A Jacobite Exile

  Chapter 16: In England Again.

  Charlie was received with delight by his father, whom he had notseen since the spring of the previous year.

  "Then you got my letter, Charlie?" Sir Marmaduke asked, when thefirst greetings were over. "And yet, I do not see how you couldhave done so. It is little over a fortnight since I wrote, and Ihad not looked for you for another month yet."

  "I have certainly received no letter, father. A fortnight ago I wasin a Russian prison, and my arrival here, in so short a time, seemsto me almost miraculous;" and he then briefly related his singularexperiences.

  "Now about the letter, father," he said, as he concluded. "Isuppose you must have written to ask me to get leave for a time, asit seems that you were expecting me shortly. I suppose you feltthat you would like me with you, for a time."

  "So I should, lad, of that you may be sure, but I should not havecalled you away for that. No, I had this letter the other day fromold Banks. You know he writes to me once a year. His letters havebeen only gossip so far, for you know my precious cousin kicked himout of the house, as soon as he took possession; but this is adifferent matter. Read it for yourself."

  Charlie took the letter, and with some trouble spelt through thecrabbed handwriting.

  It began:

  "Honoured sir and master, I hope that this finds you and CaptainCharles both well in health. I have been laid up with rhematis inthe bones, having less comfort in my lodgings than I used to haveat Lynnwood. Your honour will have heard that King William hasfallen from his horse, and broken his collarbone, and died. May theLord forgive him for taking the place of better men. Anne has cometo the throne, and there were some hopes that she would, ofherself, step aside and let him to whom the throne rightly belongscome to it. Such, however, has not been the case, and those whoknow best think that things are no forwarder for William's death,rather indeed the reverse, since the Princess Anne is better likedby the people than was her sister's husband.

  "There is no sure news from Lynnwood. None of the old servants arethere; and I have no one from whom I can learn anything forcertain. Things however are, I hear, much worse since young Mr.Dormay was killed in the duel in London, of which I told you in mylast letter.

  "Dame Celia and Mistress Ciceley go but seldom abroad, and whenseen they smile but little, but seem sad and downcast. The usurperhas but small dealing with any of the gentry. There are always menstaying there, fellows of a kind with whom no gentleman wouldconsort, and they say there is much drinking and wild going on. AsCaptain Charles specially bade me, I have done all that I could togather news of Nicholson. Till of late I have heard nothing of him.He disappeared altogether from these parts, just after your honourwent away. News once came here from one who knew him, and who hadgone up to London on a visit to a kinsman, that he had met himthere, dressed up in a garb in no way according with his formerposition, but ruffling it at a tavern frequented by loose blades,spending his money freely, and drinking and dicing with the best ofthem.

  "A week since he was seen down here, in a very sorry state, lookingas if luck had gone altogether against him. Benjamin Haddock, wholives, as you know, close to the gate of Lynnwood, told me that hesaw one pass along the road, just as it was dusk, whom he couldswear was that varlet Nicholson. He went to the door and lookedafter him to make sure, and saw him enter the gate. Next dayNicholson was in Lancaster. He was spending money freely there, androde off on a good horse, which looked ill assorted with hisgarments, though he purchased some of better fashion in the town.It seemed to me likely that he must have got money from theusurper. I do not know whether your honour will deem this news ofimportance, but I thought it well to write to you at once. Anyfurther news I may gather, I will send without fail.

  "Your humble servant,

  "John Banks."

  "There is no doubt that this is of importance," Charlie said, whenhe had read the letter through. "It is only by getting hold of thisvillain that there is any chance of our obtaining proof of the foultreachery of which you were the victim. Hitherto, we have had noclue whatever as to where he was to be looked for. Now, there canbe little doubt that he has returned to his haunts in London. Iunderstand now, father, why you wanted me to get leave. You meanthat I shall undertake this business."

