"I'm not afraid, Levi," said Foster quietly. "I'm ready to go with you."

Nothing more was said by either of them till they had followed out the footpath and stood before the gateway of the old Hall. They were soon making their way cautiously amongst the fallen blocks of stone towards a turret which rose to a considerable height at the end of the ruins farthest from the gateway. "Go forward, William," said Sharples, "while I light my lantern." So saying, he paused to strike a match, while his companion threaded his way towards the turret. At this moment a figure, un.o.bserved by Foster, emerged from behind a low wall, and, having exchanged a few whispered words with Levi, disappeared through an archway.

The two companions, having now gained the turret, proceeded to descend a few broken steps concealed from ordinary observation by a ma.s.s of brushwood, and reached the entrance of a s.p.a.cious vault. "Stay a moment," said Sharples; "I'll go first and show a light." So saying, he pushed past the other, and the next instant Foster felt himself held fast by each arm, while a handkerchief was pressed over his mouth. He was at once painfully conscious that he had been completely entrapped, and that resistance was perfectly useless, for two strong men grasped him, one on either side. But his presence of mind did not desert him, and he now had learnt where to look, in secret prayer, for that "very present help in trouble" which never fails those who seek it aright.

Thus fortified, he attempted no resistance, but patiently awaited the event.

In a few minutes the handkerchief was withdrawn from his eyes, and he found himself in the presence of about a dozen men, all of whose faces were blackened. On a large stone in the centre of the vault was placed the bull's-eye lantern which his companion had recently lighted, and which, by pouring its light fully on himself, prevented him from clearly seeing the movements of his captors. What was to come next? He was not long left in doubt.

"Saint Foster," said Levi Sharples, who stood just behind the lantern, and spoke in a sneering, snuffling voice, "we don't wish you any harm; but we have brought your saintship before our right worshipful court, that you may answer to the charge brought against you, of having deserted your old principles and companions, and inflicted much inconvenience and discredit on the cause of free-thought and good fellowship in Crossbourne. What say you to this charge, Saint Foster?"

Their poor victim had by this time thoroughly recovered his self- possession, and being now set at liberty--for his enemies knew that he could not escape them--answered quietly, and in a clear, unfaltering voice, "I must ask first by what authority this court is const.i.tuted; and by whose authority you are now questioning me?"

"By the authority of 'might,' which on the present occasion makes 'right,' Saint Foster," was the reply.

"Be it so," said Foster. "I can only reply that I have been following out my own honest convictions in the course I have lately taken. What right has any man to object to this?"

"A good deal of right, Saint Foster, since your following out your present honest convictions is a great hindrance to those who used to agree with you in your former honest convictions."

"I am not responsible for that," was Foster's reply.

"Perhaps not," continued Sharples; "nevertheless, we are met on the present agreeable occasion to see if we cannot induce you to give up those present honest convictions of yours, and join your old friends again."

"That I neither can nor will," said the other in a firm voice.

"That's a pity," said Sharples; "because if you persist in your determination, the consequences to yourself may be unpleasant. However, the court wishes to deal very leniently with you, in consideration of past services, and therefore I am commissioned to offer you a choice between two things.--Officer! Bring forward the 'peacemaker.'"

Upon this, a man stepped forward, uncorked a bottle of spirits, and placed it on the stone in front of the lantern.

"Saint Foster," proceeded his pretended judge, "we earnestly exhort you to lift this bottle of spirits to your lips, and, having taken a hearty swig thereof, to say after me, 'Long life and prosperity to free-thought and good fellowship.' If you will do this we shall be fully satisfied, and shall all part good friends."

"And if I refuse?" asked the other.

"Oh! There'll be no compulsion--we are not going to force you to drink.

This is 'Liberty Hall;' only, you must submit to the alternative."

"And what may that be?"

"Oh! Just to carry home with you a little of our ointment, as a token of our kind regards.--Officer! Bring forward the ointment."

A general gruff t.i.tter ran round the vault as one of the men placed beside the bottle a jar with a brush in it and a bag.

"My worthy friend," proceeded the former speaker, "that jar is full of ointment, vulgarly called tar, and that little bag contains feathers.

Now, if you positively refuse to drink the toast I have just named in spirits, we shall be constrained to anoint you all over from head to foot with our ointment, and then to sprinkle you with the feathers; in so doing, we shall be affording an amusing spectacle to the inhabitants of Crossbourne, and shall be doing yourself a real kindness, by furnishing you with abundant means of 'feathering your own nest.'"

A roar of discordant laughter followed this speech. Then there was a pause, and a deathlike silence, while all waited for Foster's answer.

