Parson Kelly

  CHAPTER XX

  MR. SCROPE BATHES BY MOONLIGHT AND IN HIS PERUKE

  Wogan had heard two doors shut that evening, and with very differentfeelings. One had been latched gently, and the sound had filled himwith apprehensions; one had been flung to with an angry violence, andthe sound soothed him like the crooning of music. For Kelly, itseemed, after all held the trumps in his hand; he had but to play themaright and the game was his.

  'The longer he takes to play them the better,' murmured Wogan, as hestood on the steps of Lady Oxford's house and looked briskly abouthim. For to his left, standing openly in the moonlight, he saw a tallmartial figure wrapped in a cloak, and the end of a scabbard shiningbeneath the cloak, while across the road his eyes made out a hunchedform blotted against the wall. The figure in the cloak was ColonelMontague; the skulker would no less certainly be Mr. Scrope. If theParson would only take time enough to deploy his arguments like acareful general! Mr. Wogan would have liked to have run back andassured Kelly that there was no need whatever for hurry, since hehimself had enough amusements on his hands to make the time passpleasantly.

  He advanced to the Colonel first.

  'Sir, it is now to-morrow, the date at which you kindly promised me afew moments of your leisure. You may hear the chimes of the Abbeystrike the half hour after one.'

  'Mr. Wogan,' replied the Colonel, 'I reckon this yesterday--till afterbreakfast. At present I have an engagement with another person.'

  'Colonel Montague, your reckoning of time is contrary to the almanac,and to a sound metaphysic, of which I am the ardent advocate. You willunderstand, sir, that such a difference of opinion between gentlemenadmits of only one conclusion.'

  Colonel Montague smiled, and to Wogan's chagrin and astonishmentreplied:

  'You have grown a foot, or thereby, Mr. Wogan, since last we met, onan occasion which you will permit me to say that I can never forget.All our differences are sunk for ever in that one consideration. Iimplore you to leave me to the settlement of my pressing business.'

  So the Colonel knew of that unfortunate rescue at Preston. Wogan,however, was not so easily put off.

  'Grown a foot, sir!' he cried. 'I am not the same man! You speak of aboy, who died long ago; if he made a mistake in saving your life,overlook a pure accident, and oblige me.'

  'The accident does not remove my obligation.'

  'If you knew the truth, you would be sensible that there was noobligation in the matter. Come, take a stroll in the Park, and I'lltell the truth of the whole matter to whichever of us is alive to hearit.'

  'I had the whole truth already, to-night, from the young lady.'

  'The young lady?' Wogan had told Rose Townley of how he saved the lifeof a Colonel Montague, and to-night he had informed her that thisColonel was the man. She had been standing by his elbow when he hadpicked his quarrel with Montague. Sure she had overheard and hadinterfered to prevent it. 'The young lady!' he cried. 'All women arespoil-sports. But, Colonel, you must not believe her. I made a greatdeal of that story when I told it to Miss Townley. But you would findit a very simple affair if you had it from an eye-witness.'

  The Colonel shook his head.

  'Yet the story was very circumstantial, how you leaped from thebarricades--'

  'That were but two feet high.'

  'And, through a cross fire of bullets, crossed the square to where Ilay--'

  'The fire was a half charge of duckshot that an old fellow let off bymismanagement from a rusty pistol. Both sides stopped firing themoment I jumped over--the politest thing. I might have been trippingdown the Mall with a lady on my arm, for all the danger I ran.'

  'But your wounds?'

  'I slipped and cut my shin on the sharp cobbles, that's true.'

  'Mr. Wogan, it will not do! Had I known your name this evening whenLady Mary made us acquainted, certain expressions properly distastefulto you would not have escaped my lips. But now I can make amends forthem to the gallant gentleman who brought a wounded enemy out of across-fire. I apologise to you, but I cannot oblige you to the extentyou wish, however you may attempt to make light of your courage, andof the obligation on my side.'

