DENOUNCED 

 
 Hppletons' 
 
 TTown an& Country 
 
 Xibrarp 
 
 No. 200 
 
 DENOUNCED
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 A ROMANCE. i2mo. Paper, 50 
 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "We do not hesitate to declare that Mr. Bloun- 
 delle-Burton's new romance will be very hard to 
 beat in its own particular line. In his previous 
 works Mr. Burton gave evidence which entitled him 
 to a very prominent place among the writers of his 
 class ; and now, at another bound, he has leaped 
 into the foremost rank. If he only keeps up to the 
 level of ' In the Day of Adversity,' he must continue 
 to rank as one of the most interesting and popular 
 writers of the day. . . . Mr. Burton's creative skill 
 is of the kind which must fascinate those who revel 
 in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and 
 Stanley Weyman. Even the author of ' A Gentle- 
 man of France' has not surpassed the writer of 
 1 In the Day of Adversity ' in the moving interest 
 of his tale." St. James's Gazette. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & Co., 72 Fifth Avenue.
 
 DENOUNCED 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY, THE HISPANIOLA PLATE, ETC. 
 
 " The adder lies i' the corbie's nest." 
 
 JACOBITE BALLAD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1896
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I. A HOME COMING I 
 
 II. A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE .... 12 
 
 III. A WOMAN'S LETTER . . . . . .21 
 
 IV. THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES .... 32 
 
 V. MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN .... 39 
 
 VI. KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT .... 53 
 
 VII. " THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON " . 63 
 
 VIII. "FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE" . 75 
 
 IX. DENOUNCED 86 
 
 X. HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME .... 99 
 
 XI. ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE no 
 
 XII. HEY ! FOR FRANCE 122 
 
 XIII. MAN AND WIFE 131 
 
 XIV. FLIGHT ......... 143 
 
 XV. UNITED . . . ' ~~. 155 
 
 XVI. "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST" . . . 169 
 
 XVII. GASCONISM 179 
 
 XVIII. "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" . . . 192 
 XIX. "WHICH WAY i FLY is HELL MYSELF AM 
 
 HELL!" . 203 
 
 XX. AVENGED 213 
 
 XXI. THE BASTILLE 227 
 
 XXII. DESPAIR ! 242 
 
 XXIII. AT LAST 253 
 
 XXIV. BROKEN HEARTS 265 
 
 v
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXV. " HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST MINUTE MOUNTED " 277 
 
 XXVI. KATE LEARNS SHE is FREE 288 
 
 XXVII. AFAR OFF STILL 300 
 
 XXVIII. "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE" . . 31! 
 
 XXIX. FREE 322 
 
 XXX. THE MARQUIS GOES HOME 335 
 
 XXXI. "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME" .... 347 
 
 XXXII. " LOVE STRONG AS DEATH!" .... 359 
 
 APPENDIX 364
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A HOME COMING. 
 
 IT was a wild and stormy sea through which the 
 bluff-bowed Galliot laboured, as, tossed first from one 
 wave to another, she, with the best part of her gear 
 stowed away and no sail on her but a close-reefed main- 
 topsail and a spanker, endeavoured to make her way 
 towards the Suffolk coast. On the poop, the captain 
 a young man of not more than thirty hurled orders 
 and oaths indiscriminately at his crew, every man of 
 which was a good deal older than himself, while the 
 crew themselves worked hard at hauling up the brails, 
 going out on the gaff to pass the gaskets, and stowing 
 the mainsail-yard. But still she laboured and rolled 
 and yawed, her forefoot pointing at one moment al- 
 most to the Dutch coast and at another to the Eng- 
 lish she had left Calais thirty hours before, intending 
 to fetch Dover, and had been blown thus far out of 
 her course and it seemed as though she would never 
 get any nearer to the land she wished to reach. And, 
 to make matters worse, lying some distance off on her 
 starboard beam though too far to be distinguished 
 through the haze in the air and the spume of the
 
 2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 waves was a large vessel about which those on board 
 could not decide as to whether she was one of King 
 George's sloops or a privateer. The young captain 
 trusted it was the first, since he had no quarrel with 
 either his Majesty or his navy, and had no men who 
 could be pressed, while the passengers in the cabin 
 but this you shall read. 
 
 In that cabin there sat four persons, three men 
 and a woman the last of whom shall be first de- 
 scribed. A woman young of not more than twenty- 
 four years of age fair and well-favoured, her wheat- 
 coloured hair brought back in a knot behind her head, 
 above which, as was still the custom of the time for 
 ladies when travelling, she wore a three-cornered hat. 
 Wrapped in a long, collarless coat, square cut and pos- 
 sessing no pockets also the custom of the time it 
 was still easy to perceive that, underneath, was a sup- 
 ple, graceful figure, and, when as was occasionally 
 the case this long coat was thrown open so that the 
 wearer might get a little relief from the stuffiness of 
 the cabin, the beauty of that figure might plainly be 
 perceived beneath the full scarlet waistcoat embroid- 
 ered with gold lace, which, by its plenitude of pockets, 
 atoned for the absence of any in the coat. Her face 
 was, as has been said, a well-favoured one, oval, and 
 possessing large blue eyes and delicate, thin lips, and 
 with upon it even here, on this tossing sea, a fair rose 
 and milk complexion, while in those large eyes the ob- 
 server might have well imagined he saw a look of un- 
 happiness. Also, too, a look of contempt whenever 
 they rested on the man who, as she leant an elbow on 
 one side of the table between them, leant one of his on 
 the other. 
 
 They rested on him now with much that look as,
 
 A HOME COMING. 3 
 
 pushing over to her a glass of burnt wine which the 
 cabin-boy has just brought in at his orders, as well 
 as some ratafia biscuits, he said : 
 
 " I would counsel you, my lady, to partake of a 
 little more refreshment. I have spoken with the mas- 
 ter outside who says that by no chance can we make 
 Harwich ere nightfall. Your ladyship, excellent sailor 
 as you are, must have a care to your health." 
 
 " My health," she replied, " needs no care, either 
 from myself or you. And when I am athirst I will 
 drink, as when I am hungry I will eat. You had best 
 offer your refreshments to our fellow-passengers." 
 
 The man to whom she spake was but two or three 
 years older than herself and was her husband, Simeon 
 Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge. He, too, was well 
 dressed in the travelling costume of the day, wearing 
 a black frock with a gold button, a black waistcoat 
 trimmed with gold, black velvet breeches, and a gold- 
 laced three-cornered hat, while on the table lay a sil- 
 ver-hilted hanger that slid about with every motion 
 of the vessel. In looks he was her equal, being, how- 
 ever, as dark as she was fair, but of well-cut, even 
 features and of a clear complexion. He wore, too, his 
 natural hair, cropped somewhat short as though a wig 
 might in other circumstances be easily assumed, but 
 the absence of this article of dress in no way detracted 
 from his appearance. 
 
 As her ladyship spoke he darted one swift glance 
 at her from under his eyelids a glance that seemed 
 to embody in it a full return of all the coldness and 
 contempt with which she had addressed him; and 
 then, acting on her suggestion, he turned to the two 
 other inhabitants of the cabin and said : 
 
 " Come, Father Sholto, and you, Fane, come and
 
 4 DENOUNCED. 
 
 take a sup of the liquor. 'Twill do you both good. 
 Come and drink." 
 
 "Ah, the drink, the drink," exclaimed the latter, 
 " well, give me a sup. Maybe 'twill appease a qualm. 
 Kitty, me child," turning to Lady Fordingbridge, " why 
 do ye not do as your husband asks ? Tis a good 
 stomachic by the powers ! how the barky rolls." 
 
 " I want nothing," her ladyship replied, lifting "her 
 eyes to him with almost as contemptuous a glance as 
 when she had previously raised them to her husband, 
 and then relapsing again into silence. 
 
 " I, too," said the other man, who had been ad- 
 dressed as " Father Sholto," " will take a sup, she does 
 roll badly. Yet, my lord," he said, as he poured some 
 out into a mug that stood by the liquor, " let me per- 
 suade you to be more guarded in your expressions. 
 To forget, indeed," he went on, while his cold grey 
 eyes were fixed on the other, " that there is such a per- 
 son as ' Father Sholto ' in existence for the present ; 
 that such a well-known ecclesiastic is travelling in 
 your Lordship's esteemed company. For," he con- 
 tinued, after swallowing the liquor at a gulp, " I do as- 
 sure you Fane, see that the door of the cabin is fast ! 
 and that none of the crew are about ! you could not 
 make your entry into your own country, could not re- 
 turn to make your peace with King George, the Elector 
 of Hanover with a worse companion in your train 
 than the man who is known as ' Father Sholto.' 
 Therefore " 
 
 "Therefore," interrupted Lord Fordingbridge im- 
 patiently, " I will not forget again, Mr. Archibald. 
 Enough ! " 
 
 " Therefore," continued the other, as though no in- 
 terruption had occurred, still in the cold, low voice
 
 A HOME COMING. 
 
 5 
 
 and still with the cold grey eyes fixed on his lordship, 
 " it is best you do not forget, at least, at present. 
 Later, if your memory fails you I have known it 
 treacherous ere now it will be of little importance. 
 Charles Edward, the Prince of Wales, is at Edinburgh, 
 soon he will be at St. James' ; but until he is, remem- 
 ber what we are. You are the Viscount Fording- 
 bridge, but lately succeeded to your father's title, and 
 a convert from his Jacobitism to Hanoverian princi- 
 ples; her ladyship here, who is ever to be depended 
 upon, follows your estimable political principles; her 
 respected father, Mr. Doyle Fane, has, he avers, no 
 politics at all ; and I am Mr. Archibald, a Scotch mer- 
 chant. You will remember ?" 
 
 "Peste! Yes. I will remember. Tutor me no 
 more. Now, Fane, the sea abates somewhat go and 
 discover if we are near the English coast. And, Mr. 
 Archibald, I have a word to say to my lady here, with 
 your permission. As I am at the expense of this pas- 
 sage, may I ask for a moment's privacy with her? 
 Doubtless the air on the deck will refresh you both." 
 
 "Precisely," replied the other. "We will not in- 
 trude unless it grows again so rough that we cannot 
 remain on deck. Come, Fane." 
 
 When both had left the cabin Lord Fordingbridge 
 turned to his wife who still sat, as she had done from 
 the beginning of Mr. Archibald's remarks, indifferent 
 and motionless as though in no way interested in what 
 had passed, and exclaimed : 
 
 " You hear, madam, the circumstances in which I 
 return to my own. 'Tis not too agreeable, I protest. 
 We are Roman Catholics, yet we come as Protestants, 
 Jacobites, yet under the garb and mask of Hanoveri- 
 ans. And in our train a Jesuit priest, arch-plotter,
 
 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 and schemer, who passes as a respectable Scotch mer- 
 chant. A sorry home coming, indeed ! " 
 
 " If such duplicity is painful to your lordship's 
 mind," his wife remarked, " 'twould almost have been 
 best to have remained in exile. Then you would have 
 been safe, at least, and have done no outrage to your 
 conscience. And, later, when those who are fighting 
 for Prince Charles have re-established him upon his 
 grandfather's throne if they ever do ! you could 
 have declared yourself without fear of consequences." 
 
 No word, nor tone of her sneer was lost upon 
 Lord Fordingbridge, and he turned savagely upon 
 her. 
 
 "Have a care, my lady," he exclaimed, "have a 
 care. There are ways in my power you little dream 
 of by which if your defiance " 
 
 " Defiance ! " exclaimed her ladyship. " Defiance ! 
 You dare to use that term to me. You ! " 
 
 "Ay! Defiance. What! Shall the daughter of 
 Doyle Fane, the broken-down Irish adventurer, the 
 master of the fence school in the Rue Trousse Vache, 
 flout and gibe me the man who took her from a gar- 
 ret and made her a lady a peeress. I I " 
 
 "Yes!" she replied. "You! You who have 
 earned for ever her undying hatred by doing so; by 
 making her a lady by lies, by intriguing, by duplicity. 
 A lady ! Yet your wife ! Had you left me in the Rue 
 Trousse Vache in the garret over the fence school 
 whose wife should I have been now ? Answer that, 
 Simeon Larpent, answer that." 
 
 " The wife of a man," he said, quietly and calm 
 again in a moment, for he had the power to allay the 
 tempestuous gusts that overtook him occasionally 
 almost as quickly as they arose, " who, if the fates
 
 A HOME COMING. 7 
 
 are not more propitious than I deem they will be, 
 rides at the present moment to his doom, to a halter 
 that awaits him. A man who rides on a fruitless jour- 
 ney to England as volunteer with his cousin Balme- 
 rino in the train of Charles Edward ; a man " 
 
 " Whom," she interrupted again, " I loved with my 
 whole heart and soul ; whom I loved from the first, 
 hour my eyes ever gazed on him. A man whom you 
 separated me from with your Jesuitical lies they did 
 well to educate you at Lisbon and St. Omer a man 
 who, if God is just, as I do believe, shall yet live to 
 take a desperate vengeance on you. And for the rea- 
 son that he may do so, I pray night and day that 
 Charles Edward will fight his way to London. Then 
 you must meet unless you flee back to France again 
 then, Lord Fordingbridge, you must stand face to 
 face with him at last. Then " 
 
 " Then you trust to be a widow. Is it not so, my 
 lady ? You will be free then, and Bertie Elphinston 
 may have the bride I stole from him. Is that your 
 devout aspiration?" 
 
 "Alas, no ! " she replied. " Or, if it is, it can never 
 come to pass. If Bertie Elphinston saw me now he 
 would shrink from me. He would not touch my hand. 
 He would pass across the street to avoid me." 
 
 As she uttered the last words there came from 
 over the swirling, troubled sea the boom of a cannon, 
 accompanied a moment afterwards by harsh cries and 
 orders from the deck of the Galliot, and by the rat- 
 tling of cordage and a sudden cessation of the slight 
 way that was still on the vessel. 
 
 " What does that gun mean ? " asked Lord Fording- 
 bridge as he started to his feet, while Fane and Mr. 
 Archibald re-entered the cabin hastily.
 
 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " It means," said the disguised Jesuit, who spoke 
 as coolly and calmly as ever, " that the vessel which 
 has been following us since dawn is King George's 
 he forgot on this occasion to term the English king 
 ' the Elector of Hanover ' Bomb-ketch the ' Furnace.' 
 She has fired the gun to bring us to. Doubtless they 
 wish to inspect our papers and to see there are no 
 malignant priests or Jacobites on board. We are now 
 in English waters and within two miles of Harwich, 
 therefore they are quite within their rights." 
 
 " Bah ! " exclaimed his lordship. " Let them come. 
 What have we to fear ? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever," replied Mr. Archibald. " The 
 Viscount Fordingbridge is an accession to the usurper's 
 Whig peers; a harmless Irish gentleman, such as Mr. 
 Doyle Fane, and a simple Scotch merchant, such as I, 
 can do no harm. While for her ladyship here " 
 
 "Come, come on deck," said his lordship, "and 
 let us see what is doing. Will it please you to remain 
 here, my lady ?" he asked, turning to his wife with an 
 evil glance in his eye. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " if they wish to see me I shall 
 be found here." 
 
 The sea had abated considerably by now, so that 
 already a boat had been lowered from the ketch, 
 which was not more than five cables length from the 
 Galliot by the time they reached the deck. It was 
 manned by a dozen sailors while an officer sat in the 
 stern sheets, and the brawny arms of the men soon 
 brought it alongside. Then, while the seamen kept 
 the boat off the Galliot with their hands and oars, the 
 officer seized the man-ropes thrown over to him, and 
 easily sprang up the accommodation ladder on to the 
 deck.
 
 A HOME COMING. g 
 
 " What vessel is this ? " he asked fiercely of the 
 captain, "and what passengers do you carry?" 
 
 " It is the Bravermann, of Rotterdam, sir," the 
 young captain replied, u chartered at Calais to bring 
 his lordship and wife with two other passengers to 
 Dover. We are blown off our course, however, 
 and " 
 
 " Where are these passengers ? " asked the 
 officer. 
 
 " Here is one," said Lord Fordingbridge, coming 
 forward, " and here two others whom I have accom- 
 modated with a passage. Her ladyship is in the 
 cabin." 
 
 "Your papers, if you please." 
 
 His lordship produced from his pocket two large 
 documents, duly signed by the English ambassador 
 and countersigned by the first secretary of the Lega- 
 tion, while to them was also affixed a stamp of the 
 Mairie ; and the lieutenant, for such he was, glanced 
 over them, compared the description of the viscount 
 with that of the person before him, and then said he 
 must see her ladyship. 
 
 " Come this way then," the other replied, and led 
 him into the cabin. " My lady," he said to his wife, 
 " this gentleman wishes to compare you with your 
 description on our passports." 
 
 Very calmly Lady Fordingbridge turned her eyes 
 on the lieutenant as he, touching his hat to her, 
 glanced at the paper and retired saying he was satis- 
 fied. Then, turning to the others, he said, " Now your 
 passports, quick." 
 
 Fane and Mr. Archibald also passed his scrutiny, 
 though once he looked under his eyelids at the latter 
 as if to make sure he was the man whose description
 
 I0 DENOUNCED. 
 
 he held in his hand, and then their passports were also 
 returned to them. 
 
 "Let me see over the ship and also her papers," he 
 said to the captain, and when this was done he seemed 
 satisfied that his duty had been performed. 
 
 "You may proceed," he said. "Call the boat 
 away," and with such scant ceremony he went to the 
 ship's side and prepared to re-embark in his own 
 cutter. 
 
 " Pardon me," exclaimed the viscount, stopping 
 him, "but we have heard strange rumours in Paris of 
 a landing effected in Scotland by the Prince of the 
 person known as the Young Pretender. Also we have 
 heard he has reached Edinburgh and been joined by 
 many persons of position in Scotland, and that an 
 English army has set forth to oppose his further march. 
 Can you tell me, sir, if this is true ?" 
 
 "I know nothing whatever on the subject," replied 
 the lieutenant, curtly as usual. " His Majesty's land 
 forces concern us not ; our account is on the sea. 
 And our duty is to search all unknown vessels proceed- 
 ing to England to see that they bear neither Jacobites, 
 pestilential priests, arms, nor money with them. Is 
 the boat there ? " 
 
 Hearing that she had again come alongside, having 
 kept off the Galliot to prevent her being stowed in, he 
 descended swiftly to her without deigning to award 
 the slightest salute to anyone on board. But as his 
 men pulled off he saw the face of Lady Fordingbridge 
 gazing out from the cabin porthole, and raised his hat 
 to her. 
 
 " Yet," said Mr. Archibald to the viscount, as they 
 sat once more in the cabin while the vessel now en- 
 tered smooth water and drew close in to Harwich,
 
 A HOME COMING. II 
 
 " whatever his duty may be he has not been wondrous 
 happy in carrying it out. For there are Jacobites, a 
 pestilential priest, and money for the cause all in this 
 ship together, arms alone being wanting. Faugh ! he 
 was a rough sea-dog, yet none too good a setter. 
 Well, well. Perhaps in this town we may glean some 
 news."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. 
 
 THE month of May, 1746, was drawing to a close, 
 and June was already giving signs of its approach, as 
 my Lord Viscount Fordingbridge sat in the library of 
 his house in Kensington-square and warmed his feet at 
 the fire which, in spite of the genial spring weather, 
 burned pleasantly on the hearth. By his side, on a 
 table, lay the morning papers of the day to which he 
 constantly referred, and which, after each occasion of 
 doing so, he threw down with a very palpable expres- 
 sion of satisfaction. 
 
 "In truth," he muttered to himself, "nought could 
 have gone much better. I am safe and and the 
 necks of all the rest are jeopardised. Jeopardised ! 
 Nay ! 'tis much worse than that. Those who are 
 caught must surely die, those who are not caught must 
 be so ere long. As for Charles Edward himself he 
 hath escaped. Well, let him go ; I have no quarrel 
 with him." 
 
 Again he took up one of the journals and read : 
 
 "This morning his Majesty's ship of war, Exeter, 
 arrived from Scotland, having on board the Earls of 
 Cromartie and Kilmarnock, and the Lord Balmerino. 
 They have been committed prisoners to the Tower on 
 a charge of high treason." "Ah," he mused, "that's 
 well, so far as it goes, though for myself I care not
 
 A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. 13 
 
 whether their lordships finish on Tower Hill or are set 
 free. Fools all ! Yet they were near winning, the 
 devil seize them ! had they but pushed on from Derby 
 they must have won, and the German who now sits 
 secure would never have had my allegiance. Charles 
 Edward would have transformed my title into that of 
 a marquis, I doubt me if George will do as much in 
 reward for my change of politics. But what I would 
 fain know is, where is the wolf Elphinston, Balmerino's 
 cousin ? He fought at Culloden, I know well reck- 
 lessly, like a man sick of life. Perhaps 'twas for his 
 lost love, Kitty ! At least in Hawley's despatch he is 
 mentioned as having killed four men of Barrell's regi- 
 ment with his own blade. May Fate confound him ! if 
 taken his life is forfeit, but where is he ? " 
 
 A knock came at the library door as he mused, and 
 in reply to his answer Mr. Archibald entered. As 
 usual, certainly since he left France, he was clothed as 
 became the part he had now assumed, of a well-to-do 
 Scotch merchant, there being only one new addition to 
 any portion of his dress. His hat, which he threw 
 carelessly upon the table, on the top of his lordship's 
 journals, bore in it the black cockade ! 
 
 " Ha, ha ! my worthy merchant," exclaimed Lord 
 Fordingbridge, as his quick eye perceived this, " my 
 worthy dealer in brocades, broadcloth, and Colchester 
 baize, so already thou trimmest the sails to catch the 
 favouring German breezes. 'Tis well." 
 
 " Stop this fooling," said the Jesuit, looking angrily 
 at him ; " is this the time for you to be joking and 
 jeering when everything is lost ? You have the jour- 
 nals there, you know well what has happened. The 
 principals of the noblest cause, of the most sublime 
 restoration that would have ever taken place, are
 
 I4 DENOUNCED. 
 
 prisoners with their lives in forfeit, some in London, 
 some in Carlisle gaol, and some at Inverness, and 
 you sit gibing there. Pardieu! sometimes I think 
 you are a fool instead of the knave I once deemed 
 you." 
 
 " If," said the viscount, scowling at the other as he 
 spoke, " you deem yourself called upon to address me 
 in such a manner, I shall be forced, Mr. Archibald, to 
 also alter my style of address to you, and to speak 
 both to and of you as the Reverend Archibald Sholto, 
 priest of the Society of Jesus, and an avowed Jaco- 
 bite. And you will remember that here, in England, 
 at such a moment as this, to be so proclaimed could 
 not be otherwise than fraught with unpleasant con- 
 sequences to you. Moreover, you will have the good- 
 ness to remember that now since the disastrous 
 events, to your side, of Culloden, the Viscount Ford- 
 ingbridge is a fervent Hanoverian." 
 
 " I will remember," said the priest, " that however 
 desirous the Viscount Fordingbridge may be to es- 
 pouse the cause of the House of Hanover, it is not in 
 his power to do so, so long as there remains one 
 Stuart to assert a claim to the throne of his ances- 
 tors. When that race ceases to exist, when no living 
 Stuart is left to call for aid, then perhaps, you may 
 be permitted to become Hanoverian, not before. 
 Now, my Lord Fordingbridge, listen to me, while I 
 go over tTie cards I hold in my hand against Simeon 
 Larpent, my whilom scholar at St. Omer, who " 
 
 " Nay ! " exclaimed the other, " do nothing of the 
 sort. I retract, I had forgotten. Recall nothing. 
 Yet, for my safety, I must appear an adherent of 
 King George. Indeed, to-morrow I attend his 
 levee."
 
 A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. 15 
 
 "For the good of the Stuart cause," the other said, 
 " you will continue as you have begun since your re- 
 turn to this country, to appear an adherent of this 
 King George ; for the good of the cause that is not 
 yet lost. There will be another rising ere long, be 
 sure of that ; if it comes not before, it will do so at 
 the death of the present usurper. Now, listen to the 
 news I bring you." 
 
 " What is it ? " the other asked, while he paled as 
 he did so. " What ? " 
 
 " The worst that you can hear. Elphinston is in 
 London." 
 
 " Elphinston here ! Is he mad ? His life is not 
 worth an hour's purchase." 
 
 " He knows that," replied the Jesuit coolly, " as 
 well as you or I do. Yet he heeds it not. Why 
 should he ? Are not other men's lives doomed who 
 are now in London ? Men who," he went on, speak- 
 ing coldly and with great distinctness, " brought 
 money into England to aid the cause ; men," still 
 his voice fell more and more crisp upon the other's 
 ear, " who did endeavour to compass the death of 
 George as he returned from his last visit to Herren- 
 hausen ; men who " 
 
 " Silence, you Jesuit devil," interrupted the other. 
 " Sometimes I wonder that you do not fear to speak 
 as you do ; that you do not dread that your own 
 death may be compassed." 
 
 " I have no fear," replied the priest, taking snuff 
 as he spoke, " so long as the walls of St. Omer con- 
 tain my papers. Rather should I fear for those 
 whose secrets would be divulged if I were to die. 
 To die even suddenly, without being assassinated." 
 
 " Well ! to your news," exclaimed the other.
 
 iQ DENOUNCED. 
 
 " What of Elphinston ! Where does he hide himself 
 away ? " 
 
 " At the moment," answered the priest, " he and 
 my brother Douglas " 
 
 " So he is here, too ! " 
 
 " He is here, too. They dwell together in lodg- 
 ings at the village of Wandsworth. Perhaps later, if 
 it goes ill with Balmerino, they may remove into the 
 City." 
 
 " To make some mad attempt to save him ! " 
 
 " Possibly. Meanwhile, do you not dread to meet 
 the man yourself ! You stole his bride from him, you 
 will remember, and now he suspects how you brought 
 it about. How will you answer to him for the false- 
 hoods by which you persuaded her that he was 
 already the husband of another woman ? " 
 
 " By my sword," Lord Fordingbridge replied 
 though at the moment he was thinking of a far 
 different manner in which Bertie Elphinstone should 
 be answered. 
 
 " It will be your only plan," Sholto said. " For by 
 treachery you can accomplish nothing. If Elphinston 
 is blown upon he will know well who is his informer 
 and will, in his turn, inform. Inform upon the man 
 who plotted to have George's person seized by French 
 pirates as he returned to England from France, the 
 man who spread broadcast through England the re- 
 ward offered by Prince Charles of ,30,000 to whom- 
 soever should seize and secure George "* 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Fordingbridge, maddened by 
 the other's taunts, " why do you persecute me like 
 
 * See appendix, note A. The reward offered by Charles Ed- 
 ward.
 
 A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. 17 
 
 this ? What have I ever done to you that you 
 threaten me thus?" 
 
 " Recall," replied the Jesuit, " your vows at St. 
 Omer, your sins since, your broken pledges, your 
 cancelled oaths. Then answer to yourself why I. do 
 these things. Moreover, remember I love my brother 
 he has been my charge since his boyhood and if 
 Elphinston is betrayed Douglas must fall too. Also 
 remember, Elphinston has been ever beloved by me. 
 You have inflicted one deadly wound on him, you 
 have wrecked his life by striking him through his 
 love think you that I will ever permit you to injure 
 him again ? Man ! " the Jesuit said, advancing nearer 
 to Fordingbridge as he spoke, and standing before 
 him in so threatening a manner that the other shrank 
 back from him, " if evil comes to Elphinston through 
 you, such evil shall in turn come to you through me 
 that I will rend your life for ever and always. Re- 
 member, I say again, remember." 
 
 He took his hat from off the table as he finished, 
 and left the room addressing no further remark to 
 the other. And, quietly as he ever moved, he was 
 about to descend the stairs when Lady Fording- 
 bridge coming from out an open door, stopped 
 him. 
 
 " I wish to speak to you," she said, in a soft, low 
 voice, " come within a moment," and, followed by 
 Sholto, she led him back into the room she had just 
 quitted. Here, too, a warm pleasant fire burned in 
 the grate, while an agreeable aroma of violets stole 
 through the apartment ; and motioning her visitor to 
 a seat her ladyship said : 
 
 " Is the news true ? Are they is Mr. Elphinston 
 in London ?"
 
 1 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " It is true, Kitty," he said. " Yet I know not how 
 you heard it." 
 
 " From my father who dreads as much to meet him 
 as the craven in his library must do." She paused a 
 moment, then she continued, " Have you seen him ?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I have seen him." 
 
 "And," she asked, wistfully, "did he send no word 
 of pardon to me ? " 
 
 The Jesuit shook his head, though in a gentle 
 kindly manner, ere he replied. " No, child. He spoke 
 not of you." 
 
 She sat gazing into the embers for a few moments 
 more ; then she went on. 
 
 " Yet he must know, he cannot but know how 
 basely I was deceived. You told me months ago that 
 he had learnt some of the story from your brother's 
 lips, who learnt it from you. Is there no room for 
 pity in his heart ? Will he never forgive ? " 
 
 " If he thinks aught," said the Jesuit, still very 
 gently, to her, " it is that you should never have be- 
 lieved so base a tale. So at least he tells Douglas. To 
 me he has never spoken of the matter." 
 
 " Alas ! " she said. " How could I doubt ? Lord 
 Fordingbridge I might have disbelieved, but my fa- 
 ther ! " and here she shuddered. " How could I think 
 that he would stoop to practise such lies, such duplici- 
 ty, on his own child ? " 
 
 Father Sholto made no answer to this remark, con- 
 tenting himself with lifting his hands from his knees 
 and warming the palms at the fire. And so they sat, 
 neither speaking for two or three moments. Then 
 she said : 
 
 " Father, will you take a letter to him from me ? " 
 
 This time he lifted his bushy eyebrows instead of
 
 A SUBJECT OF KING GEORGE. 19 
 
 his hands, and looked at her from underneath them. 
 Next he shrugged his shoulders, and then he said: 
 
 " Kitty, for you I will do anything, for you who 
 have ever been a dutiful daughter of the Church, ay ! 
 and a loyal adherent to a now sadly broken cause. 
 Yet, child, what use to write ? Nothing can undo 
 what is done ; you must make the best of matters. 
 Solace your wounded heart with the rank you have 
 gained, with your husband's now comfortable means, 
 your reception at the Court of the Hanoverian king, 
 for king he is, and, I fear, must be. However great 
 the evil that was done, it must be borne. You and 
 Bertie Elphinston are sundered for ever in this world, 
 unless- " 
 
 " Unless ? " she repeated, with a swift glance from 
 her eyes. 
 
 " You both survive him. Yet, how shall such a 
 thing be ! He is no older than Elphinston himself, 
 and, much as he has wronged that other, no repara- 
 tion, not even his life, would set things right. If 
 Bertie slew him he could not marry his victim's 
 widow." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " said Lady Fordingbridge, " the last 
 thing he would wish to do now, even were I free, 
 would be to have me for his wife. Me whom once he 
 loved so tenderly." 
 
 Once more the Jesuit twitched up his great eye- 
 brows and muttered something to himself, and then 
 seemed bent in thought. And as Kitty sat watching 
 him she caught disconnected whispers from his lips. 
 " Douglas might do it," she heard him say ; " that way 
 the gate would be open. Yet he cannot be spared, 
 not yet," until at last he ceased, after which, looking up 
 from his reverie, he said to her :
 
 20 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "What do you wish to write to him, child? You, 
 the Viscountess Fordingbridge, must have a care as to 
 your epistles to unmarried men." 
 
 "Be under no apprehension," she replied. "Yet, if 
 if he would pardon me, would send me one little 
 line to say God ! that he does not hate me oh ! 
 that he who once loved me so should come to hate me 
 then, then I might again be happy, a little happy. 
 Father, I must write to him." 
 
 " So be it," he answered. " Write if you must. I 
 will convey the letter."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 
 
 THE next night Father Sholto, who was lodged in 
 Lord Fordingbridge's house, took a hackney coach 
 through the fields to Chelsea Church, and so was fer- 
 ried across to Battersea. Then, because the evening 
 was soft and mild and there was a young moon, he 
 decided to walk on by the road to the next vil- 
 lage, namely Wandsworth, which lay half an hour fur- 
 ther on. 
 
 " Poor Kitty," he thought to himself, as he felt the 
 packet she had confided to him press against his 
 breast, " poor Kitty ! Why could she not have be- 
 lieved in Bertie's truth ? Surely anything might have 
 been set against the word of such a creature as Simeon 
 Larpent, pupil of mine though he be. Peste ! why was 
 not I in Paris when all was happening ? By now they 
 would have been happy. They could have lived in 
 France or Italy. We, the Society," and he crossed 
 himself as he went on, " would have found the where- 
 withal ; or even in America they might have, perhaps, 
 been safe. Yet now ! Now ! Elphinston is a heart- 
 broken man ; Kitty, a heart-broken woman. Alas ! 
 alas! 
 
 With meditations such as these, for political Scotch 
 Jesuit as Archibald Sholto was, and fierce partisan 
 of his countrymen, Charles Stuart and his father 
 
 21
 
 22 DENOUNCED. 
 
 James, there beat a kindly heart within him, he reached 
 the long, straggling village street of Wandsworth. 
 Then, turning off somewhat sharply to the right, he 
 emerged after another five minutes upon a road above 
 the strand of the river, on which, set back in shady 
 gardens, in which grew firs, cedars, and chestnut trees, 
 were some antique and picturesque houses built a hun- 
 dred years before. 
 
 At one of these, the first he came to, he knocked 
 three times on the garden gate and rang a bell, the 
 handle of which was set high in the door frame ; and 
 then in a moment a strong, heavy tread was heard 
 coming from the house to the gate. 
 
 " Who is it ? " a man's voice asked from within. 
 
 " Nunquam triumphans" * was the priest's answer, 
 softly given, and as he spoke the postern door was 
 opened, and a tall man stood before Sholto. In a mo- 
 ment their hands were clasped in each other's and their 
 greetings exchanged. 
 
 " Tis good of you, Archie, to come again to-night," 
 his younger brother said to him; "have you brought 
 more news ? How fares it with those in the Tower?" 
 
 " 111," replied the other. " As ill as may be. The 
 trials are fixed, 'tis said, for July at latest. One will, 
 however, escape. Tullibardine " 
 
 " The Marquis of Tullibardine escape ! Why, then, 
 there is hope for the others ! " 
 
 " Ay ! " replied the elder brother, " there is, by the 
 same way. Tullibardine is dying in the Tower. His 
 life draws to a close." 
 
 " Pish ! What use such an escape ? But come in, 
 
 " Tandem triumphans" was the motto emblazoned on Charles 
 Edward's banner during the march into England. " Nunquam tri- 
 umphans " was afterwards a password between Jacobites.
 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 23 
 
 Archie. Bertie looks ever for you." Then he stopped 
 on the gravel path and, gazing into the other's face as 
 it shone in the moonlight, he said, " What of Kitty ? 
 Have you told her he is in London ?" 
 
 " Ay," replied the Jesuit, " and have on me now a 
 letter to him from her, suing, I believe, for forgive- 
 ness. Douglas ! " he exclaimed, seizing the other by 
 the arm, " Bertie must pardon her. You must make 
 him. Otherwise " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " I fear I know not what. Her love for him is 
 what it ever was, stronger, fiercer, may be, because of 
 the treachery that tore them asunder ; she thinks of 
 him alone. And if she grows desperate Heaven knows 
 what may be the outcome of it. Murder of Simeon ! 
 betrayal of him ! Self-slaughter ! She is capable of 
 all or any, if goaded too far. He must forgive her." 
 
 " Forgive her ! " exclaimed his younger brother. 
 "Forgive her! Why, who shall doubt it; what pos- 
 sesses your mind ? There is no fear of that. No, 
 that is not what there is to fear." 
 
 "What then ?" asked Archibald, bewildered. 
 
 " That if they should once again meet no power 
 on earth could ever part them more. Even now he 
 broods all day, and night too, on finding her, on carry- 
 ing her off by force. There are scores of our coun- 
 trymen in London in disguise who would do it for him 
 at his bidding or help him to do it as well as to slay Ford- 
 ingbridge. I tell you, Archie, he would stand at noth- 
 ing. Nothing ! Why, man, as we fought side by side 
 at Prestonpans he muttered a score of times, ' Kate, 
 Kate, Kate." And once, as he cut down an officer of 
 Fowke's dragoons, he exclaimed, ' Each Hanoverian 
 dog who falls brings us so much the nearer to London
 
 24 DENOUNCED. 
 
 and me to Kate.' Faith ! though the battle lasted but 
 four minutes, he muttered her name ten times as 
 often." 
 
 " Come," said the other, " let us go in to him. I 
 would I knew what is best to do. Ah, well ! most 
 affairs settle themselves. Pray Heaven this one may." 
 
 Over a fire, burning in an ancient grate constructed 
 for the consumption of wood alone, they found Bertie 
 Elphinston brooding, as his friend had described. And 
 as all the Scotch had done who had sought a hiding- 
 place in London after the defeat of the Stuart army in 
 Scotland, any marks that might proclaim their nation- 
 ality had been carefully exchanged where the purse 
 allowed for more English traits and characteristics. 
 Therefore Elphinston was now clad as any other gen- 
 tleman of the time might be, plainly but well a 
 branched velvet coat with a satin lining, a black silk 
 embroidered waistcoat, and breeches of velvet in keep- 
 ing with the coat constituting his dress, while he wore 
 his own hair, of a dark-brown colour and slightly 
 curly. Against the side of the large open-mouthed 
 grate and near to his hand there reclined an ordinary 
 plate-handled sword, with the belt hanging to it as 
 when unbuckled from the body; deeper in a recess 
 might be seen two claymores, with which weapons 
 the Scotch had recently inflicted such deadly slaughter 
 on the Duke of Cumberland's troops. 
 
 " Ha, Archie ! " exclaimed the young man, spring- 
 ing up from his chair and grasping the Jesuit's hand, 
 "welcome, old friend. So you have found your way 
 here once more. A la bonne chance! Yet," he went 
 op, while his handsome face clouded again with the 
 gloomy look that it had borne before lighting up at 
 the entrance of their friend, " why say so ! You can
 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 25 
 
 bring us no good news now you can," he said in a 
 lower voice, " bring me none. Yet speak, Archie, 
 how is it with our poor friends ? " 
 
 " As before. There is no news, except that their 
 trials are fixed. Yet all bear up well, the head of 
 your house especially so. He jests ever p'raps 'tis 
 to cheer his wife more than for aught else. She is ad- 
 mitted to see him, and brings and takes our news, and 
 he sends always, through her, his love to you. Also 
 he bids you begone from out of England, you and 
 Douglas both, since there can be no safety for you in 
 it. The king is implacable, he will spare none." 
 
 "And the Prince, our Prince," asked Elphinston, 
 " what of him ; is he safe ? " 
 
 " He is not taken," replied the other. "We know 
 nought else. But in truth, it is partly to endorse Lord 
 Balmerino's injunction that I am here to-night. Both 
 of you must begone. London is no place for Jacobites 
 of any degree ; for those who have recently fought 
 the peril is deadly. Already the whole town is searched 
 from end to end. The Tower is full of prisoners. 
 From noble lords down to the meanest, it is crammed 
 with them. Gallows are already being put up on Ken- 
 nington Common ; soon the slaughter will begin. My 
 boys, you must back to France." 
 
 " Douglas may go if he will," replied Elphinston, 
 looking at his comrade. " I remain here. I have 
 something to do." Then he said quietly, "Where is 
 Lord Fordingbridge ? " 
 
 " At present in London, but he leaves for his seat 
 in Cheshire to-morrow. Bertie," the Jesuit exclaimed, 
 " if what you have to do is with him it must be post- 
 poned. To seek out Fordingbridge now would be 
 your undoing."
 
 2 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " And his wife does does she go too ? " 
 
 " No," the other replied, " she stays in London. 
 Bertie, I have brought you a letter from her." 
 
 "A letter from Kate Lady Fordingbridge to 
 me ! To me ! What does it mean ? What can have 
 caused her to write to me ? " 
 
 " Best read the letter," replied the other. " And 
 as you read it think try to think kindly of her. Re- 
 member, too, that whatever she was to you once, she 
 is now another man's wife. However great a villain 
 he may be, remember that." 
 
 " Give me the letter," Elphinston said briefly. 
 
 Sholto took from his pocket the little packet; then, 
 as he gave it to the other, he said, " Douglas and I 
 will leave you to its perusal. The night is fine, he 
 can walk with me to Battersea. Farewell." 
 
 " Farewell," returned Elphinston. " And and tell 
 her ladyship if there is aught to answer such answer 
 will be sent." 
 
 " Be careful of your messengers. Remember. Dan- 
 ger surrounds you." 
 
 " I shall remember." 
 
 When they were gone, his friend saying he would 
 be back in an hour's time, the young man turned the 
 letter over more than once ere he broke the seal it 
 bore no address upon it, perhaps for safety's sake 
 and then, at last, he opened it and commenced its 
 perusal. And as he did so and saw the once familiar 
 handwriting, he sighed profoundly more than once. 
 Yet soon he was engrossed in the contents. They ran 
 as follows : 
 
 " I hear you are in London and that at last is it 
 possible for me to do what I have long desired 
 though hitherto no opportunity has arisen namely, to
 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 27 
 
 explain that which in your eyes may seem to be my 
 treachery to you. 
 
 "Mr. Elphinston, when you and I last parted, I 
 was your affianced wife; I write to you now as the 
 wife of another man to ask you for your pardon. If I 
 set down all as it came to pass it may be that, at least, 
 you will cease to hate my memory the memory of 
 my name. Nightly I pray that such may some day be 
 the case. Thereby at last I may know ease, though 
 never again happiness in this world. 
 
 " When you quitted Paris a year ago you went, as 
 you said you were going, to Rome on a message to 
 the Pope connected with the Cause. Alas! you and 
 Father Sholto had not been sped a week ere very 
 different tidings reached me. My father God forgive 
 him ! first poisoned my ears with rumours which he 
 said were spread not only over all Paris but also at St. 
 Germains, Vincennes, and Marly that it was on no 
 political matter that you had departed. It was known 
 even I knew so much, I had jested with you about 
 it, had even been sore on the subject that Madeleine 
 Baufremont, of the Queen's .Chamber, admired you. 
 Now, so said my unhappy father, with well-acted mis- 
 ery, it was whispered that she and you had gone away 
 together. Moreover, he said there was no doubt that 
 you and she were married. He even named the church 
 at which the marriage had taken place at Moret, be- 
 yond Fontainebleau." 
 
 " So, so," muttered Bertie Elphinston, as he read. 
 " I see. I begin to see. 'Tis as I thought, though I 
 did not know this. Well, a better lie than one might 
 have hoped." 
 
 . "Next," the letter continued, "there came to me 
 the man who is now my husband then, as you know, 
 3
 
 2 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the Honourable Simeon Larpent, his father being still 
 alive. Needless to tell you, Mr. Elphinston, of how 
 this man had ever sought my love ; first, because of 
 our poverty, in a manner alike disgraceful to both, 
 and next, when that design failed, in a more honour- 
 able fashion. Yet, of no avail when you But 
 
 enough. You also know well how every plea of his was 
 rejected by me. 
 
 " He, too, told the same tale. He protested to me 
 that on the morning you left St. Germains Madeleine 
 Baufremont set out on the same southern road, that 
 your carriages met and joined at Etampes, and that 
 thence you travelled together to Moret." 
 
 " The devil can indeed speak the truth," muttered 
 Bertie, as he read thus far. 
 
 " Still, I would not I could not believe. Our 
 last parting was fresh in my mind, ay ! in my heart ; 
 our last vows and last farewells, our projects for the 
 future, our hopes of days of happiness to come for- 
 give me if I remind you of them they are wrecked 
 now! I say I could not believe. Yet, wherever I 
 looked, wherever I made inquiries, there was but one 
 answer. The English, Scotch, and Irish gentlemen 
 who frequented my father's house all gave the same 
 answer, though none spake the words I feared. Some, 
 I observed, regarded me with glances that were full of 
 pity for which I hated them others preserved a si- 
 lence that was worse tenfold than speech, some smiled 
 in their sleeves. And Larpent was ever there always, 
 always, always. And one day he came to where I was 
 sitting and said to me, ' Kitty, if you will indeed know 
 the truth, there is a witness below who can give it to 
 you. The curt of Moret has come to Paris with a pe- 
 tition to the king against the exactions of the Seigneur.
 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 
 
 2 9 
 
 Kitty, he it was who made Bertie Elphinston and 
 Madeleine Baufremont man and wife." 
 
 " ' So be it,' I replied. ' Yet, remember their mar- 
 riage makes ours no nearer.' ' It will come,' he re- 
 plied. 'I can not believe that my reward will never 
 come.' Whereon he left the room and came back with 
 the curt. Alas ! he told so plain a tale, describing 
 you with such precision and Madeleine Baufremont 
 also, that there was, indeed, no room left for doubt. 
 Yet still I could scarce believe ; for even though you 
 had not loved me, even though jour burning words, 
 your whispers of love had all been false, why, why, I 
 asked again and again, should you have stooped to 
 such duplicity ? If you had tired of me, if that other 
 had turned your heart from me to her, one word 
 would have been enough ; I must have let you go 
 when you no longer desired to stay by my side. Mr. 
 Elphinston, I wrote to you at Rome, to the address 
 you had given me and to the English College there; I 
 wrote to Father Sholto alas ! I so much forgot my 
 pride, that I wrote to Douglas, who had then joined 
 the squadron commanded by Monsieur de Roquefeuille 
 for the invasion of England. I could not part from 
 you yet " these words were scored out by the writer, 
 and, in their place, the sentence began " I could not 
 yet believe in your deceit, in your cold, cruel betrayal 
 of a woman who had trusted in you as in a god ; it 
 seemed all too base and heartless. Yet neither from 
 you nor the Sholtos came one line in answer to my 
 prayer." 
 
 Elphinston groaned bitterly as he read the words. 
 He knew now how easily the trap had been laid. 
 
 "Then, at last, I did believe. Then, at last, I re- 
 nounced you and your love. I denied to my own
 
 30 DENOUNCED. 
 
 heart that I had ever known a man named Bertie El- 
 phinston, that I had ever been that man's promised 
 wife. I tore you from my heart for ever. It was 
 hard, yet I did it. Time passed, no intelligence came 
 of you or Madeleine Baufremont. I even heard that 
 the Due de Baufremont had petitioned the king that, 
 if you again entered French territory, you should be 
 punished for abducting his daughter. Yet, as the days 
 went on, I allowed Simeon Larpent to approach me no 
 nearer on the subject. So he and my father concocted 
 a fresh scheme by which I was at last led to consent 
 to become his wife. We were, as you know, poor, 
 horribly poor; the Cours cTEscrime hardly provided 
 for our needs. Often, indeed, I had wondered how we 
 managed to subsist so well on what seemed to me to 
 be nothing. My father talked vaguely of an allow- 
 ance to him, in common with other refugees from 
 England, from the French king or from the Chevalier 
 St. George, or the Scotch Fund. Now for at this 
 period the old Lord Fordingbridge died he said we 
 had been subsisting for some time on money lent, or 
 we could, if we chose, consider it given to us, by the 
 present lord. He would never, my father said, de- 
 mand repayment ; indeed, such was his lordship's re- 
 spect for him and his admiration for me, that he would 
 cheerfully continue his allowance, or, since he was now 
 very well-to-do, increase it. So I learnt that I had 
 been dependent for the bread I ate, the dress I wore, 
 to this man. Need I say more ! You know that I be- 
 came the wife of Lord Fordingbridge. 
 
 " A month had not passed ere I knew the truth as 
 to how I had been duped and deceived as to how I 
 had been false to you. De Roquefeuille's squadron 
 was driven back by Sir John Nprris, and Douglas
 
 A WOMAN'S LETTER. 31 
 
 Sholto returned to Paris. He told me all ; that it was 
 your kinsman and namesake of Glenbervie who had 
 left Paris with you to espouse Madeleine Baufremont, 
 and that you tied under a solemn promise to in no 
 way let his approaching marriage with her be known 
 had kept the secret even from me. Alas ! had you 
 given me one hint, spoken one word, how different all 
 would have been ! Yet, I do not reproach you for 
 fidelity to your friend ; I only ask that when you 
 think of me if you ever think at all as not trusting 
 you, you will recollect that your own silence made it 
 possible for me to doubt. 
 
 " One word more, and I shall not trouble you fur- 
 ther. It is to beseech you to quit London at once, to 
 put yourself in safety, with the seas between you and 
 the English Government. For, even though you might 
 lie hid from the vengeance that will fall on all follow- 
 ers of the prince who may be caught, I fear that pri- 
 vate malice, aided by personal fear of you, may lead 
 to your betrayal. Be warned, I beseech you. Fare- 
 well and forgive. 
 
 " CATHERINE FORDINGBRIDGE."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES. 
 
 THE letter written by Lady Fordingbridge, read 
 in conjunction with some other remarks made by other 
 persons who have been introduced to the reader's no- 
 tice, may serve to inform him of the state of affairs 
 that led to the position in which things were at the 
 period when this narrative commences, namely, the 
 month of May, 1746. A few other words of addi- 
 tional explanation alone are necessary. 
 
 At the time when Cardinal Tencin (who looked 
 forward to becoming the successor of Fleury as Prime 
 Minister of France, and who owed his elevation to the 
 purple as well as to the Primacy of France to the in- 
 fluence of the old Pretender) persuaded Louis XV. to 
 support the claims of the Stuarts as his great-grand- 
 father and predecessor had done, Paris was, as is well 
 known" to all readers of history, full of English, Scotch, 
 and Irish Jacobites. These refugees from their own 
 countries were to be found in all capacities in that 
 city, some serving as the agents of the exiled Cheva- 
 lier de St. George, who was now resident at Rome, 
 and others as correspondents between the followers of 
 the Stuarts in London, Rome, and Paris ; also, some 
 resided there either from the fact that their presence 
 would not be tolerated in England or its dependencies, 
 and some because, in their staunch loyalty to the fallen
 
 THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES. 33 
 
 House, they were not disposed to dwell in a country 
 which they considered was ruled over by usurpers. 
 To this class belonged the late Viscount Fording- 
 bridge, a staunch Cheshire nobleman, who had been 
 out in the '15, had afterwards escaped from the Isle of 
 Skye, and had also had the good fortune to escape 
 forfeiture of his estates, owing to the fact that, though 
 he had been out himself, he had neither furnished 
 men, arms, nor money, so far as was known. 
 
 But also in Paris were still others who, loyal Jaco- 
 bites as they were, and followers of a ruined party, were 
 yet obliged to earn their bread in the best way they 
 were able. Thus Doyle Fane, Kitty's father, an Irish 
 gentleman of good family who had himself seen serv- 
 ice under France and Austria, eked out a slender 
 allowance paid irregularly by James Stuart by les- 
 sons in swordsmanship, of which art he was an expert 
 master. Some, again, obtained commissions in French 
 regiments, many, indeed, being glad to serve as sim- 
 ple privates; while several who were more fortunate 
 and among whom were Douglas Sholto and Bertie 
 Elphinston obtained positions in the Garde du Roi 
 or the Mousquetaires, or other corps, and so waited in 
 the hopes of a descent on England in which they 
 would be allowed to take part by resigning tempora- 
 rily their French commissions. 
 
 Of priests affecting Stuart principles there were 
 also several, some, as was the case with Archibald 
 Sholto, being temporarily attached to St. Omer, at 
 which there was a large English seminary for the edu- 
 cation of young Catholics, but all of whom were fre- 
 quently in London and Paris, plotting always restless- 
 ly for the overthrow of the present reigning House in 
 England, and for the restoration of the discarded one.
 
 ,. DENOUNCED. 
 
 34 
 
 Fane's residence at this period, which was shortly 
 before the expedition of Charles Edward to recover, if 
 possible, the throne of England for his father, was a 
 popular resort of many of the exiled English, Scotch, 
 and Irish, principally because, in the better classes of 
 men who were still young, the practice of the sword 
 was unceasing, and also, perhaps, because in the next 
 house to his was a well-known tavern, " Le Phcebus 
 Anglais," kept by a Jacobite, and a great place of as- 
 sembly for all the fraternity. But for the younger 
 men there was an even greater attraction than either 
 the advantages of continued practice in swordsman- 
 ship or a cheap but good tavern the attraction of 
 Kitty Fane's beauty. 
 
 Kitty kept her father's house for him, kept also his 
 accounts, made his fees go as long a way as possible, 
 and his bottle last out as well as could be the case 
 when submitted so often to the constant demands on 
 it, and was admired and respected by all who came to 
 the little house in the Rue Trouse Vache. Besides 
 her beauty, she was known to be a girl who respected 
 herself, and was consequently respected; and as Doyle 
 Fane was also known to be a gentleman by birth, and 
 Kitty's mother to have been a daughter of one of the 
 oldest families in Ireland, none ever dreamed of treat- 
 ing her in a manner other than became a lady. 
 
 Of declared lovers she had two, one whom she dis- 
 liked for reasons she knew not why at first ; the other 
 whom she adored. Simeon Larpent, heir to the then 
 dying Lord Fordingbridge, was one; Bertie Elphin- 
 ston, of the Regiment of Picardy, the other. With 
 Larpent, however, the reasons why she disliked him 
 soon made themselves apparent. He was crafty by 
 nature, with a craft that had been much fostered at
 
 THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES. 35 
 
 St. Omer and Lisbon, where he was educated, and he 
 was, she thought, lacking in bravery. When other 
 men were planning and devising as to how they could 
 find a place in that army which under Count Saxe, to 
 be convoyed to England by De Roquefeuille was 
 then forming, he made no attempt to become one of 
 its number, giving as his reasons his father's ill-health 
 and his opinion that he could better serve the Cause 
 by remaining in France. Yet Bertie Elphinston had 
 at the same time a delicate mother residing at Passy, 
 and Douglas Sholto was in poor health at the mo- 
 ment; and still they were both going. 
 
 Moreover, Simeon Larpent's admiration was dis- 
 tasteful to her. He had then but recently come back 
 to Paris from Lisbon, from which he brought no par- 
 ticular good character, while he appeared by his con- 
 versation and mode of life to have contracted many 
 extremely bad habits. In the Paris of those days 
 the practice and admiration of morality stood at a 
 terribly low point, yet Simeon Larpent seemed more 
 depraved than most young men were in that city 
 even. In a morose and sullen fashion he revelled 
 in all the iniquities that prevailed during the middle 
 of Louis XV's reign, and his name became noted in 
 English circles as that of a man unscrupulous and 
 abandoned, as well as shifty and cunning. Moreover, 
 even his Jacobitism was looked upon with doubtful 
 eyes, and not a few were heard to say that the hour 
 which witnessed his father's death would also see him 
 an avowed Hanoverian. That such would have been 
 the case was certain, had not, however, the old lord's 
 death taken place at the very moment when Charles 
 Edward made the last Stuart bid for restoration in 
 England. But at such a time it was impossible that
 
 ^6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the new peer could approach the English king. Had 
 he done so it would have been more than his life was 
 worth. At the best, he would have been forced into a 
 duel with some infuriated Jacobite; at the worst, his 
 body would have been found in the Seine, stabbed to 
 the heart. 
 
 Meanwhile those events which Lady Fordingbridge 
 had spoken of in her letter to Bertie Elphinston had 
 taken place; nothing was heard by her either of her 
 lover or the Sholtos, and she became the wife of Ford- 
 ingbridge. For a month he revelled in the possession 
 of the beautiful woman he had coveted since first he 
 set eyes on her ; then she found out the truth and his 
 lordship had no longer a wife except in name. She 
 had one interview with him alone and after that had 
 taken place she never willingly spoke to him again. Her 
 pride forbade her to separate from him, but with the ex- 
 ception that the same roof sheltered and the same walls 
 enclosed them, they might as well have dwelt in differ- 
 ent streets. Against all his protestations, his vows, 
 his declarations that love, and love alone, had forced 
 him to play the part he had, she turned a deaf ear; 
 she would not even open her lips if possible, to show 
 that she had heard his words. She had come to hate 
 and despise him as she told him in that one interview 
 and her every action afterwards testified that she 
 had spoken the truth. 
 
 And now, when the married life of Lord and Lady 
 Fordingbridge had arrived at this pass, the time was 
 also come when scores of Jacobites, militant, priestly, 
 or passive as they might be, poured into England. 
 For Charles Edward had landed at Moidart, Tullibar- 
 dine had displayed at Glenfinnen the white, blue, and 
 red silk standard of the prince, the march southward
 
 THE SUBJECTS OF KING JAMES. 37 
 
 had begun. Following on this news all of which 
 reached Paris with extraordinary rapidity came the 
 intelligence of the Battle of Preston, the capture of 
 Edinburgh, Charles's installation at Holyrood, the rout 
 of Cope's army, the march into England, and the de- 
 termination of George II. to take the field in person 
 against the invader. And among those who received 
 their orders to at once proceed to England was Lord 
 Fordingbridge, such orders coming from out the mouth 
 of the restless Father Sholto. 
 
 "But," exclaimed his lordship, " I have no desire 
 to proceed to England. My unhappy married life 
 for such it has become will be no better there than 
 here. And in France, at least, matrimonial disputes 
 are not regarded." 
 
 " Your desire," said the priest, "is of no concern. 
 I tell you what is required of you there is nothing 
 left for you but to conform. We wish a goodly num- 
 ber of adherents to the Stuart cause indeed, all whom 
 it is possible to obtain to be in London when the 
 prince and his army arrive, as it is now an almost fore- 
 gone conclusion they will do. You must, therefore, 
 be there. Only, since you are of a calculating not to 
 say timorous nature, and as no Jacobite nobleman 
 will be permitted to enter England until the prince is 
 in London, you will travel with papers describing you 
 as a nobleman who has given in his adherence to the 
 House of Hanover. I shall go with you it is neces- 
 sary that I keep you under my eyes as much as pos- 
 sible ; also it is fitting that I should be in London. In 
 either case my services will be required, whether we 
 are successful or not." 
 
 In this way, therefore, his lordship returned to 
 England in company with his wife and his wife's father
 
 3 g DENOUNCED. 
 
 as well as the Jesuit. Only, he made several reserva- 
 tions in his own mind as to how he would manage his 
 own political affairs, as to how, indeed, he would trim 
 his sails. 
 
 "For," said he to himself, "whether I become 
 Hanoverian or remain Jacobite will depend vastly on 
 which side wins. Once in England I shake off this 
 accursed hold which Sholto and all the other priests of 
 St. Omer have on me ; nay, if Hanover comes up upper- 
 most, Sholto himself shall be laid by the heels. There 
 will be a pretty sweep made of the Jesuits if Charles 
 gets beaten. If he drives out George, why, then ah ! 
 well, time enough to ponder." 
 
 The events of three months soon showed to which 
 side victory was ultimately to belong. Cumberland 
 destroyed the Scotch army, Charles Edward was in 
 hiding in the land he had entered attended by such 
 bright hopes and prospects; all who had fought on his 
 side were either dead, in prison, or fled. And Simeon 
 Larpent, Viscount Fordingbridge, was quite with the 
 consent for the time being of Archibald Sholto an 
 avowed Hanoverian and received into favour by the 
 Hanoverian king, though with a strong watch kept on 
 all his actions by that king's Ministers.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 ON the day after Bertie Elphinston received the 
 letter from his lost love, Lady Fordingbridge, his lord- 
 ship himself set out from London to journey into 
 Cheshire, there to visit his estate in that county. 
 He had previously intimated to his wife who had 
 told Father Sholto of the fact that he intended be- 
 ing absent from London for some weeks ; indeed, had 
 asked her whether it was her desire to accompany 
 him. To this question or invitation her ladyship had, 
 however, returned the usual monosyllabic answer 
 which she generally accorded him, and had briefly 
 replied " No." Then being pressed by him to give 
 some reason for her refusal to so accompany him, she 
 had turned round with that bright blaze in her blue 
 eyes which he had learnt to dread, and had ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Why pester me especially when we are alone 
 with these useless questions and formalities ? We 
 have arranged, decided the mode in which our exist- 
 ences are to be passed, if passed together it is 
 enough. We remain together ostensibly on the con- 
 dition that I share this house with you I will have 
 no other part in your false life. And if you cannot 
 conform to this arrangement, then even this appear- 
 ance of union can had best be severed."
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 4 
 
 The viscount bit his lips after her cold contemptu- 
 ous tones, yet, with that strange power which he pos- 
 sessed, he overmastered the burning rage that rose 
 up in his heart against her. Only he asked himself 
 now, as often before he had asked himself, would he 
 always be able to exercise such control able to re- 
 frain from bursting forth against her, and by so doing 
 put an end to the artificial existence they were liv- 
 ing ? 
 
 But now the morning had come for him to depart 
 for the country ; outside in the square he could hear 
 the horses shaking their harness while his carriage 
 waited for him ; it was time for him to go. There- 
 fore he went to his wife's morning-room and found 
 her ladyship taking her chocolate. 
 
 " I come, madam," he said, with that usual as- 
 sumption of courtliness which he always treated her 
 to since they had become estranged, " to bid you 
 farewell for some few weeks. I will notify you by 
 the post of my proposed return. Meanwhile your 
 ladyship need not be dull. You have the entry now 
 to the Court circles, you have also your respected 
 father with you in this house. And there are many 
 friends of your younger days in London " he shot an 
 evil, oblique glance at her out of the corner of his 
 eye as he said this, which was not lost on her " to 
 wit, Mr. Archibald and and others. Doubtless ere 
 I return you may have renewed some of your earlier 
 acquaintanceships. They should be agreeable." 
 
 For answer she gave him never a word, but, stirring 
 her cup of chocolate leisurely, looked him straight in 
 the face ; then she let her eyes fall on the journal 
 she had been perusing and again commenced to do so 
 as though he were not in the room.
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. ^ 
 
 " Curse her," muttered her husband to himself as 
 her indifference stung him to the quick, " curse her, 
 ere long the bolt shall be sped." After which he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " My lady, as is ever the case, I perceive my pres- 
 ence is unwelcome. Once more I bid you adieu," and 
 took himself out of the room and also out of the 
 house. And so he set forth upon his journey. 
 
 For a young man on the road to his old family seat, 
 Lord Fordingbridge was that morning strangely pre- 
 occupied and indifferent to the events around him, and 
 sat in his carriage huddled up in one corner of it more 
 like an elderly sick man than aught else. The cheer- 
 ful bustle of the village of Islington, the pretty 
 country villas at Highgate, the Iffrks singing over 
 Finchley Common and Hadley Green, had no power 
 to rouse him from his stupor if stupor it was 
 nor either had the bright sun and the warm balmy 
 spring air that came in at the open windows. A 
 strange way for an English nobleman to set out upon 
 his journey to the place where his forefathers had 
 dwelt for ages ! A strange way, indeed, considering 
 that he might be regarded as an extremely fortunate 
 man. The head of a family with strong Stuart tend- 
 encies, and suspected of himself participating in 
 those tendencies, he had yet been at once received 
 into favour by the King on returning to London. 
 This alone should have made his heart light within 
 him, for he had but now to conform to that King's 
 demands to pass the rest of his existence in peace and 
 full enjoyment of his comfortable means to feel that 
 his father's and his family's Jacobitism was forgotten, 
 that all was well with him. George was now welcom- 
 ing to his fold every exiled Jacobite who had not
 
 42 DENOUNCED. 
 
 openly fought or plotted and schemed against him in 
 the recent invasion, and many peers and gentlemen 
 who had long lived abroad in exile were hastening to 
 tender their adherence to the German king, feeling 
 perfectly sure that, after the events of the past three 
 months, the day of the Stuarts was past and gone for 
 ever. 
 
 Why, therefore, could not Simeon Larpent look 
 forward as hopefully to the future as all his brother 
 exiles who had returned were doing ? Why ! Was it 
 because of the enmity of his wife to him, an enmity 
 which he knew could never slacken ; or was it because 
 of his fear of that other man whom he had so deeply 
 wronged; or because of what his scheming mind was 
 now fashioning ? This we shall see. 
 
 The roads were heavy with the recent spring 
 showers so that the four horses of his coach could 
 drag it but tediously along them, and it was nightfall 
 ere South Mimms was reached, and night itself ere 
 they arrived at St. Albans, and Lord Fordingbridge 
 descended at the Angel. To the bowing landlord he 
 gave his name, and stated that he wished a bed-room 
 and a parlour for himself, and a room for his men ; 
 and then, as he was about to follow his obsequious 
 host up the broad staircase, he said, pulling out his 
 watch : 
 
 " It is now after seven. At nine I expect to be 
 visited by a gentleman whom I have appointed to 
 meet me here. His name is Captain Morris. You 
 will please entertain him at my cost to-night, and do 
 so at your best. On his arrival, if he hath not 
 supped, ask him to do so ; if he hath, show him in 
 at once to me_ Now I will prepare for my own 
 meal." 
 
 V.
 
 43 
 
 Again Boniface bowed low lower even than be- 
 fore, after he had become acquainted with his visitor's 
 rank and position and escorted him to a large, 
 comfortable bed-room on the first floor, in which a 
 cheerful fire burnt in the grate. And throwing open 
 two heavy folding-doors, he showed next a bright 
 sitting-room, also with a fire, and well lit. 
 
 " This will do very well," said his lordship. " Now 
 send my servant to me with my valise. And let him 
 wait on me at table." 
 
 All through the repast he partook of the viscount 
 meditated gloomily and gravely, eating but little of 
 the substantial meal provided by the landlord, drink- 
 ing sparingly, and addressing no remark to his serv- 
 ant. Then when he had finished, he had his chair 
 drawn up before the fire, a bottle of wine and another 
 of brandy placed on the table, and, bidding the servant 
 withdraw and bring Captain Morris to him when he 
 should arrive, he again fell to meditating and musing, 
 speaking sometimes aloud to himself. 
 
 " It is the only way," he muttered, in disconnected 
 sentences, " the only way. And it must be done at 
 one swoop; otherwise it is useless. So long as one of 
 them is free I am fettered. The only way ! And 
 then when that is accomplished to deal with you, 
 my lady. Let me see." He began counting on his 
 fingers and tapping the tips as still he pondered, 
 touching first his forefinger, then the second and third, 
 and once or twice nodding his head as though well 
 satisfied with himself. 
 
 "As for Fane," he muttered next, "he scarce 
 counts. Yet he, too, must be taken care of. But of 
 that later. Doubtless when I begin with my lady 
 Vengeance confound her ! he will become revengeful,
 
 44 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 but before he can do so well, he will be harmless. 
 So, so. It should work." 
 
 The clock struck nine as he spoke, and he com- 
 pared it with his great tortoiseshell watch, and then 
 sat listening. The inn was very quiet, he doubted if 
 any other travellers were staying in it, especially as 
 the coach from London passed through early in the 
 day, but outside in the street there were signs of life. 
 The rustics bade each other good-night as they 
 passed ; a woman's laugh broke the air now and 
 again; sometimes a dog barked. And at last, above 
 these sounds, he heard a horse's hoofs clattering along 
 the street as though ridden fast. 
 
 "That," said his lordship, "may be he. 'Tis very 
 possible. For one of his Majesty's servants, he is 
 none too punctual." 
 
 As he spoke the horse drew up with still more clat- 
 ter at the porch below his window, and he heard a 
 clear, firm voice ask if Lord Fordingbridge had that 
 day arrived from London. And two or three moments 
 later his servant knocked at the door, and, entering, 
 said that Captain Morris was come. 
 
 "Has he supped ?" 
 
 " He says he requires nothing, my lord, but desires 
 to see you at once. He rides to Hertford to-night, he 
 bid the landlord say, and has but little time at his dis- 
 posal." 
 
 "So be it. Show him in," and a moment later 
 Captain Morris entered the room. 
 
 A man of something more than ^middle age, this 
 gentleman's features, aquiline and clear cut, presented 
 the appearance of belonging to one in whom great 
 ability as well as shrewdness and common sense were 
 combined. Tall and extremely thin, his undress rid-
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 45 
 
 ing-habit of dark blue embroidered with gold lace 
 set off his figure to extreme advantage, while the 
 light sword he carried by his side, his gold-trimmed 
 three-cornered hat with its black cockade, and his 
 long riding boots all served to give him the ap- 
 pearance of an extremely gentlemanly and elegant 
 man. 
 
 " Welcome, sir," said Lord Fordingbridge, advanc- 
 ing to meet him with extended hand, while at the same 
 time he noticed and took account of the clear grey 
 eyes, the thin lips, and aquiline nose of his visitor. 
 " Welcome, sir. I am glad you have been able to 
 reach here to-night. To-morrow I must resume my 
 journey. Be seated, I beg." 
 
 " The orders which I received from London," re- 
 plied Captain Morris, in a clear, refined voice that 
 corresponded perfectly with his appearance, "made it 
 imperative that I should call on you to-night. As 
 your lordship may be aware, in this locality I have 
 certain duties to perform which can be entrusted to no 
 one else." 
 
 " I am aware of it," Fordingbridge replied. Then 
 he said, " Before we commence our conversation, let 
 me offer you a glass of wine or brandy. The night is 
 raw, and you have doubtless ridden long." 
 
 Captain Morris bowed, said he would drink a glass 
 of wine, and, when he had poured it out of the de- 
 canter, let it stand by his side untouched for the mo- 
 ment. After which he remarked : 
 
 " I understand, my lord, that I am to receive from 
 your lips to-night some information of considerable 
 importance to his Majesty, touching those who have 
 been engaged in plotting against his security. May I 
 ask you to proceed at once with what you have to tell
 
 ,(5 DENOUNCED. 
 
 me? I have still some distance to ride to-night, and 
 also other work to do." 
 
