The Northern Iron Part 30

"Ye may hang the fresh lamp up yourself," said the girl. "I willna lay a finger on it for ye now."

Rubbing her mouth with her hand, as if to wipe away the kiss forced on her, she shambled down the pa.s.sage, taking the first lamp with her. The sentry heard her shuffle up the stairs again, making a great deal of noise with her clattering shoes. Then he hung the fresh lamp on his hook and stood back again against the door of the cellar.

It was very dull work standing all night in the pa.s.sage, but he was determined to keep awake. Neal Ward had slipped through the fingers of Captain Twinely's men twice. There was not much chance of his escaping this time, but the sentry, for the honour of his corps, and for the sake of the personal ill-will that every member of it bore to the prisoner, was not going to run the smallest risk. Earlier in the night he had amused himself by shouting insults of various kinds through the door of the cellar. Later on he had given the prisoner a vivid and realistic description of the way in which men are hanged, but Neal had made no sign of hearing a word that was said to him, so the occupation grew uninteresting. Now he whistled a few of his favourite airs, speculating on the amount of the fifty pounds reward offered for Neal's capture which would fall to his share, and estimating his chances of taking some of the other United Irishmen for whom the Government had offered substantial sums. Then he began to count the flagstones on the floor of the pa.s.sage. He had done this once or twice before, and had been able to distinguish as many as twenty-five, which brought him more than half way to the staircase, before the light failed him. This time he could only count twenty. Beyond that the floor lay dimly visible, but it was impossible to distinguish one stone from another.

"d.a.m.n it," He growled, "this isn't near as good a lamp as the first."

He counted again, and only reached a total of eighteen slabs of stone.

He glanced down the pa.s.sage, and found that he could not see the end of it. He looked at the lamp. It was burning very low. It occurred to him as an unpleasant possibility that the girl had taken away the wrong lamp--had taken the one with the oil in it and left him the empty one.

He rea.s.sured himself. This lamp was a different shape from that which hung in the pa.s.sage when he first took his post as sentry. He made up his mind that its wick must require to be turned up. Perhaps it had been badly trimmed. The girl who brought it was evidently sleepy; she would be very likely to forget to trim it. He stepped forward to where the lamp hung. He paused, startled by a slight noise at the far end of the pa.s.sage. He listened, but heard nothing more. It was necessary to lift the lamp off the hook before he could trim the wick. He laid his musket on the ground and reached up to it. As he did so he heard swift steps, steps of heavy feet, on the flagged pa.s.sage. They were quite close to him. He looked round and caught a glimpse of Maurice St. Clair in the act of springing on him. He was grappled by strong arms and flung to the ground before he could do anything to defend himself. Maurice, kneeling on him, put the point of a knife to his throat.

"If you speak one word or utter the slightest sound I cut your throat at once."

The unfortunate soldier lay still. Maurice, the knife still p.r.i.c.king the man's throat, crept slowly off him and knelt on the floor. With his left hand he unclasped the soldier's belt.

"Now," he said, "turn over on your face, and put your hands behind you."

The man obeyed, and felt the sharp point of the knife slip slowly round his neck until it rested behind his ear.

"'Remember," said Maurice, "one good cut downwards now and you are a dead man. Put your hands together."

He pulled the leather belt clear with his left hand, then, dropping the knife, he knelt on the man's back and gripped his wrists.

In a moment he had them securely strapped together with the leather belt. Then he stuffed a cloth into the soldier's mouth and bound it there with a stout cord tied tight round his head. Another cord--Maurice had come well supplied with what he was likely to want--was made fast round the man's legs. Then Maurice stood up and surveyed his handiwork.

He laughed softly, well satisfied. The lamp flickered and went out.

"It's a good job for you," said Maurice, "that the light lasted as long as it did. I couldn't have gagged and tied you in the dark. I should have been obliged to kill you."

He felt along the wall until he came to the cellar door and found the keyhole. After much fumbling he got the key in, turned it, and pushed open the door.

"Neal," he called. "Neal, are you there?"

"Yes. Who is that? Is it you, Maurice? It's like your voice."

Stumbling forward through the pitch dark, Neal gripped Maurice at last.

Hand in hand they went cautiously along the pa.s.sage and up the stairs.

"Come in here," said Maurice. "There's a light here, and I want to see if it's really you. Oh! you needn't be afraid. There are plenty of soldiers, but they won't hurt you. They're all dead drunk. Now, Neal, there's lots to eat and drink. Sit down and make the best of your time.

You'll want a square meal. I'll just take a light and go down to that fellow in the pa.s.sage. I've got a few fathom of good, stout rope--I'm not sure that it isn't the bit that they meant to hang you with in the morning--and I'll fix him up so that he'll neither stir nor speak till some one lets him loose."

In a quarter of an hour Maurice returned.

"The next thing, Neal, is to get you out of this town. It's full of soldiers, and there are sentries at every turn, but I've got the word for the night, and I think we'll be able to manage."

He walked round the room peering carefully at the drunken men who lay on the floor.

