CHAPTER XV.

THE PLOT THICKENS.

"Blunderbusses!" shrieked a voice, which seemed to retreat, as it spoke, into the room's remotest corners; "the gracious powers above! Mind, for mercy's sake, be careful. Not loaded?" piteously went on the speaker. "Say they're not loaded, Master Rumbold."

"Not yet, Master Sheriff," grimly smiled Rumbold.

"But whatever can we be wanting of such fearful things?" insisted Goodenough.

"That remains to be seen," laughed West, approaching the chest; and selecting a weapon from its gleaming contents, he placed it in Rumbold's hands. "Here, Master Hannibal, is the one I promised you for your special use. A jewel of a thing. Be careful of it."

"Ay, yes, yes, do," entreated Goodenough; "hear what Master West says about it himself."

"A sacred trust indeed," murmured Rumbold, thoughtfully handling the weapon, "and wielding a mighty power, for good or for ill. Come, Parson Ferguson," he went on, suddenly changing his mood, and turning to the tall, lean, sable-clad individual standing on his right "What say you? Will you consecrate it?"

[Sidenote: Foul play.]

"Of a surety it has my blessing," answered Ferguson, displaying his ugly yellow fangs of teeth in a broad grin.

"Well, well, to business then," continued the maltster, carefully restoring the blunderbuss to its place and closing the chest. "Come, have we our parts by heart? You, and you," he went on, singling out three of the company, "and you."

"Oy, oy! sartain sure enough we be o' ourn," said the foremost of the trio, slouching to the front, and elbowing his two comrades forward along with him, so that Ruth could plainly discern their features, and recognized them for the foreman of the malting-yard, one of his subordinates, and a man who worked in the corn-chambers. "Roight enough we be, an't us?" he went on, appealing to the sheepish, hangdog looking couple beside him. "'Tes for we to be trampin' out Stanstead way, an' hidin' us among the hedges and ditches till us catches soight o' the king's coach an six; an' then 'tes for we to be turnin' tail in a twinklin', and run as quick--as quick as--"

"Twice as quick anyhow, friend, as the twenty-four legs of his majesty's Flanders mares," said Howard with a slight yawn.

"Back agin to the Rye House here," continued the spokesman, "an' be tellin' the rest o' yer which coach the king's a-ridin' in--"

"And how many--"

"I'm a comin' to that, an't I? an' how many's a follerin' after 'em in coaches too, an' how many guards a 'orseback--"

"Six at the outside," said Rumbold. "'Tis never more. You, colonel," he went on, addressing Walcot, "undertake to attack them."

"As a soldier, I claim that privilege," answered Walcot.

"If report speaks truth, you're not wanting in bravery," said Rumsey, measuring the stately and graceful figure of Walcot with rather jealous eyes; "but six is a biggish handful for one man to tackle; and if," he went on with a sneer, "your gift of second sight should chance to be making twelve of it--"

"Or if in fact there should happen to be so many," quietly interrupted Walcot, "I trust I may not be found wanting--nor tripping neither."

"As to the beasts," said Rumbold quickly, "we shall have little trouble with them. They'll all be spent and weak as water with the long stage."

"They change at Hoddesdon, do they not?" said Howard.

[Sidenote: Preparations for treason.]

"If they were foreordained to reach there, they would, my lord," rebukefully replied Rumbold. "And now, what about the disguises?" he continued, addressing his foreman.

The son of the soil scratched his carroty poll, and gazed round with lack-lustre eyes. "The what, maaster?" he said at last.

"The labourers' clothes, man, that you promised to furnish my Lord Howard here with, and the other gentlemen."

[Sidenote: The disguises.]

"Oy, oy," and a gleam of intelligence broke over the stolid face. "Now you speak English, Maaster Rumbold. Yes, they be all roight enough; leastways they will be. But 'tes jest a bit of a job loike, doant'e see, Master Rumbold. Stands to reason as 'tes, doant it? Gettin' tagether o' poor folks' togs. The quality's got any quantity o' coats an' britches, silk and satin', an' velvet an' double broadcloth into the bargain; but 'taint every day an' ollis, as yer poor man's gotten his one decent smock. But, never ya fret, my lord. Me an' these here," and he jerked his thumb at his two comrades, "a doin' our main best; an' the blame woan't be to our door, if us doant make such clod poles and scares o' ya, an' these here other dandy gen'lemen, as the very crows sha'ant be able to make up their minds whether to fly away from ya for freight, or peck yer eyes out as ya walk along."