 "Yes," answered Fordingbridge, "you have been 
 exactly informed. Yet how to tell how to begin, I 
 scarcely know. My object is to put in the King's 
 hands without, of course, letting it be known that 
 the information comes from me some facts relating 
 to several notorious Jacobites now sheltering in Lon- 
 don. Men who are," he continued, speaking rapidly, 
 "inimical to his Majesty's peace and security, hostile 
 to his rule, and, if I mistake not, bent at the present 
 moment in endeavouring in some way to effect a res- 
 cue of the Scotch lords now in confinement at the 
 Tower." 
 
 A slight smile rose upon his visitor's face as he 
 uttered these last words; then Captain Morris said 
 quietly : 
 
 "That is hardly likely to come to pass, I should 
 imagine. The Tower does not disgorge its victims 
 freely, certainly not by force. As for the Scotch 
 lords, I am afraid they will only quit the place for 
 their trials and afterwards for Tower Hill." 
 
 "Yet," remarked Lord Fordingbridge, "the at- 
 tempt may be made. Of the men I speak of, two are 
 desperate, and both fought at Culloden and the battles 
 that took place during the Pretender's march into 
 England. They will stop at nothing if," with a quick 
 glance at the other, "they are not themselves first 
 stopped." 
 
 " Give me their names, if you please," said Morris, 
 with military precision, as he produced from his 
 pocket a notebook, " and where they are to be found." 
 
 " Their names are Bertie Elphinston and Douglas 
 Sholto the former a kinsman of the Lord Balmarino.
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. 
 
 47 
 
 Both have lived in exile in France, serving in the 
 French King's army, one in the Garde du Roi at first, 
 and then in the Regiment of Picardy. The other, 
 Sholto, has served in the Mousquetaires." 
 
 "Their names," said Captain Morris, "are not in 
 the list," and he turned over the leaves of his note- 
 book carefully as he spoke. " But for you, my lord, 
 these men might have escaped justice. 'Tis strange 
 nothing was known of them." 
 
 " They crossed from France with Charles Edward. 
 Many names of those who accompanied him are prob- 
 ably not known. You may rely on my information. 
 I myself returned but from France some weeks ago. 
 I know them well." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Captain Morris. " Indeed ! 
 Your lordship doubtless came to support his Majesty 
 shortly after so many of his enemies crossed over." 
 
 " Precisely. But I will be frank. I should tell you 
 I am myself a converted perverted, some would say 
 Jacobite. My father, the late lord, died one, I do 
 not espouse his political faith." 
 
 Captain Morris bowed gravely ; then he said ; 
 
 " And you know, therefore, these gentlemen these 
 Scotch rebels." 
 
 " I know them very well. Shall I furnish you with 
 a description of their persons?" 
 
 " If you please ; " and as the captain replied to the 
 question, he perhaps unwittingly pushed the un- 
 tasted glass of wine farther away from him into thff 
 middle of the large table, where it remained un- 
 drunk. 
 
 After the appearance of Elphinston and Sholto had 
 been fully given and noted in the captain's book, he 
 asked :
 
 4 8 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "And where are these men to be found, Lord 
 Fordingbridge ? " 
 
 " They shelter themselves in the village of Wands- 
 worth, near London, in an old house on the Waterside, 
 as the strand there is called. It is the first reached 
 from the village." 
 
 Again this was written down, after which Captain 
 Morris rose to take his departure, but my lord's tale 
 was not yet told. Pointing to the chair the other had 
 risen from, he said : 
 
 " I beg you to be seated a moment longer. There 
 is still another the worst rebel of all of whom I 
 wish to apprise you. A priest." 
 
 " A priest ! You speak truly ; they are, indeed, his 
 Majesty's worst enemies. A Jesuit, of course?" 
 
 " Of course. With him it will be necessary to use 
 the most astute means in the Government's power to 
 first entrap him, and then to deal with him afterwards. 
 He should, indeed, be confined in total solitude, for- 
 bidden, above all things else, to hold any communica- 
 tion with other rebels." 
 
 " You may depend, Lord Fordingbridge, on all being 
 done that is necessary, short of execution." 
 
 " Short of execution ! " interrupted the other. 
 " Short of execution ! Why do not the scheming 
 Jesuits the mainspring of all, the cause of the very 
 rebellion but now crushed out merit execution as 
 well as those who routed Cope's forces and hewed down 
 Cumberland's men? Grand Dieu ! I should have 
 thought they would have been the first to taste the 
 halter." 
 
 " Possibly," replied the captain in passionless tones, 
 and with an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoul- 
 ders, " but at present no Jesuit priests have been exe-
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. 49 
 
 cuted. I doubt if any will be. The Government have 
 other punishments for them exile to the American 
 colonies, and so forth. Now, my lord, this priest's 
 name and abode." 
 
 " He is brother to Douglas Sholto, an elder brother 
 by another mother, yet they have ever gone hand in 
 hand together. Named Archibald, of from thirty-eight 
 to forty years of age. Crafty, dissimulating, and " 
 
 " That is of course," said Captain Morris. " Now, 
 tell me, if you please, where this man is to be found. 
 Is he also in hiding at Wandsworth ?" 
 
 " Nay," replied the other and for the first time 
 the informer seemed to hesitate in his answer. Yet 
 for a moment only, since again he proceeded with his 
 story. " He is disguised, of course ; passes as a Scotch 
 merchant having business between London and Paris, 
 and is known as Mr. Archibald." He paused again, 
 and Captain Morris's clear eyes rested on him as, in- 
 terrogatively, he said : 
 
 "Yes? And his abode ?" 
 
 " Is my own house. In Kensington-square." 
 
 This time the officer started perceptibly, and fixed 
 an even more penetrating glance upon the other than 
 before. Indeed, so apparent were both the start and 
 look of surprise on his face that the traitor before 
 him deemed it necessary to offer some excuse for his 
 strange revelation. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " in my own house. It has been 
 necessary for me to let him hide there awhile the bet- 
 ter to to entrap to deliver him to justice." 
 
 "Your lordship is indeed an ardent partisan," 
 coldly replied Captain Morris ; " the King is much to 
 be congratulated on so good a convert." 
 
 " The King will, I trust, reward my devotion. The
 
 c o DENOUNCED. 
 
 Stuarts have never shown any gratitude for all that 
 has been done for them by my family as much as 
 any. Now, Captain Morris," he went on, " I have told 
 you all that I have to tell. I have simply to ask that 
 in no way shall it be divulged as, indeed, I have the 
 promise of his Majesty's Ministers that nothing shall 
 be divulged as to the source whence this information 
 is derived. It is absolutely necessary that I appear 
 not at all in the matter." 
 
 " That is understood. The Secretary of State for 
 Scotch affairs, from whom I receive my instructions, 
 knows your lordship's desire, without a doubt." 
 
 " Precisely. It is with him I have been in communi- 
 cation. Yet, still, I would make one other request. It 
 is that Father Sholto may not be arrested in my house. 
 That would be painful to to Lady Fordingbridge, a 
 young and delicate woman. He can easily be taken 
 outside, since he quits the house fearlessly each day." 
 
 "That too," replied Morris, " I will make a note of 
 for the Secretary's consideration. I wish you now, my 
 lord, good evening," saying which he bowed and went 
 toward the door. 
 
 " If I could possibly prevail on you to refresh your- 
 self," said Fordingbridge, as he followed him to it, " I 
 should be happy," and he held out his hand as he 
 spoke. 
 
 But the captain, who seemed busy with his sash, or 
 sword belt, did not perhaps see the extended hand, and 
 muttering that he required no refreshment, withdrew 
 from the room. 
 
 Nevertheless, when he reached the bar in the pas- 
 sage below he asked the smiling landlady if she could 
 give him a glass of cordial to keep out the rawness of 
 the night air, and to fortify him for his ride. Also he
 
 MY LORD GOES OUT OF TOWN. rj 
 
 asked, in so polite a manner as to gratify the good 
 woman's heart, if he might scrawl a line at her table 
 whereat she sat sewing and surrounded by her bottles 
 and glasses. Buxom landladies rarely refuse polite- 
 nesses to persons of Captain Morris's position, espe- 
 cially when so captivatingly arrayed as he was in his 
 undress bravery, and as he wrote his message and 
 sealed it she thought how gallant a gentleman he was. 
 
 Then he looked up and enquired if there was any 
 ostler or idle postboy about the place who could ride 
 for him with a letter to-morrow morning to Dunstable, 
 and receiving a reply in the affirmative, paid for his 
 cordial, the hire of the next morning messenger and 
 his horse's feed, and so bade her a cheerful good- 
 night. 
 
 In the yard, while his animal was being brought 
 out, he looked with some little interest at his lordship's 
 travelling carriage, inspected the crest upon its panels 
 and the motto, and, tossing the fellow who brought 
 the nag a shilling, and seeing carefully to his holsters, 
 rode away into the night. 
 
 Upstairs, my lord, standing before the fire, noticed 
 the unemptied glass of wine, and, remembering that 
 the captain had not chosen to see his outstretched 
 hand, cursed him for an ill-conditioned Hanoverian 
 cur. Downstairs, the hostess, being a daughter of 
 Eve, turned over the captain's letter addressed to 
 "Josias Brandon, Esq., Justice of the Peace," and 
 would have given her ears, or at least a set of ear- 
 rings, to know what its contents were. Had she been 
 able to see them they probably would have given her 
 food for gossip for a twelvemonth, brief as they were. 
 They ran : 
 
 " The Viscount Fordingbridge passes through Dun-
 
 52 DENOUNCED. 
 
 stable to-morrow in his coach on his road to Cheshire. 
 From the time he does so until he returns through 
 your town to London, he is to be followed and watched 
 and never lost sight of. Let me be kept acquainted 
 with all his movements by special courier, if need- 
 ful. NOEL MORRIS, CAPTAIN."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 
 
 BETWEEN Lady Fordingbridge and her father a 
 better state of things existed than that which pre- 
 vailed between her and her husband. Indeed, Kitty, 
 who could not forgive the treachery of the man who 
 was now her husband, could not, at the same time, 
 bring herself to regard her father's share in that 
 treachery in as equally black a light. She knew that 
 it was the actual truth that he had been much in debt 
 to Simeon Larpent (as he was then), and she had per- 
 suaded herself also to believe that which he constantly 
 assured her was the truth and, perhaps, might have 
 been that Larpent would have proceeded against him 
 for his debt, in spite of the story Fane had been in- 
 structed to tell to the effect that the other was very 
 willing to continue their creditor. Moreover, old and 
 feeble as her father was now broken down and un- 
 able any longer to earn bread to put in their mouths, 
 she did not forget that, until the events of the last few 
 unhappy months, he had been an excellent parent to 
 her. For, hardly and roughly, by long days of weary 
 work, the bread had been earned somehow, the roof 
 kept over their heads, the clothes found for their backs. 
 Hour after hour, as she remembered, the worn-out old 
 Irish gentleman once the brilliant young military ad- 
 venturer had stood in the room set apart for the
 
 C. DENOUNCED. 
 
 fencing school, giving his lessons to men young enough 
 to be his sons; and also she recalled how every night, 
 it seemed to her, he was more fatigued than before, 
 his back a little more bowed, his weariness greater. 
 And as even after the marriage had taken place into 
 which she had been hoodwinked she thought of all 
 this, and of how he had grown older and more feeble 
 in his fight to keep the wolf from the door, she almost 
 brought herself to forgive him entirely for the great 
 wrong he had done her. 
 
 She sat thinking over all this on the morning after 
 her lord's departure for the country, while opposite to 
 her, toasting his feet in front of the fire, her father 
 sat. The old man was well dressed now ; he was com- 
 fortable and without care an astute Irish attorney 
 settled in Paris had tied the viscount up as tightly as 
 possible in the matter of jointure, settlements and 
 dowry for Kitty, not without remonstrance from Ford- 
 ingbridge, which was, however, unavailing; and out of 
 her own money she had provided for her father. And 
 as her eyes rested on him she felt that, badly as he had 
 behaved to her, she was still glad to know that his 
 laborious days were past. At this time Kitty was very 
 near to forgiving him altogether ; her strong, loving 
 heart remembering so much of all he had done for her 
 in the past, and forgetting almost all of his wrong- 
 doing. 
 
 " What do your letters say to ye, Kitty, this morn- 
 ing?" asked Doyle Fane, who, after more than forty 
 years' absence from his native land, still retained some 
 of its rich raciness of tone and. accent. " Ye've a big 
 post there before ye, me child." 
 
 " Very little of any importance," she replied. " The 
 night coach through St. Albans brings me a letter from
 
 KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 55 
 
 his lordship trusting I shall be happy during his en- 
 forced absence. Faugh ! Also there is one by the 
 French packet from Kathleen Muskerry. Her uncle, 
 the priest at Marly, is removed to St. Roch. Lady 
 Belrose, whose acquaintance I made a month ago at 
 Leicester House, writes desiring me to accompany her 
 to the masquerade at Vauxhall." 
 
 " Good, me child, good. And what for not ? 'Twill 
 do ye good to see some life, to " 
 
 " To see some life ! " she repeated, " see some life ! 
 In the midst of death all around us! " 
 
 " Death ! " the old man repeated. " Death ! Faith, 
 I did not know it. What death is there around 
 us?" 
 
 "Father!" she exclaimed, looking at him, "is 
 there not death all around threatening those whom 
 we love whom we loved once ? Do you not know 
 that London is at the present moment full of followers 
 of the unhappy prince, who, if they are caught, must 
 be doomed ? Do you not know that the Tower, New- 
 gate, the New Gaol over the water in Southwark, is 
 crowded with such men, all of whom have soon to 
 stand their trial for high treason men of whom we 
 have known many, some of whom were your pupils ? 
 Father, this is no time for masquerades." 
 
 For a moment the old man gazed at her with sol- 
 emn eyes, as though endeavouring to penetrate her 
 mind, to discover if behind her words there lay any 
 hidden meaning; then he asked: 
 
 " Are there any any whom we know particularly 
 well among these threatened men ? You may tell me, 
 Kitty. You may trust me now." 
 
 "Is not Father Sholto in jeopardy?" she asked, 
 while her eyes also rested on him much as his had
 
 -5 DENOUNCED. 
 
 dwelt on her. Perhaps she, too, was wondering if he 
 guessed to whom, more than all others, her remarks 
 applied. " If he were discovered would he not share 
 the gaol, if not the scaffold ? He told us yesterday 
 that there was a newly-made law against any Jesuit 
 priests from France who should be found in Eng- 
 land." * 
 
 "Are there any any others?" he almost whis- 
 pered. But still her clear blue eyes regarded him, 
 and she spoke no word. 
 
 " Well, well," he said a moment after. " Perhaps 
 it may be, even after so many years, that I do not de- 
 serve your confidence. Yet, Kitty, I was nigh as 
 much deceived in some things as you were. Child," 
 he said, leaning across the table as he spoke, " I swear 
 to you I thought that man who came to us was, in 
 truth, the priest, the curt of Moret. How could I 
 know he was a paid creature of Larpent's, a vile cheat, 
 instead of the man who, as I supposed, had tied the 
 hands of Bertie El ? " 
 
 " Stop," said his daughter, " stop ! Don't mention 
 that again. Let it be done with, forgotten ; dead and 
 buried. It is past ! Over ! I I am Lord Fording- 
 bridge's wife." 
 
 " Yet I must ask. I must know. Nay, I do know. 
 Fordingbridge hinted as much to me ere he set out. 
 Kitty," and now his voice sank to a whisper that none 
 but she could have heard, even though in the room, 
 "is he in London ?" 
 
 "Yes," she whispered also, softly as a woman's 
 whisper ever is. "Yes. He is here. Oh, father ! for 
 the love of 'God, betray us him no more. For if 
 
 * See Appendix, note B " Jesuit Priests in England."
 
 KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 
 
 57 
 
 you do, it will not end this time with broken hearts, 
 but with death." 
 
 "Betray you," he said, "betray you again! Why 
 will you not believe me once more ? See, Kitty, see 
 here," and as he spoke he rose from his chair and 
 stood before her. " I swear to you that I am true in 
 spite in spite of what I once did, partly in ignorance 
 unwittingly. I myself loved Elphinston and always 
 despised Larpent. And I did honestly, I did believe 
 that he had married Mademoiselle Baufremont." 
 
 "Well, she said, " well, he had not. Enough of 
 that. And, since you ask me to trust you once again 
 as I trusted you before, I answer you remember his 
 life, as well as Douglas Sholto's, are in your hands 
 he is in London. Both are here." 
 
 " Tis madness," he murmured, " madness. For, 
 Kitty, as sure as he is here he will be betrayed. Ford- 
 ingbridge will denounce him." 
 
 " Alas-! " she replied, almost wringing her hands, 
 "alas! I fear as much myself. Yet Father Sholto 
 says not that it is impossible. For, he declares, 
 should harm come to either of them through him, he 
 will cause him also to be denounced. He knows some 
 secret as to Fordingbridge's doings that, he says, 
 would bring him to the block for a surety, which se- 
 cret, if he turns traitor, he will use most remorselessly. 
 And, do what he may, at least he is harmless now. 
 He will be in Cheshire for a month. By that time I 
 pray that both the others may be beyond the seas." 
 
 "Have you seen him?" he asked, still in a low 
 voice. 
 
 He knew that in London at this time walls almost 
 had ears, and that every footman or waiting-maid 
 might be a spy of the Government especially in a
 
 58 DENOUNCED. 
 
 house but recently re-opened after many years of dis- 
 use, and, consequently, possessing a staff of servants 
 new to their employers and taking neither interest nor 
 sympathy in their affairs. Also he knew that, in the 
 garb of servants, many a Government agent was care- 
 fully watching every action of his or her temporary 
 employers. London especially had but recently re- 
 covered from too great a fright to cease as yet to 
 fear for its safety, and saw a bugbear in many harm- 
 less strangers now in its midst; the house of a noble- 
 man returned recently from France the birthplace of 
 the late invasion and known to be a Catholic, would, 
 therefore, be a particularly likely object to be subjected 
 to supervision, quiet yet effectual. 
 
 "No," she replied; "no, I have not seen him. 
 God forbid I should. And if I did, the only words I 
 could, I think, find heart to utter would be to beseech 
 him to fly at once. Oh ! father, father, I dread some 
 awful calamity, though I know not in what form or 
 shape it may come." 
 
 As she spoke, a tap was heard at the door, and, a 
 second afterwards, Father Sholto entered the room, 
 while so much had her ladyship's fears and tremors 
 overcome her and her father that both exclaimed at 
 once, in the same words, " Is all well ? " 
 
 "In so far as I know," he replied, after having ex- 
 changed morning greetings with them. " As well as 
 all will ever be. Why do you ask ? Have you reason 
 to dread aught ? " 
 
 "No, no," Kitty replied. "Still, I know not why, 
 am strangely uneasy, strangely nervous to-day. 
 Some feeling of impending ills seems to hang over 
 me." 
 
 " Yet," said Sholto, " if omens are to be supposed
 
 KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 
 
 59 
 
 to have any power, no such feeling should trouble you 
 to-day. Kitty, I bear good news " 
 
 " Good news ! " she exclaimed. From 
 
 " From an acquaintance of mine one who is in the 
 office of the Scotch Secretary of State. Nay," he went 
 on, seeing the look of disappointment on her face, and 
 knowing she had expected matter of a different kind, 
 "'tis worth hearing. Among the names of those now 
 in London for whom diligent search is being made 
 the names of those who, if found, are doomed 
 three do not appear three in whom we are con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Lady Fordingbridge and 
 her father together. " They are " 
 
 "Our two friends across the river and and 
 myself." 
 
 " Therefore you may escape at once ? " she asked. 
 "All of you? There is nothing to keep you here in 
 England the Cause is broken, it can never be regained 
 now you can all depart in peace ?" 
 
 " Yes," he said, " we can." But letting his eye fall 
 on Fane, he took her a little apart and said : 
 
 " Kitty, we have the chance of getting across the 
 water ; at least, we are safe at present. I, you know, 
 can go at any moment ; there is nothing to detain me. 
 The glorious work, the accomplishment of which I 
 crossed over to see, will never be done now I may as 
 well go. But shall the others go too ? It rests with 
 you to say." 
 
 "With me," she said, looking up at him; "with 
 me ? Why, how should I prevent them going ? Oh 
 Archibald, if I could see them I would beg them on 
 my knees to go while there is yet time." 
 
 "One will not leave England without the other;
 
 50 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Douglas would never go without Bertie. And, Kitty, 
 Elphinston will not go yet." 
 
 " Not yet ! Why not ? What does he tarry for ? 
 Is it to take vengeance on my husband, to to " 
 
 <% 'To see you." 
 
 " To see me," she said, clasping her hands convul- 
 sively together, while from her soft blue eyes there 
 shone so bright a light that Father Sholto knew how 
 deeply the love still dwelt in her heart for the poor 
 wanderer and outcast ; " to see me. Oh ! say, does 
 he forgive has he sent me one word of pardon, of 
 pity ? " 
 
 " Ay, child, he forgives, if he has aught to forgive. 
 Those are his words. Yet, he bids me say, he must 
 see you, speak with you ; then then he will go away 
 for ever. Now," Sholto went on, " 'tis for you to de- 
 cide. If you see him, there is naught to prevent his 
 going; only I must tell you, it is my duty as a priest, 
 though you need but little caution from me remem- 
 ber this man loves you now as much as he ever loved 
 you, and you are another man's wife." 
 
 Fane had left the room when the others drew apart 
 perhaps he guessed that Sholto had some message 
 for his daughter so that now they could speak at 
 ease. For a moment Lady Fordingbridge seemed lost 
 in thought as though struggling between conflicting 
 desires, the one to see again the man she loved, the 
 other to know that he was safe, a third to remember 
 that, however hateful to her Lord Fordingbridge was, 
 she was still his wife. Then suddenly she said: 
 
 "You are right. 'Tis best we should not meet. 
 Yet yet you say he will not quit England without 
 our doing so." 
 
 "I fear not. And time is precious. Remember,
 
 KATE MAKES AN APPOINTMENT. 6l 
 
 though the names are not in the list, they may be at 
 any moment. Or he, or both of them, 'may be de- 
 nounced. Many of Cumberland's and Cope's regi- 
 ments are back in London ; they may be recognised by 
 some against whom they fought, and, if that were the 
 case, their chance of existence would be small. Kitty, 
 if you are strong enough, as you should be, 'tis almost 
 best that you should see him. Then he can go in 
 peace." 
 
 " I am strong enough," she replied. " Have no 
 fear of me ; I u have none of myself. Yet, how can it 
 be ? He cannot come here I cannot go to him. But 
 oh ! to hear from his own lips that he forgave me, that 
 he would think of me sometimes without bitterness." 
 
 " What answer shall I give him, then ? " 
 
 " Does he await one ? " 
 
 " Eagerly. If you bade him meet you in George's 
 Throne-room he would contrive to be there." 
 
 "When do you see him again ?" she asked. 
 
 11 To-night, after dark." 
 
 " So be it. To-night you shall bear him a message 
 from me. Now, leave me a little while. At dinner 
 we will meet again. Then, then, I will ask you to 
 carry a note to him." 
 
 When she was alone she went to the standish and, 
 taking pens and paper, wrote two notes. The first was 
 easily despatched ; it simply told Lady Belrose she 
 would accompany her and her party to Vauxhall on 
 the following night. The next took longer, caused 
 her much deliberation. 
 
 She pined to see the man whom in her own heart 
 she accused herself of having deceived; yet she 
 dreaded the hour when she should stand face to face 
 with him. Alas ! how could she look into his eyes
 
 6 2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 eyes that she feared would look back but sternly upon 
 her and plead for forgiveness, remembering that, had 
 she but trusted and believed in him, they who now 
 met as strangers would by this time have been man 
 and wife a twelvemonth. Yet, it was not only to 
 gratify her own desire to once more touch his hand 
 and hear his voice, even though that voice should re- 
 proach her, that she desired to see him. It was also 
 to save him, since he would leave the country, he had 
 said, after they had once met. 
 
 So, at last, she decided it should be so. She would 
 see him once, would take his pardon from his own lips 
 Sholto had said that he forgave her and then she 
 would bid him go and consult nothing but his own 
 safety and that of his true and tried friend. 
 
 She took the pen in her hand again and drew the 
 paper towards her, but, at first, she knew not what to 
 say. In the previous letter she had sent him the words 
 and ideas had come easily enough, for then she was 
 writing a straightforward narrative with, in it, a sad 
 plea for forgiveness. But now it was different. She 
 was making an assignation with a man she had once 
 loved once! she was deceiving her husband. 
 
 " Bah ! " she said, as this thought rose to her mind. 
 " If 'tis deception let it be so. Out of his deceit to 
 me is borne mine to him." 
 
 Whereon once more she pondered a moment on 
 what she should say, and then wrote : 
 
 " Lady Fordingbridge will be at the masquerade at 
 Vauxhall to-morrow night. May she hope she will 
 hear none but gentle words there ? " 
 
 That was all.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 
 
 THE rejoicings into which London broke out when, 
 at last, the Scottish rebellion was decisively crushed 
 caused Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens to be, perhaps, 
 more frequented in the warm spring and summer of 
 1746 than they had ever been previously. Indeed, 
 after the fright which had fallen upon the capital 
 when the news came that the Highland troops were 
 at Derby and within four days' march of London, it 
 was not very astonishing that the inhabitants should, 
 on the removal of that terror, give themselves up to 
 wholesale amusement. Six months before, imminent 
 ruin stared them in the face ; the Bank of England, by 
 that time regarded as being almost as stable an insti- 
 tution as it is now considered, had only escaped closing 
 its doors by the oft-quoted artifice of paying the de- 
 mands made on it in sixpences. Regiments engaged 
 in foreign campaigns Ligonier's Horse and Hawley's 
 and Rich's Dragoons had been hurried home from 
 Williamstadt ; Admiral Vernon and Commodores Bos- 
 cawen and Smith were each at sea with a squadron 
 looking for ships carrying the invaders; while fifty 
 merchantmen, styled "armed cruisers," were patrol- 
 ling the Channels round our shores. Also, as an out- 
 come of the panic, the inhabitants of London had pur- 
 chased for the army about to take the field against the
 
 64 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Pretender, 12,000 pairs of breeches and the same num- 
 ber of pairs of woollen gloves, 12,000 shirts, 10,000 
 woollen caps and pairs of stockings, and 9,000 pairs 
 of woollen spatterdashes; while, not to be outdone by 
 the other citizens, the managers of the then existing 
 London theatres offered to form the members of their 
 various companies into volunteers attached to the City 
 regiment. 
 
 But, ere the springtime had come, the invasion was 
 over, the danger past. The young Duke of Cumber- 
 land, fresh from his triumphs in Flanders, had not 
 only destroyed the rebel army, but had taken terrible 
 and bloody vengeance upon all who had opposed him. 
 Therefore London indeed, all England slept again 
 in safety at night, and with the arrival of summer had 
 plunged with greater fervour than ever into all its 
 usual enjoyments. Amongst the enjoyments of the 
 former none were more popular than those of Rane- 
 lagh and Vauxhall Gardens, the latter being more 
 generally known and spoken of at that period as the 
 Spring Gardens. Here, on the warm evenings which 
 May brought with it, until the fashionable world de- 
 parted for its country seats, or for Bath, Epsom, or 
 Tunbridge, went on one continual round of pleasures 
 and festivities one night a masquerade, another a 
 concert, vocal and instrumental, where, among others, 
 the mysterious Tenducci whose sex was always mat- 
 ter of discussion sang and warbled, sometimes in a 
 man's voice, sometimes in a woman's; illuminations 
 took place every evening, and, as they died out and 
 the company departed, the nightingales might be heard 
 singing in the neighbouring fields and groves. 
 
 It was on one of these warm May nights that the 
 wherry which brought Lady Belrose's party from Pirn-
 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 65 
 
 lico Fields to the Spring Gardens arrived at the latter 
 place, while, as the boat touched the shore, from the 
 gardens might already be heard the orchestra playing. 
 In the wherry sat, of course, Lady Belrose herself, a 
 still young and still good-looking woman, who, being a 
 widow, thought herself entitled to always have in at- 
 tendance upon her some beau or other, and who, to- 
 night, had brought two, one a young lad from Oxford, 
 the other almost as young a man, Sir Charles Ames. 
 By her side sat Lady Fordingbridge, whose plain even- 
 ing frock contrasted somewhat strongly with that of 
 her friend, who was arrayed in a gorgeous brocade 
 silk, while one of her cavaliers carried over his arm 
 a green velvet mantle laced with gold, in case the 
 evening turned cold and she should .have occasion 
 for it. 
 
 " I protest," said her ladyship, as stepping ashore 
 she put on her mask, in which she was copied by the 
 others " I protest the very sound of the fiddles 
 squeaking makes me long for a dance. Mr. Fane," 
 she said, turning to that gentleman, who formed the 
 last member of the party, "am I to have you for a 
 partner to-night ?" 
 
 Fane bowed and responded politely that he only 
 trusted his old age and stiff joints would not prevent 
 him from making himself acceptable, on at least one 
 occasion, to her ladyship; while Sir Charles Ames, 
 turning to Kitty, desired to know if she would so far 
 favour him as to give him a dance. 
 
 But Lady Belrose, who had already gathered from 
 her friend that she only made one of the party be- 
 cause of a serious and grave interview which she antici- 
 pated having with a gentleman whom she might meet 
 at the ffa, here interposed and, in a few well-chosen
 
 66 DENOUNCED. 
 
 words, gave the baronet to understand that to dance 
 was not Lady Fordingbridge's desire that evening. 
 "She is not well," she said, "and will simply be an 
 onlooker. Meanwhile, doubtless I can find you a 
 sufficiency of partners among other friends." To this 
 the young man protested that there was no need for 
 Lady Belrose to endeavour to find him partners among 
 her friends, since, if she would but condescend to be 
 his partner, he could not possibly desire any other, 
 and so, with these interchanges of politeness, they en- 
 tered the gardens. 
 
 On this particular night at Vauxhall the opening 
 masquerade of the season the fashionable world, as 
 well as those who, though not in that world them- 
 selves, loved to gaze on the happier beings who were 
 of it, assembled in large numbers and in a variety 
 of costumes. Scaramouches in their black dresses, 
 toques and masks, with rush lances in their hands, 
 mingled with dancing girls clad in the Turkish cos- 
 tumes still known in these days as " Roxanas," in 
 memory of the infamous woman who had first worn 
 this garb ; shepherdesses walked arm-in-arm with men 
 dressed as grave and reverend clergymen ; assumed 
 victims of the Inquisition, invested in the San Benito, 
 pirouetted and twirled with brazen-faced and under- 
 clad Iphigenias and Phrynes for the world was none 
 too modest in those days ! mock soldiers, knights 
 and satyrs, harlequins, and men in wizard's garments 
 danced and drank, laughed and shouted with milk- 
 maids, nuns, and Joans of Arc. And to testify, per- 
 haps, the fact that they had not forgotten the dan- 
 gers through which the country had recently passed, 
 and also, perhaps, to hurl one last taunt at their 
 crushed and broken foes, many of the maskers had
 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 67 
 
 arrayed themselves in the garbs of their late enemies 
 for some strutted round and round the orchestra 
 pavilion and banqueting room dressed as Highlanders 
 or French officers, others as miserable Scotch peas- 
 ants having in their hands flails and reaping hooks. 
 Others, again, had even attempted to portray the 
 character of the unhappy Charles Edward, now in 
 hiding in the Scotch wilds, and, as they danced and 
 sang or drank their glasses of ale and ate their two- 
 penny slices of hung-beef, and endeavoured even by 
 their conversation to ape what they imagined to be 
 the Scotch dialect. At the same time, outside all this 
 seething, painted, and bedizened crowd were many 
 others of the better classes, such as those who formed 
 Lady Belrose's party, or visitors of a similar degree, 
 who contented themselves by concealing their identity 
 with masks, vizards, and dominos, or with hoods and 
 laces. 
 
 In a somewhat retired spot beneath where stood a 
 noble statue of Handel, now nearing his last days, 
 executed by Roubiliac, and at the back of which 
 were a small wooded green and bosquet in which were 
 many arbours, Lady Belrose and her friends sat down 
 to watch the kaleidoscopic crowd. Here, Sir Charles 
 Ames, summoning a waiter, bade him bring refresh- 
 ments for the party viz., some iced fruits and a flask 
 of champagne and they being partaken of, he in- 
 vited her ladyship to honour him by becoming his 
 partner in a quadrille de contredanse, a new style of 
 dancing introduced into the French ballets a year or 
 so before, and but just come over to London. This the 
 sprightly lady accepted at once, having already per- 
 fected herself in the new divertissement under Duhar- 
 nel's tuition ; but, on her other cavalier desiring also
 
 gg DENOUNCED. 
 
 the honour of Lady Fordingbridge's hand, Kitty re- 
 fused, on the ground that she knew not the dance, and 
 neither was she very well. 
 
 " I* faith, Kate," said Lady Belrose, as she shook 
 her sack over her great balloon-shaped hoop and fast- 
 ened her mask more tightly under her hood, "yet have 
 you lost but little to-night. The quadrille is well 
 enough in our own houses or on our country lawns; 
 here, I protest, the noise, the dust, and the stench of 
 the oil lamps, to say nothing of the unknown and, 
 doubtless, unclean creatures with whom we rub shoul- 
 ders and touch hands, do not recommend it over- 
 much. However, lead me to it, Sir Charles, since you 
 will have it so," and in another moment she, with her 
 partner and the others who formed the sets, were bow- 
 ing and curtseying to each other. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Wynn, Lady Belrose's second string, 
 having begged that he might be allowed to find a part- 
 ner and himself join in a set, since Lady Fordingbridge 
 was so obdurate (he, too, had been learning the new 
 dance from Monsieur Duharnel), took himself off, so 
 that Kitty and her father were left alone together. 
 And now it was that she, after scanning each male 
 figure that was "more than common tall," began to 
 tremble a little in her limbs and to feel as though she 
 were about to faint. For in that portion of the crowd 
 which was not dancing and which still followed its 
 leaders round and round the orchestra pavilion, there- 
 by illustrating the words of Bloomfield, a poet of the 
 period, who wrote : 
 
 First we traced the gay circle all round, 
 Ay and then we went round it again 
 
 she saw two forms that, she doubted not, were those
 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 69 
 
 for whom she looked partly in eagerness, partly with 
 nervousness. 
 
 These maskers did not walk side by side, but one 
 behind the other, and, possibly, to ordinary onlookers 
 would not have appeared to have any connection with 
 each other. Yet Kitty knew very well that, insepara- 
 ble in almost all else, they were now equally so. The 
 first, who was the tallest, was clad in a costume, per- 
 haps unique that night in the Spring Gardens, perhaps 
 almost unique among the many costumes that have 
 ever been assumed since first masquerades were in- 
 vented. It was that of the headsman. Arrayed in the 
 garb of that dismal functionary, a rusty black velvet 
 suit, with the breeches and black woollen stockings to 
 match, the masker might yet have failed to inform 
 those who saw him of the character he wished to por- 
 tray, had it not been for at least one other accessory. 
 On his back, strapped across it, he carried the long, 
 narrow-bladed axe used for decapitation, its handle 
 fringed and tasselled with leathern thongs. Yet there 
 were other tokens also of the part he represented. In 
 a girdle round his waistcoat he bore a formidable knife 
 having a blade a foot long and an inch and a half deep 
 the knife with which the doomsman finished his ghastly 
 task if the axe failed to do its duty, as had too often 
 happened. His mask, too, was not that of the ordi- 
 nary reveller at such places as this, not a mask made 
 ostensibly to conceal the features, yet, as often as not, 
 revealing them almost as clearly as though it had not 
 been assumed; instead, it was long and full, covering 
 not only the eyes and the bridge of the nose, but also 
 the whole of the upper part of the face, and leaving 
 only visible the lower jaw and the two ends of a thick 
 brown moustache that hung below it. Alone by that
 
 ~ o DENOUNCED. 
 
 moustache would Kitty have known the wearer, if by 
 no other sign. It had been pressed too often against 
 her own lips for her to forget it ! Yet, also, would she 
 have known him without it. His companion, the man 
 who followed after him, was not so conspicuous by his 
 appearance. He, indeed, wrapped in a long brown 
 woollen cloak which descended to his shoes and must 
 have been more than warm on such an evening as this, 
 with at his side a Scotch claymore, or broadsword, and 
 on his head a Scotch bonnet the mask, of course, 
 being worn passed among the crowd as an excellent 
 representative of their now despised and fallen ene- 
 mies. Yet, had that crowd known that amongst them 
 stalked in reality one whose prowess had been terribly 
 conspicuous when exhibited against their own soldiers, 
 they might not have gazed as approvingly as they now 
 did on Douglas Sholto. 
 
 As Kitty regarded these two figures still trembling 
 and feeling as though she were about to faint she 
 saw the eyes of the former one fix themselves upon 
 her, and observed him hesitate for a moment ere con- 
 tinuing his course, then, in an instant, he went on 
 again in the stream that continued to revolve round 
 the orchestra pavilion. And she knew that a few mo- 
 ments would bring him again before her. 
 
 " Father," she said, nerving herself to that inter- 
 view which she so ardently desired, yet which, woman- 
 like, she almost feared now, " the green behind looks 
 cool and invitjng, especially now that the sun is gone 
 and the lamps are lit. I will stroll down there awhile 
 and take the air. Meanwhile, rest you here there is 
 some more champagne in the flask and keep these 
 seats until the others come back. The contredanse 
 will be finished just now."
 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 71 
 
 " Mind no gallant treats ye rudely, child. The 
 crowd is none too orderly as regards some of its mem- 
 bers. Ladies alone, and without a cavalier, may be 
 roughly accosted." 
 
 " Have no fear," she said, " I can protect myself. I 
 shall be back ere Lady Belrose takes part in the next 
 dance," saying which she turned and went down the 
 walk that led between the grassy lawn and the arbours, 
 in each of which now twinkled the many-coloured oil 
 lamps. And, as she so turned, that portion of the 
 maskers in which was the man dressed as the heads- 
 man passed by the chair she had just vacated, and she 
 knew that he must have seen her rise and move away. 
 
 A few moments later she was aware that such was 
 the case. A heavy tread sounded behind her she had 
 now advanced considerably down the path and had al- 
 most reached a rustic copse, in which were two or three 
 small arbours another instant, and the voice she 
 longed yet feared to hear, the voice that she thought 
 trembled a little as it spoke, addressed her: 
 
 "Is Lady Fordingbridge not afraid to separate 
 herself from her party thus?" she heard Bertie El- 
 phinston say surely his voice quivered as he spoke. 
 " Or does pity prompt her to do so ; pity for an- 
 other?" 
 
 " Lady Fordingbridge," she replied, knowing that 
 her own voice was not well under control, " has no 
 fear of anyone, unless it be of those whom, all unwit- 
 tingly, she has injured." Then, scarcely knowing what 
 she said, or whether her words were intelligible, and 
 feeling at a loss what else to say, she gazed up at him 
 and exclaimed, "You come to these festivities in a 
 strange garb, sir. Surely the executioner's is scarcely 
 a suitable one for a night of rejoicing."
 
 72 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Yet suitable to him who wears it. Perhaps 'tis 
 best that I who may apprehend " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Elphinston ! " she exclaimed suddenly, 
 interrupting him, " it was not to hear such words as 
 these that I came here to-night. You know why I 
 have sought this meeting; have you nought to say to 
 me but this ?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " yes. But let us not stand here 
 upon the path exposed to the gaze of all the crowd. 
 Come, let us enter this arbour. We shall be unob- 
 served there." 
 
 She followed him into the one by which they were 
 standing, and for she felt her limbs were trembling 
 beneath her sank on to a rustic bench. And he, 
 standing above her, went on : 
 
 " The letter that you sent to me asked that I 
 should pity and forgive you. Kate, we meet again, 
 perhaps for the last time on earth ; let me say at once, 
 there is nothing for me to forgive. If fault there was, 
 then it was mine. Let mine, too, be the blame. I 
 should have told you that Elphinston of Glenbervy 
 was about to marry Mademoiselle Baufremont. Yet, 
 he had sworn me to silence, had bidden me, upon our 
 distant kinsmanship, to hold my peace, had sought my 
 assistance to enable him to wed the woman whom he 
 loved. How could I disclose his secret even to you ? 
 How could I foresee that a scheming devil would turn 
 so small a thing to so great an account ? " 
 
 "But," she said, gazing up at him and noticing 
 for both had instinctively unmasked at the same time 
 how worn his face was, how, alas ! in his brown hair 
 there ran grey threads though he was still so young; 
 " but why, to all those letters I sent, was no answer 
 vouchsafed ? I thought from one or from the other
 
 "THE BIRD THAT DANCED THE RIGADOON." 73 
 
 some reply must surely come. Have you forgotten 
 how, for many years now, we four Douglas and Archi- 
 bald, you and I had all been as brothers and sister 
 
 until until," she broke off, and then continued : 
 " how we had vowed that between us all there should 
 be a link and bond of friendship that should be in- 
 cessable ? " 
 
 "I have forgotten nothing," he replied, "nothing. 
 No word that was ever spoken between us, no vow, nor 
 promise ever made." 
 
 Again the soft blue eyes were turned to him, im- 
 ploringly it seemed ; begging by their glance that he 
 should spare her. And, ceasing to speak of his re- 
 membrance of the past, he continued : " Circumstances, 
 strange though they were, prevented any one of us 
 from receiving your letters or from answering them 
 in time. I was lying ill of Roman fever at the English 
 College ; Archibald Sholto was in Tuscany in the train 
 of Charles Edward, Cardinal Aquaviva having pro- 
 vided their passports ; Douglas was with De Roque- 
 feuille, and received your letter only on his return to 
 Paris, where it had been sent back to him. Kate, in 
 that stirring time, when the prince was passing from 
 Rome to Picardy, was it strange no answer should 
 come ? " 
 
 " No, no," she replied. " No," and as she spoke 
 she clasped both of her hands in her lap, and bent her 
 head to hide her tears. Then she muttered, yet not so 
 low but that he could hear her : " Had I but waited ! 
 but trusted ! " 
 
 " It would have been best," he said very gently. 
 And as he spoke, as though in mockery of their sad 
 hearts, many of the maskers went by laughing and 
 jesting, and the quadrille being finished the band was
 
 74 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 playing the merry old tune of " The Bird that danced 
 the Rigadoon." 
 
 " You hear the air ? " she said, looking up suddenly 
 again. "You hear? Oh! my heart will break." 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "I hear."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " FORTUNE ! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." 
 
 THAT song in the old days in the Rue Trousse- 
 Vache had been the air which Bertie Elphinston had 
 whistled many a time to Kate to let her know that he 
 was about to enter the " salle d'escrime," or to make 
 her look out of the window and see the flowers he had 
 brought her from his mother's garden in the suburbs. 
 Also, on a Sunday morning early, he had often stood 
 beneath the window of her room and had piped the 
 " Rigadoon " to remind her that it was time for them 
 to be away for their day's outing. For in those happy 
 times alas ! but a year ago these two fond, happy 
 lovers had spent every Sabbath together and alone. 
 Arm in arm the whole day; or, when the soft summer 
 nights fell over the Bois de Boulogne, or the woods of 
 St. Germain or the Forest of Fontainebleau, his arm 
 round her waist and her soft fair head upon his 
 shoulder, they had wandered together, taking a light 
 meal here and there at any roadside auberge they hap- 
 pened on, and then both going back to supper, at her 
 father's little house, where, as they had done all day, 
 they talked of the future that was before them. 
 
 And now the future had come and they were 
 parted for ever ! No wonder that the old French 
 song which had found its way to England grated 
 harshly on their ears. 
 6
 
 7 6 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "Thank God, 'tis finished," he said, as the orches- 
 tra struck up a dance tune next. " For us, to our 
 hearts, it awakens memories best left to slumber for 
 ever." Then sitting down by her side on the rustic 
 bench, he continued : " Kate, you wrote in your letter 
 to me," and he touched his breast involuntarily as he 
 spoke, so that she knew he bore it about him, " that 
 there was private treachery to be feared. Is it to be 
 feared from him ? " 
 
 "Alas!" she whispered, "I almost dread 'tis so. 
 He is not satisfied yet ; he 
 
 " He should be ! He has all I wanted." 
 
 " To injure you," she continued, " would be, as he 
 knows, the best way to strike at me." 
 
 " To strike at you ? " 
 
 " Yes, to repay me for my scorn and contempt 
 my hate of him." 
 
 " You hate him ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " From the depths of my heart. How can it be 
 otherwise ? His treachery when I learnt it made 
 me despise him ; his conduct since has turned my 
 contempt to hatred. Oh," she exclaimed, " it is 
 awful, terrible for a woman to hate her husband ! 
 Yet what cause have I to do aught else ? When he 
 speaks though I have long since ceased to reply to 
 anything he says his words are nothing but sneers 
 and scorn ; sometimes of you, sometimes of me. And 
 he gloats over having separated us, of having taken 
 your place, while at the same time he is so bitter 
 against me that, if he dared, I believe he would kill 
 me. Moreover, he fears your vengeance. That is 
 another reason why, if he could betray you to the 
 Government, he would." 
 
 1 'Tis by betrayal alone that we can be injured,"
 
 FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." 
 
 77 
 
 Bertie said, thoughtfully. " None of our names are 
 known, nor in the proscribed list. Yet how can he 
 do it ? He it was who planned the attack upon the 
 Fubbs * to be made when the Elector crossed from 
 Holland ; he who disseminated the tracts, nay, had 
 them printed, counselling his taking off. He was 
 worse than any no honest Jacobite ever stooped to 
 assassination ! and many of us know it." 
 
 " Be sure," she replied, " that what he could do 
 would be done in secret ; Bert Mr. Elphinston, who 
 is that man who has passed the arbour twice or more, 
 and looks always so fixedly at you ? " 
 
 " I know not," he replied, " yet he has been ever 
 near Douglas and me he and another man since 
 we entered the gardens. Perhaps a Government spy. 
 Well, he can know nought of me." 
 
 The man she had mentioned was a tall, stoutly- 
 built individual, plainly enough clad in an old rusty 
 black suit of broadcloth, patched black stockings 
 and thick-soled shoes with rusty iron buckles upon 
 them, and bore at his side a stout hanger. He might 
 be a spy, it was true, but he might also have been 
 anything else, a low follower of the worst creatures 
 who infested the gardens, a gambling-hell tout, or a 
 bagnio pimp. Yet his glance from under his vizard 
 was keen and penetrating as it was fixed on them, 
 but especially on Elphinston, each time he passed the 
 summer house wherein they sat. 
 
 But now their conversation, which to both seemed 
 all too short and to have left so much unsaid, was in- 
 terrupted by the advent of Douglas Sholto, who came 
 
 * The remarkable name of one of the royal yachts of 
 George II.
 
 78 DENOUNCED. 
 
 swiftly down the shell-strewn path, and, seeing them 
 in the arbour, paused and entered at once. 
 
 " Kitty," he said, grasping her hand, " this is not 
 the greeting I had intended to give you, though it's 
 good to look upon your bonnie face again. But, 
 Bertie, listen. We are watched, followed, perhaps 
 known; indeed, I am sure of it. One of those fellows 
 who have kept near to us, and whom we saw at Wands- 
 worth as we set forth I see the other down the path 
 spoke but now to three soldiers of the Coldstreams. 
 Perhaps 'twas to identify us ; you remember the First 
 Battalion at Culloden," he added grimly ; " perhaps 
 to call on them for help. Bertie, we must be away at 
 once." 
 
 " Tis as I suspected," said Lady Fordingbridge, 
 now pale as ashes and trembling from head to foot. 
 " My words have too soon come true. How,- how has 
 he done it ? " 
 
 " Farewell, Kate," said Bertie Elphinston, " we 
 must, indeed, hasten if this is true. Yet first let me 
 take you to your father and friends. Then," with a 
 firm set look on his face, he said, " Douglas and I 
 must see our way through this, if 'tis as he suspe-cts. 
 Come, Kate." 
 
 " No, no," she said, imploringly. " Wait not to 
 think of me. Begone while there is yet time. Lose 
 no moment. Farewell, farewell. W T e may meet again 
 yet." 
 
 But ere another word could be said a fresh inter- 
 ruption occurred. From either end of the path that 
 ran between the arbour and the lawn, both spies for 
 such they soon proclaimed themselves advanced to 
 where the others were ; the first, the one of whom 
 Kate had spoken, coming back from the end by the
 
 " FORTUNE ! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE.' 
 
 79 
 
 bosquet, the other from the platform where the orches- 
 tra and dancing were. And in the deepening twilight, 
 for it was now almost dark, the three soldiers of the 
 Coldstreams came too, followed by two others belong- 
 ing to the " Old Buffs," a regiment also just brought 
 back to London after Falkirk and Culloden. And 
 behind these followed a small knot of visitors to the 
 gardens who had gleaned that there was something 
 unusual taking place, or about to do so. 
 
 " Your names," said the first man, who had kept 
 watch over the movements of Elphinston, as he came 
 close to the two comrades, while his own companion 
 and the soldiers also drew very near, "are, if I mistake 
 riot, Bertie Elphinston and Douglas Sholto. Is that 
 the case ? " 
 
 " My friend," said the former, " I would bid you 
 have a care how you ask persons unknown to you, and 
 to whom you are unknown, what their names are. It 
 is a somewhat perilous proceeding to take liberties 
 with strangers thus." 
 
 "You are not persons unknown to me. I can give 
 a full description of your actions during the last year, 
 which would cause you to be torn limb from limb by 
 the people in this garden. As it is, I require you to 
 go with us to the nearest magistrate, where I shall 
 swear an information against you, and " 
 
 " By what process," asked Douglas Sholto, " do 
 you propose to carry out your requirements ? By your 
 own efforts, perhaps?" 
 
 " By our own efforts, aided by those of five sol- 
 diers here, of several others now in the Spring Gar- 
 dens, and by the general company herein assembled, if 
 necessary. But come, sirs, we trifle time away. Will 
 you come, or won't you ? "
 
 g DENOUNCED. 
 
 For answer Douglas Sholto dealt the man such a 
 blow with his fist that he fell back shrieking that his 
 jaw was broken ; while his comrade, calling on the sol- 
 diers for aid in the name of the King against rebels 
 who had fought at Culloden, hurled himself on Elphin- 
 ston, with his sword drawn and in his hand. But the 
 latter, drawing from his back the long lean-bladed axe, 
 presented so formidable an appearance, that the other 
 shrank back appalled, though he called on the soldiers 
 still for assistance. 
 
 " Beware," said Elphinston, as he ranged himself 
 by the side of his friend, " beware ! We are not men 
 to be played with, and, as sure as there's a heaven 
 above, if any of you come within swing of my arm, I'll 
 lop your heads off ! " 
 
 " The hound fought at Culloden ; I saw him there," 
 said one of the Coldstreams. "By heavens, I'll at- 
 tempt it on him if he had fifty axes," and so saying he 
 sprang full at the young Scotchman. As he came, the 
 latter might have cleft his head open from scalp to 
 chin, but he was a soldier himself ; and the other had 
 not drawn the short sword he wore at his side ere he 
 Hew at him. Therefore, he only seized him by the 
 throat as he would have seized a mad bull-dog that at- 
 tacked him, and in a minute had hurled the fellow back 
 among the others. But now all the soldiers as well 
 as the two police agents had had time to draw their 
 weapons, and seven gleaming blades were presented 
 at the breasts of the two young men when a timely 
 assistance arrived. 
 
 Sir Charles Ames burst through the crowd on the 
 outskirts of the antagonists, his own bright court ra- 
 pier flashing in the air, and following him came Mr. 
 Wynn and Doyle Fane, also with their weapons drawn.
 
 "FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." gl 
 
 "For shame! For shame!" said Sir Charles. 
 " Five great hulking soldiers and two others against 
 two men. Put up your weapons, or we'll make you." 
 
 "Put up your own," said one of the Old Buffs; 
 " they are rebels. Curse them ! We have met before," 
 and as he spoke he lunged full at the breast of Elphin- 
 ston. 
 
 " Hoot ! " said Fane, the spirit of the old swords- 
 man, the old Irishman, aroused at this, "if it's for tilt- 
 ing, my boys, come along. It's a pretty dance I'll 
 teach ye. There, now, look to that." And with the 
 easiest twist of his wrist he parried the soldier's thrust 
 at Elphinston, with another he had slit the sleeve of 
 the man's uniform to the elbow, while a thin line of 
 blood ran quickly out from his arm. 
 
 " My word," he continued, " I've always said the 
 worst hands in the world with a sword were soldiers 
 of these present days. Your mother's broom handles 
 would suit ye better," whereon he turned his point 
 towards another. 
 
 Meanwhile Sir Charles Ames had placed himself by 
 Bertie and Douglas, and had already exchanged sev- 
 eral passes with the others, when, stepping back a mo- 
 ment into the arbour, he saw to his intense astonish- 
 ment the figure of Kitty, she being in a swoon, and 
 consequently unconscious. 
 
 " Lady Fordingbridge," he murmured, " Lady Ford- 
 ingbridge. So, so ! A little assignation with our rebel 
 friends. Humph ! I'd scarce have thought it of her. 
 However, 'tis no affair of mine, and as she's Molly Bel- 
 rose's friend, why, I must be the same to her friends." 
 Whereon he again took his place alongside the two 
 Jacobites and assisted at keeping the others at bay. 
 
 But the crowd still augmented in their neighbour-
 
 g2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 hood, and while the soldiers all of whom had of late 
 fought in Flanders as well as Scotland, and were as 
 fierce as their chief, Cumberland were pressing the 
 others hardly, some of the livelier masqueraders began 
 to feel disposed to assist one side or another. There- 
 fore, 'twas almost a riot that now prevailed in the 
 Spring Gardens ; and as among the company there were 
 numerous other Jacobites, who, although they had 
 probably not been out with Charles Stuart, were very 
 keen in their sympathies with his cause, they took the 
 opportunity of joining the fracas on their own account 
 and of breaking the heads of several Hanoverian sup- 
 porters. And also, gathering that the scene arose 
 from the attempted apprehension of two of their own 
 leaning, they gradually directed their way towards the 
 arbour where the affray had begun summarily knock- 
 ing down or tripping up all who opposed them, so that 
 the next morning many shopboys, city clerks, and re- 
 spectable city puts themselves appeared at their places 
 of business with broken crowns, bruised faces, and 
 black eyes. 
 
 At present nothing serious had occurred beyond a 
 few surface wounds given on either side ; the soldiers 
 and police agents were no match for the five skilful 
 swordsmen to whom they were opposed, and the latter 
 refrained from shedding the blood of men beneath them. 
 
 "Yet," said Sir Charles Ames to Mr. Wynn, while 
 he wiped his face with his lace-embroidered handker- 
 chief, " if the canaille do not desist soon I must pink 
 one for the sake of my gentility. Wynn, where is Lady 
 Belrose during this pleasing interlude?" 
 
 " Safe in the supper room," replied the young beau. 
 " She is very well. I saw to that. Ames, who are 
 these stalwart Highlanders whose cause we espouse ? "
 
 "FORTUNE! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." 83 
 
 " The devil himself only knows," replied the world- 
 ly exquisite. " Ha ! would you ? " to one of the Cold- 
 streams as he tried a pass at him. " Go home, my man, 
 go home. I know your colonel; you shall be whipped 
 for this. Yet," he whispered to his friend, " I do think 
 these knocks are/0#r les beaux yeux de madame. What's 
 that shout?" 
 
 " The constables, I imagine." 
 
 " The more the merrier ! Ha ! Wynn, we are borne 
 along the path. The deuce take it, we have lost the 
 shelter of the arbour ! " 
 
 "For Heaven's sake," whispered Elphinston to the 
 baronet, " as I see you are a gentleman, go back and 
 look to Lady Fordingbridge. I cannot see her after 
 to-night sir, on your honour, tell her ' All is well.' 
 She will understand." 
 
 " On my honour, I will," the baronet replied. " Lon- 
 don will be too hot for you perhaps for me, too. I 
 do fear I'm a little of a Stuart myself; but listen, my 
 aunt, Lady Ames, lives at Kensington, by the Gravel 
 Pits ; direct a letter to to the fair one, under cover 
 to my respected relative, and she shall get it. Oh, 
 no thanks, I beg ; I have my own affaires de caur. I 
 know, I know " 
 
 And now the mtlee became more general, and grad- 
 ually the partisans of both sides were borne asunder, 
 two only keeping together, Bertie and Douglas. 
 
 "Where is Fane?" whispered the former. 
 
 "With Kate. I saw him in the bower with- her. 
 Heaven grant -" 
 
 He was interrupted by a man who at this moment 
 ranged himself alongside them both, and who mut- 
 tered, " Follow me, through the copse here. There is 
 an exit by which you can escape from the gardens.
 
 8 4 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Back yourselves to the copse as easily as you can, 
 then watch my movements." 
 
 " To leave her thus is impossible ! " exclaimed El- 
 phinston. " I cannot." 
 
 " Tush, nonsense !" replied Sholto, "her father is 
 with her and our dandy friends by now. Come, come, 
 we can do better for her and all of us by escaping than 
 by being taken." 
 
 " But Fane; they will arrest him." 
 
 " If they do he has his answer. He was protecting 
 his daughter. And her position will assure his. 
 Come, Bertie, come. Once outside, we can seek new 
 lodgings in another part of the town; put on new dis- 
 guises. Come." 
 
 All the time this colloquy had taken place they 
 had still been struggling with others, though by now 
 the affray had lost the sanguinary character it once 
 threatened to possess. The soldiers and the agents 
 were separated from them by a mass of people, among 
 whom were many of their sympathisers; but none 
 were using deadly weapons, rather preferring buffet- 
 ing and hustling than aught else. So that, as the tall 
 man entered another summer house and, dragging 
 Sholto and Elphinston after him, shut a door which 
 guarded its entrance, the thing was done so quickly 
 that the two originals of the disturbance had disap- 
 peared in the darkness ere they were missed. 
 
 " This," said the man, " is a private entrance and 
 exit, reserved for some very high and mighty person- 
 ages whom I need not mention. They are good pa- 
 trons of ours I am the proprietor's, Mr. Jonathan 
 Tyers, chief subordinate. Also a Scotchman like your- 
 selves, or by now you would probably have been 
 taken. Hark to them ! "
 
 " FORTUNE ! AN UNRELENTING FOE TO LOVE." 85 
 
 The people were howling outside, " Down with the 
 rebels!" "Find the Culloden dogs and cut them to 
 pieces ! " etc., the soldiers' voices being heard the loud- 
 est of all, while in response many shouted, " Charlie 
 Stuart for aye ! " and some bolder spirits shrieked a 
 then well-known song, " The Restoration," which had 
 been originally composed in honour of the return of 
 Charles II. 
 
 "Come," said the tall man, "come, your safety is 
 here." Wherewith he opened another door in the back 
 of the arbour and showed them a quiet leafy lane 
 which was entirely deserted. There," he continued, 
 " is your way. Follow the grove in this direction, and 
 'twill bring you to Kennington," and he pointed south ; 
 " the other leads to the river. Fare ye well, and if you 
 are both wise, quit London as soon as you have 
 changed your garments. For myself I must go round 
 to the front entrance ; if I go back through the gar- 
 dens I may be called to account by the mob for your 
 escape." 
 
 Upon which, and not waiting for his countrymen's 
 thanks, he took himself off quickly. 
 
 "Which way now, Bertie?" asked Douglas. 
 " Wandsworth is done with. Where to ? " 
 
 "To Kensington. I, at least, must watch the 
 square to see if Kate gets safe back to her home." 
 
 " Then we go together. Only, what of these ac- 
 cursed clothes? We must make shift to get rid of 
 them."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 To put the river between them and their late an- 
 tagonists and would-be captors naturally occurred to 
 the young men as their wisest plan, although as, urged 
 by Douglas, the other strode towards it, he more than 
 once reproached himself for coming away and leaving 
 Lady Fordingbridge behind. Nor could any words 
 uttered by his friend persuade him to regard his de- 
 parture as anything else than pusillanimous. 
 
 " She went there to meet me ; to see me once 
 again," he repeated, "and I have left her to Heaven 
 knows what peril. These men know me know us 
 well enough for what we are. 'Tis not difficult to 
 guess whence comes their knowledge ! They may ac- 
 cuse her of being a rebel, too. Oh ! Kate, Kate! what 
 will be the end of it all ; what the finish of our wrecked 
 and ruined lives ?" 
 
 " No harm can come to her, I tell you," replied his 
 comrade. " Why, man, heart up ! Has not the fox, 
 Fordingbridge, made his peace with George; how shall 
 they arrest his wife or her father as rebels ? Tush ! 
 'tis not to be thought on. Come, fling away as much 
 of this disguise as possible. We near the end of the 
 lane, and I can hear the shouts of the watermen to 
 their fares ; and still we must go a mile or two higher 
 up and take boat ourselves." 
 
 86
 
 DENOUNCED. g* 
 
 As he spoke he discarded his own woollen cloak, 
 and tossed it over a high fence into the grounds of a 
 country house by which they were now passing, while, 
 slowly enough, for his heart was sore within him, 
 Bertie imitated his actions. The axe (which, like the 
 principal part of his dress, had been hired from a cos- 
 turner or fashioner a class of tradesmen more com- 
 mon even in those days than these, since fancy dresses 
 were greatly in demand for the masques, ridottos al 
 fresco, and fancy dress balls which took place so fre- 
 quently) had been lost in the latter part of the riot, 
 and now he discarded also the peculiar mask he had 
 worn, producing from his pocket the ordinary vizard 
 used at such entertainments, and which the fore- 
 thought of Douglas had induced him to bring. For 
 the rest, his clothes would attract no attention. They 
 were suitable either to a man whose circumstances 
 did not permit of his wearing velvet, silk, or fine 
 broadcloth, or to one who had assumed the simple 
 disguise of a superior workingman. The headsman's 
 knife, however, he did not discard, but slipped up his 
 sleeve, and Douglas retained his sword. 
 
 And now they drew near to the end of the lane, 
 when, to their satisfaction, they perceived an alley 
 running out of it and parallel to the course of the 
 river, as they supposed, by the aid of which they might 
 be enabled to follow its course for some distance with- 
 out coming out on to the bank where, at this moment, 
 there would be many persons from the garden taking 
 boat to the other side. 
 
 " Fortune favours us up to now," exclaimed Sholto 
 to his moody companion, as they turned into this 
 smaller lane ; " Heaven grant it may continue to do 
 so!" Then, changing the subject, he said, "Bertie,
 
 gg DENOUNCED. 
 
 lad, who do you think set those bloodhounds on us ? 
 'Twas some one who knew of our hiding-hole. As we 
 remarked, we were followed from Wandsworth." 
 
 "Who!" said Elphinston, stopping to look in his 
 friend's face and peering at him under the light of the 
 stars, "who, but one ? The man whom I have to kill ; 
 whom I am ordained to kill sooner or later." 
 
 "You will kill him?" the other asked, stopping 
 also. 
 
 "As a dog, when next I see him or, no, not as a 
 dog, for that is a creature faithful and true, and can- 
 not conceive treachery but as some poisonous, devil- 
 ish thing, adder or snake, that stings us to the death 
 when least we expect the blow. Why," he asked, 
 pausing, "do you shudder?" 
 
 "I know not," replied Douglas; "yet I have done 
 so more than once when his name has been men- 
 tioned. I know not why," he repeated, " unless I am 
 fey." 
 
 "Fey! fey!" echoed Elphinston. "Let him be 
 fey ! He should be ! It is predestined ; his fate at 
 my hands is near. He cannot avoid it." 
 
 As they ceased speaking they continued on their 
 way until, at last, the lane opened on to a dreary 
 waste of fields and marshes which stretched towards 
 the very places which they most desired to avoid, 
 Battersea and Wandsworth ; while opposite to them, 
 on the other side of the river, were the equally dreary 
 marshes known as Tothill and Pimlico Fields. 
 
 " I' faith," said Douglas, as his eye roamed over 
 all this extent of barrenness, which was more appar- 
 ent than it would otherwise have been owing to the 
 late rising of the moon, now near its full, " I' faith, 
 we're atwixt the devil and the deep sea or, so to
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 89 
 
 speak, the river. How are we to cross ; or shall we 
 go back and over the bridge at Westminster ? " 
 
 " Nay," replied Bertie ; " as we came down the 
 lane I saw a house to the right of us; doubtless 'tis 
 to that the lane belongs. Now, 'tis certain there must 
 be boats somewhere. Let us down to the shore and 
 see. Hark ! there is the clock of Chelsea Church 
 striking. The west wind brings the sound across the 
 marshes. Ha ! 'tis eleven of the clock. Come, let us 
 waste no time." 
 
 They turned therefore down to the river's bank, 
 walking as quietly as possible so that their feet should 
 make no more noise than necessary on the stones and 
 shingle, for it was now low tide; and then, to their 
 great joy, they saw drawn up by the water's edge a 
 small wherry in which sat a man, and by his side 
 he had a lantern that glimmered brightly in the 
 night. 
 
 " Friend," said Elphinston, " we have missed our 
 way after leaving the Spring Gardens ; can you put 
 across the river ? We will pay you for your trouble." 
 
 The fellow looked at them civilly enough, then he 
 said, " Yes, so that you waste no time. I have busi- 
 ness here which I may not leave for more than a quar- 
 ter of an hour. Wilt give me a crown to ferry you 
 across ? " 
 
 " The price is somewhat high," said Douglas. " Yet, 
 since we would not sleep in these marshes all night, 
 nor retrace our steps to Westminster Bridge, we'll 
 do it." 
 
 " In with you, then," replied the man, " yet, first 
 give me the crown ; I have been deceived by dissolute 
 maskers ere now." Then, when he had received the 
 money, he said he supposed Ranelagh or the New
 
 go DENOUNCED. 
 
 Chelsea Waterworks * would do very well. " Aye," 
 said Douglas, " they will do," whereupon, having 
 taken their seats, the man briskly ferried them 
 across. 
 
 Yet, as they traversed the river, the fear sprang 
 into their hearts that they had been tracked from 
 Vauxhall, that even yet they were not safe from 
 pursuit. For scarcely were they half way across the 
 stream when the man's lantern, which he had left on 
 the bank perhaps as a signal was violently waved 
 about in the air by some hand, while a couple of 
 torches were also seen flickering near it and voices 
 were heard calling to him. 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! " the man bellowed back ; " ay ! ay ! 
 What ! may I not earn a crown while you do your 
 dirty work ? In good time. In good time," he roared 
 still louder, in response to further calls from the bank, 
 while he pulled more lustily than before towards the 
 north shore. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Elphinston. " Who are they 
 who seem so impatient for your services?" 
 
 " A pack of fools," the man replied. " Young 
 sprigs of fashion who have been quarrelling there," 
 nodding towards Ranelagh Gardens, to which they 
 were now close, " quarrelling over their wine and their 
 women, I do guess, and two of them have crossed 
 over to measure the length of their swords. Well, 
 well ; if one's left on the grass I'll be there pretty 
 soon to see what pickings there are in his pockets. 
 'Tis the fools that provide the wise men's feasts," 
 whereon this philosopher pulled his boat to the 
 bank, set the young men ashore, and, a moment 
 
 * Inaugurated 1724.
 
 DENOUNCED. 9! 
 
 later, was quickly pulling away back to the duelling 
 party. 
 
 Ranelagh itself was shut up as they stepped ashore, 
 all its lights were out and the hackney coachmen and 
 chairmen gone with their last fares ; and of that 
 night's entertainment which was sure to have been 
 a great one in rivalry to its neighbour and opponent 
 at Vauxhall nothing was left but the shouting figures 
 of those on the other bank, and, perhaps, a dead man 
 on the grass of the marshes, with a sword-thrust 
 through his lungs and his wide-staring eyes gazing up 
 at the moon. It seemed, therefore, that they must 
 walk to Kensington, since no conveyance was to be 
 found here. 
 
 " Not that the distance is much," said Bertie El- 
 phinston, who had before now walked at nights from 
 Wandsworth and Chelsea to the Square, simply to 
 gaze on the house that enshrined the woman he had 
 loved so much ; perhaps also to see the place where 
 the man dwelt whom he meant to kill when the op- 
 portunity should arise " but 'tis the hour that grows 
 so late. If they have gone home at once from the 
 gardens without being disturbed by any of the police 
 agents, she must be housed by now and and I 
 cannot see her again." 
 
 "At least you can wait. If not to-day, then to- 
 morrow you can meet, surely. All trace of us is lost 
 now, we shall never go back to Wandsworth we must 
 send the landlady our debt by some sure hand a 
 change of clothes and hiding place will put us in 
 safety again. And as for messages, why, Archibald 
 will convey them." 
 
 " Archibald ! " exclaimed the other with a start. 
 "Archibald! Heavens! we had forgotten ! what 
 
 7
 
 g 2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 have we been thinking of ? He may be taken 
 too." 
 
 " Taken ! Archibald taken ! Oh, Bertie, why should 
 that be ? " 
 
 " Why should it be ! Rather ask, why should it 
 not be ? Do you think that tiger's whelp who has set 
 the law on us will spare him ? No, Simeon Larpent 
 means to make a clean sweep of all at once; his wife's 
 old lover, that lover's friend, and the priest who 
 knows so much of his early life and all his secrets, 
 plots and intrigues against first one and then the 
 other, Jacobite and Hanoverian alike. I tell you, 
 Archibald is in as great a danger as we are ! " and he 
 strode on determinately as he spoke. 
 
