The Brown Mask

  CHAPTER IX

  "THE JOLLY FARMERS"

  For a few moments the very daring of the leap paralysed the hunters. Theman had surely gone to his death, preferring an end of this sort to theone that most surely awaited him if he were captured. They had looked tosee horse and rider crash downwards to destruction, or perchance fallbackwards to be crushed and maimed past all healing; but when neither ofthese things happened a cry of astonishment, not unmingled withadmiration, burst from a dozen throats. The shouting had brought menrunning from the other sides of the house; a few of them were in time tosee the leap accomplished and to realise that Galloping Hermit had beenin their midst; others saw only a straggling group of horsemen at fault,and looked in vain for the reason of the shouting. Lord Rosmore himselfwas too surprised to give orders as quickly as he might have done, andmade up for the delay by swearing roundly at everybody about him.

  "Fools! What are you waiting for?" he cried savagely. "There are moreways into the wood than over that cursed fence."

  He turned to one man and gave him quick instructions concerning thewatch to be kept on the Manor House, and then spurred his horse into thewood after the mounted men who had already started in pursuit.

  Either from actual knowledge, or conviction, the highwayman seemed to becertain that at this spot the woods surrounding Lenfield Manor would notbe so carefully watched, that so stiff a fence would be deemedsufficient to make escape that way impossible. To the right and left ofit, however, men were sure to be stationed; so, with a soothing word tohis horse, he plunged into the depths of the wood along a narrow track,as one who knew his way perfectly and was acting on some preconceivedplan. In a small clearing he halted, listening for the sounds ofpursuit, and then pressed forward again until he presently came out uponthe green sward bordering a road. Again he halted to listen, and,satisfied that the hunters were not too perilously close upon his heels,he cantered in the direction of the open country which lay to his right.He was now riding in a direction which made an angle with the way someof his pursuers had evidently taken; he knew the spot where the two waysmet, and halted again when he reached it. Here a broad glade cut intothe very heart of the wood, and down it came three horsemen at a trot,looking to right and left as they came, searching for their hiddenquarry. Then they saw him at the end of the glade, and shouted as theyput spurs into their horses. The shouts were answered from other partsof the wood, and the highwayman smiled underneath his mask as he pattedhis horse's neck.

  "We'll give them a hopeful chase for a while, my beauty; presently youshall stretch yourself and leave them behind, but it's a steady canterfor a time. No, no; not even so fast as that. We are well out of pistolshot."

  Six men took up the chase, their faces set with grim determination. Theywere well mounted, and hopeful of success. They had every incentive todo their utmost.

  "There is a large reward offered for the capture of the wearer of thebrown mask," said Lord Rosmore. "He is, besides, Gilbert Crosby, arebel, and, further, I have a private account to settle with him. Idouble the reward."

  The men nodded. It would be strange if six of them could not compass thedownfall of one. They rode on in silence, sometimes with increased hopeas the distance between them and the highwayman lessened a little,sometimes with muttered curses when they realised that their horses weredoing as much as they were able.

  "I think he tires a little," said one man presently, and Lord Rosmoresaw that they had materially gained upon their quarry.

  "Where will this take us?" he asked.

  "We should strike the West Road soon," was the answer. "He'll have ahiding-hole somewhere near it, maybe."

  "He is too clever to lead us to it," said Rosmore. "He'll change hisline presently, and we may have to separate. But his horse is tiring,that is certain. Press forward, lads; if we gain only inches it musttell in time."

  The day was drawing to a close. Evening shadows were beginning to stealup from behind distant woods. There would be light for a long while yet,but the chase must end before the shadows grew too deep, or thehighwayman's chances would be many. The road took a wide circle througha plantation, and then ran straight across a stretch of common land,gradually mounting upwards to a distant ridge. As they galloped throughthe plantation the highwayman was lost sight of for a few moments roundthe bend in the road. The hunters pressed their horses forward at thetop of their speed, conscious that in such a place the fugitive mightquite possibly slip away from them; but when they came on to thestraight road he was still in front of them, farther in front of themthan he had been at any time during the chase. The highwayman turned tolook back, and seemed to check his horse a little, but his advantage didnot appear to decrease.

