CHAPTER IX

MASTER PURVIS TELLS A TALE

And what had become of little Dick Chester?

He was standing by the table, as I have said, when suddenly, without the sound of an opening door, or the fall of a footstep behind him, a great cloak was thrown over his head, and wound tightly round his body; he was lifted off his feet silently, and borne off, he knew not by whom or whither. It was useless to struggle or cry out, for he was almost smothered, and his captor's arms were as strong as his step was swift and silent. Yet Dick writhed and trembled in despair for he knew not how long, till he heard a horse stamping close by. Then he felt himself lifted up. Another pair of arms, steel-clad and unyielding, received him. He was on the back of a horse. Then there was the sound of a man dropping into the saddle close to him. Bridles jingled, saddles creaked, scabbards tapped spurred heels, but no one spoke. Then eight hoofs beat the earth together, and Dick found, by the sway of the man who now held him, that they were going at a hand-gallop, and by the thud, thud at their side that another rider accompanied them.

On and on they went in that appalling silence, never speaking or making any human sound. The horses snorted occasionally, but he that held Dick never seemed to breathe. Terror, and the heat of the thick cloak, and the wild pace together made Dick sick and giddy. He made one or two desperate efforts to get his hands free, but they were useless, and he lay still again, trembling and choking. Perhaps he fainted, or perhaps he slept, but anyhow, when the smothering cloak was at last removed, he found himself in a dismal little chamber, with a high grated slit in the wall far out of reach. A man was standing over him, holding a light.

"Eat your supper," he said sternly, pointing to a plate of bread and meat, "and then go to sleep."

Dick begged him to say where he was, who had brought him there, and what for. But the man relapsed into silence, and went out and locked the door after him. Dick rushed to it, and called, and entreated, and cried, but nobody came; and when he listened, the silence was unbroken and terrible.

But there were other people in the house--a lonely farmhouse, miles away from Lumley, in the midst of desolate moors.

At the end of a long passage was a room with fire and lights, and there John Dent, in armour, looking very hard and dangerous, was striding up and down restlessly, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He had been arrested, on Dick's information, as a traitor, and awaiting the arrival of Giles to bear testimony against him, had been confined to his quarters, from whence he had escaped. He had with him his servant, Newton, and he had met at this farm Master Purvis, who lodged there, and a renegade Cavalier--broken, that is, dismissed from his regiment, for neglecting his duty.

A few days ago John Dent had been perfectly satisfied with everything. His cousin had been drowned--so he supposed--and he had succeeded to his title and possessions. These were assured to him if the King proved successful in his struggle with the Parliament, for he had curried favour by offering to raise and arm a troop. If the king failed, he was ready to go over to the victors, for whom he had done several services already--such as agreeing to vacate Dent for them to go into.

And now, to-day, not only had he been charged with his treason, not only had Dick inconsiderately come to life again, but he had heard that his title and estates were gone. No wonder he felt bitter hatred against Dick, and a wild anger against the stableman whom he had helped on the highroad, and who had turned all his plans upside down. He could not endure to leave Dick unpunished and to escape himself without some, however slight, revenge; and Newton, his servant, found out, through a man who had worked at the manor, the entrance, by the yew-hedge, and the secret door to the parlour. Knowing Giles's master was at a council, the servant had entered softly and succeeded in capturing Dick, John Dent having promised a high reward if he did it unseen.

Having got him, the question was: What should be done with the boy? Master Purvis could only puff out his fat cheeks and say: "No, no," as though someone had already suggested a deed he dared not contemplate. Perhaps he saw the suggestion in John Dent's hard face as he paced up and down uneasily. But Newton, who was full of resource, knew of the very thing, he assured his good master, which could be worked easily for a trifling sum.

"Go on, sirrah," said Captain Dent shortly.

It appeared that Newton had a half-sister in the south somewhere, whose husband kept an inn. They had just lost their only son, and were anxious to adopt a strong lad who would make himself a bit useful about the place. Adopting, as Newton said, grinning, was so much less expensive than hiring a boy. Now, couldn't the young gentleman be taken there immediately, to lie snug until his honour wanted him, or until he had other plans for him? His half-sister's husband was a thrifty man and hard-working, and his sister a sharp woman. They'd keep the boy out of mischief, and active employment, as his honour knew, was healthy. To be sure, he would have to work; but then none would take him for nothing. And if his honour wanted to be sure of his staying where he was put--Newton paused,--why, he couldn't expect to pick him a home anywhere, with anyone, as his honour would quite understand.