 Their way lay now towards Knightsbridge by a 
 fair, broad road through the fields, and between some 
 isolated houses and villas that were dotted about ; and 
 as by this time the moon was well up, everything they 
 passed could be seen distinctly. Of people, they met 
 or passed scarcely any ; the road that, an hour or so 
 before, had been covered with revellers of all degrees 
 wending their way back from Ranelagh to the suburbs 
 of Chelsea, Kensington, and Knightsbridge, or to 
 what had, even in those days, been already called 
 " The Great City," was now, with midnight at hand, 
 as deserted as a country lane. Yet one sign they did 
 see of the debaucheries that took place in Ranelagh 
 as well as in the Spring Gardens ; a sign of the 
 drunkenness and depravities that prevailed terribly in 
 those days among almost all classes. Lying at the 
 side of the road, where, doubtless, they had fallen to- 
 gether as they reeled away from the night's orgie, they 
 perceived two young men and a young woman- 
 masked, and presenting a weird appearance as they
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 93 
 
 lay on their backs, their flushed faces turned up to 
 the moon, yet with the upper part hidden by the black 
 vizard. It was easy to perceive that all had fallen 
 together and been afterwards unable to rise as they 
 lay side by side they were still arm in arm, and, doubt- 
 less, the first who had fallen had dragged the others 
 after him. The two young men seemed from their 
 apparel to be of a respectable class, perhaps clerks or 
 scriveners, their clothes being of good cloth, though 
 not at all belaced ; as for their companion, the bac- 
 chante by their sides, she might have been anything 
 from shopgirl or boothdancer down to demirep. 
 
 " Now," said Douglas, " here is our chance for 
 disguise. These fellows have good enough coats and 
 hats see, too, they sport the black cockade. Well, 
 'twill not hurt them to sell us some apparel." Where- 
 with he proceeded to lift the nearest sot up and relieve 
 him of his coat, waistcoat, and hat. Apparently the 
 fellow thought he was being put to bed by some one, 
 as he muttered indistinctly, " Hang coat over chair 
 shan't wear it 'gain till Sunday "but as Douglas 
 slipped a couple of guineas into his breeches pocket 
 he went to sleep peacefully enough once more. As 
 for the other young man, he never stirred at all while 
 Bertie removed his garments, nor when he put into 
 his pocket a similar sum of two guineas, and also 
 his copper-cased watch, which had slipped from out 
 his fob. 
 
 "They are somewhat tight and pinching," re- 
 marked Douglas as he and his friend donned their 
 new disguise, "even though we are now as lean as 
 rats after our Scotch campaign." 
 
 Yet, tight as their new clothes were, they an- 
 swered, at least, a good purpose. It would have
 
 94 DENOUNCED. 
 
 taken a shrewd eye to recognise in these two respect- 
 ably clad men in spite of their coats being somewhat 
 dusty from having lain in the road while on the backs 
 of their late masters, the headsman and the High- 
 lander who, a few hours before, had walked round 
 and round the orchestra pavilion at Vauxhall. 
 
 After this they went forward briskly towards Ken- 
 sington-square, attracting no attention from anyone 
 indeed meeting few people, for at this distance from 
 the heart of the town there was scarcely anyone ever 
 stirring after midnight, and it was somewhat past that 
 time now. As they neared Kensington, it is true, they 
 were passed by a troop of the Queen's Guards (a's the 
 2nd Life Guards were then called) returning, prob- 
 ably, from some duty at St. James's Palace, but other- 
 wise they encountered none whom they need consider 
 hostile to them. 
 
 In the square there was, when they reached it at 
 last, no sign of life. The watchman in his box slum- 
 bered peacefully, his dog at his feet, and in the win- 
 dows of the houses scarcely a light was to be seen. 
 Nor was there any appearance of activity in the house 
 belonging to Fordingbridge, though Bertie thought he 
 should have at least seen some light in the room which 
 he knew, from enquiry of Sholto, to be Kate's. 
 
 " Tis strange," he said, " strange. Surely they 
 must have returned from the masquerade by now. 
 After crossing the water a coach would have brought 
 them here in less than an hour. 'Tis passing strange ! " 
 
 " They may have got back so early," hazarded 
 Douglas, "that already all are a-bed. Or they may 
 have gone on to Lady Belrose's, in Hanover-square. 
 A hundred things may have happened. And where, I 
 wonder, is Archie ? He surely will be in bed."
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 95 
 
 " Can he be arrested ? It may be so." 
 
 " God forbid ! Yet this darkness and silence seem 
 to me ominous. What shall we do ?" 
 
 " Heaven knows. Hist ! Who comes here ? " and 
 as he spoke, from out of one of the doorways over 
 which was, as may still be seen, a huge scallop-shell, 
 there stepped forth a man. Enveloped in one of the 
 long cloaks, or roquelaures, still worn at the period, 
 and with the tip of a sword's scabbard sticking out 
 beneath it, the man sauntered leisurely away from 
 where they were standing, yet as he went they could 
 hear him humming to himself an air they both knew 
 well. It was that old tune " The Restoration " which 
 they had heard once before this evening ! to which 
 the Highland army marched after it had crossed the 
 border. 
 
 Presently the man turned and came towards them 
 slowly, then as he passed by he looked straight in 
 their faces, and, seeming satisfied by what he saw, he 
 muttered, " A fine spring night, gentlemen. Ay, and 
 so it is. A fine night for the young lambs outside the 
 town and for the hawks within though the hawks get 
 not always their beaks into the lambs too easily ; in 
 fact, I may give myself classical license and say they 
 are non semper triumphans." 
 
 "In very truth," replied Bertie, " some though 
 'tis not always the hawks are nunquam triumphant. 
 That is, if. I apprehend your meaning." 
 
 " Ay, sir," said the man, dropping his classics and 
 changing his manner instantly. " You apprehend me 
 very well. Sir, I am here with a message for you 
 from a certain Scotch trader, one Mr. Archibald ; also 
 from a certain fair lady " 
 
 "Ah!"
 
 9 6 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Or rather, let me say, without beating about the 
 bush, I brought to a certain fair lady, to-night, a mes- 
 sage from Mr. Archibald, while she, considering it 
 possible that a certain, or two certain brave gentle- 
 men might appear in this square to-night, did beg me 
 to remain in this sad square to deliver the message." 
 
 " Sir," said Elphinston, teased by the man's quaint 
 phraseology, yet anxious to know what the message 
 really was that had been sent from Father Sholto to 
 Kate, and on from her to him, " sir, we thank you very 
 much. Will you now please to deliver to us that mes- 
 sage ? " 
 
 "Sir, I will. It is for that I am here." Then 
 without more ado he said hastily, " The worthy trader 
 has been warned from a friend, a countryman of ours, 
 who is connected, or attached, so to speak, to the 
 Scotch Secretary of State's Orifice, that he may very 
 possibly be cast into durance should he remain there," 
 and he jerked his thumb at Lord Fordingbridge's 
 house as he spoke; "whereon, seeing that precaution 
 is the better part of valour, the worthy trader has re- 
 moved himself from the hospitable roof there," upon 
 which he this time jerked his head instead of his 
 thumb towards the house, "and has sought another 
 shelter which, so to speak as it were, is not in this part 
 of the town, but more removed. But, being a man of 
 foresight and precaution, also hath he gone to warn 
 two gallant gentlemen residing at a sweet and se- 
 cluded village on the river to be careful to themselves 
 remove " 
 
 "That," said Douglas, "we have already done. 
 Yet his warning must have got there too late." 
 
 "And," continued their garrulous and perspica- 
 cious friend, "also did he request and desire me to
 
 DENOUNCED. ^ 
 
 attend here in- the square until a certain fair lady 
 should return from the gallimanteries and ridottos al 
 fresco to which she had that evening been." 
 
 "And did the certain fair lady return?" asked 
 Elphinston, unable to repress a smile at his stilted 
 verbiage. 
 
 " Return she did. In gay company ! Two sparks 
 with her, dressed in the best, though somewhat di- 
 shevelled as though with profane dancings and junket- 
 tings one had his coat ripped from lapel to skirt 
 and an elderly man I fear me also a wassailer ! with 
 a fierce eye. Then I up and delivered the worthy 
 hem ! trader's message, when, lo ! as flame to torch- 
 wood, there burst forth from all a tremendous clam- 
 jamfry such as might have been heard up there," and 
 this time he jerked his head towards where Kensing- 
 ton Palace lay. 
 
 " As how ? " asked the young men together. " Why 
 should they make a clamjamfry ? " 
 
 "Hech!" answered their eccentric countryman, 
 " 'tis very plain ye ken not women nor, for that mat- 
 ter, the young sparks of London ! This is how it went. 
 One certain fair lady from whom I bring you a wee 
 bit message wrung her hands and wept, saying, ' Be- 
 trayed, betrayed again ! The veellain ! the veellain ! ' 
 whereby I think she meant not you ; the other fair 
 lady, who is maybe an hour or so older, stormed and 
 scolded and screeched about unutterable scoundrels, 
 yet bade the other cease weeping and seek her house, 
 to which she was very welcome ; while the two young 
 men uttered words more befitting their braw though 
 unholy dishevelled apparel, and spake of him," and 
 here the nodding head was wagged over to Fording- 
 bridge's house again, "as though he were Lucifer in-
 
 9 8 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 carnate though that was not the name, so to speak 
 as it were. And for the old man with the fierce eye, 
 hech ! mon, his language was unbefitting a Christian." 
 
 " And the message the lady scrawled. What is 
 it?" 
 
 " Tis here," the other replied. " You must just 
 excuse the hasty writing " but ere he could finish 
 his remark Bertie had taken a piece of paper from his 
 hand which he brought out from under his cloak, and, 
 striding to where an oil lamp glimmered over a door- 
 way, read what it contained. The few lines ran as 
 follows : 
 
 "We are once more betrayed. He has, I know, 
 done this. I leave his house and him for ever from 
 to-night. I pray God you may yet escape. If you 
 ever loved me, fly fly at once. Lose no moment. 
 KATHERINE."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. 
 
 IT was on a bright afternoon, a week after the 
 events which have been described, that Lord Fording- 
 bridge's travelling carriage drew up in front of his 
 house, and my lord descended in an extremely bad 
 humour. There was, perhaps, more than one reason 
 why he was not in the most amiable of tempers, the 
 principal one being that the news which he had hoped 
 to receive ere he again made his entrance into London 
 had not come to hand. 
 
 All the time that he had been on his Cheshire 
 property which he had found to be considerably neg- 
 lected since his father's departure for France he had 
 been expecting to receive, from one source or an- 
 other, the information of the arrest of those three ene- 
 mies of his, about whom he had given information suf- 
 ficient to bring them to justice. Yet none had come. 
 Daily he had sent to the coach office at Chester for 
 the journals from London, but, when he had perused 
 them, he still failed to find that any of the three had 
 been haled to justice. Nor was there even a descrip- 
 tion in any of them of the scene at Vauxhall which, 
 had he found such description, might have been ex- 
 ceedingly pleasant reading. But, in truth, nothing 
 was more unlikely than that he should find it. A fracas 
 at either Ranelagh or the Spring Gardens was by no 
 
 QQ
 
 100 DENOUNCED. 
 
 means likely to be chronicled in either the " London 
 Journal" or the "Craftsman," or any other news- 
 sheet of the period, since in those days the ubiquitous 
 reporter was unknown, or, when he existed, did not 
 consider anything beneath a murder, a state trial, or 
 an execution worthy of his pen. Also the proprietors 
 of Ranelagh and Vauxhall, and similar places of enter- 
 tainment, took very good care to keep anything un- 
 pleasant that happened out of the papers. Nothing 
 short, therefore, of Mr. Jonathan Tyers sending an 
 account of what had occurred in his grounds to the 
 papers of the day with the request that it might be in- 
 serted accompanied, perhaps, by a payment for such 
 insertion would have led to the publication of the 
 matter, and that the worthy proprietor of the Spring 
 Gardens would do such a thing as this was not to be 
 supposed. 
 
 Also, my lord had received no news from his wife, 
 nor her father, which astonished him considerably. 
 For he had supposed that, in about a week's time, the 
 post would bring him a letter full of accusations, re- 
 proaches, and injurious epithets from her ladyship, 
 who, he felt sure, would at once connect him with the 
 arrest of the three men yet, no more from her than 
 from the public prints did he gather one word. So 
 that at last he began to have the worst fears that, 
 after all, the Government had bungled in some way 
 and that the victims had escaped. It was, therefore, 
 in a very ill humour that he again returned to Lon- 
 don, cursing inwardly and vehemently at any delay 
 necessitated by the changing of horses, by nights spent 
 at inns on the road, and by the heavy roads them- 
 selves; and at St. Albans, where he once more slept, 
 by receiving no visit at all from Captain Morris, to
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. IO i 
 
 whom he had written saying that he would be there on 
 a certain evening and would be pleased to see him. 
 
 Instead, however, he received a visit from another 
 person who had troubled his mind a great deal during 
 the past week or so ; a somewhat rough, uncouth-look- 
 ing fellow, who seemed to have dogged his footsteps 
 perpetually who had passed him soon after he left 
 Uunstable on his journey down, whom he saw again at 
 Coventry and at Stafford, and who, to his amazement, 
 now strode into the apartment he occupied as hitherto, 
 and stated that he brought a message from the Captain. 
 
 " Hand it to me, then," said his lordship, regarding 
 the man as he stood before him in his rough riding 
 cloak and great boots, and recognising him as the fel< 
 low who had appeared so often on his journey. 
 
 " There is nothing to hand," the other replied. 
 " Only a word-of-mouth message." 
 
 " A word-of-mouth message ! Indeed ! Captain 
 Morris spares me but scant courtesy. Well, what is 
 the message ? " 
 
 " Only this. The work has failed, and the birds 
 have escaped from the net. That's all." 
 
 " Escaped from the net ! " his lordship said, sinking 
 back into the deep chair he sat in, and staring at the 
 uncouth messenger. " Escaped from the net ! But 
 the particulars, man, the particulars! How has it 
 come about ? Are the Government and their under- 
 lings a pack of fools and idiots that they let malig- 
 nant traitors escape thus ? " 
 
 " Very like, for all I know, or, for the matter of 
 that, care. The captain's one of their underlings, as 
 you call them, and I'm another. Perhaps we're fools 
 and idiots." 
 
 "You are another, are you?" said his lordship,
 
 102 DENOUNCED. 
 
 looking at him, " another, eh ? Pray, sir, is that why 
 you have dogged me into Cheshire and back again as 
 you have done, for I have seen you often ? Am I a 
 suspected person that I am followed about thus ? Am 
 I, sir?" 
 
 "Very like," again replied this stolid individual. 
 " Very like, though I know not. I received my orders 
 at Dunstable to keep you in sight, and I kept you, 
 that's " 
 
 " Leave the room. Go out of my sight at once ! " 
 exclaimed Lord Fordingbridge, springing from his seat 
 and advancing toward the man. "Go at once, or the 
 ostler shall be sent for to throw you out. Go ! " 
 
 When the man had departed, muttering that " fool, 
 or idiot, or both, he'd done his duty, and he didn't 
 care for any nobleman in England, Jacobite or Hano- 
 verian, so long as he done that," the viscount gave 
 himself up to the indulgence of one of those fits, or 
 rather tempests, of passion, which, as a rule, he rarely 
 allowed himself to indulge in, and cursed and swore 
 heartily as he stamped up and down the room for half 
 an hour. 
 
 " Everything goes wrong with me," he muttered, as 
 he shook his fist in impotent rage at his own reflection 
 in the great mirrors over the fireplace, " everything, 
 everything ! If that infernal captain had only gone to 
 work as he should have done on the information I 
 gave him, they would all have been lodged in gaol by 
 now two of them doomed to a certain death and the 
 other to a long imprisonment or banishment to the 
 colonies. And now they are fled are free safe, 
 while I am far from safe since Elphinston is at large; 
 and am suspected, too, it seems, since, forsooth, that 
 chuckle-headed boor is set to follow me."
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. IO 3 
 
 This latter thought was, perhaps, as unpleasant a 
 one as any which rose to his mind, since if he were 
 also suspected it might be the case that, while he had 
 denounced the others, they or probably Archibald 
 Sholto alone might have denounced him. And at 
 this terrible thought he quaked with fear, for he 
 knew what an array of charges might be brought. 
 Nay, it was the very fear of those charges being 
 brought, combined with his other fear of Elphinston 
 wreaking vengeance on him for having deceived and 
 stolen his promised wife, that had led to his betraying 
 the three men who alone could denounce him. And 
 now they were all free, instead of being in Newgate or 
 the Tower, and he, it seemed, was as much suspected 
 as they ! 
 
 He tossed about his bed all night, made a wretched 
 breakfast, and then set out for London, determined at 
 all hazards to discover exactly what had happened, or 
 perhaps to find out that nothing had happened. Yet 
 as he went he mused on what his future course should 
 be, and came to at least one determination. 
 
 "I will send her ladyship packing," he said, with a 
 sardonic grin. " I have had enough of her and her 
 airs and graces, and she may go to Elphinston or to 
 the devil for aught I care. I have a surprise to spring 
 upon her, a trump card, or, as the late Louis was said 
 to call that card, ' La dernttre piece d'or,' because it 
 always won. And, by Heaven, I'll spring it without 
 mercy ! " 
 
 In which frame of mind his lordship arrived in 
 front of his town house. But now a new matter of 
 astonisrfthent arose, also a new fuel for his humours; 
 for the house appeared deserted, the blinds were 
 drawn down in all the windows. He could perceive
 
 I04 DENOUNCED. 
 
 no smoke arising from any chimney, there was no sign 
 of life at all about the place. He bade his manservant 
 get down from beside the coachman and tug lustily at 
 the bell, while all the time that the man was doing so 
 he was fretting and fuming inwardly, and at last was 
 meditating sending for the watch and having the door 
 forced, when it was opened from the inside, and the 
 oldest servant in his establishment, a decrepit, deaf 
 old man, who had acted as caretaker for many years 
 during his and his father's absence abroad, appeared. 
 
 "Come here, Luke, come here," his lordship called 
 loudly to him; "come here, I say," and he motioned 
 that he should descend the steps and approach the 
 travelling carriage, from the door of which he was now 
 glaring at him. But, whether from fright or senility, 
 or both combined, the other did not obey him, and 
 only stood shivering and shaking and feebly bowing 
 upon the threshold. 
 
 " What devil's game is this ?" Fordingbridge mut- 
 tered to himself as he now sprang out and ran up the 
 steps, after which he grasped the old man by the collar 
 and, dragging him toward him, bawled in his ear ques- 
 tion after question as to what cause the present state 
 of the house was owing. But the old fellow only shiv- 
 ered and shook the more, and seemed too paralyzed 
 by his master's violence to do anything but wag his 
 jaws helplessly. Hurling him away, therefore, with 
 no consideration at all for either his age or feebleness, 
 Fordingbridge rushed through the hall ringing a bell 
 that communicated with the kitchens and another with 
 the garrets, calling out the names of male and female 
 servants, and receiving no answer to any of ftis sum- 
 mons. Then, tired of this at last, he bade his man- 
 servant bring in his valises and ordered the travelling
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. 
 
 105 
 
 carriage off to the stables. But by now the old servitor 
 seemed to have recovered either his breath or his senses 
 somewhat, and coming up to his lordship in a sidling 
 fashion, such as a dog assumes when fearful of a blow 
 if it approaches its master too near, he mumbled that 
 there was no one else in the house but himself. 
 
 " So I should suppose," Lord Fordingbridge re- 
 plied, endeavouring to calm himself and to overcome 
 the gust of passion with which he had once more been 
 seized, " so I should suppose; I^have called enough to 
 have waked the dead had there been any here." Then 
 once more regarding the old man with one of his fierce 
 glances, he shouted at him in a voice that penetrated 
 even to his ears, " Where are they all ? Where is her 
 ladyship ? " in a lower voice. " Where are the serv- 
 ants ?" 
 
 " Gone, all gone," Luke replied, "all gone. None 
 left but me." 
 
 " Where are they gone to ? " 
 
 The old man flapped his hands up and down once 
 or twice perhaps he performed the action with a de- 
 sire to deprecate his master's anger and looked up 
 beseechingly into his face as though asking pardon 
 for what was no fault of his, then replied : 
 
 " Her ladyship has gone away for good and all, I 
 hear, my lord." 
 
 " Ha ! Where is she gone to ? " . 
 
 " To Lady Belrose's. I am told. She she they 
 the servants say she will never come back." 
 
 The viscount paused a moment this news had 
 startled even him ! then he muttered, " No, I'll war- 
 rant she never shall. This justifies me." And again 
 he continued, still shouting at the old man, so that his 
 valet upstairs must have heard every word he uttered :
 
 I0 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " And the servants, where are they ? " 
 
 " All gone too. They were frightened by the po- 
 lice and the soldiers " 
 
 " The soldiers ! What soldiers ? " 
 
 " They ransacked the house to find Mr. Archibald. 
 But he, too, was gone. That terrified all but me me 
 it did not frighten. No, no," he went on, assuming a 
 ludicrous appearance of bravery that was almost weird 
 to behold, "me it did not frighten. I remember when, 
 also, the soldiers searched the house for your father, 
 his late lordship with he ! he ! the same re " 
 
 " Silence ! " roared Fordingbridge. " How dare you 
 couple my father's name with that fellow ? So Mr. 
 Archibald is also gone ! But what about the soldiers ? 
 The soldiers, I say," raising his voice again to a shriek. 
 
 " Ah, the soldiers," Luke repeated. " Yes, yes. The 
 soldiers. Brave soldiers. I had a son once in their 
 regiment, long ago, when Dunmore commanded them ; 
 
 he was wounded at um um " and he stopped, 
 
 terrified by the scowl on Lord Fordingbridge's face. 
 
 "What," bawled the latter, "did they do here in 
 this house ? Curse your son and your recollections, 
 too. What did they do here in my house ? " 
 
 " They sought for Mr. Archibald her ladyship be- 
 ing gone forth. But he, too, was out ho ! ho and 
 and he never came back. Then the captain a brave, 
 young lord, they say said you were known to be fos- 
 tering a rebel they called him a rebel Jesuit priest! 
 that you were denounced from Dunstable, and that 
 you must make your own account with the Govern- 
 ment. Then the maids fled, and next the men they 
 said they owed you no service. Ah ! there are no old 
 faithful servants now or few very few." 
 
 " Go ! " said Fordingbridge, briefly and again his
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. Io y 
 
 look terrified the poor old creature so, that he slunk 
 off shivering and shaking as before. 
 
 Slowly the viscount mounted the stairs to his sa- 
 loon, or withdrawing room, and when there he cast 
 himself into a chair and brooded on what he had 
 heard. 
 
 " Harbouring a rebel a rebel Jesuit priest," he 
 muttered. " So ! so ! am I caught in the toils that I 
 myself set ? Pardieu, 'twould seem so. I denounce a 
 rebel, and, unfortunately, that rebel- lives on me is 
 housed with me. I never thought of that ! It may 
 tell badly for me; worse, too, because I brought him 
 to England in my train. How shall I escape it ? " 
 And he sat long in his chair meditating. 
 
 " The captain said," he went on, " that I must make 
 my own account with the Government. Ah, yes, yes; 
 why ! so indeed I must. And 'tis not hard. Make 
 my account ! Why, yes, to be sure. Easy enough. 
 I, having embraced the principles of Hanover, and 
 being now firm in my loyalty to George, do, the better 
 to confound his enemies, shelter in my house one whom 
 I intend to yield up to him. Well ! there's no harm in 
 that, but rather loyalty. Otherwise," and he laughed 
 to himself as he spoke, " I might lay myself open to 
 the reproach of being a bad host ; of not respecting 
 the sacredness of the guest." 
 
 Eased in his mind by this reflection and by the ex- 
 cuse which he had found, as he considered, for appeas- 
 ing the Government and satisfying it as to his reasons 
 for sheltering a Jesuit plotter, he rose from his seat 
 and wandered into the other rooms of his house, view- 
 ing with particular interest and complaisance the one 
 which had been her ladyship's boudoir, or morning- 
 room. 
 
 8
 
 I0 g DENOUNCED. 
 
 " A pretty nest for so fair a bird," he muttered, as 
 he regarded the Mortlake hangings and lace curtains, 
 the deep roomy lounge, the bright silver tea service, 
 and as blots upon the other things bunches of now 
 withered flowers in the vases. " A pretty nest. Yet, 
 forsooth, the silly thing must fall out of it ; wander 
 forth to freedom and misery. For they say, who 
 study such frivolities, that caged birds, once released, 
 pine and die even in their freedom. Soit ! 'tis bet- 
 ter that the bird should escape and die of its own ac- 
 cord than be thrust into the cold open by its master's 
 hand. And that would have happened to your lady- 
 ship," and he laughed as he spoke of her, "had you not 
 taken the initiative. My Lady Fordingbridge," utter- 
 ing the words with emphasis, nay, with unction, " I 
 had done with you. It was time for you to go." 
 
 A little clock on the mantelpiece, a masterpiece of 
 Tompion's, chimed forth the hour musically as he 
 spoke; he remembered his father buying it as a pres- 
 ent for his mother the year before they fled to France ; 
 and turning round to look at it he saw, standing against 
 its face, where it could not fail to be observed, a letter 
 addressed to him. Opening it, he found written the 
 words, " I have left the house and you. I know every- 
 thing now." That was all; there was no form of ad- 
 dress, no superscription. Nothing could be more dis- 
 dainful, nor, by its brevity, more convincing. And, 
 whatever the schemes the man might have been ma- 
 turing in his evil mind against the writer, yet that 
 brief, contemptuous note stung him more than a long- 
 er, more explanatory one could have done. 
 
 "So be it," he said again, "so be it." Then he 
 bade his man come and dress him anew, and after- 
 wards call a hackney coach. And on entering the
 
 HOW MY LORD RETURNED HOME. IO9 
 
 latter when ready, he ordered the driver to convey 
 him first to the Duke of Newcastle's (the Secretary of 
 State), and later to Lady Belrose's in Hanover-square. 
 " For, to commence," he muttered, as he drove off, 
 " I must square his grace, and then have one final 
 interview with my dearly beloved Katherine. New- 
 castle has the reputation of being the biggest fool in 
 England he should not be difficult to deal with ; 
 while as to her well, she is no fool but yet she shall 
 find her master."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. 
 
 . FORTUNE had, indeed, stood the friend of those 
 three denounced men, otherwise they must by now 
 have been lying as Fordingbridge had said in one 
 of the many prisons of London awaiting their trial ; 
 trials which in the case of two at least would have 
 preceded by a short time only their executions and 
 deaths ; deaths made doubly horrible by that which 
 accompanied them, by the cutting out and casting 
 into the fire of the still beating hearts of the 
 victims, the disembowelling and quartering and 
 mangling. 
 
 Yet, if such was ever to be their fate and they 
 tempted such fate terribly by their continued presence 
 in London, or, indeed, in England it had not yet 
 overtaken them ; until now they were free. How 
 Douglas Sholto and Bertie Elphinston had escaped 
 the snare you have seen ; how Archibald Sholto 
 eluded those who sought him has now to be told. 
 
 Kate had no sooner departed in a chariot, sent for 
 her by Lady Belrose, to take a dish of tea in company 
 with the other members of the proposed party before 
 going on to Vauxhall, than Mr. Archibald, who had a 
 large room at the top of the house, was apprised by 
 the servant that a Scotch gentleman awaited him in
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. nj 
 
 the garden.* On desiring to be informed what the 
 gentleman's name and errand were for those engaged 
 as the Jesuit now was omitted no precautions for their 
 safety a message was brought back that the visitor 
 was an old friend of Mr. Archibald's, whom he would 
 recognise on descending to the garden, and that his 
 business was very pressing. Now Archibald was a 
 man of great forethought necessity had made him 
 such and therefore, ere he descended to the garden, 
 he thought it well to take an observation of this 
 mysterious caller, who might be, as he said, a friend 
 or, on the other hand, a representative of the law en- 
 deavouring to take advantage of him. 
 
 The opportunity for this observation presented it- 
 self, however, without any difficulty. On the back- 
 stairs of each flight in the houses of Kensington-square 
 there existed precisely what exists in the present day 
 in most houses, namely, windows half-way up each 
 flight, and, gazing out into the garden up and down 
 the gravel walks of which the visitor was walking, 
 sometimes stopping to inspect or to smell some of the 
 roses already in bloom, and sometimes casting glances 
 of impatience at the house Archibald saw the man 
 who, later on, was to deliver Kate's message to Bertie. 
 
 " Why ! " he exclaimed to himself, " as I live 'tis 
 James McGlowrie. Honest Jemmy ! Indeed, he can 
 come on no evil intent to me or to those dear to me. 
 Yet yet I fear. Even though he means no harm 
 he may be the bearer of bad news," and so saying he 
 passed down the stairs and to the man awaiting him. 
 
 * At this period most of the houses in Kensington-square had 
 large gardens at the back. Those on the west side, where I 
 Fordingbridge's is supposed to be situated, covered what 
 known as Scarsdale-place.
 
 II2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " James," he said, addressing the other in their 
 native brogue, " this is a sight for sair een. Yet," he 
 went on, " what brings you here ? First, how did you 
 know I dwelt here, and next, what brings you ? 
 though right glad I am to see you once again." 
 
 " I have a wee bit message for ye, Archibald," said 
 the other, shaking him warmly by the hand, " that it 
 behoves you vary weel to hear. And," dropping at 
 once into the verbosity that was to so tease, while at 
 the same time it amused, Elphinston some hours later, 
 " not only to hear, but, so to speak, as it were, to pon- 
 der on, yet also to decide quickly over and thereby to 
 arrive at a good determination. D'ye take, Archi- 
 bald Sh , I mean, so to speak, Mr. Archibald ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said the other, with a faint smile, 
 " I cannot in truth say that I do. James McGlowrie, 
 you can speak to the point when you choose. Choose 
 to do so now, I beg you." 
 
 " To the point is very well. And so I will speak. 
 Now, Archie, old friend, listen. Ye ken and weel 
 remember, I doubt not, Geordie McNab, erstwhile of 
 Edinburgh." 
 
 " Indeed I do." 
 
 " So so. Vary weel. Now Geordie McNab is 
 come south and has gotten himself into the Scotch 
 Secretary of State's office, for Geordie is no Jacobite ! 
 and there he draws ^"200 a year sterling not 
 Scotch. Oh, no. Geordie is now vary weel to do, 
 and what with the little estate his poor auld mother 
 left him, which, so to speak, yields him thirty bolls 
 and firlots of barley, some peats at twopence per 
 load, and many pecks of mustard seed at a shilling, 
 
 and- 
 
 " Jemmy, Jemmy," said the other, reproachfully,
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. II3 
 
 " was this the important errand you came here 
 upon ? " 
 
 " Nay, nay. My tongue runs away with me as 
 ever. Yet, listen still. Geordie is no Jacobite, yet, 
 i'faith, there's a many he's overweel disposed to, 
 among others an old schoolfellow o' his, one Archi- 
 bald." 
 
 " One Archibald ! Ha ! I take you. And, Jemmy, 
 is he threatened ; has he aught to fear from the Scotch 
 Secretary's office ? " 
 
 " The warst that can befall. Ay, man, the very 
 warst. So are also two friends of his, late of hem 
 a certain army that has of late made excursions and 
 alarums, as the bard hath it." 
 
 " So ! I understand ! We have been informed 
 against, blown upon. Alas ! alas ! We were free but 
 for this our names not even upon the list." 
 
 " Yet now," said McGlowrie, " are they there. 
 Likewise also your addresses and habitments all are 
 vary weel known. My laddie, ye must flee out o' the 
 land and awa' back to France, and go ye must at 
 once. There's no time to be lost." 
 
 " I cannot go without warning the others without 
 knowing they are safe." Then, while a terribly stern 
 look came into his face, he said, " W T ho has done this 
 thing, McGlowrie, who has done it ? " 
 
 " Can ye not vary weel guess ? 'Tis not far to 
 seek." 
 
 "Ay," the Jesuit answered, " it needs no question. 
 Oh ! Simeon Larpent, Simeon Larpent, if ever I have 
 you to my hand again, beware. Oh ! to have you but 
 for one hour in Paris and with the Holy Church to 
 avenge me, a priest, against you ! " Then changing 
 this tone to another more suitable, perhaps, to the
 
 H4 DENOUNCED. 
 
 occasion and the danger in which he stood, he 
 asked : 
 
 " What do they mean to do ? When will they pro- 
 ceed to the work, think you ? " 
 
 "At once; to-night, perhaps; to-morrow for cer- 
 tain. Go, Archie, go, pack up your duds and flee, I 
 say. Even now the Government may have put the 
 officers upon your hiding-place; have told the soldiers 
 at Kensington to surround the house. Lose no 
 time." 
 
 " But the boys the boys at Wandsworth. What 
 of them ?" 
 
 " They shall be warned, even though I do it myself. 
 But now, Archie, up to your room, bring with you in 
 a small compass, so to speak your necessaries, and 
 come with me." 
 
 " But where to ? Where to ? " 
 
 " Hech ! with me. I have a bit lodgment, as you 
 will know vary weel soon, in the Minories; 'tis near 
 there poor Lady Balmerino lodges though they prom- 
 ise her that after her lord is condemned, as he must 
 be as he must be ! she shall be lodged with him in 
 the Tower to the last ; come with me, I say. For the 
 love o' God, Archie, hesitate no longer." 
 
 Then indeed, Archibald Sholto knew that, if he 
 would save himself and help the others, and as he 
 hoped wreak his vengeance on the treacherous adder 
 that had stung them, he must follow honest James 
 McGlowrie's counsel. So, very swiftly he passed up to 
 his room, collected every paper he possessed, and car- 
 ried away with him a small valise, in which were a 
 change of clothes, several bank bills and a bag of 
 guineas, Louis d'ors, and gold crowns. Then he re- 
 turned to the garden where McGlowrie was still walk-
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE, H^ 
 
 ing up and down as before, and announced that he was 
 ready to follow him. 
 
 " Only," he said, " we will go as quietly as may be, 
 and without a word. I will not even tell the servants 
 I am going, Heaven knows if they are not spies them- 
 selves. I will just vanish away, and, as I hope, leave 
 no trace. Come, Jemmy, there is a door behind the 
 herb-garden that gives into the lane, and the lane 
 itself leads to the West-road. If we can cross that in 
 safety we can pass by Lord Holland's he is Secretary 
 of War now, and of the Privy Council yet that mat- 
 ters not to us ; behind his leafy woods we shall come 
 to the other road. Then for a hackney or a passing 
 coach to the city. Only, the boys, Jemmy, the boys! 
 What of them ? " 
 
 " Have no fear. If they are not warned already 
 by Geordie McNab 'twill surprise me very much, and 
 once I have seen ye off to the Minories I'll be away 
 to Wandsworth myself. Thereby I'll make sure. 
 Come, Archie, come. The evening draws in. Come, 
 mon." 
 
 "I will. Only, Jemmy, stick your honest nose out- 
 side the garden gate and see that neither soldiers, 
 spies, nor men of the law are there. If it is as you 
 say, the house may even now be surrounded." 
 
 McGlowrie did as the other requested, going out 
 and sauntering up and down the lane, but seeing no 
 signs of anyone about who might threaten danger. To 
 a maid-servant, drawing water from a well which 
 served for many of the gardens of the houses, he gave 
 in his pleasant Scotch way the " good e'en," and re- 
 marked that "the flowers were thirsty these warm 
 May nights, and required, so to speak as it were, a 
 draught to refresh 'em " ; and to a boy birdnesting up a
 
 U 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 tree he observed that it was a cruel sport which would 
 wring a poor mither's heart, even as his own mither's 
 would full surely be wrung should he be torn away 
 from her grasp, even as he was tearing the young 
 from the nest. But, all the time he was delivering 
 these apothegms, his eye was glancing up and down 
 the lane, and searching for any sign of danger. And, 
 seeing none, he went back to Archibald Sholto and bade 
 him follow since all was clear. 
 
 "And now," said he, as they passed to the left of 
 Holland House and so reached Kensington Gravel 
 Pits, " let us form our plans. First, there are the two 
 young men, who must of a surety have been warned by 
 Geordie, yet, supposing he should have failed, must 
 yet be warned, so to speak. Now, shall I get me 
 away " 
 
 " Alas ! " said Sholto, " I have just recalled to mind 
 that, if they are not already on their guard, 'tis now 
 too late. They were to go to the masquerade at Vaux- 
 hall ; are there by now. 'Tis certain. One of them 
 had an appointment with with the wife of the double- 
 dyed scoundrel who owns the house we have but just 
 now quitted." 
 
 " Hoot ! Ma conscience ! With his enemy's wife. 
 Vary good ! Vary good ! Perhaps 'tis not so strange 
 the man is his enemy. Weel, weel, 'tis no affair of 
 mine, yet I like not this trafficking wi' other men's 
 goods. But since they are away on this quest they 
 need no warning. Now for yourself, Archie. Get you 
 away to the Minories here is the precise address," 
 and he slipped a piece of paper into his hand, "go 
 there, lie perdu, and await my return." 
 
 " But Kate ! Lady Fordingbridge ! I must let her 
 know of my absence ; what will she think when she re-
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. n n 
 
 turns home and finds me gone ? And the others 
 they may be taken when they also return to their 
 homes." 
 
 " Leave't to me. I will await my lady's return 
 from these worldly doings ma word ! a married 
 woman and meeting other men in such sinfu' places ! 
 even though she comes not till the break o* day as 
 is very likely, I fear, under the circumstances ! And, 
 meanwhile, for the others we must trust to Geordie." 
 
 " No," said Archibald Sholto, " we will not trust to 
 Geordie, true as I believe him to be. This is the best 
 plan. If you will wait as I know you will until her 
 ladyship returns, though it will not be for some hours 
 yet, I apprehend, I will make my way to Wandsworth, 
 find out if they are warned, and, if not, will myself 
 wait their return. Then I will accept your shelter in 
 the Minories for a time until we can all three get safe 
 back to France. For France is now our only refuge 
 again, as it has so often and so long been before." 
 
 " Humph ! " said McGlowrie, " perhaps so 'tis best. 
 None know you at Wandsworth?" 
 
 " None. No living soul except the woman of the 
 house a true one. Her father fell in the Cause in the 
 ' 15 ' at Sherriffmuir. She is safe." 
 
 " So be it. Then away with you to yon village, and 
 trust me to manage things in this one. Now, off 
 wi' you, Archie, but first make some change in your 
 clothing." 
 
 " But how ? I have no other clothes but those I 
 
 wear." 
 
 "Hoot! a small changement is easy, and some- 
 times, so to speak as it were, effectual. Off with that 
 hat and wig." And as he spoke he took off each of 
 his.
 
 Ug DENOUNCED. 
 
 " You will lose by the exchange, Jemmy," said 
 Archibald. " Mine is but a rusty bob and a poor hat; 
 both yours are very good." 
 
 " No matter. To-morrow at the lodgment we will 
 change again." 
 
 Therefore, with his appearance considerably al- 
 tered, Archibald Sholto prepared now to set out for 
 Wandsworth. But ere he did so he said one word to 
 honest James McGlowrie. 
 
 "Jemmy," he remarked, "make no mistake about 
 Ka Lady Fordingbridge and this meeting with Bertie 
 Elphinston to which she has gone. She is as good 
 and pure a woman as ever lived and suffered. I have 
 known her from a child, gave her her first communion ; 
 there is no speck of ill in her." 
 
 " Lived and suffered, eh ? " repeated the other. 
 
 " Ay, lived and suffered ! The man she has gone 
 to meet was to have been her husband ; they loved 
 each other with all their hearts and souls; and by foul 
 treachery she was stolen from him by that most un- 
 paralleled scoundrel, Fordingbridge. Remember that, 
 Jemmy, when you see her to-night ; remember she is 
 as pure a woman as your mother was, and respect her 
 for all that she has endured." 
 
 "Have no fear," said Jemmy, manfully, "have no 
 fear. Although ye are a Papist, Archie, and a priest 
 at that, I'll e'en take your word for it." 
 
 So, with a light laugh from the Jesuit at the rigid 
 and plain-spoken Presbyterianism of his old school- 
 fellow and whilom fag, they parted with a grasp of the 
 hand, each to what he had to do. That James Mc- 
 Glowrie carried out his portion of the undertaking 
 has been already told, as well as how, after the in- 
 formation he gave Lady Fordingbridge, she decided
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. 
 
 to accept Lady Belrose's offer of her house as a refuge, 
 if only temporarily ; and how he afterwards became a 
 messenger from her to Bertie Elphinston. 
 
 As for Archibald Sholto, he, too, did that which he 
 had said would be best. He made his way from Ken- 
 sington to Chelsea and so to Wandsworth, only to find 
 when he had arrived there that his brother and friend 
 had long since for it was by then nine o'clock de- 
 parted for Vauxhall. Therefore he said a few words 
 to the landlady herself an adherent of the Stuarts, as 
 she, whose father had fallen at Sherriffmuir, was cer- 
 tain to be telling her that it was doubtful if they 
 would ever return to their lodgings, but that, if they 
 did, she must manage to send them off at once. He 
 told her, too, the address of the Minories where he 
 could be communicated with, under cover to Mc- 
 Glowrie, and, since he it was who had sent them as 
 lodgers to her house, he gave her some money on 
 their account. Then he left her and, thorough and 
 indomitable in all he did, made his way to the Spring 
 Gardens. 
 
 " If they are there," he thought, as he waited out- 
 side the inn in Wandsworth an old one, known then, 
 as now, as the Spread Eagle, while the horse was be- 
 ing put into the shafts of the hackney coach he had 
 hired, " I may see them in time to warn them. Dressed 
 as the executioner, the woman said of Bertie and 
 Douglas, without any disguise, though in a garb that 
 will be supposed to be one in that place ; there should 
 be no difficulty in finding them if they are still there. 
 Thank God, they were not caught in their lodgings." 
 
 He did not know, nor could the landlady have told 
 him not knowing herself of how they had been 
 watched and followed from the village to Vauxhall ;
 
 I20 DENOUNCED. 
 
 so he passed his time on the lonely drive through the 
 Battersea marshes in meditating how this last act of 
 treachery of Lord Fordingbridge was to be repaid. 
 For that it should be so repaid, and with interest, 
 Archibald Sholto had already determined. " Though 
 not for his baseness to me so much," he muttered, 
 "as to those whom I love. For since to me, a priest, 
 there can be no home, no wife, no children, I have 
 centred all my heart upon those three my brother, 
 our friend Bertie, and poor, bonnie Kate. And those 
 it is against whom he has struck. May God forget 
 me if I strike not equally, ay ! and with more certainty 
 than he has done, when my hour comes." 
 
 A good friend was Archibald Sholto, Jesuit though 
 he was, but a terrible foe. As you shall see. 
 
 On his way to the garden he passed half a dozen 
 young men of fashion who, from their talk and ac- 
 tions, he knew to be about to assist at a duel, and, 
 forgetting that he was in secular garb, he could not 
 forbear from addressing them in his priestly character 
 and begging them to desist from the sin they contem- 
 plated. But they bade him pass on and not interfere 
 in what concerned him not, while one, striking at the 
 horse with his clouded cane, caused the animal to dash 
 off upon the uneven road or track. These, doubtless, 
 were the men for whom the boatmen who ferried 
 Bertie and Douglas across later on were waiting. 
 
 So he reached the gardens, but only to find that 
 most of the company was already gone, and that, with 
 the exception of a few revellers who would keep the 
 night up so long as it were possible, none of the mas- 
 queraders remained. Yet, even from these he gath- 
 ered enough to set his mind fairly at rest ; for, hap- 
 pening to hear one of them speak of the " merry
 
 ARCHIBALD'S ESCAPE. I2I 
 
 disturbance " which had taken place that night, and 
 also boast somewhat loudly of how he had assisted 
 the Jacobites in resisting the limbs of the law, he, by 
 great suavity and apparent admiration of the speak- 
 er's prowess, managed to extract from him a more or 
 less accurate account of what had taken place. 
 
 Thus he learned that, in some way, his brother and 
 friend had made their escape aided, of course, by the 
 pot-valiant hero to whom he was listening and also 
 that the " ladies of fashion " and the gentlemen by 
 whom they were accompanied had also departed with- 
 out molestation. " Though," continued the narrator, 
 as he swallowed the last drop of brandy in his glass 
 and then looked ruefully at the empty vessel, "I 
 know not if they would have been allowed to go so 
 freely had not I and my friend assisted in protecting 
 them." 
 
 After that Archibald withdrew, and, on foot, made 
 his way to the City, while as he crossed London 
 Bridge nearly two hours later for he was weary with 
 all that had happened that day the sun came up and 
 lighted with a rosy hue the Tower lying on his right 
 hand. 
 
 " Ay," he muttered. " Ay, many's the poor aching 
 heart within your walls this morning besides the 
 doomed Balmerino, Cromartie, and Kilmarnock for 
 nought can save them ; thank God that some at least 
 are free at present. But how long will they be so ? 
 How long ? How long?"
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HEY! FOR FRANCE. 
 
 DURING the time which elapsed between the event- 
 ful proceedings of that day and the time when my 
 Lord Fordingbridge agitated by receiving no news 
 in Cheshire from his wife returned to London, all 
 those whom this history has principally to deal with 
 met together with considerable frequency. 
 
 For, whether the clue was lost to the whereabouts 
 of Elphinston and the Sholtos, or whether the Govern- 
 ment was growing sick of the wholesale butchery of 
 Jacobites which was going on in Scotland and Eng- 
 land though it would scarce seem so, since two of the 
 lords in the Tower and some score of other victims 
 were yet to be executed and their remains to be bru- 
 tally used at least those three friends were still at 
 large. Archibald Sholto was in hiding at James Mc- 
 Glowrie's lodgings in the Minories, in the neighbour- 
 hood of which that honest gentleman was much en- 
 gaged in the grain and cattle trade between London 
 and Scotland and also Holland and France. Farther 
 east still was Bertie Elphinston, he being close to the 
 spot where the unhappy Lady Balmerino, his kins- 
 woman, was lodged ; while in the West End, or rather 
 the west of London, at the Kensington Gravel Pits, 
 and under the roof of no less a person than Sir Charles 
 Ames, Douglas had found a home and hiding place. 
 
 122
 
 HEY! FOR FRANCE. I23 
 
 As for Kate and her father, they were in Hanover- 
 square, the guests of Lady Belrose, and were to remain 
 as such until the former had had an interview with 
 Fordingbridge. " For," said Kate to her friend who, 
 although a comparatively new one, was proving her- 
 self to be very staunch, " then I shall know, then I 
 shall be able to decide ; though even now my deci- 
 sion is taken, my mind made up. Who can doubt that 
 it is he who has done this ? He and no other. No 
 other ! " 
 
 " Indeed, dear," replied her hostess, as she bade 
 her black boy a present from her devoted admirer, 
 Sir Charles go get the urn filled, for they were 
 drinking tea after dinner, "indeed, dear, no one, I 
 think, from all that you have told me. Yet if you 
 leave him, what is to become of you and Mr. Fane ? 
 You have, you say pardon me for even referring to 
 such a thing no very good means of subsistence. I," 
 went on her ladyship, speaking emphatically, "should 
 at least take my settlement. I would not, positively I 
 would not, allow the wretch to benefit by keeping that. 
 No, indeed ! " 
 
 " If," replied Kate, " 'tis as I fear nay, as I know 
 it is, I will not touch one farthing of his. Not one 
 farthing. I will go forth, and he Shall be as though I 
 had never seen or spoken to him." 
 
 "But," asked the more practical woman of the 
 world, "what will you do, dear? You cannot live on 
 air, and which is almost worse you cannot marry 
 someone who will give you a good home. And you 
 so pretty, too ! " she added. 
 
 " Marry again ! " exclaimed Kate, her eyes glistening 
 as she spoke. " Heaven forbid! Have I not had enough 
 of marriage ? One experience should suffice, I think."
 
 124 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " It has indeed been a sad one," answered Lady 
 Belrose, who had herself no intention of continuing 
 her widowhood much longer, and was indeed at that 
 moment privately affianced to Sir Charles Ames. 
 " But, Kate, if your monster were dead you might be 
 happy yet." 
 
 " No, no," the other replied, " never. And he is 
 not dead, nor like to die. I am, indeed, far more likely 
 to die than he since the doctors all say I am far 
 from strong, though I do not perceive it." 
 
 "But what will you do ?" again asked the practical 
 hostess. " How live ? Mr. Fane has, you say, no 
 longer sufficient youth or activity to earn a living for 
 you at the fence school can you, dear, earn enough 
 for both ? " 
 
 "I think so," Kate replied, "by returning to Paris. 
 That we must do there is nothing to be earned here. 
 But, in Paris, Archibald Sholto has much influence in 
 the court circles ; he knows even the King and and 
 the new favourite, La Pompadour, who has deposed 
 Madame de Chateauroux. Also he is a friend of Car- 
 dinal Tencin, who owes much to the exiled Stuarts. 
 It is, he thinks, certain that some place either at the 
 court, or in the prince's household if he has escaped 
 from Scotland, which God grant ! or in the Chevalier 
 St. George's, at Rome, might be found for me a place 
 which would enable me to keep my old father from 
 want for the rest of his life." 
 
 " Kate, you are a brave woman, and a good one, 
 too, for from what you have told me your father him- 
 self has behaved none too well to you, and " 
 
 "I must forget that," the other replied, "and re- 
 member only how for years he struggled hard to keep 
 a home for us, to bring me UD as a lady. I must put
 
 HEY ! FOR FRANCE. 
 
 125 
 
 away every thought of his one wrong to me and re- 
 member only all that he has done for my good." 
 
 Meanwhile Kate's determination to part from her 
 husband if, as no one doubted, he it was who had en- 
 deavoured to betray the others to the Government was 
 well known to her three friends ; and therefore, with 
 them as with her and her father, preparations were 
 being hurried on by which they also might return to 
 France. For them there was, as there had been be- 
 fore the invasion of Scotland and England, the means 
 whereby to exist ; Douglas and Bertie had not sacri- 
 ficed their commissions in the French regiments to 
 which they belonged, and Archibald was employed by 
 the Stuart cause as an agent, was also a member of the 
 College of St. Omer, and was a priest of St. Eustache. 
 That Bertie Elphinston would ever have left London 
 while his kinsman and the head of his house, Arthur, 
 Lord Balmerino, lay in the Tower awaiting his trial and 
 certain death was not to be supposed, had not a mes- 
 sage come from that unhappy nobleman ordering him 
 to go. Also, he bade him waste no time in remaining 
 where he was hourly in danger and could, at the same 
 time, be of no earthly good. 
 
 "He bids me tell you, Bertie," said Lady Balme- 
 rino, in a meeting which she contrived to have with the 
 young man on one of those evenings when both were 
 lodged in the Eastend, and while she wept piteously 
 as she spoke, " he bids me tell you that it is his last 
 commandment to you, as still the head of your house 
 and the name you bear, to flee from England. The 
 rank and title of Balmerino must die with him, but 
 he lays upon you the task of bearing and, he hopes, 
 perpetuating the name of Elphinston honourably. 
 Also he sends vou his blessing as from a dying old
 
 I2 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 man to a young one, bids you trust in God and also 
 serve the House of Stuart while there is any member 
 of it left. And if more be needed to make you fly, 
 he orders you to do it for your mother's sake." 
 
 After that Elphinston knew where his duty lay 
 knew that he must return to France. It was hard, he 
 swore, to leave England and also, thereby, to leave 
 the scoundrel Fordingbridge behind and alive, still 
 he felt that it must be so. Fordingbridge merited 
 death yet he must escape it ! 
 
 But he had one consolation, too. Ere long Kate 
 would be back in Paris it was not possible that her 
 husband could be innocent therefore he would some- 
 times see her. A poor consolation, indeed, he told 
 himself, to simply be able to see the woman who was 
 to have been his wife yet was now another man's no 
 power on earth, no determination on her part to sever 
 her existence from Fordingbridge could alter that! 
 yet it was something. Consequently, he with the 
 others set about the plans for their departure. 
 
 Now, to so arrange and manage for this departure, 
 they looked to James McGlowrie, who had both the 
 will and the power to help them. 
 
 An old acquaintance of his in Scotland, when both 
 were boys who had not then gone forth into the world, 
 McGlowrie had kept up an occasional correspond- 
 ence with Archibald Sholto until the present time, 
 and thereby had been able to afford him assistance 
 and had proved himself invaluable when Fording- 
 bridge informed against them. Indeed, had McGlowrie 
 not known where Archibald Sholto was living when in 
 London, Geordie McNab's information derived from 
 the Scotch Secretary's Office could never have been 
 utilized, and Archibald Sholto must at least have
 
 HEY! FOR FRANCE. I2 j 
 
 been taken. And now he was to be even more prac- 
 tically useful than before it was in his cattle-trading 
 boats that all were, one by one, to be conveyed to the 
 continent. " Though," said Jemmy, as he arranged 
 plans with them one night in a little inn at Limehouse 
 where they were in the habit of meeting, and where 
 there was little danger of their being discovered, " I 
 can give none of ye any certain guarantee, so to speak 
 as it were, of ye getting over in safety. Infernal 
 sloops o* war and bomb-ketches, and the devil knows 
 what else, are prowling about the waters looking for 
 rebels, and as like as not may light upon the one or 
 other of you." 
 
 " We must risk that," said Bertie. " Great heavens! 
 what have we not risked far worse ? " 
 
 "Vary weel," replied McGlowrie; "then let one of 
 you begin the risk to-morrow night. And you it had 
 best be, Mr. Elphinston. My little barky drops down 
 the river then, and once you're round the North Fore- 
 land you will be safe, or nearly so, to reach Calais. 
 Be ready by seven to-morrow night." 
 
 "Why do you select me to go first, Mr. McGlowrie? 
 I have quite as many, if not more, interests in England 
 than either Douglas or Archie." 
 
 " Um ! " muttered honest Jemmy, who did not care 
 to say that he thought a man who was philandering 
 about after a married woman was best got out of the 
 way as soon as possible, though such was, indeed, his 
 opinion, he being a strict moralist. " Um ! I thought 
 the noble lord had laid his commands on ye to be off and 
 awa' at anst. The head of the family must be obeyed." 
 
 "Also," said Archibald Sholto, "you have your 
 mother to think of. We have no mother. Bertie, 
 you had best go to-morrow night."
 
 I2 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "And you have seen Kate," whispered gentle 
 Douglas Sholto, who took, perhaps, a more romantic 
 view of things for he had known of their love from 
 the first and, from almost envying them at its com- 
 mencement, had now come to pity them, " have made 
 y.our farewells. If you get safe to France you must 
 of a surety meet again for Fordingbridge is a villain, 
 and she will keep her word and part from him is it 
 not best you go at once ? " 
 
 " You and I have always gone together, Douglas, 
 hand in hand in all things," his friend replied ; " I like 
 not parting from you now." 
 
 "Still let it be so, I beg you. Remember, once we 
 are back in Paris all will be as happy as it has been 
 before, or nearly so, and there will be no Fording- 
 bridge there. He, at least, will not be by us to set 
 the blood tingling in our veins with the desire to slay 
 him." 
 
 " So be it," said Bertie, " I will go." 
 
 This being therefore decided, McGlowrie gave his 
 counsel as to what was to be done. The " little 
 barky " of which he had spoken was in the habit of 
 taking over to Calais good black cattle in exchange 
 for French wines (what did it matter if sometimes the 
 bottles were stuffed full of lace instead of Bordeaux ?), 
 silks, and ribbons, and it was as a drover he proposed 
 Elphinston should go. The duties would be nothing, 
 and the assumption of them would be a sufficient ex- 
 planation of his being on board. 
 
 "And then," said he, "when once you set your 
 foot on Calais sands you can again become Captain 
 Elphinston of the regiment of Picardy, and defy King 
 Geo hoot ! what treason am I talking ? " 
 
 It was the truth that he had seen Kate again since
 
 HEY! FOR FRANCE. I2 g 
 
 the night of the conflict at Vauxhall, and then, stung 
 to madness by the renewed villainy and treachery of 
 her husband, he had pleaded to her to let him seek out 
 Fordingbridge and slay him with his own hands. But, 
 bitterly as she despised and hated the man who had 
 brought them such grief and sorrow, she refused to 
 even listen to so much as a suggestion of his doing 
 this. 
 
 " No, no, no ! " she exclaimed, shuddering at the 
 very idea of such a tragedy. " No, no. What benefit 
 would it be to you or to me to have the stain of his 
 blood on our hands?" 
 
 " It would remove for ever the obstacle between 
 us," he said; "would set you free; would place us 
 where we were before." 
 
 " Never, never," she replied. " I have been his 
 wife though such by fraud and trickery and if he 
 were dead, God knows I could not mourn him; yet I 
 will not be his murderess, his executioner, as I shall 
 be if I let you slay him. If he fell by your hand, I 
 could never look upon- your face again. Moreover, 
 even were I hardened enough to do so which I am 
 not do you not know that the French law permits no 
 man to become the husband of a woman whose first 
 husband he has slain? We should be as far apart 
 then as ever nay, farther, with his death between us 
 always." 
 
 " I know, I know," he said, recognising, however, 
 as he did so that there was no possibility of his taking 
 vengeance on Fordingbridge, since by doing so he 
 would thus place such a barrier between them. " Yet 
 there are other lands where one may live besides 
 France and England. There is Sweden, where every 
 soldier is welcome ; there is "
 
 130 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Cease, I beseech you, cease ! It can never be. 
 If in God's good time He sees fit to punish him, he 
 will do so. If not, I must bear the lot that has fallen 
 to me. Meanwhile be assured that once I find he has 
 done this act of treachery, I shall never return to him." 
 
 " And we shall meet in Paris that is, if ever I can 
 get back there ?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "We shall meet in Paris; 
 for it is there I must go. There, at least, I must find 
 a means of existence ; though, since now we under- 
 stand, since we have forgiven each other is it not so ? 
 'twould perhaps be best that we should not meet 
 again." 
 
 " No, no," he protested. " No, no. For even 
 though this snake has crept in between us so that 
 never more can we be to each other what what my 
 God ! what we once were ; so that there must be no 
 love, no passing of our days, our lives, together side 
 by side yet, Kate, we can at least know that the 
 other is well if not happy ; we can meet sometimes. 
 Can we not ? answer me." 
 
 "Oh, go!" she exclaimed, breaking down at his 
 words and weeping piteously, as she sank into a chair 
 and buried her head in her hands. " Go ! In mercy, 
 go! I cannot bear your words; they break my heart. 
 Leave me, I beseech you ! " 
 
 So because he, too, could bear the interview no 
 longer, and could not endure to see her misery he 
 left her, taking her hand and kissing it ere he de- 
 parted, and whispering in her ear that soon they 
 would meet again.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MAN AND WIFE. 
 
 THE hackney coach drew up at Lady Belrose's 
 house in Hanover-square a couple of hours after it had 
 left Kensington-square, and Lord Fordingbridge, de- 
 scending from it, rang a loud peal upon the bell. 
 
 For some reason the whereof was perhaps not 
 known to him, or could not have been explained by 
 even his peculiarly constituted mind he had attired 
 himself for the two interviews with great care. His 
 black velvet suit, trimmed with silver lace for he wore 
 mourning for the late viscount was of the richest ; 
 his thick hair was now confined beneath a handsome 
 tye-wig, and his ruffles and breast lace were the finest 
 in his possession. Yet he, knowing himself to be the 
 unutterable scoundrel he was, could scarcely suppose 
 that this sumptuousness of attire was likely to have 
 much effect upon the woman who had deserted him for 
 a cause which he had not the slightest difficulty in im- 
 agining. Perhaps, however, it was assumed for the 
 benefit of the Duke of Newcastle, with whom he had 
 had a satisfactory interview. 
 
 " Lady Fordingbridge is living here," he said qui- 
 etly, but with a sternness he considered fitting to the 
 occasion, to the grave elderly man who opened the 
 door to him a man whose appearance, Lady Bel- 
 rose frequently observed, would have added respect- 
 
 131
 
 132 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 ability to the household of a bishop " show me to 
 her." 
 
 The footman looked inquiringly at him for a mo- 
 ment ; he was not accustomed to such imperious orders 
 from any of her ladyship's visitors, however handsome 
 an appearance they might present. Then he said : 
 
 " Lady Belrose lives here. Lady Fordingbridge is 
 her guest. And if you wish to see her, sir, I must 
 know whose name to announce." 
 
 " I am her husband, Lord Fordingbridge. Be good 
 enough to announce that, and at once." 
 
 The staid man-servant gave him a swift glance it 
 was not to be doubted that many a gossip had been 
 held below stairs as to the reason why Lady Fording- 
 bridge had quitted and caused to be shut up her own 
 house, only to come and dwell at his mistress's then 
 he invited his lordship to follow him into the morning 
 room on the right of the door. 
 
 "I will tell her ladyship," he said, and so left him. 
 
 When he was alone, Lord Fordingbridge, after a 
 hasty glance round the room, and a sneer at the por- 
 traits of a vast number of simpering young men which 
 hung on the walls her admirers, he considered, no 
 doubt took a seat upon the couch and pondered over 
 the coming interview with his wife. 
 
 " It is time," he thought, " that things should draw 
 to a conclusion. For," he said, as though addressing 
 Kate herself, " I have had enough of you, my lady. 
 You have long ceased to be a wife to me never were 
 one, indeed, but for a month, and then but a very in- 
 different spouse, a cold-hearted, cold-blooded jade; 
 now it is time you should cease to be so much in even 
 name. So, so. You shall be stripped of your bor- 
 rowed plumage; we will see then how you like the
 
 MAN AND WIFE. 
 
 133 
 
 position of affairs. I myself am heartily sick of 
 them." 
 
 He had no premonition of what Kate might be 
 about to say to him when she should enter the room in 
 which he now sat; yet he had a very strong suspicion 
 that her remarks would consist of accusations against 
 him of having betrayed the Sholtos and Elphinston. 
 
 "Well, well," he said, -"let her accuse. I have the 
 last card. It is a strong one. It should win the trick." 
 
 Yet at the same time, strong as any card might be 
 which he held in his hand, he would have given a good 
 deal to have known where at the present moment those 
 three men might be harbouring whom he had endeav- 
 oured so strongly to give to the hangman's hands. 
 And once, as a sudden thought came to his mind a 
 thought that almost made the perspiration burst out 
 upon him a thought that they might all be in this 
 very house and appear suddenly to take vengeance on 
 him for his treachery ! he nearly rose from his seat 
 as though to fly while there was yet time. But, coward 
 though he was, both physically and morally, he had 
 strength to master his impulse, and, in spite of his 
 fears that at any moment Elphinston, whom he had 
 wronged the worst of all, might enter the room, to re- 
 main seated where he was. 
 
 Still his eyes sought ever the hands of the clock as 
 moment after moment went by and his wife failed to 
 come, until at last he was wrought to so high a pitch 
 of nervousness that he started at any sound inside and 
 outside of the house. A man bawling the news in the 
 street or blowing the horn, which at that time the 
 newsboys carried to proclaim their approach, set his 
 nerves and fibres tingling ; the laughter of some of the 
 domestics in the kitchens below him had an equally
 
 ,34 DENOUNCED. 
 
 jarring effect, and when aloud knock came at the street 
 door he quivered as though the avenging Elphinston 
 was indeed there. Then, at last, the door opened sud- 
 denly, and his wife stood before him. 
 
 He saw in one swift glance that she was very pale 
 she, whose complexion had once been as the rose- 
 blush and this he could understand. It was not 
 strange she should be so. What he could not under- 
 stand was the habit in which she appeared, the manner 
 in which she was attired. Ever since she had become 
 his wife he had caused her to be arrayed in the richest, 
 most costly dresses he could afford ; had desired, nay, 
 had commanded, that in all outward things she should 
 carry out the character of Lady Fordingbridge; that 
 her gowns, her laces, her wigs, should all be suitable 
 to his position. 
 
 Yet now she appeared shorn of all those adorn- 
 ments which his common, pitiful mind regarded as part 
 and parcel of his dignity. The dress she wore was a 
 simple black one, made of a material which the hum- 
 blest lady in the land might have had on, without lace 
 or trimmings or any adornment whatsoever. Also on 
 her head there was no towering wig, nor powder, nor 
 false curls; instead, her own sweet golden hair was 
 neatly brushed back into a great knot behind. Nor 
 on her hands, nor on her neck, was any jewellery, save 
 only the one ring which, from the day he had put it 
 on her finger, she had ever regarded as a badge of 
 slavery. 
 
 " Madam," he said, rising and advancing towards 
 her, while as he did so she retreated back towards the 
 door, " Madam, I have come here to desire an explana- 
 tion from you as to why I find you gone from my 
 house and living under the shelter of another person's
 
 MAN AND WIFE. ,35 
 
 roof. And also, I have to ask," he continued, letting 
 his eye fall upon the plainness of her attire, " why you 
 present yourself before me in such a garb as you now 
 wear ? I must crave an immediate answer, madam." 
 
 "I am here to give it," she replied. "And since I 
 do not doubt that it is the last time you and I will ever 
 exchange words again in the world, that answer shall 
 be full and complete. But, first, do you answer me 
 this, Lord Fordingbridge. Was it by your craft that 
 Mr.. Elphinston and Douglas and Archibald Sholto 
 were denounced ? " 
 
 She spoke very calmly ; in her voice there was no 
 tremor; also he could see that her hands, in one of 
 which she held a small packet, did not quiver. 
 
 "Madam," he replied, endeavouring to also assume 
 a similar calmness, but not succeeding particularly 
 well, while at the same time one of those strong 
 waves of passion rose in his breast which he had hith- 
 erto always mastered when engaged in discussion with 
 her, " madam, by what right do you ask me such a 
 question as this ? What does it concern you if I 
 choose to denounce Jacobite plotters to the Govern- 
 ment ? Nothing ! And again I ask why you have left 
 my roof for that of the worldling with whom you have 
 taken refuge, and why you appear before me in a 
 garb more befitting a mercer's apprentice than my 
 wife ?" 
 
 " Your equivocation condemns you. Simeon Lar- 
 pent, it was you who played the spy, you who were the 
 denouncer of those three men. I knew that there 
 could be no doubt on that score." 
 
 "And again I say, what if I did? What then? 
 What does it concern you ? What have you to do 
 with it ?"
 
 136 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " I have this to do," she replied ; " but that which 
 is to be done shall be done before witnesses," and step- 
 ping to the bell rope, she pulled it strongly, so that 
 the peal rang through the house. 
 
 "Witnesses!" he exclaimed. "Witnesses! None 
 are required. Yet, be careful ; I warn you ere it is 
 too late. If you summon witnesses to this interview, 
 they may chance to hear that which, to prevent their 
 hearing, you would rather have died. Be careful what 
 you do, madam." 
 
 As he finished, the footman opened the door, and, 
 without hesitating one moment, she said to the 
 man : 
 
 "Ask the two gentlemen to step this way." 
 
 " Two gentlemen ! " he repeated ; " two gentlemen ! 
 So, this is a trap ! Who are the two gentlemen, 
 pray ? " and as he spoke he drew his sword. " If, as I 
 suspect, they are the two bullies your lover, whom 
 you meet at masquerades, whom you give assignations 
 to, and his friend they shall at least find that I can 
 defend myself." 
 
 In truth, bold as he seemed, he was now in great 
 fear. He expected nothing else but that, when the 
 door again opened, Sholto and Elphinston would ap- 
 pear before him, and he began to quake and to think 
 his last hour was come. His treachery was, he feared, 
 soon to be repaid. 
 
 She made no answer to his vile taunt about her 
 lover, nor did she take any heed of the drawn sword 
 that shook in his hand; had she been a statue she 
 could not have stood more still as she regarded him 
 with contempt and scorn. 
 
 Then the door did open, and Sir Charles Ames and 
 Douglas Sholto entered the room. The first he did
 
 MAN AND WIFE. l ,j 
 
 not know ; had, indeed, never seen him before ; but at 
 the sight of the other he grasped his weapon mor*e 
 firmly, expecting that ere another moment had passed 
 the hands of the young Highlander would be at his 
 throat, and that he would have to defend his life 
 against him. To his intense surprise Sholto treated 
 him with as much indifference as if he too had been a 
 statue; after one glance which, if disdain could have 
 the power to slay, would have withered him as he 
 stood he took no further heed of him. As for Sir 
 Charles Ames, he, observing the drawn weapon in the 
 other's hand, smiled contemptuously, shrugged his 
 shoulders, and then took his place behind Lady Ford- 
 ingbridge and by the side of Douglas. 
 
 " Sir Charles and you, Douglas," she said, " fosgive 
 me for asking you to be present at this interview, yet 
 I do so because I desire that in after days there shall 
 be one or two men, at least, to testify to that which I 
 now do." Then, turning towards her husband, who 
 still stood where he had risen on her entrance, she 
 said: 
 
 " Simeon Larpent, since first I met you to my 
 eternal unhappiness your life has been one long lie, 
 one base deceit. The first proposals ever made to me 
 by you were degrading to an honest woman, were in- 
 famy to listen to. Next, you obtained me for your 
 wife by more lies, by more duplicity, by more deceit. 
 Also, from the time I have been your wife, you, your- 
 self a follower of the unhappy house of Stuart by 
 birth and bringing up, have endeavoured in every way 
 to encompass the death of three followers of the same 
 cause, because one of those men was to have been my 
 husband had not you foully wronged him to me; be- 
 cause the other two were his and my friends."
 
 138 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 She paused a moment as though to gather fresh 
 energy for her denunciation of him ; and he, craven as 
 he was, stood there before her, white to the very lips, 
 and with his eyes wandering from one to the other of 
 the two listeners. Then she continued : 
 
 " For all this, Simeon Larpent, but especially for 
 that which you have last done, for this your last piece 
 of cruel, wicked treachery, for this your last bitter, 
 tigerish endeavour to destroy three men who had 
 otherwise been safe, I renounce and deny you for 
 ever." 
 
