The Black Box 28

The Black Box 28

"Why, in this fashion," answered Coram. "As I stood on guard last night

a mile or so from here, I heard sly, slinking footsteps coming from the

shadow of a wood. ’Who goes there?’ I cried, and someone gave the

password of the night."

 

"Zion!" I put in with a smile, remembering how well the word had served

me also. John Coram started.

 

"Yea, verily," said he; "but--but how came you by it?"

 

"Why, man," I laughed, "you gave it me last evening at the ’George’!"

 

"Now, by my life," he muttered, "I have a dim remembrance that ’twas so,

though verily my pate was somewhat addled with--Hum! where was I? Ah! as

I was saying, that fellow gave the word and so I let him pass. Off he

went, a long-cloaked thing of black, into the darkness. But when he was

some half-score yards beyond me he turned his face, the moonlight caught

it, and I knew it instantly for Israel Stark’s."

 

"Ah! and what did you then?" I put in eagerly.

 

"Did!" echoed Coram, spreading out his hands. "Friend, I did naught, and

shame on me for it. So struck was I that I could neither draw a pistol

nor pursue. I stood as stiff as any post, and watched the varlet fly.

And fly he did; for, look you, he had known me also by that glance, and

so sped off into the darkness like some spirit. The Evil One himself

could not have vanished swifter. Heavens, friend! it makes me go quite

chilly just to think on’t!"

 

"’Twas a fine chance lost," I murmured ruefully; then, as another view

of it came into mind, I added: "and yet it gives me cause for gratitude,

for had you killed him you had robbed me of a pleasure."

 

But Coram shook his head.

 

"Ah, but all danger had been ended then," said he.

 

"How long was this ago?" I asked.

 

"About two hours; ’twas just before the dawn."

 

I paused a moment. Had Ammon once again been spying on me, and thus got

wind of my intentions?

 

"Art certain that he came this way?" I asked.

 

"Aye, verily, I am. Would that I were not, for who knows where so sly a

villain may be hiding, ready to work mischief on thee?"

 

Here we both glanced uneasily around. Truly this had a far from

pleasing look. The lane was narrow, and bordered thick with trees and

bushes--Thrusting such ugly thoughts aside, I asked another question:

 

"But how came you to know my whereabouts?"

 

"Why, in this wise: no sooner was I free than I went unto your house,

The Havering, in order to report this matter. There I found that you

had ridden forth for Exeter. So borrowed I a horse and rode amain."

 

"Thou art a right good friend, John Coram, and have well earned what I

promised thee."

 

Bringing forth my pouch, I would have given him the money, but----

 

"No," said he, "I came not out to seek reward," and verily his honest

face upheld the statement. "I came to warn thee, save thee from a

peril, and having done so I am mightily content; while if you slay this

fellow my reward is great indeed."

 

"Be sure my best endeavour shall go to that end," said I: "but still, a

bargain is a bargain. Therefore, I pray you, take this money."

 

At first he would not; but after much pressing I contrived to give him

two gold pieces, for the which his thanks were fervid.

 

"And now I must be riding back again ere I be missed," said he.

"Besides, there is this horse which I have borrowed----"

 

"Or stolen, which?" I asked maliciously.

 

"Nay, friend, you said that sorry business was now clean forgiven and

forgotten."

 

"And so it is," I answered laughing. "But, say, before you go, hast any

news for me from Lyme?"

 

"Aye, plenty. Old Dare was slain last night by Fletcher of Saltoun. A

pretty brawl, ’tis said, about a horse. And Fletcher hath been sent a

prisoner to the ship. Thus lose we two good men at once. A grievous

loss, indeed."

 

"Yes, true. I heard of it," said I. "And hath aught else been

forward?"

 

"Yes. Three of our men have been slain on the shore nigh Charmouth."

 

Again this was no news to me; yet I contrived to say, surprisedly:

 

"Ah, so! By whom?"

 

"I know not," answered Coram; "there is some mystery about the matter,

but they were slain by sword, and that by one who knew his business

well, according to report."

 

"Well, well," I murmured, "such is war. But, say, how went it with the

fight at Bridport?"