For a few moments he attempted no reply; then he said, slowly and sadly: "I know it will be of no use for me to say what I think of the utter baseness of the man who has enticed me here, and now acts the part of my judge. You have me in your power, and must work your will on me, for I will never consent to drink the toast proposed to me. But I warn you that--"

At this moment a shrill whistle was heard by every one in the vault, and then the sound of shouts outside, and the tramping of feet.--"The game's up!" cried one of the men with the blackened faces; "every one for himself!" and a rush was made for the steps. But it was too late: a strong guard of police fully armed had taken their stand at the top of the stair, and escape was impossible, for there was no other outlet from the vault. As each man emerged he was seized and handcuffed--all except Foster, whose unblackened face told at once that he was not one of the guilty party, and who was grasped warmly by the hand by Thomas Bradly and James Barnes, who now came forward.

When the vault had been searched by the constables, and they had ascertained that no one was still secreted there, the whole of the prisoners were marched into the open court and placed in a row. The sergeant, who had come with his men, then pa.s.sed his lantern from face to face. There was no mistake about Sharples; his false hair and beard had become disarranged in the scuffle, and other marks of identification were immediately observed. "Levi Sharples," said the sergeant, "you're our prisoner--we've been looking out for you for a long time; you'll have to come with us.--As for the rest of you, well, I think you won't any of you forget this night; so you'd best get home as fast as you can and wash your faces.--Constables, take the handcuffs off 'em."

No sooner was this done than the whole body of the conspirators vanished in a moment, while the police proceeded to carry off their prisoner.

But before the officers were clear of the ruins, a strange moaning sound startled all who remained behind. "Eh! What's that? Surely it ain't-- a--a--" exclaimed Jim Barnes, in great terror. The sergeant, who was just leaving with his men, turned back. All stood silent, and then there was distinctly heard again a deep groaning, as of one in pain.

"Lend a light here, Thomas," cried the sergeant to one of his constables. All, except those who were guarding the prisoner, proceeded in the direction from which the unearthly sounds came. "Have a care,"

cried Bradly; "there's some ugly holes hereabouts." Picking their way carefully, they came at last to the mouth of an old well: it had been long choked up to within a few feet of the top, but still it was an awkward place to fall into.

There could now be no mistake; the groaning came from the old well, and it was a human cry of distress. "Who's there?" cried the sergeant, throwing his light down upon a writhing figure. "It's me--it's Ned Taylor. Lord help me! I've done for myself. Oh, help me out for pity's sake!" With great difficulty, and with terrible suffering to the poor wretch himself, they contrived at last to draw him up, and to place him with his back against a heap of fallen masonry.

"What's to be done now?" asked the sergeant. "Leave him to us," replied Bradly; "we'll get him home. I see how it is: he's one of these chaps as has been taking part in this sad business, and in his hurry to get off he has tumbled into this old well and injured himself. We'll look after him, poor fellow; he shall be properly cared for. Good-night, sergeant, and thank you for your timely help."

When the police had departed with their prisoner, Bradly went to the wounded man and asked him if he thought he could walk home with help; but the only reply was a groan. "He's badly hurt, I can see," said Thomas; "we must make a stretcher out of any suitable stuff we can find, and carry him home between us. The Lord's been very gracious to us so far in this business, and I don't doubt but he'll bring good out of this evil." So they made a litter of boughs and stray pieces of plank, and set out across the fields for Crossbourne.

"Stay a bit, Jim," whispered Bradly to James Barnes; "lend me your lantern. Go forward now, and I'll join you in a minute." He was soon back again, having brought the jar of tar from the vault, about which and its purpose he had heard from Foster while the police were searching the place. "I must keep this," he said, "in my Surgery; it'll do capitally to give an edge to a lesson." And it may be here said that the jar was in due time placed on a bracket in Bradly's private room, and labelled in large red letters, "Drunkards' Ointment,"--giving Thomas many an opportunity of speaking a forcible word against evil companionship to those who sought his help and counsel.

But to return to the party at the old Hall. Long and weary seemed that walk home, specially to the wounded man. At last they reached the town, and carried the sufferer to his miserable dwelling, with cheery words to his poor wife, and a promise from Bradly to send the doctor at once, and that he would call himself next day and see how he was going on.

Then the three friends hastened at once to Foster's house, that they might be the first to acquaint his wife with her husband's peril and deliverance. Never was thanksgiving prayer uttered or joined in with more fervour than that which was offered by Thomas Bradly after he had given to Kate Foster a full account of the evening's adventure. Then all sat down to a simple supper, at which Foster was asked by Thomas Bradly to tell him how he came to be taken in by such a man as Levi Sharples.

"I don't wonder," began Foster, "that you should think it weak and strange in me; but you shall judge. Levi Sharples and myself used to be great friends--or rather, perhaps, I ought to say frequent companions, for I don't think there was ever anything worth calling friendship between us. He used to profess a great respect for my opinion. He regularly attended the meetings of our club, and made smart speeches, and would come out with the vilest sentiments expressed in the vilest and foulest language, such as disgusted me even then, and makes me shudder now when I think of it. He had a ready way with him, and could trip a man up in an argument and get the laugh against him. Not that he had really read or studied much; but he had gathered a smattering on many subjects, and knew how to make a little knowledge go a great way.

