"If you're wanting to lift a la.s.sie or to carry the war to a foe I'll be blithe to stand at your back. You may trust Red Donald for that whatever."

"You put your finger on my ambitions, Captain Macdonald. I'm wanting to do just those two things. You come to scratch so readily that I hope you have had some practice of your own," I laughed.

There was wine on the table and I filled the gla.s.ses.

"If no other sword leaves scabbard mine shall," I cried in a flame of new-born enthusiasm. "Gentlemen, I give you the King over the water."

"King James! G.o.d bless him," echoed Balmerino and Creagh.

"Deoch slaint an Righ! (The King's Drink). And win or lose, we shall have a beautiful time of it whatever," cried Donald gaily.

An hour later Kenneth Montagu, Jacobite, walked home arm in arm with Anthony Creagh and Donald Roy Macdonald. He was setting forth to them a tale of an imprisoned maid and a plan for the rescue of that same lady.

CHAPTER IV

OF LOVE AND WAR

All day the rain had splashed down with an unusual persistence, but now there was a rising wind and a dash of clear sky over to the south which promised fairer weather. I was blithe to see it, for we had our night's work cut out for us and a driving storm would not add to our comfort.

From my hat, from the elbows of my riding-coat, and from my boot-heels constant rivulets ran; but I took pains to keep the pistols under my doublet dry as toast. At the courtyard of the inn I flung myself from my horse and strode to the taproom where my companions awaited me. In truth they were making the best of their circ.u.mstances. A hot water jug steamed in front of the hearth where Creagh lolled in a big armchair. At the table Captain Macdonald was compounding a brew by the aid of lemons, spices, and brandy. They looked the picture of content, and I stood streaming in the doorway a moment to admire the scene.

"What luck, Montagu?" asked Creagh.

"They're at 'The Jolly Soldier' all right _en route_ for Epsom," I told him. "Arrived a half hour before I left. Hamish Gorm is hanging about there to let us know when they start. Volney has given orders for a fresh relay of horses, so they are to continue their journey to-night."

"And the lady?"

"The child looks like an angel of grief. She is quite out of hope. Faith, her despair took me by the heart."

"My certes! I dare swear it," returned Donald Roy dryly. "And did you make yourself known to her?"

"No, she went straight to her room. Volney has given it out that the lady is his wife and is demented. His man Watkins spreads the report broadcast to forestall any appeal she may make for help. I talked with the valet in the stables. He had much to say about how dearly his master and his mistress loved each other, and what a pity 'twas that the lady has lately fallen out of her mind by reason of illness. 'Twas the one thing that spoilt the life of Mr. Armitage, who fairly dotes on his sweet lady. Lud, yes! And one of her worst delusions is that he is not really her husband and that he wishes to harm her. Oh, they have contrived well their precious story to avoid outside interference."

I found more than one cause to doubt the fortunate issue of the enterprise upon which we were engaged. Volney might take the other road; or he might postpone his journey on account of the foul weather. Still other contingencies rose to my mind, but Donald Roy and Creagh made light of them.

"Havers! If he is the man you have drawn for me he will never be letting a smirr of rain interfere with his plans; and as for the other road, it will be a river in spate by this time," the Highlander rea.s.sured me.

"Sure, I'll give you four to one in ponies the thing does not miscarry,"

cried Creagh in his rollicking way. "After the King comes home I'll dance at your wedding, me boy; and here's to Mrs. Montagu that is to be, bedad!"

My wildest dreams had never carried me so far as this yet, and I flushed to my wig at his words; but the wild Irishman only laughed at my remonstrance.

"Faith man, 'tis you or I! 'Twould never do for three jolly blades like us to steal the lady from her lover and not offer another in exchange. No, no! Castle Creagh is crying for a mistress, and if you don't s.p.u.n.k up to the lady Tony Creagh will."

To his humour of daffing I succ.u.mbed, and fell into an extraordinary ease with the world. Here I sat in a snug little tavern with the two most taking comrades in the world drinking a hot punch brewed to a nicety, while outside the devil of a storm roared and screamed.

As for my companions, they were old campaigners, not to be ruffled by the slings of envious fortune. Captain Donald Roy was wont to bear with composure good luck and ill, content to sit him down whistling on the sodden heath to eat his mouthful of sour brose with the same good humour he would have displayed at a gathering of his clan gentlemen where the table groaned with usquebaugh, mountain trout, and Highland venison.

Creagh's philosophy too was all for taking what the G.o.ds sent and leaving uncrossed bridges till the morrow. Was the weather foul? Sure, the sun would soon shine, and what was a cloak for but to keep out the rain? I never knew him lose his light gay spirits, and I have seen him at many an evil pa.s.s.