  'Sure, Colonel, to be done with adornment of the real truth, I onlysaved such a fine man to have the pleasure of killing him myself.'

  Here the Colonel broke into a laugh.

  'Mr. Wogan, if I drew my sword and stood up before you without makinga parry or a lunge, would you kill me?'

  'No, indeed, there would be little diversion in that game,' saidWogan, who was now grown quite melancholic.

  'Well, that is the utmost you will get from me, I am much pressed fortime, and look to find another.'

  'Another!' Wogan's failing hopes revived. 'Praise be to the Saints! Isee your mistake, and you shall understand it in a twinkling. Theother and myself are just one man for these purposes. George is my_alter ego_. We are the greatest friends, and have been taken for eachother when we are talking. I'll talk all the time we fight, and youcan fancy it is George whose ribs you are trying to tickle.'

  The Colonel, however, was obdurate, and before Wogan could hit upon alikelier argument both gentlemen heard a cough.

  Someone was standing on Lady Oxford's doorstep looking towards them.

  The Colonel coughed in reply, and the figure--it was Mr.Kelly's--waved his hand, and marched, like the ghost of Hamlet'sfather, toward St. James's Park.

  The Colonel followed, like Hamlet, and Mr. Wogan followed the Colonel.Would there be a fourth to follow Wogan? The three men marched in themoonlight, their footsteps rang boldly on the road. Was there a fourthbehind them stealthily creeping in the shadow of the wall? As theyturned a corner out of the square Wogan fell a little further to therear. He kept his head screwed upon his shoulders, and he saw a shadowslink round the corner. He listened, and heard the stealthy steps. Hestopped; the steps ceased. Wogan went on again. He knew that Scropewas dogging them.

  The figure in front moved silently on till he reached a sweet spot foran occasion, a little _clairiere_ among the trees, the smoothestsward, moonlight on the grass, dark shadow all around. There hestopped, turned, and dropped his cloak. The moon shone silvery on thesilver shoulder-knots of Mr. Kelly. The other two gentlemen advanced.

  'Nick,' exclaimed Kelly, 'you should be on your road to the coast.'

  'At last!' cried Colonel Montague, dropping his cloak.

  'A moment, sir,' said Kelly; 'I must dismiss my friend.'

  'And would you be so mad? Are you to have nobody to see fair and runfor the surgeon while the other gentleman makes his escape? George, Inever knew you were so selfish.'

  Kelly drew his friend a little way aside.

  'Nick, I have that to do which cannot be done before a witness.'

  Mr. Wogan merely gaped at this extraordinary speech. He noticed thatKelly looked white and haggard even for a man in the full moonlight.

  'When I tell you that my honour hangs on it, that a witness is mereruin, when I pray you by our old friendship? Nick, you _must_ go outof eye-shot and ear-shot.'

  'I think you are crazed,' said Wogan.

  'I have obeyed you all night. Things have taken the turn that you mustobey me. There is no time for an explanation, the hour presses, and,Nick, my honour hangs on it. You must retire to where you can neithersee nor hear us, or I am shamed--lost with the Cause.'

  Mr. Kelly had been whispering, his voice trembled as the Cause wasnamed. Wogan had only once seen him thus moved. Had he played histrumps amiss after all? It seemed he had not won the game.

  'Very well,' said Wogan. 'Good-night. I will take care you are nottroubled with witnesses.'

  'No,' said Kelly suddenly, and then 'yes; goodnight.'

  He stood looking at Wogan a moment and then hurried off to theColonel, who seemed, to Wogan's judgment, a man apt to give the Parsonhis bellyful. Wogan twitched his cloak about him, and took his roaddown a path, bordered by bushes. It was the path by which they had
come into the Park. Wogan was determined that the Parson should not betroubled by witnesses.

  From his boyhood Mr. Wogan has had a singular passion forbird's-nesting. He idly scanned the bushes as he marched, for he hadheard a twig snap, and in a thick bush he saw what at a first glancecertainly resembled a very large brown bird's-nest. Looking morenarrowly at this curiosity there were shining eyes under the nest, acircumstance rarely found in animated nature.

