of honor, I have not
been since. She is as safe there, and much safer than in her own
house, until morning, and it would be a pity to disturb her at
this unseasonable hour. When the morning comes, we will both go
to her together - state our rival claims - and whichever one she
decides on accepting, can have her, and end the matter at once."
The count paused and meditated. This proposal was all very
plausible and nice on the surface, but Sir Norman with his usual
penetration and acuteness, looked farther than the surface, and
found a flaw.
"And how am I to know," he asked, doubtingly, "that you will not
go to her to-night and spirit her off where I will never hear of
either of you again?"
"In the very best way in the world: we will not part company
until morning comes, are we at peace?" inquired the count,
smiling and holding out but hand.
"Until then, we will have to be, I suppose," replied Sir Norman,
rather ungraciously taking the hand as if it were red-hot, and
dropping it again. "And we are to stand here and rail at each
other, in the meantime?"
"By no means! Even the most sublime prospect tires when surveyed
too long. There is a little excursion which I would like you to
accompany me on, if you have no objection."
"Where to?"
"To the ruin, where you have already been twice to-night."
Sir Norman stared.
"And who told you this fact, Sir Count?"
"Never mind; I have heard it. Would you object to a third
excursion there before morning?"
Again Sir Norman paused and meditated. There was no use in
staying where he was, that would bring him no nearer to Leoline,
and nothing was to be gained by killing the count beyond the mere
transitory pleasure of the thing. On the other hand, he had an
intense and ardent desire to re-visit the ruin, and learn what
had become of Miranda -the only draw-back being that, if they
were found they would both be most assuredly beheaded. Then,
again, there was Hubert.
"Well," inquired the count, as Sir Norman looked up.
"I have no objection to go with you to the ruin," was the reply,
"only this; if we are seen there, we will be dead men two minutes
after; and I have no desire to depart this life until I have had
that promised interview with Leoline."
"I have thought of that," said the count, "and have provided for
it. We may venture in the lion's den without the slightest
danger: all that is required being your promise to guide us
thither. Do you give it?"
"I do; but I expect a friend here shortly, and cannot start until
he comes."
"If you mean me by that, I am here," said a voice at his elbow;
and, looking round, he saw Hubert himself, standing there, a
quiet listener and spectator of the scene.
Count L'Estrange looked at him with interest, and Hubert,
affecting not to notice the survey, watched Sir Norman.
"Well," was that individual's eager address, "were you
successful?"
The count was still watching the boy so intently, that that most
discreet youth was suddenly seized with a violent fit of
coughing, which precluded all possibility of reply for at least
five minutes; and Sir Norman, at the same moment, felt his arm
receive a sharp and warning pinch.
"Is this your friend?" asked the count. "He is a very small one,
and seems in a bad state of health."
Sir Norman, still under the influence of the pinch, replied by an
inaudible murmur, and looked with a deeply mystified expression,
at Hubert.
"He bears a strong resemblance to the lady we were talking of a
moment ago," continued the count - "is sufficiently like her, in
fact, to be her brother; and, I see wears the livery of the Earl
of Rochester."
"God spare you your eye-sight!" said Sir Norman, impatiently.
"Can you not see, among the rest, that I have a few words to say
to him in private? Permit us to leave you for a moment."
"There is no need to do so. I will leave you, as I have a few
words to say to the person who is with me."
So saying the count walked away, and Hubert followed him with a
most curious look.
"Now," cried Sir Norman, eagerly, "what news?"
"Good!" said the boy. "Leoline is safe!"
"And where?"
"Not far from here. Didn't he tell you?"
"The count? No - yes; he said she was at his house."
"Exactly. That is where she is," said Hubert, looking much
relieved. "And, at present, perfectly safe."
"And did you see her?"
"Of course; and heard her too. She was dreadfully anxious to
come with me; but that was out of the question."
"And how is she to be got away?"
"That I do not clearly see. We will have to bring a ladder, and
there will be so much danger, and so little chance of success,
that, to me it seems an almost hopeless task. Where did you meet
Count L'Estrange?"
"Here; and he told me that he bad abducted her, and held her a
prisoner in his own house."
"He owned that did he? I wonder you were not fit to kill him?"
"So I was, at first, but he talked the matter over somehow."
And hereupon Sir Norman briefly and quickly rehearsed the
substance of their conversation. Hubert listened to it
attentively, and laughed as he concluded.
"Well, I do not see that you can do otherwise, Sir Norman, and I
think it would be wise to obey the count for to-night, at least.
Then to-morrow - if things do not go on well, we can take the law
in our own hands."
"Can we?" said Sir Norman, doubtfully, "I do wish you would tell
me who this infernal count is, Hubert, for I am certain you
know."
"Not until to-morrow - you shall know him then."
"To-morrow! to-morrow!" exclaimed Sir Norman, disconsolately.