  "That was my thought, Charlie. You are now well-nigh twenty, andwould scarce be recognized as the boy who left four years ago. Thefellow would know me at once, and I might be laid by the heelsagain under the old warrant; besides being charged with breakingaway from the custody of the soldiers. Besides, in this businessyouth and strength and vigour are requisite. I would gladly takethe matter in my own hands, but methinks you would have a betterchance of bringing it to a favourable issue. Now that Anne is onthe throne, she and her advisers will look leniently upon the menwhose only fault was devotion to her father; and if we can once getthis foul charge of assassination lifted from our shoulders, I andJervoise and the others who had to fly at the same time, may all bepermitted to return, and obtain a reversal of the decree of the Actof Confiscation of our estates.

  "I have no friends at court, but I know that Jervoise was a closeacquaintance, years ago, of John Churchill, who is now Duke ofMarlborough, and they say high in favour with Anne. I did not thinkof it when I wrote to you, but a week later it came to my mind thathis intervention might be very useful, and I took advantage of anofficer, leaving here for the army, to send by him a letter toJervoise, telling him that there was now some hope of getting atthe traitor who served as John Dormay's instrument in his plotagainst us. I said that I had sent for you, and thought it probableyou would take the matter in hand; and I prayed him to send me aletter of introduction for you to the duke, so that, if you couldby any means obtain the proof of our innocence of this pretendedplot, he might help you to obtain a reversal of the Act ofConfiscation against us all. I have asked him to write at once, andI will send the letter after you, as soon as I get it.

  "I know nothing of London, but I have heard of the Bull's Head, inFenchurch Street, as being one frequented by travellers from thecountry. You had best put up there, and thither I will forward thenote from Jervoise."

  "The letter will be a useful one, indeed, father, when I have oncewrung the truth from that villain Nicholson. It will be anexpedition after my own heart. There is first the chance ofpunishing the villain, and then the hope of restoring you to yourplace at dear old Lynnwood."

  "You must be careful, Charlie. Remember it would never do to killthe rascal. That would be the greatest of misfortunes; for, withhis death, any chance of unmasking the greater villain woulddisappear."

  "I will be careful, father. I cannot say how I shall set about thematter, yet. That must depend upon circumstances; but, as you say,above all things I must be careful of the fellow's life. When isthere a ship sailing, father?"

  "The day after tomorrow, Charlie. You will want that time forgetting clothes, suitable to a young gentleman of moderatecondition, up from the country on a visit to London. You must makeup your mind that it will be a long search before you light on thefellow, for we have no clue as to the tavern he frequents. As aroistering young squire, wanting to see London life, you could gointo taverns frequented by doubtful characters, for it is probablyin such a place that you will find him.

  "However, all this I must leave to you. You showed yourself, inthat Polish business, well able to help yourself out of a scrape,and if you could do that among people of whose tongues you wereignorant, you ought to be able to manage on English soil."

  "At any rate, I will do my best, father, of that you may be sure. Ihave the advantage of knowing the fellow, and am pretty certainthat he will not know me."

  "Not he, Charlie," his father said confidently. "Even in the lasttwo years, since you were here with Jervoise and the others, youhave changed so much that I, myself, might have passed you in thestreet without knowing you.

  "Now, you had better go off and see about your things. There is notime to be lost. I have drawn out a hundred guineas of my money,which wi
ll, I should say, serve you while you are away; but don'tstint it, lad. Let me know if it runs short, and I will send youmore."

  "I have money, too, father. I have four months' pay due, besidesmoney I have in hand, for there was but little need for us to putour hands in our pockets."

  Ten days later, Charlie arrived in the Port of London, and took uphis abode at the Bull's Head, where he found the quarterscomfortable, indeed, after the rough work of campaigning. The nextmorning he took a waiter into his confidence.

  "I have come to London to see a little life," he said, "and I wantto be put into the way of doing it. I don't want to go to placeswhere young gallants assemble. My purse is not deep enough to standsuch society. I should like to go to places where I shall meethearty young fellows, and could have a throw of the dice, or see amain fought by good cocks, or even sally out and have a little funwith the watch. My purse is fairly lined, and I want someamusement--something to look back upon when I go home again. Whatis the best way to set about it?"

