CHAPTER XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT
So soon as Sir Crispin had taken his departure, and whilst yet the beatof his horse's hoofs was to be distinguished above the driving storm ofrain and wind without, Joseph hastened across the hall to the servants'quarters. There he found his four grooms slumbering deeply, their faceswhite and clammy, and their limbs twisted into odd, helpless attitudes.Vainly did he rain down upon them kicks and curses; arouse them he couldnot from the stupor in whose thrall they lay.
And so, seizing a lanthorn, he passed out to the stables, whence Crispinhad lately taken his best nag, and with his own hands he saddled ahorse. His lips were screwed into a curious smile--a smile that stilllingered upon them when presently he retraced his steps to the roomwhere his brother sat with Kenneth.
In his absence the lad had dressed Gregory's wound; he had induced himto take a little wine, and had set him upon a chair, in which he now layback, white and exhausted.
"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," said Joseph coldly, as heentered.
Kenneth made no sign that he heard. He sat on like a man in a dream. Hiseyes that saw nothing were bent upon Gregory's pale, flabby face.
"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," Joseph repeated in a loudervoice.
Kenneth looked up, then rose and sighed, passing his hand wearily acrosshis forehead.
"I understand, sir," he replied in a low voice. "You mean that I mustgo?"
Joseph waited a moment before replying. Then:
"It is past midnight," he said slowly, "and the weather is wild. You maylie here until morning, if you are so minded. But go you must then,"he added sternly. "I need scarce say, sir, that you must have no speechwith Mistress Cynthia, nor that never again must you set foot withinCastle Marleigh."
"I understand, sir; I understand. But you deal hardly with me."
Joseph raised his eyebrows in questioning surprise.
"I was the victim of my oath, given when I knew not against whom my handwas to be lifted. Oh, sir, am I to suffer all my life for a fault thatwas not my own? You, Master Gregory," he cried, turning passionately toCynthia's father, "you are perchance more merciful? You understand myposition--how I was forced into it."
Gregory opened his heavy eyes.
"A plague on you, Master Stewart," he groaned. "I understand that youhave given me a wound that will take a month to heal."
"It was an accident, sir. I swear it was an accident!"
"To swear this and that appears to be your chief diversion in life,"growled Gregory for answer. "You had best go; we are not likely tolisten to excuses."
"Did you rather suggest a remedy," Joseph put in quietly, "we might hearyou."
Kenneth swung round and faced him, hope brightening his eyes.
"What remedy is there? How can I undo what I have done? Show me but theway, and I'll follow it, no matter where it leads!"
Such protestations had Joseph looked to hear, and he was hard put toit to dissemble his satisfaction. For a while he was silent, makingpretence to ponder. At length:
"Kenneth," he said, "you may in some measure repair the evil you havedone, and if you are ready to undergo some slight discomfort, I shall bewilling on my side to forget this night."
"Tell me how, sir, and whatever the cost I will perform it!"
He gave no thought to the fact that Crispin's grievance against theAshburns was well-founded; that they had wrecked his life even as theyhad sought to destroy it; even as eighteen years ago they had destroyedhis wife's. His only thought was Cynthia; his only wish was to possessher. Besides that, justice and honour itself were of small account.
"It is but a slight matter," answered Joseph. "A matter that I mightentrust to one of my grooms."
That whilst his grooms lay drugged the matter was so pressing that hismessenger must set out that very night, Joseph did not think of adding.
"I would, sir," answered the boy, "that the task were great anddifficult."
"Yes, yes," answered Joseph with biting sarcasm, "we are acquainted withboth your courage and your resource." He sat silent and thoughtful forsome moments, then with a sudden sharp glance at the lad:
"You shall have this chance of setting yourself right with us," he said.Then abruptly he added.
"Go make ready for a journey. You must set out within the hour forLondon. Take what you may require and arm yourself; then return to mehere."
Gregory, who, despite his sluggish wits, divined--partly, at least--whatwas afoot, made shift to speak. But his brother silenced him with aglance.
"Go," Joseph said to the boy. And, without comment, Kenneth rose andleft them.
"What would you do?" asked Gregory when the door had closed.
"Make doubly sure of that ruffian," answered Joseph coldly. "ColonelPride might be absent when he arrives, and he might learn that noneof the name of Lane dwells at the Anchor in Thames Street. It would befatal to awaken his suspicions and bring him back to us."
"But surely Richard or Stephen might carry your errand?"
"They might were they not so drugged that they cannot be aroused. Imight even go myself, but it is better so." He laughed softly. "There iseven comedy in it. Kenneth shall outride our bloodthirsty knight to warnPride of his coming, and when he comes he will walk into the hands ofthe hangman. It will be a surprise for him. For the rest I shall keepmy promise concerning his son. He shall have news of him from Pride--butwhen too late to be of service."
Gregory shuddered.
"Fore God, Joseph, 'tis a foul thing you do," he cried. "Sooner would Inever set eyes on the lad again. Let him go his ways as you intended."
"I never did intend it. What trustier messenger could I find now thatI have lent him zest by fright? To win Cynthia, we may rely upon himsafely to do that in which another might fail."
"Joseph, you will roast in hell for it."
Joseph laughed him to scorn.
"To bed with you, you canting hypocrite; your wound makes youlight-headed."
It was a half-hour ere Kenneth returned, booted, cloaked, and ready forhis journey. He found Joseph alone, busily writing, and in obedience toa sign he sat him down to wait.
A few minutes passed, then, with a final scratch and splutter Josephflung down his pen. With the sandbox tilted in the air, like a dicerabout to make his throw, he looked at the lad.
"You will spare neither whip nor spur until you arrive in London, MasterKenneth. You must ride night and day; the matter is of the greatesturgency."
Kenneth nodded that he understood, and Joseph sprinkled the sand overthe written page.
"I know not when you should reach London so that you may be in time,but," he continued, and as he spoke he creased the paper and pouredthe superfluous sand back into the box, "I should say that by midnightto-morrow your message should be delivered. Aye," he continued, inanswer to the lad's gasp of surprise, "it is hard riding, I know, butif you would win Cynthia you must do it. Spare neither money norhorseflesh, and keep to the saddle until you are in Thames Street."
He folded the letter, sealed it, and wrote the superscription: "This toColonel Pride, at the sign of the Anchor in Thames Street."
He rose and handed the package to Kenneth, to whom the superscriptionmeant nothing, since he had not seen that borne by the letter whichCrispin had received.
"You will deliver this intact, and with your own hands, to Colonel Pridein person--none other. Should he be absent from Thames Street upon yourarrival, seek him out instantly, wherever he may be, and give him this.Upon your faithful observance of these conditions remember that yourfuture depends. If you are in time, as indeed I trust and think you willbe, you may account yourself Cynthia's husband. Fail and--well, you neednot return here."
"I shall not fail, sir," cried Kenneth. "What man can do to accomplishthe journey within twenty-four hours, I will do."
He would have stopped to thank Joseph for the signal favour of thischance of rehabilitation, but Joseph cut him short.
"Take this purse," he cried impatiently.
"You will find a horse readysaddled in the stables. Ride it hard. It will bear you to Norton atleast. There get you a fresh one, and when that is done, another. Now beoff."