  Mr. Wogan paused and contemplated this novelty. The bush was deep; thenovelty was of difficult access because of the tangled boughs. Woganreckoned it good to show a puzzled and bemused demeanour, as of onewho has moored himself by the punch-bowl.

  'It's a very fine bird,' he said aloud. 'I wonder what is the exactspecies this fine fowl may belong to?'

  Then he wagged his head in a tipsy manner, and so lurched down thepath singing:

  'I heard a bird Sing in a bush, And on his head Was a bowl of punch, _La-la-loodie!_'

  But Wogan's eye was cocked back over his shoulder, for he hoped thatthe fowl, thinking the hunter gone, would save him trouble by breakingcover. The bush did not stir, however; all was deadly still.

  Wogan lurched back to the bush, still singing, parted the branches,and peered in. His mind, in fact, was quite fixed as to the nature andname of this nocturnal fowl.

  He spied into the bush. 'I have heard, in France, of a bird called"the cuckoo Kelly,"' he said, 'I wonder if this can be _le cocu_Scrope?'

  Something glittered in the heart of the bush. Mr. Wogan leaped aside,his hat spun round on his head, he was near blinded by the flame andsmoke of a pistol discharged almost _a bout portant_. A figure hadscrambled out of the bush on the further side, and was running at agreat pace towards St. James's.

  Mr. Wogan gave a view halloo, and set off at the top of his own pacein pursuit. He was swift of foot when young, sound of wind, and longof stride.

  At every step he gained on the flying figure, which, he happilyremembered, might be armed with another pistol. These commoditiesusually go in pairs. Reflecting on this, and reckoning his distance toa mathematical nicety, Mr. Wogan applied his toe to that part of theflying gentleman's figure which he judged most accessible and mostappropriate to his purpose. The flying gentleman soared softly into aparabola, coming down with a crash, while a pistol fell from his hand.As the priming was spilled, Mr. Wogan let the weapon lie, andcourteously assisted the prostrate person to rise.

  'I fear I stumbled over you, sir,' he said. 'I hope I was not sounfortunate as to hurt you. Why, 'tis Mr. Scrope, the celebratedcritic and amateur of Virgil. Mr. Scrope, the writer of ballads.'

  'You are a brutal Irish bully,' said Scrope, whose hands and face werebleeding, for he had the mischance to slip on a gravel path coveredwith sharp little flints at the top of the Canal.

  'Nay, when last we met it was my poetry that you criticised, and now'tis my manners that do not please you! How could I guess that it wasMr. Scrope who lay in a bush to watch an explanation betweengentlemen? This time, sir, of your flight, you have not two horses tocarry you off, and I am not barefoot. Suppose we take up ourconversation where we left it when last you ran away? You have a swordI see.'

  Scrope's sword was already out, and he made a desperate pass at Wogan,who broke ground and drew his own weapon. Scrope was no match for hisreach and skill in fence.

  'Why, sir, our positions are altered,' said Wogan. 'Now it is you whomake errors, and I who play critic and instructor.'

  Wogan made a parade in _contre de carte_.

  'Look, sir, your blade was beaten a good half foot out of line. Had Ichosen to riposte, my sword-hilt would have rung on your breast-bone.Ah, that was rather better,' he said, stepping a pace back, andoffering his breast full like a fencing master with his pupil. 'Butyou did not really extend yourself. Now, sir, _un_, _deux_, _doublez_,_degagez_, _vite!_' and Mr. Wogan passed his sword through the lappetof Scrope's coat, coming back on guard. 'That is how you ought tolunge. There is another thing that I would have you notice. Coming onrashly as you do, I could stop you at any moment with a time thrust. Ihave only to extend my long arm, and where are you?'

  Scrope broke ground, sweating, and drew breath:

  'You cowardly _maitre d'armes!_' he exclaimed between two pants.