"That is satisfactory," said Rumbold. "The next question," he went on, letting his gaze rest on the elegant proportions of Howard, who had thrown himself in a careless lounging attitude into a tall-backed Cordovan leather chair, "the next question is"--

"So it be," interrupted the foreman of the malt-yard; "so it be, maaster, an' 'twas no more than us was a sayin' of as we coomed along here. Warn't us?" and again he appealed to his mates, who nodded stolidly. "'Tes sartin as our cat's got a tail, there's not one o' the lot o' ya as looks to be trusted loike."

"Fellow!" fiercely demanded Howard, springing to his feet, "what do you mean?"

[Sidenote: How to stop the King's coach.]

"The wagon is a main heavy one," continued the man, unheeding the angry frowns of Howard and the rest, "and'll need a power of elbergrease afore't can be turned over; an' we can't be lendin' you fine gen'lemen that, along with our britches an' smocks. You'd best have the cart overturned by we first," and he pointed to his companions, "afore we start away, doant ya know?"

"Certainly not," said Howard haughtily; "I hope we're not such idiots that we can't do carter's work."

"Carter's work! Why! 'tes carter's work to be keepin' of his wheels from gettin' bottom uppermost. Noa, noa, ye'll never be but gimcrack soarts o' carters, take ya at ya best, an' if ye're for doing of the upset yerselves, there should be six o' ye to the work, my lord, or ye'll make a mess o't, be shure."

"Then," said Howard, "it remains for you to supply us with the six needful pairs of breeches, and hobnailed shoes."

"I'll swear for the britches, an' the shoes ye'll have to make stretch as far as they'll go."

"And you," said Rumbold, turning to West and a group near.

"Ay, we engage for the coachman, the postilion, and the horses," nodded West. "We're quite content, Master Hannibal, to leave you to bring down the Blackbird and the Chaffinch. You're a fine shot, and ought to do it at one priming, with such tools as you've got for it; tho' 'tis true you'll be two to one, and your birds have got some blood in them."

"Ay, but their claws will be blunt," laughed Rumsey. "'Tis scarce probable, I mean, that they'll carry so much as a sword between them. They never do."

"Still assistance should be at hand, and close too," said Sir Thomas Armstrong.

[Sidenote: Lawrence Lee in the toils.]

"Among the whole twoscore names written here," said Rumbold, drawing a large roll of parchment from his pocket, and unrolling it, he glanced over its contents, "there is not a steadier hand, nor a stouter heart, than my young neighbour's here of Nether Hall, Lawrence Lee."

"Lawrence Lee!" echoed Walcot, casting an involuntary glance behind him ere the words had well left his lips. Could he be such a prey to strange fancies, or had he in very deed and truth heard a low gasping breath break from the wall? "You're certain he's to be trusted?"

"I flatter myself," replied the maltster, a faint smile curling his lips, "that Master Lawrence Lee would think twice before he refused to comply with the slightest wish of Richard Rumbold."

"Wasn't his father a Royalist?" said Howard.

"And what if he were, my lord?" rejoined Rumbold. "Lee is a lad of spirit, and exercises his right of private judgment."

"Exactly," said Howard, with a dubious shrug. "He takes leave to call his soul his own. And that, of course, is all in this business. But how about his heart? You have a daughter, have you not, Master Hannibal?"

"And what if I have, my lord?" said the maltster coldly.

"Oh, no offence," carelessly returned Howard; "but she is a comely lass, they say. Quite a rustic beauty."

"Beauty is skindeep, my lord. She is a good child."

"And minds her doll," broke out Rumsey in a hoarse laugh.

"Nay," said Rumbold in displeased tones, "my Ruth's doll-days are about over. But she minds her wheel; and meddles not in such matters as we are discussing--or should be discussing," he added, as the clock over their heads struck midnight. "Moments are precious."