  "What a magnificent beast he rides!" exclaimed Rosmore. "We shall haveto separate, and without his knowing it. The opportunity will comedirectly. Look! I thought as much."

  The highwayman had evidently only tried his horse's power. He was quitesatisfied that he could distance his pursuers when he liked, and thoughtthat the time had come. He was leaning forward in his saddle now, ridingalmost as a trick rider might do, but the effect was great. Possibly hecontrived to shift his weight, for the horse suddenly bounded forward,breasting the hill to the ridge in splendid fashion. He might have beenat the beginning of the race instead of nearing the end of it.

  "Playing with us all the time!" said one man with a curse.

  "That pace cannot last," Rosmore returned. "Keep after him. The momenthe is over the ridge, you, Sayers and Watson, come with me. You otherskeep after him. He may be headed away from the road, which must lie justbeyond the ridge. Perhaps we shall cut him off, for I have an idea hemeans to turn upon his track. Capture, or no capture, there's money forthis day's work."

  As the highwayman disappeared over the ridge Lord Rosmore and his twomen turned at right angles from the road and went across the common; theothers continued the pursuit, but going not a whit faster than they werebefore. No amount of spurring served to lengthen the stride of theirhorses. To follow seemed hopeless, was hopeless unless the unexpectedhappened.

  "Let our horses walk for a few moments," said Rosmore. "You know thispart of the country, Sayers; what should you say our direction is now?"

  "I don't know it over-well, my lord, but I should say we've gotSalisbury almost straight behind us and Winchester some miles in thatdirection," and the man pointed a little to the right. "I should saywe've been riding pretty well due north from Lenfield."

  "Then if the highwayman wanted to make Winchester he would have to crossus somewhere if we go straight forward?"

  "He would, my lord, but since we've been after him he's given no sign ofmaking for Winchester," Sayers answered.

  "An inquiry in that direction may give us some information," saidRosmore. "I have an idea that the Brown Mask will be seen along theWinchester Road presently."

  "These horses will be no match for his."

  "They must carry us a little farther, but the pace may be easy," saidRosmore, shaking his jaded animal into a trot, and the two men rode sideby side a few paces behind him. Strange to say, failure seemed to haveimproved Rosmore's temper rather than aggravated it. He had at least ascore of witnesses to prove who Galloping Hermit was. A girl might beromantic enough to pity such a man, but it could hardly be that pitywhich is akin to love.

  "She has the pride of her race in her," he murmured. "I would not haveit otherwise. There are a dozen ways to a woman's heart, and if need beI will try them all."

  The prospect appeared to please him, for he smiled. So for two hoursthey rode in the general direction of Winchester.

  "This is foolery," whispered Sayers to his companion. "I warrant theBrown Mask has gone to earth long ago. His lordship has more knowledgeof this way than he pretends, I shouldn't wonder, and knows of a nestwith a pretty bird in it. There may be other birds about to look afterher, Watson. Such kind of hunting is more to my taste than the sortwe've been sweated with to-day."

  They were presently traversing a road wit
h a wood on one side and fieldson the other, when a glimmer of light shone in front of them, and thebarking of a dog, catching the sound of the approaching horsemenprobably, awoke the evening echoes. Back against the trees nestled "TheJolly Farmers," an inn of good repute in this neighbourhood, both forthe quality of its liquor and the amiable temper of its landlord. Aguest had entered not five minutes ago, and was talking to the landlordin an inner parlour when the barking of the dog interrupted them.

  "Horses!" said the landlord. "They follow you so sharply that it is wellto be cautious. This way, sir."

  He touched the wall where there certainly was no sign of a door, yet adoor swung open inwards, disclosing a dark and narrow chamber. The guestentered it without question, and the landlord hurried out to meet thenew arrivals.

  "You ride late, gentlemen."

  "And would sample your liquor, landlord," said Rosmore, dismounting andbidding his men do the same. "Have the horses looked to."

  The landlord called in a stentorian voice, and a lad came running fromthe rear of the premises.

  "Any other guests to-night, landlord?" Rosmore asked as he passed intothe inn.

  "No, sir, and not much chance of them. They're having a sort of feast inthe village yonder--dancing and such-like; and what business there is'The Blue Boar' will get--unless, mind you, a pair o' lovers is temptedto come up this way for the sake o' the walk."