"Everything is postponed until to-morrow! Oh, here comes the
count back again. Are we going to start now, I wonder?"
"Is your friend to accompany us on our expedition?" inquired the
count, standing before them. "It shall be quite as you say, Mr.
Kingsley."
"My friend can do as he pleases. What do you say, Hubert?"
"I should like to go, of all things, if neither of you have any
objections."
"Come on, then," said the count, "we will find horses in
readiness a short distance from this."
The three started together, and walked on in silence through
several streets, until they reached a retired inn, where the
count's recent companion stood, with the horses. Count
L'Estrange whispered a few words to him, upon which he bowed and
retired; and in an instant they were all in the saddle, and
galloping away.
The journey was rather a silent one, and what conversation there
was, was principally sustained by the count. Hubert's usual flow
of pertinent chat seemed to have forsaken him, and Sir Norman had
so many other things to think of - Leoline, Ormiston, Miranda,
and the mysterious count himself - that he felt in no mood for
talking. Soon, they left the city behind them; the succeeding
two miles were quickly passed over, and the "Golden Crown," all
dark and forsaken, now hove in sight. As they reached this, and
cantered up the road leading to the ruin, Sir Norman drew rein,
and said:
"I think our best plan would be, to dismount, and lead our horses
the rest of the way, and not incur any unnecessary danger by
making a noise. We can fasten them to these trees, where they
will be at hand when we come out."
"Wait one moment," said the count, lifting his finger with a
listening look. "Listen to that!"
It was a regular tramp of horses' hoofs, sounding in the silence
like a charge of cavalry. While they looked, a troop of horsemen
came galloping up, and came to a halt when they saw the count.
No words can depict the look of amazement Sir Norman's face wore;
but Hubert betrayed not the least surprise. The count glanced at
his companions with a significant smile, and riding back, held a
brief colloquy with him who seemed the leader of the horsemen.
He rode up to them, smiling still, and saying, as he passed
"Now then, Kingsley; lead on, and we will follow!"
"I go not one step further," said Sir Norman, firmly, "until I
know who I am leading. Who are you, Count L'Estrange?"
The count looked at him, but did not answer. A warning hand -
that of Hubert - grasped Sir Norman's arm; and Hubert's voice
whispered hurriedly in his ear:
"Hush, for God's sake! It is the king!"
CHAPTER XX.
AT THE PLAGUE-PIT.
The effect of the whisper was magical. Everything that had been
dark before, became clear as noonday; and Sir Norman sat
absolutely astounded at his own stupidity in not having found it
out for himself before. Every feature, notwithstanding the
disguise of wig and beard, became perfectly familiar; and even
through the well-assumed voice, he recognized the royal tones.
It struck him all at once, and with it the fact of Leoline's
increased danger. Count L'Estrange was a formidable rival, but
King Charles of England was even more formidable.
Thought is quick - quicker than the electric telegraph or balloon
traveling; and in two seconds the whole stated things, with all
the attendant surprises and dangers, danced before his mind's eye
like a panorama; and he comprehended the past, the present, and
the future, before Hubert had uttered the last word of his
whisper. He turned his eyes, with a very new and singular
sensation, upon the quondam count, and found that gentlemen
looking very hard at him, with, a preternaturally grave
expression of countenance. Sir Norman knew well as anybody the
varying moods of his royal countship, and, notwithstanding his
general good nature, it was not safe to trifle with him at all
times; so he repressed every outward sign of emotion whatever,
and resolved to treat him as Count L'Estrange until he should
choose to sail under his own proper colors.
"Well," said the count, with unruffled eagerness, "and so you
decline to go any further Sir Norman?"
Hubert's eye was fixed with a warning glance upon him, and Sir
Norman composedly answered
"No, count; I do not absolutely decline; but before I do go any
further, I should like to know by what right do you bring all
these men here, and what are your intentions in so doing."
"And if I refuse to answer?"
"Then I refuse to move a step further in the business!" said Sir
Norman, with decision.
"And why, my good friend? You surely can have no objection to
anything that can be done against highwaymen and cut-throats."
"Right! I have no objections, but others may."
"Whom do you mean by others?"
"The king, for instance. His gracious majesty is whimsical at
times; and who knows that he may take it into his royal head to
involve us somehow with them. I know the adage, 'put not your
trust in princes.'"
"Very good," said the count, with a slight and irrepressible
smile; "your prudence is beyond all praise! But I think, in this
matter I may safely promise to stand between you and the king's
wrath. Look at those horsemen beyond you, and see if they do not
wear the uniform of his majesty's own body-guard."
Sir Norman looked, and saw the dazzling of their splendid
equipments glancing and glistening in the moonbeams.
"I see. Then you have the royal permission for all this?"
"You have said it. Now, most scrupulous of men, proceed!"
