The Midnight Queen

  CHAPTER XIX. HUBERT'S WHISPER.

  Sir Norman Kingsley's consternation and horror on discovering the deadbody of his friend, was only equalled by his amazement as to how he gotthere, or how he came to be dead at all. The livid face, up turned tothe moonlight, was unmistakably the face of a dead man--it was no swoon,no deception, like Leoline's; for the blue, ghastly paleness that marksthe flight of the soul from the body was stamped on every rigid feature.Yet, Sir Norman could not realize it. We all know how hard it is torealize the death of a friend from whom we have but lately parted infull health and life, and Ormiston's death was so sudden. Why, it wasnot quite two hours since they had parted in Leoline's house, and eventhe plague could not carry off a victim as quickly as this.

  "Ormiston! Ormiston!" he called, between grief and dismay, as he raisedhim in his arms, with his hand over the stilled heart; but Ormistonanswered not, and the heart gave no pulsation beneath his fingers. Hetore open his doublet, as the thought of the plague flashed through hismind, but no plague-spot was to be seen, and it was quite evident,from the appearance of the face, that he had not died of the distemper,neither was there any wound or mark to show that he had met his endviolently. Yet the cold, white face was convulsed, as if he had died inthroes of agony, the hands were clenched, till the nails sank into theflesh; and that was the only outward sign or token that he had sufferedin expiring.

  Sir Norman was completely at a loss, and half beside himself, witha thousand conflicting feelings of sorrow, astonishment, andmystification. The rapid and exciting events of the night had turnedhis head into a mental chaos, as they very well might, but he still hadcommonsense enough left to know that something must be done about thisimmediately. He knew the best place to take Ormiston was to the nearestapothecary's shop, which establishments were generally open, and filled,the whole livelong night, by the sick and their friends. As he wasmeditating whether or not to call the surly watchman to help him carrythe body, a pest-cart came, providentially, along, and the driver-seeinga young man bending over a prostrate form-guessed at once what was thematter, and came to a halt.

  "Another one!" he said, coming leisurely up, and glancing at thelifeless form with a very professional eye. "Well, I think there is roomfor another one in the cart; so bear a hand, friend, and let us have himout of this."

  "You are mistaken!" said Sir Norman sharply, "he has not died of theplague. I am not even certain whether he is dead at all."

  The driver looked at Sir Norman, then stooped down and touchedOrmiston's icy face, and listened to hear him breathe. He stood up aftera moment, with some thing like a small laugh.

  "If he's alive," he said, turning to go, "then I never saw any one dead!Good night, sir, I wish you joy when you bring him to."

  "Stay!" exclaimed the young man, "I wish you to assist me in bringinghim to yonder apothecary's shop, and you may have this for your pains."

  "This" proved to be a talisman of alacrity; for the man pocketed it, andbriskly laid hold of Ormiston by the feet, while Sir Norman wrapped hiscloak reverently about him and took him by the shoulders. In this stylehis body was conveyed to the apothecary's shop which they found halffull of applicants for medicine, among whom their entrance with thecorpse produced no greater sensation than a momentary stare. The attireand bearing of Sir Norman proving him to be something different fromtheir usual class of visitors, bringing one of the drowsy apprenticesimmediately to his side, inquiring what were his orders.

  "A private room, and your master's attendance directly," was theauthoritative reply.

  Both were to be had; the former, a hole in the wall behind the shop; thelatter, a pallid, cadaverous-looking person, with the air of one who hadbeen dead a week, thought better of it and rose again. There was along table in the aforesaid hole in the wall, bearing a strong familylikeness to a dissecting-table; upon which the stark figure was laid,and the pest-cart driver disappeared. The apothecary held a mirrorclose to the face; applied his ear to the pulse and heart; held apocket-mirror over his mouth, looked at it; shook his head; and set downthe candle with decision.

  "The man is dead, sir!" was his criticism, "dead as a door nail! All themedicine in the shop wouldn't kindle one spark of life in such ashes!"

  "At least, try! Try something--bleeding for instance," suggested SirNorman.

  Again the apothecary examined the body, and again he shook his headdolefully.

  "It's no use, sir: but, if it will please, you can try."

  The right arm was bared; the lancet inserted, one or two black dropssluggishly followed and nothing more.

  "It's all a waste of time, you see," remarked the apothecary, wiping hisdreadful little weapon, "he's as dead as ever I saw anybody in my life!How did he come to his end, sir--not by the plague?"

  "I don't know," said Sir Norman, gloomily. "I wish you would tell methat."

  "Can't do it, sir; my skill doesn't extend that far. There is noplague-spot or visible wound or bruise on the person; so he must havedied of some internal complaint--probably disease of the heart."