"And for my part," said Howard, this time with an unmistakable yawn, "I think we are misusing them odiously. There is a fortnight still before the king comes back from Newmarket; and between this and then all sorts of things may occur to change his plans."

"What is to be, will be," said Rumbold solemnly.

[Sidenote: A deep snore.]

"Oh! that I grant you," said Lord Howard with a portentous yawn, glancing at the same time towards one of the window embrasures, whence issued a prolonged deep sound, not unlike the smothered growl of a wild beast, but which in fact emanated from the nose of Sheriff Goodenough, who lay back, lost in the enjoyment of a snatched forty winks. "That I grant you, and so seemingly does our good sheriff here; for he has yielded to the inevitable, and is snoring like a trooper. Shake him up, colonel," he added to Walcot, who stood close by, leaning against the panes, and gazing thoughtfully out into the night. "If you're not asleep yourself, that is."

"Very far from it, my lord," answered Walcot, rousing up and approaching the table; "I was thinking that all being said and done, it is time to consider the measures for our safety. We don't want to be run down inside these four walls like a pack of weasels."

[Sidenote: The subterranean way.]

"By no means," said West; "we're going to burrow underground before we part to-night, for a good mile and a half through Master Hannibal's subterranean way. Aren't we captain? So as to make sure we don't blunder our heads into any wrong holes, when the time comes."

"An excellent notion," said Howard with animation. "And a better night than this abominable Noah's deluge of a one could not be. 'Twill spare us wading like a flock of geese to--. By the way, where did you say it brings us out, captain?"

"Into a large vault that lies under the right-hand tower of the ruined gatehouse of Nether Hall."

"And near the river?"

"Within a hundred yards of it."

"And then 'Sauve qui peut,' I suppose."

Rumbold inclined his head gravely.

"And Nether Hall," continued Howard, "belongs to our young friend Farmer Lee. I perceive now. You're a clever man, Captain Hannibal. You did well indeed to win the fellow to our cause, since his premises appear to be indispensable to our precious lives. But how is it we do not see him here to bid us welcome to his dungeons?"

"We may find him below. But if not, 'tis no matter; and if he should have stolen a leaf from Master Goodenough's book there, and gone to bed, I have the duplicate keys. He has made them over to me;" and the maltster, kindling his extinguished torch, signed to his companions to do the same. "'Tis pretty well pitch dark," he added warningly, "even in broad daylight, every step of the way. Ho there, Sheriff! Wake up! And a murrain on you for a sleepy-head. Give him a pinch, colonel," he added to Rumsey, who chanced to be seated nearest the sleeper.

[Sidenote: Two left behind.]

"I couldn't be so barbarous," replied Rumsey, with a peculiar sneering smile. "Hark!" he went on, as a thunderous snort was all the comment on Rumbold's adjuration. "Let him be."

"Oy, oy. Let 'm bide, cap'n," said the foreman. "They narrer cellars an't for the loikes of a hogshead like he. He'd be stickin' fast in the middle o' them like a dodnum in a duck's weasand. Let 'un sleep his sleep out."

"Nonsense, man!" said Walcot. "We can't leave him here all alone."

"He won't be alone if I'm with him, I suppose," said Rumsey with a snarl; "and I shall remain here. You won't catch me coming down to break my shins in your pitch-dark vaults at this time of night; as if I wasn't lamed enough already with that confounded stumble I made on Monday night. Time enough when I've got to run for it."

"Do as you please," said Rumbold; "I shall be back in a couple of hours or so."

"Ay, ay. Don't hurry. 'Twill be right enough if you leave us here."

"Like doves in a cage. Ha! ha! Or a couple of fighting cocks," said Howard, with a laugh that was echoed a little dubiously by all present, for it was no secret among them that Rumsey and Goodenough did not love each other. "Well, well; slumber, my darling! eh colonel? ha, ha, ha! and peace be with you."

[Sidenote: The conspirators' stair.]

And Howard, lighting his torch as he spoke, followed the rest, who, preceded by Rumbold, were beginning to file down the winding stair through the door by which they had entered.