 All started as she uttered these words, but without 
 heeding them she continued : 
 
 " For ever. I disavow you, I forswear you as my 
 husband. I have long ceased to be aught to you but 
 a wife in name ; henceforth I will not be so much as 
 that. I have quitted your house. I quit now and 
 part with for so long as I shall live your name, the 
 share in the rank that you smirch and befoul. From 
 to-day I will never willingly set eyes on you again, 
 never speak one word to you, though you lay dying 
 at my feet, never answer to the name of Fording- 
 bridge. I return to what I was; I become once more 
 Katherine Fane." 
 
 He, standing before her, moistened his lips as 
 though about to speak, but again she went on, taking 
 now from off her finger the one ring that alone she 
 wore. Placing it on the table, she continued: 
 
 " Thus I discard you, thus I sever to all eternity 
 the bond that binds me to you ; a bond that no priest, 
 no Church, shall ever persuade or force me into again 
 recognising." And with these words she placed also 
 on the table the package she had brought into the 
 room with her.
 
 MAN AND WIFE. j^n 
 
 " There," she said, " is every trinket you have 
 given me, except the jewellery of your family, which 
 you have possession of. At your own house is every 
 dress and robe, every garment I own that has been 
 bought with your money. So the severance is made. 
 Again I say that I renounce you and deny you. From 
 to-day, Lord Fordingbridge, your existence ceases for 
 me." 
 
 It seemed that she had spoken her last word. 
 With an inclination of her head towards those two 
 witnesses whom she had summoned to hear her de- 
 nunciation, she moved towards the door, while they, 
 after casting one glance at him, the Denounced, stand- 
 ing there Sir Charles Ames, conveying in his looks 
 all the ineffable disdain which a polished gentleman of 
 the world might be supposed to feel towards another 
 who had fallen so low, and Douglas -regarding him as 
 a man regards some savage, ignoble beast prepared 
 to follow her. 
 
 Then, at last, he found his voice a harsh and rau- 
 cous one, as though emotion, or hate, or rage were 
 stifling its natural tones and exclaimed ere they 
 could quit the room: 
 
 "Stay. The last word is not yet said. You, 
 Katherine Fane, as you elect, wisely, to call yourself 
 henceforth, and you, her witnesses, listen to what ] 
 have now to say. This parley, this conference, call it 
 what you will, may justly be completed." 
 
 She paused and looked at him disdainfully, and 
 careless as to what he might have to say in this her 
 final interview with him and they, doing as she did, 
 paused also. 
 
 Then he continued, still speaking hoarsely ; 
 
 clearly enough : 
 10
 
 I40 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " You have said, madam, that you renounce and 
 deny me for ever; that you are resolved never more 
 to share my rank or title, nor again to bear my name. 
 Are you so certain that 'tis yours to so refuse or so 
 renounce at your good will and pleasure ?" 
 
 " What, sir, do you mean by such questions ? " 
 asked Sir Charles Ames, speaking now for the first 
 time. But Lord Fordingbridge, heeding him not, con- 
 tinued to address her, and now, as he spoke, he raised 
 his hand and pointed his finger at her. 
 
 " You have been very scornful, very cold and dis- 
 dainful since first we came together, madam, treating 
 me ever to your most bitter dislike, while all the time 
 every thought and idea of yours was given to another 
 man all the time, I say, while you continued to bear 
 the title of the Viscountess Fordingbridge. Once 
 more, I ask, are you so sure that this title was yours 
 to fling away, the husband yours to renounce and deny 
 in your own good pleasure ? " 
 
 And his eyes glared at her now as he spoke, and 
 she knew that the devil which dwelt in him had got 
 possession. 
 
 " Be more explicit," she said, "or cease to speak at 
 all. If I could think, if I could awake as from an evil 
 dream and learn that I had never been your wife, 
 never plighted troth with you, I would upon my knees 
 thank God for such a mercy." 
 
 "Those thanks may be more due than you dream 
 of. How if I were to tell you ? " 
 
 " What ? " fell from the lips of all, while Douglas 
 took a step nearer to him, and Sir Charles felt sure 
 that in another moment they would be told of some 
 earlier marriage. " What ? " 
 
 For answer he went on, one finger raised and
 
 MAN AND WIFE. I4I 
 
 pointing at her as though to emphasize his re- 
 marks : 
 
 "You have taunted me often with the Jesuit edu- 
 cation I received at St. Omer at Lisbon. Well, it 
 was true : such an education I did receive at both 
 places. Only, madam my Lady Fordingbridge ! 
 Miss Fane ! have you never heard that one so 
 educated may, at such places, receive other things? 
 may become acolytes, priests ? What if / became 
 such ? what would you then be a priest ? " 
 
 " It is a lie ! " she exclaimed, " and you know it." 
 
 " Are you so sure ? Can you prove or, rather, 
 disprove it ? Answer me that answer, if you are sure 
 that you share my name and rank have power to re- 
 nounce them." 
 
 As he finished, Douglas sprang at him and, in spite 
 of his drawn sword, would have choked the life out of 
 him on the spot had not Sir Charles interceded, while 
 at the same moment Kitty's voice was heard bidding 
 him desist. 
 
 "Even so," she said, "true or untrue, it is best. 
 The infamy, if infamy there is, must be borne. At 
 least, I am free. Free! Am justified after these 
 hints!" 
 
 "Ay," Lord Fordingbridge said, "you may be free. 
 To do what, however? To fling yourself into your 
 lover's arms to-nightonly, where will you find him? 
 Newgate, the Tower, the New Gaol in Southwark are 
 full of such as he; 'tis there, Mistress Fane, that 
 doubtless you must seek him." 
 
 " And 'tis there," said Douglas Sholto, an inspira- 
 tion occurring suddenly to his mind, " that you shall 
 join him. The King has issued orders for every Jesuit 
 priest to be arrested who shall be found, or denounced,
 
 142 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 in these dominions, and, Jacobite though I am, with 
 my life at stake, I will drag you there with my own 
 hands ere you shall be suffered to escape. You have 
 proclaimed yourself, shown us the way ; by your own 
 lips shall you be judged."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 THAT Douglas had spoken out of the fury of his 
 heart and, consequently, without thought, was, how- 
 ever, very apparent at once ; for when Kate had 
 quitted the room, leaving Fordingbridge free from 
 the grasp of the former since Douglas, a second 
 after he had seized him, flung him trembling and 
 shivering on the couch Sir Charles Ames spoke and 
 said, as he drew Sholto aside to where the other would 
 not hear them : 
 
 " It would indeed serve the scoundrel right if he 
 were treated as you suggest. Only, unfortunately, 
 it is not possible. First of all, I believe this insinua- 
 tion is a lie." 
 
 " I am sure of it. If he had ever been admitted 
 a priest my brother must have known of it, and, in 
 any circumstances, the truth can soon be proved by 
 him. A letter to the head of the Jesuit College at 
 Lisbon from another Jesuit such as Archibald is will 
 prove his statement to be false." 
 
 "Yet even," said Sir Charles, "were he a Jesuit 
 priest and so subject to arrest and imprisonment in 
 this country, you would stand in far too much dan- 
 ger to bring it about. Also, he can tell too much, 
 as he would undoubtedly do if he was himself given 
 up. Let us consider what is best." 
 
 143
 
 144 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "I," replied Douglas, speaking in an even lower 
 whisper, so that the villain could not possibly hear 
 him, "go to-night, as you know. Archie probably 
 to-morrow, or the next night, and Bertie is already 
 gone. Surely it might somehow be done." 
 
 "Impossible," replied Sir Charles, "impossible. 
 Remember, we are in Lady Belrose's house; we must 
 bring no scandal upon her. No, that way will not 
 do." 
 
 " What then ? " asked Douglas. " What then ? 
 For I am determined that his power of doing any 
 harm shall be forever quenched now. We have him 
 in our hands, and we will hold him fast." 
 
 As he spoke he glanced where the traitor sat 
 glowering at them from the sofa. He seemed now 
 to 'be thoroughly cowed, thoroughly alarmed also for 
 his own safety, and his piercing black eyes scintil- 
 lated and twinkled more like the eyes of a hunted, 
 timorous creature than those of a man. Indeed, as 
 Douglas looked at him, it seemed as though Fording- 
 bridge were really mad with terror. Yet, abject as 
 he now was, the other shuddered again, as he had 
 more than once shuddered before when speaking of 
 or looking at the man. 
 
 "We must get him away from this house," said 
 Sir Charles. " I will have no disturbance here. 
 Come, let us take him to the park. There we can 
 talk at freedom, and, I think, so persuade his lordship 
 of our intentions that henceforth he will be harmless. 
 Do you agree ? " 
 
 Douglas nodded, whereon Sir Charles, advancing 
 into the room again, addressed Lord Fordingbridge. 
 
 " My lord," he said, in his coldest, most freezing 
 manner, "it were best you sheathed that sword," and
 
 I 4 5 
 
 he pointed to it as it lay beside him on the sofa. 
 " Such weapons are unfitted to a lady's house, and you 
 may be at ease no injury is intended you." 
 
 Fordingbridge gazed at him still with the terror- 
 stricken look in his eyes, the glance almost of mad- 
 ness or, at best, of imbecility ; yet he did as the baro- 
 net bade him, and replaced his weapon. But he uttered 
 no word. 
 
 " We shall be obliged," continued Sir Charles, " if 
 you will accompany us to St. James's Park. We have 
 something to say to you." 
 
 " If," said Fordingbridge, finding his voice at last, 
 "you intend to make me fight a duel with that man, I 
 will not do it. He 
 
 " There is," interrupted Douglas, " no thought of 
 such a thing. My sword is not made to cross one 
 borne by you." 
 
 "Very well," replied the other meekly, "I will 
 come." But, a moment later, he burst out into one of 
 his more natural methods of speaking, and cried, 
 " You have the whip hand of me for the moment, but 
 we shall see. We shall see." 
 
 "We shall," replied Sir Charles, calmly; "but if 
 your lordship is now ready we may as well depart. 
 We have already encroached somewhat on Lady Bel- 
 rose's hospitality." 
 
 The grave manservant seemed somewhat aston- 
 ished, when he opened the street door at a summons 
 from the bell, to observe the three gentlemen go down 
 the steps together and enter the hackney coach which 
 was still waiting for the viscount. Also he was sur- 
 prisedsince he and all the other servants in the 
 house had gathered a very accurate knowledge of 
 what had transpired in the small saloon to witness
 
 146 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the courteous manner in which Sir Charles motioned 
 to his lordship to enter the vehicle before him, and 
 then entered it himself, followed by Douglas. Next, 
 he heard the direction given to the man to drive to 
 St. James's Park, and retired, wondering what it all 
 meant. After the words he had by chance, of course 
 overheard in the room, he, too, naturally supposed 
 that a duel was about to be fought; but being a dis- 
 creet man, he only mentioned this surmise to his fel- 
 low-servants, and took care not to alarm his mistress. 
 
 Arrived in the park and the coach discharged by 
 Sir Charles, who even took so much of the ordering 
 of these proceedings upon himself as to pay the man 
 the hire demanded, the former, still with exquisite 
 politeness, requested Fordingbridge to avail himself 
 of a vacant bench close by, since he and his friend, 
 Mr. Sholto, had a few words to say to each other 
 before they laid their deliberations before him. And 
 Fordingbridge, still with the terror-stricken look upon 
 his face and the vacillating glance in his eyes, obeyed 
 without a word. 
 
 And now the others paced up and down the path 
 at a short distance from him, but always keeping him 
 well in their view, and the deliberations mentioned 
 by Sir Charles took some time in arriving at. But 
 they came to an end at last, and the baronet, drawing 
 near to the bench where Fordingbridge was seated, 
 proceeded to unfold them to him. 
 
 l( My lord," he said, speaking with great clearness 
 and cold distinctness, " you may perhaps think that I 
 should have no part in whatever has transpired be- 
 tween you and others. Yet I think I have. It fell 
 to my lot to my extreme good fortune to be of as- 
 sistance to the Viscountess Fordingbridge, for so I
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 147 
 
 shall continue to call her in spite of your observations 
 and disclosures this 1 morning, which I do not Relieve. 
 It fell to my lot, I repeat, to be of some service to her 
 ladyship on a certain night a week or two ago. That 
 service was rendered necessary by your betrayal of a 
 cause which you had once espoused, of a man whom 
 you had previously injured cruelly, and of another 
 man, Mr. Douglas, who had never injured you. There- 
 fore, I was of assistance to her ladyship, who was 
 more or less under my charge and protection that 
 evening, and I am glad to have been able to do so." 
 
 " I wish," muttered Fordingbridge hoarsely, glar- 
 ing at him, "that you had been at the devil before 
 you did so." 
 
 " Doubtless. But I was not. That service, how- 
 ever, and your visit to-day to the house of a lady who 
 is shortly about to honour me by becoming my wife, 
 justifies me, I think, in taking some part in these pro- 
 ceedings, though only as spokesman. In that char- 
 acter I now propose to tell you what Mr. Sholto intends 
 to do." 
 
 "What?" gasped Fordingbridge, moistening his 
 lips. 
 
 "First," said Sir Charles, unsparingly, " when he 
 has left the country, which he will do almost immedi- 
 ately, to denounce you to His Majesty's Government. 
 You are pledged by every oath that can be regarded 
 as sacred in any cause to the House of Stuart " 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Fordingbridge. " No. I am now 
 an adherent of the House of Hanover." 
 
 " I am afraid even that will be of little avail to you. 
 For, if you are, you are a double traitor. It was you 
 who planned the attack on the ' Fubbs,' which brought 
 the King from Herrenhausen at the outbreak of the
 
 148 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Scotch Invasion ; you who circulated the papers offer- 
 ing a la*rge reward for his assassination ; you who, but 
 a month or so ago, brought over with you Father 
 Sholto, the most notorious plotter among the Jesuits." 
 
 " I denounced him," whined Fordingbridge. " I 
 denounced him. That alone will save me from the 
 King's anger." 
 
 "That," replied Sir Charles, "is possible. I am 
 willing to allow it. But you are by your own confes- 
 sion a Jesuit priest, therefore you will be subject to 
 all the punishments and penalties now in force against 
 such persons. Also, you will have let loose against you 
 the whole of the anger of the Jesuits should His Maj- 
 esty be inclined to spare you when Mr. Sholto has 
 informed them of your treachery. You, as one your- 
 self, can best imagine what form that anger is likely 
 to take." 
 
 Fordingbridge gasped as he stared at the baronet ; 
 and now, indeed, it seemed as if the light of idiocy 
 alone shone in his eyes. 
 
 " But," went on Sir Charles, "you have also some- 
 thing else to reckon with, namely, the punishment 
 which your brother religionists may see fit to accord 
 to you for having, as a priest as you suggest your- 
 self gone through the form of matrimony. I have 
 not the honour to be of the Romanist religion myself, 
 therefore I do not know what shape that punishment 
 may take, but, from what Mr. Sholto tells me, it is for 
 your own sake to be hoped that you have hinted a lie 
 and are, indeed, no priest." 
 
 "Let me go," said Fordingbridge, "let me go." 
 Then he muttered, " Curses on you all. If I could kill 
 you both as you stand there, blast you both to death 
 before me, I would do it."
 
 149 
 
 "Without doubt," replied Sir Charles; "but if you 
 will pardon my saying it, your schemes for injuring 
 others seem to fall most extraordinarily harmless. And 
 I trust your aspirations for our ill will not take effect 
 until, at least, we have had time to put some leading 
 Jesuits in France if not here in possession of your 
 true character." 
 
 " Curse you both, curse you all," again muttered 
 Fordingbridge impotently. 
 
 " Now," continued Sir Charles, " I propose to ac- 
 company your lordship as far as the door of your own 
 house. Once I have seen you safe there, care will be 
 taken that you shall find no means of communicating 
 in any way with those who have it in their power to 
 injure our friends. When, however, they are beyond 
 your reach you will be free from observation, and will 
 be quite at liberty to devote yourself to making an- 
 other peace with the Government and with the Order 
 of the Jesuits. My lord, shall we now proceed to 
 Kensington-square ? " 
 
 " Have a care," said Fordingbridge, with an evil 
 droop of his eye at him, " have a care, however, for 
 yourself. If they escape me, you may not. A har- 
 bourer of Jacobites, an abettor in their escape from 
 England and from justice, I may yet do you an evil 
 turn, Sir Charles Ames." 
 
 " I do not doubt it if you have the power. But, 
 Lord Fordingbridge, you have so much to think of on 
 your own behalf, you will be so very much occupied in 
 you own affairs shortly what with the State on one 
 side and trfe Church (your Church) on the other that 
 I am afraid you will have but little time to devote to 
 me. And I think, my lord, I can hold my own against 
 you. Now, come."
 
 ,50 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Douglas shook hands with Sir Charles as they stood 
 apart once more from the wretched man, and after 
 one hearty grasp strode away through the park, leav- 
 ing. the other two alone. Yet he did not hesitate to 
 acknowledge the truth of the baronet's last whispered 
 words to him. 
 
 " Lose no time," that gentleman said as they parted, 
 " in putting the sea between you and England. Also 
 induce your brother to go at once. I have frightened 
 the craven cur sufficiently to keep him quiet for a day 
 or so alas ! mine are but idle threats. The Govern- 
 ment must find out his villainies for themselves, while 
 for his Church you must put them on the scent, but 
 afterwards I cannot answer for what he may do. Once 
 he finds that they are but idle threats he may go to 
 work again. Begone, therefore, both of you, and let 
 me hear when you are safe in France." 
 
 " Have no fear," Douglas replied ; " by to-morrow, 
 if all is well, we may be in Calais. McGlowrie sends 
 another vessel to-night. If possible, Archie and I, Kate 
 and her father, may be in it. But the day grows late, 
 there is much to do. Again farewell, and thanks, 
 thanks, thanks for all." 
 
 " He is safe from you," said the baronet, turning, 
 after Douglas was gone, to Fordingbridge. " Now, 
 my lord, I am ready." 
 
 " I will not go with you," replied the other, some 
 spark of manliness, or perhaps shame, rising in his 
 breast at the manner in which he was dominated by 
 this man whom, until to-day, he had never seen nor 
 heard of. " I will not go with you." 
 
 And he drew back from him and laid his hand upon 
 the hilt of his sword. 
 
 " No ? " inquired Sir Charles, with his most polished
 
 FLIGHT. jcj 
 
 air. Then he continued: "I am sorry my enforced 
 society should be so unwelcome." As he spoke he 
 glanced his eye round the grassy slopes of the park 
 and across the low brick wall which at that time sep- 
 arated it from Piccadilly. " I regret it very much. 
 But, my lord, I must not force myself where I am dis- 
 liked. Therefore, since I see a watchman outside who 
 appears to have little to occupy him, I will, with your 
 lordship's permission, ask him to accompany you and 
 see you safely home. Or, stay," and again his eye 
 roved over the grass, " there is a sergeant's guard pass- 
 ing towards Buckingham House your lordship can 
 see their conical caps over the bushes I will summon 
 them and relieve you of my presence, since it is so dis- 
 tasteful." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Fordingbridge, " if ever the time 
 should come if ever the chance is mine ! " 
 
 " It is not at present," replied the baronet. Then, 
 with an air of determination which until now he had not 
 assumed, he stamped his foot angrily and exclaimed : 
 " Come, sir, I will be trifled with no longer. Either 
 with me, or the watch, or the soldiers. But at once. 
 At once, I say ! " 
 
 And Fordingbridge, knowing he was beaten, went 
 with him. 
 
 A coach was found at the park wicket, into which 
 they entered and proceeded to Kensington, no word 
 being uttered by either during the drive. Then, when 
 they had arrived outside Fordingbridge's house, Sir 
 Charles, with a relaxation of the courteous manner 
 that he had previously treated the other to, said, coldly 
 
 and briefly : 
 
 " Remember, for two days you will have no oppor- 
 tunity of injuring anyone. That I shall take steps to
 
 I c >2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 prevent. Afterwards, you will have sufficient occupa- 
 tion in consulting your own welfare," and, raising his 
 three-cornered hat an inch, he entered the coach 
 again. Only, he thought it well to say to the driver in 
 a clear, audible voice which the other could not fail to 
 hear : 
 
 " Drive to Kensington Palace now ; I have business 
 with the officer of the guard." 
 
 With those terrifying words ringing in his ears 
 for Fordingbridge knew how, at that time, soldiers 
 quartered in the neighbourhood of suspected persons 
 acted as police act in these days, and were employed 
 often to make arrests of persons implicated with the 
 State he entered his house, locking himself in with a 
 key he carried. Then he proceeded at once to ring 
 the bells and shout for the deaf old servitor, Luke, 
 but without effect. There was no response to the 
 noise he made, no sound of the old man's heavy, shuf- 
 fling feet, and he began to wonder if he, too, had taken 
 flight like the rest of the servants. Yet, even if he 
 had, his master meditated, it would matter very little 
 now. He was himself about to take flight. London 
 was too hot to hold him. 
 
 A coward ever from his infancy, there could have 
 been no better plan devised to frighten this man from 
 doing more harm to those whom he wished to injure 
 than the one adopted by Sir Charles Ames; while the 
 latter's statement that he had business with the officer 
 of the guard at Kensington Palace was the culminat- 
 ing point to the other's fears. Moreover although 
 his mind appeared to him to be strangely hazy and 
 distraught now, and unable to retain the sequence of 
 that day's events he recognised the fearful weapon 
 he had drawn against himself in suggesting that he
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 153 
 
 was a Jesuit priest. Upon that statement, testified to 
 by Sir Charles, a man of responsible position, he would 
 certainly be arrested at once; while, if proof could be 
 obtained that he was in truth a priest, or had ever been 
 trained to be one, the most terrible future would lie 
 before him. 
 
 As he thought of all this in a wandering, semi- 
 vacant manner, he set about doing that which, since 
 the interview in the park, be had made up his mind to 
 do. He would fly from England, he would return to 
 France. Yet, he reflected, if in France, Paris would 
 still be closed to him. There the Jesuits were in pos- 
 session of terrible authority, although an authority not 
 recognised by the Government ; if they knew what he 
 had done, even in only betraying Archibald Sholto to 
 the English authorities, their vengeance on him would 
 be sharp, swift, terrible. And in Paris also he could 
 not doubt it would soon be Bertie Elphinston and 
 Douglas, even Archibald himself. No, it must not be 
 Paris. Not yet at least ! 
 
 But he must be somewhere out of London, out of 
 England, and he set to work still in a dazed, stupefied 
 manner to make his plans. 
 
 He went first to his own bed-room, to which was 
 attached a small toilet or dressing-room, and, unlock- 
 ing an iron-bound strong box, took from it some 
 money a small casket of Louis d'ors and English 
 guineas, a leather case stuffed full of bills of exchange 
 and several notes, among them a large one drawn by 
 a Parisian money-lender on a London goldsmith. 
 Then, next, he opened a false tray, or bottom, in the 
 strong box, and from it took out several shagreen 
 cases which he slipped into his pocket. These con- 
 tained all his family jewels.
 
 154 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Yet the man's fear was so great that he might even 
 by now have been denounced by Sir Charles Ames to 
 the officer of the guard at Kensington Palace, that 
 more than once he rose from the box and, on hearing 
 any slight noise in the square, ran to the window and 
 peered out of it and down into the road, and then 
 came back to his task of packing up his valuables. 
 And all the while as he did so he muttered to himself 
 continually : 
 
 " The notary must see to all I will write to him 
 from France. He had best sell all and remit the 
 money. England is done with ! Neither Hanoverian 
 nor Jacobite now. Curse them both and all." Then 
 he laughed, a little sniggering, feeble laugh it was 
 wondrous that, in the state his mind was and with the 
 ruin which was upon him, he could have been moved 
 by such a trifle ! and chuckled to himself and said : 
 
 " If Luke comes back now he will find the door 
 barred forever. A faithful servant ! A faithful serv- 
 ant ! Well, his home is gone. Let him go drown 
 himself." 
 
 He fetched next all the silver which he could find 
 about the house, and which had been brought forth on 
 his return from the coffers where it had lain since his 
 father's flight into France years ago candelabras, old 
 dishes and baskets and a coffee pot, with a tankard or 
 so and hurled them into the strong box and locked 
 it securely. 
 
 Then, after once more peering into the square and 
 seeing that all was clear, he descended to the hall, 
 opened the door an inch or two and again glanced his 
 eye round, and, a moment later, drew the door to and 
 went forth into the night.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UNITED. 
 
 ALL through Picardy, from Artois to the He de 
 France, from Normandy to Champagne, the wheat was 
 a-ripening early that year, the trees in the orchards 
 and gardens of the rich, fruitful province had their 
 boughs bent to the earth with their loads, and, so 
 great was the summer heat, the cattle stood in the 
 rivers and pools for coolness, or sought shelter under 
 the elms and poplars dotted about by the river's banks. 
 
 Yet, heat notwithstanding, the great bare road that 
 runs from Calais through Boulogne, Abbeville, and 
 Amiens, as well as through Clermont and Chantilly 
 and St. Denis to Paris, had still its continuous traffic 
 to which neither summer nor winter made much differ- 
 ence, except when the snows of the latter belated 
 many diligences and waggons for it was the high 
 road between the coast and the capital. And thus it 
 was now, in this hot, broiling June of 1746. Along 
 that road, passing each other sometimes, sometimes 
 breaking down, sometimes, by the carelessness of 
 drunken drivers or postillions, getting their wheels 
 into ditches and sticking there for hours, went almost 
 every vehicle that was known in the France of those 
 days. Monseigneur's carriage, drawn by four or six 
 stout travelling roadsters wrenched for the occasion 
 from the service of Monseigneur's starving tenants
 
 j^g DENOUNCED. 
 
 and with Monseigneur within it looking ineffably 
 bored at the heat and the dust and the inferior canaille 
 who obtruded themselves on his vision would lumber 
 by the diligence, or Royal Post, farmed from Louis 
 the well-beloved so, loved, perhaps, because he de- 
 spised his people and said France would last his time, 
 which was long enough ! or be passed by a desobligttant, 
 or chaise for one person, or by a fat priest on a post- 
 horse, or by a travelling carriage full of provincials 
 en route for Paris. Also, to add to the continuous 
 traffic on this road in that period, were berlins a quatre 
 chevaux, carriers' waggons loaded with merchandise 
 either from or to England, countless horsemen civil 
 and military, and innumerable pedestrians, since the 
 accomplishment of long journeys on foot, with a wallet 
 slung on the back, was then one of the most ordinary 
 methods of travelling amongst the humbler classes. 
 
 Seated in the banquette, or hooded seat, attached to 
 the back of the diligence from Calais to Amiens, on 
 one of these broiling days in June of 1746, were Kate 
 Fane as now she alone would describe herself or al- 
 low herself to be styled and her father. They had 
 crossed from England in the ordinary packet-boat a 
 day or two before, and were at this moment between 
 Abbeville and Amiens, at which latter place they pro- 
 posed to remain for the present at least. To look at 
 her none would have supposed that, not more than 
 a week or two before, this golden-haired girl, now 
 dressed in a plain-checked chintz, with, to protect 
 her head from the heat, a large flapping straw hat, had 
 been discarded by the man whom she had imagined to 
 be her husband ; had been told that she was, possibly, 
 no lawful wife. For she looked happier, brighter at 
 this time than she had ever done since she went
 
 UNITED. je- 
 
 through a -form of marriage with the Viscount Ford- 
 ingbridge, because though not in the way that he 
 had falsely insinuated she was free of him, 
 
 "What was it Archie said to ye ? " asked her father 
 as the diligence toiled up a small hill, the road of 
 which was shaded by trees from the burning sun. 
 " What was it he said to ye in the letter you got at 
 Calais ? Tell me again ; I like not to think that my 
 daughter has been flouted and smirched by such a 
 scoundrel as that. Lawfully married, humph ! Law- 
 fully married, he said, eh ?" 
 
 " Lawfully married enough, father," Kate replied. 
 " Lawfully enough to tie me to him for ever as his 
 wife. But," she went on, " lawful or not lawful, noth- 
 ing shall ever induce me to see him, to speak with him 
 again." 
 
 " Read me the letter," said Fane ; " let me hear all 
 about it." 
 
 " Nay, nay," answered his daughter, " time enough 
 when we get to Amiens, when we shall all meet again. 
 Oh, the joyful day ! The blessed chance ! To think 
 that to-night we shall all of us be together once more! 
 All ! all ! Just as we used to be in the happy old times 
 in the Trousse Vache," and she busied herself with tak- 
 ing a little wine and water from a basket she had with 
 her, and a bunch of grapes and some chipped bread, 
 and ministering to the old man. 
 
 So, as you may gather from her words, those who 
 had been in such peril in England were back safe in 
 France. Bertie Elphinston had crossed, disguised, of 
 course, as a drover, unmolested by " infernal sloops o' 
 war and bomb-ketches "to use honest McGlowrie's 
 words or anything else. And, also, the Sholtos had 
 come in the same way, finding, indeed, so little let or
 
 158 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 hindrance in either the river or on the sea, that they 
 began to think the English King's rage and hate 
 against all who had taken part in the late rebellion 
 were slacked at last. They were, in truth, not nearly 
 glutted yet, and the safe, undisturbed passage which 
 they had been fortunate enough to make was due to 
 that strange chance which so often preserves those 
 who are in greatest danger. 
 
 Still, they were over, no matter how or by what 
 good fortune, and that night that afternoon, in an- 
 other hour's time all would meet at the Inn, La Croix 
 Blanche, in Amiens. 
 
 At Calais Kate had learned the welcome tidings ; a 
 letter had been given into her hands by no less a per- 
 son than the great Dessein himself hotel-keeper, 
 marchand-de-vin, job-master, and letter of coaches, 
 chaises, and post-horses, and plunderer of travellers 
 generally ! and in it was news from Father Sholto, as 
 he might safely be called here in France, and from 
 Bertie and Douglas. 
 
 Sholto's letter told her all she desired to know, 
 viz., that Fordingbridge's suggestion of his being a 
 priest was a lie, "the particulars of which," the Jesuit 
 wrote, " I will give you at Amiens when we meet." 
 Bertie's, on the other hand, told her manfully and, of 
 course, as a woman would think, selfishly that he 
 regretted that it was an implied lie. "Because," wrote 
 he, " had it been the truth, we might have become 
 man and wife within twenty-four hours of meeting, 
 and now we are as far apart as ever." Some other 
 details were also given, such as that Father Sholto 
 was in residence for the time being at the Jesuit Col- 
 lege, and that Bertie had rejoined his regiment and 
 was now on duty at the Citadel. Douglas was at the
 
 UNITED. 
 
 Croix Blanche, and would take care that suitable rooms 
 were kept for them, though, since it happened to be 
 the great summer fair-time, the city was full of all 
 kinds of people, and rooms in fierce demand at every 
 hostelry. 
 
 These letters, received by Kate as they landed from 
 the packet-boat in the canal at Calais, were sufficient 
 to prompt her to lose no time in hastening onward 
 north. The diligence, she found, left the hospitable 
 doors of Monsieur Dessein at five o'clock on summer 
 mornings, and did the distance of sixty miles to Amiens 
 in eleven hours, which Dessein spoke of approvingly 
 and falsely as being the fastest possible. Still they 
 could not afford anything that was faster for they 
 had little money in their purse these days. Therefore, 
 at dawn, they clambered into the banquette, which hap- 
 pened to be vacant, and set out upon their road. 
 
 And now, as the diligence skirted the river Somme, 
 and drew near to Picquigny, the towers of the cathe- 
 dral Notre Dame d' Amiens came into sight, and the 
 ramparts of the city. And, because it was fair-time, 
 the roads were full of people of all kinds streaming 
 towards it ; of market people, with their wares, and 
 waggons of fruit and vegetables, and poultry, of sal- 
 timbanques and strolling actors, strong men, fat wom- 
 en, dwarfs, and giants since in those days fairs were 
 not much different from what they are now, only the 
 play was a little rougher and the speech a little coarser 
 even among the lowest. 
 
 Nevertheless, amidst the ringing of the cathedral 
 bells, as well as those of the Collegiate Church and 
 Amiens' fourteen parish churches, the diligence ar- 
 rived at last, and only one hour late, at the office of 
 the Paste du ^/,,and there, walking up and down in
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 front of it, were Bertie and Douglas, both in their uni- 
 forms, and waiting for them. 
 
 " How did you know, Mr. Elphinston," Kate asked, 
 glad of the bustle and confusion in the streets caused 
 by the fair and by the arrival of the diligence, " that 
 we should come to-day ? We might not have crossed 
 from England for another week nay, another month, 
 for the matter of that." 
 
 " We should have been here all the same," Bertie 
 replied. " I am not on duty at this time in the day, 
 and Douglas would have come every afternoon. We 
 have watched the arrival of the diligence, Kate, for 
 the last week since ever since you wrote to say you 
 were about to set out." 
 
 " I did not know I told Archie that." 
 
 " No, but you told me. Have you forgotten all 
 you wrote to me, Kate ? " 
 
 " No," she said, in a low voice, and with her soft 
 
 blush. "Yet, remember, Ber Mr. Elphinston we 
 
 are as far apart as ever. Archie says I am, in truth, 
 that man's wife." 
 
 " I remember," he replied ; " I must remember," 
 and he led the way into the inn, which was close by 
 the Paste du Roi. 
 
 The young men had been fortunate enough to 
 secure a room for themselves and the new arrivals, 
 where they could sit as well as take their meals apart, 
 in spite of the inn being crowded. Nay, those who 
 crowded it now were scarcely of the class who require 
 sitting-rooms, nor, in some cases, bed-rooms even ; 
 many of them being very well satisfied to lie down and 
 take their rest in the straw of the stables. For among 
 the customers of La Croix Blanche were horse-dealers 
 from Normandy and from Flanders; the performers
 
 UNITED. ,6 r 
 
 at the booths, the strolling actors, mendicant friars 
 if friars they were ! vendors of quack medicines, and 
 all the olla-podrida that went to make up a French 
 fair. These cared not where they slept, while of those 
 who sought bed-rooms there were commit voyageurs, 
 ruffling gentlemen of the road, bedizened with tawdry 
 lace, and with red, inflamed faces beneath their bag- 
 wigs la pigeon on whom the local watch kept wary 
 eyes large purchasers of woollen ribbons and ferrets, 
 serges, stuffs, and black and green soap for the Paris 
 market, in the production of all of which things Amiens 
 has ever been famous, as well as for its pdti de canard. 
 Nor did any of these people require private rooms for 
 the consumption of their food, but, instead, ate to- 
 gether at the ordinary, or fed in the kitchen among 
 the scullions and their pots and pans. 
 
 Therefore, undisturbed, or disturbed only by the 
 cries that arose from below, as evening came on and 
 the guests' table became crowded, Douglas and Bertie 
 ministered to the wants of Kate and her father, and 
 compared notes of the passages they had made across 
 from England. Also they spoke of their future, Kate's 
 being that which needed the most discussion. 
 
 " Prince Edward is safe," said Bertie, " of this there 
 is no doubt. He is known by those of this country, 
 though by none in England, to be secure with Cluny 
 in the mountain of Letternilichk, near Moidart. Off 
 Moidart is the " Bellona," a Nantes privateer, with 
 three hundred and forty men on board, and well armed. 
 She will get him away, in spite of Lestock's squadron, 
 which is hovering about between Scotland and Brit- 
 tany. Now, Kate, when he arrives in Paris, as he will 
 do shortly, his household will be a pleasant one. Your 
 place must be there."
 
 Z 62 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " In the household of the prince! " exclaimed Kate. 
 
 " Ay ! in the household of the prince. Nay, never 
 fear. You will not be the only woman. The Ladies 
 Elcho and Ogilvie will be with you ; also old Lady 
 Lochiel. Oh, you will be a bonnie party ! While, as 
 for Mr. Fane, some place must also be found." 
 
 " But who is to find these places ? " she asked. 
 
 "Archie," replied Douglas. "He has interest 
 enough with Tencin to do anything. Indeed, from 
 finding a post at court to obtaining a lettre de cachet, he 
 can do it." 
 
 " Why," said Bertie to him aside, noticing that he 
 turned pale as he spoke, " did you shiver then, Doug- 
 las, as I have seen you do before now ? You do not 
 fear a lettre de cachet for Vincennes or the Bastille 
 and and we are not talking of the man at whose 
 name I have seen you shiver before." 
 
 " I I do not know," his companion replied. " It 
 must be that I am fey, or a fool, or both. Yet, last 
 night I dreamt that Archie was asking the minister for 
 a lettre de cachet to consign someone I know not 
 whom to the Bastille, and and I woke up shiver- 
 ing as I did just now." 
 
 " It could not be for you, at least," answered the 
 other. 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Douglas, moodily, " for some- 
 one who had injured me. Who knows ? " 
 
 Whatever reply his stronger-minded friend might 
 have made to this gloomy supposition, which was by 
 no means the first he had known Douglas to be sub- 
 jected to, was not uttered since at that moment 
 Archibald Sholto himself entered the room. 
 
 His greetings to Kate were warm and, at the same 
 time, brotherly. He, too, remembered how for years
 
 UNITED. !6 3 
 
 the little party assembled now in La Croix Blanche had 
 all been as though one family ; he remembered the 
 black spot that had come amongst them; that to 
 Fordingbridge, whom he himself had introduced into 
 Fane's house, was owing most, if not all, of the evil 
 that had befallen them. Also he recalled that, but for 
 Fordingbridge's treachery, neither he, nor Bertie, nor 
 Douglas would have been forced to flee out of Eng- 
 land for their lives; that Kate would never have for- 
 feited her position nor have had the foul yet guarded 
 suggestion hurled against her that she was no wife, 
 but only a priest's mistress. Then, when their first 
 welcomes and salutations were over, he spoke aloud 
 to her on the subject that, above all, engrossed their 
 minds. 
 
 " Kitty," he said, " is Fordingbridge gone mad ? 
 For to madness alone can such conduct as 'his be at- 
 tributed." 
 
 " I do not know," she replied. " I cannot say. All 
 I know is that he is a villain and a traitor that I 
 have done with him for ever. Yet he must be mad 
 when he throws out so extraordinary a hint as that he 
 is a priest. He could not have been a priest, and you 
 not know it could he ? " 
 
 Up from the guests' room below there came the 
 hubbub of those at supper, the shouts of the copper 
 captains for more petits pigolets of wine, mixed with 
 the clattering of plates and dishes, the calls of other 
 travellers for food, and the general disturbance that 
 accompanies a French inn full of visitors, as Father 
 Sholto answered gravely : 
 
 " My child, he might have been a priest and I not 
 know it ; God might even have allowed so wicked a 
 scheme to enter his heart as that, being one, he
 
 164 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 should go through a form of marriage with an inno- 
 cent woman. But, my dear, one thing is still certain, 
 he was not, is not, a priest I know it now beyond 
 all doubt ; you are as lawfully his wife as it is pos- 
 sible for you to be." 
 
 " What what, then, was the use of such a state- 
 ment, such a lie, added to all the others which God 
 forgive him ! he has already told since first he dark- 
 ened our door ? " 
 
 " The gratification of his hate, his revenge against 
 you and all of us. He hated you because you had never 
 loved him, and had at last come to despise him ; he hated 
 Bertie because you had always loved him " (as he spoke, 
 the eyes of those two met in one swift glance, and then 
 were quickly lowered to the table at which they sat) ; 
 " he hated me because I knew him. And, remember, 
 until he had put himself in the power of Douglas and 
 Sir Charles Ames by insinuating himself to be what he 
 was not a priest he thought that I should soon be 
 removed from his path for ever. Once in the power of 
 the English Government, my tongue would have been 
 silenced ; it would have been hard to prove, perhaps, 
 that he was not a priest; that you were a lawful mar- 
 ried woman." 
 
 " Yet, surely, it could have been proved in some 
 way. And and of what avail such a lie to him ? 
 Knowing he is not a priest, he would not have dared 
 to take another wife." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Sholto, " he had no desire to 
 take another. If he is not mad, he had but one wish, 
 to outrage and insult you, and thereby avenge himself 
 upon you. Moreover, he must have some feelings 
 still left in him your very renunciation of him may 
 have led to his denial of you."
 
 UNITED. 
 
 I6 5 
 
 " How have you found for certain that he is no 
 priest ? " 
 
 " In the easiest manner. A letter to the ' General ' 
 at Rome, another to the ' Provincial ' at Lisbon, and, 
 lo ! a reply from each to the effect that neither under 
 the name of Simeon Larpent nor the title of Viscount 
 Fordingbridge had anyone been ever admitted to the 
 Society of Jesus. At St. Omer, I knew, of course, 
 such a thing could not have happened ; nay, I knew 
 more : I knew that neither as novice nor acolyte, even, 
 had Fordingbridge ever been admitted, nor had he 
 submitted to any of those severe examinations which 
 all must pass through ere they can become these alone. 
 As for priest well, it was impossible, impossible that 
 he could be one and I not know it, never have heard 
 of it." 
 
 "So, Kate," whispered Bertie to her, "you are still 
 Lady Fordingbridge. As far apart as ever as far 
 apart as ever." 
 
 " Surely," said she to him, as now they talked alone 
 and outside the general conversation that was going 
 on, " surely it is better so. I have renounced him, it 
 is true; willingly I will never see nor speak to him 
 again ; he and I are sundered for ever. Yet yet 
 Bertie," and for the first time now, after so long, she 
 called him frankly by the old, familiar name, " I could 
 never have come to you had I been that other thing. 
 You could not have taken such as I should have been 
 for your wife." 
 
 He looked at her, but answered no word. Then 
 he sighed and turned away. 
 
 They sat far into the evening talking and making 
 plans, while still, through the warm summer night, the 
 noise of the crowded city came in at their windows
 
 !66 DENOUNCED. 
 
 and nearly deafened them. And this is what they 
 decided upon for the future. 
 
 The troop to which Bertie Elphinston belonged in 
 the Regiment of Picardy would be removed, later on, 
 to quarters at St. Denis, and at about the same time 
 Douglas would rejoin his regiment in Paris, while his 
 brother Archibald was about to depart for St. Omer, 
 where he should remain for some time. He had, he 
 said, nothing more to do now in the world, since the 
 restoration he had hoped so much from had failed 
 altogether. Therefore, because at present there was 
 no need for Kate to go to Paris, and because, also, her 
 father became more and more ailing every day, they 
 decided to remain at Amiens, to live quietly there in 
 lodgings, and to have at least the friendship of the 
 two young men to cheer them. There was still a 
 little money left from the sale of Doyle Fane's fencing 
 school in Paris indeed, it had never been touched 
 since Kate's marriage which would suffice for their 
 wants, especially since Amiens was cheaper than Paris 
 to reside in. Then, when the time came, they would 
 all move on to the capital, and there, as they told 
 each other, try to forget the black, bitter year which 
 had come and separated them all from the happy life 
 they had once led together. 
 
 "Only," said Bertie once again that night to her, 
 ere he went back to the Citadel, " only, still we are 
 parted; the gulf is ever between us. O Kate, Kate! 
 if it were not for that." 
 
 And once more for reply she whispered: 
 
 " Tis better so, better than if it had been as he, 
 that other, said. At least I am honest; if if freedom 
 ever comes, no need for you to blush for me." 
 
 " Nay," he said, " none could do that, knowing
 
 UNITED. !6j 
 
 all. For myself, Kate, I would it had been as the 
 wretch said. Then the bar would not be there." 
 
 "But the blot would." 
 
 With which words she left him and the others, going 
 with her father to the rooms prepared for them. 
 
 Meanwhile, as now the full night was upon them, 
 the hubbub and the uproar grew greater in the inn. 
 Back from the booths and open-air theatres came the 
 mummers and the mountebanks, the mendicant friars 
 with their pills and potions, balsams, styptics, and 
 ointments, the Norman and Flemish horse dealers 
 the latter drunk and shouting for more drink and all 
 the rest. And they distributed themselves about the 
 Croix Blanche, as, indeed, they were doing in every 
 other hostelry in Amiens, and laughed and shrieked 
 and howled and cursed as they sought their beds in 
 the straw or the garrets, and turned the ancient city 
 into a veritable pandemonium. 
 
 " I will walk with you a part of the way," said 
 Douglas to his brother and Bertie as they rose to de- 
 part. " This narrow street is hot and stuffy, especially 
 with the fumes that arise from the revellers below. 
 The night air will be cool and refreshing before 
 sleep." 
 
 And buckling on his sword he went down with 
 them, and out through the still crowded inn yard. 
 
 At the Jesuit College he parted with Archibald, 
 and went on a little farther with Bertie, and then, say- 
 ing that he was refreshed with the coolness, bade him 
 also good-night. 
 
 "It is good for us all to be together again, Bertie, 
 boy, is it not ? " he exclaimed as they shook each other 
 by the hand ; " good to think that, with but a few in- 
 tervals of separation when on service, we shall scarcely
 
 X 68 DENOUNCED. 
 
 ever be parted more. Nothing is wanting now but 
 that you and Kate could come together lawfully." 
 
 "That," replied the other, "seems never likely to 
 be permitted to us. Well, we must bear it, hard as it 
 is. Yet, Douglas, I am as honestly glad as you can 
 be that we are safe back in France with all our troubles 
 over." 
 
 "Yes," replied Douglas, "with our troubles over. 
 Yet I wonder where that rogue ingrain, Fording- 
 bridge, is ?" 
 
 He was soon to know.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST." 
 
 SOME of those who came to Amiens as attendants 
 upon the fair had not yet sought their beds, whether 
 in the straw of the stables, on the brick floors of the 
 kitchens, or in the sweltering garrets under the red- 
 tiled roofs. Night birds, however, were most of these, 
 creatures who found their account in roaming the 
 streets, seeking whom they might devour. Night birds, 
 such as the bellowing, red-faced bullies who had been 
 shouting all day for drink and food in the Croix 
 Blanche, and who, managing to keep sober in spite of 
 all their potations, sallied forth at midnight. For it 
 was then their work began. Then horse dealers, mer- 
 chants, buyers, dissolute members of the local bour- 
 geoisie and the petite noblesse, making their way to their 
 lodgings or houses, found themselves suddenly seized 
 by the throat or from behind, and their watches, 
 trinkets and rings taken from them and their purses 
 cut nay, might deem themselves fortunate if their 
 throats were not cut too. 
 
 Once or twice men of this stamp passed Douglas 
 after he had quitted his friend fellows in soiled finery 
 with great swords by their sides, and with their huge 
 hats drawn down over their faces who looked at him 
 askance, seeing his sword also by his side and noting 
 his well-knit form and military bearing. But, as they 
 
 169
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 observed his glance fixed keenly on them and his hand 
 ready enough to his weapon, they passed on with a 
 surly "Good-night." 
 
 Making his way back to the inn, Douglas came to 
 a sudden halt as he arrived under the Jleau Dieu on 
 the pillar of the great west doorway of Notre Dame 
 <T 'Amiens, for, in the open space in front of that en- 
 trance he saw two of these very night birds standing, 
 evidently, as he supposed at first, planning and con- 
 cocting some villainy. Regarding them from behind 
 a buttress of that old cathedral of Robert de Lu- 
 zarches, he could observe them and all their move- 
 ments plainly enough, since the full moon was high in 
 the heavens by now; and, although the towers ob- 
 scured somewhat the light, a great stream of it poured 
 down into the place before the west doorway and with 
 its rays illuminated the space. 
 
 Great brawny fellows they were, he could see ; good 
 types of the half swashbuckler, half highwayman, of 
 the period the class of men who would be found one 
 day fighting as mercenaries at Placentia or Raucoux, 
 another robbing a church or some lonely grange, 
 another hung or broken on the wheel, or swinging in 
 chains on a gibbet on some heath or by the seashore. 
 
 " By St. Firmin ! " he heard one say to the other, 
 while he balanced something in his hand which spar- 
 kled in the moonlight as he gazed down at it, " who 
 would have thought the scarecrow had such valuables 
 upon him? Regardez moi fa!" and again he moved 
 what he had in his hand, so that it glittered as though 
 on fire. 
 
 " 'Tis enough," replied the other, "we have done 
 well this fairing. Now for Paris and vogue la ga- 
 te re ! We have the wherewithal to amuse ourselves
 
 "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST." l?l 
 
 for a year. Come, let us ride to-night ; to-morrow he 
 may raise a hue and cry. Come, the horses are out- 
 side ; the gates do not shut till midnight. Hark ! it 
 wants but a quarter," he broke off as the big clock 
 above them boomed out that hour. "Come," and 
 clasping his companion's arm they disappeared round 
 the other side of the cathedral. 
 
 The first impulse of Douglas was to seize these men, 
 if possible; the next, since they were two to one, to 
 follow them to the gate and there to call on the watch- 
 man to prevent their exit. And knowing that some 
 robbery had been committed, perhaps some murder 
 as was very likely he was about to put this idea in 
 practice when his action was arrested by what startled 
 him far more than the sight of the two scoundrels re- 
 garding their stolen wealth had done. 
 
 That which so startled him was a man's form creep- 
 ing up behind him in the shadow of the cathedral, a 
 man who had come so near to him without his knowing 
 it that, as Douglas turned and faced him, he sprang 
 out at him and endeavoured to seize him by the throat. 
 And as he did so he shrieked out, " Villain, thief, give 
 me back my property ! Give it back, I say, or," and he 
 hissed the words out, " I will kill you ! See, I am 
 armed : you have left me this," and he brandished a 
 long knife that shone in the moonlight into which 
 Douglas had now dragged him as the jewels had 
 heretofore shone. 
 
 Of the man himself, nor of his dagger, Douglas had 
 no fear ; he was stronger than his antagonist, and his 
 hand held the other's, which grasped the weapon, as in 
 a vice. But what appalled, almost unnerved him, was 
 that he knew the voice and he. knew the man. It 
 was Fordingbridge.
 
 172 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " You fool I " he cried, " do you not know me ? I am 
 Douglas Sholto," and as he said the words he felt the 
 other's hold relax, felt him disengage himself and 
 stagger back against the wall of the cathedral, where, 
 the moon lighting up his pale, cadaverous face, he 
 stood gasping and glaring at him. 
 
 " Douglas Sholto ! " he muttered, whispering to him- 
 self, " Douglas Sholto here ? So, you herd with thieves 
 and robbers, do you ? Where are they gone, those 
 others ? Where, where, I say ? " 
 
 " To the gates, I imagine. Beyond them by now," 
 for as he spoke the hour boomed forth from the clock 
 in the tower above, and was repeated by all the other 
 clocks in the city. " Your property, Lord Fording- 
 bridge, is gone. I cannot say that I am sorry for it, 
 though, had you not come when you did, I was about 
 to follow the men who robbed you and have them 
 stopped at the gate. Now, knowing whom they have 
 despoiled, I can only say I rejoice that for once you 
 have met with scoundrels as great as yourself." 
 
 Glowering, staring at him intently, the other leaned 
 back against the cathedral, while from his eyes there 
 shone a light which looked like the light of madness. 
 Nay, in that moment Douglas decided in his own mind 
 that he was mad. Still, so great a villain did he know 
 Fordingbridge to be, that, gentle as he was to all oth- 
 ers, he could feel no pity towards him. Instead, he 
 said: 
 
 " So, my lord, not content with having nearly sac- 
 rificed our lives in England, you have tracked us all to 
 this place, doubtless in furtherance of some scheme of 
 your own, though what it is I cannot even guess. You 
 can harm no one here. Your spite " 
 
 " It is false," said Fordingbridge ; " I have done no
 
 "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST." j^ 
 
 such thing. I am myself on the road to Paris" 
 he did not say that he was a fugitive from Eng- 
 land " and I have been robbed of all jewels, money, 
 bills." 
 
 " To Paris ! " echoed Douglas. " I am afraid you 
 will scarcely be welcome there. The base hint you 
 gave about being a priest will surely lead you into 
 trouble for it is a lie, as my brother has discovered," 
 and he saw the other start at his words. But he went 
 on : " Moreover, there are many ardent adherents of 
 the Stuart cause in Paris. How do you imagine they 
 will receive the intelligence that you, a supposed ad- 
 herent yourself, endeavoured to betray three others to 
 their doom in London ? Lord Fordingbridge, take my 
 advice, do not go to Paris." 
 
 In truth, he had no intention of going to Paris, as 
 has been already told. After much deliberation, when 
 he stole away from his house at Kensington, and dur- 
 ing the time occupied in escaping to France, he had 
 been meditating much upon where he should live, 
 where go to until the trouble he had brought upon 
 himself by his own evil actions should have blown over. 
 Money he did not want, having a large sum in France 
 that had been invested by his father, as well as that 
 which he could procure from his property in England, 
 and so, at last, he decided that he would for some time 
 at least take up his abode at Amiens. There he was 
 comparatively near Paris if he wished at any time to 
 visit the capital, and at the same time he was but a 
 day's journey to the seaports of Calais and Boulogne, 
 should he find it necessary at any time to quit France 
 suddenly. Full of these ideas, and certain that it 
 would not be long before he could either return to Eng- 
 land or take up his position in Paris, he had come on
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 to Amiens and was now staying at a larger inn than the 
 Croix Blanche under the name of Mr. Chester which 
 had been his mother's. 
 
 He had come out that night, partly driven forth by 
 the shouts and carousings that were going on in his 
 own hostelry in the same manner that they were in all 
 the others in the city, and which, with his brain in the 
 state it had been for some time now, were madden- 
 ing to him. And partly, also, he had been driven forth 
 by discovering that a large group of English visitors 
 had arrived during the afternoon, the very sight of 
 whom was terrifying to him, since amongst them were- 
 one or two young men of fashion whom he had more 
 than once met at King George's levees. Therefore, he 
 had determined to wander about the city until it was 
 time to go to bed, and then to return and keep his room 
 until the English party had gone on to Paris the next 
 morning and the hubbub of the fair was over. But 
 near the cathedral he had been attacked and robbed 
 of his money and trinkets which, for precaution, as 
 he imagined, he had kept on his person and in en- 
 deavouring to follow the thieves he had stumbled on 
 Douglas Sholto. 
 
 " No one would know that I was in Paris," he said, 
 with a cunning leer in his eyes, as he answered the 
 other's remark. " No one, no one." 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Douglas, "everyone 
 would know Bertie, my brother, your wife, all." 
 
 Again the other leered at him with so sidelong a 
 glance, with such a snake-like look, that Douglas, re- 
 membering how Archibald had said that night that he 
 must be mad, began to feel sure that he was, indeed, 
 in the presence of a demoniac a creature whose pur- 
 suit of evil had turned his brain. And again, for some
 
 "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST." 
 
 175 
 
 reason, the young man shuddered violently as he 
 looked at him, as he had shuddered more than once 
 before. 
 
 " No," hissed Fordingbridge, glinting his eyes 
 round the open space in front of the great cathedral, 
 which, with the exception of the spot where they 
 stood, close up by the door, was now bathed in moon- 
 light. " No ; they do not know, they will never know. 
 They think I am still in England ; that I shall not 
 leave it." 
 
 " Indeed ! Will they think so to-morrow when I 
 tell them I have met you to-night ? " 
 
 "Tell them to-morrow! To-morrow?" he whis- 
 pered. " How can you do that, Douglas Sholto ? " 
 
 " Very easily. They are all here." 
 
 " Here ! " He almost screamed the word " here," 
 and his eyes roved round the place as though he 
 thought they might be hiding behind some buttress, or 
 pillar, ready to spring out on him. 
 
 " Ay, here. One, who seeks for you ever, at the 
 Citadel, another at the Jesuits' College, and your wife 
 at an inn in the town." 
 
 Fordingbridge reeled back against the cathedral 
 walls once more as he heard this unexpected dis- 
 closurehe had until now imagined that Douglas was 
 alone in Amiens; and there he stood absolutely para- 
 lysed with apprehension. In Amiens ! The very place 
 he had selected for a refuge. In Amiens. They would 
 know all to-morrow, all. And he would be brought 
 face to face with Elphinston, who would slay him, h 
 never doubted; with Archibald Sholto, who would de 
 nounce him to the Jacobites, of whom there were many 
 in this city as well as Paris; to the Church, whicl 
 had slandered by falsely stating himself to be one <
 
 176 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 its priests. A Church which, he knew had reason 
 enough to know was sufficiently powerful to resent 
 any affront to it ; a Church which though the In- 
 quisition had no foothold in France could make its 
 vengeance felt. And he remembered he had bound 
 himself to that Church by many oaths to further the 
 Stuart cause in England, and had ended by denounc- 
 ing three of its most active partisans! No need for^ 
 Elphinston to force him to fight ; no need for the 
 Jacobites to take vengeance on him for his treachery ; 
 Archibald Sholto would see that the punishment was 
 accorded. 
 
 As he stood there, while Douglas remained regard- 
 ing him, he thought it all out as well as his disordered 
 mind would permit; remembered that but for the 
 hated form of the man before him they would never 
 know he was in France. And if they never knew, 
 then he might remain in peace until things could be 
 smoothed over in England. But could they be so 
 smoothed ? He must know that first. 
 
 " You drove me out of England," he said, or rather 
 whined; " now you would drive me out of France"; 
 and he folded his hands across his breast as he spoke, 
 and stood shaking before the other. 
 
 " Your own cowardice, your own wickedness, drove 
 you out," replied Douglas. "Nought else. And, Lord 
 Fordingbridge, because I would not have you regard 
 us upon the same bad level as yourself, let me tell you 
 this : None of us are spies, denouncers, informers. 
 None. We do not shift from white to black cockade 
 to save our necks nor to gratify a base hatred. You 
 were not denounced by us to the English Government 
 even after your execrable lies at Lady Belrose's; we 
 but frightened you into silence till we had time to
 
 TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST.' 
 
 177 
 
 quit England ourselves. You have been terrified by 
 a bugbear by your own evil nature." 
 
 Alas ! poor Douglas. He was no match for this 
 crafty, frenzied villain. He told more than he should. 
 He showed Fordingbridge that England was still open 
 to him; he presented him with the knowledge that, 
 besides himself, there was no one knew of his presence 
 in France. 
 
 In a moment the wretch had grasped this fact; in 
 another he had resolved on what he would do. His 
 glittering eye still upon Douglas, who stood there 
 calmly contemptuous, his left hand idly resting on his 
 sword hilt, and his right in the lace of his ruffles, he 
 asked : 
 
 "Is this true?" 
 
 For answer Douglas shrugged his shoulders and 
 replied, " All men are not born liars." 
 
 Alas ! poor Douglas. Unready as he was, he had 
 no time to save himself. 
 
 With a harsh, raucous cry the*other sprang at him ; 
 the knife, which he had held hidden in his sleeve so 
 long, gleamed in the moonlight; a moment later and it 
 was buried in Douglas's bosom. 
 
 "So," said the assassin, "in this way I am free of 
 France too." 
 
 As he struck the unhappy man the latter reeled 
 back three paces and then fell prone in the full blaze 
 of the moonlight, while the murderer, with a hurried 
 glance round, prepared to skulk away in the deep 
 shadow thrown by the cathedral walls on a side street. 
 Yet, as though the horror of the deed he had done 
 were not enough for him to carry away, he knew that 
 it had been observed. 
 
 As he turned to fly, he saw looking at him from a
 
 ^8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 window in a darkened room the white face of a 
 woman distorted with terror; a face from which the 
 eyes seemed starting. And, as he crept by the but- 
 tress in the shadow, he also saw her raise her finger 
 and point as though denouncing him.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GASCONISM. 
 
 THE summer waned, the autumn came, and poor, 
 gentle Douglas lay in his grave, but still his murderer 
 had never been discovered. 
 
 Yet in connection with that murderer, or rather in 
 connection with the murder itself, some extraordinary 
 facts had been forthcoming which, after all, but served 
 to surround it more and more with mystery. These 
 you shall hear. 
 
 When that white-faced woman, whose threatening 
 finger had pointed at the assassin as he fled, recovered 
 from her horror she was but a poor concierge who 
 had happened to be seeking her bed she rushed forth 
 into the open place where Douglas's body lay, and 
 there, with wild and piercing shrieks, awakened all 
 who dwelt round the cathedral. At first she conveyed 
 to those who hurried to the spot the idea that it was 
 she who was the shedder of blood, for, as she threw 
 herself down by the victim's side to see if any spark 
 of life remained, her own white night garments be- 
 came stained with the dreadful fluid, so that those 
 hurrying to the scene imagined that they saw a guilty 
 woman screaming over her own evil deed. 
 
 But as she grew more composed she was able to 
 tell her tale coherently ; to relate how, in curiosity, 
 she had stood watching those two conversing there ; 
 
 179
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 how she had seen the blow struck, and the murderer 
 flee into the darkness. She was very poor, she said, 
 every sou was worth taking account of ; therefore, on 
 moonlight nights, she sought her bed without candle- 
 light. Yet now she bemoaned her thrift, for had she 
 but burnt a light it might have alarmed the assassin 
 have saved the unhappy victim. 
 
 "But mort de ma vie ! " exclaimed the chief of the 
 watch, who by this time had arrived with two or three 
 of his subordinates, " why not rush out and follow the 
 man ; why not at least open the window and scream ? 
 Peste ! you women can do that if a mouse scampers 
 across the floor or your husband reproves you, yet, 
 behold! when a man is done to death you hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 The poor affrighted creature, still whimpering and 
 shivering, explained that she had no thought of mur- 
 der being about to be done; she had supposed they 
 were two friends parting for the night ; there was no 
 sign of argument or quarrel, and, when the deed was 
 done, she thought she had swooned for a moment or 
 so. She could say no more. 
 
 "Peste! " again exclaimed the chief of the watch 
 a tetchy man given to examining all kinds of charac- 
 ters from midnight revellers and wassailers to house- 
 breakers and worse, " why not do something better 
 than swoon ? And I'll be sworn, too, that you would 
 not know the fellow again even though he came back 
 this instant itself." 
 
 But to this the woman protested her dissent. She 
 would know him again anywhere, at once or at a long 
 interval, adding with a shudder that "for ever and as 
 long as she should live, his features were stamped into 
 her memory."
 
 GASCONISM. jgi 
 
 " What was he like, then ? " asked the chief, " how 
 clad?" 
 
 " Fairly tall," she replied, " though not so tall, I 
 think, as that" and she glanced at poor Douglas's 
 body lying in the centre of the crowd that surrounded 
 it. The chief of the watch, and a doctor who had 
 come from out a house near, had examined it at once 
 on their arrival, and, alas ! there was no life left in it. 
 The gentle spirit had flown. 
 
 " Also," she went on, " the assassin was very dark, 
 his eyes of a piercing nature, his face white as a 
 corpse as that" and again she glanced at the dead 
 man ; " but the whiteness might be from horror, mon 
 Dieu ! it was a terrible face, the face of a devil, terror- 
 stricken ; the face of a fiend. But no remorse, oh, 
 no! only fear it might be of himself." 
 
 "And his clothes?" asked the chief. "What of 
 them ? " 
 
 " Sombre, dark. All dark. Scarce any lace at 
 sleeves or breast, neither aigrette nor cockade, nor 
 galloon to his hat; no sword." 
 
 " Not a bully, then, nor filou ? No appearance of a 
 knight of the road ? Hein ? " 
 
 " No," the woman replied, " no." Then, reflect- 
 ively, she said, "It was, I think, no murder for gain 
 nor greed. Nay, could not have been. He stooped 
 not, went not near the the body after it fell. More 
 like, I think, a deed of hate, of bitter, hot rage. Who 
 knows ? Perhaps a wife stolen, a daughter wronged. 
 All is possible. For see, it" and again she glanced 
 down, " was young, and and, mon Dieu, il etait beau .'" 
 
 So they all said who gazed upon the handsome 
 features now setting rigidly in the blaze of the moon. 
 "II etait beau"
 
 jg2 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "Well," said the chief, "we must not stay here. 
 He must be removed. Meanwhile, I must to the 
 officers of the guard; none must pass the gates at 
 daybreak except under strict scrutiny. And the body 
 must be searched to see if we can gather who and 
 what he is. Alas! alas! The woman speaks well. 
 He was handsome." 
 
 But now an exclamation arose from the crowd, 
 while one or two stooped hurriedly to the earth, and 
 the first picked up something that, as he held it out, 
 glistened in his hand. It was an unset stone, a 
 ruby. 
 
 " Tiens" said the chief, turning it over in his hand, 
 " what's this ? A ruby, and unset," he repeated. Then 
 meditatively, " It may have fallen from a setting worn 
 by one or other, victim or murderer from, say, a ring, 
 a collar, a brooch for cravat, or ruffle. Has he upon 
 his body," he said to his attendant, "any setting to 
 which it might by chance belong ? " 
 
 The man bent down and inspected poor Douglas's 
 form, then he rose and shook his head. 
 
 " Neither ring nor chain that I can see. Nought 
 that is likely to have held such as that stone." 
 
 " Humph ! " mused the chief, " humph ! " Then he 
 whispered to himself, " If anyone pass the gate to- 
 morrow with an unfilled setting bah! Non! non! 
 non! He that has the setting belonging to the ruby 
 will scarcely show it. Yet, that the murderer owns it 
 is most likely. If it had been lost by anyone who 
 has lately worshipped here," and he glanced up at 
 the cathedral over which the daffodil dawn was coming 
 now from the east, " there would have been hue and 
 cry enough. Allans" he said aloud. " To the watch 
 house. And, bonne femme, come you with us to testify."
 
 GASCONISM. 
 
 183 
 
 Then, turning to his underlings, he said, " Bring him 
 with you find a plank or door. And and be gentle 
 with him. Pauvre gar {on ! Has he a mother, I won- 
 der ? " 
 
 For three or four days the search went on, those 
 whom he had loved so aiding it in every way. Archi- 
 bald, stern, silent, inwardly crushed ; Bertie mad with 
 grief and despair ; Kate broken-hearted. The lower 
 parts of the city were ransacked and received visits 
 from the watch and the exempts, but nothing came of 
 it except great discomfort to the denizens thereof. 
 Nothing ! And which perhaps was not strange never 
 to one of those who had so loved him came the veriest 
 shadow of a thought as to who the murderer was. It 
 was not possible, indeed, that such a thought should 
 come. He, they imagined if ever in their sorrow 
 they let his foul memory enter their mind was in 
 England. No, they never dreamt of him. They be- 
 gan, therefore, at last to think, as all the world which 
 went to make up Amiens thought, that some of the out- 
 casts, the thieves and scoundrels who had visited the 
 city at fair-time, had taken his bright young life. Yet, 
 strange to say, if such were the case, he had not been 
 robbed. His pocketbook was on him, his purse un- 
 touched. There was little enough in either, it was 
 true, yet, the night-birds would have had them had 
 they been his slayers ! 
 
 Then, at last, it seemed that the murderers were 
 
 caught. 
 
 There rode up to the south gate, on the fifth day, 
 a sergeant and three troopers of the Regiment 
 Picardy, and with them they had-bound with rope; 
 two villainous-looking scoundrels, fellows in stair 
 and tawdry riding coats, with brandy-inflamed faces,
 
 !S4 DENOUNCED. 
 
 one having a broken leg, so that as he sat on his 
 horse he groaned with every movement it made. 
 
 The sergeant's story was brief and soon told to the 
 captain of the guard, while Bertie Elphinston, sum- 
 moned to hear it, stood by hollow-eyed and sad, won- 
 dering if he was to learn that in these swashbucklers 
 he saw the assassins of his poor friend. 
 
 ''Monsieur le capitaine" said the sergeant, "by or- 
 ders received from you we have scoured the roads for 
 the last few days. Then, last night, we put up at the 
 Dragon Volant, outside of Poix, and here we found 
 these two larrons. This one this creature here who 
 calls himself Jacques Potin, was abed with his broken 
 leg, his horse having thrown him ; the other one, who 
 names himself Adolphe d'Aunay, was nursing him. 
 Ma foil a strange patient and a strange nursing. 
 From the room they occupied came forth howlings and 
 singings and songs of the vilest, mixed with oaths and 
 laughter sufficient to have awakened their grand- 
 fathers in their prison graves. 'Twas this drew my 
 attention to them, Monsieur le capitaine. Passing their 
 door, attracted by their roars and singings, I was also 
 led to stop and listen, because, the uproar over, I next 
 heard this conversation : ' Curse you and your leg 
 too!' said he who calls himself D'Aunay; 'if 'twere 
 not for your accident we should have been in Paris 
 now, safe and free with our prize disposed of. Your 
 drunkenness, whereby you got your fall, has ruined 
 all.' ' Man petit chouxj said the other, ' bemoan not ; 
 here we are snug and comfortable. Our logement is 
 good, the food of the best, the wine of the most 
 superior. What would you more ? And we have the 
 jewels, which are a small fortune, and the money 
 bonnes pieces fortes et trebuchantes for our immediate
 
 GASCONISM. 
 
 I8 5 
 
 wherewithal. As for the bills and bonds well, we 
 have destroyed them, so they can tell no tales. Mon 
 enfant, be gay.' 
 
 " Upon this," went on the sergeant, " I arrested 
 them and found these." 
 
 Whereupon the man produced from his pockets 
 numerous gold coins, French and English, Louis d'ors 
 and double Louis d'ors, some gold quadruple pis- 
 toles, and a handful of English guineas. And also he 
 brought forth, wrapped in a filthy handkerchief, a con- 
 siderable quantity of pieces of jewellery containing 
 superb precious stones. There were two necklaces, 
 innumerable rings and bracelets, and a woman's tiara 
 of rubies and diamonds. And from this latter the 
 rubies and diamonds being set alternately one of the 
 former was missing. 
 