  'Cowardly, sir? Am I a spy? Or a nameless, obscene rhymer? Do I carrypistols and try to use them? Fie, Mr. Scrope, you must see that acoward who meant to kill you would have done so long ago, and left youhere--with an insult, and without a surgeon. You remember the littlesquare at Avignon. You want another lesson.'

  Wogan parried, riposted, and just grazed his opponent on the fore-arm.

  '_Touche!_' he said. 'Now you see I do not mean to kill you: at least,not with the sword. To do so would be to oblige a lady whom I have nodesire to please. Would you prefer to lay down your weapon and comefrankly to my embrace? You remember our fond hugs at Brampton Bryan?By the way, Mr. Scrope,' asked Wogan, as an idea occurred to him, 'thenight is warm and you seem heated, do you swim? The place isconvenient for a bathe, and sheltered from coarse observation.'

  With this remark Wogan switched Scrope's sword out of his hand by aturn of the wrist in _flanconade_. The blade flew up and fell flashingin the water of the Canal.

  'Now, sir, your life is at my mercy. You have betrayed my Cause; youhave nearly murdered my friend; you have insulted two ladies of myacquaintance; you have censured my poetry; and you have spoiled my hatwith your pistol bullet. I repeat, do you swim? There are two placeshere mighty convenient for a ducking.'

  Here Mr. Wogan caught his enemy by the collar.

  'The Canal is shallow; Rosamond's Pool is deep. You have your choice;safety and prose, or poetry and peril?'

  Scrope was squirming in Wogan's grip like a serpent. When Mr. Woganhad calmed him he carried Mr. Scrope like a babe to the edge of theCanal.

  'One, two, three!' he said, heaving Mr. Scrope backward and forward,like children setting a swing in motion. 'And away!'

  A heavy body flew through the air, flashed into the Canal, and did notat first arise to the surface.

  'I hope he has not hit his head or broken his neck,' said Wogan withanxiety. 'It would be very disagreeable to have to wade for him.'

  His fears were soon set at rest. Scrope scrambled to his feet, thewater reaching nearly to his middle. In his dripping perruque he cut afigure odd enough, and sufficiently pitiable.

  'A water god! A Triton!' cried Wogan. 'Have you a Virgil in yourpocket? You might study the marine deities whom you resemble. You aresure you have again forgotten to bring the Virgil you desired for Mr.Kelly's use at Avignon.'

  'D----n you, I shall see your bowels burned before your eyes for this,you Popish traitor,' cried Scrope, shaking his fist.

  'That is as may be. You have done what you can to that end already.You have told all you know; as regards myself it is not very much, andI am not in Newgate yet. Moreover, I know a way out. But stop, Icannot possibly permit you to land, for Scrope was wading to the bank.'Stay where you are and admire the moonshine! If you set foot on shoreI will merely throw you in again! You might be hurt.

  Scrope turned and was beginning to wade to the other side of theCanal.

  'It really is not safe in the middle if you do not swim,' cried Wogan.'Moreover, I can easily be at the further bank before you.' Mr. Wogansuited the action to the word. He ran round the bank as Scrope wadedacross. He met his bedraggled victim at the water's edge. Mr. Woganuttered a joyful whoop; there was a great splash and again Scrope sankbeneath the surface. He regained his feet and rose spluttering. 'I dotrust, Mr. Scrope, that you are not hectic, or subject to rheumatism,'said Wogan with sympathy.

  Wogan walked to the centre of the path across the top of the Canal. Hespread his cloak upon the grass and sat down, contemplating themoonlight on Buckingham House. There was a sweet odour of the buddingmay in the air.

  'A more peaceful scene, Mr. Sc
rope,' he cried, 'I have rarelywitnessed. All the poet whom you tried to crush wakes in my bosom. Ishall recite Mr. Pope's celebrated Night piece for your benefit.'

  Mr. Wogan then arose from his seat on the grass, and, raising his handtowards the Moon, delivered Mr. Pope's lines in his best manner.