  "Well, sir, if that is your humour, I have a brother who is one ofthe mayor's tipstaffs. He knows the city well, ay, and Westminster,too, and the purlieus of Saint James's, and whether you want tomeet young gallants or roistering blades, or to have a look in atplaces where you can hire a man to cut another's throat for a fewcrowns, he can show you them. He will be on duty now, but I willsend him a message to come round this evening, and I warrant me hewill be here. He has showed young squires from the country over thetown before this, and will guess what is on hand when he gets mymessage."

  Having nothing to do, Charlie sauntered about the town during theday, looking into the shops, and keeping a keen eye on passers by,with the vague hope that he might be lucky enough to come acrosshis man.

  After he had finished his supper, the waiter came up and told himthat his brother was outside.

  "I have spoken to him, sir, and he warrants that he can take youinto the sort of society you want to meet, whatever it may be."

  Charlie followed him out. A man was standing under the lamp thatswung before the door.

  "This is the gentleman I was speaking to you of, Tony."

  As the man took off his cap, Charlie had a good view of his face.It was shrewd and intelligent.

  "You understand what I want?" he asked, as the waiter ran into thehouse again, to attend to his duties.

  "Yes, sir. So far as I understood him, you wish to go to taverns ofsomewhat inferior reputations, and to see something of that side ofLondon life. If you will pardon my boldness, it is somewhat of adangerous venture. In such places brawls are frequent, and rapierssoon out.

  "You look to me like one who could hold his own in a fray," headded, as his eye ran over the athletic figure before him, "but itis not always fair fighting. These fellows hang together, and whileengaged with one, half a dozen might fall upon you. As to yourpurse, sir, it is your own affair. You will assuredly lose yourmoney, if you play or wager with them. But that is no concern ofmine. Neither, you may say, is your life; but it seems to me thatit is. One young gentleman from the country, who wanted, like you,to see life, was killed in a brawl, and I have never forgivenmyself for having taken him to the tavern where he lost his life.Thus, I say that, though willing enough to earn a crown or twooutside my own work, I must decline to take you to places where, asit seems to me, you are likely to get into trouble."

  "You are an honest fellow, and I like you all the more, forspeaking out frankly to me," Charlie said, "and were I, as I toldyour brother, thinking of going to such places solely foramusement, what you say would have weight with me. But, as I seethat you are to be trusted, I will tell you more. I want to find aman who did me and mine a grievous ill turn. I have no intention ofkilling him, or anything of that sort, but it is a matter of greatimportance to lay hand on him. All I know of him is that he is afrequenter of taverns here, and those not of the first character.Just at present he is, I have reason to believe, provided withfunds, and may push himself into places where he would not showhimself when he is out of luck. Still, it is more likely he is tobe found in the lowest dens, among rascals of his own kidney. I maylose a little money, but I shall do so with my eyes open, andsolely to obtain a footing at the places where I am most likely tomeet him."

  "That alters the affair," the man said gravely. "It will add toyour danger; for as you know him, I suppose he knows you, also."

  "No. It is four years since we met, and I have so greatly changed,in that time, that I have no fear he would recognize me. At anyrate, not here in London, which is the last place he would suspectme of being in."

  "That is better. Well, sir, if that be your object, I will do mybest to help you. What is the fellow's name and description?"

  "He called himself Nicholson, when we last met; but like enoughthat is not his real name, and if it is, he may be known by anotherhere. He is a lanky knave, of middle height; but more than that,except that he has a shifty look about his eyes, I cannot tellyou."

  "And his condition, you say, is changeable?"

  "Very much so, I should say. I should fancy that, when in funds, hewould frequent places where he could prey on careless young fellowsfrom the country, like myself. When his pockets are empty, I shouldsay he would herd with the lowest rascals."

  "Well, sir, as you say he is in funds at present, we will thisevening visit a tavern or two, frequented by young blades, some ofwhom have more money than wit; and by men who live by their witsand nothing else. But you must not be disappointed, if the searchprove a long one before you run your hare down, for the indicationsyou have given me are very doubtful. He may be living in Alsatia,hard by the Temple, which, though not so bad as it used to be, isstill an abode of dangerous rogues. But more likely you may meethim at the taverns in Westminster, or near Whitehall; for, if hehas means to dress himself bravely, it is there he will mostreadily pick up gulls.

