The White Gauntlet Part 51

Such was the unamiable menace with which Scarthe completed the comparison of the gloves.

That, just taken from the hat of Holtspur, was now transferred to the breast of his doublet. Quick and secret was the transfer: as if he deemed it desirable that the act should not be observed.

"Go!" he commanded, addressing himself to one of the troopers who attended him, "go into the garden--if there be such a thing about this wretched place. If not, take to the fields; and procure me some flowers. Red ones--no matter what sort, so that they be of a bright red colour. Bring them hither, and be quick about it!"

The soldier--accustomed to obey orders without questioning--hurried out to execute the singular command.

"You," continued Scarthe, speaking to the other trooper, who had entered with him, "you set about collecting those papers. Secure that valise.

It appears to need no further packing. See that it be taken to Bulstrode. Search every room in the house; and bring out any arms or papers you may light upon. You know your work. Do it briskly!"

With like alacrity the second attendant hastened to perform the part allotted to him; and Scarthe was for the moment left to himself.

"I should be more hungry," muttered he, "after these doc.u.ments, I see scattered about, were I in need of them. No doubt there's many a traitor's name inscribed on their pages: and enough besides to compromise half the squires in the county. More than one, I warrant me, through this silent testimony, would become ent.i.tled to a cheap lodging in that grand tenement eastward of Cheap. It's a sort of thing I don't much relish; though now I'm into it, I may as well make a wholesale sweep of these conspiring churls. As for Holtspur and Sir Marmy, I need no written evidence of their guilt. My own oral testimony, conjoined with that of my worthy sub, will be sufficient to deprive one--or both, if need be--of their heads. So--to the devil with the doc.u.ments!"

As he said this, he turned scornfully away from the table on which the papers were strewed.

"Stay!" he exclaimed--the instant after facing round again, with a look that betokened some sudden change in his views; "Not so fast, Richard Scarthe! Not so fast! Who knows that among this forest of treasonous scribbling, I may not find some flower of epistolary correspondence--a _billet-doux_. Ha! if there should be one from _her_! Strange, I did not think of it before. If--if--if--"

In the earnestness, with which he proceeded to toss over the litter of letters and other doc.u.ments, his hypothetical thought, whatever it was, remained unspoken.

For several minutes he busied himself among the papers--opening scores of epistles--in the expectation of finding one in a feminine hand, and bearing the signature: "Marion Wade."

He was disappointed. No such name was to be found among the correspondents of Henry Holtspur. They were all of the masculine gender--all, or nearly all, politicians and conspirators!

Scarthe was about discontinuing his search--for he had opened everything in the shape of a letter--when a doc.u.ment of imposing aspect attracted his attention. It bore the royal signet upon its envelope.

"By the eyes of Argus!" cried he, as his own fell upon the well-known seal; "What see I? A letter from the King! What can his majesty have to communicate to this faithful subject, I wonder? Zounds! 'tis addressed to myself!"

"_For ye Captain Scarthe_,

"_Command: H.M. Royal Cuira.s.siers_,

"_Bulstrode Park_,

"_s.h.i.+re of Buckingham_."

"The intercepted despatch! Here's a discovery! Henry Holtspur a footpad! In league with one, at all events--else how should he have become possessed of this? So--so! Not a traitor's, but a felon's death shall he die! The gibbet instead of the block! Ha! Mistress Marion Wade! you will repent the gift of your pretty glove, when you learn that you have bestowed it on a thief! By Saint Sulpiece! 'twill be a comical _eclairciss.e.m.e.nt_!"

"Ho, fellow! You've got the flowers?"

"I have, captain. They be the best I can find. There a'nt nothing but weeds about the old place, an' withered at that."

"So much the better: I want them a trifle withered. These will do-- colour, shape--just the thing. Here I arrange them in a little bunch, and tie it to this hat. Fix them, as if the clasp confined them in their place. Be smart, my man; and make a neat thing of it!" The trooper plied his fingers with all the plastic ingenuity in his power; and, in a few seconds of time, a somewhat ragged bouquet was arranged, and adjusted on the beaver belonging to the black horseman--in the same place late occupied by the white gauntlet.

"Now!" said Scarthe, making a stride in the direction of the door, "Take out this hat. Place it on the head of the prisoner; and hark ye, corporal; you needn't let _him_ see the transformation that has been made, nor need you show it conspicuously to any one else. You understand me?"

The trooper having replied to these confidential commands with a nod and a knowing look, hurried off to execute them.