  'As when the Moon, refulgent lamp of Night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light. When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'erspreads the solemn scene.'

  'You are not listening, Mr. Scrope!'

  Scrope was listening, but not to Wogan. Wogan ceased from reciting andlistened also. He heard steps and voices of men approaching.Presently, to his great amazement, he recognised the tones of Kellyand Montague, whose mere existence had been banished from his mind. Hewas yet more surprised when they both came in view, walking veryfriendly together.

  Wogan rose as they drew near him.

  'What, both of you?' he exclaimed.

  'You do not seem to be glad to see us again, sir?' said ColonelMontague.

  'And devil a scratch between the pair of you!' cried Mr. Wogan.'George, what does this mean? Am I to hear,' he asked with honestindignation, 'that one of you has debased himself to an apology?'

  He looked from one to the other much perplexed in mind.

  'It is too long a tale for the opportunity, Mr. Wogan,' said theColonel laughing. 'But _what_ does that mean?'

  He pointed to the Water God in the perruque, whose shadow wasreflected in the calm bosom of the lake.

  'Colonel Montague,' cried Scrope, 'I appeal to you as a Protestant andan officer of his Majesty's for your protection against an Irish,Popish, Jacobite conspirator.'

  'That gentleman,' said Wogan, 'whom I have been entertaining with Mr.Pope's poem, is an English Protestant, Whig, spy, and murderer, andeven, I suspect, a writer in the newspapers. He persists in stayingout in the water there, where I cannot get at him. He is one of theMaritime Powers. Egad! George, you know Mr. Scrope of Northumberlandand Grub Street?'

  George bowed to Mr. Scrope.

  'The fourth time you see, sir, has been lucky, contrary to theproverb,' he said politely.

  'The poor devil's teeth are chattering audibly,' said ColonelMontague. 'May I ask you to explain his situation, Mr. Wogan?'

  'Faith, sir, the story, as you say, is too long for the occasion. AndI want an explanation myself. After a gentleman has trod on anothergentleman's foot, here you both are, well and smiling. I am betrayed,'cried Mr. Wogan, 'in the character of a friend. I could not havethought it of George.'

  'What was the pistol shot we heard, Nick?' asked Mr. Kelly.

  'That was Mr. Scrope firing at me.'

  'And the view halloo that might have wakened the dead?'

  'That was me remonstrating with Mr. Scrope. But I crave your pardonfor my thoughtlessness. No doubt the noise brought up someungentlemanly person who interrupted you in your explanation. You willbegin it again? Mr. Scrope and I will be delighted to see fair play,but you will see it from the water, Mr. Scrope. You don't come outyet.'

  'Our honours, about which you are so kindly concerned, Mr. Wogan, areas intact as our persons,' said the Colonel.

  'Then you have been finding out that George saved your life, or yousaved George's, some time in the dark ages, all to prevent you killingeach other in a friendly way?'

  'You are in an ingenious error, Mr. Wogan; but Mr. Johnson and I haveimportant business together in the town, and we must bid you farewell.Pray allow that dripping gentleman to land and go to bed.'

  'But I cannot take him with me, and it is purely inconvenient to lethim follow me, for the precise reason that he would not follow me atall, but my friend Mr. Johnson. I am like my countryman who caught aTartar in the Muscovite wars. To be sure, I might tie him to a treewith his garters. Come out, Mr. Scrope, and be tied to a tree!'

  'No, no,' said the Colonel; 'your friend will die of a cold.'

  'Then what am I to be doing?' asked Wogan. 'He is a very curiousgentleman.'

  'I must leave that for you and your friend to determine,' said ColonelMontague. He turned to Kelly. 'In ten minutes,' said he, moving off.

  'In ten minutes, Corydon,' said Kelly, and Wogan thought he heard theColonel mutter, 'Oh, damnation!'

  It was all Greek to Wogan, and Kelly seemed in no mind to translatethe Greek for his baser comprehension.