Captain Dent paced the room more slowly. "An inn?" he said at last. "Every kind of traveller stays at an inn. Dick will get hold of some Royalist or other, and tell his tale while he waters his horse for him."

Newton had nothing to say to this. But the dismissed Cavalier officer cut in. "Would he be believed, think you? I heard from Newton that it went hard with him amongst the officers at first."

"Ay," said Newton. "I heard the earl's groom say that he was almost whipped away for a liar. Anyhow, he refused to stay with them, for, they say, someone frightened him by saying he must stay till his story was proven, as the Provost-Marshal would need him for a thrashing."

John Dent stopped by Master Purvis. "Go you," he said sternly, "and tell the boy his tale was not proven; that there was no Giles at Dent Castle; that all the King's host know, or will know, that he is a liar; that he is under the King's severest displeasure. He will believe you. Don't mention my name, on your peril. Teach him to fear the very air round a Cavalier of any rank. Say, if he breathes the name of Chester anywhere in England, every King's man has orders to hale him to the whipping-post and the stocks. Say you've saved him at the risk of your life; you were fond of him. Say what you like; but make haste, and let it be well done, or--"

"I go, I go!" said Master Purvis hurriedly, and he went out of the room. "They'll kill him, if he gives any trouble," he thought; "and Captain Dent will kill me if I fail him. For all sakes he must be made to believe as they tell him."

He found Dick crouched on the floor in one corner, but as the moon fell through the grating on Master Purvis's round figure, Dick recognized him, and sprang to his feet with a cry of joy. Master Purvis had been kind to him at Dent. It was he who had given him the dagger with the red-leather sheath on his birthday. Master Purvis had come to save him, for he was his friend.

But Master Purvis sat down on the floor and told him such a tale as went near breaking Dick's heart. There was no Giles at Dent; no sign of an enemy there either. It was all as Master Purvis had left it a week since. Everybody believed Dick a liar and no more Sir Richard Chester than he, Master Purvis, was. Through all the army, and to all loyal persons, a proclamation had been sent denouncing Dick as a traitor, who had tried, and almost succeeded, in luring the King's forces into a trap. The King himself had expressed his endless displeasure, without hope of a pardon, and the Earl of Newcastle had issued an order to every man, of what rank in the King's forces soever, to take, whip, and brand any boy giving the name of Dick Chester. And the Provost-Marshal was waiting, prepared to deal him justice, when he, Master Purvis, had engaged a friend to rush in softly and kidnap poor Dick.

To a broken question about the gentleman who had been so good to him, Master Purvis made up a swift reply that the gentleman had not believed anything against him at first, but did now, and would never forgive him. The tale came on so swiftly, almost without a pause, the facts followed each other so glibly, that Master Purvis was almost proud of his achievement, and more than convinced of the effect it had upon Dick.

"And so," ended Master Purvis, "you must go quietly away to some friends of mine till I can come for you. Newton will take you--a good faithful servant; and you must be obedient and silent, and he will take all care of you."

Master Purvis got up here nervously, for the misery on Dick's white face spoilt the flow of his sentences. He felt he was doing the best for the boy, and had made himself think that Dick ought to be grateful.

"Be sure you never say your name," he said hastily, "nor breathe a word of your story." He opened the door. Dick sprang after him.

"Giles!" he cried. "Giles! Where is Giles?"

"I don't know," said Master Purvis, shaking him off. "Perhaps dead. Most likely dead," he added, desiring, of all things, to get away from Dick's agonized eyes, and the tones of his voice, and the touch of his hands.

Master Purvis came back to his master quite out of breath. Captain Dent was still pacing the floor.

"Have you done the business?" he questioned sharply.

"Yes," panted Master Purvis.

"Have you frightened him thoroughly from confiding in Royalists of any sort?"

"Yes; I think--Nay, I'm sure," Master Purvis answered.