Stubbs, in charge of the guards outside, had already mounted Holtspur on horseback; where, with hands fast bound, and, for additional security, tied to the croup of the saddle,--his ankles also lashed to the stirrup leathers, and a steel-clad cuira.s.sier, with drawn sword on each side of him--he looked like a captive left without the slightest chance of escape.

Even thus ignominiously pinioned, no air of the felon had he. His head, though bare, was not bowed; but carried proudly erect, without swagger, and with that air of tranquil indifference which distinguishes the true cavalier, even in captivity. His rough, and somewhat vagabond captors, could not help admiring that heroic courage--of which, but a few days before, they had witnessed such splendid proof.

"What a pity," whispered one, "what a pity he's not on our side! He'd make a n.o.ble officer of cavalry!"

"Help Master Holtspur to his hat!" tauntingly commanded Scarthe, as he clambered upon his own steed. "The wind must not be permitted to toss those waving locks too rudely. How becoming they will be upon the block! Ha! ha! ha!"

As commanded, his hat was placed upon the prisoner's head.

The "forward," brayed out by the bugle, drowned the satirical laugh of their leader, while the troopers, in files of two--with Scarthe at their head, Stubbs in the rear, and Holtspur near the centre--moved slowly across the lawn, leaving the mansion of Stone Dean without a master!

Volume Two, Chapter XIV.

On perceiving that his presence could no longer be of any service to his patron, and might be detrimental to himself, Gregory Garth had betaken his body to a place of concealment--one of the garrets of Stone Dean-- where, through a dormer window, he had been witness to all that transpired outside.

As the last of Scarthe's troopers pa.s.sed out through the gateway of Stone Dean, the ex-footpad came down from his hiding-place, and reappeared in front of the house.

Guided by a similar instinct, the Indian had also made himself invisible; and now reappearing at the same time, the two stood face to face; but without the ability to exchange either word or idea.

Gregory could not understand the pantomimic language of the Indian; while the latter knew not a word of English--the cavalier always conversing with him in his native tongue.

It is true that neither had much to say to the other. Both had witnessed the capture of their common patron and master. Oriole only knew that he was in the hands of enemies; while Garth more clearly comprehended the character of these enemies, and their motive for making him a prisoner.

Now that he _was_ a prisoner, the first and simultaneous thought of both was--whether there was any chance of effecting his escape.

With the American this was an instinct; while perhaps with any other Englishman, than one of Garth's kidney, the idea would scarce have been entertained.

But the ex-footpad, in the course of his professional career, had found his way out of too many prisons, to regard the accomplishment of such a feat as either impossible or improbable, and he at once set about reflecting upon what steps should be taken for the rescue, and release of Henry Holtspur.

Garth was sadly in need of a second head to join counsel with his own.

That of the Indian, however good it might be, was absolutely of no use to him: since there was no way of getting at the ideas it contained.

"The unfort'nate creetur!" exclaimed he, after several vain attempts at a mutual understanding of signs; "he an't no good to me--not half so much as my own old dummies: for they wur o' some sarvice. Well, I maun try an' manage 'ithout him."

Indeed Gregory, whether wis.h.i.+ng it or not, was soon reduced to this alternative: for the Indian, convinced that he could not make himself intelligible, desisted from the attempt. Following out another of his natural instincts, he parted from the ex-footpad, and glided off upon the track of the troopers--perhaps with some vague idea of being more serviceable to his master if once by his side again.

"The dummy's faithful to him as a hound," muttered Gregory, seeing the Indian depart; "same as my ole clo' pals war to me. Sir Henry ha' did 'im a sarvice some time, I dar say--as he does everybody whenever he can. Now, what's to be done for _him_?"

The footpad stood for some minutes in a reflecting att.i.tude.

"They've ta'en him up to Bulstrode, whar they're quartered. No doubt about that. They won't keep him there a longish time. They mean no common prison to hold _him_. Newgate, or the Tower--one o' the two are sure o' bein' his lodging afore the morrow night?

"What chance o' a rescue on the road? Ne'er a much, I fear. Dang seize it! my dummies wouldn't do for that sort o' thing. There'll go a whole troop o' these kewreseers along wi' him? No doubt o't.

"I wonder if they'll take him up the day? Maybe they woant; an' if they doant, theer mout be a chance i' the night. I wish I had some one to help me with a good think.

"Hanged if I kin believe ole Dancey to be a treetur. 'Tan't possible, after what he ha' sayed to me, no later than yesterday mornin'. No, 'tan't possible. He ha' know'd nothin' 'bout this bizness; and it be all the doin's o' that devil's get o' a Walford.

"I'll go see Dancey. I'll find out whether he had a hand in't or no.

If no, then he'll do summat to help me; and maybe that daughter o'