"Stand back, Sergeant," quoth John Stich, defiantly. "I have the honour to protect her ladyship's person against any outrage from you."

"Good words, smith," retorted the Sergeant, "but I tell ye I've been tricked twice by you and I mean to know the reason why. Let her ladyship allow me to search the room upstairs and I'll not lay hands on her."

"Ye shall not pa.s.s," repeated the smith, obstinately.

"The letters," whispered Sir Humphrey, "give me the letters and I pledge you my honour that I can save him yet."

But half mad with terror and misery, scornful, defiant, she turned on him.

"Your honour!" she said, with infinite contempt.

But in her inmost heart she murmured in agonised despair,-

"What's to be done? Oh, G.o.d, protect him!"

"Stand back, John Stich," repeated the Sergeant, for the third time, "or I give my men the order to charge. Now then, my men!"

"Ye shall not pa.s.s!" was the smith's persistent, obstinate answer to the challenge.

"Forward!" shouted the soldier in a loud voice. "Into it, my men! Use your bayonets if anyone interferes with ye!"

The soldiers, nothing loth, were ready for the attack: there had already been too much parleying to suit their taste. They had been baffled too often in the last few days to be in the mood to dally with a woman, be she her ladyship or no.

With a loud cry they made a dash for the stairway, which behind Stich and Lady Patience lost itself in the gloom above.

And it was from out this darkness that at this moment a light-hearted, fresh young voice struck upon the astonished ears of all those present.

"Nay! too much zeal, friend Stich. Stand aside, I pray you. Faith!

it'll give me great pleasure to converse with these gallant lobsters."

And Jack Bathurst, pushing the bewildered smith gently to one side, came down the stairs with a smile upon his face, calm, debonnair, dressed as for a feast.

He had discarded Jock Miggs's long smock, broad-brimmed hat and kerchief, and appeared in all the gorgeous finery of the beautiful lavender-scented clothes, he had donned at the forge with the kindly aid of Mistress Stich. He was still very pale and there were a few lines of weariness and of bodily pain round the firm, sensitive mouth, but his grey eyes, deep-sunk and magnetic, glowed with the keen fire of intense excitement. The coat of fine blue cloth set off his tall, trim figure to perfection. His left hand was tucked into the opening of his exquisitely embroidered waistcoat, and dainty ruffles of delicate Mechlin lace adorned his neckcloth and wrists. As he appeared there, handsome, foppish and smiling, 'twas no wonder that the countryside had nicknamed him Beau Brocade.

"Well! my gallant friend!" he said, addressing the Sergeant, since the latter seemed too astonished to speak, "what is it you want with me, eh?"

The Sergeant was gradually recovering his breath. Fate apparently was playing into his hands. It was almost too bewildering for any bluff soldier to realise, but it certainly seemed pretty clear that the rebel Earl of Stretton and Beau Brocade the highwayman were one and the same person.

"You are Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton?" he asked at last.

"Faith! you've guessed that, have you?" responded Bathurst, gaily.

"Odd's life, 'tis marvellous how much penetration lies hidden beneath that becoming coat of yours."

"Then, Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, you are attainted by Parliament for high treason, and I arrest you in the name of the King!"

There were indeed many conflicting emotions raging in the hearts of all those present whilst this brief colloquy was going on.

John Stich, accustomed to implicit obedience where his Captain's actions were concerned, had not dared to speak or stir. Sir Humphrey Challoner, completely thrown off his mental balance by the unexpected appearance of Bathurst, was hastily trying to make up his bewildered mind as to what was now best to be done.

As to Patience herself, at first a great, an overwhelming joy and pride had seized her at the thought that he was near her now, that he had not deserted her in the hour of her greatest need, that once again he had interposed his magnetic, powerful personality between her and the danger which threatened her and Philip.

It was only when the Sergeant's momentous words, "I arrest you in the name of the King!" rang out clearly and decisively above the loud tumult which was beating in her heart, that she became aware of the deadly peril which threatened the man she loved.

True, he had come once more between her and danger, but once again he had done it at risk of his life, and was like at last to lay it down for her.