  "I will, with your permission, take you to the better sort to beginwith, and then, when you have got more accustomed to the ways ofthese places, you can go to those a step lower, where, I shouldthink, he is more likely to be found; for such fellows spend theirmoney freely, when they get it, and unless they manage to fleecesome young lamb from the country, they soon find themselves unableto keep pace with the society of places where play runs high, andmen call for their bottles freely. Besides, in such places, whenthey become unable to spend money freely, they soon get the coldshoulder from the host, who cares not to see the money that shouldbe spent on feasting and wine diverted into the pockets of others.

  "I shall leave you at the door of these places. I am too well knownto enter. I put my hand on the shoulder of too many men, during theyear, for me to go into any society without the risk of someoneknowing me again."

  They accordingly made their way down to Westminster, and Charlievisited several taverns. At each he called for wine, and wasspeedily accosted by one or more men, who perceived that he was astranger, and scented booty. He stated freely that he had just comeup to town, and intended to stay some short time there. He allowedhimself to be persuaded to enter the room where play was going on,but declined to join, saying that, as yet, he was ignorant of theways of town, and must see a little more of them before he venturedhis money, but that, when he felt more at home, he should be readyenough to join in a game of dice or cards, being considered a goodhand at both.

  After staying at each place about half an hour, he made his wayout, getting rid of his would-be friends with some littledifficulty, and with a promise that he would come again, ere long.

  For six days he continued his inquiries, going out every eveningwith his guide, and taking his meals, for the most part, at one orother of the taverns, in hopes that he might happen upon the man ofwhom he was in search. At the end of that time, he had a greatsurprise. As he entered the hotel to take supper, the waiter saidto him:

  "There is a gentleman who has been asking for you, in the publicroom. He arrived an hour ago, and has hired a chamber."

  "Asking for me?" Charlie repeated in astonishment.
"You must bemistaken."

  "Not at all, sir. He asked for Mr. Charles Conway, and that is thename you wrote down in the hotel book, when you came."

  "That must be me, sure enough, but who can be asking for me Icannot imagine. However, I shall soon know."

  And, in a state of utter bewilderment as to who could have learnthis name and address, he went into the coffee room. There happened,at the moment, to be but one person there, and as he rose andturned towards him, Charlie exclaimed in astonishment and delight:

  "Why, Harry, what on earth brings you here? I am glad to see you,indeed, but you are the last person in the world I should havethought of meeting here in London."

  "You thought I was in a hut, made as wind tight as possible, beforethe cold set in, in earnest. So I should have been, with six monthsof a dull life before me, if it had not been for Sir Marmaduke'sletter. Directly my father read it through to me he said:

  "'Get your valises packed at once, Harry. I will go to the coloneland get your leave granted. Charlie may have to go into all sortsof dens, in search of this scoundrel, and it is better to have twoswords than one in such places. Besides, as you know the fellow'sface you can aid in the search, and are as likely to run againsthim as he is. His discovery is as important to us as it is to him,and it may be the duke will be more disposed to interest himself,when he sees the son of his old friend, than upon the strength of aletter only.'

  "You may imagine I did not lose much time. But I did not start,after all, until the next morning, for when the colonel talked itover with my father, he said:

  "'Let Harry wait till tomorrow. I shall be seeing the king thisevening. He is always interested in adventure, and I will tell himthe whole story, and ask him to write a few lines, saying thatHarry and Carstairs are young officers who have borne themselvesbravely, and to his satisfaction. It may help with the duke, andwill show, at any rate, that you have both been out here, and notintriguing at Saint Germains.'

  "The colonel came in, late in the evening, with a paper, which theking had told Count Piper to write and sign, and had himself puthis signature to it. I have got it sewn up in my doublet, with myfather's letter to Marlborough. They are too precious to lose, butI can tell you what it is, word for word:

  "'By order of King Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. This is totestify, to all whom it may concern, that Captain CharlesCarstairs, and Captain Harry Jervoise--'"

  "Oh, I am glad, Harry!" Charlie interrupted. "It was horrid that Ishould have been a captain, for the last year, and you alieutenant. I am glad, indeed."

