Ainslee's, Vol. 15, No. 6, July 1905. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
faltering steps the lady moved by his side. Once he thought he heard a sob, and he laid a hand on her arm to comfort her.
“You must have courage, my lady,” he muttered. “You must take courage to Lord Farquhart.”
Once in the flare of a passing torch he saw the girl quite distinctly. She was draped all in scarlet, a scarlet velvet coat and hood, and, underneath, a scarlet petticoat. One hand held a corner of the cloak about her chin and lips, and, under the drooping hood, he saw a black silk mask. She shrank toward him as the light fell on her and caught his arm with her free hand. He laid his hand protectingly on hers, and after that, until they reached the sheriff’s lodge, she held fast to him.
Even when Lindley showed his permits to the guard on duty, she still held him fast, and it was well that she did, for she seemed almost to swoon when their entry was denied.
All permits to see the prisoner had been revoked at sundown, the fellow said. The prisoner’s case had come before the court that afternoon. He was to be sentenced in the morning at ten o’clock. No, Lord Grimsby had not been present. Lord Grimsby had been summoned from Padusey, however, to pronounce the highwayman’s doom.
For an instant the Lady Barbara seemed about to fall forward. Her entire weight hung on Lindley’s arm. He supported her as best he could, but his own voice shook as he whispered once more:
“Courage, courage, my lady!”
Then his anger vented itself upon the guard.
“Have you no sense, blockhead?” he cried. “How dare you blurt out your tidings in such a careless fashion? Do you not see the lady? Did I not tell you that it was the Lady Barbara Gordon’s name in that permit? You’ve likely killed her with your words.”
For, indeed, it seemed a dead weight that he held in his arms. The guard thrust forward a bench, and Lindley tried to place the lady down upon it, but she clung to him almost convulsively. When he attempted to take the cloak from over her mouth, he heard her whispered words.
“Ah, get me away from here, away from here – anywhere. I can walk, I – Indeed I can walk!”
Then she stood erect and turned away from the guarded door, but Lindley still hesitated there.
“At ten o’clock you said the prisoner would be sentenced?” he asked.
“Ay, at ten o’clock, they said.”
Then Lindley heard the Lady Barbara’s voice.
“You said Lord Grimsby would come to-night from Padusey?” she asked, faintly.
“Yes, from Padusey, to-night,” the guard answered once again.
Why did she care from where Lord Grimsby would come, Lindley demanded, savagely, of himself. Was this a time to think of trivial things like that? And although he supported her as tenderly, as courteously, as he could, he felt in every fiber of him that it was this woman alone who was responsible for Lord Farquhart’s fate, and he longed to be free from her. Monotonously he was counting the distance that must be traversed with her clinging to his arm, when suddenly she drew away from him and stopped short.
“Enough of this, Master Lindley!” It was Johan’s voice that came from the hidden hooded face.
“Johan!” cried Lindley, now in a frenzy of indignation. “What do you mean by bringing your cursed play acting into a tragedy like this? Have you no heart whatsoever?”
“Nay, I’ve heart enough and to spare,” the boy returned. “And ’tis not all play acting, by any means. Did I not tell you that I would personate the Lady Barbara? Did I not have to practice my part before I passed the guards? Did you not serve me as well for that as anyone? But there’s no time for more of it. And I’ve no time for foolish words and explanations, either.” He had thrown aside the mask, the scarlet coat and hood, and at last he stepped from the scarlet petticoat, standing slim and long in black silk hose and short black tunic, his black curls that fringed his small black cap alone shading his eyes. “Listen to me, Master Lindley, and save your reproaches until I’ve time for them. There are still more chances to save Lord Farquhart, and not one must be lost. Not one second can be wasted. Take these woman’s togs and throw them inside Master Timothy Ogilvie’s gate, where they’ll be found in the morning. I – I leave you here.”
“But where are you going?” demanded Lindley. “You cannot cross London at night in that guise, with no coat or cloak about you. You’ve woman’s shoes on your feet. You’re mad, boy, and you’ll be held by the first sentry you pass.”
Johan, who had turned away, stopped and came back to Lindley’s side.
“Ay, perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Give me your coat and lend me your sword. I may have need of it, and you’ve but to pass Master Ogilvie’s, and then to reach your own lodging, a safer transit than mine by many odds. And – and, Master Lindley, wait in your lodgings until you hear from me. Wait there unless it nears ten o’clock. If you’ve not heard from me by then, you’ll find me there, where Lord Farquhart is to be sentenced, and – and be on the alert for any signal that may be made to you by anyone, and – and – ” He had buckled Lindley’s sword about his waist, he had wrapped himself in Lindley’s coat, and still he hesitated. Suddenly he dashed his hand across his eyes. “Ah, I’ve no time for more,” he cried, “save only – only good-by.”
He was gone into the darkness, and Lindley was left alone – coatless and swordless – with a bundle of scarlet garments under his arm, and, in his heart, an inexplicable longing to follow the boy, Johan, into the night.
XIX
It seemed as though fate had decreed that there should be but two more acts in the career of Lord Farquhart. All London knew that he was to be condemned to death for highway robbery at ten o’clock on the Friday morning. All London knew that his hanging would quickly follow its decree, and all London, apparently, was determined to see, at least, the first act in the melodrama. The court was crowded with society’s wits and beaux, with society’s belles, many of the latter hooded and masked, but many revealing to all the world their ardent sympathy for the prisoner at the bar.
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