 " Alas ! " said Bertie aside to his brother captain, 
 " that proves nothing as regards my poor friend. He 
 possessed no jewels, nor, in the world, one-half of that 
 money. He had nought but his pay and a little 
 allowed him by the Scot's Fund. These men may be 
 his murderers, but all this is the result of another rob- 
 bery perhaps another murder." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said the captain of the guard, "we 
 will hear their story. Observe, a stone is missing 
 from the tiara, and such a stone was found where your 
 friend was slain." Then turning to the two fellows 
 before them, he said curtly, " Now, your account of 
 yourselves. And explain your possession of all this," 
 and he swept his hand over the plain guard-room 
 table, whereupon the money and the jewellery had 
 been temporarily placed. 
 
 " Explain ! " exclaimed the man who was called 
 D'Aunay and who appeared to be the boldest of the
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 two while he regarded the captain with an assumed 
 air of fierceness and disdain. " Explain ! What shall 
 I explain? That we are two gentlemen of Gascony." 
 
 " Sans doute" the captain muttered under his teeth. 
 
 " Out, monsieur, sans doute" repeated the fellow, 
 who had overheard his whisper. " Of Gascony, I re- 
 peat. From Tarbes, and resident at Paris." 
 
 " Amiens scarcely lies on the route between those 
 places," the captain remarked quietly. 
 
 " Permit that I make myself clear. We had been 
 to your great fair in this fine city, and, by St.- Firmin, 
 had much enjoyed ourselves and were riding back to 
 Paris when, by great misfortune, my friend, who suf- 
 fers much from a painful and distracting vertigo, fell 
 from his horse. Naturally, I remained to solace and 
 console him, and 'twas there that your sergeant who, 
 you will pardon me for saying, p'ossesses not manners 
 of the highest refinement and appears to combine the 
 calling of a mouchard with that of a soldier burst in 
 upon our privacy, and has added to his insults by 
 dragging us back here." 
 
 "You have your papers, doubtless?" the captain 
 asked. 
 
 " Doubtless at Paris. They are there." 
 
 "Is it usual for gentlemen of of Gascony to 
 travel with such jewellery and gems as these?" 
 
 "Monsieur le capitaine" said the man named 
 D'Aunay, "you will pardon me if I say that it is usual 
 for gentlemen of Gascony to do precisely whatever it 
 seems best to them. At the same time they are re- 
 specters most profound of the law. Therefore, mon- 
 sieur, if you have had any complaint of jewellery 
 stolen, I am willing to give a more full account of that 
 which is in our possession."
 
 GASCONISM. 
 
 I8 7 
 
 He was a bold villain yet, perhaps, more of a 
 crafty one. On the road from Paris to Amiens his 
 sharpness had gathered something from the troopers, 
 chatting among themselves, of what they were being 
 brought back for, and he knew that it was for murder, 
 and not robbery, that they were wanted. Therefore, 
 being innocent of the former, he brazened it out as 
 regards the latter, though all the while thinking that 
 there was, probably, as great a hue and cry after those 
 who had robbed the man near the cathedral as those 
 who had murdered the other one. 
 
 That the captain of the guard was nonplussed his 
 equally sharp eyes saw at once ; and he drew himself 
 up a little more to his full height and regarded the 
 other with a still more assured air of haughty disdain. 
 However, the captain went on : 
 
 " There was a murder committed five nights ago in 
 the Place de la Cathedrale " 
 
 " Nom d'un chien!" interrupted D'Aunay, "is it 
 murder we are accused of next ? Excellent ! Go on, 
 monsieur. There are still other crimes in the deca- 
 logue." 
 
 " No, you are not accused of it. But circumstances 
 require explanation. First to me, afterwards, perhaps, 
 to the law. One circumstance is that in your jewel- 
 lery," and he emphasised the " your " very strongly, 
 " there is a stone, a ruby, missing from the tiara. 
 Now " 
 
 "It is found ?" exclaimed the cunning vagabond, 
 with an admirable assumption of gladness. " Ha ! 
 that is well, monsieur ; these are joyous tidings. That 
 tiara was my mother's, La Marquise d'Aunay. I am 
 indeed thankful." 
 
 " It was found on the spot where the murder took 
 13
 
 jgg DENOUNCED. 
 
 place the spot where the victim's body was also 
 found." 
 
 " Vraiment ! And that spot was ?" he asked, 
 
 with still greater coolness. 
 
 "I shall not tell you. Indeed, it would be best 
 for you to say what spots you were in on that night." 
 
 " On that night ; monsieur speaks of which night ? " 
 
 " The 28th. The last night of the fair." 
 
 " The 28th ! J acques, man ami" to his friend, 
 " correct me if I forget to mention any place we vis- 
 ited. Vonons. We supped at nine tiens, the pate de 
 canard was excellent ; we must instruct our cook in 
 Paris to attempt one. Then we visited the theatre, a 
 vile representation of ' Les Pr&ieuses,' I assure you, 
 monsieur. Next, because in Gascony we never forget, 
 amidst all our troubles of after years, our early reli- 
 gious instruction, we decided to attend the evening 
 service at La Cathedrale ; there was a large and rev- 
 erent crowd, monsieur " 
 
 "Dame!" exclaimed the captain, turning to Bertie; 
 "I can do nothing with the fellow." Then, re-address- 
 ing D'Aunay, he said : 
 
 " I have finished with you, sir. Your next exami- 
 nation will be before the Procureur du Roi," and he 
 ordered the two " gentlemen of Gascony " to be con- 
 fined in the guard-house until that official should in- 
 terrogate them,. 
 
 Yet they were too much even for this astute old 
 lawyer, who had learned his craft in Paris in the Law 
 Courts of the Grand Monarch, as they had learned 
 theirs in half the gaols of France. 
 
 D'Aunay insisted first on knowing who charged 
 them with having stolen the jewellery; where the per- 
 son was who had lost it or had it stolen ; and if the
 
 GASCONISM. l8 
 
 unhappy young man who had been so monstrously and 
 cruelly done to death was known, or even supposed, 
 to have been possessed of any similar jewellery ? 
 Having achieved victory over the Procureur in this 
 respect, in the doing of which he exhibited such virtu- 
 ous indignation, accompanied by strange exclamations 
 and shrugs and hangings of the bench in front of him, 
 as to nearly terrify the representative of the law into 
 releasing him, he began on a new tack. 
 
 "Summon the good woman," he exclaimed, "who 
 saw the murder done. By St. Firmin, if she says one 
 of us is the man, then to the wheel with us ! Also call 
 the watch at the southern gate; if he in turn says that 
 we did not pass through ere midnight I hear the ex- 
 cellent female places the assassination after the first 
 quarter past the hour had struck then, I say, to the 
 wheel with us ! Sacrt nom d'un chien ! were ever gen- 
 tlemen treated thus before ? Sacrj mille tonnerres, is 
 this France in which we are ? " 
 
 The woman was summoned, and instantly replied, 
 "No, neither of the messieurs before her was the man. 
 No resemblance whatever. She was certain. That 
 face she could never forget. It was a devil's. On her 
 most sacred oath, neither were concerned in the awful 
 scene." 
 
 The watchmen at the gate affirmed that both men 
 passed out before midnight struck the hour for the 
 gate to close on /^-days. There was no possibility 
 of his being mistaken one, the big man, swore at him 
 for having half closed the gate, thinking the last per- 
 son had gone through for that night ; the other in- 
 sulted him and jeered at him, and flung a sou at his feet. 
 
 "So," said the old Procureur du Roi, "you seem 
 free of this crime. Yet, I misdoubt me but you are
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the lawful prey of the gibbet. The sergeant heard 
 you speaking of your plunder. That you have stolen 
 the jewellery no one can doubt " 
 
 " Produce the owner," interrupted D'Aunay, on 
 whom a clear light had now dawned. " We ask noth- 
 ing but that." 
 
 " Also you swear by St. Firmin. He is a saint of 
 Picardy, not of the south. of France." 
 
 " It would be strange if I did not swear by him. 
 In the few hours we were here we heard everyone we 
 met swear terribly by him. He must, indeed, be a 
 saint of Picardy surtout of Amiens." 
 
 " Also," went on the judge, " you spoke truth when 
 you said you had been to the theatre and to the Ca- 
 thedral " 
 
 " Naturally, monsieur. It is ever my habit. To 
 shun the truth is impossible to me." 
 
 " But your actions were suspicious. Both at the 
 theatre and the cathedral you were observed to place 
 yourselves, to force yourselves, nearest to those who 
 presented the appearance of greatest wealth " 
 
 " Finissons /" roared D'Aunay now in virtuous in- 
 dignation. " Enough. Produce more tangible reasons 
 for this detention, these insults, or release us. Your 
 charges have all fallen to the ground ; you now begin 
 a fresh one equally baseless. Yet, because I love jus- 
 tice and respect the law its administrators I cannot 
 always respect if anyone has been robbed at either 
 theatre or church, bring them forward, and we will 
 meet that charge too." 
 
 "You will be released," said the Procureur; "you 
 are now free. But the jewellery will be retained for 
 the present. Later on it may be returned to you." 
 
 So, not without many protestations, the fellows
 
 GASCONISM. j^! 
 
 went away from Amiens, D'Aunay breathing maledic- 
 tions against the barbarous laws which permitted hon- 
 est gentlemen to be arrested and their property con- 
 fiscated. Yet, he swore, the end was not yet arrived 
 at ; when they reached Paris they would soon set the 
 highest legal authorities at work. Also he edified the 
 good people of Amiens by the tenderness and care 
 with which he assisted his suffering friend to mount 
 his horse. 
 
 Later in that day they halted for an evening meal 
 on the cool grass at the wayside, and, as D'Aunay 
 helped his comrade from his wallet, he said : 
 
 " Jacques, mon ami, observe always the advantage 
 of truth. Had I not mentioned our visit to the cathe- 
 dral in the earlier part of the evening that cursed ruby 
 would almost have sunk us." Then he wagged his 
 head and took a drink of wine. 
 
 " Yet," he continued, " I understand it not. Let us 
 consider. We took the plunder close by the cathedral. 
 In front of the cathedral that other one was slain. 
 None claim the jewels -peste ! 'tis hard to lose them. 
 What do you make of it ? " 
 
 " A fool can see," replied Jacques, as he shifted his 
 wounded leg into an easier position. " Any fool can 
 see that. It was our friend who " 
 
 "Precisely," said D'Aunay. "Precisely. Aliens! 
 To Paris." 
 
 " And the ruby fell out when we were examining 
 the spoil ! " 
 
 " Again, precisely. And remember, Jacques, that 
 if we ever meet our friend who once owned the jewels 
 it would be worth while attacking him. Also, above 
 all, Jacques, remember the truth is best. Allans ! To 
 Paris ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" 
 
 AFTER that all hope was given up of discovering 
 who had murdered Douglas. From the first, from the 
 moment Bertie saw the jewels taken from the two 
 vagabonds by the sergeant, he felt that neither of 
 them were the culprits. Yet, all asked each other 
 whenever they met, " If not these scoundrels, who 
 then ?" 
 
 " He had no enemy in France, in the world," said 
 Bertie, as they sat one night in the lodgings which 
 Kate had hired for her father and herself. " Why, 
 why should any creature have taken his life ? In his 
 regiment he was most popular nay, beloved. Oh ! 
 oh! I cannot understand it." 
 
 And now, since, as has been said, the summer was 
 waning for Douglas had been dead three months 
 when they talked thus their little circle was about to 
 be broken up once more. One was gone for ever, 
 they said in whispered tones, he could never come 
 back ; could those who still remained be once more 
 united after they separated at Amiens ? 
 
 Bertie, with his troop and one other of the Regi- 
 ment of Picardy, was to proceed to St. Denis; Kate 
 and her father were to go to Paris ; Archibald was to 
 remain behind at Amiens. 
 
 Over the latter a great change had 'come since his 
 192
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" ,g 3 
 
 brother's death. He had always been a quiet and re- 
 served man perhaps from the very nature of his call- 
 ing one who never said more than was absolutely 
 necessary to any person on any subject; now he 
 seemed to have retired entirely within himself and to 
 have but two things in this world to which his life was 
 devoted : his Faith, and his determination to find the 
 murderer of Douglas. 
 
 " And," he said to Bertie, " I shall do it. Have no 
 fear of that. I shall do it. I have now an idea 
 though an idea of so strange, so extraordinary a 
 nature, that I hardly dare to let myself believe that it 
 can ever take a tangible shape." 
 
 " And may I, may Kate, know nothing of that idea ? 
 Remember how we both loved him." 
 
 " No," Sholto replied. " No. It may come to 
 nothing must, it almost seems certain, come to 
 nothing. Yet, if the secret can be unravelled, I will 
 find the way to do it. Then, when I am sure, if ever 
 I am, you shall know all. Nay, you will most as- 
 suredly know all." 
 
 "Will you tell us tell me no more than this ?" 
 asked Bertie. 
 
 " I will tell you nothing. It is possible I may be 
 mistaken ; more than possible. If I am not, then you 
 will know." 
 
 And with this the other had to be content, and 
 to prepare to proceed to his new quarters outside 
 Paris. 
 
 The Jesuit's idea was, indeed, one about which he 
 might well say that he could not believe it should ever 
 assume a tangible shape. It was nothing else than 
 that he believed he had seen those jewels especially 
 that tiara-r-before.
 
 194 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 He had examined them many times since they had 
 been taken away from D'Aunay and his companion 
 and kept in the custody of the Mayor of Amiens had 
 turned them over and over in his hands; scrutinised 
 the settings to see if he could observe any mark or 
 inscription upon them. But there was nothing no 
 coronet engraved inside the tiara with a name, or ini- 
 tials, such as might well have been looked for in such 
 costly gewgaws nothing ! Yet the tiara forced itself 
 upon his memory, seemed to be a thing he had seen 
 before worn upon a woman's head at some great 
 ceremony. Especially he seemed to remember one 
 diamond to the extreme left of the diadem, a yellow, 
 light brown stone that had flashed out a different 
 light from its fellows beneath the gleams of many- 
 lustred candelabras. But where ? Where ? Where ? 
 
 "Almost," he whispered to himself,"! seem to see, 
 as through a mist, the head, the face that was beneath 
 it. Dark hair, grizzled grey ; pale olive complexion ; 
 lines of care. Who was it ? Who ? If I could remem- 
 ber that." 
 
 At night as he lay upon his truckle bed, or as he 
 walked by the banks of the Somme, or held the jewels 
 in his hands for more than once he went to see them 
 he mused on all this. Nay, when the memory of his 
 beloved brother and his cruel death was more than 
 usually strong upon him, he would ponder upon the 
 idea that was ever in his mind as he stood at night, 
 solitary and alone, in the Place de la Cathe"drale be- 
 fore the great west door, and on the very spot where 
 his loved one had fallen. But still memory failed him, 
 or, as he came near believing now, he was the sport of 
 a delusion. 
 
 Practised by long training in every mental art, he
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" I gt 
 
 took next to recalling each scene of splendour for in 
 some such scene it was, he felt sure, that he had seen 
 that gleaming hoop worn, if he had ever seen it at all 
 in which he had ever taken part from the time he 
 had been ordained a priest, from the time when, an 
 ardent enthusiast of the Stuart cause, he had mixed in 
 the great court circles. Scenes at Versailles, at Marly 
 and Vincennes, St. Germain and Fontainebleau for 
 he had been amidst them all were recalled carefully, 
 yet still the phantom of the dark-haired woman with 
 the threads of grey running through that hair evaded 
 him. He had known so many such, he told himself, 
 wearily ; had seen so many women to whom jewels and 
 adornments were the natural accompaniments, that, 
 perhaps, it was not strange he should forget. Also, 
 he reflected, how easy for him, who had seen countless 
 jewelled head-dresses worn, to imagine that he re- 
 membered this particular one ! 
 
 Yet he could swear he remembered that yellow, 
 brown diamond ! 
 
 Tortured thus by his struggles with the dim shad- 
 ows of his memory, he bade farewell to the others as 
 they departed, and left him alone in the city so bitterly 
 dear to him. 
 
 "Farewell, Kate," he said, " farewell. God bless 
 you ! You are separated, as I think, for ever from a 
 man utterly unworthy of you ; yet you have still the 
 consolation of being without dishonour ay, without 
 speck or blemish. He will never trouble you again, I 
 do believe. Let him, therefore, go his evil way, and 
 go you yours in peace and happiness. I would that ] 
 could see a way to your obtaining the one happiness 
 that should belong to you ; wish it for your sake and 
 Bertie's. But it cannot be. Not yet, at least. There-
 
 196 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 fore bear up. Heaven in its mercy will, I know, pro- 
 tect and prosper you." 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye, Archie," Kate replied, as she 
 sobbed unrestrainedly. " Oh, how unhappy we are ! 
 We looked forward to so much in this meeting here, 
 and see see how it has ended ! Shall we ever be 
 happy again ? " 
 
 " In Heaven's mercy," he said, " in Heaven's mercy." 
 Then he kissed her on the brow, shook hands with her 
 father, and went his way back to his gloomy life, and 
 now still more gloomy thoughts. Yet never in those 
 thoughts no, not even though they had sometimes 
 spoken of the man himself did it dawn upon him 
 that here was the one who might be the murderer of 
 Douglas. 
 
 Bertie was already gone, the two troops of the Regi- 
 ment of Picardy having marched out a day or so be- 
 fore, the blare of their trumpets and the clatter of the 
 horses' hoofs having awakened the city early. And he 
 had seen Kate dawn though it was glancing from 
 her window to look at him, to wave him her fare- 
 well. 
 
 "Yet," he had said to her overnight, "it must not 
 be for long, Kitty. It seems to me that we grow 
 nearer to one another as trouble falls at least, there 
 can be no assassin's knife to come between us. Kate, 
 I shall come and see you as often as I can get leave to 
 visit Paris ; even though you are in a King's a future 
 King's house, as I still hope I may come. Is it 
 not so ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " you may come always. Oh, 
 Bertie, we are parted for ever our lives, our hopes, 
 all yet if I could not sometimes see you, know that 
 you are well, happy you will be happy, will you not,
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" m; 
 
 when this great sorrow is eased by time ? I think I 
 should die. Surely it cannot be wrong, remembering 
 what we once were to each other, what we once were 
 to have been, to wish to know and hear of you." 
 
 " What we once were to have been ! " he repeated, 
 in almost a whisper. "To have been. O Kate! 
 O Kate ! Those plans, those projects for the future ! " 
 His voice broke and failed him as he continued : " You 
 have not forgotten them ! Kate, do you remember 
 how once we pictured ourselves growing old together, 
 how we meditated on the time that should come when, 
 our lives done with, we should rest together in some 
 calm and peaceful grave ? " 
 
 "No," she said, "no," and sprang to her feet ex- 
 citedly. " No ! no ! no ! I will not remember will 
 recall nothing, for if I do I shall go mad. Remember 
 nothing 'tis best so. Go, Bertie Elphinston, go to 
 your duties, as I will go to mine. Let us forget every- 
 thing except except " she faltered, changing in 
 
 a moment womanlike " that it was I who ruined and 
 cursed both our lives." 
 
 He soothed her as best he could, reproaching him- 
 self for having revived such memories; reproaching 
 himself, too, for the silence that had led to her believ- 
 ing him false. And once he said, as he had said in 
 England when first they met again : 
 
 " Mine was the fault, let mine be the blame. Yet, 
 unhappily, both have had to suffer. Surely something 
 must arise to end that suffering ere long." 
 
 He did not know it, could not, indeed, know it ; yet 
 the end was far off still. There were more vigils of 
 sorrow to be kept by both, more grief and pain to be 
 endured. 
 
 Nor when she said between her tears, " If we were
 
 198 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 to be parted again now, if I should never see your 
 face more, my heart would break," could she know 
 what lay in front of them black, dark, and low- 
 ering. 
 
 Her future was in a way provided for. The Cardi- 
 nal Tencin, in spite of being somewhat out of favour 
 now and retired to his archbishopric of Lyons for 
 when a French prelate was in disgrace his punishment 
 was that he should attend to his diocese instead of 
 being in Paris ! had still entire influence over the ex- 
 iled Stuarts. Therefore it was to him that Archibald 
 Sholto applied on behalf of Kate, and through him 
 that she was to be appointed to the small court now 
 being formed round Charles Edward in Paris. 
 
 That unhappy prince though fortunate in some 
 things, especially in his escape from Scotland after 
 the rebellion had now landed at Roscort, three 
 leagues west of Morlaix, from the " Bellona," of St. 
 Malo, and was safe once more in Paris. His adven- 
 tures since the defeat of Culloden had been truly mar- 
 vellous, and his escapes not less so ; twice he was in 
 danger of being shot, five times in danger of being 
 drowned, nine times he was pursued by men of war 
 and armed vessels of King George, and six times he 
 escaped being captured by what seemed to be miracles- 
 Also he had been almost famished for want of food 
 and drink, and had had to lie out on the bare heaths or 
 wild mountains and to shelter in caves. 
 
 Yet now he had entered Paris again, had been gra- 
 ciously welcomed by the French King and Queen, and 
 was in treaty for a fine house in the Quartier St. Ger- 
 main. It was to that house that Kate, with her 
 father, was to go, there to form two of his small 
 court.
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" igg 
 
 At first when she took up her residence in it she 
 was happy. She was among friends she had known in 
 Paris, many of them also comrades of Bertie who had 
 fought in the last invasion and themselves escaped. 
 The Lords Ogilvie and Elcho were there with the 
 ladies of their family ; there, too, were old Lochiel 
 and young Lord Lewis Gordon ; the young Lochiel 
 also, and Captain Stafford, who had lain long in New- 
 gate in irons, yet was now escaped and free. 
 
 Also she was happy because Bertie was able to 
 come and see her, and on one occasion, with all the 
 othres, including herself, accompanied the prince 
 when he went to pay his respects to Louis at Ver- 
 sailles. 
 
 " Faith, Kate," he whispered to her on that even- 
 ing, when, Charles Edward being at supper with the 
 royal family, they strolled together up and down the 
 mirrored galleries of the palace, " 'tis even better than 
 the old days, were it not that dear Douglas has left 
 us," and he sighed. " But," he went on, " you are pro- 
 vided for that, at least, is well, or as well as things 
 are ever likely to be." 
 
 She said, " Yes, it is well, so far." Then she con- 
 tinued : " 
 
 " Still, Bertie, I am unhappy." 
 
 "Unhappy?" 
 
 " Yes. Unhappy because I never know when that 
 man my husband may cross my path again. Oh, if 
 I could be sure I should never see him more!" 
 
 " At least he can never harm or annoy you. Have 
 no fear of that. Remember, he knows that Archibald 
 and I are in Paris, and, of course, believes that Doug- 
 las is here also. His dread of us will keep him away. 
 He will trouble you no more. And if he should come
 
 20O 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 which is of all things most unlikely why, I shall 
 be near at hand to shield and protect you." 
 
 " You will always be near me ? " she asked. " Al- 
 ways now ? Oh, promise, Bertie ; promise me that you 
 will never disappear again." 
 
 " Of course, I promise. Why, where should I go 
 to ? " and he laughed as he asked. " My life is now 
 bound up with the regiment. Short of campaigns 
 nothing can take me far from you." 
 
 " Yet," she replied, " I fear fear always. It is 
 only when you are near that I feel safe feel that I 
 have one who is a brother to stand between me and 
 harm." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " as a brother. It can never be 
 anything else than that now yet, as a brother, I will 
 not fail you." 
 
 So they went back to Paris as they had come, the 
 royal visit being over. 
 
 And then it seemed at last as if, with some few 
 changes, things were to be almost as they had once 
 been, though it is true that, instead of the old house 
 in the Rue Trousse Vache, she and her father were 
 lodged in a mansion which was in fact a palace, that 
 Douglas was gone out of their life forever, and that 
 she was a wife in name, though nothing else. 
 
 Bertie came at least once a week to Paris from St. 
 Denis, both to pay his respects to his prince as he 
 regarded always Charles Edward and also to see her, 
 and brought her flowers from the gardens round that 
 old town. But he brought no news from Archibald as 
 to his having been successful in discovering who the 
 murderer of Douglas was. The priest had, indeed, 
 written to them once or twice from Amiens, but he 
 either refrained from mentioning the subject at all, or,
 
 "WHAT FACE THAT HAUNTS ME?" 2 QI 
 
 if he did so, said that he could discover nothing, and 
 that any idea he might have had on the matter was, 
 he now feared, a futile one. 
 
 " I began to also fear," Bertie said, as he talked 
 it over with Kate, " that it was indeed a futile one 
 that never now will he be avenged. Poor Douglas! 
 Who could have desired his life who have struck so 
 foul a blow ?" 
 
 " It must have been," she answered, "as we at first 
 thought, a murder in the hope of robbery afterwards." 
 
 " Or," said Bertie, " as sometimes I think now, the 
 offshoot of another an undiscovered murder. What 
 if those vagabonds who called themselves Gascon gen- 
 tlemen had previously slain someone else who was 
 possessed of all that jewellery, and Douglas had come 
 across them at the time, and, in endeavouring to save 
 that other, was slain himself ? " 
 
 "No," she said, "no. That is impossible. No 
 other victim's body was found, and there was no place 
 where they could have hidden it away, or, having hid- 
 den it, could not also have disposed of his. Besides, 
 remember : The woman the concierge saw only one 
 other slay him, and that other was neither of the Gas- 
 cons. Nor was his sword drawn. No, we must seek 
 elsewhere for the solution of that crime." 
 
 Thus they talked it over and over whenever they 
 met. Surely it was natural that they should do so, see- 
 ing how much he had been to them, and how awful a 
 blow his assassination was, but never did they arrive 
 at any thought or idea of who was the actual mur- 
 derer. 
 
 And, as they so discussed it day by day, the autumn 
 departed as the summer had done, and the winter was 
 almost upon them. Already the leaves lay in heaps at
 
 202 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the roots of the trees, the swallows were all gone, 
 the nights were long and dark, and Douglas slept un- 
 avenged in his grave. And still the troubles, the griefs 
 and sorrows of this luckless man and woman were 
 not yet at an end. 
 
 Another blow was still to fall upon them it was 
 close at hand now, though they knew it not.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL MYSELF AM HELL!" 
 
 IT was the feast of St. Denys, the patron saint of 
 France. 
 
 Over all the land, from north to south and east to 
 west, the churches and cathedrals were crowded on 
 that day with worshippers bringing offerings and gifts 
 to the altars, praying for the saint's aid to be still 
 continued to them, asking for pardon for past sins, for 
 prosperity in the future. On that day the King him- 
 self went in state to Notre Dame, accompanied by his 
 brilliant court. In the provinces, governors of for- 
 tresses and of departments did the same thing at the 
 local cathedrals; prisoners were released because of 
 the anniversary of St. Denys, while some of the worst 
 among them were executed both as an example, and 
 because it was the great /^-day and a holiday when 
 other people required to be amused. 
 
 In Amiens, as in all the other cities boasting a 
 beautiful cathedral and possessed of a strong religious 
 element, it was the same as elsewhere. From morn- 
 ing until night the bells clanged at intervals from 
 the towers of Notre Dame and the fourteen parish 
 churches ; processions innumerable took place, masses 
 of all kinds Capitular, Conventual, Missa Cantata, 
 Missa Fidelium, Mass High and Low were said and 
 14 203
 
 204 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 sung, accompanied by Kyrie, Gloria, and Credo, by 
 Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. 
 
 But at last all was over of a religious nature. 
 The crowds that had filled Notre Dame d'Amiens 
 were streaming out to other forms of celebration of 
 the jour de Patron. It was the turn of the theatres 
 now and the family gatherings, of the dance and song 
 and jest among the better classes; the turn of the 
 supper party and the wine-shop and the courtesan for 
 the remainder of the day or rather night. 
 
 Yet, for those who still were willing to continue 
 their religious devotions, still to regard the occasion 
 more as a fast than a feast, the opportunity presented 
 itself and was availed of by many. In every church 
 in the city, in the cathedral above all, worshippers 
 still knelt in prayer, though the hour grew late; at 
 the confessionals hidden priests still listened to the sins 
 real or imaginary of those who knelt before them. 
 
 In that cathedral with, still lingering about it, the 
 odour of the incense that had been used that day, 
 with the organ still pealing gently through the aisles, 
 while at intervals the voix celeste, in flute-like tones, 
 seemed almost to utter the soul's cry, " Oh, Agnus 
 Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere mihi ! " those 
 confessors sat there, and would sit until midnight 
 struck, to listen to and absolve all those who sought 
 for pardon. 
 
 " My son," came forth the muffled voice of one, his 
 face being hidden in the impenetrable darkness in 
 which he sat a darkness still more profound since 
 many of the lights in the great edifice had either been 
 extinguished or had burnt themselves out, "the con- 
 fession is not yet all made. Therefore, as yet there 
 can be no absolution. Confess thy sins ! Continue ! "
 
 "WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL!" 205 
 
 Kneeling outside, the stricken creature thus ad- 
 dressed, its wild hair streaming down its back and 
 meeting with the other unkempt hair on cheek and 
 chin, its eyes gleaming, like a hunted animal's, around 
 and up and down the dusky aisles, and glancing at 
 pillars as though fearing listeners behind each, went 
 on : 
 
 "My life, oh, holy father, was in his hands. He 
 knew all; knew I was in France, and that he could 
 give me up to justice to those whom I had wronged. 
 Oh, father, mea culpa, mea culpa! Absolve me! ab- 
 solve me! " 
 
 " Tell first thy sin," the muffled voice said again. 
 " Thou hast not yet told all. Deceive not the Church. 
 Confession first, then absolution." 
 
 The penitent groaned and wrung his hands, threw 
 back the locks from his face, and then, with that face 
 pressed close to the confessional, hissed in a whisper: 
 
 " Father, I was mad am mad, I think. I was sore 
 wrought ; but half an hour before I had been assaulted 
 and robbed by two villains of much wealth in jewels 
 and and I feared he would denounce me for my 
 crimes, make my presence known. So, holy father 
 in my frenzy, in my fear I struck him dead. I slew 
 him. Have mercy on me, God ! " 
 
 "Where slew you him? "the priest's stifled voice 
 continued. 
 
 "There, father without, by the west door. Oh, 
 pardon, pardon, that here, on holy ground that should 
 be sanctuary, I took his life ! " 
 
 It seemed almost to the wretch outside the con- 
 fessional that the priest had uttered a gasp, had start- 
 ed in his seat, as he heard these words; yet presently 
 he spoke again :
 
 20 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 "The victim being the young Scots officer found 
 murdered more than three months past ? " 
 
 " Tis so, holy father. 'Tis so. Oh, pardon ! Par- 
 don me ! Mea culpa, mea culpa ! " 
 
 " What restitution have you made ? " the voice was 
 heard to ask. " What restitution propose to make ? " 
 
 " I know not what to make, father. I cannot call 
 him back to life. What can I, must I do ? " 
 
 " Have you wronged others man, woman, or 
 child ? Think ! trifle not with the Church. There 
 are, doubtless, others." 
 
 " Oh, father, I have been an evil liver a bad hus- 
 band ; bad friend. Set my feet but in the right way ! 
 show me the path. And oh ! father, absolve me of 
 this sin of blood. Above all, that ! " 
 
 " Confess all," the priest said, " confess all." 
 
 Then, still shivering there, while more and more 
 the shadows grew within the great temple and it be- 
 came more and more empty, the wretched assassin 
 went on, though ever and again glancing behind the 
 stately column and pillars as though fearing that un- 
 seen listener. He told how, determined to gain pos- 
 session of a woman whose beauty maddened him the 
 more so because she despised him, or, at least, re- 
 garded him not he had tricked her into the belief 
 that the man she really loved had jilted her. Also 
 how, when even that brought them no nearer, he had 
 married her. How, later on, when wearied and exas- 
 perated by her hate and scorn, he had denied her as 
 his wife, hinting that he was himself a priest ; yet it 
 was a lie, for he was no priest, having never been more 
 that a lector. 
 
 " Almost," came forth the confessor's voice again, 
 "art thou beyond absolution beyond pardon."
 
 'WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL ! " 
 
 207 
 
 " No ! no ! no ! " wailed the wretch. 
 
 " Twice hast thou used our holy Church to aid in 
 thy deceit. First, when thou suborned a villain and 
 caused him to pretend he had performed the holy 
 office of marriage ; next, when thou falsely claimedst 
 the office of priest to disavow thy lawful wife. Man, 
 how shall I absolve thee ? Yet, be more careful, or thy 
 soul is lost for ever. Hast thou done more evil than 
 this, committed more outrages against the Church ?" 
 
 Because, perhaps, the wretched creature was half 
 mad with terror now, with a new terror for his soul 
 whereas before he had but feared for his body he 
 told all that he had done ; how, indeed, he had still 
 further sinned against the Church in that he had set 
 on foot a plot having for part of its intent the ruin of 
 a priest of that Church, a Jesuit, one Sholto. It was 
 all told at last. 
 
 For so long did the confessor sit silent in his un- 
 seen place that the miserable penitent, thinking no 
 absolution would come forth to him, began to tremble, 
 even to weep, and to call on him again for pardon and 
 for pity. But at last the other spoke: 
 
 ''Art thou well-to-do in the world?" he asked. 
 " What are thy means ? " 
 
 Yes, he said he was well-to-do ; he had large means 
 in both England and France. What portion should 
 he set aside to appease both God and Jhe Church ? 
 
 " All," answered the priest. " All." 
 
 " All ! " he gasped. " Go forth a beggar ! 
 
 All. Ay, all. Better go forth a beggar, stand 
 naked in the market-place, than strip thy soul of its 
 last chance of salvation." 
 
 " All ! " 
 
 To the last sol, the last denier excepting a pro-
 
 20 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 vision for thy unhappy wife, Thou art the shedder 
 of blood, the blasphemer of the Church and its holy 
 offices, thy soul is clogged with guilt. I know not, 
 even then, and with all else that thou must do, if it 
 can ever find expiation." 
 
 " Say not so, father ; absolve me, pardon me ! See ! 
 see ! I will do it. Before God I swear, in this His 
 house, that I will do it ! I will become a beggar, part 
 with all. Only, father, give me His pardon. Pardon, 
 and set me free ! " 
 
 " Yet, still more," said that voice, " must thou do. 
 Listen ! " 
 
 And from his lips there fell so deep a charge that 
 the murderer, kneeling there, knew that to save his 
 soul in heaven he must forego all hopes of future 
 peace on earth. Nevermore was he to touch meat 
 nor aught but the coarsest black bread, never drink 
 but water, never sleep soft, nor lie warm again. And 
 there was worse even than that. He was to go forth 
 to wild, savage parts of the world, there to pass the 
 rest of his existence in trying to preach God's good- 
 ness and mercy to the heathen who knew Him not. 
 On the promise that he would do this the priest would 
 give him absolution ; otherwise he would refuse it, 
 and his soul must go to everlasting perdition. 
 
 He promised, and he was absolved ! 
 
 Still sitting there, the last in the cathedral that 
 night for all were gone now except those who were 
 to guard it until midnight had struck he became the 
 prey of even worse horrors than he had been before ; 
 he was absolved as regards his soul, yet into his mind 
 a new fear had arisen for his body a fear that became 
 a spectre. He had thought that once or twice he had 
 recognised in the tones of the priest's voice some that
 
 209 
 
 were familiar to him ; now he felt sure that they were. 
 He had confessed to his bitterest enemy on earth to 
 Archibald Sholto ! to the brother of the man whom 
 he had murdered ! 
 
 This was the meaning of the awful doom passed on 
 him the doom of ruin, beggary, and starvation, of ex- 
 patriation to wild and savage lands. To him ! He 
 had confessed to him of all others ! Yet, was it so, or 
 was he, in truth, mad ? He had heard of madmen who 
 knew that they were mad and who could yet be so 
 cunning as to contend with that madness, wrestle with 
 it, subdue it for a time. Let him do so now. Let him 
 think it all out. Was it, in truth, Archibald Sholto ? 
 
 It might well be. 
 
 For three months he had been in hiding in a small 
 village near Amiens, watching over the course of 
 events connected with his assassination of Douglas, 
 avoiding, above all others, yet keeping them ever 
 under his own view, two persons. One was Archibald, 
 the other the woman who had seen his face on that 
 night the white-faced woman in the darkened room 
 who had raised her finger and pointed as he did the 
 deed. 
 
 "Avoided them," he muttered now, as he sat there 
 in the dark, watching the sacred lamp that burned un- 
 ceasingly above the high altar, but still engaged always 
 in peering into the deep shadows and blackness in 
 which the huge pile was now enveloped "avoided 
 them. O God, how have I avoided them ! Yet, 
 drawn irresistibly to where they were. Little does he 
 know how I have seen him officiating at his own 
 church, or she how I have passed her close, though 
 unseen ; even peered into her room at night from the 
 street, when, dragged here by by the fierce desire
 
 2io DENOUNCED. 
 
 to stand again upon the spot where where he fell. 
 Once, too, she felt, unwittingly, my presence. As I 
 brushed against her in the street she shuddered and 
 drew back from me. Something revealed that one 
 accursed had touched her." 
 
 He moaned aloud as he sat there, his head buried 
 in his hands; then, because his mind was now disor- 
 dered and he was half mad, half sane, a smile came on 
 the evil face that he turned up as the moon's rays 
 came through the great rose window and lighted all 
 the nave. "Yet," he murmured, "it was in the con- 
 fessional under the seal of confession. If it was 
 Douglas's brother, he can do naught. Naught ! Con- 
 fession is sacred. That seal cannot be broken. But 
 was it he ? Was it ? Was it ? 
 
 " His face I could not see, but the tones were like 
 unto his," he continued. "And once he started I 
 am certain of it. O God, have I told his brother 
 all? His brother! His brother!" 
 
 Above, from the great tower, there boomed the 
 striking of the hour midnight. And again he shud- 
 dered and moaned and whispered with white lips : 
 
 " The very hour, the hour that I cannot hear, can 
 never hear again, without agony and horror unspeak- 
 able. The hour told by the same clock that told it on 
 that night of blood. I must go," he wailed in low, 
 broken tones, " must go there. He draws me to the 
 spot; I see his finger beckoning me nightly. His eyes 
 met mine once, a month ago, as I reached Paris. I 
 thought I was free and had escaped, yet they dragged 
 me back to this accursed spot. I must go. I must go. 
 He waits for me. Ever ever when the moon is near 
 her full. I am absolved by him, his brother, yet he is 
 always beckoning me and makes me go."
 
 "WHICH WAY I FLY IS HELL!" 2 II 
 
 A hand fell on his shoulder as he sat there, and he 
 started up with almost a shriek, and with his own hand 
 thrust in his breast perhaps to draw some hidden 
 knife, perhaps to still the leap his heart gave. 
 
 " Monsieur," a voice said, the voice of the old 
 sacristan, " permit that I disturb your pious medita- 
 tions. But all" are gone now, including the priests. 
 The cathedral is about to close." 
 
 "Yes, yes," he muttered low, "I will go. I will 
 go. I have stayed too long." 
 
 " By the west door, if it pleases monsieur. It is 
 the only one open." 
 
 " The west door," the terrified creature muttered 
 as he left the old man putting out the last remaining 
 lights, and so made his way towards the exit indicated. 
 " By the west door. It must needs be that. It is the 
 nearest to the spot, and he will be there waiting for 
 me, the moonlight shining in his glittering eyes as he 
 beckons me to him, the glare of reproach in them. I 
 must go. I must go." 
 
 Down the long aisle he crept, shaking as with a 
 palsy as he went, starting and almost crying out again 
 as a bat flew by and brushed his hair with its wings, 
 going onward to what he dreaded to see, the phantom 
 of the murdered man which his distracted brain con- 
 jured up nightly. 
 
 " He will be there," he muttered again. " He will 
 be there." 
 
 He reached the great west door striking against 
 the bell ropes hanging in the tower, and gasping at 
 the contact and then paused at the wicket let into 
 the door, dreading to go out through it to meet the 
 ghostly figure that he knew awaited him. 
 
 Still, it must be done, and with another gasp, a
 
 212 DENOUNCED. 
 
 smothered groan, he stepped out through the wicket 
 into the shadow thrown by the cathedral wall, and 
 gazed upon the moon-illuminated spot where Douglas 
 had fallen dead. 
 
 And once more he smothered a shriek that rose to 
 his lips. 
 
 Standing above that spot, its back to him, but as he 
 could tell by the bent head, gazing down upon it, 
 there was the figure of a man a man still as death 
 itself ; a man bare-headed. 
 
 " You have come again," he hissed in terror. 
 " Again ! Again ! Mercy ! Mercy ! 
 
 Swiftly the figure turned and faced him its eyes 
 glistening in the moonlight as he had said and ad- 
 vanced towards him. 
 
 " Douglas ! " he screamed. " Douglas ! Mercy ! " 
 
 " No," the figure said. " No. Not Douglas. 
 Archibald."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AVENGED. 
 
 HE had fallen grovelling to the earth as that figure 
 turned its face towards him, and now he remained in 
 the same position. 
 
 As he did so Archibald Sholto knew for certain 
 that he had found his brother's murderer. In the 
 moment of witnessing that frenzied terror there had 
 flashed into his mind the knowledge of who had been 
 the wearer of the tiara with the one yellow-brown 
 diamond in it; the recognition of the dark head 
 streaked with grey with which his thoughts had been 
 filled for weeks, yet without certainty the head of 
 the murderer's late mother ! He knew all now. She 
 it was who had worn the diadem in the great cere- 
 monies he had taken part in; the rejoicings at the 
 peace of '38, the almost equally great rejoicings at the 
 death of the Emperor Charles, and many others. She, 
 Lady Fordingbridge, his mother, had worn it often ; 
 often had he observed the strange light emitted by 
 that blemished jewel; and now, from the tiara in 
 which it still remained, a ruby was missing, and had 
 been found on the spot where his brother had been 
 done to death. Therefore he knew that that brother's 
 assassin was before him. God had given him into his 
 
 hands. 
 
 213
 
 214 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 He bent forward over the crouching creature at 
 his feet ; in a low voice he said : 
 
 " So, I have found you, Simeon Larpent. Even 
 though you are armed to-night as you were on that 
 other night ; even though you bear about you the 
 weapon with which you slew him, you cannot escape 
 me." 
 
 "You can do nothing," the other said, turning up 
 an evil eye at him and then rising to his feet " noth- 
 ing! Your tongue is sealed. What I confessed was 
 under the sanctity of the confessional ; you dare tell 
 naught." 
 
 At once the Jesuit's clear mind grasped the facts 
 at once he perceived that the murderer had been 
 cleansing his soul before a confessor and thought 
 that he was that confessor. 
 
 " I told you all," Fordingbridge went on, "all, all. 
 And you absolved me, pardoned me, though the pun- 
 ishment you meted out to me was hard. Have you 
 not vengeance enough? To go forth a beggar and 
 an outcast to wander in savage lands until I die 
 surely, surely, that is enough. Let me go in peace." 
 
 "Not yet," Archibald Sholto answered; "not yet." 
 
 " Not yet ! " the other repeated. " Not yet ! What 
 more would you have ? All is told you know all 
 now. Shall I repeat what I said in there ? I slew him 
 here upon this spot because he would have warned 
 you and Elphinston that I was in France, and you 
 absolved me. It is enough." 
 
 " You slew him here upon this spot," the Jesuit 
 said, and he pointed with his finger to the place, " upon 
 this spot. You acknowledge it ?" 
 
 "Have I not said? You have absolved me." It 
 was strange how, from the repetition of this phrase,
 
 AVENGED. 2I f 
 
 he seemed to take comfort. " You have absolved 
 me." 
 
 "You are mistaken," the other said, while as he 
 spoke he drew nearer to the murderer, though keep- 
 ing ever a wary eye upon him. " Mistaken ! I have 
 heard no confession for a week." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Fordingbridge, springing back 
 a step or so, while now his eyes glared round the de- 
 serted cathedral place again like the eyes of some 
 hunted or trapped wild beast. " What ! It was not 
 you in there ? Not you ! " 
 
 " No. Not I. Simeon Larpent, you are doomed. 
 You divulged your crime under the seal of the con- 
 fessional in the cathedral ; you have divulged it openly 
 here with no such seal to protect you. Murderer ! 
 You are in my power ! " 
 
 As he spoke he saw the other do that which he had 
 been anticipating. He saw his hand steal to his 
 breast ; he knew that he was searching for some weap- 
 on concealed there. But he feared him not ; he, too, 
 was armed. Ever since he had sought for the assassin 
 he had carried about with him a small pistol, knowing 
 that if, by any strange chance, fortune should throw 
 him across the villain's path, such weapon might be 
 needed. To-night he had come out to gaze again on 
 the place where the deed had been done, never think- 
 ing, never dreaming, that there of all places on the 
 earth that murderer should be found, yet not neglect- 
 ing the precaution of being armed. Now that pre- 
 caution stood him in good stead. 
 
 " Draw no hidden weapon from your breast," he 
 said, as he saw the hand go to it ; " remember, I am 
 not as Douglas was, but am forewarned ; and if you 
 bring forth one, I will slay you here on the spot as you
 
 2i6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 slew him, and save the hangman his office," and as he 
 spoke he showed the other the little inlaid pistol, its 
 barrel glistening in the moon's rays. 
 
 " You know nothing," the other hissed at him now, 
 " nothing. I have told you nothing you have no wit- 
 nesses. My word is as good as yours, even if I let you 
 take me which I will not," he continued," which I will 
 not." 
 
 " No witnesses ? " said Archibald ; " no witnesses ? 
 Nay, look behind you. Look ! I say. No other wit- 
 ness is required." 
 
 Affrighted at his words thinking, perhaps, that the 
 terrible spectre that haunted him always now might be 
 standing menacingly behind him he glanced round, and 
 what he saw struck nearly as much horror to his crime- 
 laden brain as could have done the ghost of his victim. 
 
 Advancing from an open door by the side of the 
 cathedral there came a woman, her face white as any 
 ghost's or leper's, her eyes distended, her hand up- 
 lifted and pointing at him. Indeed, so appalling was 
 her ghastliness, the whiteness of her face being made 
 doubly so by the rays of the moon falling upon it, that 
 the dazed, stricken creature hid his own face in his 
 hands and recoiled as she advanced. 
 
 " It is he," she said. " It is he. Nightly almost he 
 comes when the moon is up. Seize on him, seize him ! 
 Let him never escape again," and still she pointed at 
 the man shivering between them. 
 
 " Fear not," Archibald said. " Fear not." Then 
 turning to Fordingbridge, while he held the pistol 
 pointed at him, he continued : " Come ! Resistance 
 is useless. I have sworn here, upon this spot, to 
 avenge Douglas ; I will keep my oath. Till you stand 
 upon the scaffold you are mine."
 
 AVENGED. 217 
 
 "He has a weapon to his hand," the woman said, 
 still with her own pointing at him as if it were the 
 hand of Fate. " See ! " Then, as though she were 
 one inspired, she said, as she turned to him, " Give me 
 the knife." 
 
 Whether his mind was gone at last, or whether fear 
 had so overcome Fordingbridge that he was no longer 
 master of his actions, Sholto was never able to decide. 
 Yet, from whichever cause it was, he obeyed his ghastly 
 denouncer in so far that, as she spoke to him, the dag- 
 ger dropped to the earth. And she, picking it up, 
 placed it in the priest's hands, saying : 
 
 " It is borne in on me that with this he slew that 
 other one. I feel it know it." 
 
 " You will testify that he is the murderer ? " Sholto 
 said. " You do not doubt ? " 
 
 " Doubt ! " she exclaimed, turning her wan, white 
 face on him. "Doubt! How should I doubt? He 
 has haunted me since that awful night haunted me, 
 almost driven me to my death. Oh, you know not ! 
 I have risen at night from my bed to see him stand- 
 ing there, muttering, grimacing over that very spot, so 
 that, as I gazed on him from out the darkness of my 
 room, I have swooned again as on that night I swooned. 
 Had I been a man, nay, had I had a man to call on, I 
 would have gone forth and seized him. Yet, when I 
 have told others that nightly, almost, the murderer 
 came and gloated over the space where he slew the 
 other, they derided me, said I was mad, would not 
 even watch themselves. Oh, the horror of it! the 
 horror of it ! " 
 
 " The horror is ended for you now, poor woman, 
 the priest said. " Never more will he affright your 
 sight when you rise from your bed. Yet do me one
 
 2i8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 service, I beg you. Put on some clothes, for the night 
 air gets cold " she had, indeed, come forth from her 
 room where she had again been watching in terror, 
 fearing to see another murder in little else than her 
 night raiment " and go fetch the watch. I will see 
 that he escapes not." 
 
 The woman went away at his request, and coming 
 out from the house, at which she was the concierge, 
 with a cloak thrown over her shoulders, sped down the 
 darkened streets, while once more the avenger and his 
 prey were left alone. But they spoke no more to one 
 another now ; only stood there silent, facing each 
 other. Yet once, after a few moments' pause, Ford- 
 ingbridge chuckled audibly and whispered to himself. 
 God only knows what was in the wretched man's mind 
 as he did so ; Archibald, at least, made no attempt to 
 discover. 
 
 For himself he was contented. Fate had thrown 
 into his hands the assassin of his beloved brother 
 that was enough. 
 
 Presently the woman came back, and with her three 
 of the watch, armed and with a lantern borne in the 
 hands of one, and into their custody the Jesuit gave 
 Fordingbridge. Yet, since he could not feel at ease 
 until he had seen the other safe under lock and key, he 
 accompanied them to the prison to which the guard- 
 house was attached and handed him over to the offi- 
 cials there. 
 
 "To-morrow," he said, "I will formally lay my 
 charge against him before the Procureur du Roi ; till 
 then, I pray you, keep him safe. He is the murderer 
 of the young Scotch officer who was slain outside 
 the cathedral, and was my brother, as all Amiens 
 knows."
 
 AVENGED. 2Ig 
 
 " Never fear, monsieur," said the chief of the watch ; 
 " we will keep him safe enough. Our cage is strong." 
 
 A few nights later than the one on which the mur- 
 derer, Fordingbridge, had been taken to the prison, 
 Bertie Elphinston, riding up to the northern gate of 
 Paris, demanded admission. It was a cold, raw night 
 this one of those October evenings common enough 
 to the north of France, when the moisture hangs like 
 rain-drops on every bush and bramble, and when the 
 rawness penetrates to the inside of man, making him 
 think of drams of brandy and Nantz as the best pre- 
 ventive of chill and cold. 
 
 He would not have ridden in to-night, would not 
 have left the comfortable fire in the officers' quarters 
 of the St. Denis Caserne to splash through six miles 
 of wet roads, only it was Thursday, the day on which 
 he invariably went to Paris, partly to pay his respects 
 to Charles Edward, partly to see his mother and Kate. 
 Also, if he did not come on Thursday there was no 
 other opportunity for him to do so for a week ; there 
 were only the officers of two troops quartered in the 
 old town, and but one night a week granted to each 
 for leave. Therefore he was loath to lose his turn, and 
 to go a whole fortnight without seeing the two crea- 
 tures dearest to him in the world. 
 
 " A rough, raw night," he said to the man at the 
 gate as he passed in, "a night better for indoor pleas- 
 ures than the streets. You have the best of it," glanc- 
 ing in at the bright fire in the man's room, "much the 
 best of it." 
 
 " Mais out, Monsieur le Capitaine" said the custodi- 
 anwho knew him very well following his glance as 
 it rested on the blazing hearth and his little girl play- 
 15
 
 220 DENOUNCED. 
 
 ing with a pup before it. "Mais oui." Then he said, 
 as Bertie stooped down to tighten the buckle of his 
 stirrup leather, "Was monsieur expecting, par hasard, 
 to meet anyone hereabouts to-night ? Any friend or 
 person with a message ? " 
 
 " No," replied Elphinston, partly in answer to his 
 question, partly in surprise. " No one. Why do you 
 ask ? " 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders in the true French 
 manner, then he said : 
 
 " Oh, for no serious reason but," and he paused 
 and then went on again : " There came yesterday an 
 unknown one to me who asked how often Monsieur le 
 Capitaine Elphinston rode into Paris. I knew not your 
 name then, monsieur, but his description was graphic, 
 very graphic, so that at once I knew he meant you. 
 Moreover, the other officers of monsieur's regiment 
 come not so regularly on any day, some come not 
 at all." 
 
 " 'Tis strange," Bertie said; "I know no one who 
 need ask for me in this mysterious manner, especially 
 as there is no mystery about me. My life is simple 
 and open enough, I should suppose. Six days a week 
 in garrison at St. Denis, one night a week in Paris ; 
 there is not much to hide." 
 
 " So I told the man, Monsieur le Capitaine ; not 
 much to hide. Voyez-vous, I said, here is the captain's 
 life so far as I know it. He rides in every Thursday 
 evening about six of the clock, leaves his horse, as I 
 have heard him say, at an inn in the Rue St. Louis, 
 sees his friends, sleeps at the inn, and rides out of 
 Paris again at six in the morning to his duties. Not 
 much mystery in that, mon ami? I said to him. Not 
 much mystery in that."
 
 AVENGED. 221 
 
 " And what did he say to you in return ? " asked 
 Bertie. 
 
 " Little enough. Remarked that he had made no 
 suggestion of mystery ; indeed, was not aware of any 
 reason for such ; only he desired to see you. Asked if 
 you wore your military dress, to which I answered ma 
 foil no. The uniform of the Regiment of Picardy 
 was too handsome, the cuirass too heavy for ordinary 
 wear, the gold lace too costly ; and that monsieur was 
 always well but soberly attired. Also that his horse, a 
 bright bay, was a pretty creature, as she is, as she is," 
 whereon he stroked the mare's muzzle affectionately, 
 for he himself was an old cavalryman and knew a good 
 horse when he saw one. 
 
 " Well," said Bertie with a laugh, " you have de- 
 scribed me accurately, so that my friend should know 
 me when he sees me. However, I must not linger 
 here. Good-night. Good-night, Bebe" to the child 
 playing with the dog, both of whom he, who loved 
 children and animals, had long since made acquaint- 
 ance with. 
 
 As he rode through the narrow streets towards the 
 inn where he always put up for the night, he reflected 
 that it might have been wise to ask the gate-keeper 
 for a description of the man who had been anxious to 
 obtain that of him ; but since he had -not done so there 
 was no help for it. Yet he could not dismiss from his 
 mind the fact of the unknown having inquired for him 
 and by name, too nor help wondering who on 
 earth he could be. He pondered over every friend he 
 could call to mind, old comrades in the French King's 
 service by whose side he had fought, or comrades in 
 the late English invasion ; yet his meditations natu- 
 rally amounted to nothing. The man might have been
 
 222 DENOUNCED. 
 
 one of them or none of them, and, whoever he was, no 
 amount of cogitation would reveal him. He must 
 wait and see what the mysterious inquirer might turn 
 out to be. 
 
 He rode into the inn he used in the Rue St. Louis, 
 put up his horse, and after personally seeing it at- 
 tended to for it had done duty before starting for 
 Paris went into the guests' room and made a slight 
 meal, after which he ordered a coach to be called to 
 take him to Passy, where his mother lived. 
 
 Later, when Bertie Elphinston had disappeared 
 from all human knowledge from that night, the search 
 that was made for him elucidated what had been his 
 movements and actions up to a certain point, after 
 which all clue was lost. What those movements were 
 have now to be told. 
 
 Quitting his mother after an hour's visit, he found 
 the same coach standing outside the auberge in the 
 street of the little suburb, and, again hiring it, pro- 
 ceeded to the mansion of Charles Edward, on the 
 Quai de Theatin to which he had removed from the 
 Chateau de St. Antoine, where he had resided for a 
 short time as the guest of Louis XV and here he 
 spent two more hours with his countrymen in attend- 
 ance on the prince, and with Kate. At this place he 
 had finally dismissed the coach, and as he left the 
 house an episode arose which recalled to his mind the 
 unknown person who had inquired for him at the 
 north gate. 
 
 As he descended the steps of the mansion he saw, 
 to his surprise, that, lurking opposite by the parapet 
 which separated the Quai from the river, was a man 
 who had been standing near him when he hired the 
 coach outside his inn on the other side of the Seine,
 
 AVENGED. 
 
 and who, still more strangely, had been standing out- 
 side the inn at Passy when he quitted his mother's 
 house. 
 
 That this man was following him was therefore 
 scarcely to be doubted, and, determined to see whether 
 such was the case, he crossed the road, stared under 
 his hat, which was drawn well down over his features, 
 and then walked slowly on towards the Pont Neuf. 
 Also, he took the precaution of loosening his sword in 
 its sheath. 
 
 If he had had any doubts which was not the case 
 they would soon have been resolved, since, as he 
 proceeded along the narrow footway by the parapet, 
 the man followed him at the same pace. Then, in- 
 stantly, Bertie stopped, faced around, and, walking 
 back half-a-dozen paces, said to him : 
 
 " Monsieur has business with me without doubt. 
 Be good enough to explain it," and now he lifted his 
 sword in its scabbard so that, while he held the sheath 
 in the left hand, his right grasped the handle. 
 
 I I " the man stammered. " Yes, Monsieur 
 
 Elphinston " 
 
 " Monsieur Elphinston ! so you know me ? " and a 
 light flashed on his mind. " Monsieur Elphinston. 
 Ha ! Perhaps it was you who inquired for me at the 
 north gate yesterday ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur," the man replied respectfully ; " it 
 was I who did so." 
 
 " Who are you, then ? What is your affair with 
 me that you track me thus?" 
 
 "I am servant to Carvel, the exempt. I have 
 orders to keep you in view." 
 
 "Servant to an exempt!* What, pray, has an 
 
 * A tipstaff, or executor of warrants for the Government.
 
 224 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 exempt to do with me ? " Bertie asked in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " That, monsieur," the man said, still very respect- 
 fully, " I cannot say. I but obey my orders, do my 
 duty. I received instructions that you were to be 
 kept under watch from the time you entered Paris, 
 and I am carrying them out must carry them out." 
 
 " Where is this exempt to be found, this man 
 Carvel ? We will have the matter regulated at once. 
 Where is he, I say ? " 
 
 " If monsieur would be so complaisant as to follow 
 me it is but across the Pont Neuf doubtless mon- 
 sieur will make everything clear." 
 
 " Lead on,"- Bertie said, "I will follow you, or, since 
 you may doubt me, will go first." 
 
 " If monsieur pleases." 
 
 At this period, and indeed for long afterwards, 
 Paris was too often the scene of terrible outrages com- 
 mitted on unprotected persons. Men sometimes 
 even women were inveigled into houses under one 
 pretence or another and robbed, oftentimes murdered 
 for whatever they might chance to have about them, 
 and, frequently, were never heard of again. That this 
 was the case Bertie knew perfectly well, yet even 
 after the mysterious murder of his friend at Amiens 
 he had not the slightest belief that anything of a simi- 
 lar nature was intended towards him. First, he was a 
 soldier and known by the man behind him to be one; 
 he was armed, although now dressed as a civilian, and 
 therefore a dangerous man to attack. And, next, none 
 who knew aught of him could suppose that it would 
 be worth while to endeavour to rob him. The Scots 
 officers serving in France were no fit game fo'r such as 
 got their living by preying on their fellow-creatures.
 
 AVENGED. 22 - 
 
 Still he could not but muse deeply on what could 
 possibly be the object of any exempt in subjecting him 
 to such espionage, while at the same time he hastened 
 his footsteps over the bridge so as at once to arrive at 
 a solution of the matter. 
 
 " Here is the bureau of Monsieur Carvel," said the 
 spy, as on reaching the northern side of the river he 
 directed his companion to a house almost facing the 
 approach to the bridge; "doubtless he will explain 
 all." 
 
 " Doubtless," replied Elphinston. " Summon him." 
 
 The door was opened an instant after the man had 
 rapped on it, and another man, plainly dressed and 
 evidently of the inferior orders, though of a re- 
 spectable type, admitted them to a room on the left- 
 hand side of the passage; a room on the walls of 
 which hung several weapons a blunderbuss, a mus- 
 quetoon or so, some swords which Bertie noticed 
 were mostly of fashionable make with parchment 
 labels attached to them and one or two pairs of 
 gyves, or fetters. Also, on the walls were some 
 roughly-printed descriptions of persons, in some cases 
 illustrated with equally rough wood-cuts. 
 
 " So ! " said the man, looking first at the spy and 
 then at Elphinston. " So ! Whom have we here ? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston," the other re- 
 plied. "Learning, Monsieur Carvel, your desire to 
 meet with him from me, he elected to visit you at 
 once." 
 
 " Tiens ! It will save much trouble. Monsieur le 
 Capitaine is extremely obliging." 
 
 " Sir," said Bertie sternly, " I am not here with the 
 intention of conferring any obligation upon you. I 
 wish to know why I, an officer of the King, serving in
 
 22 6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the Regiment of Picardy, am tracked and spied upon 
 by your follower, or servant. I wish a full explanation 
 of why I am subjected to this indignity." 
 
 " Monsieur, the explanation is very simple. An 
 order signed by the Vicomte d'Argenson has been 
 forwarded to me for your arrest, and with it a lettre 
 de cachet." 
 
 " A lettre de cachet ! " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur. A lettre de cachet, ordering me 
 to convey you to the Bastille." 
 
 " My God ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE BASTILLE. 
 
 " La Bastille ! oil toute personne, quels que soient son rang, son 
 age, son sexe, peut entrer sans savoir pourquoi, raster sans savoir 
 combien, en attendant d'en sortir sans savoir comment." SERVAN. 
 
 " ON what charge is that letter issued ? " asked 
 Elphinston a moment later, when he had recovered 
 somewhat from the stupefaction into which the ex- 
 empt's last words had thrown him. " On what charge ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," the man replied, " how can I answer 
 you ? Nay! who could do so ? Not even De Launey, 
 the Governor, could tell you that. These billets-doux 
 are none too explicit. They order us, the exempts, in 
 one letter to arrest ; the Governor, in another, to re- 
 ceive. But that is all. It is from the examiners, the 
 judges, from D'Argenson himself, wise child of a wise 
 father ! that you must seek an explanation." 
 
 " But there is no possible reason for it, no earthly 
 charge that can be brought against me. It must be a 
 mistake ! " 
 
 " So all say," the exempt exclaimed, repressing a 
 faint smile that rose to his features. " Yet, here is the 
 name, very clearly written," and he took from his 
 pocket the lettre de cachet, impressed with a great 
 stamp, and read from it : ' Elphinston. Scotch. 
 Capitaine du Regiment de Picardy. Troop Fifth, at 
 St. Denis.' That is you, monsieur ? " 
 
 227
 
 22 8 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Yes," Bertie said with a gasp. " It is I. No 
 doubt about that." 
 
 There rose before his mind, as he spoke, every 
 story, every legend he had ever heard in connection 
 with the Bastille. And although it is true that, in the 
 days when that fortress existed, it was not regarded 
 in so terrible a light as time and fiction have since 
 cast upon its memory, it still presented itself in a suffi- 
 ciently appalling aspect. Men undoubtedly went in 
 and came out after very short intervals of incarcera- 
 tion some doing so two or three times a year yet, 
 if all reports were true, there were some sent there 
 who never came out again. Moreover, few who were 
 committed could ever learn the reason whereof until 
 they were ultimately released, and no communication 
 whatever, except by stealth and great good fortune 
 could be made with the outer world. From the time 
 the gates closed on them they were lost to that outer 
 world for the period long or short which they 
 passed there. This knowledge alone, without the aid of 
 time and fiction, was, indeed, sufficient to make Elphin- 
 ston gasp. 
 
 " When," he asked, after another pause for reflec- 
 tion on the state in which he now found himself, "does 
 that lettre de cachet come into operation when do 
 you propose to put it into force ?" 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Carvel, with a swift glance at 
 him and another at the man standing behind, "it has 
 come into operation ; it is already in force." 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 " I mean that you have surrendered yourself with- 
 out having to be sought for without having to be 
 arrested. Please to consider it in that light, mon- 
 sieur."
 
 THE BASTILLE. 22Q 
 
 " To consider it in the light that I am to be con- 
 veyed to the Bastille from here at once?" 
 
 " If monsieur pleases. Though not at once not 
 this immediate instant. Monsieur de Launey prefers 
 to receive those who are sent to him at eight o'clock 
 in the morning. That is his hour of reception." 
 
 Again Bertie paused an instant, then said : 
 
 " In such case I may advise my friends of this de- 
 tention. It will ease their minds and it can be done 
 before eight o'clock. It is now scarcely midnight." 
 
 " I regret to have to say No, monsieur," and Bertie 
 started at his reply. " Such would be against all order, 
 all rule. From the moment the persons named in the 
 lettres de cachet are in our hands they can have no 
 further communication with their friends." 
 
 "What if I refuse to comply with your demands 
 with the demands of that lettre de cachet ? What then, 
 I say ? " 
 
 "Monsieur is here," the exempt replied, "that is 
 sufficient. It is too late for him now to retreat. We 
 are furnished with attendants for escorting to the Bas- 
 tille those who are arrested ; monsieur will perceive it 
 would be vain for him to contend against us. There 
 are at the present moment half-a-dozcn such attendants 
 in this house." 
 
 " So be it," said Bertie, " I will not contend. Some 
 absurd mistake has been made that will be rectified as 
 soon as I have seen the Governor." 
 
 " Sans doute" replied the exempt ; " meanwhile let 
 me suggest to monsieur that he should rest until it is 
 necessary to set out. He may yet have some hours of 
 refreshing sleep." 
 
 " I do not desire to sleep," Bertie said, " only to be 
 left alone. Is that impossible, too ?"
 
 230 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " By no means. We have a room here in which 
 monsieur may remain at his ease. But," and he pointed 
 to the labelled swords hanging on the walls, " it is our 
 habit to disembarrass all who are brought here of their 
 weapons. Those who are arrested at their own houses 
 or lodgings leave them in custody there. But mon- 
 sieur may rest assured of his weapon being quite safe. 
 If he comes out to-morrow or or or a month later, 
 say, it will be at his service." 
 
 " If," replied Bertie, taking off his diamond-cut ci- 
 vilian sword, " it had been the weapon of my profes- 
 sion, you should never have had it. As it is take it." 
 
 " Keep it carefully," said Carvel to his men, " until 
 Monsieur le Capitaine returns. I guarantee you 'twill 
 not be long ere he does so. I myself believe, monsieur, 
 a mistake has been made. 'Tis not with such metal 
 as you that Madame la Bastille is ordinarily stuffed." 
 
 After this, and on receiving Bertie's word of honour 
 that he had no other weapon of any kind, knife nor 
 pistol, about him, he was shown into a room at the back 
 of the house, where the exempt told him he would 
 be quite undisturbed a room the window of which, 
 he noticed, was cross-barred, and with, outside the 
 window, a high blank wall. Here he passed the night 
 in reflections of the most melancholy nature, wonder- 
 ing and wondering again and again on what unknown 
 possibility could have led to this new phase in his ex- 
 istence. At one moment so far afield did he have to 
 go to seek for some cause for his arrest he mused, if 
 by any chance Fordingbridge could have come to 
 Paris and, exercising some to him unknown influence, 
 have procured the lettre de cachet. Yet he was obliged 
 to discard this idea from his mind as he had discarded 
 others, when he reflected that nothing was more un-
 
 THE BASTILLE. 2 - r 
 
 likely than that the minister of the King would have 
 signed an order for the incarceration of one English- 
 man at the request of another. But, with this conjec- 
 ture dismissed, he had to content himself and remain 
 as much in the dark as before. 
 
 At seven o'clock the exempt came to him and told 
 him that it was time to set out. 
 
 "A coach is ready, monsieur," he said, " all is now 
 prepared. Would you desire to make any toilette be- 
 fore your departure ? " 
 
 Bertie said he would, and when he had done this, 
 laving his face and washing his hands in a basin 
 brought him by two of Carvel's attendants, he an- 
 nounced that he was prepared to accompany him. 
 
 " Perhaps when I have seen the Governor of the 
 Bastille," he said, "I shall better understand why I 
 am confided to his keeping." 
 
 To which once more the other replied, " Sans doute." 
 Everything being therefore ready, Carvel and El- 
 phinston entered the coach, while, of four men who 
 had appeared on the scene that morning, two went in- 
 side with them, and the others, mounting horses, rode 
 on either side of the vehicle. In this way they pro- 
 gressed through the small portion of the city necessary 
 to be traversed, arriving at the fortress exactly as the 
 great clock over the doorway decorated with a bas 
 relief representing two slaves manacled together 
 struck eight. That their destination was apparent to 
 those members of the populace by whom they passed 
 it was easy to perceive. Women and men, hurrying 
 to their shops and places of business, regarded the 
 party with glances which plainly showed that they 
 knew whither they were going, the former doing so 
 with terrified and uneasy looks, the latter according
 
 232 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 to their disposition. Of these, some laughed and made 
 jeering allusions to the morning ride which the gentle- 
 man was taking; some frowned with disapproval ; and 
 some there were who muttered to one another, " How 
 long? How long shall we groan under the tyranny of 
 our masters?" while others answered, "Not for ever ! 
 It cannot be for ever, though the good God alone 
 knows when the end will come. Perhaps not even in 
 our day ! " 
 
 " Descend, monsieur," said the exempt, as the 
 coach drew up; then, turning to some sentinels within 
 the gate which opened to receive them, he remarked, 
 ' Couvrez-vous, messieurs." 
 
 Surprised at this order, which Bertie did not under- 
 stand, he glanced at the soldiers standing about and 
 observed that, as he approached them, they removed 
 their hats from their heads and placed them before 
 their faces until he had passed by, so that they could 
 by no means have seen what his appearance was like. 
 And to the inquiring look which he directed to his 
 captain, the exempt replied, with a slight laugh : 
 
 " Madame la Bastille endeavours ever to be a polite 
 hostess. She thinks it not well that these fellows, 
 who are^not always in her service, should be able after- 
 wards to recognise her guests when they have quitted 
 her hospitable roof. Vraiment ! her manners are of 
 the most finished. Come, Monsieur Elphinston, Jour- 
 dan de Launey attends us.* He rises ever at seven, 
 so as to welcome those who arrive early. Come, I 
 beg." 
 