  "Yes, it is grand, isn't it, and very good of the king to do itlike that. Now, I will go on--

  "'Have both served me well and faithfully during the war, showinggreat valour, and proving themselves to be brave and honourablegentlemen, as may be seen, indeed, from the rank that they, thoughyoung in years, have both attained, and which is due solely totheir deserts.'

  "What do you think of that?"

  "Nothing could be better, Harry. Did you see my father atGottenburg?"

  "Yes. The ship I sailed by went to Stockholm, and I was luckyenough to find there another, starting for England in a few hours.She touched at Gottenburg to take in some cargo, and I had time tosee Sir Marmaduke, who was good enough to express himself asgreatly pleased that I was coming over to join you."

  "Well, Harry, I am glad, indeed. Before we talk, let us go in andhave supper, that is, if you have not already had yours. If youhave, I can wait a bit."

  "No; they told me you had ordered your supper at six, so I toldthem I would take mine at the same time; and, indeed, I can tellyou that I am ready for it."

  After the meal, Charlie told his friend the steps he was taking todiscover Nicholson.

  "Do you feel sure that you would know him again, Harry?"

  "Quite sure. Why, I saw him dozens of times at Lynnwood."

  "Then we shall now be able to hunt for him separately, Harry. Goingto two or three places, of an evening, I always fear that he maycome in after I have gone away. Now one of us can wait till thehour for closing, while the other goes elsewhere."

  For another fortnight, they frequented all the places where theythought Nicholson would be most likely to show himself; then, aftera consultation with their guide, they agreed that they must lookfor him at lower places.

  "Like enough," the tipstaff said, "he may have run through hismoney the first night or two after coming up to town. That is theway with these fellows. As long as they have money they gamble.When they have none, they cheat or turn to other evil courses. Nowthat there are two of you together, there is less danger in goingto such places; for, though these rascals may be ready to pick aquarrel with a single man, they know that it is a dangerous game toplay with two, who look perfectly capable of defending themselves."

  For a month, they frequented low taverns. They dressed themselvesplainly now, and assumed the character of young fellows who hadcome up to town, and had fallen into bad company, and lost whatlittle money they had brought with them, and were now ready for anydesperate enterprise. Still, no success attended their search.

  "I can do no more for you," their guide said. "I have taken you toevery house that such a man would be likely to use. Of course,there are many houses near the river frequented by bad characters.But here you would chiefly meet men connected, in some way, withthe sea, and you would be hardly likely to find your man there."

  "We shall keep on searching," Charlie said. "He may have gone outof town for some reason, and may return any day. We shall not giveit up till spring."

  "Well, at any rate, sirs, I will take your money no longer. Youknow your way thoroughly about now, and, if at any time you shouldwant me, you know where to find me. It might be worth your while topay a visit to Islington, or even to go as far as Barnet. Thefellow may have done something, and may think it safer to keep inhiding, and in that case Islington and Barnet are as likely to suithim as anywhere."

  The young men had, some time before, left the inn and taken alodging. This they found much cheaper, and, as they were away frombreakfast until midnight, it mattered little where they slept. Theytook the advice of their guide, stayed a couple of nights atIslington, and then went to Barnet. In these places there was nooccasion to visit the taverns, as, being comparatively small, theywould, either in the daytime or after dark, have an opportunity ofmeeting most of those living there.

  Finding the search ineffectual, Charlie proposed that they shouldgo for a long walk along the north road.

  "I am tired of staring every man I meet in the face, Harry. And Ishould like, for once, to be able to throw it all off and take agood walk together, as we used to do in the old days. We will goeight or ten miles out, stop at some wayside inn for refreshments,and then come back here for the night, and start back again fortown tomorrow."

  Harry at once agreed, and, taking their hats, they started.

  They did not hurry themselves, and, carefully avoiding all mentionof the subject that had occupied their thoughts for weeks, theychatted over their last campaign, their friends in the Swedishcamp, and the course that affairs were likely to take. After fourhours' walking they came to a small wayside inn, standing backtwenty or thirty yards from the road.