Most of the other members of the club were afraid of him, for he had no mercy when he chose to come down on a fellow; and if any one tried to make a stand against him for a bit, he would soon talk him down with his biting sarcasms and loud sneering voice.

"I told you that he professed to have a high opinion of myself as a debater and free-thinker. He seldom crossed me in argument, and when he did he was sure to give in in the end. I was vain enough at the time to set this down to my own superior wit and knowledge; but I am now fully persuaded that he was only pretending to have this good opinion of me that he might make use of me for his own purposes. He knew that I was a skilful workman, and earned more than average wages, and so he would often borrow a few shillings from me, which he never remembered to pay back again. But he managed to get these loans very dexterously, always mixing up a little flattery when he came to borrow.

"Often and often, I'm ashamed to say, I have wandered out with him and other members of our club in the summer, on Sunday afternoons, to Cricketty Hall; and there, down in the old vault, we have been playing cards and drinking till it was time to return. I could see plainly enough on these occasions that Levi would have been only too glad to win largely from me; but I had sense enough to keep out of his clutches, as I had noticed him managing the cards unfairly when playing with others.

"I can't say that I felt any particular regret when he had to take himself off out of the neighbourhood. There were no ties that could really bind us together; for, indeed, how can there be any real union where the closest bond is a common hatred of that gospel which is so truly, as I am thankful to say I have myself found it, the religion of love? I scarcely missed him, and seldom thought of him, and was rather startled when, a few days ago, he made himself known to me in the twilight.

"We were alone, and I was going to pa.s.s on with a civil word; but he begged me to stop, and in such a tone of voice as rather touched me. He then reminded me that we had been companions in evil, and said that he had heard of the change that had taken place in me. He added that he was very unhappy, that he hated himself for his past wicked life, and that as I used to stand his friend formerly when he needed a helping hand, he hoped I would show that my change was a real one by my willingness to give an old mate a lift over the stile and into the same way of peace in which I professed to be walking myself. He had much to tell me and ask of me, he said; but he was afraid of being discovered by the police, spite of his disguise. Would I meet him at Cricketty Hall, he should feel safe there.

"I did not know what to say. I could not get rid of my suspicions, notwithstanding his changed tone and manner. He saw it, and said: 'You doubt my sincerity. Well, I suppose you'll agree that when a man's sincerity gets into his pocket it's pretty sure to be genuine. Now, you've lent me money at different times, and I never paid any of it back. I've reckoned it up, and it comes altogether to three pounds ten shillings. Here it is; and many thanks to you for lending it me. I'm only sorry that I was not an honest man before.'

"I hardly knew what to say; however, I took the money, for I knew that it was due to me. 'Well, will you trust me now?' he asked. 'Meet me, Levi, to-morrow night just after dark outside my house,' I said, 'and I will tell you then.' He hesitated a little, and then said, 'Very well,'

and left me. I was sorely puzzled, and could not tell what to think.

And then at last it occurred to me that perhaps it was wrong in me to hang back. There _might_ be a real change beginning even in such a man as Levi Sharples. The Lord had been merciful to me, and why not to him?

There hadn't been much to choose between us in badness in bygone days; and should I be right in repelling the poor man if I could be in any way the means of bringing him into the narrow way? Well, you know the rest.

We met the next night; and, mercifully for me, Jim Barnes, as I find from him, overheard the appointment to meet at Cricketty Hall; and wonderfully and graciously has the Lord kept me _in_ my trouble, and delivered me out of it."

"But how do you suppose that Sharples got hold of that money?" asked Bradly.

"Oh," replied the other, "I can easily understand all about that. You may depend upon it the whole matter has gone on somewhat in this way:-- My old mates have been scheming how to be revenged on me ever since I left them, and showed my colours on the side of Temperance and Religion.

They've known Levi's whereabouts, and were aware how thick we used to be; so they've set him upon drawing me into the snare. I don't doubt that they subscribed that three pound ten between them, that Levi might be able to throw dust in my eyes with it, and throw me off my guard."

"Just so, just so; I see it all!" cried Bradly. "Eh! Haven't they been nicely outwitted? Why, they've lost their money, they've lost the bird out of the cage, and they've clapped their own man in prison. Mark my words, William, we shan't have much more trouble from them for many a long day; but if they attempt to give us any, I shall bring them out the little jar of ointment they left behind them, and bid them tell us what complaints it's good for. Ah! Well, there's just a few words out of the good old book as'll crown it all. Here they are in the Twenty- seventh Psalm: 'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.'"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.