 * Governor of the Bastille from 1718 to 1749, and father of the 
 last governor of that prison, Le Marquis Bernard Rene Jourdan de 
 Launey, who was brutally murdered by the populace on the fall of 
 the Bastille in 1789.
 
 THE BASTILLE. 233 
 
 Following, therefore, his guide, and followed by 
 the men who had escorted them, Bertie crossed a 
 drawbridge and a courtyard, and then arrived at a 
 flight of stone stairs let into the wall, at which was 
 stationed an officer handsomely dressed, who, on see- 
 ing Elphinston, bowed politely to him and requested 
 that he would do him the honour to accompany him to 
 the Governor. Then, turning round on the exempt's 
 followers who came behind them, he said in a very 
 different tone: 
 
 " Stay where you are. Do you suppose we require 
 your services to welcome the arrivals ? And for you, 
 Monsieur 1'Exempt, we will rejoin you later." Whereon 
 he opened a small door off the staircase and led Bertie 
 into a room. 
 
 A room which astonished the young man as he 
 stepped into it ; for, although he had often talked with 
 people in Paris who had been imprisoned in the Bas- 
 tille, and had heard that some parts of it were sumptu- 
 ously furnished, he had not imagined that even the 
 Governor possessed such an apartment as this. It 
 was, indeed, so large as to be almost a hall, though 
 the gorgeous hangings of yellow damask fringed with 
 silver and with lace made it look smaller, while at the 
 same time they imparted a brilliancy to the vastness 
 of the room ; and some cabinets, bureaux, aud couches 
 distributed about also served to give it a comfortable 
 appearance. In front of a blazing fire so great, in- 
 deed, that the wonder was that any mortal could ap- 
 proach near it there stood, warming his hands, the 
 Governor, De Launey himself, while seated close by 
 at a table covered with papers was a miserable-look- 
 ing person who was engaged in writing. 
 
 No man, possibly, ever presented a greater con-
 
 234 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 trast between his own appearance and the dreaded 
 position which he occupied than did Jourdan de 
 Launey, then an old man approaching his end. He 
 was very thin and very bald, with beady black eyes 
 and a rosy face which gave him the appearance of ex- 
 treme good humour, while that which rivetted the at- 
 tention of everyone who saw him for the first time 
 was the extraordinary shaking, or palsy, that possessed 
 him always. Even now, as he stood before the huge, 
 roaring fire, holding out the palms of his hands to it 
 and lifting first one foot and then another to its 
 warmth, he shook and shivered so that he seemed as 
 though dying of cold. 
 
 To him the handsomely apparelled officer whom 
 Bertie soon learned bore the rank of the " King's Lieu- 
 tenant of his Majesty's fortress of the Bastille " ad- 
 dressed himself, saying that the Captain Elphinston 
 had arrived; whereon De Launey turned his back to 
 the fire, regarded Bertie for a moment, and then held 
 out a long, white, shivering hand, which the other, as he 
 took it, thought might well have belonged to a corpse. 
 
 " Sir," he said, in a voice of extreme sweetness, 
 though somewhat shaken by his tremblings, " you are 
 very welcome, though I fear this abode may scarcely 
 be so to you. Yet I beg of you to believe that what 
 can be done to put you at your ease and make you 
 comfortable shall be done. Moreover, permit me to 
 tell you that which I tell all my visitors who are not 
 of the lower classes, nor murderers and ruffians, who 
 need not to be considered, that your visit here by no 
 means brings with it a loss of self-respect or of social 
 position. The Bastille is not a prison, as the canaille 
 think; is not Bicetre nor even Vincennes; it is a place 
 where gentlemen are simply detained at the pleasure
 
 THE BASTILLE. 235 
 
 of his Majesty, and when they go forth they go un- 
 stained. If you will remember that, Monsieur le 
 Capitaine," he continued with increased sweetness of 
 voice, " you will, I think, repine less at our hospi- 
 tality." 
 
 Bertie bowed, as, indeed, he could not but do to 
 such extreme politeness, no matter how much he re- 
 sented his incarceration, then he said: 
 
 " Sir, I am obliged to you for your civility. Yet, 
 monsieur, if you would add to it by telling me with 
 what I am charged and why I am brought here at all, 
 you would greatly increase my obligation." 
 
 " Monsieur le Capitaine," replied the Governor, " I 
 regret to refuse but it is impossible. That you can- 
 not know until you appear before the Lieutenant of 
 the Civil Government, or Examiner, who comes here 
 at periods to examine our visitors. Then, by the ques- 
 tions he will ask, you will undoubtedly be able to sur- 
 mise with what you are charged." 
 
 "And when will he come, monsieur?" 
 
 " I know," he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders 
 which so blended into one of his shivers that it was 
 almost imperceptible, " no more than you do. He 
 comes when it pleases him, or, perhaps, I might more 
 truthfully say, when he has time, and then he interro- 
 gates those whom, also, it pleases him. Sometimes it 
 is our latest guest" De Launey never by any chance 
 used the word " prisoner" " sometimes those who 
 have been here for years. And some there are who 
 have been here for many but no matter ! " Then, 
 turning to the King's Lieutenant, he bade that officer 
 give him Captain Elphinston's mittimus, or the stamped 
 letter containing the order for his reception and se- 
 curity. 
 
 16
 
 236 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 This letter he read carefully, during which time it 
 shook so in his palsied hands that Bertie could not but 
 wonder how he could distinguish the characters in it; 
 after which he looked up with his good-humoured 
 smile and said : 
 
 " Sir, I felicitate you. You are of the first class of 
 guests; beyond restriction you will have little to com- 
 plain of. The King" and he raised his tottering white 
 hand to his forehead as though saluting that monarch 
 in person " is, you know, your host ; your pension 
 will be of the best. Secretary," he said, turning round 
 sharply to the man at the table, " read to the captain 
 the bill of fare for the principal guests." 
 
 This man, who seemed, at least, to derive no great 
 good from his position, seeing that he was miserably 
 clad in an old suit of ragged Nismes serge, a pair of 
 old blue breeches loose at the knees, and a wig which 
 had scarcely any hair left on it, began to read from a 
 paper, when, to Bertie's astonishment, a very different 
 voice from the soft tones he had recently been listen- 
 ing to issued from the Governor's lips; and in a harsh, 
 commanding way De Launey exclaimed : 
 
 " Fellow, stand up before gentlemen ! Mort de ma 
 vie ! do you dare to sit and read before us ?" Whereon 
 the wretched creature sprang up as though under the 
 lash, and began hastily to gabble out : 
 
 " Dejeuner ct lafourchette. Potage. A quarter of a 
 fowl or a slice of ox beef. A pie, a sheep's tongue or 
 a ragout, biscuits, and rennets. A quarter septier of 
 wine, to suffice also for dinner and supper. Dinner : 
 A loaf, soup, petite pate's, roast veal or mutton, pigeon 
 or pullet, or beef and toasted bread. Supper: A fish 
 of the season, or a bird and a chipped loaf. By order 
 of the King, to the extent of 150 sols a day."
 
 THE BASTILLE. 
 
 As he read from his paper to which the visitor 
 paid but little attention, since he cared nothing about 
 the meals he might receive De Launey nodded and 
 wagged his head with approbation, and, when he fin- 
 ished, exclaimed : 
 
 "A noble King! Fellow," to the secretary, "be- 
 gone ! Go seek the turnkey, Bluet, and bid him pre- 
 pare for Monsieur le Capitaine the second chamber of 
 the chapeli" 
 
 " The second chamber of the chapel ! The best 
 apartment ! " 
 
 "Man Dieu ! " exclaimed De Launey, while he 
 shook terribly, " do my infirmities render me unin- 
 telligible? Ay, the second chamber; and for you, if 
 ever you misunderstand me again, the vault under the 
 ditch where the malefactors lie!" Then, putting out 
 his long, white, trembling hand while all the time he 
 smiled blandly he nipped the man's arm between 
 two fingers and repeated, "Where the malefactors lie! 
 Where the man was eaten alive by rats ! Tu comp rends, 
 chcr ami? - Go. The second chamber in the chapel 
 for Monsieur le Capitaine. Va!" 
 
 The man left the room quickly, casting a glance, 
 half of terror and half of hate, on De Launey, who, 
 after regarding him till he was gone, turned round to 
 Elphinston with his pleasant smile, and said, "A vile 
 wretch that. Yet a useful one, and bound to me by 
 the deepest ties of gratitude. Sent here by the Jesuits 
 some years ago. Ha! ha! The holy fathers know 
 how to obtain the lettres de cachet ! for an unspeakable 
 crime the corruption of a nun to Protestantism, 
 saved his life by telling them that he was the man 
 who had been eaten by the rats, though 'twas another. 
 Thus I bound him to me for ever. He writes a most
 
 238 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 beautiful hand, knows the history of every man in the 
 Bastille, and ha ! ha ! draws no recompense. The 
 Inquisition injured my family once they burnt an aunt 
 of mine in Seville therefore Hove to thwart them." 
 
 Bertie inclined his head to show that he heard the 
 Governor's words; then the latter continued in his 
 mellifluous strains : 
 
 " Now, Captain Elphinston, I must tell you that 
 you should try and make yourself as comfortable as 
 possible here. Above all, do not dream of an escape. 
 Many have done so ; few have succeeded the Abbe" 
 du Bacquoy alone of late years.* For the walls are 
 thick oh, so thick ! between each room there is a 
 space of many feet the windows are barred ; so, too, 
 are the fireplaces ; the ceilings cannot be reached by 
 two men standing one on the other's shoulders. 
 Moreover, a visitor seen outside his window, or on the 
 roofs or walls, could not escape the eyes of the sen- 
 tries, and would be shot poof ! like a sparrow. 
 Monsieur, let me beg you, therefore, to content your- 
 self with our hospitality. Later on if you are not 
 recalled we will perhaps give you some companions; 
 we wish our guests to have the enjoyment of society. 
 Monsieur le Capitaine, here is Bluet, who will conduct 
 you to your apartment. Au revoir. I trust sincerely 
 you will be at your ease." 
 
 Again the ice-cold, shivering hand clasped that of 
 Elphinston, De Launey bowed to him with as much 
 grace as though he were taking part in a minuet, and, 
 following the turnkey, who had come in with the secre- 
 tary, the prisoner went forth to his chamber. 
 
 Descending the stairs and out by the small door in 
 
 * Latucle's successful escape was made some years after the date 
 of this narrative viz., in 1750.
 
 THE BASTILLE. 
 
 239 
 
 the wall, he passed again through the Corps de Garde, 
 all the members of which once more instantly took off 
 their hats and held them before their faces. Then he 
 was led across a great court and in at a square door 
 painted green, and so up three small steps on to a 
 great staircase, at the bottom of which were two huge 
 iron doors that clanged with an ominous sound be- 
 hind him. At the head of this staircase were three 
 more gates, one after the other wooden gates cov- 
 ered with iron plates and when these were locked 
 behind Elphinston also, another iron-bound door was 
 opened, and he stood within a great vaulted room, 
 some sixty feet long and about fifteen in breadth, and 
 the same in height. 
 
 "Voila!" exclaimed the secretary, "behold the 
 second room of the chapel. Mon Dieu ! a fine apart- 
 ment for an untitled guest ! But the old animal will 
 have his way. Yet, why this room of princes ? 'Twas 
 here the man with the iron mask died, they say ; here 
 that the Duke of Luxembourg and the Marshals de 
 Biron and Bassompiere once reposed." 
 
 "At least," said Bertie, casting his eyes round the 
 vault for such it was " I trust there was more ac- 
 commodation for those illustrious personages than 
 there appears for me. Am I to sleep on the floor, and 
 lie on it also in the day ? There is neither bed nor 
 chair here." 
 
 " All in good time, brave captain," replied Bluet, 
 the turnkey, who even at this early period of the 
 morning appeared to be half drunk "all in good time, 
 noble captain. I shall make your room a fitting bou- 
 doir for a duchess ere night. Have no fear." 
 
 " Now," said the secretary, " give up all you have 
 about you."
 
 240 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " What ! " 
 
 " All, everything," replied the other. " Oh, be 
 under no apprehension ; we do not rob the King's 
 guests ; oh, no ! Every visitor to this delectable cas- 
 tle has to do the same, even though he be a prince of 
 the blood. I shall give you a note for what you hand 
 me, and on your sortie you will see all is as you handed 
 to me. Yet the old cochon, De Launey, loveth trinkets 
 for his wife young enough to be his daughter ; if you 
 have a ring or a jewel, you can part with it ; it will be 
 to your advantage." 
 
 " Friend," said Elphinston, " I am a soldier who 
 has fought in hard wars, sometimes without even re- 
 ceiving a sol of any pay as in the last campaign in 
 Scotland what should I have ? See, I have no rings 
 on my fingers, no watch to my pocket, no solitaire to 
 my cravat. Yet, here is my purse with a few Louis 
 d'ors and one gold quadruple pistole; count those, if 
 you will," and he pitched it into the secretary's ragged 
 hat as he spoke. 
 
 The man told over the coins, muttering that the 
 large piece was bien forte et trebuchante, then made an 
 accurate note of them and gave the list to Bertie. 
 "All," he said again, "will be returned you on your 
 exit, unless you choose to give them to Bluet and me. 
 We get little enough, though God knows we have also 
 little enough at least, I have of opportunities for 
 spending. Yet even here one may have his little 
 pleasures," and he winked at Bertie, who turned from 
 him in disgust. 
 
 " No trinkets on the bosom," he went on ques- 
 tioningly, " no lockets, nor crosses, nor reliquaries of 
 saints ? Humph ! " 
 
 " There is," replied Elphinston, " on my breast a
 
 THE BASTILLE. 241 
 
 bag of satin, in which is a lock of hair the hair of the 
 woman whom I love. Fellow, do you think I will let 
 you take that, or even fasten your foul eyes on it ! 
 Ask me no more ; otherwise 1 will speak to the Gov- 
 ernor." 
 
 "It is against the rules," said the other, "quite 
 against the rules, yet " 
 
 " Curse the rules ! " 
 
 " Yet," he said, " so that when you leave us you 
 will give me one, only one of those pieces, I will not 
 insist." 
 
 " Leave me," said Bertie, and his voice was so stern 
 that, followed by the turnkey, the man slunk out of 
 the room, and a moment afterwards the heavy door 
 was locked and barred on him.
 
 CHAPTER XXIJ. 
 
 DESPAIR ! 
 
 LEFT alone at last, he walked up and down the 
 huge chamber, or vault, his mind full of melancholy, 
 heart-broken reflections. 
 
 " My God, my God ! " he muttered, " what have I 
 done that thus Thou lettest Thy hand fall so heavily 
 on me ? What fresh sin committed, that this fresh 
 punishment should be mine ! I have lost the one 
 thing I cared for in this life, lost her ; now I am incar- 
 cerated here in this place of horror, this place where 
 men's existences, even their very names, are forgotten 
 as much as though they had lain for years in their 
 graves; this place which may be my grave." Then, a 
 few moments later, his heart and courage returned to 
 him, and he murmured to himself again : 
 
 "Yet, I will not repine. That abject creature 
 spoke of others who had been here and yet escaped, 
 obtained their liberty, all but him, the hapless Masque 
 de Fer, who drew his last breath in this gloomy dun- 
 geon. Bassompiere, Luxembourg, De Biron, all went 
 forth to the world again. How many men have I not 
 known myself who have been here ? There was one, 
 the old Comte de Tilly, who told me he had been in- 
 carcerated thirteen times, and that, whenever he saw 
 the exempts in the street, he took off his hat to them, 
 
 242
 
 DESPAIR ! 
 
 243 
 
 and asked if by any chance they happened to be seek- 
 ing for him. And these walls," he exclaimed, looking 
 up at the blackened sides of the room, " seem to bear 
 testimony to many who have inhabited the place." 
 
 They did, indeed ; for, written all over the grimy 
 and smoky sides of the vault, were records left by 
 those who had been incarcerated. In one part of 
 the room near the barred fireplace, through which 
 a child could not have crept, were the words : 
 " The widow Lailly and her daughter were brought 
 into this hell on the 27th September, 1701 " ; in another 
 place was the name of a Neapolitan prince, one De 
 Riccia, with his remarkable motto beneath it, " Empoi- 
 sona ove Strangola." And there were scores of other 
 names, of all countries : one, that of the Chevalier 
 Lynch, gentleman, of Sligo in Ireland; another, Jean 
 Cronier, redacteur, " Du Burlesk Gazette," Holland ; 
 a third, Magdalen de St. Michel, while in a different 
 hand underneath was written, " who slew her husband, 
 a King's sailor;" yet another, "the Cure de Mery, 
 falsely accused of rioting and drunkenness"; and 
 many more. And, still continuing his sad patrol of 
 the room, he saw that at each corner of it were statues 
 of the four Evangelists, so that he understood now 
 why it should be called the " Room of the Chapel," 
 though why the " second room " he never learned. 
 
 "So," he said, as he mused in his misery, "so this 
 place has been holy ground, consecrated. Heavens ! 
 was ever a place of prayer turned to such vile use 
 since the Temple became a den of thieves ?" 
 
 As thus he pondered he heard the doors outside 
 clanging, and a moment afterwards, the unbarring of 
 the chapel door and the harsh grating of the key in 
 the lock, a sound which was followed by the entrance
 
 244 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 of the turnkey, Bluet who appeared now more drunk 
 than before and another man, also a turnkey. 
 
 " Ha ! " said the former with a hiccough, " now to 
 arrange the boudoir. Georges, disgorge thy burden 
 and be gone. I have alone to do with Monsieur le 
 Capitaine," and, as he spoke, he reeled across the room 
 with a small folding table he had brought with him 
 and placed it under the barred and latticed window, 
 where the light streamed on it. Meanwhile, the other 
 turnkey, Georges, had thrown down a huge bundle of 
 what was evidently bedding, and departed, to return 
 again a few moments later, with a tray, on which were 
 several dishes. 
 
 " Voilb ! " Bluet muttered as he arranged the table, 
 " behold your first meal as guest of Madame la Bastille. 
 A soup of lentils ban! bon! some cockscombs in 
 vinegar pas mal (a! some chip bread, beef full of 
 gravy, with a garniture of parsley. Also the quarter 
 septier of wine and good, too, you see, of Bourgogne. 
 Now for more furniture to accommodate our new 
 guest." Whereon he reeled off to the passage and 
 brought back a sound wooden chair, which he placed 
 by the table, exclaiming, " Voila! monsieur est servir." 
 
 Seeing that the fellow, in spite of his drunkenness, 
 was doing his best to treat him well, and reflecting 
 also that much of any comfort he was li'kely to obtain 
 might depend on him, Bertie resolved to make a friend 
 of Bluet if possible ; so, sitting down to the meal, he 
 made a semblance of eating it ; and as he did so he 
 said : 
 
 " If I did not perceive that already you have been 
 making free enough with the drink, I would ask you 
 to join me. This great jar," touching the quarter 
 septier, which contained half a gallon at least, "is
 
 DESPAIR ! 2 ,t 
 
 more than I can consume in a week, yet you, I judge, 
 could drink it all at a sitting." 
 
 " Facilement. I often do. And the wine is of the 
 best. When St. Mars was governor here, he robbed 
 the visitors, they say ; took the King's money for 
 the best and gave the worst. De Launey, now, is 
 different." 
 
 " He is more generous, then ? " 
 
 " Nay, more timorous. For, observe, he fears the 
 King should find out he is being hoodwinked. Yet, 
 all do not drink nor eat alike here. Some get only a 
 cliopine of the thinnest, one plat to each meal, coarse 
 bread, and no fruit. It depends on the degree of the 
 personage, also the probability of the length of his 
 visit. Because, you see, Monsieur le Capitaine, some 
 seem never likely to depart and there are many such, 
 I assure you, who become forgotten ; there is no hope 
 they will ever go forth ; they have no money to give 
 away in fees for if a visitor wishes to reward us for 
 our little cares, he may make an order on De Lau- 
 ney to distribute some of the money he holds ; they 
 become the guest who has outstayed his welcome. You 
 understand, monsieur ? " 
 
 He spoke with an air of drunken gravity, and, 
 although in drink, showed so much intelligence that 
 Bertie guessed this was the man's normal condition. 
 Also, the latter observed that the state he was in by 
 no means prevented him from being able to fulfil any 
 duty he had to perform. Indeed, during the time he 
 had been enlightening Bertie as to the customs of the 
 Bastille, he had been arranging in a corner of the room 
 some furniture the other man had come back with, as 
 well as that which he had originally brought. Thus he 
 had fitted up a little truckle bedstead in one of the
 
 246 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 corners near the fireplace and under the statue of St. 
 Matthew which stood in the wall above, a bedstead 
 which had some curtains of dirty flowered stuff, with a 
 bag of straw for a mattress, and also a blanket as 
 dirty as the curtains, and full of holes, and a quilt of 
 flock. Likewise he had brought in a great pitcher of 
 water, a ewer and mug, all of which were of pewter. 
 
 " Avec fa," he said, regarding these things with a 
 look of satisfaction, " monsieur is well provided. Oh, 
 well provided ! Now for this you must pay six livres 
 a month none of which comes to me, alas ! and if 
 you wish more it can be hired. Yet, faith ! it is a 
 chamber for a King. Shall I send for a fagot and 
 make a fire to purge the air of the room ? " 
 
 " Nay," said poor Bertie, " it is very well. Yet I 
 would that the chamber was not so vast ; it is large, 
 and draughty, and dark. Can I not be removed into 
 a better one at least, a smaller one ? " 
 
 " That will come if you remain with us. Length- 
 ened sojourns are not made in this one. So you may 
 content yourself with this, namely, while you are here 
 in this apartment you may go out at any moment. 
 Now, I have other guests to see to ; I will return later 
 with the dinner. Adieu, monsieur," and he went away, 
 banging, and locking, and barring the heavy door be- 
 hind him. 
 
 Through the glazed window above, which had two 
 great shutters to it that were always closed, but had 
 an iron gate or smaller window within them, while 
 outside was a green wooden lattice, Bertie could see 
 that the sun was shining ; nay, a ray or so even forced 
 its way through the iron gate and illuminated a foot's 
 breadth all along the dungeon, or room. In one way 
 it was, perhaps, not very welcome, for it showed plainly
 
 DESPAIR ! 247 
 
 the filthy condition of the floor, all incrusted with 
 dirt as it was, and with other refuse, such as small 
 meat-bones, fish-bones, egg-shells, and pieces of bread- 
 crust trodden into it. Yet, also, to his sad heart it 
 brought some comfort ; it spoke to him of the world 
 without, of the gay streets and gardens of Paris; of 
 her, his love. What was she doing now, he pondered ; 
 would she soon be wondering what had become of him, 
 and why, as once before so long, so long ago, as now 
 it seemed he had again disappeared from her and 
 made no sign ? Or would he be free before Thursday 
 came again ? 
 
 He thought, looking round the gloomy chapel, 
 while he considered and mused on these things, that 
 his head might reach that little iron gate, or grille, in 
 the shutters if he placed upon the table the chair and 
 then stood on that, and thus he would be able to ob- 
 tain a sight of what was outside. So he set to work 
 to place them in position, and then, on clambering up, 
 found that he could obtain a view of the garden of 
 the Bastille, and, owing to a low-roofed portion of the 
 fortress almost immediately in front of him, of away 
 beyond into the city. 
 
 In the garden he perceived a lady walking, accom- 
 panied by a dog that seemed from its action to be 
 very old, for it moved slowly and feebly without any 
 gambols; and he wondered who she was, and if she 
 might be De Launey's wife, who was " young enough 
 to be his daughter." The garden itself, he could also 
 perceive, since the chapel was no higher than the first 
 floor, formed the interior, or courtyard, of all 
 towers of the prison, and he saw that, by glancing u 
 wards, the windows of other rooms, or cells, were vis 
 ble to him. Indeed, not only were they visible, but so
 
 248 DENOUNCED. 
 
 also was one of the inmates, who, as Bertie observed 
 him, was leaning against his little window frame with 
 his face at the bars as though to catch the air. He 
 was a man somewhat over middle age, with scowling 
 features and long, unkempt hair, and as Bertie re- 
 garded him he saw his lips moving as though either he 
 was talking to some fellow-prisoner within the room 
 or muttering to himself. This man fascinated Elphin- 
 ston so that he could not remove his eyes from off him 
 for in those other eyes there seemed to be a hell of 
 despair and, as he thus looked, the man, shifting his 
 gaze, glanced down and across, and so saw him at his 
 lattice. For a moment he stared at Bertie and then 
 made a motion to him with his finger it seemed as 
 though to bid him stay where he was and then dis- 
 appeared from the window to return a moment later 
 with a little piece of light board in one hand to which 
 he pointed with the other. 
 
 Made more curious than ever by this, Elphinston 
 continued to regard him and his actions fixedly, which 
 were as follows : First the man held up in his right 
 hand his left still grasping the board something 
 that appeared like a piece of burnt wood, and then, 
 applying it to the board, drew on it the letter N. 
 Pointing to it, he next drew the letters O, U, and V, 
 then E, then A, then another U, until at last he had 
 spelt out the whole of the word Nouveau. Next, after 
 a glance across at Bertie, as though to ask if he under- 
 stood, and seeing that he did, he again went on with 
 four more letters, making the word Venu, and care- 
 fully finishing the sentence by drawing, last of all, a 
 solitary note of interrogation, and looking over to 
 Bertie as though awaiting his reply to the question. 
 Receiving from him two or three emphatic nods of the
 
 DESPAIR ! 
 
 head, he began again, and this time produced a longer 
 sentence, which, by recollecting each word as it had 
 been found, Bertie made out to be (in French, of 
 course), " I have been here twenty-one years." 
 
 At this melancholy information he tried to throw 
 into his features for no action of his body could be 
 at all apparent to the man as much sympathy as was 
 possible, whereon the other again pointed to his board 
 and continued with his letters until he had formed the 
 sentence, " Have you been before the Judges?" and 
 receiving a negative shake from Bertie's head, again 
 worked out, "Nor I, yet" and waited as though to see 
 what effect this stupendous piece of information might 
 have on a newly-arrived prisoner. 
 
 If the unhappy man desired to see horror depicted 
 on that newcomer's face if such a sight could be 
 gratifying to him who had lived forgotten there so 
 long, without, perhaps, even knowing why he was so 
 detained, he must indeed have been gratified. For as 
 that terrible sentence came out letter by letter on the 
 board, Bertie shrank back from the lattice, while his 
 countenance must plainly have shown to the other the 
 emotions of pity mixed with dread and dismay with 
 which the communication had filled him. "Twenty- 
 one years," he muttered to himself, forgetting even 
 for the moment his new-found acquaintance opposite, 
 " twenty-one years without knowing what he is charged 
 with ; without hope. My God! what has his life been 
 during that time ; waiting, waiting always ! And it 
 may be so with me," he thought, shuddering as he did 
 so, " it may be my case. I am twenty-six years old 
 now ; at forty-seven I may still be in this prison, un- 
 tried, uncondemned, yet unreleased no nearer to my 
 freedom than now." And again he shuddered.
 
 250 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 He glanced over to the unhappy prisoner in the 
 opposite tower as he finished these reflections, and 
 saw that he was waiting for his attention to begin his 
 letters again. And, once more fascinated by their 
 terrible revelations, he watched eagerly as the next 
 sentence was formed. 
 
 Slowly the words were composed, letter by letter; 
 slowly they met his eyes, and seemed to numb his brain 
 and strike a chill to his heart. "I am not the worst 
 case," the prisoner spelt out. " Above you in the 
 Tour de la Bertaudiere is one who has been here for 
 forty-two years. Untried still ! " Then, with a wave 
 of his hand, the man vanished from his window per- 
 haps because he heard the gaoler coming into his 
 room and Bertie saw him no more that day. 
 
 Yet that which he had gleaned from his opposite 
 neighbour was enough to furnish him with sufficient 
 food for miserable reflections all through the re- 
 mainder of the day, and far into the night when he 
 lay sleepless on his unclean bed. Bluet had visited 
 him twice during that period, bringing him two more 
 meals each good enough in its way, and with 
 different meats at each, but badly cooked ; and on the 
 second occasion, and when he could perceive through 
 the lattice that night was coming on, the turnkey had 
 offered to let him have some light if he wished it. 
 High up above the latticed window there was an iron 
 socket into which a candle could be fitted, or on to 
 which a lamp might be swung, and Bluet had volun- 
 teered to bring in a ladder and place the light there if 
 Elphinston desired it. But he replied, "No, he wanted 
 nothing. He would try to sleep till daybreak, try to 
 rest. The day had been long enough for him al- 
 ready."
 
 DESPAIR! 2 e r 
 
 "Ma foil sansdoute!" the fellow replied, he seem- 
 ing neither more nor less drunk than he had been at 
 nine o'clock in the morning. " Sans doute, monsieur is 
 fatigued, yet he must not lose heart. If the judges 
 do not release him ere long, he shall be moved to 
 another chamber where, perhaps, he will have some 
 society. There is plenty here. Of all sorts. Then 
 monsieur will be gay." 
 
 " Gay ! " exclaimed Bertie. " Gay ! In this 
 place ? " 
 
 " And why not ? Oh, figure to yourself, there is 
 gaiety here and to suffice. Hark now to that ! Hark, 
 I say ! " and at the moment he spoke Bertie heard a 
 voice in his own tongue trolling forth a drinking song. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed the turnkey, " it 
 is the gallant captain. Also a captain like monsieur, 
 but of the road. They say he stopped the Cardinal's 
 carriage at Fontainebleau not so long ago, yet this he 
 denies. And a spy, too, of England, they say. He 
 plays the big game. Mon Dieu ! listen ! he sings well, 
 though I understand no word of your somewhat severe 
 and sombre tongue." 
 
 Severe and sombre though it might be, it did not 
 sound so as the gallant captain shouted forth his 
 drinking song. 
 
 " He's gay," said Bluet ; " he has found a new com- 
 panion one, however, who will scarce join in his 
 mirth. A miserable creature sent in by the priests, a 
 murderer, they hint. Mon Dieu ! either he will deso- 
 late the captain or the captain will drive him mad with 
 his carousings." 
 
 After which, and having wished Bertie " a good-night 
 and good repose," he took himself off, and, ere the lat- 
 ter slept, he could have sworn he heard Bluet's harsh 
 17
 
 252 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 voice joining in a song with the captain, though this 
 time in the French language. 
 
 " So," he thought to himself as, after having knelt 
 by his wretched bed and prayed for mercy from his 
 God, he flung himself upon it, " so 'tis to this pass I 
 am brought I, who have served the French King 
 faithfully for years, who have committed no crime 
 against him. And am I doomed to remain here for- 
 gotten ? Perhaps be like that other one with whom I 
 communicated to-day, or that still more unhappy man 
 whose life has been spent in these awful walls. Forty- 
 two years, he said of him forty-two years!" And 
 again he applied that second case to himself as he had 
 done the first. " Forty-two years ! I shall be then 
 sixty-six. All, all will be dead and gone. My mother 
 long since, Kate almost of a certainty ; Douglas, too ; 
 even the scoundrel Fordingbridge ! O God ! " he 
 cried, wrought up by these reflections, " release me 
 from this place, I beseech Thee, release me ; even 
 though it be only by death. Let me not linger on 
 here untried for a fault I know not of, uncondemned 
 and forgotten. Take my life, but not my freedom 
 while I live. What have I done ? What have I 
 done ? " And with such a heart-broken prayer as this 
 on his lips Bertie Elphinston fell asleep at last, if that 
 can be termed sleep which was no more than a dis- 
 turbed forgetfulness a broken slumber from which 
 he would wake with a start as some sound from other 
 parts of the prison penetrated his chamber, or a rat 
 would scamper across his bed and touch his hand with 
 its foul, dank coat.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 THE days went on slowly and without anything to 
 distinguish them from one another, until, at last, it 
 seemed to Bertie in his dungeon that he would soon 
 lose count of them, would forget how many had passed 
 since first he entered the prison, and would become 
 confused as to the days of the week. Every night he 
 heard the roaring of the English "captain" if such 
 he was and every day he communicated with the 
 prisoner in the tower opposite to him, but these alone 
 were the incidents of his life, for beyond the visits of 
 Bluet with his meals, no one came near him. And he 
 thought ever of what those outside would imagine had 
 become of him. With that opposite prisoner, for whose 
 appearance at his window he looked eagerly every 
 morning, he had now established an almost perfect 
 system of corresponding, so that, although their inter- 
 course was naturally very slow, it was at least some- 
 thing with which to beguile many weary hours. He 
 had been unable to discover any board which would 
 answer to the one on which his strangely made friend 
 wrote and rubbed out letter after letter and formed 
 his words, but as he had found several large pieces of 
 paper in a corner of the chapel, he had managed to 
 shape a number of large letters indeed, all of the 
 alphabet which, by holding each up successively, an-
 
 254 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 swered the purpose equally well. And thus they cor- 
 responded slowly and wearily, but still intelligibly, and 
 in that way the monotony of their lives was relieved. 
 Yet even this was not always practicable, and some- 
 times they had to desist from communicating with 
 each other at all since, on certain days the sentries 
 were set on the tower in which the man was, and would 
 ha,ve discovered their correspondence had they not 
 discontinued it. But at other times the men's duty 
 took them to other parts of the prison roof for the 
 corps de garde was not strong, the walls, locks, and 
 bars being alone considered sufficient to prevent any 
 attempt at escape and then they were uninterrupted. 
 
 " I am alone in my cell," the other had communi- 
 cated to Bertie, " and my name is Falmy. I am of 
 Geneva. Of the Reformed faith. I know of no other 
 reason why I am here so long. Fleury sent me here 
 the year before he was Cardinal." 
 
 Every morning, however, he prefaced any other 
 message to Bertie by the question, " Have you been 
 examined yet?" and as each day the other shook his 
 head he seemed by his expression to show that he 
 regretted such was the case. 
 
 " If you are not examined soon, your stay may be 
 long. But take heart," he signalled, "the principal 
 examiner is extremely irregular, yet he comes at last 
 in most cases." 
 
 " He has not done so in yours, poor friend," re- 
 turned Bertie, "nor in the case of him who has been 
 here forty-two years ! Who is he ? " 
 
 " Le Marquis de Chevagny, of near Chartres. It 
 was the Grand Monarque who sent him here. He is 
 forgotten. In December he will have been here forty- 
 three years."
 
 AT LAST. 255 
 
 " What was his fault ? " 
 
 " He wrote a pasquinade on Madame La Valliere. 
 She obtained the lettre de cachet from the King." 
 
 "And," signalled back Bertie, "for that he has 
 suffered forty-three years ! " 
 
 " He will suffer till he dies. Louis and La Val- 
 liere have been long dead, so have all of their time. 
 He is forgotten. He will never go forth. Nor shall 
 I. Those who are forgotten are lost." 
 
 With such recitals as these it was not surprising 
 that Bertie's heart should sink ever lower; that as 
 days followed days and grew at last into weeks, he be- 
 gan to feel sure that for him the gates of his prison 
 would never open. He, too, would be forgotten by 
 those who had sent him there; would he, he asked 
 himself, be forgotten by those who loved him ? No 
 one knew that he was incarcerated in those dreadful 
 walls, that fortress in which one was as much shut off 
 from the world as in a tomb. No one would ever 
 know ! 
 
 He consulted Falmy one day as to whether there 
 was no possibility of communicating with that outer 
 world, no chance of letting some friend who could in- 
 terest himself in his behalf know where he was, but in 
 reply the other only shook his head moodily. Then, 
 after staring out of his window for some moments, 
 with always in his face that look of despair which 
 Bertie had observed from the first and had been so 
 fascinated by, Falmy made a sign to him to attend, 
 and began his letters again. 
 
 "There is," he signalled, "one chance alone, 
 be confined with some prisoner whose release may 
 come while you are together. Then to send a message 
 to your friends. By word of mouth alone. No written
 
 256 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 line can go forth. All are searched for letters ere they 
 are let go." 
 
 Bertie thought a moment, then he asked : 
 " Can I get changed to another room ? " 
 Again Falmy shook his head gloomily and pon- 
 dered. But another thought appeared to come to his 
 mind, and he signalled : 
 
 "You will be changed ere long if you are not re- 
 leased or examined. None remain in the chapel who 
 are to stay in this devil's den. I have made many 
 friends at your window, and lost them all. Soon I 
 shall lose you," and as he finished the last word Bertie 
 saw Falmy's face working piteously and knew that he 
 wept. And he, his heart torn with both their griefs, 
 wept too, and left his window suddenly to throw him- 
 self on his bed. 
 
 And still the days went on, and the weeks, and he 
 knew, by the notches he made on the wall as each 
 fresh dawn broke, as well as by the increased cold, 
 that the depth of winter had come. On the roof of 
 the Tour de la Bertaudiere he could see the snow 
 lying now, or heard it fall into the garden with a thud 
 when a slight thaw happened, while the cold became 
 so intense that neither he nor Falmy could stay long 
 at the window to communicate with each other. He 
 had given various little orders to Bluet for payment 
 out of his stock of Louis d'ors during this time, so that 
 the man still looked after him well, and he had a few 
 fagots of wood allowed him, or rather found him, in 
 consequence, over which he would sit and shiver, 
 though the large bulging bars in front of the grate 
 prevented him from getting near enough to the sticks 
 to derive much warmth from them. And often 
 he was driven to seek his pallet and lie huddled
 
 AT LAST. 257 
 
 up in the foul bedding to keep himself from per- 
 ishing. 
 
 And still the weeks went on now, and he was there, 
 though he had begged the turnkey to ask the Govern- 
 or to remove him to a warmer and smaller room, and 
 also to some place where he might have company. 
 But Bluet had only shrugged his shoulders and said 
 that such a request was useless, adding that De Launey 
 was a brigand who would do nothing until it pleased 
 him. 
 
 " Yet," replied Bertie, " he said he would do his 
 best for me and make me comfortable. Comfortable ! 
 comfortable ! My God ! " 
 
 "Poof! poof ?" exclaimed Bluet. "You must not 
 believe in him. He is full of words to those who come 
 in le sal Gascon ! because he knows not how soon 
 they may go out again, nor whether they may not 
 have come in by mistake as mon Dieu ! many have 
 nor what trouble those who go out may plunge him 
 into. But once he finds they are not going that is to 
 say, not going just at once why, then he possesses 
 the Bastille memory which, ma foil means an agree- 
 able forgetfulness. Tenez ! have no hopes from that 
 shivering escargot ! " 
 
 " I am doomed, then, to die in this vault to be 
 killed by the cold and the draughts ! " 
 
 " Non, non, be calm. You will go forth. None 
 but princes and marshals stay long here. And there 
 has been a clearing from above; many have departed; 
 there is room for you now. Soon I shall remove 
 monsieur." 
 
 "Who are gone? Any who have been here 
 long ? " 
 
 " No. Many new ones, and one who was here
 
 258 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 eight years by a mistake. He was a Hollander, a 
 doctor, and mart de ma vie ! they thought he was 
 Schwab, the Alsatian poisoner. He now is gone, and 
 the pig, De Launey, entertained him to breakfast ere 
 he went, though he would allow him only la petite 
 bouteille while he remained. And the captain of the 
 road, the sweet singer of songs, he is gone too, only 
 'tis to the Place de Greve, for a certain purpose," and 
 he motioned to his throat as he spoke and winked at 
 the other, who shuddered. Vile and dissolute as the 
 man's roarings and carousals had been, they had 
 served to cheer him up in his loneliness and desolation, 
 and he regretted his fate. 
 
 Another week passed, and Bertie, who had now 
 contracted a terrible cold and cough that plagued him 
 at nights, began to believe that he would never leave 
 the chapel alive, when Bluet, coming with his break- 
 fast one morning, told him that he was to be moved. 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed the poor prisoner, 
 " thank God ! it cannot be worse than this." 
 
 " No," said the turnkey, " because where you are 
 going to you will find la society. Though, par hasard, 
 I know not if it will enchant you much. There is the 
 oldest pensioner of Madame La Bastille, the Marquis 
 de Chevagny a sad man, taking little enjoyment of 
 his life though he should be used to it by now ! and 
 another, a fool, a madman, they say a murderer. But 
 I know not. However, he is a compatriot of Monsieur 
 le Capitaine, an Englishman." 
 
 " What is his name ? " asked Bertie. 
 
 " Monsieur, to many there are no names in the 
 Bastille. Only numbers, with few exceptions, such 
 as that of De Chevagny, of whom we are justly 
 proud. He is a credit to us and to our care. Still, I
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 doubt not you will soon find out the idiot's name. 
 He has his sane moments, though they are few. But 
 his principal remark is that he trusts the wheel is not 
 too painful. Tis to that he is bound to go." 
 
 " An idiot ! And sent to the wheel, even though a 
 murderer ! Will they do that ? " 
 
 " Faith, they will. For, tenez, monsieur "and he 
 laid a dirty finger along his nose and looked slyly at 
 Bertie " he is a prisoner of the Church, of the priests. 
 He has outraged them. Do you think he will escape 
 their claws if he were forty thousand times as mad ?" 
 
 "When shall I join this company ?" asked Bertie. 
 " I shall be glad to go. At least, the Marquis de 
 Chevagny should be an interesting companion." 
 
 " At once. I will go fetch Pierre to assist in car- 
 rying up your baggage and furniture, and then the 
 King's Lieutenant will escort you to the calotte. And, 
 cheer up, 'tis high, but pleasant ; you can see tout Paris, 
 and the top windows of the Rue St. Antoine. Ma foi ! 
 a gay view, a fine retreat." 
 
 While the man was gone, Bertie placed the table 
 and chair against the wall and sprang on top of them, 
 and since it was Falmy's usual time for being at the 
 window, was happy in finding him there. "Adieu," he 
 signalled as rapidly as he possibly could, "I go to one 
 of the calottes. I pray we may be able to correspond 
 as before." Then in an instant he knew by the light 
 in Falmy's face that such was the case, for he nodded 
 and himself began to signal back: "If not the one 
 
 above me, we can. I " but at this moment Bertie 
 
 heard Bluet coming back to the door, and, hurriedly 
 jumping down, replaced the chair and table in their 
 accustomed position. He had never been able to 
 judge whether the turnkey would have remonstrated
 
 2 6o DENOUNCED. 
 
 at this correspondence with another prisoner, and per- 
 haps have caused it to be stopped. He did not, indeed, 
 think he would do so, but he had always taken pre- 
 cautions to prevent him knowing what they did, and 
 he took them now on this the last occasion. 
 
 Bluet was attended by the other turnkey, Pierre, 
 and accompanied by the King's Lieutenant, who was 
 second in command in the prison ; and while the two 
 former busied themselves in getting together his bed 
 and linen, as well as his furniture, the latter addressed 
 him with that French etiquette and politeness which 
 so often does duty for kind-heartedness. 
 
 " Monsieur has, I trust, found himself as com- 
 fortable as circumstances will permit," he said, "and 
 has wanted for nothing. The food served in this 
 chapel is always of the first order." 
 
 " I have nothing to complain of," replied Elphin- 
 ston ; " since I am here, I must take what comes. Yet, 
 I wish you would answer me a question or so, mon- 
 sieur. You are, or have been, a soldier, like myself. 
 May not that ancient comradeship of arms make you 
 gracious enough to do so ?" 
 
 " It is not the graciousness I lack," replied the 
 officer, "it is the power. For, Monsieur Elphinston, 
 you must surely know we are vowed to silence and 
 secrecy within these walls. It is more than our posts, 
 nay, our heads, are worth to answer questions or 
 divulge secrets."- 
 
 " If I could know," said Bertie, " when I shall be 
 interrogated it would be much." 
 
 " No mortal man in the Bastille can tell you that," 
 the King's Lieutenant interrupted, " not even De 
 Launey himself. The examiner, or judge, comes at 
 fitful times and without warning. He came a week
 
 AT LAST. 26 r 
 
 ago ; he may come again next week ; he may not come 
 again for a year, or for two years." 
 
 "Is it because he did not concern himself with my 
 case a week ago that I am now moved ?" Bertie asked 
 wistfully ; " is it because I am passed over and may 
 have to wait a long time now that this change takes 
 place ? " 
 
 The officer shrugged his shoulders and turned his 
 face away. He was a soldier and had a heart within 
 him, in spite of being the Lieutenant of the Bastille, 
 and he could not reply that Bertie had guessed accu- 
 rately, that it was because he had been passed over, 
 and might, in consequence, be passed over for years, 
 that he was now removed from the chapel. 
 
 " I see. I understand," Bertie said. " I under- 
 stand very well. I may linger on here till I am old; 
 I may become, if I live long enough, the oldest pris- 
 oner ! " Then, once more addressing the Lieutenant, 
 he said, though without any hope of receiving an an- 
 swer : 
 
 " If I could only know to whom or what I owe 
 this incarceration it might ease my mind ; might, per- 
 haps, enable me to confute the charge that in years to 
 come may be brought against me. Can you not help 
 me ! me, a brother soldier ? " 
 
 Bluet and Pierre had left the chapel with the furni- 
 ture and bedding, so that they were alone now, and 
 the Lieutenant, glancing round the place, said softly : 
 
 "Have you no suspicion? Can you not guess? 
 Does not your memory point to one whom you have 
 
 injured?" 
 
 "My memory," replied Bertie, "points to one whc 
 has injured me and those I love so deeply that, if 
 had the power, he would have caused me to be sent
 
 262 DENOUNCED. 
 
 here. But even his devilish malignity could not pro- 
 cure him that. He cannot have the power." 
 
 He had thought of Fordingbridge over and over 
 again as the man whose hand might have inflicted this 
 last deadly blow, yet he could never convince himself 
 that it could indeed be he. He would be almost as 
 much an outcast now, if in the city, as he would have 
 been in London with a price upon his head. How, he 
 had asked himself, could it be Fordingbridge?" 
 
 And the Lieutenant's next words, uttered in almost 
 a whisper, in spite of their being still alone, seemed to 
 confirm his doubts. 
 
 "Think again," he said; "reflect on some other 
 than this one you mention ; on one whom you in- 
 jured, whose ambition you thwarted inSts dearest de- 
 sign ; on one who is powerful, has the ear of the 
 King, who could send you here, and did so. Reflect!" 
 
 Bertie drew back in amazement and stared at the 
 Lieutenant, unable to believe his own ears. Then he 
 repeated : 
 
 "Whose ambition I thwarted! One who is power- 
 ful the friend of the King! Oh, 'tis impossible, im- 
 possible ! Some awful mistake has been made. I 
 know no one such as that. No one." 
 
 Then, clasping his hands together, while his voice 
 rang out clear and distinct in that vaulted chapel, he 
 exclaimed, " For God's sake, help me in this ! For 
 God's sake, tell me to whom you refer ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " said the other. " Hush ! They are com- 
 ing back. And as for the name, it must never pass 
 my lips. If the recollection of your own actions can- 
 not help you now, I can do no more ; " and, seeing the 
 turnkeys at the door, he said in his usual tones, " Mon- 
 sieur, follow me to your new apartment."
 
 AT LAST. 2 g- 
 
 Dazed with what he had heard, Elphinston obeyed 
 him, and slowly they went through the gloomy pas- 
 sages and up more stairs through iron-plated doors, 
 until they stood at the one which opened into the 
 calotte of the tower above the chapel so called be- 
 cause, being the topmost chamber in the roof, it re- 
 sembled a calotte, or fool's cap, or extinguisher. 
 
 " Messieurs,' said the Lieutenant to the inmates of 
 the room when the door had been unlocked and un- 
 barred, " allow me to present to you a comrade. Let 
 me trust you will be agreeable to each other. Mon- 
 sieur de Chevagny, you are the father of the house ; I 
 commit him to you." Then, glancing over to a bed in 
 the corner, on which a dark-haired man lay sleeping 
 with his face turned to the wall, the Lieutenant 
 shrugged his shoulders and said, "MonDieu! le fou 
 sleeps heavily. Well, we need not disturb him. No 
 presentations are necessary with him." 
 
 The man addressed as Chevagny whom Bertie 
 could not but regard with interest, despite the whirl 
 in which his brain was at the strange, inexplicable 
 revelations of the Lieutenant rose with courtesy from 
 a chair as his name was mentioned, and, coming towards 
 Bertie, held out a thin hand. His hair was snow-white 
 and of great length, while his face, partly from age and 
 partly, perhaps, from long confinement, was shrivelled 
 and wan. What his clothes might have originally 
 been it was impossible to guess; now they were a 
 mass of rags and tatters, patched in some places, in 
 others hanging in shreds. Round his neck he wore 
 for a cravat the sleeve of an old shirt ; while the soles 
 of his shoes, which were full of holes, were joined to 
 the upper parts by pieces of pack thread. All over his 
 face there grew a great beard as white as the hair on
 
 264 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 his head, and this may have helped to keep him warm, 
 especially as over his breast it was tucked inside a 
 shirt that was almost black from long wear. Yet, 
 with all this ragged misery, those features of his face 
 which his hair and beard allowed to be seen were re- 
 fined and elegant, were the features of a well-born 
 man. 
 
 " Sir," he said to Bertie as he held out his hand, 
 " what there is here I welcome you to, and I can only 
 pray that it may not be your lot to grow as familiar 
 with this place as I have become. For now now 
 and Bertie could see his old lips tremble as he spoke, 
 " this place has grown through my unhappiness to 
 be the only spot on earth that I know of my only 
 home." 
 
 " Monsieur le Marquis," said Bertie, " for your 
 greeting, sad as it is and sad as is the spot where we 
 meet, I thank you. So long as I am here so long! 
 I shall respect and pity you." 
 
 He had taken no heed of the figure on the bed 
 while he was speaking, having, indeed, his back turned 
 to it, but now it forced him to observe it. 
 
 For, as he spoke for the first time, that figure its 
 wild eyes staring as though about to start from its 
 head, and its hands opening and shutting convulsively 
 was kneeling on the bed, muttering, whining, gasp- 
 ing behind him. 
 
 And, turning round suddenly and seeing its con- 
 tortions and its awful maniacal fear, Bertie reeled 
 back across the calotte, exclaiming: 
 
 " My God ! Fordingbridge ! Face to face at last ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 
 
 YET in that very moment he knew that once more 
 Fordingbridge had escaped his vengeance. He recog- 
 nised in the creature which had flung itself at his feet 
 and was moving, grimacing, and chattering there, that 
 he was mad that he could no longer right his wrongs 
 by choking the life out of it. Those wild, misty eyes, 
 extended to their utmost with fear and maniacal frenzy, 
 told only too plainly that the brain behind them was 
 gone for ever, that henceforward he had to do with a 
 thing that lived, it was true, but had no sense nor rea- 
 son. Yet the maniac recognised him, he observed, 
 was striving in his way to sue for mercy could he be 
 so mad as to be safe from his revenge ? 
 
 "You know him?" asked the marquis, in his sad, 
 weak voice, he having witnessed the scene with aston-' 
 ishment. " You know him ?" 
 
 " To my bitter cost. Until to-day I thought so 
 much has he wronged me that to him also I owed my 
 detention here. Yet that, it seems now, can hardly^be. 
 Monsieur, how long has he been your companion?" 
 
 De Chevagny paused a moment as though en- 
 deavouring to count the time since first his companion 
 had been there his blue eyes gazing out wistfully to 
 the Rue St. Antoine, the roofs of which could plainly 
 be seen from this room then he shrugged his shoul-
 
 2 66 DENOUNCED. 
 
 ders and said, " I cannot tell. I do not know. I have 
 lost the power of keeping count. Yet yet it must 
 be many weeks. We had no fire when first he came, 
 and and the swallows were No," he broke off, 
 " I cannot remember." 
 
 That told Bertie much; told him that it could 
 scarcely have been Fordingbridge who had been the 
 cause, even though indirect, of his being seized and 
 sent here. They must have come in almost at the 
 same time. Who, then, was the strange, mysterious 
 man of power the friend of the King, of whom the 
 Lieutenant had spoken, the man whose deadly venge- 
 ance he had incurred ? 
 
 " Begone ! " he said to his old enemy, still grovel- 
 ling at his feet ; " away from me, I say. Heavens ! " 
 he exclaimed, "must this companionship be added to 
 my other sufferings ? Is the Bastille so small, or are 
 its chambers so crowded, that this wretch and I could 
 not be kept apart ? Oh, what an irony of Fate that I 
 who have sought him so long must meet him thus! " 
 
 " Monsieur," said De Chevagny, while still Ford- 
 ingbridge knelt at Bertie's feet, wringing his hands 
 and muttering, "monsieur, if his wrongs to you, his 
 evil doings, are not beyond all forgiveness, you may 
 pardon him now, almost pity him. He is doomed to 
 death, I hear; nothing, not even his madness, can save 
 him." 
 
 "Pity him!" exclaimed Bertie, "pity him! He 
 has ruined, broken my life for ever; how can I pity 
 him ? And, even though he be not the cause of my 
 presence here, I curse the hour that he was born, the 
 day that threw him across my path ! " 
 
 " They say," repeated the wretched maniac, his 
 eyes glinting about the room in his frenzy, "they say
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 2 67 
 
 nothing can save me. The priests will have my blood, 
 will have me broken upon the wheel, will even refuse 
 me absolution at the last. Yet I confessed to one of 
 them I confessed I should be spared." 
 
 " What fresh crime have you committed that brings 
 you here?" asked Elphinston sternly of him. "What 
 deed of treachery or worse ?" 
 
 "I slew him," said Fordingbridge, still shaking all 
 over, "because I hated him, because he wrought my 
 downfall. I came behind him on on the place, I 
 had the knife up my sleeve thus," and he bent his 
 hand as though to illustrate the holding of a concealed 
 dagger's hilt in it, "and when he turned from me I 
 drove it home. He was dead a moment afterwards. 
 Dead ! Dead at my feet ! " and he leered hideously as 
 he spoke. 
 
 "Who was it you assassinated thus, in a manner so 
 well becoming all your actions ? Some poor, feeble 
 creature unable to protect himself; some old man or 
 stripling, perhaps, and unarmed?" 
 
 Was it well that Bertie did not suspect ? If he had 
 known, if he could but have known or guessed that, so 
 far from being such as he imagined, the victim had 
 been his own stalwart friend and comrade who had 
 fallen beneath the foul assassin's knife, could he have 
 restrained himself enough not to have dashed his^ 
 brains out against the prison walls ? 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Fordingbridge, while at the 
 same time there came into his eyes the awful look of 
 cunning so peculiar to maniacs "ha! ha! I know. 
 But the secret's mine mine and the priests'. Yet, 
 though I confided in them confessed to them they 
 still denounced me, will now slay me. They say," he 
 went on, putting out a long, shaking finger and en- 
 18
 
 2 68 DENOUNCED. 
 
 deavouring to touch the arm of the poor old marquis, 
 who shrank back from him as from some foul creature, 
 " they say that not even my English peerage can save 
 me, since the priests are determined to have vengeance. 
 Do you think that is so ? Will they kill an English 
 peer ?" 
 
 " There is," said De Chavagny coldly for now he 
 knew that the creature he had pitied when first he 
 came to this room was a cold-blooded assassin who 
 had probably gone mad from terror afterwards 
 " there is no reason why they should not. The priests 
 have slain many French peers who were not murder- 
 ers Son Eminence Grise more than a hundred, they 
 say. Why should they not slay an English peer who 
 is such as you are ?" 
 
 " But not by the wheel," Fordingbridge moaned, 
 " not by the wheel. Oh, to think of it ! " and again 
 he mowed and mouthed as he spoke. " I have seen 
 men killed thus there was one at at I forget the 
 place my memory is gone but I saw him. They 
 broke his bones with iron bars, and finished by beating 
 
 in his chest-bone, and " breaking off inconse- 
 
 quently, " I want my dinner; I am hungry." 
 
 In disgust the others turned away from him, while 
 he threw himself on his bed in the corner and moaned 
 again that he was hungry. 
 
 " I have had many strange companions in this cell 
 in my time," said Chevagny, in his' quiet, sad tones, 
 " but never one like this. It is an insult to put such 
 as he is in with us." 
 
 " Will they execute him as he fears ? " asked Bertie. 
 " I had always thought that the Bastille detained its 
 prisoners or sent them forth free. I knew not that 
 condemned men went from it to meet their death."
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 2 fa 
 
 "Many have so gone forth," the other replied, 
 "though generally only traitors. Yet this man stands 
 in evil case, too ; he has murdered, I judge from what 
 he has now said, a priest a Jesuit ; if so, he must die, 
 for the Jesuits are powerful in the Bastille Gerville, 
 the chaplain, is himself one. And, if he is a murderer, 
 he should die." 
 
 " In truth he should," replied Bertie, " nor would I 
 lift a finger to save him. For he is a murderer in 
 more senses than one : he has slain two lives already 
 my own and another. I had sworn to myself to kill 
 him if we ever met ; we have done so, and lo ! I can- 
 not slay him. No matter, let the Place de Greve do 
 its work ! " 
 
 That he should feel no pity for the wretch lying 
 there on his bed was not strange ; he had wrought far 
 too much bitter woe to Elphinston for such a senti- 
 ment to rise into his heart. Indeed, instead of pity, 
 there had come into his mind now a great desire to 
 discover, if possible, who the victim could be whom 
 Fordingbridge had slain. He had not actually said it 
 was a priest, though the Marquis de Chevagny had 
 suggested that it was one, and as Bertie pondered on 
 all this a terrible idea flashed into his mind was the 
 victim Archibald Sholto ? He knew that Fording- 
 bridge hated him, he knew that Archibald possessed 
 many secrets of his; could it be that he had come 
 upon him unawares and slain him ? If so, if such was 
 the case, then it was not strange that the Jesuits had 
 determined upon his execution. And as he reflected 
 on all this he determined that, if Fordingbridge were 
 not taken away to his doom at once, he would find 
 out who it was that had fallen victim to his treachery. 
 
 Bluet came in as he made these resolutions, and
 
 2/0 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 began busying himself with preparing their midday 
 meal, laying three covers at the table in the middle 
 of the room. As, usual the fellow was in his accus- 
 tomed semi-drunken condition, which Bertie had long 
 since discovered was owing to his habit of abstracting 
 some or all of the prisoners' wine ere he brought it to 
 them a pleasing custom none complained of, since he 
 was, otherwise, an obliging rascal ; and, as usual, he 
 began to chatter in his familiar manner to those in 
 the calotte. 
 
 " Ma foi ! " he exclaimed, " if things go on as they 
 now are, we shall soon have no guests at all. The ex- 
 aminers come again to-night ; we are informed they 
 will dine with le vieux singe De Launey ; there will be 
 some clearances to-morrow morning." 
 
 It was natural that at these words hope should 
 spring into the breast of Elphinston ; that he should 
 be excited with the thought that now his case might 
 be considered. Also, perhaps, it was natural that to 
 De Chevagny they caused not the slightest emotion. 
 
 " Is is there any possibility, any chance of know- 
 ing who will be called before them ? " asked the former. 
 " Can you, Bluet, give any guess ? " 
 
 " MonDieu! non" replied the other, "not the least. 
 When D'Argenson, who is the presiding Examiner, has 
 supped and, Heavens ! he will punish old De Launey 's 
 vin de Brequiny, which is a wine to make the goats 
 dance then he will call for the list of our visitors, 
 and will go over it from the first here to the last ; 
 and from that list he will select the names of some, 
 but who they will be D'Argenson and his friend, the 
 devil, alone can tell." 
 
 "There will be one," said the marquis softly, 
 " whose name at least he will not select one who
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 271 
 
 is forgotten by all outside these walls. Yet, how 
 well he was known and loved once by many by 
 many ! " 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur le Marquis," said the good-natured 
 vagabond, trying to cheer him, " what should we 
 within the walls do if he did not forget you ? Mon 
 Dieu ! I would disband myself, would go forth also if 
 you, the father of our company, our Bastille flower, 
 left us. Non, nan, marquis, we cannot part with you. 
 You are our father, our pride." 
 
 " I was here," said the poor old prisoner, shaking 
 his head and as he did so he shook a drop from each 
 of his eyes on to his long beard " when Bernaville was 
 Governor. He put me first in the Tour de la Comte, 
 where Lauzun had been, and where, when he tried to 
 escape, they hanged his servant outside his door as a 
 warning ; him they dared not hang ; and then I thought 
 always that the Examiner it was D'Argenson's father 
 in those far-off days might send for me. But he 
 never did, he never did. And none have sent for me 
 yet, and never will. You will go," he said, looking at 
 Elphinston, " as the others have gone, and he," look- 
 ing at the maniac on the bed, " will go to his doom, 
 but I shall remain until I go, too unto my grave. 
 Ah, my grave, my grave! And then I may see 
 again the young wife they took me from 'tis almost 
 forty-three years ago and the little babe I left 
 slumbering on her breast; the little child that we 
 were going to make so brave a feast over and christen 
 Brigide because it was my mother's name, because it 
 had blue eyes like hers." 
 
 Bertie had turned his face away from the old man 
 to hide his tears, and now he took him by the hand 
 and wrung it softly, while Bluet, who, for a turnkey
 
 272 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 of the Bastille, seemed also much affected, exclaimed 
 boisterously : 
 
 " Courage, courage, monsieur ! We may lose you 
 yet to our desolation. And Madame la Marquise may 
 welcome you still without doubt she lives for you 
 and la petite mademoiselle, now surely a great lady, as a 
 De Chevagny must be. Heart of grace, monsieur, 
 heart of grace, and see the fine dinner I have brought 
 you ! Regardez mot fa. Here is a fish ombre chevalier, 
 of the best and two pigeons, some beef with the 
 gravy in it, and a salad, some rennets and biscuits, 
 and, for the wine, two little bottles. Because, you 
 see, monsieur," turning to Bertie with a husky whis- 
 per, " here in the calottes the visitors drink not with 
 such-abundance as in the chapel rooms. 'Tis not my 
 fault." 
 
 "Why," exclaimed the marquis, in a stern voice 
 very different from that in which he had just spoken, 
 and regarding the table fiercely, " have you placed 
 three covers ? Who are the three ? " 
 
 "MonDieu! you are three, monsieur. Le fou the 
 English lord must eat too, is it not so ? The portion 
 is for three, and a good one at that." 
 
 " He is a villain! " exclaimed the old marquis, his 
 eyes flashing. " He shall not sit at the table. I 
 thought his drivellings of murder were not true, until 
 this gentleman came, and that he was a harmless idiot. 
 Now, I know he is a villain. And and I am a gen- 
 tleman a peer of France he shall not sit at meat 
 with me." 
 
 " Faith ! then he must eat on his bed. Here, fool," 
 Bluet exclaimed, going up to Fordingbridge, who 
 seemed more dazed than ever, though he had been re- 
 garding the food eagerly; " the marquis will not have
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 373 
 
 you. at the table; eat there !" and he flung a platter 
 down before him, on which there was some of the beef 
 and salad, and an apple, or rennet, all mixed together. 
 
 The miserable wretch sprang at the portion like a 
 wild beast that was famished, and devoured it in a 
 few moments, and then threw himself on the bed again 
 and either slept or pretended to do so, while the mar- 
 quis and Bertie, taking no notice of him, discussed 
 their meal, which, in spite of Bluet's eulogies, was not 
 a very solid one. And during its progress they took 
 the opportunity of telling each other a good deal of 
 their various affairs and history, though, since the 
 poor marquis had been immured so many years, his 
 did not take long in the recital. Yet it was pitiful 
 to hear. 
 
 " I had been married but a year," he said. " I was 
 young but twenty-five well to do ; nay, rich and 
 happy. Then I wrote a little ballade, a harmless one, 
 upon La Valliere ; it was sung about the streets, it 
 reached Marly and Versailles, and and that was all ! 
 A week later I was here and it is forty-three years 
 ago. O Jeanne, my wife ! O Brigide, my little child, 
 my babe ! where are you both now ? Forty-three 
 years! Forty- three years! Forty-three years! If 
 they should see me they would not know me. Jeanne 
 could not recognize in me the young husband who was 
 torn from her side ; my little girl never knew me, will 
 never know me now." 
 
 That Bertie's expressions of pity and sympathy 
 with the poor old prisoner eased his grief he could not 
 flatter himself, nothing could bring comfort, he knew, 
 to that broken heart and wasted life. Moreover, he 
 was himself too appalled, too overshadowed, by the 
 dread of what might be his own fate to give much
 
 274 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 consolation to the other. He was young, almost as 
 young as the marquis had been when he was brought 
 here ; he might be here, in this very calotte, forty-three 
 years hence. Could there be any horror greater than 
 this to look forward to ? Anything more dreadful than 
 such as this, to freeze the very life out of him ! 
 
 Yet, he hoped that it was not possible; he even 
 hoped that to-night, when the judges came, might see 
 his liberty announced. For he knew now that he must 
 be the victim of some awful error ; there was no man 
 in France whom he had injured, no man whom he 
 knew who held the rank and power which the King's 
 Lieutenant said his enemy held. How, then, could he 
 have come here except by a mistake ? 
 
 Bluet brought their supper at eight o'clock and an- 
 nounced to them that D'Argenson had arrived with two 
 other examiners, or judges, as they were termed indif- 
 ferently ; that they were supping with De Launey, 
 and that, when this was finished, they would proceed 
 to the great hall, where those who were to be ex- 
 amined would be summoned one by one before them. 
 
 " And when when," asked Bertie, " shall I know 
 if if I am passed over ? " while it seemed to him as 
 he spoke as though his tongue cleaved to the roof of 
 his mouth so that he was scarcely intelligible. 
 
 Bluet shrugged his shoulders ere he answered, then 
 he said : 
 
 " 'Tis scarce possible to say. Men Dieu ! in this 
 place day and night scarce know distinction. They 
 may sit till daybreak I have known them tlo it when 
 making a great clearance, and we have had to rouse 
 our guests from their beds to go before them. Yet, 
 'tis not always so ; ordinarily, by midnight, the affair 
 is finished."
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 2 ~, 
 
 " So that," said Bertie, " I can know nothing for 
 certain until the morrow." 
 
 Again Bluet shrugged his shoulders, again he an- 
 swered dubiously that, " en veritd, that might be so ;" 
 and then, saying that "Monsieur le Capitaine must 
 hope for the best," he took himself off. 
 
 So, in this hapless frame of mind, Bertie sat down 
 to pass the first night in his new lodging. That he 
 should sleep was impossible, and therefore bidding 
 the marquis, who had already got into his bed, " Good- 
 night," he dragged a chair in front of the barred fire- 
 place and sat there brooding through the hours. Of 
 Fordingbridge, who was lying outside his bed, neither 
 of the others had taken any heed, and even when he 
 muttered incoherently Bertie regarded him not. 
 
 As he sat there watching the fire die, he heard the 
 great clock over the gateway strike eleven ; as he still 
 sat on, listening for any sound which might announce 
 the coming of those who would be sent to fetch him, 
 he heard it strike twelve. Yet still no one came. By 
 this time the candle in the socket high up out of reach 
 was flickering and flaring at its last ebb and throwing 
 great shadows on the walls; and- once, as he looked 
 round the room, disturbed by some movement of 
 Fordingbridge's, he saw that the latter was sitting up 
 on his bed peering at him with his great hollow vacant 
 eyes, in which the glare of madness was almost inten- 
 sified by the unsteady waverings of the candle's flame. 
 Then, as the great clock tolled one, the light went 
 out, and he heard Fordingbridge throw himself back 
 on his bed. 
 
 Still the time went on once Fordingbridge laughed 
 in the dark, an imbecile, vacant laugh ; once, he could 
 have sworn, he heard him mutter " Sholto ! " and once
 
 2 ;6 DENOUNCED. 
 
 he moved uneasily on his pallet and groaned and 
 then the clock struck two. But still he sat on in the 
 darkness before the dead fire, waiting, waiting. And, 
 at last, he heard a sound of a door opening in a distant 
 corridor, then another, and then footsteps approach- 
 ing. And a moment later Bluet's voice was speaking 
 outside. 
 
 "Monsieur," he heard him say, "Jeregrette beau- 
 coup, but the judges have departed ; monsieur's chance 
 is not yet arrived." 
 
 And with a heart-broken groan Bertie groped his 
 way to where his bed had been placed and flung him- 
 self upon it, while, as he did so, he heard his maniacal 
 foe at the other end of the calotte muttering to himself 
 and laughing once more.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST MINUTE MOUNTED." 
 
 AFTER that night Bertie ceased to believe that he 
 would ever go forth from the Bastille; a lethargy, 
 which was partly despair and partly a fierce, bitter 
 repining at the inexplicable, unmerited cruelty which 
 had consigned him to such a place, took possession of 
 his spirits, and he came to regard himself as one who 
 was dead to the world for ever. 
 
 Yet from the other to whose long sufferings his 
 own could at present form no comparison he received 
 consolation in many forms ; from De Chevagny, con- 
 tinual exhortations were made that he should never 
 lose heart, while even Bluet would tell him, in his 
 own familiar, good-natured manner, that he was far 
 too young a visitor to consider himself a permanency 
 as yet. 
 
 " There have been men here," said the marquis, re- 
 peating the same stories over and over again to him 
 for his comfort, "who have not given up hope for 
 years, who have then done so and become despairing, 
 and have then, after still more years, gone out free." 
 After which he would tell of the Dutch doctor who 
 had been mistaken for the Alsatian poisoner; of others 
 who had been there ten, fifteen, twenty years, and had 
 at last got away ; indeed, to solace poor Bertie, the 
 marquis more than once said that even he himself, 
 
 277
 
 2 7 8 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 after forty-three years, had not lost all courage, and 
 hoped to spend some few of those remaining to him in 
 freedom. Yet, as the other looked in his face and 
 heard his sad, trembling tones, he knew that it was but 
 pity that inspired the words; that, in his heart, De 
 Chevagny knew he would never be released. 
 