  "It is a quiet-looking little place," Charlie said, "and does but asmall trade, I should say. However, no doubt they can give us somebread and cheese, and a mug of ale, which will last us well enoughtill we get back to Barnet."

  The landlord placed what they demanded before them, and then leftthe room again, replying by a short word or two to their remarks onthe weather.

  "A surly ill-conditioned sort of fellow," Harry said.

  "It may be, Harry, that badness of trade has spoiled his temper.However, so long as his beer is good, it matters little about hismood."

  They had finished their bread and cheese, and were sitting idly,being in no hurry to start on their way back, when a man onhorseback turned off from the road and came up the narrow lane inwhich the house stood. As Charlie, who was facing that w
ay, lookedat him he started, and grasped Harry's arm.

  "It is our man," he said. "It is Nicholson himself! To think of oursearching all London, these weeks past, and stumbling upon himhere."

  The man stopped at the door, which was at once opened by thelandlord.

  "All right, I suppose, landlord?" the man said, as he swung himselffrom his horse.

  "There is no one here except two young fellows, who look to me asif they had spent their last penny in London, and were travellingdown home again."

  He spoke in a lowered voice, but the words came plainly enough tothe ears of the listeners within. Another word or two was spoken,and then the landlord took the horse and led it round to a stablebehind, while its rider entered the room. He stopped for a momentat the open door of the taproom, and stared at the two young men,who had just put on their hats again. They looked up carelessly,and Harry said:

  "Fine weather for this time of year."

  The man replied by a grunt, and then passed on into the landlord'sprivate room.

  "That is the fellow, sure enough, Charlie," Harry said, in a lowtone. "I thought your eyes might have deceived you, but I rememberhis face well. Now what is to be done?"

  "We won't lose sight of him again," Charlie said. "Though, if wedo, we shall know where to pick up his traces, for he evidentlyfrequents this place. I should say he has taken to the road. Therewere a brace of pistols in the holsters. That is how it is that wehave not found him before. Well, at any rate, there is no usetrying to make his acquaintance here. The first question is, willhe stay here for the night or not--and if he does not, which waywill he go?"

  "He came from the north," Harry said. "So if he goes, it will betowards town."

  "That is so. Our best plan will be to pay our reckoning and start.We will go a hundred yards or so down the road, and then lie downbehind a hedge, so as to see if he passes. If he does not leavebefore nightfall, we will come up to the house and reconnoitre. Ifhe does not leave by ten, he is here for the night, and we mustmake ourselves as snug as we can under a stack. The nights aregetting cold, but we have slept out in a deal colder weather thanthis. However, I fancy he will go on. It is early for a man tofinish a journey. If he does, we must follow him, and keep him insight, if possible."

  Two hours later they saw, from their hiding place, Nicholson rideout from the lane. He turned his horse's head in their direction.

  "That is good," Charlie said. "If he is bound for London, we shallbe able to get into his company somehow; but if he had gone up tosome quiet place north, we might have had a lot of difficulty ingetting acquainted with him."

  As soon as the man had ridden past they leapt to their feet, and,at a run, kept along the hedge. He had started at a brisk trot, butwhen, a quarter of a mile on, they reached a gate, and looked upthe road after him, they saw to their satisfaction that the horsehad already fallen into a walk.

  "He does not mean to go far from Barnet," Charlie exclaimed. "If hehad been bound farther, he would have kept on at a trot. We willkeep on behind the hedges as long as we can. If he were to lookback and see us always behind him, he might become suspicious."

  They had no difficulty in keeping up with the horseman. Sometimes,when they looked out, he was a considerable distance ahead, havingquickened his pace; but he never kept that up long, and by briskrunning, and dashing recklessly through the hedges running at rightangles to that they were following, they soon came up to him again.

  Once, he had gone so far ahead that they took to the road, andfollowed it until he again slackened his speed. They thus kept himin sight till they neared Barnet.

  "We can take to the road now," Harry said. "Even if he should lookround, he will think nothing of seeing two men behind him. We mighthave turned into it from some by-lane. At any rate, we must chanceit. We must find where he puts up for the night."