The ex-Cavalier laughed. "You ought to make quite sure," he said.

Captain Dent, suddenly halting by the officer, said: "You might meet him and Newton on the way, and carry out some of His Majesty's orders. But you may go short of dragging him back to the Provost."

"Ay, I might, if you make it worth while," said the other coolly.

"He won't know you're broken," said Dent. "And there's nothing like feeling for believing."

"True," rejoined the other. "And we'll see which feels more broken. Terms?" he added, and they discussed them.

Then Dent left the farm, and the ex-Cavalier shortly followed him.

In the early morning, Master Purvis took Dick some breakfast, which he did not eat; afterwards set him before Newton on horseback, and watched them gallop off with a sigh of relief. Master Purvis was selfish, so selfish that he did not care even to see anything painful, and there was something very painful in the silence of Dick.

All the day he was silent, did not even cry, did not eat or drink, scarcely moved. They slept at an inn, and started again in the early morning. Dick put one or two questions, but in a dull way, merely about the length of their journey, for bodily weariness was now his most conscious feeling. He had no chance of escaping had he dreamt of anything of the sort, which he did not. He only wanted to stop riding, to rest, and he had a queer feeling that, if they were to stop for a whole day, he would fall asleep, and wake up to find it was all a bad dream. But they never stopped, except for an hour or two.

Newton changed his horse on the second day and on the fourth. On that day Dick asked more questions. "When did Newton think Master Purvis would come to his friends in the south?" Newton couldn't say. Dick did not like Newton, and towards the evening of the fourth day he began to be troublesome. He had been sick in the morning, and was inclined to a sullen resistance simply for the relief of resisting. And now he cried and was peevish, would rather stay and starve where they were than go farther.

"The first Royalist we meet will save you from starving," Newton said meaningly.

And just then there came into sight round a bend of the road a Cavalier, gaily dressed, well mounted, with a servant behind him. This was the ex-officer, and he felt a certain amusement in the part he was now playing. He seemed to be riding by, but suddenly reined up, and looked sharply at Dick.

"Hold!" he shouted. "That boy is wanted by the King's Provost-Marshal."

Dick's heart was in his mouth. Newton drew up, and stammered out something with well-feigned confusion.

"Hand him over, sirrah, and don't gibber," snapped the officer. "The earl has given his orders about this matter. All the officers intend to be present, let me tell you!"

Dick shivered. He thought of all those gay gentlemen looking on at his shame. He knew how indifferent and good-humoured their faces would be, how they would jest courteously with each other, and care not a jot for the boy who, they said, had lied to them brazenly. And Giles's master would be there! He had been so kind, and had trusted him so thoroughly.

Newton set him down on the ground. The officer had dismounted too. Dick, utterly misled by the tale he had been told, and quite in despair, flung himself at the officer's feet, and begged him to kill him there, not to take him back--to have mercy and kill him there.

"Not that!" Dick cried. "I can die here, but not before them! For pity's sake, spare me!"

The man's hard face flushed a little. He remembered his own shame when, before the troops, he was degraded and sent from the army.

Newton muttered impatiently: "Thrash him, Major, and let us be gone."

But Dick, seeing some signs of relenting, sprang to his feet, and pointed to the pistols in the nearest holster. "Shoot me!" he said steadily, ceasing to cry and to tremble. "I did not lie to them! Shoot me here! Don't take me back! I'll stand still!"

Dick heard the chink of gold coins as the major stood with his hands in his pockets.

The major's face twitched. Somehow the game had lost its amusement. He took hold of Dick and swung him up before Newton. Then he mounted his own horse.

"The money in your pocket?" said Newton insolently.

The officer reined in so suddenly that his charger reared in the air. He plunged his hand in his pocket and dashed the gold pieces on the ground. Then he struck in the spurs and galloped off, followed by his man.

Newton dismounted, gathered up the pieces, and rode off with Dick, laughing. "That's the fault of being a gentleman, my chuck," he said roughly. "However degraded you are you can never rely on yourself. A pinch too much dirt and--fah!--your gentleman's nose tilts. A bit of a whine from a weakling, like you, and--eh, dear me!--my gentleman's blood boils, and turns him soft again!"