 From Falmy by use of their letters which, in spite 
 of the change in lodging, they could still make visible 
 to one another he received also many sentences of 
 encouragement and counsel, while one day there came 
 from that unhappy man a piece of information which 
 once more set his heart beating with hope, and raised 
 great expectations. 
 
 " I have been joined by another prisoner," he sig- 
 nalled across to the window of the calotte. " He is, 
 however, about to obtain his liberty awaits only his 
 signed acquittal from D'Argenson. If you have mes- 
 sages to send, he will deliver them if possible." 
 
 In an instant Bertie had snatched from an old 
 trunk that had been brought by De Chevagny the let- 
 ters which he used, and a few moments later he had 
 begun to signal a message to his mother, which he in- 
 tended to augment by another to Kate. His heart 
 beat high as he did so ; he knew that, if this prisoner 
 who was to be released was only faithful, in a few 
 days at most the two women who loved him so would 
 know of his whereabouts, though they were powerless 
 to obtain his freedom. Yet, could even that be possi- 
 ble ? Who could say ? His mother might represent 
 to the King his long and faithful services in the regi- 
 ment ; Kate might have powerful friends at court who 
 could do something. 
 
 With trembling hands he formed the words, letter 
 by letter. " Tell him my name is Elphinston. Bid
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST." 2 7o 
 
 him seek out my mother. She lives at the Rue " 
 
 Alas ! as he finished the last letter of the word " Rue," 
 upon the calotte about the tower in which Falmy was 
 there appeared the cone-shaped shako, or cap, worn 
 by the corps de garde of the Bastille, followed by the 
 body of a sentry, and, hastily leaving the window, he 
 desisted from his work. He was foiled for the day at 
 least ; the sentry he knew, was set on that particular 
 tower, and either he or those who relieved him would 
 be there for twenty-four hours. And as he reflected 
 that in those twenty-four hours the acquit from D'Ar- 
 genson might come for the prisoner who was about to 
 be released, he felt as if he would go mad. 
 
 Falmy appeared at his window often during the 
 day, looking wistfully up to the calotte, though Bertie, 
 who could still observe him when standing back from 
 the window, dared make no sign. It would matter 
 nothing for the soldiers to see him at the opening 
 the prisoners were allowed the privilege of looking 
 out if the windows were low enough to permit of their 
 doing so but the slightest communication that should 
 be observed to pass between them would be visited 
 with the most severe punishment, even to confinement 
 in the dungeons beneath the ditch. He perceived, 
 therefore, all the signs of distress on Falmy's face; he 
 even observed him turn round, and saw his lips move 
 as he gesticulated to his new companion within the 
 room; he could guess, as plainly as though he had 
 heard him, what the Genevese was saying. He felt 
 sure that he was explaining that there must be a sen- 
 try above them, and that therefore Elphinston dared 
 not signal across. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed poor Bertie, "oh, if I had but 
 acquainted them with my mother's address at once be-
 
 280 DENOUNCED. 
 
 fore the guard was set ! that would have been enough. 
 Fool ! fool that I am to lose so fair a chance ! The 
 very visit of a man set free from this place to my 
 mother's house would have alarmed her suspicions, 
 would have told her all. And now, now, he knows not 
 where to go. God help me ! it was my only hope, and 
 I have lost it." 
 
 All day he watched the roof of the opposite tower, 
 hoping against hope, for he knew the guard would only 
 be changed, and not removed. He watched still as the 
 shadows of the winter evening deepened into night, 
 and still also he watched until the night itself had 
 come and both tower and sentry were obscured in 
 darkness. And as he kept his dreary vigil all through 
 the day, he saw Falmy's face at his own window, star- 
 ing at him with sad and melancholy glances, but with- 
 out any sign being made by him, so that he knew 
 that a guard had been placed above the roof of his 
 tower as well. 
 
 " On any other day it would have mattered noth- 
 ing," he moaned to himself. Oh, why to-day of all 
 days should these towers have been selected ! " 
 
 It was so absolute a chance, such a coincidence, 
 that the guard should happen to have been placed at 
 this part of the Bastille on this particular occasion 
 that his misery and mental anxiety were not strange. 
 Of all the days he had been in the calotte, there was 
 scarce one that could have been worse for him and his 
 prospects. 
 
 The restless night passed, the dawn broke, cold, 
 grey, and miserable, and springing from his bed he 
 rushed to the window only to see above the opposite 
 tower a sentry still there. The twenty-four hours' 
 guard was not yet finished, would not be until the
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST." 2gl 
 
 great clock over the gate should clang out nine. And 
 it was not yet eight o'clock on this dreary February 
 morning! But at last the hour arrived. The sentry 
 presented arms to the King's Lieutenant who came to 
 dismiss him from his post. As the clock struck, the 
 roof was deserted, and a few minutes later Falmy's 
 face appeared at the window. But he shook his head 
 mournfully, and then, with his board and piece of 
 charcoal, he communicated the melancholy words, 
 "The prisoner went forth at eight o'clock." 
 
 And now, indeed, Bertie gave himself up to despair 
 black despair that grew deeper and deeper as the 
 weeks crept by one after the other; as slowly the 
 cruel, griping Paris winter passed, and gradually they 
 knew that spring was coming. Yet to him who had 
 once welcomed the birth of new summers with such 
 eagerness, the one now on its way to gladden the 
 earth brought no comfort. The swallows came back 
 and circled round and round the towers of the prison, 
 and began, with countless chirps and squeaks, to build 
 their nests below the gloomy eaves, yet he only found 
 himself wondering 1 vaguely why, when they were free, 
 they should choose so foul a place. Also, over in the 
 garret windows of the Rue St. Antoine he saw daily a 
 girl tending some flowers in a box, even saw the tint 
 of the flowers themselves as they burst into bloom, 
 and wondered, too, if she, who had her liberty, ever 
 cast one thought to the poor prisoners confined so 
 near to her. 
 
 As for his companions, De Chevagny and Fording- 
 bridge, they seemed, from opposite reasons, to be in- 
 different to any changes that the season might bring, 
 though sometimes the former would stand at the 
 window and hold out his hands and let the warm May
 
 282 DENOUNCED. 
 
 sun for May had come stream down upon them and 
 his face, and whisper sadly that for those who could 
 be out in the woods and fields it was good, very good. 
 Then, when he was tired of standing or sitting thus, 
 he would cast himself on his bed and sigh, and so sleep 
 away the hours. 
 
 With Fordingbridge, both he and Elphinston had 
 ceased to hold any converse at all; nor, indeed, had 
 they been willing to talk with him, was it possible that 
 he could either have understood or replied to them. 
 His madness seemed to grow upon him daily, and, 
 while he became more taciturn, also he became more 
 imbecile. Once he woke Bertie in the early morning 
 by crawling to his bedside, and, holding out a piece of 
 string which he had found imbedded in the filth of the 
 floor, asked him to hang him ere they could lead him 
 to the wheel ; and one night he raved and moaned so 
 through the dark hours and on this occasion the 
 other heard him beyond all doubt mutter the name of 
 Archibald that the prison doctor was sent for the 
 next day. 
 
 This official, who was addressed diversely by Bluet 
 as Monsieur le Docteur Herment and Monsieur V Abbe 
 Herment when he brought him in, seemed to be in 
 about the same state of semi-drunkenness as the turn- 
 key generally was, and to be also an inordinately vain 
 creature. He had on his head a golden-haired wig 
 which, while he was examining the unhappy wretch 
 Fordingbridge, he was engaged in telling Bertie had 
 been made from the hair of one of his cheres amies who 
 loved him truly; and he also remarked that some 
 silver buckles on his shoes had been given him by a 
 grande dame who had recently been released from the 
 Bastille.
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST." 2 g, 
 
 " What of the patient ? " asked the latter sternly, 
 such observations being unwelcome to him. "Will his 
 lunacy increase, think you?" 
 
 "Mafoi!" exclaimed the abbe, or doctor, "so 
 much so that it is my duty to warn the Society of 
 Jesuits to be expeditious with what they have to do. 
 Otherwise they will miss their victim, and our good 
 Parisians will lose a spectacle. The wheel furnishes 
 many a fete in the Place de Greve." 
 
 " Will they do that ? " asked Bertie. " Will they 
 execute so miserable a wretch as this ? " 
 
 " Bien sur, they will. Was there ever a Jesuit who 
 forgave ? " 
 
 " What has he done ? They say he has slain a 
 priest." 
 
 But the other was not to be entrapped like this, so, 
 with a wink, he replied : " Monsieur, you should know 
 by now that Madame La Bastille keeps her secrets well. 
 But this I will tell you." and he pointed as he spoke to 
 Fordingbridge, who was writhing on his bed, though 
 none in the room could guess whether he understood 
 what was being said or not, "he is doomed. And 
 since he appears likely to escape the examiners if 
 there is much more delay, his time will not be long 
 now. Not long. Not very long ! Oh, no ! Bon jour, 
 messieurs, I have my report to make to the Governor. 
 Yet, since we must not lose our friend, I will send him 
 a draught." 
 
 Whether the creature' really made his report as he 
 said he should, and thereby hastened Fordingbridge's 
 end, Bertie Elphinston never knew, but at any rate it 
 came soon afterwards. 
 
 It was on one night, one i4th of May, when the 
 weather had taken an extraordinary change, and all 
 19
 
 284 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the warmth of the coming summer seemed to have 
 disappeared and winter to have returned, and when 
 from their window they could see slight flakes of snow 
 mingled with the falling rain, that Bluet, bringing in 
 the supper, appeared to be especially solicitous that 
 Fordingbridge should make a good meal. 
 
 " Mangez, mon ami" he said, as the other crouched 
 on his bed, staring round the room with the hunted 
 expression that was always now in his eyes " mangez 
 bien. Make a good supper. Mon Dieu ! you eat noth- 
 ing of late," and he came over to the table where the 
 others sat and asked their permission to tempt the 
 idiot with some meat and biscuits. Then, as he bent 
 over to take them from the dish, he whispered signifi- 
 cantly : 
 
 " He goes to-morrow. Before daybreak." 
 If Bertie had known that the doomed man had, to 
 his other crimes, added that of cowardly slaying his 
 bosom friend Douglas, could it have been possible 
 that into his heart there could have come the feeling 
 was it pity that now arose ? At last, then, Ford- 
 ingbridge's end had come ; he was to pay for all ! 
 And and for of such complex emotions are we 
 formed as Bertie heard that his doom was sealed, he 
 forgot the wrongs he had suffered at this man's hands ; 
 he forgot the wreck of his and of Kate's life ; if he 
 did not forgive him, he compassionated him. Rising 
 from his chair he went over to the bed where Fording- 
 bridge was seated, and on which he shrank from him 
 as he approached, and, pointing to the biscuit he held 
 in his trembling hands, he said, very gently, " Eat, 
 Fordingbridge, eat. It will do you good. And, see, you 
 have nothing to drink," and going back to the table he 
 poured out a cup of wine and brought it to him.
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST." 285 
 
 With still trembling hands the madman took it 
 from him, glinting at him over the cup as though 
 afraid, and watching him as though fearful that at any 
 moment a blow might be dealt ; and then, when he had 
 drained the last drop, he began slowly to munch the 
 biscuit, which he kept shut in the palm of his hand, as 
 though someone was about to take it from him. 
 
 " Do you ever," asked Bertie, speaking slowly and 
 distinctly, as if he might thereby make him understand 
 what he was saying, " do you ever think of those who 
 who were once dear to you ? If if it should 
 please God in His infinite mercy that, some day, per- 
 haps in some far-off, remote day, I may depart from 
 here, and you may not not accompany me, is there 
 any word, any message, you would wish to send ?" 
 
 Still Fordingbridge shrank from him, creeping, edg- 
 ing farther away from where he had sat down by his 
 side, but he uttered no word. Only, still his eyes 
 roamed restlessly over Bertie's form, and still his 
 mouth worked convulsively as ever, and his hands 
 twitched. 
 
 " Think. Reflect, I beseech you," the man whom 
 he had wronged so much continued, " you are not 
 well you may at any moment be worse. And I, 
 forgetful of the past, would, if it ever comes into 
 my power, very willingly do this for you. Fording- 
 bridge, you may trust me. As I sit by you to-night, 
 I cast away for ever from my memory the evil you 
 have wrought me ; I desire only that, if I can, I may 
 serve you. Can I do nothing?" 
 
 And still the other shrank from him, understand- 
 ing, perhaps, not one word that he said. Once more, 
 however, Bertie continued : 
 
 "If you can comprehend me, I pray you do so.
 
 2 86 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Think, remember. You had a wife once; before God 
 I believe she is your wife now, and always has been ; 
 I do not believe that you deceived her. Have you 
 no word for her, no plea for pardon, no request that, 
 as time goes on, she may come to think of you without 
 bitterness ? Also there are others Archibald Sholto 
 and Douglas ' 
 
 A cry from the maniacal lips interrupted him a 
 hoarse cry such as an Animal in pain, an animal that 
 had been struck suddenly and unawares, might utter. 
 
 "Douglas! Douglas! Douglas!" he shrieked. 
 "Douglas! Douglas!" and so continued muttering 
 that name again and again. Then, with another 
 sound, half wail, half sigh, he flung himself back on 
 his bed, and thus spent his last night on earth. Yet, 
 even on that night, through the whole of which he 
 chattered unintelligible words to himself, he laughed 
 once or twice convulsively, and as though suffocating 
 with suppressed mirth. 
 
 As the shadows of the night departed and the 
 morning gave signs of breaking, with still the snow- 
 flakes mingling with the rain that beat against the 
 windows of the towers, they came for him the King's 
 Lieutenant, accompanied by four of the corps de garde. 
 
 " Put on your cloak, if you have one," that officer 
 said to the miserable creature shrinking back to the 
 wall, while he shivered all over and uttered his broken 
 cries "put on your cloak, and come." 
 
 "In pity leave him!" exclaimed Bertie; "in the 
 name of Christianity, of humanity, refrain from taking 
 so miserable a life as this ! Vile as he has been, see, 
 see what he is now ! It is as though you took the
 
 "HIS HOURS TO THEIR LAST.' 
 
 28; 
 
 life of a helpless child, of a dumb brute. As you hope 
 for mercy, show some." 
 
 " I am but an instrument," said the Lieutenant ; " I 
 have my orders; willingly or unwillingly I must obey 
 them. And if I would spare him, nay, if my master 
 the King would spare him, the Church would not. He 
 is in their grip ; it will be unfastened an hour hence, 
 when he is dead." Then, turning to the soldiers, he 
 said, " Bring him away." 
 
 They took the shaking wretch no longer a man 
 but only a living thing by the arms and led him 
 moaning to the door; yet, when he had arrived there, 
 he had the strength to wrench one of them free; and 
 looking round at Bertie for the last time in the world, 
 and with his starting, scintillating eyes fixed on him, 
 he raised that arm, the hand clenched as though grasp- 
 ing a weapon, and once twice struck downward 
 fiercely with it. 
 
 Then he was gone for ever.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 
 
 A GREAT masked ball was over at the opera house; 
 the candles were burning down into their sockets in 
 the girandoles and lustres; the May morning, which 
 under ordinary circumstances should have broken so 
 soft and bright, had dawned foul, rainy, and snowy ; 
 and carriages, hackney coaches, and sedan chairs were 
 pushing their way up to the doors of the theatre and 
 carrying off their employers to their houses and beds. 
 
 But all were not yet departed ; some still sat drink- 
 ing or chatting at the supper tables; some danced in 
 groups without any music to accompany them except 
 the airs which they hummed or whistled themselves, 
 for the orchestra had put up its instruments and gone 
 also to its bed; and some, principally men, struggled 
 and pushed in the vestiaires to obtain cloaks, roque- 
 laures, hats and riding hoods, and swords which lat- 
 ter could not by law be worn in the ball-room. Mock 
 harlequins jostled imitation Henrys of Navarre; mock 
 monks swore at supposed Crusaders ; minotaurs and 
 cavaliers and priests all contended against one an- 
 other for their and their female companions' wraps, 
 and at the same time laughed and jested and pro- 
 posed breakfasts at neighbouring taverns, or a visit to 
 the gambling hells, which on such nights as these kept 
 their doors perpetually open. 
 
 288
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 
 
 289 
 
 Amidst all this confusion there ran through the 
 whole place a rumour a whisper, which reached first 
 those in the vestiaires, and next the people at the sup- 
 per tables that those who so chose might yet finish 
 their night's enjoyment with another spectaclea 
 grim and dismal but still enjoyable one which was 
 far better than any tavern breakfast or punting at the 
 gaming table. 
 
 " Figurez-vous ! " screamed one reveller, a deformed 
 creature by nature, who had, with true Parisian appre- 
 ciation of ludicrousness, arrayed himself consequently 
 as Venus " Jlgurez-vous, mes enfants, there are two for 
 execution, although, malheufeusement, but only one is 
 to be broken. The other, they say because, peste ! he 
 is a sal Anglais and also of high rank escapes the 
 wheel and is only to be decapitated. A curse upon 
 the law, say I, that treats an Englishman better than 
 us ! " 
 
 " Ma petite Venus de poche" remarked another to 
 him, clad as an arquebusier, "have a care how you 
 curse the law ; otherwise you may get broken your- 
 self. There are plenty of police here in disguise, and 
 if they hear you, that goodly hump of yours will stand 
 a fine chance of being smashed by the executioner's 
 bar. Ma foil the coup de grace is generally adminis- 
 tered to the chest bone; with you, I presume, it will 
 be administered on the bosse." 
 
 "I spoke only in jest," exclaimed the deformed 
 one, glancing round apprehensively; "I meant no 
 harm. A good subject, I, of the King of France and 
 all his ministers. But come, let us away. Who's for 
 the Greve ? Mon Dieu ! we must not miss the show ! ' 
 
 "I am for it, for one!" screamed a girl not over 
 twenty, whose golden hair hung down over her back,
 
 290 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 and whose tones and glances proclaimed her to be 
 already far sunken in dissipation. " I have never yet 
 seen a man done to death ; and as for the wheel, why, 
 I have prayed often for a chance of seeing it. They 
 say the coup de grace is magnificent if the the patient 
 is still sensible. Now, in our old village, before 
 the young lord brought me to town, we never saw 
 anything but a beggar in the stocks. And, dame ! les 
 ceps cease to be interesting after one has pelted the 
 occupiers for half an hour." 
 
 "Pretty things," said the arquebusier, looking 
 down sardonically on her, " have a care, in a chere, 
 that you never come to worse than les ceps yourself. 
 I have known many country girls brought to town by 
 their young lords, and hem! who got worse shift 
 than the stocks when they were discarded." 
 
 "Ah! voyons ! " exclaimed the girl, " avec fa ! Look 
 you, my figure of fun, you are insolent. Get you home 
 to your wife and family, and earn bread for them. We 
 of the fashion desire none of your banalites" 
 
 Yet, as she spoke, she was being inducted into her 
 long cloak by some of her would-be admirers, and also 
 many others were getting ready. For Paris had not 
 had an execution for some two months now, and the 
 "half-tiger, half-monkey nature" which Voltaire at- 
 tributed to his countrymen was thirsty for its favour- 
 ite form of entertainment. 
 
 In the ball-room itself there sat, however, a group 
 very different from those in the vestibule, who, since 
 the masquerades were open to all who could pay for 
 admission, had attended the ball. This group con- 
 sisted of Sir Charles and Lady Ames once Lady Bel- 
 rose and Kate, who, in spite of her melancholy and 
 her ill-health, had been persuaded to accompany them.
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 2 QI 
 
 Heaven knows such diversions were little enough in 
 her way now ! yet Lady Ames had been kind to her 
 when she needed kindness, and, at the express desire 
 of Sir Charles and his wife, she had consented to go 
 with them. 
 
 In one way she was not unhappy: she knew, she 
 felt certain, that this second disappearance of Bertie 
 Elphinston from the knowledge of the world was not 
 of his own accord. That something terrible had hap- 
 pened she could not doubt ; yet she knew also that, 
 whatever that something might be, it was not due to 
 any desire to hide himself from her that was, if he 
 was still alive. But was he ? " 
 
 Douglas's awful death by an unknown hand might 
 also have been Elphinston's lot : who could tell ? 
 And then her own husband's disappearance! Did not 
 that point to some catastrophe ? Over and over again 
 she had meditated on all these things, lying awake 
 for nights together, pondering over them, wondering, 
 wondering always. For even now she was in total 
 ignorance of who the murderer of Douglas had been, 
 of what Archibald had discovered. He had written to 
 her at intervals, it was true, but he had either avoided 
 all reference to the tragedy, or had said that, if the 
 murderer was ever brought to justice, she would 
 doubtless know all. Her husband he never men- 
 tioned. 
 
 Yet, those who are aware of what she could not 
 guess can understand how difficult a task it would 
 have been for the Jesuit to tell her that he had dis- 
 covered the assassin, and that Fordingbridge, her hus- 
 band, was the man. It may be that, after he had 
 handed him over to the proper authorities, he hoped, 
 nay, endeavoured so to arrange that she should never
 
 292 DENOUNCED. 
 
 discover that her husband was the criminal. Better 
 that he should disappear from her knowledge forever, 
 go to his doom without her dreaming that he had paid 
 for the crime with his life, than that she should know 
 to what a foul thing she had been united. 
 
 The candles guttered lower in their sockets, the 
 attendants were putting out even the few lights that 
 still burned; it was time to go. The opera house was 
 emptying fast of all who had danced the night away 
 there ; amidst shrieks and whoops and yells the lower 
 class of visitors were departing in coaches and chairs 
 or on foot some to their homes, but many to the 
 Place de Greve. The spectacle of one man being 
 broken to death and another decapitated was not to 
 be missed. 
 
 " They say," exclaimed Sir Charles, as he returned 
 with the cloaks and hoods of the two ladies, " that an 
 execution takes place this morning on the Place de 
 Greve. Hark ! you may hear the creatures chattering 
 over it as they go forth. Well, our coachman need 
 not go through. the Place, though it is on our road. 
 Surely he can skirt round it. At least, I will bid him 
 do so," and he escorted his wife and Kate to their 
 carriage. 
 
 Outside, the crowd that was making its way to the 
 place of execution was stamping down the now fast- 
 falling snow as it fell, and hurrying forward for fear it 
 should be too late for the show. With renewed shrieks 
 and yells it went onward, singing songs and choruses, 
 roaring out ballads that perhaps it deemed suitable to 
 the occasion, beating on tambours-de-basque and little 
 labours which formed the accompaniments of many of 
 the masquers' costumes, and hammering on doors that 
 were as yet unopened, with their shepherds' crooks
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 203 
 
 and wooden swords (which were allowed to form part 
 of their dress) and canes, and howling at the inhabit- 
 ants to arise and come forth to le spectacle. They 
 halted very little on their short way, sometimes only 
 to shake the falling snow off their clothes, sometimes 
 to wipe the paint and raddle from their faces which 
 the wet snow had turned into sticky filth, and some- 
 times to kick over the braziers of the early morning 
 chestnut-sellers, or to run into an early-opened wine- 
 shop, hastily gulp down a drink, and then go on again. 
 
 "Heavens!" exclaimed Sir Charles, as the slow- 
 progressing coach kept pace with the creatures that 
 passed along the miserable three-foot sideways or 
 crunched along the road "heavens! what a crowd 
 is a Parisian one ! Their laughter is as ferocious in 
 its way as the roughness of our English rabble nay, 
 I believe, far more deadly. How they revel in what 
 they are going to see ! " 
 
 " I tell you, my friends," screamed one painted 
 harridan from the sedan chair she was being carried 
 in, to a number of her friends who walked beside it, 
 "that it is a great, a magnificent spectacle. I have 
 seen it, voyez-vous, at Lyons, on the Place Bellecour, 
 often once, twice, thrice. Ma foi! the shriek at the 
 first blow as the man lies back, his body tied to the 
 wheel, is pene'trant jcrasant ! And so on, the cries be- 
 coming lower, till they are no better than sobs or 
 groans, until the coup de grace. Then, sometimes, but 
 alas! not always, there will be one more wild shriek, 
 andzw/tf/ c'estfini. After that it is always time for 
 breakfast." 
 
 One or two girls in the crowd making its way on- 
 ward glanced at the ogress in the sedan chair and 
 turned white; and Kate, who had heard all her words,
 
 294 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 grasped Lady Belrose's hand; while a man, walking 
 steadily along through the snow, answered the woman, 
 saying: 
 
 "Peste ! 'tis not always as good as that. I waited 
 once all through a summer night at Caen to see a 
 man broken I remember we played cards, I and the 
 others, in the moonlight, and I lost four gold pistoles 
 and, dame! the fellow was a favoured one. Fa- 
 voured, you understand. A vile aristocrat. So, as we 
 thought, they strangled him as they bound him, and, 
 malediction! he suffered not at all. Never screamed 
 once not once. 'Twas a cruel wrong to the spec- 
 tators." 
 
 " 'Tis an aristocrat who suffers to-day, they say," 
 another man exclaimed. 
 
 " Nay," screamed still another, " not so. The aris- 
 tocrat will suffer not ; they will but slice his head off 
 with the axe. There is no suffering in that ; 'tis done 
 and over in a moment. Yet I would see him die, too. 
 He is an English aristocrat, and I hate all English ; 
 one beat me the other day for regarding his flaxen- 
 haired wife too admiringly ! I have never seen an 
 Englishman die. They are brutes, yet they have the 
 courage of devils." 
 
 " An English aristocrat ! " said Sir Charles to his 
 companions. " I do not understand this. There have 
 been no Englishmen arrested in Paris for a longtime; 
 otherwise I must have heard of it among our friends 
 here. What does he mean ? " 
 
 " My dear Charles," replied his wife, "you do not 
 know the Parisians very well. An English aristocrat 
 to them is any Englishman who is outside his own 
 country for pleasure and with his pocket well lined 
 with guineas. Doubtless, however, this is some needy
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 2 Q5 
 
 ragamuffin or copper captain, who has come to the 
 scaffold for his sins, and they suppose him an aristo- 
 crat." 
 
 Whatever Sir Charles may have replied was drowned 
 now by an increase of the howls and yells of the 
 crowd, by fiercer beatings on the tambours- de-basque 
 and tabours, by snatches of wild, frenzied songs, and 
 by bursts of hysterical laughter. 
 
 The Place de Greve was in sight. 
 
 " Turn off !" said Sir Charles, putting his head out 
 of the window and addressing the coachman "turn 
 off, I say ! I told you to leave the route to that in- 
 fernal Place and avoid it. Why have you disobeyed 
 me?" 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders as he looked 
 round from his seat doubtless, in spite of the orders 
 he had received, he meant to see le spectacle himself if 
 possible then he said : 
 
 " Monsieur, it is impossible to turn off, or scarcely 
 now to proceed. The crowd encompasses us. Yet 
 the Place is not so full but we may pass through it. 
 Mon Dieu ! if it had been a fine May morning, a fly 
 could not have passed." 
 
 Is is there anything dreadful taking place 
 
 yet ? If so, we will not proceed." 
 
 The driver stood up on his box and gazed forward ; 
 then he shook his head and said : 
 
 "Non, monsieur, there is nothing. Only the erec- 
 tion itself, and the soldiers and people ; not many of 
 the latter, either. Nous autres" pointing to the howl- 
 ing crowd from the Bal Masque seething around them, 
 will double the sightseers." But he muttered to h 
 self, Ere we get into the middle of the Place we 
 see something, or I'm a stupid escargot"
 
 296 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Go on, then," said Sir Charles, " as quickly as you 
 can, since you cannot now turn round. Lose no 
 time." And he spoke to his companions, saying, 
 " Best put on your masks. This is no place for ladies 
 to be seen in. But we shall be through it all in five 
 minutes." 
 
 Lady Belrose and Kate did as he bade them, and 
 then the coach went on, slowly following all those in the 
 road before them. Unfortunately, it had no curtains to 
 the windows, which shut from within as was the custom 
 of the day, otherwise the baronet would have closed 
 out the whole of their surroundings. But this was 
 impossible. 
 
 And still the crowd accompanying them shrieked 
 and howled more and more fighting and struggling 
 to pass each other ; thrusting those in front of them 
 away, elbowing and pushing the man who had 
 waited all night at Caen playing at cards, throwing 
 another almost under the wheels of Sir Charles's 
 coach, while a girl was borne down in the crush and 
 dragged aside fainting stamping with glee and ex- 
 citement, almost dancing in frenzy. 
 
 For the bell of the neighbouring church was toll- 
 ing now, and, through the flakes of snow as they fell, 
 the wheel and the block for the two condemned men 
 were visible on the scaffold. 
 
 That scaffold itself was a platform some seven feet 
 high, around which stood a company of the grenadiers, 
 with, on either side of it, a guard of the musketeers. 
 On the left of it was the wheel itself, fixed hori- 
 zontally between stout wooden supports let into the 
 platform, it being a large cannon-wheel. On the 
 right side was a headsman's block, with, beneath it, a 
 basket filled with sawdust, now half covered by
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 2 Q7 
 
 snow. By the wheel and leaning against it was a 
 huge club, iron-bound at the head, and at this sight 
 the crowd became still more excited, if possible, point- 
 ing it out to each other and saying, " Behold, la 
 massue. She will do her work well, fapese bien," and 
 laughing and screaming once more, and rubbing their 
 hands. 
 
 Next came a roar, with shrieks from women and 
 more faintings among them, while, by some impulse 
 unrecognised perhaps by themselves, all of the latter 
 produced their masks and put them on. It may be 
 that something feminine, some feeling of womanly 
 shame, prompted them to hide their features, to dis- 
 guise their presence there. As for the men, the ex- 
 citability of their natures affected them in a different 
 way, for at what was happening now some of them, 
 even strangers to each other, shook hands effusively, 
 and some clapped others on the back. 
 
 For the condemned ones were in sight. 
 
 They came forth together from a small door in 
 the wall of the Hdtel de Ville, side by side, these two 
 who were to suffer ; one he who was to perish on 
 the wheel being nearly naked, and having on him 
 nothing but a short pair of breeches reaching to his 
 knees and a sleeveless singlet. He was a great, bull- 
 chested man, with massive limbs that would have be- 
 come a gladiator, and, as he strode along attended by 
 a confessor with a crucifix in his hand, he seemed to 
 the mob to appear like one who would suffer severely. 
 Therefore they roared and shrieked at him, and some 
 waved handkerchiefs and clapped and cried, while he 
 regarded them almost with contempt. Yet there was 
 a glance in his eyes as if he could not comprehend 
 why all these people, whom he saw through the fall-
 
 298 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 ing flakes, should be thus fantastically dressed and 
 should also be masked. 
 
 In truth it was a weird scene in the Place de Greve 
 that morning, with the condemned men approaching 
 the scaffold through the snow, and with, for the 
 greater part of the spectators, these women, through 
 the holes of whose masks their eyes glittered, and 
 whose grotesque costumes were but little suited either 
 to the occasion or the wintry morning. 
 
 Yet still there was the other doomed one. He, 
 however, approached the platform very differently 
 from the manner in which the man whose portion was 
 the wheel came forward. He, too, had by his side a 
 confessor with a crucifix after each there walked the 
 executioners, and also the officials and it seemed as 
 if he would shelter himself behind the robes of the 
 priest. Yet sometimes, too, he smiled and gibbered 
 at the crowd as though it was composed of his friends, 
 and only when he saw the masked faces of the women 
 and all the quaint garbs of the onlookers did he seem 
 astonished. 
 
 At his appearance the crowd appeared startled, the 
 shouts died down ; instead of them a whisper ran 
 through their ranks. " He is mad! 11 est fou!" they 
 cried, and again some women fainted. 
 
 " Great God ! " muttered Sir Charles Ames hoarsely, 
 catching sight of him. Then, suddenly, he said : 
 " Kate Lady Fordingbridge do not look out ; for 
 pity's sake do not ! " And to his wife he made signs 
 that she should prevent her friend from glancing at 
 the scaffold. 
 
 But he was too late! Already she had done so; 
 already she, peering from the window of the coach, 
 her own face masked, had seen the face of the trem-
 
 KATE LEARNS SHE IS FREE. 299 
 
 bling, grinning wretch ; and, since gradually the coach- 
 man had edged the carriage through the crowd until 
 it was not now ten paces from the platform, he, too, 
 saw her the woman with her face disguised glaring 
 at him. 
 
 She herself was nearly fainting at this time, yet 
 she could see the headsman grasp his axe and motion 
 to the victim to kneel down and place his head upon 
 the block, and in her agony she raised her hand to her 
 brow. In doing so it struck and loosened the mask, 
 so that it fell off, leaving her face exposed. 
 
 And then the crowd's enjoyment culminated ! 
 
 For he saw the mask fall away from her he saw 
 her face. 
 
 And with a wild scream a scream that penetrated 
 to the hearts of all in the Place de Greve he shrieked : 
 
 " Kate ! Kate ! 1 have seen him ! He forgives ! 
 He is a prisoner in " and fell back, dying, into the 
 executioner's arms. 
 
 The frenzied brain had failed at last. 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. 
 
 KATE had been, as already stated, far from well of 
 late ; the horrible revelation of that snowy morning 
 brought her near to death's door; and, after she had 
 been taken back to the Prince's house in a prostrate 
 condition and put at once to bed, her life was for some 
 weeks despaired of. 
 
 Meanwhile she was carefully ministered to by all 
 the Scotch ladies who formed a part of the establish- 
 ment, and also by Lady Ames, who refused under any 
 circumstances to quit Paris; though, indeed, her indul- 
 gent husband did not press her to do so. 
 
 " The King," she said, " may call me a Jacobite, 
 may even prosecute me for one when I return to Lon- 
 don, yet I shall not leave Lady Fordingbridge now 
 no, not even if I have to become an inmate of Charles 
 Edward's house. Oh, the horror of seeing one's hus- 
 band brought out to such a doom, villain though he 
 was ; the horror of it ! How shall she ever recover 
 from such a catastrophe ? " 
 
 "How, indeed?" replied Sir Charles, who, world- 
 ling though he was, had been as terribly shocked as 
 she at the end of Fordingbridge's career. " Yet it 
 might have been worse. It was a merciful providence 
 that saw fit to end his life at the moment it did. 
 Think, only think, if, added to all else, she had seen 
 
 300
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. 3OI 
 
 his head fall, as she would have done had he not died 
 at the instant ! " 
 
 Lady Ames nodded her head reflectively as she 
 agreed with him ; then a few moments later she said, 
 speaking from the deep fauteuil in which she was sit- 
 ting in their lodgings, which they had now taken on 
 the Quai des Theatins so as to be near her : 
 
 " You heard his last words ? < I have seen him. 
 He forgives. He is a prisoner in ' and then died be- 
 fore he could conclude. What, Charles, do you think 
 they pointed to ?'' 
 
 Sir Charles shrugged his shoulders; then he asked 
 significantly, "What does she think they pointed to?" 
 "Alas!" his wife replied, "she does not refer to 
 them ; seems scarcely to have heard them uttered, or, 
 if she did, not to have understood them. Remember, 
 she is but a woman, and, although it is impossible she 
 should regret his death, the horror, the shame of it, 
 has broken her down completely. She longed any 
 woman would long to be free of a man who had 
 deceived her from the first as he had done, yet no 
 woman could desire her freedom should come in such 
 an awful form. They say," she continued, sinking her 
 voice to an awestruck whisper, " that he died of fright 
 upon that scaffold." 
 
 " Possibly," replied Sir Charles, " possibly. He 
 was a cowardly fellow, as it seemed to me, when 
 Sholto and I had that interview with him in your morn- 
 ing-room. I should not be surprised ; other men have 
 died on the scaffold, at the foot of the gallows, before 
 now. Why not he ? But," he said, changing the sub- 
 ject, " since we can do nothing, we must be what as- 
 sistance we can to her. Now, I propose to set about 
 discovering what he was led out to execution for;
 
 302 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 what his crime was. It must have been something 
 horribly grave to lead to a man of his position being 
 executed in France ; for, although no treaty of peace 
 has as yet been signed between them and us, we are 
 no longer at open strife. And if," he added, " France 
 would but send this Stuart packing, and harbour him 
 no longer, a lasting peace might be secured."* 
 
 " What could it have been, think you ? " his wife 
 asked. " Something terrible, to lead to such a con- 
 clusion." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "yes. Something terrible." 
 
 Then he devoted himself to the task of- discovering 
 what that something terrible could have been. 
 
 Meanwhile, Kate, after being utterly broken down 
 and lying between life and death for something short 
 of a month, began to mend at last, her naturally fine 
 though delicate constitution enabling her to triumph 
 over the blow she had received. Then she, too, told 
 Lady Ames that she must discover for her own future 
 ease, if not peace of mind, the reason why her wretched 
 husband, after having disappeared for so many months, 
 had met his end in such a way. Also she undeceived 
 her friend in the belief that she had not heard that 
 wretched husband's last words. 
 
 "For," she said, "I heard them all, clearly and 
 distinctly. Heard them ! I hear them now at night ; 
 all day ; as I lie here. ' I have seen him. He forgives. 
 
 He is a prisoner in .' And," she continued, laying 
 
 a white, wan hand on that of the other who sat by 
 her bedside, " I know well enough to whom he referred. 
 It was to Bertie, to Mr. Elphinston." 
 
 " Great heavens ! " exclaimed Lady Ames, who, 
 
 * As happened the next year, by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle.
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. ^ 
 
 in the excitement of all that had happened since that 
 terrible morning, had absolutely forgotten that this 
 other one was also as mysteriously missing as Lord 
 Fordingbridge had been "great heavens! to Mr. 
 Elphinston. Yes, it must be. Each word would apply 
 to him. O Kate ! what does it all mean ?" 
 
 " God knows what it means; what it points to none 
 can doubt to the fact that in the prison from which 
 they brought him the other one is incarcerated; 
 though on what charge I cannot dream. Oh, my dear," 
 she exclaimed to her friend, " beg Sir Charles to find 
 out that those two things, above all : the prison, and 
 the reason why he is detained. Then, when that is dis- 
 covered, we may do something to obtain his release, 
 since I am known to so many who have influence." 
 
 "Yes," Lady Ames acquiesced, "yes; Charles 
 must do that. Yet there are many prisons in Paris 
 where men are kept unknown to the outer world La 
 Force, Bicetre, Vincennes, the Bastille. And what can 
 he have done to be sent to any one of them?" 
 
 " Heaven alone knows. Yet, in France, men are 
 sent on the most trivial charges, on suspicion alone, 
 sometimes. Oh, I beseech you, ask your husband to 
 discover first where he is, and then we may learn of 
 what he is accused, and do our best to free him." 
 
 Sir Charles, with now a clue as to whom the mis- 
 erable man had referred, prosecuted his researches 
 with great ardour, keeping ever two points before him 
 for elucidation : the first being the reason forwhich 
 Fordingbridge had been brought to execution, and the 
 second the prison from which he had been conducted 
 to the Hotel deVille; for, when he had discovered 
 the latter, he would know almost of a surety where 
 Elphinston was. Yet almost as well might he have
 
 304 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 demanded information of the stones in the streets and 
 have expected to receive an answer, as from those 
 whom, with infinite trouble, he sought out. 
 
 Commencing with the English ambassador who 
 professed himself profoundly ignorant of the execu- 
 tion of Lord Fordingbridge, as well as extremely 
 shocked that such an outrage should have been com- 
 mitted upon a nobleman of our country, no matter 
 what his fault was he next managed to procure an 
 interview with the Mayor of Paris and with the Prefect 
 of Police, the former a more important functionary 
 then than now. Yet all was useless ; he got no further. 
 After many visits to the ambassador, the latter told 
 him plainly that Lord Fordingbridge's death would 
 lead to very little discussion between the two countries ; 
 moreover, any discussion was just now to be avoided. 
 France and England were by this time sick of warfare 
 and wanted peace, and the only thing that stood in 
 the way of that peace was the espousal of the Stuart 
 cause by France. 
 
 "And," remarked the ambassador quietly to Sir 
 ' Charles, in a private interview they had together, "the 
 peace will come, and, if I am not deceived, the 
 Stuarts will go. The Chevalier de St. George at Rome 
 knows such to be the case; so does the Prince here; 
 only they do not run away from the storm. Time 
 enough for that when it breaks; anyhow, it won't be 
 particularly hurtful will only, indeed, lead to a resi- 
 dence in Paris being exchanged for the capital of 
 some other country. Yes, everything points to peace 
 has begun, indeed, to do so for some time back. Now," 
 and his Excellency leaned forward and spoke very 
 gravely, " this Fordingbridge episode must not disturb 
 that impending peace."
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. ^ 
 
 " No one wishes that it should do so," Sir Charles 
 exclaimed; "we only desire a little information. He 
 had a wife, and, although he had behaved as a thorough 
 scoundrel to her, is it not natural that she should wish 
 to know what his crime was, and what prison he was 
 confined in before the morning when he was taken to 
 what was intended for his execution ? " 
 
 " Perfectly natural," replied the ambassador, with 
 easy grace, " perfectly natural on her part. Only, 
 how is the information to be obtained ? I tell you 
 frankly I cannot procure it for you. Lord Fording- 
 bridge was, in London, what they term here ' a sus- 
 pect '; he was under Government surveillance there; 
 known to be a late Jacobite avowing Hanoverian prin- 
 ciples yet known also, of late, to have been one of 
 the prime movers, if not the prime mover, in the at- 
 tempted assassination of his Majesty before the in- 
 vasion. Also he was known I assure you," the am- 
 bassador interjected still more gravely, as he bent for- 
 ward, " everything was known about him to be the 
 friend of Charles Edward's followers, yet to be, also, 
 their denouncer. He disappeared from England, no 
 one knew why, closed up his house, wrote to his attor- 
 ney to say he should probably not return for many 
 years, and also that the lady who had passed as the 
 viscountess was not so in actual fact." 
 
 " It was a lie ! " exclaimed Sir Charles. , 
 
 "Without doubt," the diplomatist continued 
 suavely. "I only mention all these things to show 
 you that we need not trouble our soon-to-be-beloved 
 French neighbours about the Viscount Fordingbridge, 
 especially as, after all, it was a higher power than 
 they who slew him. Remember, he plotted to kill the 
 King ; he was Hanoverian or Jacobite as it suited him ;
 
 306 DENOUNCED. 
 
 in fact, Sir Charles, he was contemptible. Let us 
 forget him." 
 
 " Everyone is perfectly willing to do so, I assure 
 your Excellency," the baronet replied, in quite as easy 
 a manner as the other was capable of assuming; "he 
 is quite done with on all sides. Only someone else has 
 to be remembered who is supposed to be in the prison 
 he was led out from someone whose freedom many of 
 us desire to procure." 
 
 "An Englishman, of course?" 
 
 "Yes. Not precisely so, though. .A Scotchman, 
 and " 
 
 " A Jacobite, perhaps ? " the ambassador asked with 
 a sweet smile. 
 
 "There have been tendencies " 
 
 " Precisely. Good-morning. You can hardly 
 
 I protest, Sir Charles,- you can hardly expect King 
 George's representative to interest himself in that 
 quarter. G^^-morning." 
 
 As regards the mayor and the prtfet, he arrived 
 no nearer. The former, a rabid hater of all things 
 British, told him that, although he had no knowledge 
 of what persons might be in the variou's prisons of 
 Paris, he was quite sure that, if any Englishmen were 
 incarcerated, they deserved to be. The prefet, more 
 politely but with equal firmness, said he also was not 
 aware of what English people might be detained in 
 the prisons, but that, even if he possessed the knowl- 
 edge, he should not consider it his duty to give any 
 information on the subject. 
 
 Then Kate, by this time recovered somewhat from 
 the shock of her husband's death, and, although she 
 knew it not, rapidly mending in health through the 
 knowledge of the freedom that was now hers undoubt-
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. - 
 
 edly, determined that she would lose no opportunity 
 of herself discovering where Bertie Elphinston was in- 
 carcerated ; for that Fordingbridge had spoken the 
 truth in his last moments, half mad though he seemed, 
 she never had the faintest shadow of a doubt. 
 
 First she wrote, as was natural, to Archibald 
 Sholto, telling him everything exactly as it occurred 
 from the ending of the ball at the opera house to 
 Fordingbridge's last words. Also she asked him to 
 discover, if possible, for what crime her husband had 
 been condemned to death. Above all, she begged him 
 to find out from what prison he had been led to the Ho- 
 tel de Villeon the morning of his execution. "Because," 
 she wrote, " in that prison Bertie Elphinston, your friend, 
 your murdered brother's friend, will be found." 
 
 Her letter reached Father Sholto at St. Omer, to 
 which he had removed from Amiens, and for some 
 weeks he did not answer it; while, when he did so, he 
 simply wrote to say that he would endeavour to find 
 out the reason why Bertie should be incarcerated in 
 the prison from which Fordingbridge had been brought 
 forth. 
 
 " "Tis a cold answer at best," he muttered to him- 
 self one evening, as he paced along the marshy 
 swamps around St. Omer, unobservant of the ripening 
 fruit in the rich orchards all about, and even of the 
 glorious sunset behind him "a cold answer, yet 
 what else to make ? I cannot tell her that it must be 
 the Bastille in which Bertie is confined. Merciful 
 Father in heaven ! " he broke off, "what can he have 
 done to be there ? Because it was to the Bastille that 
 I, determined never to loose my hold on Douglas's 
 murderer, procured he should be sent. Also I dread 
 to tell her what Fordingbridge's crime was, who the
 
 308 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 avenger of that crime is. I dread ! I dread ! It is 
 more than I have strength to dare." 
 
 Still pacing the marshes, he turned over and over 
 again in his mind all that he had pondered on for so 
 long, with now added to all that the fresh knowl- 
 edge derived through Kate that Elphinston was in the 
 Bastille. 
 
 " In the Bastille ! the Bastille ! So that is where he 
 disappeared to without leaving a trace, a sign behind 
 him. To the Bastille ! It seems incredible. What 
 could he have done ? A good officer, a favourite with 
 all. It is indeed incredible." 
 
 Still musing, he approached the town, to be aroused 
 from his meditations, in spite of himself, by the clash 
 of arms from the guard being relieved at the gates, 
 and by the blare of some trumpets from the walls. 
 They seemed to chide him, he thought, for being so 
 inactive; they seemed to reproach him for meditating 
 so much and for doing so little. 
 
 " Only," he murmured as he almost wrung his 
 hands, " what what shall I do ? He is in the Bastille, 
 and, though I could send that other one to the same 
 fortress, I have no power to obtain this one's release. 
 Who can help me ? To whom shall I apply ? " 
 
 At last, tossing on his bed as he had so often 
 wearily tossed before, he thought of Tencin. The 
 cardinal, he knew, was no longer in the greatest fa- 
 vour, and had been sent back to his archbishopric as 
 a punishment; yet he could not be the Primate of 
 France and still be without some influence. If he 
 could do nothing else, he could at least find out on 
 what charge Elphinston, an officer of the King's army, 
 had thus been thrown into prison. So he sat down 
 and wrote to monseigneur.
 
 AFAR OFF STILL. 
 
 Of course more weeks passed thus long ones to 
 the poor prisoner in the calotte, and almost as long to 
 the woman outside who loved him so, and to the man 
 at St. Omer who was doing his best for him ; then, at 
 last, the archbishop wrote, but could tell nothing. 
 He was, he said, astonished that such a thing could 
 be. The Scotch officers had served the King faith- 
 fully without exception ; it was incredible that one 
 could be thus incarcerated. The only thing his Emi- 
 nence could suppose was that Elphinston must have 
 mortally wounded or angered someone of high posi- 
 tion at court someone much in favour with the King 
 himself, and able to procure a lettre de cachet from him 
 without any questions whatever being asked. He 
 could imagine nothing else but that. Then, having 
 given vent to his surmise, he proceeded to suggest to 
 Sholto the very best steps he could take. 
 
 "Of all men," his Eminence wrote, "there is none 
 for your purpose like D'Argenson. As you know, all 
 the family are of the same trade lieutenants of police, 
 Presidents of Parliament, judges; and the present 
 one, like his father before him, is not only one of his 
 Majesty's chief judges, but also the chief Examiner of 
 the internes of the Bastille. The family is high in the 
 world now, but some generations back were low for- 
 get not that. Yet, neither will your remembrance of 
 it have weight with D'Argenson. He has a heart of 
 marble if he has any heart at all, but with it a sense of 
 justice that it is impossible to excel. If Captain El- 
 phinston is falsely detained, or detained in error, 
 D'Argenson will set the matter right, though he may 
 take months to do it." 
 
 " Though he may take months to do it." Alas ! it 
 soon seemed to Archibald Sholto that he was more like
 
 3io 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 to take years. He had got into communication with 
 this important personage through the influence of the 
 cardinal, but once in communication had advanced, 
 or seemed to advance, no further. The judge wrote 
 in his tablets, it is true, the name of Elphinston, and 
 said that if he were in any prison in France he would 
 take care that his case was inquired into sooner or 
 later. Beyond that he refused to say another word. 
 
 And with this Sholto had to be content, and to try 
 and persuade himself that it was at least something 
 toward the desired end. Also he wrote to Kate, saying 
 that it was from the Bastille that Fordingbridge had 
 been brought to execution, and that therefore doubt- 
 less it was the Bastille in which Bertie was. And he 
 bade her be of good heart and hope for the best, since 
 one of the principal examiners of prisoners detained in 
 the prisons had projnised that his case should be in- 
 quired into. 
 
 " Though he may take months to do it ! " the car- 
 dinal had said. Verily it seemed as if he had indeed 
 known the man of whom he wrote. 
 
 For the months passed away outside the Bastille as 
 they were passing away inside, and to those without 
 there came no news of him within; so that, at last, 
 Kate was led almost to believe that, as her husband 
 had lied to her from the very beginning, so he had lied 
 to her at the end. For it seemed to her that if Bertie 
 had ever been in the gloomy fortress, by which she 
 now so often walked and to which she went and stood 
 before and gazed upon, he must have been released 
 ere this, or in some way have found an opportunity of 
 communicating with her.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." 
 
 IT was in the early part of May, 1747, that Ford- 
 ingbridge had been led out to his doom, and month 
 after month had passed, another May had come and 
 gone, and, at last, another December the December 
 of 1748 had come round. Then even the hopeless 
 state into which Bertie had been so long plunged was 
 quickened back to life by the behaviour of two people 
 with whom he held some intercourse. 
 
 Although Falmy and he had almost ceased now, 
 from very weariness during the passage of time per- 
 haps from heartbrokenness to communicate much, 
 they did occasionally do so when either considered 
 that he had anything to tell the other that might cause 
 him some faint stir of interest ; and one morning the 
 former, appearing at his window, made signs to Bertie 
 that he was about to signal. Then when the other 
 nodded to show that he was attending to him, the 
 Genevese traced on his board the sentence, " Have you 
 heard anything unusual?" To this Bertie, with a 
 bound of his heart for, in spite of his long incarcer- 
 ation and his growing hopelessness, he still had, al- 
 though he knew it not, a ray of courage, of presenti- 
 ment, left in him shook his head, and by eager facial 
 signs asked Falmy to explain his meaning. But he, 
 whether it might be that he was afraid of communi- 
 
 311
 
 312 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 eating too swiftly anything he had gathered, only 
 signalled back, "Say nothing to De Chevagny as yet. 
 It is rumoured that they have remembered him." 
 
 "Remembered him," thought Bertie, "at last!" 
 and as he so reflected he looked round upon the poor 
 old man sitting with his white head bent over his 
 knees, and wondered if, should this be true, it would 
 be for his good to go forth." 
 
 " 'Tis now forty-five years," he said to himself, 
 " since he came here. A lifetime ! Of what use for 
 him to regain his liberty ? He said Once to me, when 
 first I was brought to this room, that this awful place 
 was his only home. Heaven grant, if they release him, 
 that he may not find it to be so ! " 
 
 He watched Bluet's manner when he removed the 
 remains of their next meal which meals had gradu- 
 ally, as month followed month, become more sparse 
 and meagre, possibly because De Launey had now 
 come to suppose that neither of them would ever be 
 able to publish to anyone outside those gloomy walls 
 the story of his neglect and parsimony, to call it by 
 no other name and as he did so he noticed that this 
 good-natured fellow seemed even kinder to the old 
 man than ever. 
 
 " Man Dieu!" he began now, with his usual ex- 
 clamation, varied only occasionally with his ma foi 
 " man Dieu, 'tis cold, Monsieur le Marquis. Yet, I'll 
 warrant me, there are blazing fires in many a happy 
 home in France. Par exemple, now, in the Chateau de 
 Chevagny I will dare to say they keep good fires for 
 monsieur." 
 
 The old man looked up at him with a startled, hurt 
 look ; then he said softly : 
 
 "Bluet, you have always been good and kind to
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." 
 
 me. In the ten years you have been here I have 
 come to look on you as a friend. Yet, when you re- 
 call needlessly to me my my long-vanished home 
 that I shall never see more you hurt, you wound 
 me." 
 
 " Ah ! avec fa ! " said Bluet, " I'll wager you see 
 that home again yet. Or, perhaps man Dieu ! why 
 not ? the Hotel de Chevagny in Paris itself. Monsieur 
 le Marquis is not to suppose we shall entertain him 
 for ever ; no, no ! Neither is he to imagine that be- 
 cause he has dwelt with us so long it is a little long, 
 I concede he shall never leave us." 
 
 The old man regarded him fixedly for a moment, 
 then he sighed and gave a true French shrug to his 
 shoulders. " If," he exclaimed, in his gentle, well- 
 bred voice, the aristocratic tones of which he had 
 never lost " if it pleases you to wound me, Bluet, you 
 must do so. Yet I know not why. We have always 
 been such good friends." 
 
 " Cease," said Bertie to the turnkey in a whisper. 
 "Why play with an old man thus?" 
 
 " It is no play," Bluet replied in the same whisper, 
 only that his was a husky, vinous one. "He is re- 
 membered. D'Argenson comes to-morrow night. He 
 will go before him. It may be that on the next day 
 he will be free. Break it to him if you can." 
 
 "You are certain of this?" Bertie asked, intensely 
 startled and interested now. "Certain? I thought 
 you told me long ago that no one knew who the 
 judges would call before them." 
 
 " Ordinairement," replied Bluet, while he glanced 
 at the marquis, who was again warming himself at the 
 fire, "no one does. But this is different. The min- 
 ister sent a day or so ago asking if there was one in-
 
 314 - DENOUNCED. 
 
 carcerated here of his name. They say the primate, 
 Tencin, stirred him to it. Then then voyez-vous 
 D'Argenson's secretary came and poof! we hear 
 many things, we jailors ! D'Argenson will come him- 
 self to-morrow night, and, mort de ma vie I we shall 
 lose the prison flower ! Where where will he go to ? 
 May the good God protect him! " 
 
 The name of Tencin roused many bitter reflections 
 in Bertie's heart, many recollections of how it was this 
 cardinal and archbishop who had been the main- 
 spring, the prime mover, in the Scots' invasion of of 
 was it a year ago, or two years ago ? He had to 
 pause and count over to himself the time ere he could 
 recollect, for he seemed to have lost all power now of 
 reckoning the period that he had been in the Bastille. 
 Then, when he had arrived at the remembrance that 
 he had absolutely been here for two winters and was 
 in the third December of his detention, his mind went 
 back to the name of Tencin again. Tencin, he re- 
 peated Tencin, the minister who brought about the 
 invasion of England, who was the friend, almost, in- 
 deed, the patron, of his own master, Charles Edward. 
 Yet he, a devoted follower and adherent of that Prince, 
 a man who had followed him until the last, had had to 
 suffer so cruel an imprisonment as this which he had 
 undergone ! Tencin ! Would he allow that if he knew 
 of it ? Would he let one who had served the Prince 
 so well be incarcerated there ? It might be not, if he 
 but knew that such was the case. Only, how could 
 the fact be brought to the powerful cardinal's knowl- 
 edge ? That was the question. 
 
 He glanced at the marquis, who was still sitting 
 gazing into the embers, and he remembered that Bluet 
 had said again, before he left the calotte with the re-
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE.' 
 
 315 
 
 mains of the supper, " Break it to him if you can." 
 Well, he would try and break it to him; only, he 
 prayed Heaven that in the breaking he might not kill 
 the old man with the shock. And, if that did not hap- 
 pen, then why, then, perhaps, through him the car- 
 dinal might be apprised of how a faithful adherent of 
 the cause he had championed was wrongfully immured 
 in the Bastille immured, neglected, and forgotten. 
 
 "Monsieur de Chevagny," he said, drawing up 
 another chair by the side of the old man, " are you 
 fatigued to-night ? You seem so seem more weary 
 than usual. You are not ill ?" In truth, the old mar- 
 quis had been presenting signs of late that his strength 
 was failing rapidly, and that he was fast nearing the 
 only escape from the Bastille that had for forty-five 
 years seemed likely to come to him ; and to-night he 
 appeared even more feeble, as well as more absent- 
 minded and lethargic, than ever ; also he was more 
 dazed than was his wont. But he replied : 
 
 " No, no, not ill or only so from having lived for 
 seventy years ; and also from having passed forty-five 
 of those years in prison. A long while ! A long while ! 
 A lifetime! My father's whole life was not so long." 
 
 " Yet," said Bertie soothingly, " it may still be pro- 
 longed ; it may " 
 
 " Would you desire for me that it should be pro- 
 longed ? " the other asked, lifting his eyes to Bertie's. 
 " Is that to be wished, think you ? " 
 
 For a moment the younger man hesitated, then he 
 said, speaking very gently : 
 
 "Yes, if if you could find happiness thereby. 
 For suppose only suppose that some great chance 
 should come to you ; some undreamed of, unsuspected 
 chance, by which you might be enabled to see once
 
 316 DENOUNCED. 
 
 more the wife you so tenderly loved, the little child you 
 left sleeping on her bosom " 
 
 " Stop ! For God's sake, stop ! " De Chevagny 
 exclaimed. " You torture me ; you wring my heart 
 worse, far worse, than ever Bluet did. You conjure 
 up hopes that my senses tell me can never be realized ; 
 you bring before me thoughts and ideas that I have 
 been trying to bury and put away for many, many 
 years now." 
 
 And, as he spoke, Bertie saw his old eyes fill with 
 tears ; again saw those tears drop from his eyelids to 
 his snowy beard. 
 
 " Oh, my friend, my fellow-prisoner," he said, 
 " believe me, I would not torture you unnecessarily. 
 Think you that I, before whom this living tomb 
 yawns as it yawned before you years ago that I, who, 
 Great Powers ! may be here, in this very room, forty 
 years hence would say one word to distress you ? 
 No, no. Never, never ! But, listen to me, I beseech 
 you ; and, above all, listen to me calmly. I have 
 something to tell you, something that I pray earnestly 
 may make you very, very happy." 
 
 As he spoke he dropped on one knee by the old 
 man's side, while, taking one of his hands in his, he 
 passed his arm round the other's waist, and, drawing 
 him to him, supported his now trembling form as a 
 son might have done. And as he did so he felt how 
 worn and thin his poor old body was. 
 
 " What is it ? " whispered the marquis. " What is 
 it ? You you frighten me ! I I cannot bear a 
 shock." 
 
 "Pray, pray," continued Bertie, "do not be fright- 
 ened nor alarmed. Indeed, you have no cause. But, 
 oh, my dear and honoured friend and companion,
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." 3,7 
 
 there has come strange news into this place, strange 
 news for you nay, start not! Strange news! It is 
 said strive to be calm, I beseech you that, that be 
 brave ! as you have been so long your release is at 
 hand. It may come soon, at any moment now." 
 
 He felt the old man's feeble 1 frame quiver in his 
 grasp ; he felt him draw a long breath, and saw him 
 close his eyes. Then for a long while he was silent, 
 sitting enfolded in the other's arms as though he were 
 asleep or dead. But at last he spoke: 
 
 " If it should be so, if this is true, what will become 
 of me ? Can I hope to find my wife alive ? And for 
 my little child that was she is almost old now, if 
 she still lives. She will not know me; will not, per- 
 haps, believe I am her father." 
 
 " Oh, how can she doubt it ? And for your wife 
 she need not be dead ; how many women live far be- 
 yond your own age why, my mother is near it. 
 Look hopefully forward, therefore, I beg of you, to 
 your release ; think of what happiness may be yours 
 still." 
 
 But, although Bertie used every argument to prove 
 to De Chevagny that there must be still some period 
 of such happiness before him, however short that 
 period might be, he could not bring him to so regard 
 his forthcoming release. Above all, he could not 
 make him believe for one instant that he would ever 
 meet his wife or child upon earth ; and he reiterated 
 again and again that, if he could not have them with 
 him, he would almost prefer to remain a prisoner. 
 
 " I have grown used to the filth and squalor of this 
 place," he said, "to my wretched rags. My hotel 
 across the river, even if it has not been long since 
 confiscated, would be no fit abode for me. Better re-
 
 318 DENOUNCED. 
 
 main here without hope, better forget that I was ever 
 a free man, loving others and beloved myself, than go 
 forth into the world where I am unknown. And," he 
 said tenderly, "I have at least one friend here I have 
 you." 
 
 On the next day, however, when Bluet had told 
 him that beyond all doubt he was to be taken before 
 D'Argenson that night, he began to show a little more 
 interest in what was occurring, and, at last, to look 
 forward eagerly to the hour when the Examiner should 
 arrive. 
 
 " For," he said, " I shall have a piteous tale to tell 
 him ; perhaps when he hears it he may be disposed 
 to look into the cases of some others who are here. 
 There is that poor man Falmy, over the way; he, too, 
 should be released." 
 
 At six o'clock the King's Lieutenant paid a visit to 
 the calotte De Launey had never been known to visit 
 a "guest " from the time he was first received by him 
 and asked the marquis whether he would choose to 
 have a change of linen and some fresher clothes in 
 which to appear before the judges; but this offer he 
 firmly refused. 
 
 " As I am," he said, " as I have been for so many 
 years," and he held up his arm, from which his sleeve 
 hung in a hundred tatters; "so I will go before him, 
 and, if he releases me, so I will go forth into the world 
 again." 
 
 "That," said the King's Lieutenant, politely and 
 with a slight smile, " Monsieur le Marquis must know 
 will not be permitted. No guest leaves us who does 
 not sign a paper in which he undertakes most solemnly 
 to divulge nothing of what has occurred within. He 
 would scarcely, therefore, be allowed to depart in such
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." 
 
 a garb as that in which Monsieur le Marquis is now 
 unhappily clad. Besides, the illustrious family of De 
 Chevagny is rich ; the head of the house will scarcely 
 adorn himself with such raiment when he goes back to 
 his proper position." 
 
 " Rich ! " the old man echoed with bitter scorn 
 
 " rich ! What have I to do with riches now ? If I find 
 not my wife or child, I shall not live a week in my un- 
 accustomed lot. A garret such as this will do well 
 enough for me." 
 
 The Lieutenant departed after this, saying that the 
 marquis as he was scrupulous now to call him on 
 every occasion might expect to be sent for early in 
 the evening; and those two, who had grown to be 
 such friends, sat down to pass what, with the excep- 
 tion of the night, would probably be their last hours 
 together. All was arranged between them as to what 
 was to be done on Elphinston's behalf when once De 
 Chevagny was free he was first to seek out his 
 mother and Kate, being careful to say nothing to the 
 latter about her husband and his end until he discov- 
 ered what she knew about him, and in any circum- 
 stances to be very discreet in what he revealed. Then 
 he was to strive in every way to bring Elphinston's 
 case before Tencin, so that something might be done 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 ' For," said Bertie, " never will I believe that when 
 once his Eminence knows that I have been thrust in 
 here under what must be, cannot help but be, a false 
 charge, a mistake, he will allow me to remain. Oh, 
 my friend, my friend, lose no time, I beseech you, in 
 releasing me from this death in life ! " 
 
 "Have no fear," replied De Chevagny, "I shall 
 remember. First your mother, Madame Elphinston,
 
 320 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 at Passy ; then to her who was that creature's wife ; 
 then then to the King or to what is his name ? 
 Tencin ! Tencin ! I shall not forget. Yet, oh, my 
 friend, how shall I leave you here alone ! And you 
 so young so young! Not yet in your prime." 
 
 "Fear not for me," replied Elphinston, assuming a 
 hopefulness he by no means felt; for he doubted if, 
 even with the Marquis de Chevagny at liberty and 
 free to plead his cause, his release was likely to be 
 obtained. If there was, indeed, as the King's Lieu- 
 tenant had hinted, some terrible and powerful enemy 
 in the background whom he had injured without know- 
 ing it, it was possible that even Tencin's exertions 
 and influence might be of no avail. Yet still he sought 
 to cheer the other. 
 
 " Fear not for me. Once you are free to bring my 
 case before the King I have no fear myself " then 
 he started, for he heard the clanging of the doors. 
 " Hark ! " he said, " hark ! They are coming for you. 
 Oh, I pray God that when you return from your ex- 
 amination you may do so with your liberty assured 
 as it must be ! As it must be! Otherwise they would 
 not send for you at all," and he kissed the old man's 
 hand as he spoke, and whispered to him to be calm. 
 
 "God bless you!" the marquis replied "God 
 bless you ! I will be brave." 
 
 As he did so the door was unlocked, and once 
 more the King's Lieutenant came in, accompanied by 
 four turnkeys, one of whom was Bluet, who behind 
 the officer's back kept gesticulating and nodding his 
 head and winking at Bertie who stood a little behind 
 De Chevagny in an extraordinaiy manner. 
 
 " The fellow had indeed a good heart," he thought 
 to himself, " which even the miseries he is witness of
 
 "A KIND OF CHANGE CAME IN MY FATE." 321 
 
 in this living hell are unable to suppress. One would 
 think that De Chevagny was his dearest friend, so 
 overjoyed is he." And still, as he reflected thus, 
 Bluet's grimaces and becks and nods continued. 
 
 " Rene Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de Che- 
 vagny," read out the King's Lieutenant from a paper 
 in his hand, " the Viscomte d'Argenson, Judge and 
 Examiner of his Majesty's fortresses, desires your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 "I I have waited the summons long," the mar- 
 quis said, with quiet dignity ; " I am ready to obey it." 
 
 And he turned round to touch Bertie's hand in a 
 temporary farewell, when again the voice of the King's 
 Lieutenant was heard reading from the paper: 
 
 " Elphinston baptismal name uncertain captain 
 of the Regiment of Picardy, formerly of the Regiment 
 of Scots Dutch " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Elphinston, dazed by being 
 summoned at last so unexpectedly, and also at the 
 last description " what ! " 
 
 " the Vicomte d'Argenson, Judge and Examiner 
 of his Majesty's fortresses, desires your presence." 
 
 " I, too, am ready," he replied in a low voice. 
 
 "Avancez!" said the Lieutenant, and at the word 
 the party left the calotte and descended the massive 
 stairs, the officer with two turnkeys leading the way, 
 while Bluet and another followed. 
 
 And as they went to the Hall of Judgment, Bertie 
 whispered to the marquis : 
 
 " I begin to understand. I know now why I have 
 been here so long. It was another Elphinston, not I, 
 who served in the Scots Dutch the Elphinston who 
 eloped with the daughter of the Due de Baufremont!"
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FREE. 
 
 WHEN the stairs had been descended, at the foot 
 of which were several soldiers who, as ever, removed 
 their hats and placed them before their faces so as not 
 to observe the prisoners, they passed through a little 
 door into a great court and, traversing this, entered 
 what was known and served as the arsenal or armoury. 
 There Bertie observed a number of gorgeously dressed 
 footmen and coachmen seated about, whom he sup- 
 posed to belong to the judges, as well as a number 
 of exempts and several messengers of the Bastille, 
 known to all Paris by the badge they wore a brass 
 plate, having on it an engraved club full of points and 
 spikes, with round it the motto " Monstrorum Terror" 
 most of whom, perhaps from long habit, regarded 
 the party very indifferently. Leaving this place be- 
 hind, they traversed another court, and then, after the 
 King's Lieutenant had struck three times on an iron- 
 studded door, they were admitted to a large, stately 
 hall well warmed and lighted. It was the hall known 
 as the Salle de Justice. 
 
 At one end of the hall, seated in great padded chairs 
 let into niches, were four judges clad in scarlet robes, 
 with huge wigs upon their heads, while one, who was 
 undoubtedly D'Argenson, wore above his wig a richly 
 laced three-cornered hat, as a symbol that he repre- 
 
 322
 
 FREE. 
 
 323 
 
 sented the sovereign. At his feet sat his registrar, 
 or secretary, with a long table before him covered 
 with a great crimson cloth that hung down to the 
 ground, and also with innumerable papers, while at 
 either end of the table stood sergeants-at-arms with 
 maces. In the midst of the court, or hall, near to 
 these, was a railed-in space, within it two small wooden 
 stools, and to these the sergeants motioned that both 
 De Chevagny and Bertie should approach, while, as 
 they did so, the registrar handed up to each of the 
 judges papers which were copies of the interrogato- 
 ries about to be administered. At another table, with 
 some papers also before him, sat De Launey, shiver- 
 ing and shaking and smiling in exactly the same way 
 that Bertie had seen him do more than two years ago. 
 Poor wretch ! smiles and shivers were alike to be 
 soon over for him now ; in another few months the 
 worst form of paralysis was to end his life. 
 
