The Gentleman: A Romance of the Sea - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Forgive me for disturbing you so early," called the gay voice. "The Reverend Father was at his devotions doubtless!"
"No, sir," retorted the Parson. "The Reverend Father was watching the Horse, Foot, and Artillery, pelting down the hill on top o you."
"I've been watching em too," replied the other. "And sorry I am I shan't be here to entertain em--I've a soft place for the soldiers myself. But I'm just off for a day on the water. A pretty morning!"
"Yes; as pretty a morning to hang a play-actor on as ever I saw."
The other waved a hand.
"Ah, but I'm not going to hang you, dear Padre. I have other views for you."
He was fascinating, but somehow he was fearful too. He was the python: they were the rabbits. He had power: and that power was none the less terrible because it was mysterious.
The Parson leaned out, bold and bluffing.
"I take you. The game's up. And you've come to surrender, eh?"
The other shook his head.
"No. I just stepped across to say good-bye, and see if I couldn't perhaps persuade you to come with me."
"No, sir, thank you all the same. I'm a land-animal myself. Besides I'm too cosy here."
The other stood silent a full minute, nodding a slow head.
"Alas, poor ghost!" he said at length half to himself, and made as though to turn.
The Parson was staggered.
Had he no card then? was he merely bluffing?
"What's it mean?" he whispered fiercely to Kit.
"It means he's going--and Nelson's last chance with him!" panted the boy. "O, _make_ him stay!"
The Parson leaned out again.
"I hope you'll come back to see your friends hung, my lord!" he bawled.
The Gentleman turned again.
"Friends?"
"Well, aren't they your friends?--Lord Alfiriston, Sir Harry Dene, and the rest. I gathered they were from the despatch-bag you're so good as to leave in my hands."
"I'm leaving no despatch-bag in your hands."
The Parson jumped round.
What did the fellow mean? Had he somehow?...
No, there it was on the staple, the tarpaulin bag stamped with the Imperial Eagle.
He took it down.
"This is the boy I meant. Won't you leave this with us?"
The Gentleman shook his head.
"What you going to do with it?" mockingly.
"What I'm going to do with you."
Man and boy, hugging close in the window, each felt the other tauten.
"What's that?"
The other rolled his eyes heavenward.
The Parson was breathing through his nose.
"What ye mean?"
A tiny smile broke about the Gentleman's lips. He raised a finger, and drew nearer on his toes, stealthy as a child about to reveal a secret to its mother; and there was a horror about him.
"_Hush, and I'll whisper you!_"
The horror grew upon the man. The Parson s.h.i.+vered.
The very air was listening.
"_Powder-mine._"
"_A what?_"
"_A powder-mine._"
The laughter bubbled up in his eyes, and rippled about his face. He was a child, a cruel child, who springs a carefully-prepared surprise on a comrade, and dwells wantonly on the effect.
"Not vairy nice, is it?" he bantered. "I _do_ feel for you."
He stood beneath the window, hands clasped before him, chin down, the little maiden, demure yet malicious: the little maiden and yet--the Devil.
"So sorray. But I do not want those despatches to fall into the hands of bad men. You forgive?" winningly.
The Parson drew a great breath. It was so sudden, so aweful, so utter.
It was Piper who broke the silence from below.