  "How far is the village?"

  "Three-quarters of a mile by the road, half a mile by the path throughthe wood. But, bless you, sir, if the lovers were to come they'd gettheir refreshment out o' kisses and not trouble my ale."

  "What do you call this place?"

  "'The Jolly Farmers,' sir, and I'm called Tom Saunders, very much atyour service."

  "A poor spot for an inn, surely?" said Rosmore.

  "There are better, and there are worse," was the answer. "We're in touchwith the main road, and they are good enough to say that theentertainment is worth going a little out of the way for."

  "No doubt. We will judge for ourselves."

  "And, although I blush to mention it, folks have a kind of liking forTom Saunders himself. It's often the landlord that makes the inn."

  If the landlord blushed, it made no appreciable difference to his rosycountenance, which grinned good-humouredly as he executed Lord Rosmore'sorders.

  "Truly, it is good liquor," said Rosmore when he had sampled it. "Do youget good company to come out of their way to taste it?"

  "Ay, sir, at times, and a few soldiers lately. You and your two men herewill be from the West, very like. I've heard of Sedgemoor fight. May oneknow the latest news?"

  "Who told you of Sedgemoor?"

  "I think it was the smith down in the village, or it might 'a beenBoyce, the carpenter; anyway, it was somebody down yonder. They'd heardit from someone on the road."

  "Monmouth is taken," and Rosmore watched the landlord closely as he saidit.

  "That'll be good news for King James," was the answer. "Would it betreason to say I'm sorry for them who've been foolish enough to take uparms?"

  "Too near it to be wise. Pity of that kind often leads a man to givehelp, and that's the worst kind of treason."

  "So I've heard say, but I never could understand the rights and wrongsof the law, nor, for that matter, the lawyers neither. I'd a lawyer herenot many weeks back, and all his learning hadn't taught him to know goodale when he put his lips to it. What's the good of learning if it can'tteach you that?"

  "Do you number him amongst your good company?" asked Rosmore.

  "I don't, but he'd reckon himself that way."

  "You'll be having other company before long asking you to find themhiding-places. The rebels are being hunted in every direction."

  "We're too far away," said the landlord. "Bless you, we're a sight o'miles from Bridgwater, and most o' these fellows ain't got horses tocarry them. They won't trouble 'The Jolly Farmers,' sir."

  "And if they did?"

  "The bolts on the door are strong enough to keep them out."

  "The bolts, if used, are more likely to keep them out than thedistance," said Rosmore; and, although the landlord still smiled, he wasquite conscious of the doubt expressed concerning the use of the bolts.Rosmore paused for him to speak, but when he remained silent went on."We are searching for a rebel now, one Gilbert Crosby. Do you reckon himamongst your good company?"

  "I might if I had ever heard of him," the landlord answered.

  "Who is in the house at this moment?" Rosmore asked.

  "A wench in the kitchen, and myself. My daughter is in the village atthe merry-making, and the only other person about the place to-night isthe boy who is looking after your horses."

  "I am sorry to inconvenience you, landlord, but I must make a search. Ifyou're honest you will not mind the inconvenience."

  "Mind!" the landlord exclaimed. "I like to see a man do his duty,whatever that duty may be, and whatever the man's station may be."

  "Spoken honestly," said Rosmore. "Watson, you will stay here. Savers,come with me, and you come, too, landlord."

  The search was a thorough one, and although Rosmore keenly watched thelandlord he could discover no sign of fear either in his face orattitude. Watson had nothing to report when they returned to thetap-room.

  "Tell me, landlord, what persons of quality have you in the nearneighbourhood?"

  Saunders mentioned several names, amongst them Sir Peter Faulkner.

  "Are we near Sir Peter's? That is good hearing. He will give me awelcome and good cheer."

  "You take the road through the village," said Saunders. "It's less thanfive miles to Sir Peter's."

  "We'll get on our way, then," said Rosmore. Then he turned quickly uponthe landlord. "Do you know Galloping Hermit, the highwayman?"

  "Well, by name. A good many have had the misfortune of meeting him onthe West Road yonder. And, to tell the truth, sir, I believe I've seenhim once--and without the brown mask, too."