 

"Ill enough for us. Our men were beaten back by the militia. They fled

like frightened sheep, and ’tis whispered that my Lord Grey was the

worst of all; ’tis said he ne’er drew rein till safe in Lyme again.

 

"Now, by my life, that was a bad beginning, sure enough!"

 

"Aye, verily, yet scarce a thing to marvel at, for, look you, how can

untrained ploughboys and the like expect to stand an onslaught e’en

though it be but that of rough militiamen?"

 

"Ah, how indeed?" I murmured. "And know you when the Duke rides forth

from Lyme?"

 

"Nay, that I don’t, nor, as it seems to me, doth anyone for certain.

Some say to-morrow, others Monday. Yet still they dally, signing on

fresh men."

 

"Ah, they still come in to join, then?"

 

"Aye, that they do--by hundreds; but, oh, such lumbering louts! Save

me, if we should not do as well with cows and sheep. And now, to make

it worse, we’ve lost Old Dare and Fletcher. Faith, but I like it less

each day, and were it not for Ferguson, Duke Monmouth’s cause might

whistle for John Coram."

 

"Ah, so Ferguson doth count for much," I murmured, stroking Kitty’s neck

to hide my face.

 

"Yea, much indeed," quoth Coram warmly. "He is a leader born--a man of

parts withal; but surely, friend, you know ’tis so as well as I," he

added with a searching look, "for have you not had pressing business

with our godly chaplain?"

 

"Yes, by my life I have, and have it still," I answered. "I ride upon

it now."

 

"Another reason why I should not tarry, then," said Coram. "And so

farewell, friend. Have a care of Stark, and make sure to kill him if

you get the chance."

 

"Be sure of that," said I.

 

"My blessing on it," answered Coram fervently, and with that cantered

off. At the bending of the lane he turned and waved a hand. I answered

with a will, then also sped upon my way, though with a watchful eye for

every tree and bush.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XIX*

 

*The Affair at the Barn*

 

 

As the day grew older and a blazing sun climbed up behind me the heat

upon my back became wellnigh unbearable, and a decorous walk was all

that Kitty made of it, nor did I wish for more. I was well ahead of

Monmouth--therefore of friend Ferguson--and could bide my time.

 

As I passed along the shady lanes thus leisurely, you may be sure I had

continual thought for Tubal Ammon, and when the sound of beast or bird

disturbed the leafy silence, my eyes and ears were swiftly turned in

that direction. But no harm came of it, and beyond some honest farm

hands, who, too wise to change scythe for sword, were laying low the

tall, rich grass with measured swing and swish, I chanced on no one.

Doubtless the chief reason of this was that, both for purposes of shade

and solitude, I kept to bypaths and eschewed the highway. Also, I

strove to keep as near the sea as possible, in order that what little

breeze there was therefrom might make things more endurable.

 

But such slow, winding methods take much time, and so, what with that

and many stoppages for Kitty’s sake, ’twas close on noon ere we had put,

maybe, twenty miles behind us, which, reckoning for byways, was little

more than half the distance to be covered.

 

The sun was now at its meridian, and beating down upon us with a fiery

heat which threatened danger to my mare, if not to me, for we had now

drawn clear of sheltering lanes and come out on a stretch of treeless

moorland which ran for miles along the coast. Here the hot air fairly

danced above the scorched-up grass and bushes, and naught was to be

heard except the languid hum of bees among the gorse. The very sea

seemed hushed to languorous silence.

 

To press on in such a state were cruelty to man and beast, therefore I

called a halt and looked about me for some shady place in which to rest.

But this was easier sought than found. As far as eye could reach, the

barren moor rolled on beneath the shimmering heat, with nothing taller

than a stunted thorn bush visible.

 

As I sat gazing wearily upon this arid sight, while Kitty pawed the turf

impatiently and cursed distracting flies (so far as horse was able) with

her ears and tail, I saw, far off, a man dart straight across the track

and disappear as though the earth had swallowed him, upon the other

side.

 

So quickly had he vanished in a place thus bare of cover that I watched