  "Never knew him to have such a thing," said Sir Norman, sighing. "Itis very mysterious and very dreadful, and notwithstanding all you havesaid, I cannot believe him dead. Can he not remain here until morning,at least?"

  The starved apothecary looked at him out of a pair of hollow, melancholyeyes.

  "Gold can do anything," was his plaintive reply.

  "I understand. You shall have it. Are you sure you can do nothing morefor him?"

  "Nothing whatever, sir; and excuse me, but there are customers in theshop, and I must leave, sir."

  Which he did, accordingly; and Sir Norman was left alone with all thatremained of him who, two hours before, was his warm friend. He couldscarcely believe that it was the calm majesty of death that so changedthe expression of that white face, and yet, the longer he looked, themore deeply an inward conviction assured him that it was so. He chafedthe chilling hands and face, he applied hartshorn and burnt feathers tothe nostrils, but all these applications, though excellent in their way,could not exactly raise the dead to life, and, in this case, proveda signal failure. He gave up his doctoring, at last, in despair, andfolding his arms, looked down at what lay on the table, and triedto convince himself that it was Ormiston. So absorbed was he in theendeavor, that he heeded not the passing moments, until it struckhim with a shock that Hubert might even now be waiting for him at thetrysting-place, with news of Leoline. Love is stronger than friendship,stronger than grief, stronger than death, stronger than every otherfeeling in the world; so he suddenly seized his hat, turned his back onOrmiston and the apothecary's shop, and strode off to the place he hadquitted.

  No Hubert was there, but two figures were passing slowly along in themoonlight, and one of them he recognized, with an impulse to springat him like a tiger and strangle him. But he had been so shocked andsubdued by his recent discovery, that the impulse which, half an hourbefore, would have been unhesitatingly obeyed, went for nothing, now;and there was more of reproach, even, than anger in his voice, as hewent over and laid his hand on the shoulder of one of them.

  "Stay!" he said. "One word with you, Count L'Estrange. What have youdone with Leoline!"

  "Ah! Sir Norman, as I live!" cried the count wheeling round and liftinghis hat. "Give me good even--or rather, good morning--Kingsley, for St.Paul's has long gone the midnight hour."

  Sir Norman, with his hand still on his shoulder, returned not thecourtesy, and regarding the gallant count with a stern eye.

  "Where is Leoline?" he frigidly repeated.

  "Really," said the count, with some embarrassment, "you attack me sounexpectedly, and so like a ghost or a highwayman--by the way I have aword to say to you about highwaymen, and was seeking you to say it."

  "Where is Leoline?" shouted the exasperated young knight, releasing hisshoulder, and clutching him by the throat. "Tell me or, by Heaven! I'llpitch you neck and heels into the Thames!"

  Instantly the sword of the count's companion flashed in the moonli
ght,and, in two seconds more, its blue blade would have ended the earthlycareer of Sir Norman Kingsley, had not the count quickly sprang back,and made a motion for his companion to hold.

  "Wait!" he cried, commandingly, with his arm outstretched to each. "Keepoff! George, sheathe your sword and stand aside. Sir Norman Kingsley,one word with you, and be it in peace."

  "There can be no peace between us," replied that aggravated younggentleman, fiercely "until you tell me what has become of Leoline."

  "All in good time. We have a listener, and does it not strike you ourconference should be private!"

  "Public or private, it matters not a jot, so that you tell me whatyou've done with Leoline," replied Sir Norman, with whom it was evidentgetting beyond this question was a moral and physical impossibility."And if you do not give an account of yourself, I'll run you through assure as your name is Count L'Estrange!"

  A strange sort of smile came over the face of the count at this direfulthreat, as if he fancied in that case, he was safe enough; but SirNorman, luckily, did not see it, and heard only the suave reply:

  "Certainly, Sir Norman; I shall be delighted to do so. Let us stand overthere in the shadow of that arch; and, George, do you remain here withincall."

  The count blandly waved Sir Norman to follow, which Sir Norman did, withmuch the mein of a sulky lion; and, a moment after, both were facingeach other within the archway.

  "Well!" cried the young knight, impatiently; "I am waiting. Go on!"

  "My dear Kingsley," responded the count, in his easy way, "I think youare laboring under a little mistake. I have nothing to go on about; itis you who are to begin the controversy."

  "Do you dare to play with me?" exclaimed Sir Norman, furiously. "I tellyou to take care how you speak! What have you done with Leoline?"

  "That is the fourth or fifth time that you've asked me that question,"said the count, with provoking indifference. "What do you imagine I havedone with her?"

  Sir Norman's feelings, which had been rising ever since their meeting,got up to such a height at this aggravating question, that he gave ventto an oath, and laid his hand on his sword; but the count's hand lightlyinterposed before it came out.