"'Here's a fellow that's about your size, Neal. He seems to be a captain of some sort, a yeomanry captain by the look of him. I'm hanged if it isn't our friend Twinely again. We'll take the liberty of borrowing his uniform for you. There'll be a poetic justice about that, and he'll sleep all the better for having these tight things off him."

He knelt down and stripped Captain Twinely.

"Now then, quick, Neal. Don't waste time. Daylight will be on us before we know where we are. Take your own things with you in a bundle. Change again somewhere when you get out of the town, you'll be safer travelling in your own clothes. Take some food with you. Here, I'll make up a parcel while you dress. I'll stick in a bottle of wine. Now you're right. Walk boldly past the sentries. If you're challenged curse the man that challenges you. The word for the night is 'Clavering.' Travel by night as much as you can. Keep off the main roads. Strike straight for home. It'll be a queer thing if you can't lie safe round Dunseveric for a few days till we get you out of the country."

CHAPTER XV

Lord Dunseveric and Maurice breakfasted together at eight o'clock on the morning of Neal's escape. They sat in the room where Lord O'Neill lay, and had a table spread for them beside the window. It was impossible to eat a meal in any comfort elsewhere in the inn. Indeed, but for the special exertions of the master and his maid it would have been difficult to get food at all. Maurice was triumphant and excited. Since Neal had not been brought back it was reasonable to suppose that he had made good his escape out of the town, and there was every hope that he would get safe to the coast. Once there he had friends enough to feed him, and hiding-places known to few, and almost inaccessible to soldiers or yeomen.

Lord Dunseveric asked no questions about Maurice's doings in the night.

He felt perfectly confident that Neal had got off somehow. The details of the business he would hear later on. For the present he preferred to know nothing about them.

An officer entered the room and handed a letter to Lord Dunseveric.

It was a request, in civil language enough, that he would meet General Clavering in the public room of the inn at nine o'clock, and that Maurice would accompany his father.

General Clavering sat at the head of the table when Lord Dunseveric and Maurice entered. Three or four of the senior officers of the regular troops sat with him. Captain Twinely, in a suit of clothes he had borrowed from the master of the inn, and one of his men, stood near the fireplace. The room had been cleared of the drunken sleepers, but a good deal of the _debris_ of their revel--empty bottles, broken gla.s.ses, and little pools of spilt wine--were still visible on the floor.

"I have to announce to you, Lord Dunseveric," said the general, "that the prisoner who was confined in the inn cellar last night, Neal Ward, has escaped."

Lord Dunseveric bowed, and smiled slightly. His eye lighted on Captain Twinely, and his smile broadened. The landlord's suit fitted the captain extremely ill.

"Indeed," he said, "Captain Twinely seems to be unfortunate with regard to this particular prisoner. This is, let me see, the third time that Neal Ward has--ah!--evaded his vigilance."

"The sentry who guarded the door of the cellar," said General Clavering, "was attacked, overpowered, bound, and gagged."

"By the prisoner?"

"No, my lord, by some one who a.s.sisted the prisoner to escape, who, after dealing with the sentry as I have described, unlocked the door of the cellar with a key, the duplicate of that which Captain Twinely had in his pocket. This man and the prisoner subsequently stripped Captain Twinely of his uniform, and, as I learn from my sentries, Neal Ward pa.s.sed through our lines in the disguise of a captain of yeomanry."

"You surprise me," said Lord Dunseveric, "a daring stratagem; a laughable scheme, too. I trust you took no cold, Captain. I confess that I should have liked to have seen you in your s.h.i.+rt tails this morning.

You were, I presume," he stirred a little heap of broken gla.s.s with his foot as he spoke, "_vino gravatus_ when they relieved you of your tunic.

But what has all this to do with me?"

"Merely this," said General Clavering, "that your son is accused of having effected the prisoner's escape."

Lord Dunseveric looked at Maurice, looked him quietly up and down, as if he saw him then for the first time.

"I can believe," he said, "that my son might overpower the sentry. He is, as you see, a young man of considerable personal strength, but I should be surprised to learn that he dressed the prisoner in the captain's uniform. I may be misjudging my son, but I have hitherto regarded him as somewhat deficient in humour. You must admit, General Clavering, that only a man with a feeling for the ridiculous would have thought of----"

"It will be better for you to hear what the sentry has to say, my lord, and I beg of you to regard the matter seriously. I a.s.sure you it will not bear joking on. The rescue of a prisoner is a grave offence. Captain Twinely, kindly order your man to tell his story."

"Since I am not a prisoner at the bar," said Lord Dunseveric, "I shall, with your permission, sit down. As to the seriousness of the business in hand, I confess that for the moment the thought of the worthy Twinely waking this morning not only with a splitting headache but without a pair of breeches on him keeps the humorous side of the situation prominent in my mind."

The sentry told his story. To Maurice's great relief, he omitted all mention of the girl who had supplied the lamp which so conveniently burnt low, but he had recognised Maurice and was prepared to swear to his ident.i.ty.

"No doubt," said General Clavering, "you will wish to cross-question this man, my lord."

Lord Dunseveric yawned.