She had been standing a little to one side, turning, as all had done, toward the elegant, foppish figure in the fine clothes and dainty ruffles of lace, but now she stepped forward with mad, unreasoning impulse, thrusting herself between him and the Sergeant, and trying to shield him behind the folds of her cloak.

"No! no! no! no!" she said excitedly. "Sergeant, 'tis all a mistake! ...

I swear..."

But already Jack Bathurst had bent forward, and had contrived to whisper, unheard by all save her,-

"Hush-sh-your brother ... remember his danger..."

"Your pardon, lady," said the Sergeant, seeing that she paused, irresolute, not knowing what to do in face of this terrible alternative which was confronting her. "Your pardon, lady, but this gentleman is Philip, Earl of Stretton, is he not?"

"For your brother's sake," whispered Bathurst once more.

"No ... yes ... Oh! my G.o.d!" murmured Patience, in the agony of this appalling misery.

Her brother or the man she loved. One or the other betrayed by one word from her, now at this moment, with no time to pray to G.o.d for help or guidance, no chance of giving her own life for both!

"Out on you, friend," said Bathurst, lightly, "do you not see her ladyship is upset. Nay! have no fear, I'll follow you quietly!" he added, seeing that the Sergeant and soldiers were making a motion to surround him, "but you'll grant me leave to say farewell to my sister?"

The Sergeant could not very well refuse. He was at heart a humane man, and now that he was sure of this important capture, he would have done a good deal to ingratiate himself, through little acts of courtesy, with Lady Patience Gascoyne.

However, he had no mind to be tricked again, and in face of an almost immediate execution for high treason, the prisoner seemed extraordinarily self-possessed and cheerful. But for her ladyship's obvious despair and sorrow, the worthy Sergeant might even now have had some misgivings.

As it was, he told off three men to mount the stairs, and to stand on guard at the top of them, in case the prisoner made a dash that way, in the hopes of reaching the roof. The Sergeant still kept an idea in his mind that some supernatural agency was at work in favour of this extraordinary man, who up to now had seemed to bear a charmed life. He had the little narrow pa.s.sage and hall of the inn cleared of the gaping yokels, who went off one by one, scratching their addled polls, wondering what it all meant, and who was Beau Brocade. Was he the Earl of Stretton? was he the highwayman? or some pixie from the Heath with power to change himself at will?

Sir Humphrey Challoner retired within the shadow of the stairway. On the whole he preferred to leave the events to shape their own course.

In one way Fate had befriended him. Whether hanged in his own name or in that of the Earl of Stretton, the highwayman would within the next few hours be safely out of the way, and then it would be easier no doubt to obtain possession of the letters once again.

He too like the Sergeant and soldiers, felt an instinctive dread of supernatural agency in connection with Beau Brocade. In these days there existed still a deeply-rooted belief in witchcraft, and the educated cla.s.ses were not altogether proof against the popular superst.i.tions.

Sir Humphrey had a curious, intense hatred for the man who had so chivalrously championed Lady Patience's cause. His own love for her was so selfish and l.u.s.tful that overpowering jealousy formed its chief characteristic. He was frantically, madly jealous of Jack Bathurst, for with the keen eyes of the scorned suitor, he had noted the look of joy and pride in her face when the young man first appeared on the stairs, and he alone of all those present knew how to interpret her obvious despair, her terrible misery, when brought face to face with the awful alternative of giving up her brother or the man she loved.

Sir Humphrey swore some heavy oaths under his breath at thought of the scorn with which she had rejected him. Womanlike, she had yielded to the blandishments of that thief, and proud Lady Patience Gascoyne had fallen in love with a highwayman!

But now Fate meant to be kind to Sir Humphrey. With that chivalrous c.o.xcomb out of the way, Lady Patience would be once more at his mercy.

Philip was still a fugitive under the ban of attainder, and the letters could be got hold of once again, unless indeed the devil, with an army of witches and evil sprites, came to the a.s.sistance of that rascal Beau Brocade.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

QUITS