 As De Chevagny and Bertie took their seats upon 
 the stools in the inclosure, the judges half rose and 
 bowed to them (a ceremony always observed, except 
 when the worst class of detenus were brought before 
 them), and, on their salutation being returned, D'Argen- 
 son, glancing down his paper of interrogatories, pre- 
 pared to address De Chevagny, the first on his list. 
 This judge, who sat as president, and was reported to 
 work harder than any other twenty men in the 
 French King's service, sitting, indeed, in the law 
 courts during the whole of each day, and being able, 
 consequently, to only make his examinations of the 
 prisons at night, was a strange man to observe. His 
 complexion was as swarthy as a mulatto's, his eyes 
 enormously large and black, his eyebrows each as big 
 as an ordinary man's moustache, while his reputation
 
 324 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 for austerity had spread through the whole kingdom. 
 Yet he possessed also, in contradistinction to his ap- 
 pearance, a voice as soft and sweet as a girl's, or De 
 Launey's own, and hands one of which, covered 
 with brilliants, generally lay extended on the desk be- 
 fore him as white as marble. 
 
 " Monsieur the Marquis de Chevagny," he began 
 now while as he did so the old man rose from the 
 stool and faced him as he leaned upon the rail " Mon- 
 sieur de Chevagny, you have been a resident in this 
 fortress for a long period. I perceive you came 
 here on the 3oth of January, 1704," and the silvery 
 tones ceased for a moment as though awaiting an 
 answer. 
 
 " It is true," De Chevagny replied, " true." And 
 he bent his head. 
 
 " The charge against you was the writing of a con- 
 tumelious lampoon upon the then Marquise de la Val- 
 liere and holding her up to contempt and derision. For 
 that the lettre de cachet concerning you was signed by 
 by a then illustrious personage. That letter was an 
 open one, unlimited as to the continuance of its 
 effect " 
 
 " The charge was true," murmured the marquis, 
 " the punishment cruel beyond all thought." 
 
 " Monsieur le Marquis," interposed the judge, 
 while his voice sounded even sweeter, more silvery 
 than before, " I must remind you of what doubtless 
 in the passage of years you have forgotten : There 
 must be no criticism here, no discussion of those who 
 are, or once were, all-powerful. Monsieur, I repre- 
 sent the King's Majesty ; let me beg of you to offend 
 unintentionally, no doubt no more." 
 
 He paused a moment, and it seemed as if some
 
 FREE. 225 
 
 bird had ceased to warble its innocent notes ; then he 
 continued : 
 
 " The family of La Valliere is now practically ex- 
 tinct. The King, in his sublime goodness, is therefore 
 pleased to ordain that you shall no longer be asked to 
 remain here. Monsieur le Marquis de Chevagny, per- 
 mit me to congratulate you. You may depart at any 
 time most convenient to you." 
 
 The old man raised his hand to his long white 
 beard and stroked it thoughtfully for a moment ; then 
 he, in his clear aristocratic tones, replied : 
 
 " You congratulate me, monsieur, on what ? On a 
 wasted, ruined life, perhaps ; a prison for forty-five 
 years ; an existence given me by God and taken away 
 by man ; a home desolated ; a broken heart nay, two, 
 if not three, broken hearts ; and all for what ? A 
 youthful folly, a joke made in the exuberance of a 
 young man's spirit. Oh, monsieur, spare me your 
 congratulations! If you were even born when I first 
 came here, think, think of the passage of those years, 
 think of what lives you have known, think of the use 
 they have been put to, and then reflect on mine. 
 Surely your congratulations are the last bitter drop." 
 
 " Monsieur de Chevagny," replied the judge, " I 
 must not argue with you. Yet one word I will say: 
 I had no part in sending you here ; my share is only to 
 tell you that you are free." And he took up in his 
 jewelled hand a fresh batch of papers, and, stooping 
 forward, whispered something to the registrar. 
 
 As the old man tottered back to the stool he had 
 risen from, that functionary said : 
 
 " Elphinston, captain of the Regiment of Picardy, 
 formerly of the Regiment of Scots Dutch, answer to 
 your name."
 
 326 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " My name," said Bertie, advancing to the rail and 
 standing as the marquis had previously stood, " is 
 Elphinston, and I am of the Regiment of Picardy. I 
 never served in the Scots Dutch Regiment." 
 
 With an almost imperceptible start D'Argenson 
 bent his dark, luminous eyes on him, as did all the 
 other judges, who had sat like dead men in their seats, 
 while De Launey, with the King's Lieutenant and the 
 registrar, also cast surprised looks on him. 
 
 "You say that you were never in the regiment of 
 Scots Dutch, monsieur?" asked D'Argenson, still 
 holding the papers in his hand and glancing at them ; 
 " what, then, is your nom de bapteme? " 
 
 "Bertie." 
 
 The judge glanced again at the papers, then he 
 conferred for a moment with the other judges, and 
 then spoke again : 
 
 " Pardon us our ignorance of your Scotch name, 
 monsieur; but this name 'Bertie' we do not know it. 
 Albert we know, but not Bertie. Is that the whole 
 name, or a part of one an abbreviation ? " 
 
 " My name is Bertie, tout court." 
 
 The white hand of the judge rubbed his chin softly, 
 and he said : 
 
 " You were never in the Scots Dutch Regiment ? 
 And, par exemple, you will perhaps also tell us if you 
 are the husband of Mademoiselle de Baufremont, 
 daughter of the duke of that name." 
 
 " I am not. I am the husband of no woman." 
 
 A visible stir went through the others in the Salle 
 de Justice at these words, while D'Argenson shrugged 
 his shoulders. Then, sweetly as ever, he continued: 
 
 " There are many noble Scotch gentlemen serving 
 his Majesty. Would it be known to you if there were
 
 any others of your name your family name in the 
 army ? " 
 
 " I know of one other," Bertie replied. "He was 
 in the Scots Dutch." 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed D'Argenson. " And his first 
 name, what is that ? " 
 
 "Basil." 
 
 D'Argenson threw down his papers and for several 
 minutes conferred again with the other judges; and 
 during the time he did so Bertie could not but muse 
 on how the Bastille and its accursed uses had been lent 
 to one more crime, one more mistake that was in itself 
 a crime. For that he had suffered for the man who 
 was his namesake there could now be no doubt; the 
 only wonder in his mind was that it had never occurred 
 to him before, never dawned upon him That such was 
 the case. And now he only prayed that the judges 
 might never have it come to their knowledge that, 
 innocently enough, he had rendered assistance to that 
 other Elphinston. 
 
 "God knows," he mused, "that I have suffered 
 sufficiently already by doing so ; 'twas through that 
 assistance that I lost my love ; surely I shall not also 
 have to suffer further; surely the Duke de Baufre- 
 mont's vengeance will not be permitted to still fall 
 heavily on me." And once more he prayed that his 
 share in the transaction might not be known. 
 
 Then D'Argenson spoke again : 
 
 " Monsieur le Capitaine" he said, <; your answers to 
 my interrogatories appear to show that, by grave 
 misfortune, you have been confused with another 
 man. Such errors are always to be regretted; nay, 
 more, when they have been made, it is always the cus- 
 tom of his Majesty a most gracious sovereign ! to
 
 328 DENOUNCED. 
 
 make atonement for them and to nobly recompense 
 those who have been injured. I shall to-morrow take 
 steps to ratify your statement : if I find it accurate, 
 you may expect to go away from here in a very short 
 time. His Majesty will sign your acquittance at once. 
 You will be free." 
 
 " Sir," replied Bertie, " I might have been free two 
 years and a half ago, might never have suffered this 
 long misery while much other misery might have also 
 been spared to those whom I love and who love me 
 had this examination taken place when I was first 
 brought here." 
 
 " Doubtless," D'Argenson replied coldly. " But 
 the laws of France have their mode of procedure and 
 cannot be altered for any case in particular. Monsieur 
 le Capitaine, ytmr examination is concluded," and turn- 
 ing to his brother judges, he said, as he rose: 
 
 " Mes freres, la seance est terminee." 
 
 Of what use was it, Bertie asked himself as he and 
 De Chevagny were conducted back to the calotte, to 
 rage or fret against this legal wall of adamant ? As 
 well hurl one's self against a rock and hope to make 
 an impression on it. For a fault not his own, he had 
 been forced to endure two years and more of miser- 
 able imprisonment, and now, by chance alone, he was 
 likely to be set free. 
 
 Yet the very word "free " sent his blood dancing 
 and tingling in his veins once more ; it brought to him 
 the happy hope of seeing his mother, his beloved Kate 
 again. And when he saw her, there would be no fur- 
 ther barrier between them ; she, too, was free free to 
 become his wife. Then, at last, their long vexations 
 would be over at last at last ! 
 
 " Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, mes
 
 3 2 9 
 
 en/ants" said Bluet to them when once more they 
 were back in the calotte, " it will not be for long now. 
 Meanwhile, to-morrow, I will see if I cannot snatch 
 from that villainous cellarer a bottle of the best vin de 
 Brecquiny wherewith to celebrate your sortie. And I 
 though I am but a poor drinker at best will drink 
 to your happy restoration to your friends and fami- 
 lies." 
 
 As the turnkey had said, so it happened. From 
 the next morning their meals were improved ; the best 
 wine was served to them ; everything gave promise 
 that their imprisonment was at an end. One morning 
 which was the third day from their examination by 
 D'Argenson Bluet, accompanied by another turnkey, 
 came in, bearing a large basket, in which was a quan- 
 tity of new linen, with some ruffles and lace for both 
 of them. Then, next, the tailor was brought in to 
 prepare a plain but serviceable suit for the marquis, 
 and also to repair Bertie's clothes, his suit being, 
 though much used, still wearable. And, to complete 
 all, Bluet arrived on another morning with the neces- 
 sary implements for cutting and trimming their hair 
 and beards, which, with the exception of the atten- 
 tions they had been able to render each other with a 
 rusty pair of scissors they had discovered imbedded 
 in the filth of the floor, had not been done at all since 
 the younger prisoner had been there. 
 
 "Avec fa!" exclaimed their cheerful janitor, "mes- 
 sieurs will go forth into the world again as though to 
 a fete or a wedding. Ma foil Monsieur le Marquis, 
 you look not fifty years of age. You will both do 
 very well. Ah, but the brave day is at hand ! " 
 
 And at last it came. One evening, a week now 
 after the judge had pronounced that the Marquis de
 
 330 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Chevagny might go back to life, and had said that the 
 Captain Elphinston might cherish hopes of doing so, 
 the King's Lieutenant again made his appearance in 
 the calotte, unaccompanied this time by anyone but 
 Bluet, for the purpose of unbarring the doors. 
 
 " Messieurs," he said, " have the goodness to ac- 
 company me to the Salle de Justice. The commissary 
 attends you to hand to you your permission de sortie. 
 You will depart to-morrow, if it so pleases you." 
 
 Rising, they followed him through all the pas- 
 sages and courts as before, and arrived at the great 
 hall. Here they observed that the judges were not 
 again present, but in their place, and seated at the 
 scarlet-draped table of the judges' registrar was the 
 commissary, a little, old, wizened man, who bowed to 
 them as they entered. 
 
 " Be seated, I beg," he said, motioning them to 
 two chairs placed in front of him two fauteuils very 
 different in appearance and comfort from the stools 
 that had previously been accorded them ; and when 
 they had done so, he instantly read from two papers 
 before him : 
 
 4< Rene Xavier Ru de Chevagny, Marquis de 
 Chevagny," he began ; " his Majesty, King Louis 
 XV, graciously accords you this his permission to 
 depart out of this fortress, the Bastille, from this 
 present moment. This permission I now hand to you 
 as a certificate of his Majesty's gracious goodness." 
 Here he held the paper out over the table to the old 
 man, who took it from him without uttering one word. 
 Then the commissary continued: "And in considera- 
 tion of your having been unable to attend to your 
 own interests, properties, and estates of late, his 
 Majesty ordains that you may draw upon the captain
 
 331 
 
 of this his fortress, Monsieur Jourdan de Launey, for 
 a sum not exceeding fifty Louis d'ors, for your present 
 expenses, to be by you recouped later on." 
 
 "I I want nothing," De Chevagny began, when, 
 as he did so, his eye fell upon Bluet standing near 
 and behind the King's Lieutenant, and remembering 
 all the fellow's kindness to him kindness which he 
 
 had never been under any obligation to show he 
 
 ceased what he was saying; while the commissary 
 continued : 
 
 " From this moment you are at liberty to depart. 
 Monsieur le Marquis you will consult your own pleas- 
 ure as to when you do so." 
 
 Then turning to Bertie and addressing him, he 
 again read out the rigmarole about "his Majesty's 
 gracious goodness," and handed to him his certificate 
 of freedom. And also he informed him that he, too, 
 could draw on De Launey for fifty Louis d'ors, to be 
 recorded later on. 
 
 " If, monsieur," Bertie exclaimed, however, at this, 
 " I draw them, I know not how they are ever to be re- 
 funded. I was an officer in the French King's army 
 when I was brought here. I can scarcely suppose I 
 am one now. When I quit this prison I am as like as 
 not to be a beggar in the streets. This incarceration 
 has stolen my life from me for two years ; now I am 
 free, its effect will be to deprive me of the means 
 whereby to live in the future." 
 
 11 Monsieur le Capitaine, I think not. I am author- 
 ized to tell you that a commission in his Majesty's 
 service will still be provided for you, in consequence 
 of your residence here being due to a slight mis- 
 take." 
 
 " So be it," said Bertie ; " I rejoice to hear that so 
 
 22
 
 332 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 much justice will be done to me." Yet, as he spoke, 
 he took a vow that never more would he serve the 
 French King, never more draw sword for a country in 
 which such errors could happen as that which had im- 
 prisoned him for those two years. 
 
 " Now," said the commissary, " you must please 
 to sign these papers, and to swear upon your honours 
 that you will neither reveal, when outside this fortress, 
 any of the situations of the various chambers, apart- 
 ments, towers, halls, or courts of which you have ob- 
 tained any knowledge, nor the names of any other 
 persons here with which you have become acquainted 
 in any way. Also you must, upon your honours, state 
 that yooi carry no messages from anyone within this 
 fortress to anyone whatsoever outside of it, either 
 written or verbal. And when you do go forth at the 
 time it shall please you, you will also sign another 
 paper stating that you have been deprived of nothing, 
 neither money, clothes, jewellery, nor trinkets of which 
 you were in possession when you arrived." 
 
 De Chevagny shrugged his shoulders as he an- 
 swered : 
 
 " I may sign with safety. I have no recollection 
 of anything I had about me when I came here in the 
 year 1704. I know not what I had. And what matters 
 it ? What matters it ? " 
 
 "As forme," said Elphinston, "I had but a few 
 gold pieces in my purse when I came here, and they 
 have been exhausted long ago in payment for my bed. 
 There can be nothing left; and if there is, I want it 
 not." 
 
 That night, however, both he and De Chevagny 
 decided to draw each upon De Launey for ten Louis 
 
 s, with which to reward the faithful Bluet, and also
 
 333 
 
 for such was the custom even in this hateful place- 
 to give a treat to the turnkeys. So, ere they slept for 
 the last time in their miserable chamber, these men 
 were called in, and, bringing with them various sorts 
 of wine, chocolate, pasties, and ratafias, were rewarded 
 also with pieces of money, while they drank to the 
 health of those whom they termed the "parting 
 guests." 
 
 One other had, however, to be taken a sad farewell 
 of one whom there was no likelihood of their ever 
 meeting again in this world the unhappy Genevese, 
 Falmy. At daybreak Bertie was at the window look' 
 ing for him, and a few moments later he appeared at 
 his; and the tears streamed down the former's eyes 
 so as almost to blind him as for the last time he sent 
 his message across to the opposite tower. " Farewell ! 
 I leave with De Chevagny," he signalled. " God ever 
 bless you, and may He at last release you ! Is there 
 no message for anyone outside?" For, in spite of 
 the promise he had given to take none from any 
 prisoner, he felt absolved from it when he thought of 
 the bitter agony of those incarcerated still. Indeed, 
 such was the feeling of all who went forth from that 
 living death. 
 
 But Falmy shook his head sadly; then, listlessly, as 
 though hopeless and heartbroken, he signalled back, 
 " None ; I have no friends. If I ever had any, they are 
 dead or have forgotten me. Farewell ! " and, with a 
 look upon his face that Bertie never forgot, he left the 
 window. 
 
 Down through the corridors and passages they 
 passed, away through the corps de garde, with, for the 
 last time, their laced hats held before their faces, until 
 they reached the wicket and so to the great gates
 
 334 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 which opened to admit their exit. And a moment 
 later, as the great clock struck nine above their 
 heads, they stood outside the prison walls.* They 
 were free ! 
 
 * The Bastille.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. 
 
 THE turnkey had provided a fiacre for them, and 
 into this they stepped from the outside of the great 
 gate, while Bluet ; looking as sad as though he were 
 parting for ever from his dearest friends, asked where 
 the man should be instructed to drive them to ? 
 Strange to say, neither had given any thought to this 
 matter, though, had Bertie been alone, no considera- 
 tion would have been necessary on the subject. His 
 mother's house would have been his destination ; for, 
 although often and often in his misery he had mused 
 on whether she was still alive, and on whether she 
 would ever fold him in her arms again, nothing would 
 have kept him from going straight to Passy and at 
 once resolving his doubts. 
 
 But now, with De Chevagny by his side a poor 
 old man cast back into an unknown world after nearly 
 half a century's exclusion from it he could not leave 
 him; he must be his first consideration. 
 
 " Dear friend," he said, while still Bluet stood by 
 the coach door, " have you thought of where we shall 
 proceed to? Will you go to your own home first, or 
 come to mine if if God ! if I have any left there. 
 At least we will not part or not now, not now." 
 
 The poor, old marquis wrapped the dark blue cloak 
 they had provided him with around him as the other 
 
 335
 
 336 DENOUNCED. 
 
 spoke, for the December morning, although bright 
 and sunny, was cold and crisp, then he said, " Home ! 
 to my home? What home have I ?" 
 
 "Man Dieu!" exclaimed Bluet, consoling to the 
 last, "sans doute, a beautiful home. Monsieur must 
 well remember even I, a prison watch-dog, have 
 heard of it the Hotel de Chevagny. Monsieur will 
 doubtless go there. And, parbleu ! when I have a 
 day's release from my labours, I shall make a little 
 visit to the marquis. He will be glad to see his old 
 friend and servant, Bluet N ' est ce fas ? " 
 
 " Yes," the marquis whispered, dazed, as it seemed 
 to the others, by his freedom " yes, I shall always be 
 glad to see you, Bluet. Let us go let us go," and 
 he held out his hand to the turnkey, as did Bertie. 
 
 " Hotel de Chevagny," said Bluet to the driver ; 
 "you know it without doubt. Away with you to the 
 house of the noble marquis ! " 
 
 " De Chevagny ! " said the man from his box " De 
 Chevagny ! No, I know it not. What is the quarter ? " 
 
 "St. Germain, naturally. Monsieur," looking in 
 again at the window, " the name of the street of 
 the street, monsieur?" he repeated, seeing that the 
 marquis appeared to scarcely understand him. But a 
 moment later he muttered : 
 
 "The Rue Charles Martel. That is it." 
 
 "Bon!" said the coachman, he having caught the 
 words "ban! Rue Charles Martel," and as once more 
 Bluet exchanged farewells with them, he lashed his 
 horse and drove off, while De Chevagny cast one last 
 look on the Bastille and shuddered. 
 
 "Forty-five years," he murmured, " forty-five years. 
 A young man when I entered there, an old man now 
 worn out and near his end."
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. 337 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Bertie, " do not think so. Re- 
 member, you may find many alive who are still dear to 
 you. Let us pray so at least." 
 
 But the marquis, burying his head in the collar of 
 his cloak, spoke no more, though Bertie, regarding him 
 from time to time, saw that he was gazing out and ob- 
 serving the places they passed by ; and as they trav- 
 ersed the Pont Neuf, he observed a brighter look in 
 his face than he had hitherto seen. " This, at least, 
 has not changed," he muttered. " It is the same as 
 when I was young as when I passed over it to go to 
 the Bastille. Forty-five years ago ! forty-five years 
 ago ! " 
 
 Presently for it was no great distance from the 
 Quartier St. Antoine to that of St. Germain the 
 hackney coach arrived at the end of the Rue Charles 
 Martel ; a long, sad-looking street, having high walls 
 all along it into which were set great wooden gates, 
 and behind which were large courtyards belonging to 
 the various mansions or hotels of the nobility. Yet, 
 as they entered this street and observed a large, 
 modern, and very gaunt-looking house, De Chevagny 
 seemed more bewildered than ever, and raised his 
 finger to his forehead as though confused. 
 
 l_I_do not understand," he said. " Has the 
 man mistaken the way? Bellancourt's house stood 
 here years ago when I was a lad. I have played in 
 the gardens often oh, so often, with his children ! 
 It was an old, old house, built in the days of Henri of 
 Navarre. Where is it ? That is not it." 
 
 "This is a new building," replied Bertie; "is it 
 not possible the present owner may have removed the 
 old one to make way for this ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes,"-De Chevagny whispered -"yes, it is
 
 338 DENOUNCED. 
 
 forty-five years ago. I should have remembered. 
 Forty-five years ago. And sixty since I played under 
 the cedars in the garden. My God ! " 
 
 The hackney carriage rolled along slowly, for in 
 this old-fashioned street the road, like so many in 
 Paris in those days, was far from good, and a slight 
 thaw had now set in which rendered it particularly 
 heavy. Then, looking out, the marquis pointed to an 
 antique mansion the roofs of which could be seen be- 
 hind the walls. 
 
 " See," he said excitedly, " see, it is the house of 
 De Montpouillan, the man whom the King delighted 
 to honour ! I was at a ball there three nights before I 
 was taken, and he Louis, the Grand Monarque was 
 there too. He danced in the ballet * with the daughter 
 of St. Hillaire, a blonde whose hair shone like the 
 gold of a new Louis (Tor. Man Dieu ! observe there 
 is a hatchment over the house. Someone is dead." 
 
 Again Bertie tried to soothe him by reminding him 
 that, whomsoever it might be, he could scarcely have 
 known them after his long and terrible absence ; yet 
 this consolation, unhappy as it was, only served to 
 remind him of his own sad fate and to set him once 
 more murmuring, " Forty-five years ! " 
 
 But a moment afterwards he gave a gasp a cry, 
 indeed and exclaimed : 
 
 " My house ! my house ! See, see, it is there ! " and 
 called feebly to the driver to stop. 
 
 Above the walls Bertie could perceive the red tiles 
 
 * The ballets in which the French kings, and Louis XIV in par- 
 ticular, frequently danced, were more in the style of a minuet than 
 anything else. There is a picture in the Luxembourg of one being, 
 performed, with Louis taking part in it and representing Le 
 Printemps,
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. 
 
 of a long, low hotel ; could observe also that in many 
 places some of those tiles had fallen away and left 
 great gaps yawning; and also that the whole gave 
 signs of being in a ruinous condition. The huge, 
 double wooden gates hung loosely on their hinges, 
 while one or two beams in them bulged inward from 
 rottenness and the lock, once large and handsome 
 and a triumph of the smith's art, was rusted and 
 almost fallen from its wooden socket. 
 
 "Alas ! alas ! " thought Elphinston to himself, " it 
 is not here that he will find his wife or child. He 
 must look farther for them perhaps in heaven ! 
 who knows ? Poor De Chevagny poor, unhappy 
 man ! " 
 
 There hung a great iron bell-handle on the side of 
 the vast door, and the marquis, grasping it, rang a peal 
 that could be heard echoing in the house itself across 
 the courtyard a peal that met with no response. 
 Then they waited for a minute or two, the marquis 
 leaning on Bertie's arm and gazing up wistfully into 
 his face, as though seeking to read therein what his 
 thoughts might be, and the driver staring over the 
 wall at the unshuttered and uncurtained windows. 
 
 "Mon Dieu ! " the man muttered to himself so that 
 they could not hear him, "after having dwelt in the 
 palais des grenouilles* so long, it is not strange if the 
 master is no more expected," and he cracked his whip 
 vigorously as though hoping, perhaps, to thereby at- 
 tract some attention from within. 
 
 Still the old man looked up sadly at his com- 
 panion's face, and muttered, " My home, my home ! " 
 
 f 
 
 * A derisive name sometimes applied to the Bastille, especially 
 by the lower classes in Paris.
 
 340 DENOUNCED. 
 
 so ruefully that the other had to turn away from him 
 so that he should not see his eyes ; and then Bertie, 
 seizing the bell handle, rang a strong, lusty peal 
 upon it. 
 
 " If there is anyone here," he said, " that should 
 arouse them. The bell has a tongue that might wake 
 the dead ! " 
 
 He could have bitten his own tongue out a moment 
 later, for at his words, especially the last one, De 
 Chevagny started, and then muttered, " The dead 
 the dead. Ah ! it is the dead who never come back 
 to us. They are gone. All are gone ! When shall 
 we meet again ? Never, never, never ! " 
 
 As though in answer to that question which his 
 own weary heart had answered for itself, a door was 
 heard to open in the front of the house it creaked 
 wofully on its hinges and then steps were also heard 
 upon the stones of the courtyard, the steps of some- 
 one in sabots, and next the key was turned in the 
 rusty lock and one half of the great gate pulled 
 back ; following upon which, a woman of about forty 
 years of age appeared at the doorway, and, after re- 
 garding the fiacre and the young man with the old 
 one now leaning so heavily on his arm, asked them 
 what they desired. 
 
 " To come into my own house," said the latter, 
 looking at her, though he could see at once that she 
 had been born since he last stood upon that spot. " I 
 am the Marquis de Chevagny." 
 
 She was not an uncomely-looking woman, neither 
 did she appear hard nor severe; still she answered, 
 with a look of suspicion in her face : 
 
 "There is no Marquis de Chevagny. The title 
 exists no longer."
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. ^l 
 
 " Yet," said the old man feebly, " I am he. This 
 is my house. Woman, I have but left the Bastille an 
 hour ago. I have been a prisoner there for forty-five 
 years." 
 
 She took a step backward, as though to regard 
 him more particularly, while her brow wrinkled a little 
 and her colour came and went, as she exclaimed, " My 
 God, it is not possible ! -" 
 
 "It is true," he said. "I pray you let me enter. 
 I am very old and feeble older than even I should 
 be by my years and and this is my house. Do not 
 refuse me ! " 
 
 " Enter,"' the woman said, pulling wider open the 
 door. " And this monsieur," glancing at Bertie, 
 " who is he ?" 
 
 " I also have been a prisoner in the Bastille, 
 though for only a short space of time in comparison 
 with his. I beseech you," he said, sinking his voice 
 to a whisper, " answer him very gently especially 
 when he asks you of of his family." 
 
 " I understand," the woman said in return as she 
 walked by their side across the courtyard, in which 
 one or two fowls were strutting about " I under- 
 stand. Is he truly the marquis ? " 
 
 " He is, indeed." 
 
 " God help him ! " and as she spoke, they reached 
 the door of the house. 
 
 They entered a great hall with a tiled floor and, 
 above it at the back, a window of stained glass, some 
 panes of which were broken a hall in which there 
 was no furniture except a plain oaken bench, that 
 looked as though it had been used to chop wood 
 upon; and on to this the Marquis de Chevagny 
 sank, exhausted already, while Bertie, saddened at
 
 342 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 such a home-coming as this, stood by to cheer and 
 comfort him if possible. 
 
 " This is not as I left it," the old man said as his 
 glance roved round the spacious but empty hall. 
 " Has there been no one to guard it ? " Then, as 
 though such trifles were unworthy of consideration, he 
 asked eagerly, while a strange light shone from his 
 eyes : " I had a wife, a child, when they took me from 
 here. Are they they still alive ? " 
 
 " Is it possible monsieur does not know ? " 
 
 " Know ! What should I know ? Woman, I tell 
 you 1 have been dead to the world for forty-five years 
 buried alive in a place to which no news ever conies. 
 Where," he continued, " where are my wife and child ? " 
 
 "Alas! monsieur," she said, seeming while she 
 spoke as though endeavouring to avoid answering 
 him, " I have heard of you from my father ; he was 
 garde chasse at the Chateau de Chevagny many years 
 ago." 
 
 " Lenoir ! Was he your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, but he has been dead these twenty 
 years ; and then " 
 
 " My wife and child ! " he interrupted " my wife 
 and child ! Are they dead, too ?" 
 
 " Alas ! monsieur, I never saw Madame la Mar- 
 quise. She she died the year I was born." . 
 
 De Chevagny straightened himself upon the bench 
 as he did so there came to Bertie's recollection how 
 his own father had so straightened himself as he died in 
 his arms a few years before, and he wondered why he 
 recalled that incident at this moment then the mar- 
 quis said : 
 
 " The year you were born ? How old are you ?" 
 
 " Forty-one, monsieur."
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. 343 
 
 " Forty-one ! " he whispered, " forty-one ! So ! she 
 lived four years. Four years. And I I have been 
 hoping, praying O God ! how I have prayed ! to 
 see her again to see her again, while for forty-one 
 years she has been lying in her grave in her grave ! " 
 
 He paused awhile, perhaps because he heard the 
 sobs of Bertie and the woman mingling with his own ; 
 then he said : 
 
 " And the little child my dear, dear little babe ! 
 Is is she dead, too ? " 
 
 " Non, monsieur at least I think not. She " 
 
 "Thank God!" 
 
 " She married, very young, the Vicomte de Brunet," 
 the woman answered through her tears, "and went 
 with him to Guadeloupe; and sometimes, at inter- 
 vals, she writes to her friends in Paris, and they send 
 me news of her. Also, she has once written to me." 
 
 " And she is well ? Has she children of her own, 
 perhaps ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur. Her marriage has not been so 
 blessed by the bon Dieu ! " 
 
 He sat thinking awhile, meditating deeply ere he 
 spoke again ; then he said : 
 
 " But this house and the chateau they were good 
 properties ; we have drawn large sums from them for 
 generations. Who takes the rents, the produce, now- 
 to whom do they belong ? " 
 
 "To the state, I have heard, monsieur; to the 
 King ; though, it is said, in trust only. Yet, I know 
 not. I cannot say. But I suppose so. Twice annu- 
 ally a monsieur comes from the minister of the King 
 to visit us, and twice, also, I hear, one visits the cha- 
 teau. If all has been saved for you, monsieur, during 
 your long absence, you should be very rich."
 
 344 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Rich," he repeated " rich ! very rich ! Yes, 
 yes, very rich." Then, turning on the woman sud- 
 denly, almost fiercely for him, he asked : 
 
 "Where where, do you know did my wife die? 
 Where did my little child live until she married ? If 
 the state, the King, took possession of my property, 
 they would not let them stay here nor at the chateau." 
 
 " Madame la Marquise went back to stay with her 
 father after monsieur had gone away. Mademoiselle 
 de Chevagny lived with him also until she married." 
 Then, observing that the old man looked even more 
 feeble and drawn than she had at first noticed, she 
 said : " But, monsieur, do not stay here in this cold 
 hall. Come into the saloon, I beg of you. There is no 
 fire, but I can soon make one. Come, monsieur, come." 
 
 Slowly leaning on Bertie's arm, he rose at her be- 
 hest and now the latter perceived that he weighed 
 more heavily on him than before and, all together, 
 they went into a fair-sized salon, or morning-room, to 
 the left of the corridor ; while the woman, preceding 
 them, made haste to open the window shutters and to 
 let a flood of light from the wintry sun pour into the 
 room. 
 
 It seemed to have been left much as it must have 
 been in those long-past years, when so dreadful a doom 
 had fallen upon that unhappy family perhaps had 
 scarcely undergone any alteration since those days. 
 Upon the walls there hung several pictures: one, of a 
 man in half armour, bearing a strong resemblance to 
 him who now tottered on Bertie's arm ; another, of an 
 elderly woman, of a long anterior date; a third, of a 
 young man in all the bravery of the rich apparel of 
 Louis XIV's date, a young man with bright blue eyes 
 and a joyous smile De Chevagny himself. Also,
 
 THE MARQUIS GOES HOME. 
 
 345 
 
 there were many chairs, none very comfortable, since, 
 fifty years before this time, comfortable chairs were 
 almost unknown articles ; a table or so and a tabouret ; 
 also a woman's worktable in a corner by the fireplace 
 with, above it, a painting of a fair young girl with a 
 soft, gentle expression, done in what was, at the period 
 in which it was painted, quite a new style the style of 
 Antoine Watteau and much embellished with a rural 
 landscape behind the portrait. 
 
 With a gasp, a cry of recognition, De Chevagny 
 regarded this portrait in the light of the thin Decem- 
 ber sun, and then, leaning now so heavily on Bertie's 
 arm as to be almost entirely held up and supported by 
 him, he exclaimed : 
 
 " See ! see ! She has come back to me ; we have 
 met again ! Again, Jeanne, my love, my wife, my 
 dear ! O Jeanne, Jeanne, we shall be so happy now ! " 
 
 The woman and Bertie regarded each other sig- 
 nificantly, though neither could speak from emotion, 
 while De Chevagny addressed the latter, saying: 
 
 " See ! there is the table where nightly she sits and 
 works, making little things for the child that is to come 
 the babe that shall make us so happy. Here," and 
 he put his finger on a gilt nail by the chimney-piece, 
 " where she hangs her workbasket at night ; here," and 
 he pointed to a low stool, "where I sit by her side and 
 tell her all I have done at the court." 
 
 He broke off, and appeared to be listening. 
 
 " Hark ! " he said, ' hark ! It is striking eleven we 
 are going to bed the great cloche is ringing; there is 
 a noise in the courtyard. God ! " he screamed, "it is 
 full of torches; the exempts are there; they have 
 come to seize me to drag me to the Bastille to part 
 us ! Hide ! oh, hide me ! "
 
 346 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " Courage, courage, dear friend," said Bertie, sooth- 
 ingly, as he held him in his arms, and noticed once 
 again how heavy and inert his poor form was " cour- 
 age, courage! They will never come for you again. 
 You are free forever now. Dispel these illusions. Be 
 brave." 
 
 " Free," he repeated, " free ! " and his wandering 
 blue eyes sought Bertie's once more, while in them 
 there was again that wistful look which so wrung his 
 heart. " Free ! yes, I am free ! " and as he spoke he 
 released himself from Elphinston's grasp and flung 
 himself upon his knees before his wife's picture. 
 
 "My darling," he murmured, gazing up at it, " ma 
 mignonne, we shall never part more. I am free ! free ! 
 free ! And so happy ! oh, so happy ! " and he clasped 
 his hands together and bent over the low chair before 
 the picture. And once again he looked up and mur- 
 mured, " So so happy now ! " 
 
 When at last they ventured to speak to him, and, 
 getting no answer, to raise his head, they saw upon his 
 face so sweet and placid a smile that, remembering all, 
 Bertie would not have wished to call him back to the 
 world in which he had suffered so much.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." 
 
 IT was the night of Monday, the roth of December, 
 1748, and once again all Paris lay under the snow 
 snow that hung in great masses over the eaves of the 
 houses, threatening, when the next thaw should come, 
 to fall and envelop the passers-by ; that was caked 
 and hardened on the chauss&es of all the streets by the 
 recent hard frost; that, out on the quays, was of the 
 consistency of iron almost from the same cause; while, 
 so severe had that frost been, that on the river the 
 snow had been frozen into huge solid blocks, which 
 swirled round and round in vast masses as, under the 
 stars, they floated slowly down towards the open 
 country and the sea. 
 
 There were but few abroad on this cold night, cer- 
 tainly few pedestrians; yet, as the clocks from Notre 
 Dame and all the other churches round struck eleven, 
 there was one who, swiftly making his way along the 
 Quai des The"atins, directly opposite the Louvre, 
 seemed neither to he'ed the cold nor the snow beneath 
 his feet. Wrapped in a long cloak, or roquelaure, 
 held up sufficiently, however, not to impede his limbs 
 in their stride, and with his three-cornered hat pressed 
 down closely over his head, this man, without turning 
 round to regard even the few casual passers-by, went 
 onward until, as he neared the edge of the quay, on 
 23 347
 
 348 DENOUNCED. 
 
 which stood a large, imposing hotel, from the windows 
 of which issued a blaze of lights, he suddenly stopped 
 in amazement i for outside this great mansion there 
 was what he least would have expected to see a large 
 concourse of people assembled together, indiscrimi- 
 nately mixed with whom were exempts, other officers 
 of police, and a considerable body of soldiers, as well 
 as several sergeants of the grenadiers clad in their 
 cuirasses and skullcaps. Also he saw a number of 
 musketeers (or horse guards) standing by their horses 
 ready to mount them, as well as several of the guets, 
 or street watchmen, near them ; while, to make this 
 concourse more astonishing to those who did not 
 know what might be its object, in the road were half 
 a dozen scaling ladders, with, by them, several of the 
 guets, with axes and hammers in their hands. 
 
 But that which was more astonishing for him to 
 behold than aught else was that between the ordinary 
 people or onlookers in the streets and the officials, 
 civil and military, who stood in front of the mansion, 
 was stretched as a barrier a thick, handsome, crimson 
 silk cord fringed with gold. This cord, attached to 
 gilt poles or staves about four feet high, served with 
 the hotel itself to form an exact square, the house 
 making the fourth side ; and inside that square itself 
 it was that the musketeers, sergeants of the grena- 
 diers, and superior officers of the police were standing, 
 as well as several other officers of high rank, as testi- 
 fied by their gorgeous uniforms and trappings. 
 
 " It is the Prince's house," Bertie whispered to him- 
 self, for he was the man who had been making his way 
 swiftly along the Quai des Theatins but a few mo- 
 ments ago "the Prince's house! What can be in- 
 tended towards him ? He should be safe here in
 
 "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." 349 
 
 Paris, if anywhere. And Kate is within a lady of 
 his suite ill, and, my mother said, sick almost to 
 death. Heaven ! I may not be able to see her even 
 now, after so long! What a fate is mine! On the 
 first night that I am able to approach her after so 
 long and cruel a separation, to find the way barred 
 thus ! " 
 
 He .was about to ask a man in the crowd which he 
 had now joined what the strange scene meant, when a 
 murmur arose amongst those collected there, and at the 
 same moment the order was given to the musketeers 
 to mount their horses and the sergeants of grenadiers 
 to form their men into double line. And at that in- 
 stant the tramp of other animals' hoofs was heard 
 and the roll of wheels. Then, a moment later, a hand- 
 some and much-gilded coach drawn by four horses 
 came swiftly along the quay until it reached the crowd, 
 and the astonished coachman, seeing the gilt-embroid- 
 ered crimson cord with the military behind it, pulled 
 his animals up sharply. 
 
 From the interior of the coach a voice, clear, crisp, 
 and distinct, was heard exclaiming in French : 
 
 " What is the meaning of this assembly ? Why am 
 I prevented from entering my house? "and directly 
 afterwards a gloved hand was put out from the open 
 window, while a tall young man of about thirty years 
 of age stepped from the coach. 
 
 He was clad, perhaps because of the wintry 
 weather, in a thick rose-coloured velvet suit embroid- 
 ered with silver and lined with peach-coloured satu 
 and silver tissue, and his waistcoat was a rich gold 
 brocade with a spangled fringe set on in scallops; h 
 silk stockings were also peach-coloured ; in his lace 
 cravat there sparkled a magnificent diamond solitaire.
 
 350 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 Over his shoulders he wore the insignia of the Garter 
 of England and the order of St. Andrew, and on his 
 breast there hung a gold medal by a blue satin ribbon, 
 on which, if it could have been inspected, would have 
 been seen the words, " Carolus, Walliae Princeps, Amor 
 et Spes Britannise." As to his appearance, his face 
 was oval and of a good complexion, though now he 
 seemed somewhat pallid in the torchlight, and his 
 eyes, which were very prominent and full, were blue. 
 
 " God bless your Royal Highness ! " cried Bertie 
 loudly, in which he was imitated by many, while all 
 the officers and soldiers saluted him, and the richly 
 clad civilians in the inclosure uncovered their hats. 
 
 The Prince glanced at the spot where Elphinston's 
 voice came from, and gave a look of recognition at 
 his tall, stalwart form ; then, turning to two of the 
 gentlemen who surrounded him, he said, while he 
 threw over his shoulders a small fleecy cape of ermine 
 he had brought in his hand from the carriage : " Mon- 
 seigneur le Due de Biron, and you, Monsieur de Vau- 
 dreville, you are friends of mine friends ever, as I 
 have thought explain to me, therefore, I beg you, 
 why my way is barred to my abode, and why I see you 
 amongst those who so bar it ? And, Monsieur le Due 
 and gentlemen, the night is more than cold ; be cov- 
 ered, I beseech you," and he put on his own hat, in 
 the lace of which there sparkled another superb dia- 
 mond as an aigrette, while the white cockade was 
 visible. 
 
 But the others remained uncovered, while the Due 
 de Biron said : 
 
 " May it please you, monseigneur " 
 
 " Monseigneur!" interrupted Charles Edward. " I 
 am the Prince of Wales ! Either that, or nothing !
 
 * "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." ^ l 
 
 Now, if you please, the reason of this guet-apens. Do 
 I owe it to my cousin Louis ? " 
 
 The duke shrugged his shoulders, as though depre- 
 cating the Prince's wrath, then he said : 
 
 " His Majesty regrets that your Highness would 
 not conform to his desire that you should leave France, 
 according to the terms of the recent peace made at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, as conveyed to you by the Due de 
 Gesvres " 
 
 " Neither my royal father nor I had part in that 
 peace," again interrupted the Prince. 
 
 " Therefore," went on the Due de Biron, " his 
 Majesty has thought it well that you shall be con- 
 ducted, with all respect and reverence, to the frontier. 
 Yet some forms must be observed, which I pray your 
 Highness to pardon." Then, turning to Monsieur de 
 Vaudreville, he said: 
 
 " Your duty." 
 
 " Monseigneur," said De Vaudreville, " I arrest you 
 in the name of the King, my master." 
 
 "Then," exclaimed Bertie, as with a bound he 
 rushed under the crimson cord, " arrest me also ! This 
 is the Prince of Wales, my master; we fought near to 
 one another in the Scotch campaign ; where he goes I 
 go too ! " 
 
 " Captain Elphinston," said Charles Edward, who 
 had recognised him when first he spoke, " I am, in- 
 deed, rejoiced to see you by my side again. There 
 could be no truer friend. Yet it must not be. Your 
 services have already been too many ; I can never re- 
 quite them. Henceforth live for yourself and thos. 
 who love you." And turning to the duke and De 
 Vaudreville, who with the soldiers and the crowd had 
 been astounded-indeed, touched-with this proof of
 
 352 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 devotion to the unfortunate Prince, he said : " I shall 
 not dispute his Majesty's orders. Yet, I think the 
 manner is a little too violent." 
 
 " I hope not, monseigneur," De Biron said. " I 
 should be au desespoir if such were the case. But since 
 there are other formalities to be gone through and 
 your Highness does not contest his Majesty's decree, 
 will you please to enter your house, and to permit of 
 our accompanying you ?" 
 
 "As you please," replied the Prince. "But," he 
 said, pointing to Bertie, " here is a gallant gentleman 
 of the family of my Lord Balmerino, who was done to 
 death on Tower Hill in my cause. He is a devoted 
 adherent of our house, though I have lost sight of 
 him for some time. Gentlemen, I am alone, save for 
 my grooms. I beg of you to allow him to enter also." 
 
 The Due de Biron and De Vaudreville bowed at 
 his words, and bowed again to Elphinston, after which 
 the order was given for the soldiers to stand out of the 
 way while his Highness entered the house. Then, 
 with another bow, the duke begged the Prince to pre- 
 cede them, motioning also to Bertie to accompany 
 them. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Captain Elphinston," Charles 
 Edward said as they approached the hall. " I have 
 thought often of you and of your poor friend, and 
 mine, Mr. Sholto. And you will find in my house 
 one to whom your coming may be a new life. You 
 understand ?" 
 
 " I understand, your Royal Highness. I should 
 have been here long before, but that I have been a 
 prisoner in the Bastille." 
 
 " In the Bastille ! You ! So that is where you have 
 been hidden from all human knowledge. But stay
 
 "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." 353 
 
 we cannot talk now. What do they intend to me ? 
 Do you know ? I do not, though I have long known 
 that my presence in Paris is unwelcome." 
 
 Bertie shook his head mournfully, and then they en- 
 tered the hall of the mansion which the Prince had 
 hired from a French nobleman. A huge fire burned 
 in the grate at one end of it, and to this Charles Ed- 
 ward advanced, and, holding out his hands to the blaze, 
 warmed them. 
 
 "Your Highness," said the Due de Biron, who by 
 no means appeared to relish the task before him, 
 " again I beg you to believe that in what we have now 
 to do no disrespect is intended. Yet, it must be done. 
 I have to ask you for your sword and any other weap- 
 ons you may have about you." 
 
 The Prince started and coloured at these words, 
 then, with a calmness which he never lost until the end 
 of his life when despair and, alas ! drink had done 
 their, worst with him he said : 
 
 " I shall never deliver my sword to you, nor any 
 
 man. But, since I am helpless No, Captain El- 
 
 phinston," seeing a movement on the latter's part, "do 
 not interfere, I beg you. Since I am helpless, you may 
 take them, and what else I have of arms." 
 
 At a sign from the duke, De Vaudreville undid the 
 sash of his dress sword he had been that night to a 
 gala performance at the opera in the Palais Royal 
 and took the weapon from him, and then, seeing a 
 melancholy smile upon his face, the other, with many 
 profusions of apology and regret, gently felt in his 
 pockets and removed from them two small ivory- 
 handled and silver-inlaid pistols and a little knife with 
 two blades. 
 
 "Do not be surprised," the Prince said, "at seeing
 
 354 DENOUNCED. 
 
 the pistols. Since I was hunted like a wild beast in 
 Scotland ay, hunted even by dogs I, a king's son 
 I have carried them ever. And here in Paris also 
 my life has been sought." 
 
 " I have to ask your Highness to give a promise 
 that you will make no attempt on your own life nor 
 that of any other person," De Vaudreville said. 
 
 The Prince shrugged his shoulders and glanced at 
 the pistols and knife in the other's hands ; then he said, 
 " I promise. What more ? " 
 
 "Your Highness," said the duke, "will be con- 
 ducted to Vincennes to-night. De Chatelet has re- 
 ceived orders to prepare a room for you. To-morrow 
 you will set out upon your journey. But, for the 
 present, again I ask your Highness to pardon me," 
 and he faltered as he continued, "it is necessary for 
 the greater security that you should be bound." 
 
 " Bound ! " the Prince exclaimed, and now he 
 turned white as death. " Bound ! I ! The Prince of 
 Wales ! " 
 
 "Alas! sire," said the duke, "it is the King's or- 
 ders. Yet, I pledge you my word as a peer of France, 
 such orders are issued solely out of regard to your 
 Highness's person, and to prevent you making any 
 attempt on that person." 
 
 " I shall make no attempt," Charles Edward re- 
 plied. " But I am unused to such proceedings as these. 
 And I do not even say whether they are justifiable or 
 not ; the disgrace does not affect me, but your master 
 alone." 
 
 While he was speaking, De Vaudreville continued 
 to bind him, using crimson cord of a similar nature 
 to that which formed the barrier outside, and at last 
 both his legs and arms were securely tied, when the
 
 "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." --- 
 
 unhappy Prince lost his calmness, and, looking down 
 on De Vaudreville with a glance that has been de- 
 scribed as " menacing and terrible," exclaimed : 
 " Have you not enough now ? " 
 
 " Not yet," replied the other, " though it is nearly 
 ended." 
 
 It was, indeed, nearly ended, since the Prince's 
 body was now so swathed with the cords that it would 
 have been impossible for more to be placed round it 
 or his limbs, and, looking at the duke with still his sad 
 smile upon his face, he said : 
 
 " I hope, monsieur, no other Englishman will ever 
 be treated thus. They are not made for such a pur- 
 pose ;" after which he asked what was to be done 
 next. 
 
 l< To Vincennes next," replied De Biron, with a 
 low bow. 
 
 " My horses are fatigued," the Prince said; "they 
 cannot travel so far and back to-night." 
 
 "Have no fear," the duke answered. "A coach 
 has been secured." 
 
 And now they prepared to lift the unhappy de- 
 scendant of a family of kings, the last descendant 
 who ever made a bid or struck a blow for all that his 
 ancestors had lost since his brother the cardinal, 
 Henry, Duke of York, was a mere shadow of a Stuart 
 and to carry him to the hired coach that waited without. 
 But Bertie, who had been a furious witness of this 
 insult to him whom, rightly or wrongly, he deemed 
 in agreement with three fourths of his country people 
 and perhaps one half of the English to be the right- 
 ful heir to the English throne, could not part thus 
 from him. As he saw him tied and bound, there arose 
 before him once more the memory of the bright young
 
 356 DENOUNCED. 
 
 chieftain with whom he had embarked at Port St. 
 Lazare, with whom he had landed in Lochaber, and 
 before whom the old Marquis of Tullibardine had un- 
 furled at Glenfinnan his white, blue, and red silk 
 standard, with, on it, the proud and happy motto, 
 " Tandem Triumphans." 
 
 Also before his eyes there rose the progress through 
 Scotland, the joyous welcome at Edinburgh, the vic- 
 tory at Prestonpans, the surrender at Carlisle, the 
 glorious march to and arrival at Derby, with the news 
 which succeeded that arrival, to the effect that the 
 German King was trembling for fear at St. James's, 
 and all London mad with terror. And then Culloden ! 
 that bitter day, when, as Cumberland's butchers 
 hacked and shot the wounded and the dying, Charles 
 urged on the living to avenge their comrades, and 
 was at last forced off the field against his will, his face 
 bespattered with the dirt thrown up by the cannon 
 balls that fell around him. 
 
 And now to see him thus ! 
 
 "Oh, sir," he cried, flinging himself at the Prince's 
 feet, " let me go with you wherever the King of 
 France may see fit to send you. Give me but leave 
 to see her I love, to tell her that once more I have 
 returned to her, and then let me follow you, as is my 
 duty and desire, wherever you go ! " 
 
 It was not only Charles Edward who was affected 
 by this manly speech ; even De Biron, who under- 
 stood English well, and De Vaudreville, who did not, 
 but evidently guessed accurately what he had said, 
 were touched by it. 
 
 " No, Elphinston, no," the Prince replied. " As I 
 said but now, the day is past for services to be ren- 
 dered to me or my cause. That cause is lost ; this is
 
 "AN OUTSTAYED WELCOME." 357 
 
 the last blow. When France joins hands with Eng- 
 land, how can a Stuart hope ? Farewell, Captain El- 
 phinston ; she whom you love I know all ! will re- 
 cover yet, ill as she is, I hope. I pray to God that 
 He may bless you both. Farewell ! we shall never 
 meet again never again ! Yet, remember, I beseech 
 you, when you hear my name mentioned, that we 
 fought side by side once that we were comrades 
 and and so, try to think well of me." 
 
 They bore him away after this, scarce giving Ber- 
 tie time to kiss his hand, and from that night they 
 never did meet again. To the Prince there were still 
 to be forty years of life accorded ; what that life be- 
 came, with every hope shattered and every desire un- 
 accomplished, the world well knows. 
 
 Between them the grenadiers and De Vaudreville 
 carried him to the hired coach for owing to his 
 silken fetters he was unable to walk and put him 
 into it at the spot where it waited, behind the kitchens. 
 And Bertie, following like a faithful dog who perceives 
 its master departing, thus saw the last of him and re- 
 ceived his last look. De Vaudreville, he observed, sat 
 by him; two captains of the musketeers entered the 
 coach and sat opposite to him ; two other officers rode 
 on each side of the vehicle, with a hand upon the door ; 
 six grenadiers with fixed bayonets mounted behind 
 like footmen, and the rest of the soldiers accompanied 
 them on foot.* 
 
 Thus the last but one of the Stuarts left Paris; 
 thus the last hospitality and favour of France were 
 withdrawn from the representative of the unhappy 
 family whose cause France had so long espoused. 
 
 * Note E. Arrest of Charles Edward.
 
 358 DENOUNCED. 
 
 " And now," said Bertie to himself, as with a final 
 courteous bow the Due de Biron entered his own gor- 
 geous carriage and departed to give an account of the 
 proceedings to Louis "and now for her whom I have 
 pined for so long! God grant that the report of her 
 ill-health may be exaggerated ! If I lose her, I have 
 nothing more to live for ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " LOVE STRONG AS DEATH ! " 
 
 NEITHER the Due de Biron nor De Vaudreville had 
 thought it necessary to place any of their soldiery or 
 police within the mansion perhaps because the per- 
 son they required was himself outside it and, conse- 
 quently, there was nothing to prevent Bertie from 
 making his way from the hall to the upper regions 
 where he naturally supposed Kate would be noth- 
 ing, that is to say, beyond a few terrified-looking men- 
 servants, who, on perceiving him mount the stairs, re- 
 treated before him, probably imagining that he had 
 been left in possession of the place by those who had 
 taken away their master. They were quickly, how- 
 ever, undeceived by the stranger calling to them to 
 ask who was now in charge of the establishment, and 
 to whom he should address himself with a view to 
 finding Lady Fordingbridge. 
 
 " Lady Fordingbridge," one of the footmen replied, 
 answering him in French, as he had spoken, though 
 his accent showed plainly enough that he was a Scotch- 
 man " Lady Fordingbridge ! She sees no one ; she 
 is very ill. She is, indeed " 
 
 " What ! " interrupted Bertie, in so sad a voice that 
 even the man refrained from concluding his speech, 
 which he had intended to do with the words, "dying, 
 they say." 
 
 359
 
 360 DENOUNCED. 
 
 But here a lady who had been descending the stairs 
 from above, and now reached the corridor on the first 
 floor at the same time that Elphinston did, came for- 
 ward and said, as she motioned the servants back : 
 
 " It is indeed Captain Elphinston ! Oh, why not 
 have come sooner, and why, of all nights, be so un- 
 happy as to select this one? Captain Elphinston, 
 your disappearance has very nearly brought Lady 
 Fordingbridge to her grave that, and the tragic death 
 of her husband." 
 
 "She knows that, then?" he asked, as he recog- 
 nised the lady who spoke to him, she being the wife 
 of Lord Ogilvie, whose title at that time was forfeited 
 in England, though afterward restored " she knows 
 that, then ? " 
 
 "Yes, she knows it," Lady Ogilvie replied. 
 
 " Does she also know the reason of it of why he 
 was led forth to execution on the Place de Greve?" 
 Bertie next demanded. He himself knew it now ; his 
 mother, whom he found still alive and well, though 
 terribly prostrated by the two years and more of 
 anxiety which she had endured since his disappear- 
 ance, having told him all. 
 
 " No," her ladyship replied, " that she does not know. 
 We have never told her. Rather we have let her sup- 
 pose that he was about to be executed for some polit- 
 ical crime. We could not tell her how base he was. 
 Yet," she went on, " it seems that you and he met in 
 prison that you forgave him. Did you forgive him 
 that?" 
 
 "Nay," replied Bertie, "I knew not what he had 
 done, and only saw that his mind was gone. And, 
 not knowing, I forgave. Now, Lady Ogilvie, I be- 
 seech you let me go to her ! "
 
 "LOVE STRONG AS DEATH!" 361 
 
 " First," she replied, " I must warn her that you are 
 here. She is very ill ; she cannot bear a shock." 
 
 "Is she as ill as that ?" 
 
 " She is very weak and feeble. Perhaps now you 
 have appeared again, come back almost from the 
 very jaws of death, she may recover. Let us pray 
 she will ! " 
 
 Then she left him alone, saying she would soon re- 
 turn. 
 
 Agonizing as had been the long hours, weeks, 
 months that he had spent alone in the chapel-room 
 of the Bastille, and nearly as much alone in the ca- 
 lotte with De Chevagny, when, both heartbroken, they 
 had sometimes scarcely exchanged a word for days, 
 none had seemed more bitter, more unendurable, than 
 the few minutes during which Lady Ogilvie was ab- 
 sent. For everything that he had gathered as to the 
 state of Kate's health, since he had emerged into the 
 world once more, pointed only too plainly to the fact 
 that he had but found her again to again lose her, 
 and to lose her this time beyond all hopes of re- 
 covery. 
 
 "Come," said Lady Ogilvie, returning to him 
 " come ; she is now expecting you. I have prepared 
 her. Come." 
 
 He followed her up the great stairs to the second 
 floor, and there his companion opened the door and 
 ushered him into a large, well-warmed and lighted 
 room, and then left them. 
 
 Seated before the great fire, yet with her face 
 turned eagerly towards the door as though watching 
 for him, he saw her once again saw the woman he 
 had loved so long, the woman whom Fate had parted 
 him from. She was thin, now, almost to attenuation
 
 362 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 she, whose supple, graceful figure had once been one of 
 her greatest charms so thin that she looked more 
 like a child that was unwell than a grown woman, and 
 on her face there were no roses now. 
 
 " Kate," he exclaimed, advancing swiftly to her as 
 she held out her thin worn arms to him, and falling on 
 his knee beside her " Kate, my darling, I have come 
 back at last ; am free once more ! Kate, nothing can 
 part us now." 
 
 For answer she let her head droop to his shoulder 
 and lie there. It seemed to her that at last perfect 
 peace had come, that all the black and dreadful past 
 was gone and done with for ever; then she whispered: 
 " Nothing part us ! Oh, my dear, my love, there is 
 one parting more only to be made ; then then we 
 shall meet to never part again. Bertie, you have come 
 in time, yet too late too late for this world." 
 
 " No, no," he said, " it shall not be ! Kate, do not 
 leave me now. Think, think, my darling, of how long 
 we have waited, of all that has separated us so long, 
 and that now there is no longer any barrier between 
 us. Think of the dreary months in prison, months 
 that I counted day by day, hoping, praying ever to get 
 free and come back to you ; think how brave you have 
 been, always waiting for me. O Kate, my sweet, do 
 not go and leave me now alone ! " and as he spoke he 
 wept, and buried his head upon her lap. 
 
 " Nay," she said, stroking his head and noticing 
 how grey and grizzled it was now, though he was still 
 so young a man " nay, do not weep, Bertie. You 
 are too strong to shed tears, too strong and brave. It 
 was your strength and manhood I loved so much, was 
 so proud of. Do not weep now ; for it is best, Bertie, 
 best so."
 
 " LOVE STRONG AS DEATH ' " 363 
 
 " Best ! " he answered almost fiercely, and raising 
 his head as he did so, while she with one wan hand put 
 back softly from his forehead the brown locks flecked 
 with grey. " Best ! How can it be best ; how, how ? 
 O Kate, think, think of all our hopes formed so long 
 ago, the hopes of happy years to come to be passed 
 together ! the hopes that we should grow old to- 
 gether, and then, together at the end, share one calm 
 and peaceful grave. My darling, those years are still 
 before us ; I cannot lose you now. Stay, stay with me! 
 Remember all our plans formed in the days of the Rue 
 Trousse Vache, the days when we wandered forth 
 hand in hand together. Oh, stay with me, my darling, 
 stay ! " 
 
 It appeared as if the rose-blush came back into her 
 cheeks at his whispered prayer, as if a new life was 
 dawning for her again. Then she murmured : 
 
 " Oh, my dear, it seems as though I must not leave 
 you now. Bertie, I will stay with you, if I may if 
 God will let me ! " 
 
 24
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 NOTE A. 
 The Reward offered by Charles Edward. 
 
 "Whereas we have seen a certain scandalous and malicious 
 paper, published in the stile and form of a proclamation, bearing 
 date the ist instant, wherein, under pretence of bringing us to jus- 
 tice, like our royal ancestor King Charles I of blessed memory, 
 there is a reward of thirty thousand pounds sterling, promised to 
 those who shall deliver us into the hands of our enemies, we could 
 not but be moved with a just indignation at so insolent an attempt. 
 And though from our nature and principles we abhor and detest a 
 practice so unusual among Christian princes, we cannot but out of 
 a just regard to the dignity of our person, promise the like reward of 
 thirty thousand pounds sterling, to him or those who shall seize and 
 secure, till our further orders, the person of the Elector of Hanover, 
 whether landed, or attempting to land, in any part of his Majesty's 
 dominions. Should any fatal accident happen from hence, let the 
 blame lie entirely at the door of those who first set the infamous 
 example. CHARLES, P. R. 
 
 "Given in our camp at Kinlocheill, August the 22nd, 1745. 
 
 " By His Highness's command. Jo MURRAY." 
 
 Headed. Charles, Prince of Wales, etc., Regent of the King- 
 dom of Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, and the dominions 
 thereunto belonging. 
 
 NOTE B. 
 Jesuit Priests in England. 
 
 A long proclamation was issued, headed " George R.," and dated 
 December 6, 1745, which, after threatening all kinds of penalties 
 against those who knew of Jesuit priests being in England, or those 
 who harboured them, continued : 
 
 364
 
 APPENDIX. -ge 
 
 " We, for the better discovering and apprehending of such Jesuit 
 and Popish priests, do by this our royal proclamation, by and with 
 the advice of our Privy Council, strictly charge and command all our 
 judges, justices of the peace, magistrates, officers, and other our loyal 
 subjects, that they do use their utmost care and endeavour to dis- 
 cover, apprehend, and bring to trial, all Jesuit and Popish priests, 
 except such Popish priests, not being our natural born subjects, as, 
 by the law of this our realm, are permitted to attend foreign minis- 
 ters." A reward of one hundred pounds for every such priest was 
 offered. 
 
 NOTE C. 
 The Duke of Cumberland's Vengeance after Culloden. 
 
 Extract from a letter written by an officer in the King's army : 
 " The moor was covered with blood, and our men, what with 
 killing the enemy, dabbling their feet in the blood, and splashing it 
 about one another, looked like so many butchers." 
 
 A gentleman named George Charles, who wrote an accurate his- 
 tory of the rebellion, also says : " Vast numbers of the common 
 people's houses or huts were likewise laid in ashes ; all the cattle, 
 sheep, and goats were carried off; and several poor people, especially 
 women and children, were found dead on the hills, supposed to be 
 starved. Even places of worship were not exempt from the ravages 
 of the unprincipled soldiery ; several mass-houses about Strathbogie 
 were pulled down by them ; some non-jurant Episcopal meeting- 
 houses were likewise burnt and destroyed, and they were generally 
 shut up all over the kingdom. The commander-in-chief was at this 
 time amusing himself and his staff with foot and horse races." 
 
 NOTE D. 
 The Bastille. 
 
 In presenting the Bastille to the readers of these pages exactly as 
 it was according to every authority on the subject although in con- 
 siderable opposition to the usually accepted and melodramatic and 
 transpontine ideas on the fortress I do not feel that I have robbed 
 Romance of any of her charms. The true Bastille offers the 
 fictionist quite as much opportunity for his powers as the fusty, 
 tawdry thing which, under its name, has heretofore done duty in 
 its place.
 
 366 DENOUNCED. 
 
 The Bastille was never the place of indescribable horrors which 
 fictionists and dramatists have contrived "out of their own heads," 
 as the children say to represent it ; indeed, I may truthfully assert 
 that I have never read a description yet of the place in fiction, nor 
 seen a representation of the place in drama, which could by any pos- 
 sibility have approached very near accuracy. And this is the more 
 extraordinary, because there are something like forty authorities 
 who may be referred to on the subject, including among them such 
 men as the Due de Richelieu and Voltaire, both of whom had in 
 their time been prisoners in it. 
 
 In truth, the Bastille was more a house of detention than any- 
 thing else, and in many cases was regarded as a shelter or harbour 
 of refuge from outside storms. Instances are frequent of men peti- 
 tioning to be sent there to escape their enemies, and of others re- 
 fusing to come out and be forced to meet their enemies. More- 
 over, if a young man of fashion contracted debts or low amours, or 
 gambled, or was too intimate with undesirable women as was the 
 case with the Due d'Estrees, the Due de Mortemart, the Comte 
 d'Harcourt, and others nothing was more common than for his 
 father to pack him off to the Bastille, accompanied by his tutor and 
 his valet. Also, the Bastille was often regarded by the Parisians as 
 a suitable object for poking fun at. Voltaire, after having been in- 
 carcerated there for objecting to being thrashed by the Chevalier de 
 Rohan for being a poet, told Louis XV, when he promised to provide 
 for him, that " he trusted his Majesty's provision would not again 
 include board and lodging." Another poet, referring to the moat 
 round the fortress, delivered himself of the lines : 
 
 Que vois-je dans ce marecage 
 
 Digne de curiosite, 
 
 Se tenir sur sa gravit6 
 En citadel de village ? 
 A quoi sert ce vieux mur dans 1'eau ? 
 Est-ce un aqueduc, un caveau ? 
 Est-ce un reservoir de grenouilles ? 
 
 And Langlet du Frosnoy (an abbe and a most prolific writer, who 
 passed half his life in various prisons, and died at eighty by tum- 
 bling into the fire while reading a book) used to take his papers, his 
 snuff, and his nightgown off to the Bastille when rearrested, and 
 calmly go on with his work there on being once more locked up. 
 As regards the surrender of the Bastille (for, as Marmontel truth-
 
 APPENDIX. 3 6 7 
 
 fully says, it was only threatened with siege and never really be- 
 sieged) in 1789, and the release of the "unhappy prisoners," it may 
 be mentioned that there were but seven of them there, and that one 
 was an imbecile Englishman named Whyte, whose friends had had 
 him shut up to keep him out of harm's way. Four of the others 
 were common forgers awaiting trial ; the sixth was the Comte de 
 Solages, detained at the request of his family and on their paying his 
 expenses ; and the seventh was Tavernier, a man who had conspired 
 against the late King. No record of torture being practised in the 
 Bastille after the middle ages can be found ; while, as for food, 
 the Kings allowed so fair a sum to each prisoner generally one hun- 
 dred sols, or five francs, a day that often the latter petitioned that, 
 instead of so many meals, they might be allowed some of the money 
 for other things. In the case of a prince of the blood, fifty livres a 
 day were allowed ; for the Cardinal de Rohan one hundred and 
 twenty were granted. Discipline had, however, to be maintained, 
 and where the " guests " were too obstreperous they were sometimes 
 confined alone in dark, solitary cells, instead of being in rooms with 
 others for companions. Latude, who has been regarded as a martyr, 
 was frequently punished for swearing, roaring so that people outside 
 could hear him, and " playing the devil," to use the words of the 
 officials ; yet he was allowed tobacco, seeds for the birds he was 
 permitted to keep, new clothes when he asked for them, fur gloves 
 to keep his hands warm, and almost whatever food he desired. 
 Allegre, who escaped from the Bastille with him and was retaken, 
 was also a troublesome man ; he broke all the windows, china, and 
 pottery in his room daily, and tore up his mattresses and shirts, 
 " which cost the King twenty francs each," and his pocket-handker- 
 chiefs. He died mad at last at Charenton, did not know Latude, 
 who went to see him, and told everyone that he was God. 
 
 The instrument of torture found in the Bastille on its fall turned 
 out, when regarded by intelligent people, to be a small printing 
 press left behind by one Fran ? ois Lenormand, who had been per 
 milled to have it in his room for occupation ; also a billiard table 
 was discovered which was provided, the year before the Bastille 
 surrendered, for the amusement of the "prisoners"! 
 cells " which have furnished so much matter for powerful writing, 
 were "the ice houses" in which wine, meat, and fish were s 
 In truth, the "King's furnished apartments" seem to have been 
 far from unpleasant abode to many, as the Abbe de Mehegan a<
 
 3 68 
 
 DENOUNCED. 
 
 knowledged when his mother implored the King to keep him there 
 as long as possible, because he was so dissolute and extravagant and 
 such a terror to all the girls in his parish. 
 
 Of course, in the days of Louis XIV and Louis XV some pris- 
 oners were detained for long periods, and one there was who was 
 detained the same length of time forty-four years as I have ac- 
 corded to De Chevagny. Falmy's case was also possible in Louis 
 XV's reign. But in Louis XVI's first year the Bastille was cleared 
 of all but Tavernier and some others whose trial was close at hand, 
 and even the revolutionists acknowledged that no " court " victim 
 had been incarcerated during that unhappy King's reign. The last 
 man to enter the Bastille was one Reveillon, a furniture dealer, and 
 he did so at his own request, and with a demand for the rights of 
 " sanctuary," as his fellow-workmen were destroying his house in the 
 Faubourg St. Antoine because he had used defamatory language 
 against them I and he was afraid for his life. 
 
 Terrible, therefore, as the Bastille was, as a place in which one 
 might be detained for an indefinite period, it was not what it has 
 hitherto been represented ; yet, as I have said, it formed a sufficiently 
 gloomy abode in which to secrete such characters as Bertie Elphin- 
 ston and Fordingbridge when such secretion was rendered necessary 
 in the interests of my narrative. 
 
 The descriptions of the Bastille have been gathered by me from 
 the accounts of the spy, Constantin de Renneville, who was a pris- 
 oner for eleven years,-and who, when released, went to London, and 
 was there assassinated by an unknown hand ; of the adventurer, 
 Jean Louis Carra, who, after writing odes of praise upon the fall of 
 the Bastille, perished at the hands of the republicans ; of the Due 
 de Richelieu, who, when a very old man of ninety, could not resist 
 visiting the place where he had been three times confined when a 
 very young one ; and of Voltaire, who had had considerable experi- 
 ence of its hospitality, having been sent there twice ; and of many 
 other authors of the past and present. 
 
 NOTE E. 
 Arrest of Charles Edward. 
 
 The arrest of Charles Edward took place under precisely similar 
 circumstances to those which I have described, with one exception, 
 namely, that it was carried out on his quitting the opera house in
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 369 
 
 the Palais Royal instead of outside his own house on the Quai des 
 Theatins, and it was from behind the kitchen of the Palais Royal 
 that he was taken away in a hired cab. I have transposed the arrest 
 to the latter spot to suit the requirements of the story. The Due de 
 Biron took part in it, against his will, in the capacity of colonel-in- 
 chief of the guards. He was the least celebrated of the many Dues 
 de Biron, of whom a French writer said " all were celebrated and 
 some notorious." 
 
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