The clatter of a horse's hoofs in the courtyard put a period to our festivities. Presently rug-headed Hamish Gorm entered, a splash of mud from brogues to bonnet.

"What news, Hamish? Has Volney started?" I cried.

"She would be leaving directly. Ta Sa.s.senach iss in ta carriage with ta daughter of Macleod, and he will be a fery goot man to stick a dirk in whatefer," fumed the gillie.

I caught him roughly by the shoulder. "There will be no dirk play this night, Hamish Gorm. Do you hear that? It will be left for your betters to settle with this man, and if you cannot remember that you will just stay here."

He muttered sullenly that he would remember, but it was a great pity if Hamish Gorm could not avenge the wrongs of the daughter of his chief.

We rode for some miles along a cross country path where the mud was so deep that the horses sank to their fetlocks. The wind had driven away the rain and the night had cleared overhead. There were still scudding clouds scouring across the face of the moon, but the promise was for a clear night. We reached the Surrey road and followed it along the heath till we came to the shadow of three great oaks. Many a d.i.c.k Turpin of the road had lurked under the drooping boughs of these same trees and sallied out to the hilltop with his ominous cry of "Stand and deliver!" Many a jolly grazier and fat squire had yielded up his purse at this turn of the road.

For a change we meant to rum-pad a baronet, and I flatter myself we made as dashing a trio of cullies as any gentlemen of the heath among them all.

It might have been a half hour after we had taken our stand that the rumbling of a coach came to our ears. The horses were splashing through the mud, plainly making no great speed. Long before we saw the chaise, the cries of the postilions urging on the horses were to be heard. After an interminable period the carriage swung round the turn of the road and began to take the rise. We caught the postilion at disadvantage as he was flogging the weary animals up the brow of the hill. He looked up and caught sight of us.

"Out of the way, fellows," he cried testily. Next instant he slipped to the ground and disappeared in the darkness, crying "'Ware highwaymen!" In the shine of the coach lamps he had seen Creagh's mask and pistol. The valet Watkins, sitting on the box, tried to lash up the leaders, but Macdonald blocked the way with his horse, what time the Irishman and I gave our attention to the occupants of the chaise.

At the first cry of the postilion a bewigged powdered head had been thrust from the window and immediately withdrawn. Now I dismounted and went forward to open the door. From the corner of the coach into which Aileen Macleod had withdrawn a pair of bright eager eyes looked into my face, but no Volney was to be seen. The open door opposite explained his disappearance. I raised the mask a moment from my face, and the girl gave a cry of joy.

"Did you think I had deserted you?" I asked.

"Oh, I did not know. I wa.s.s thinking that perhaps he had killed you. I will be thanking G.o.d that you are alive," she cried, with a sweet little lift and tremble to her voice that told me tears were near.

A shot rang out, and then another.

"Excuse me for a moment. I had forgot the gentleman," I said, hastily withdrawing my head.

As I ran round the back of the coach I came plump into Volney. Though dressed to make love and not war, I'll do him the justice to say that one was as welcome to him as the other. He was shining in silver satin and blue silk and gold lace, but in each hand he carried a great horse pistol, one of which was still smoking at the barrel. The other he pointed at me, but with my sword I thrust up the point and it went off harmlessly in the air. Then I flung him from me and covered him with my barker. Creagh also was there to emphasize the wisdom of discretion. Sir Robert Volney was as daring a man as ever lived, but he was no fool neither. He looked at my weapon shining on him in the moonlight and quietly conceded to himself that the game was against him for the moment. From his fingers he slipped the rings, and the watch from his pocket-coat. To carry out our pretension I took them and filled my pockets with his jewelry.

"A black night, my cullies," said Volney as easy as you please.

"The colour of your business," I retorted thoughtlessly.

He started, looking at me very sharp.

"Else you would not be travelling on such a night," I explained lamely.

"Ah! I think we will not discuss my business. As it happens, the lady has no jewelry with her. If you are quite through with us, my good fellows, we'll wish you a pleasant evening. Watkins, where's that d--d postilion?"

"Softly, Sir Robert! The night's young yet. Will you not spare us fifteen minutes while the horses rest?" proposed Creagh.

"Oh, if you put it that way," he answered negligently, his agile mind busy with the problem before him. I think he began to put two and two together.

My words might have been a chance shot, but when on the heel of them Creagh let slip his name Volney did not need to be told that we were not regular fly-by-nights. His eyes and his ears were intent to pierce our disguises.

"Faith, my bullies, you deserve success if you operate on such nights as this. An honest living were easier come by, but Lard! not so enticing by a deal. Your enterprise is worthy of commendation, and I would wager a pony against a pinch of snuff that some day you'll be raised to a high position by reason of it. How is it the old catch runs?