"Look there!" exclaimed Hubert, suddenly pointing to a corner of
the rain. "Someone has seen us, and is going now to give the
alarm."
"He shall miss it, though!" said Sir Norman, detecting, at the
same instant, a dark figure getting through the broken doorway;
and striking spurs into his horse, he was instantaneously beside
it, out of the saddle, and had grasped the retreater by the
shoulder.
"By your leave!" exclaimed Sir Norman. "Not quite so fast!
Stand out here in the moonlight, until I see who you are."
"Let me go!" cried the man, grappling with his opponent. "I know
who you are, and I swear you'll never see moonlight or sunlight
again, if you do not instantly let me go."
Sir Norman recognized the voice with a perfect shout of delight.
"The duke, by all that's lucky! O, I'll let you go: but not until
the hangman gets hold of you. Villain and robber, you shall pay
for your misdeeds now!"
"Hold!" shouted the commanding voice of Count L'Estrange.
"Cease, Sir Norman Kingsley! there is no time, and this is no
person for you to scoff with. He is our prisoner, and shall show
us the nearest way into this den of thieves. Give me your sword,
fellow, and be thankful I do not make you shorter by a head with
it."
"You do not know him!" cried Sir Norman; in vivid excitement. "I
tell you this is the identical scoundrel who attempted to rob and
murder you a few hours ago."
"So much the better! He shall pay for that and all his other
shortcomings, before long! But, in the meantime, I order him to
bring us before the rest of this outlawed crew."
"I shall do nothing of the kind," said the duke, sullenly.
"Just as you please. Here, my men, two of you take hold of this
scoundrel, and dispatch him at once."
The guard had all dismounted; and two of them came forward with
edifying obedience, to do as they were told.
The effect upon the duke was miraculous. Instantly he started
up, with an energy perfectly amazing:
"No, no, no! I'll do it! Come this way, gentlemen, and I'll
bring you direct into their midst. O good Lord! whatever will
become of us?"
This last frantic question was addressed to society in general,
but Sir Norman felt called upon to answer:
"That's very easily told, my man. If you and the rest of your
titled associates receive your deserts (as there is no doubt you
will) from the gracious hand of our sovereign lord, the king, the
strongest rope and highest gallows at Tyburn will be your
elevated destiny."
The duke groaned dismally, and would have come to a halt to beg
mercy on the spot, had not Hubert given him a probe in, the ribs
with the point of his dagger, that sent him on again, with a
distracted howl.
"Why, this is a perfect Hades!" said the count, as he stumbled
after, in the darkness. "Are you sure we are going right,
Kingsley"
The inquiry was not unnatural, for the blackness was perfectly
Tartarian, and the soldiers behind were knocking their tall shins
against all sorts of obstacles as they groped blindly along,
invoking from them countless curses, not loud, but deep.
"I don't know whether we are or not," said Sir Norman
significantly; "only, God help him if we're not! Where are you
taking us to, you black-looking bandit?"
"I give you my word of honor, gentlemen," said an imploring voice
in the darkness, "that I'm leading you, by the nearest way, to
the Midnight Court. All I ask of you in return is, that you
will let me enter before you; for if they find that I lead you
in, my life will not be worth a moment's purchase."
"As if it ever was worth it," said Sir Norman, contemptuously.
"On with you, and be thankful I don't save your companions the
trouble, by making an end of you where you stand."
"Rush along, old fellow," suggested Hubert, giving him another
poke with his dagger, that drew forth a second doleful howl.
Notwithstanding the darkness, Sir Norman discovered that they
were being led in a direction exactly opposite that by which he
had previously effected an entrance. They were in the vault, he
knew, by the darkness, though they had descended no stair-case,
and he was just wondering if their guide was not meditating some
treachery by such a circuitous route, when suddenly a tumult of
voices, and uproar, and confusion, met his ear. At the same
instant, their guide opened a door, revealing a dark passage,
illuminated by a few rays of light, and which Sir Norman
instantly recognized as that leading to the Black Chamber.
Here again the duke paused, and turned round to them with a
wildly-imploring face.
"Gentlemen, I do conjure you to let me enter before you do! I
tell you they will murder me the very instant they discover I
have led you here!"
"That would be a great pity!" said the count; "and the gallows
will be cheated of one of its brightest ornaments! That is your
den of thieves, I suppose, from which all this uproar comes?"
"It is. And as I have guided you safely to it, surely I deserve
this trifling boon."
"Trifling, do you call it," interposed Sir Norman, "to let you
make your escape, as you most assuredly will do the moment you
are out of our sight! No, no; we are too old birds to be caught
with such chaff; and though the informer always gets off
scot-free, your services deserve no such boon; for we could have
found our way without your help! On with you, Sir Robber; and if
your companions do kill you, console yourself with the thought
that they have only anticipated the executioner by a few days!"
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