  'Be off, Nick,' said he. 'I have ten minutes to wait here, and for tenminutes Mr. Scrope shall stand in the pond. You have that much law. Itis time enough for your long legs.'

  'And do you think I am leaving Mr. Scrope to follow you while I goquietly to bed?' asked Wogan, who was in truth hurt by the proposal.'No. I shall take him with me. It is the best plan after all.'

  'It will not matter, I think, whether he follows me or no; and, Nick,as to going to bed, I hope it will not be on this side of the Channel.Truth, I should be blaming you as it is for your delay, but I have noheart to it.' He had dropped into the Irish accent, a thing very rarewith him. 'For the world topples about me to-night, and the sight of afriend is very pleasant to me. There! It is all I had to say to you.Good-night. Good-bye.'

  He clapped his hand on Wogan's shoulder and then sat himself down onthe grass. If Mr. Scrope had had his wits about him, he might havechosen this occasion to creep out of the water, for Wogan was payinglittle heed to him.

  'George,' said he, 'it seems the game has gone against you. But I havethe simplest plan imaginable to put matters straight. What if you giveme the key to that pretty despatch-box? You see if I go to yourlodging and am taken--'

  'No!' cried Kelly.

  'But yes,' said Wogan, seating himself on the grass beside Kelly. 'IfI am taken, why, it's just Nick Wogan that's taken, and no one butNick Wogan is a penny the worse. But if you go and are taken--well,there's the Doctor's daughter.'

  Kelly would not listen to reason. It was not, he said, a mere matterof slipping into the house and burning the cyphers. But a man must payfor his own shortcomings, and the whole aspect of affairs had changed.And then he fell to thanking Wogan, which thanks Wogan cut short; andso they sat in the moonlight like a couple of owls, only they did nottalk.

  'You are very thoughtful,' said Kelly, with a tired sort of laugh,'and you have thought most of your ten minutes away.'

  'I was thinking,' said Wogan, 'of a word you used to say about alittle parsonage in Ireland and your Latin books, and an acre or twoof land, and how, like a fool, I laughed at you for speaking so.'

  Kelly rose very quickly to his feet.

  'Come, Nick,' said he almost sharply. 'My ten minutes are almost up. Icannot watch Scrope after that, and you may just as well save yourlife as lose it.'

  'I mean to take him with me,' said Wogan. 'Come out, my friend. I'llgive him the slip, never fear, when I want to.'

  'And then you will start for France?'

  Mr. Wogan did not mention a couple of obstacles which would at allevents delay his departure. In the first place he had a little matterof business with Lord Sidney Beauclerk, and in the second it would beno more than politeness to inquire after Kelly's health before he wentabroad. He kept silent upon this subject, and again summoned Scrope,who waded with his teeth chattering from the water. He drove Scropebefore him along a bypath, leaving the Parson standing alone in themoonlight. Mr. Wogan had no expectation that he would ever see hisfriend's face again, and therefore he swore most heartily at Scrope.

  'Come, my man,' said he, 'I am to see that you do not catch cold,' andhe marched Scrope at a round pace eastwards as far as Temple Bar, andthence northwards to Soho, and from Soho westwards.

  Scrope had been enjoined strictly not to open his lips; but, on theother hand, he heard a great deal about his own character, his meritsas a poet, and the morals of his family, which was no doubt new tohim. Some three hours later, when the moon had long since set, thepair came to the fields behind Holland House, and there Wogan took hisleave of Scrope. The man could do no more harm for that night, and hehad for the moment lost
his taste for spying.

  'You will stay here for five minutes,' said Wogan, who in five secondswas lost in the darkness. He knew a shy place in Westminster where hecould pass the night undisturbed. As he laid his head on the pillow itseemed to him to be a good year since he had driven off from Sir HarryGoring's house in the morning. And what of the Parson, whom he hadlast seen, a sombre figure in the moonlight by the water of St.James's Park? Well, the night had only then begun for Kelly, who, tobe sure, had lain abed all the day before.