Mistress Nell Part 22

This exasperated the landlord still further. He began to flutter about the room aimlessly, bill in hand. He presented it to Charles and he presented it to Nell, who would have none of it; while at intervals he called loudly for the constable.

"Peace, my man," entreated Nell; "be still for mercy's sake."

"Good lack, my lady," pleaded the landlord, in despair, "good lack, but you would not see a poor man robbed by a vagabond, would ye? Constable Swallow!"

The situation was growing serious indeed. The King was mirthful still, but Nell was fearful.

"Nell, have you no money to stop this heathen's mouth?" he finally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as he caught up his bonnet and tossed it jauntily upon his head.

"Not a farthing," replied she, sharply. "I was invited to sup, not pay the bill."

"If the King knew this rascal," yelled the landlord at the top of his voice, pointing to Charles, "he would be behind the bars long ago."

This was too much for his Majesty, who broke into the merriest of laughs.

"Verily, I believe you," he admitted. Then he fell to laughing again, almost rolling off the bench in his glee.

"Master Constable," wildly repeated the landlord, at the kitchen-door.

"Let my new wife alone; they are making off with the house."

Nell was filled with consternation.

"He'll raise the neighbourhood, Sire," she whispered to Charles. "Have you no money to stop this heathen's mouth?"

"Not even holes in my pockets," calmly replied the Merry Monarch.

"Odsfish, what company am I got into!" sighed Nell. She ran to the landlord and seized his arm in her endeavour to quiet him.

The landlord, however, was beside himself. He stood at the kitchen-door gesticulating ferociously and still shouting at the top of his voice: "Constable Swallow! Help, help; thieves; Constable Swallow!"

Swallow staggered into the room with all his dignity aboard. Tankard in hand, he made a dive for the table, and catching it firmly, surveyed the scene.

Nell turned to her lover for protection.

"Murder, hic!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the constable. "Thieves! What's the row?--Hic!"

"Arrest this blackguard," commanded the landlord, nervously, "this perfiler of honest men."

"Arrest!--You drunken idiot!" indignantly exclaimed Charles; and his sword cut the air before the constable's eyes.

Nell seized his arm. Her woman's intuition showed her the better course.

"You will raise a nest of them," she whispered. "You need your wits, Sire; not your sword."

"Nay; come on, I say," cried Charles, fearlessly. "We'll see what his Majesty's constables are made of."

"You rogue--_Posse!_" exclaimed Swallow, starting boldly for the King, then making a brilliant retreat, calling loudly for help, as the rapier tickled him in the ribs.

"You ruffian--_Posse!_" he continued to call, alternately, first to one and then to the other; for his fear paralyzed all but his tongue.

"You outlaw--_Posse commi-ti-t.i.tous_--hic!"

Buzzard also now entered from his warm nest in the kitchen, so intoxicated that he vented his enthusiasm in song, which in this case seemed apt:

_"The man that is drunk is as great as a king."_

"Another champion of the King's law!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Charles, not without a shadow of contempt in his voice, once more a.s.suming an att.i.tude of defence.

"Oh, Charles!" pleaded Nell, again catching his arm.

"_Posse_, arrest that vagabond," commanded the constable, from a point of safety behind the table.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the obedient Buzzard. "On what charge--hic?"

"He's a law-breaker and a robber!" yelled the watchful landlord.

"He called the law a drunken idiot. Hic--hic!" woefully wailed Swallow.

"Odsbud, that's treason! Arrest him, _posse_--hic!"

"Knave, I arrest--hic!" a.s.serted Buzzard.

The _posse_ started boldly enough for his game, but was suddenly brought to a stand-still in his reeling course by the sharp point of the rapier playing about his legs. He made several indignant efforts to overcome the obstacle. The point of the blade was none too gentle with him, even as he beat a retreat; and his enthusiasm waned.

"Arrest him yourself--hic!" he exclaimed.

Swallow's face grew red with rage. To have his orders disobeyed fired him with much more indignation of soul than the escape of the ruffian, who was simply defrauding the landlord of a dinner. He turned hotly upon the insubordinate _posse_, crying:

"I'll arrest you, you Buzzard--hic!"

"I'll arrest you, you Swallow--hic!" with equal dignity retorted Buzzard.

"I'm his Majesty's constable--hic!" hissed Swallow, from lips charged with air, bellows-like.

"I'm his Majesty's _posse_--hic!" hissed Buzzard in reply.

The two drunken representatives of the law seized each other angrily.

The landlord, in despair, endeavoured hopelessly to separate them.

"A wrangle of the generals," laughed Charles. "Now is our time." He looked about quickly for an exit.

"Body o' me! The vagabonds'll escape," shouted the landlord.

"Fly, fly!" said Nell. "This way, Charles."

She ran hastily toward the steps leading to the entry-way; the King a.s.sisted her.

"Stop, thief! Stop, thief!" screamed the landlord. "The bill! The bill!"

"Send it to the d.u.c.h.ess!" replied Nell, gaily, as she and the Merry Monarch darted into the night.