  "When?" Rosmore asked sharply.

  "It may be three, perhaps four, months back. A horseman galloped up tothe door, just at dusk, and called for ale. He did not dismount, and Itook the drink to him myself. There was nothing very noticeable abouthim, only that his eyes were sharp and restless, and he held his head alittle sideways as if he were listening. It was the horse that took myattention rather than the man. It was an animal, sir, you'd not meet thelikes of in a week's journey. When the horse had galloped into theshadows of the night I said to myself, there goes the highwayman for acertainty."

  "And you've never seen him since?"

  "No, nor shall now, since he was hanged lately at Tyburn."

  "That was a mistake, landlord. Galloping Hermit is still alive. I haveseen him to-night."

  "Alive!"

  "Ay, and the horse you describe fits with the animal he was riding."

  "I hope your honour was not robbed of much."

  "Of nothing, my good friend," laughed Rosmore, "except of thesatisfaction of laying him by the heels."

  "Still alive, is he?" said the landlord. "I cannot credit it. Maybe 'tissomeone else who wears the brown mask now, and trades on the other'sfame."

  "It is not likely, and if it is so he must suffer for the other's sins,"said Rosmore; but the idea lingered with him as he rode away from theinn, followed by Watson and Sayers.

  As they passed through the village the sound of dancing to the music ofa fiddle came from a large barn by the roadside, and a brisk trade wasbeing done at an ale-house over the way. Lord Rosmore had small sympathywith the common folk and their amusements; besides, he was thinkingdeeply of the landlord's suggestion. Fate seemed to have thrust certaincards into his hand to play--cards which seemed to belong to twoseparate games, and which, if he could only join them into one, mightbring him victory. How was he to join them? Somewhere there was a cardmissing, a link which must be supplied. Did the landlord's suggestionsupply it? As he rode slowly forward the sound of the dancing andlaughter was gradually hushed; only the far-c
arrying notes of the fiddlelingered a little longer. Lord Rosmore fancied he heard the notes longafter it was possible for him to do so. Even as Sir Peter welcomed himpresently they seemed to be sounding faintly in his ears.

  In the tap-room of "The Jolly Farmers" the landlord sat staring at theopposite wall for some time. He looked as if he were counting over andover again the glasses and tankards which hung or stood on shelvesthere, and could not get the number to his satisfaction. Once or twicehe turned his head towards the door and listened, but appeared to catchno sound worthy of investigation. Once he got up and stepped lightly tothe parlour beyond, and looked towards the secret door which he hadopened for his guest, but he did not touch it. Satisfied that no soundcame from that direction, he went back and stared at the glasses andtankards again. Presently he went to the inn door and looked out at thenight. There was a soft breeze singing along the road, and a multitudeof stars overhead. The breeze carried no other sound besides its ownmusic.

  A good two hours passed after the departure of the horsemen before thelandlord's usual energy returned. Then he went into the inner parlourand opened the secret door. A few moments elapsed before the gueststepped out. It seemed as if he were not quite certain of the landlord'shonesty.

  "Well, has he come?" he asked.

  "No, but they have gone," the landlord answered. "Three horsemen who hadridden far looking for a rebel."

  "I must thank you for hiding me so securely. For your courtesy I shouldtell you my name. I am--"

  "Better let me stay in ignorance," said Saunders. "I am in no positionto answer questions then."

  "As you will; and, truly, I am on an adventure of which I understandlittle and was warned to speak of sparingly. I was to make for this innand inquire for a fiddler. How this fiddler fellow is to serve me I donot know."

  "Nor I," answered the landlord.

  At that moment a little cadence of notes, strangely like a laugh, fellupon their ears, and there came a fiddler into the tap-room.

  "Ale, Master Boniface, ale. I could get well drunk upon the generosityof your village yonder. See how they rewarded this fiddle of mine formaking them dance." And he held out a handful of small coins. "Ale,then, and let it be to the brim. Has anyone inquired for a poor fellowlike me?"

  "This gentleman," said the landlord.

  The fiddler looked steadily into the eyes of the guest for a moment, asif he were trying to recall his face, then he bowed.

  "Martin Fairley, sir, is very much at your service."