  "Not yet, Sir Norman. Be calm; talk rationally. What do you accuse me ofdoing with Leoline?"

  "Do you dare deny having carried her off?"

  "Deny it? No; I am never afraid to father my own deeds."

  "Ah!" said Sir Norman grinding his teeth. "Then you acknowledge it?"

  "I acknowledge it--yes. What next?"

  The perfect composure of his tone fell like a cool, damp towel on thefire of Sir Norman's wrath. It did not quite extinguish the flame,however--only quenched it a little--and it still hissed hotlyunderneath.

  "And you dare to stand before me and acknowledge such an act?" exclaimedSir Norman, perfectly astounded at the cool assurance of the man.

  "Verily, yea," said the count, laughing. "I seldom take the trouble todeny my acts. What next?"

  "There is nothing next," said Sir Norman, severely, "until we have cometo a proper understanding about this. Are you aware, sir, that that ladyis my promised bride?"

  "No, I do not know that I am. On the contrary, I have an idea she ismine."

  "She was, you mean. You know she was forced into consenting by yourselfand her nurse!"

  "Still she consented; and a bond is a bond, and a promise a promise, allthe world over."

  "Not with a woman," said Sir Norman, with stern dogmatism. "It is theirprivilege to break their promise and change their mind sixty times anhour, if they choose. Leoline has seen fit to do both, and has acceptedme in your stead; therefore I command you instantly to give her up!"

  "Softly, my friend--softly. How was I to know all this?"

  "You ought to have known it!" returned Sir Norman, in the samedogmatical way; "or if you didn't, you do now; so say no more about it.Where is she, I tell you?" repeated the young man, in a frenzy.

  "Your patience one moment longer, until we see which of us has the bestright to the lady. I have a prior claim."

  "A forced one. Leoline does not care a snap far you--and she loves me."

  "What extraordinary bad taste!" said the count, thoughtfully. "Did shetell you that?"

  "Yes; she did tell me this, and a great deal more. Come--have donetalking, and tell me where she is, or I'll--"

  "Oh, no, you wouldn't!" said the count, teasingly. "Since matters standin this light I'll tell you what I'll do. I acknowledge that I carriedoff Leoline, viewing her as my promised bride, and have sent her to myown home in the care of a trusty messenger, where I give you my word ofhonor, I have not been since. She is as safe there, and much safer thanin her own house, until morning, and it would be a pity to disturb herat this unseasonable hour. When the morning comes, we will both go toher together--state our rival claims--and whichever one she decides onaccepting, can have her, and end the matter at once."

  The count paused and meditated. This proposal was all very plausibleand nice on the surface, but Sir Norman with his usual penetration andacuteness, looked farther than the surface, and found a flaw.

  "And how am I to know," he asked, doubtingly, "that you will not go toher to-night and spirit her off where I will never hear of either of youagain?"

  "In the very best way in the world: we will not part company untilmorning comes, are we at peace?" inquired the count, smiling and holdingout but hand.

  "Until then, we will have to be, I suppose," replied Sir Norman, ratherungraciously taking the hand as if it were red-hot, and droppingit again. "And we are to stand here and rail at each other, in themeantime?"

  "By no means! Even the most sublime prospect tires when surveyed toolong. There is a little excursion which I would like you to accompany meon, if you have no objection."

  "Where to?"

  "To the ruin, where you have already been twice to-night."

  Sir Norman stared.

  "And who told you this fact, Sir Count?"

  "Never mind; I have heard it. Would you object to a third excursionthere before morning?"

  Again Sir Norman paused and meditated. There was no use in staying wherehe was, that would bring him no nearer to Leoline, and nothing was to begained by killing the count beyond the mere transitory pleasure ofthe thing. On the other hand, he had an intense and ardent desireto re-visit the ruin, and learn what had become of Miranda--the onlydraw-back being that, if they were found they would both be mostassuredly beheaded. Then, again, there was Hubert.

  "Well," inquired the count, as Sir Norman looked up.

  "I have no objection to go with you to the ruin," was the reply, "onlythis; if we are seen there, we will be dead men two minutes after; andI have no desire to depart this life until I have had that promisedinterview with Leoline."

  "I have thought of that," said the count, "and have provided for it. Wemay venture in the lion's den without the slightest danger: all that isrequired being your promise to guide us thither. Do you give it?"

  "I do; but I expect a friend here shortly, and cannot start until hecomes."

  "If you mean me by that, I am here," said a voice at his elbow; and,looking round, he saw Hubert himself, standing there, a quiet listenerand spectator of the scene.

  Count L'Estrange looked at him with interest, and Hubert, affecting notto notice the survey, watched Sir Norman.

  "Well," was that individual's eager address, "were you successful?"

  The count was still watching the boy so intently, that that mostdiscreet youth was suddenly seized with a violent fit of coughing, whichprecluded all possibility of reply for at least five minutes; and SirNorman, at the same moment, felt his arm receive a sharp and warningpinch.

  "Is this your friend?" asked the count. "He is a very small one, andseems in a bad state of health."

  Sir Norman, still under the influence of the pinch, replied by aninaudible murmur, and looked with a deeply mystified expression, atHubert.

  "He bears a strong resemblance to the lady we were ta
lking of a momentago," continued the count--"is sufficiently like her, in fact, to be herbrother; and, I see wears the livery of the Earl of Rochester."

  "God spare you your eye-sight!" said Sir Norman, impatiently. "Canyou not see, among the rest, that I have a few words to say to him inprivate? Permit us to leave you for a moment."

  "There is no need to do so. I will leave you, as I have a few words tosay to the person who is with me."

  So saying the count walked away, and Hubert followed him with a mostcurious look.

  "Now," cried Sir Norman, eagerly, "what news?"

  "Good!" said the boy. "Leoline is safe!"

  "And where?"

  "Not far from here. Didn't he tell you?"

  "The count? No--yes; he said she was at his house."

  "Exactly. That is where she is," said Hubert, looking much relieved."And, at present, perfectly safe."

  "And did you see her?"

  "Of course; and heard her too. She was dreadfully anxious to come withme; but that was out of the question."

  "And how is she to be got away?"

  "That I do not clearly see. We will have to bring a ladder, and therewill be so much danger, and so little chance of success, that, to me itseems an almost hopeless task. Where did you meet Count L'Estrange?"

  "Here; and he told me that he had abducted her, and held her a prisonerin his own house."

  "He owned that did he? I wonder you were not fit to kill him?"

  "So I was, at first, but he talked the matter over somehow."

  And hereupon Sir Norman briefly and quickly rehearsed the substance oftheir conversation. Hubert listened to it attentively, and laughed as heconcluded.

  "Well, I do not see that you can do otherwise, Sir Norman, and Ithink it would be wise to obey the count for to-night, at least. Thento-morrow--if things do not go on well, we can take the law in our ownhands."

  "Can we?" said Sir Norman, doubtfully, "I do wish you would tell me whothis infernal count is, Hubert, for I am certain you know."

  "Not until to-morrow--you shall know him then."

  "To-morrow! to-morrow!" exclaimed Sir Norman, disconsolately."Everything is postponed until to-morrow! Oh, here comes the count backagain. Are we going to start now, I wonder?"

  "Is your friend to accompany us on our expedition?" inquired the count,standing before them. "It shall be quite as you say, Mr. Kingsley."

  "My friend can do as he pleases. What do you say, Hubert?"

  "I should like to go, of all things, if neither of you have anyobjections."

  "Come on, then," said the count, "we will find horses in readiness ashort distance from this."

  The three started together, and walked on in silence through severalstreets, until they reached a retired inn, where the count's recentcompanion stood, with the horses. Count L'Estrange whispered a few wordsto him, upon which he bowed and retired; and in an instant they were allin the saddle, and galloping away.

  The journey was rather a silent one, and what conversation there was,was principally sustained by the count. Hubert's usual flow of pertinentchat seemed to have forsaken him, and Sir Norman had so many otherthings to think of--Leoline, Ormiston, Miranda, and the mysterious counthimself--that he felt in no mood for talking. Soon, they left the citybehind them; the succeeding two miles were quickly passed over, andthe "Golden Crown," all dark and forsaken, now hove in sight. As theyreached this, and cantered up the road leading to the ruin, Sir Normandrew rein, and said:

  "I think our best plan would be, to dismount, and lead our horses therest of the way, and not incur any unnecessary danger by making a noise.We can fasten them to these trees, where they will be at hand when wecome out."

  "Wait one moment," said the count, lifting his finger with a listeninglook. "Listen to that!"

  It was a regular tramp of horses' hoofs, sounding in the silence like acharge of cavalry. While they looked, a troop of horsemen came gallopingup, and came to a halt when they saw the count.

  No words can depict the look of amazement Sir Norman's face wore;but Hubert betrayed not the least surprise. The count glanced at hiscompanions with a significant smile, and riding back, held a briefcolloquy with him who seemed the leader of the horsemen. He rode up tothem, smiling still, and saying, as he passed,

  "Now then, Kingsley; lead on, and we will follow!"

  "I go not one step further," said Sir Norman, firmly, "until I know whoI am leading. Who are you, Count L'Estrange?"

  The count looked at him, but did not answer. A warning hand--that ofHubert--grasped Sir Norman's arm; and Hubert's voice whispered hurriedlyin his ear:

  "Hush, for God's sake! It is the king!"