Chapter VII: Prisoner and Sentry

"It was a miracle--a miracle!" repeated Gilbert Boyd, lost in wonder and gratitude, some twenty minutes after the return of Captain Jermain and his friends to their glasses down in the dining-parlor, whither Boyd, in a state of utter bewilderment, had escorted them. The sound of their laughter and raillery penetrated to the place where the fugitive with Andrew and Gilbert now sat--a small lumber-room, windowless and unceiled, in the attic of the rambling Manor, partitioned off in one of its gables. Lord Armitage's self-extrication from the Nest had been dangerously prompt. Andrew hurried up the staircase and came upon Lord Geoffry creeping about in the dark hall; through the boy's suggestion this uppermost retreat had been gained, and hither, too, hastened Gilbert from the festivities recommenced in the dining-parlor.

"Miracle? Ay--it seems a trifle like one," responded Lord Armitage, laughing already; "what's the verse of Holy Writ about they who shall bear up the righteous in their arms? Surely, I may count myself a better man than I dared, and take courage forever."

"Blessed be the hasty fingers that left those walls so rude within!" ejaculated Gilbert. "And a second brace above the first! I shall go and see it for myself when those villains have spurred away to-morrow. But I dare leave them no longer to themselves, my lord. I must below. Andrew shall be our messenger--the comings and goings of the boy will not be noticed. I will return at the next possible chance--say within half an hour. But such a place for you! Mistress Annan shall see that it is made as comfortable for you until morning as it can be. Little dreamed I you were safer here than in _that_ most hidden corner of my house. Come, Andrew; this greatest of perils is over; go you and see if you can learn more of this prisoner or how we can help him. Farewell, my lord, you are not likely to be endangered again. I must keep my noisy guests in good humor till they be ready for bed."

Lord Armitage bolted the door behind them. He sank upon a pile of dried hides, in the middle of his musty sanctuary, feeling completely exhausted. He closed his eyes. Perhaps the reaction from such present peril was all at once something like a swoon. In any case he lay motionless and with eyelids closed for quite an indefinite time, until he was startled by Andrew's knock, and his whisper from without.

"You are soon back," he said, collecting his faculties.

"Soon? Yes, yes--I have had an adventure myself, and I bring you tidings thereby," began the lad, quickly. "Oh, I thought I was never coming up."

He drew Lord Geoffry to the improvised seat. "All is well below. They are drinking--laughing. But I have spoken with the prisoner! My lord, despite his tattered clothes and sorry look, I truly believe him, like yourself, a gentleman, a----"

The boy was startled at the effect of these few words. Lord Armitage uttered a low cry, as of assurance made sure. His eyes flashed, and he caught at Andrew's arm: "I feared it! I hoped it! Tell me what you did, what happened! Tell me all, at once!"

In a few words Andrew related his slipping into the improvised guard-room under pretence of offering to the willing Tracey and Saville another flagon. Thereupon he boldly asked leave to give the prisoner a glass of water, for which the man suddenly began faintly moaning. What with their refreshments and the absence of anyone to remind them of discipline, both dragoons were in a vastly better humor than before their meal.

"So I leaned over him," Andrew continued, excitedly, "and I raised his head and held him the cup. The man they call Saville had his back to me. 'You are with friends, but we cannot help you,' said I, in his ear. I could scarcely catch what he dared whisper as I laid down his head, but I surely heard him say in English: 'Your father--warn him--Danforth.'"

"Your father? Danforth?" interrupted Lord Armitage. "Good heavens! What can he desire to say? Danforth? Oh, my God!"

"I know not," pursued Andrew, "for just as I bent to listen again the two soldiers turned around. 'Are you not through yet with your fetching a drink, boy?' called out Saville to me; 'come, come, enough of such folly! He is not worth it. Out with you. This is not your place.' So I had to hasten forth trembling. I dare not try again yet awhile. They have set a chair against the door."

"Danforth? He spoke of him--and of your father, and of a warning?" repeated Lord Geoffry, with clenched fist and a knit forehead. "Oh, Andrew, what may those words mean? Why, why could you not gather more? More _must_ be gained in some way. There has been, is, fresh danger brewing, I fear, and before we are out of the shadow of this. But stay here no longer. Hasten, tell your father what has chanced, that he, too, may ponder over it. Return when you may--be cautious--but especially come to me if you discover anything, ay, anything more about this mysterious prisoner or from him." The knight hesitated an instant, and then added:

"I will confess to you, dear lad, that for weeks before I came to Windlestrae I lived in daily hope of hearing certain special intelligence that very possibly can be trusted only to me. Moreover, it will come to me from--I know not whom! It concerns a friend--the nearest friend I have, and one pursued and miserable as I am. I wait for it, I hope for it, without the least knowledge of who shall bring it me. Alas, look not so surprised and perplexed! I cannot tell thee more, my boy. But so it is--and in every stranger I may pass by my messenger unless I am ever-watchful. On such a hard riddle hangs perhaps all my future. Leave me; while you are gone I must plan how it may be possible for me, in spite of Jermain or Tracey or Saville, to speak with this man myself."

These last declarations left Andrew aghast; but he quitted the attic and sped down-stairs, just as Mistress Annan and a maid-servant were seeking the gable-room with a mattress, a pitcher of water, and some other articles. He once more attempted the outer kitchen; but it was hopeless, Neil informing him that the door had again been denied all comers by the two on its inside. Andrew listened, and heard enough to convince him that Tracey and Saville, well supplied with liquor at their own angry demands, were setting in for private saturnalia of their own; a course, which, however loathed by the temperate Manor House family, the Master saw might be of great help, if the prisoner they guarded was really to be addressed.

The little dining-parlor was still bright with a dozen of Mistress Annan's best candles; and the liquors that Boyd dared not withhold, when fresh supplies were called for, seemed in active circulation.

"Come in, Andrew," called Jermain, as Andrew slipped back to a seat, "you are too young to be gay, but you can sit down and let your bonny face smile on us. May you never grow up as wild a fellow as I! Here's to your health, Boyd, prince of solemn-faced Highland hosts! Now, gentlemen, I'm going to sing you all a capital song." Which he proceeded to do.

Andrew, during it, whispered over his father's shoulder. Gilbert's heart sank like lead again. Yes, there must be a communication with the prisoner, whoever he really was, as soon as possible. A prospect of Danforth! That meant fresh peril. Had there not been enough? He sat and affected to listen to Jermain's frivolous chat until he could remain no longer. He rose as if to get something.

"No, friend Boyd, no more budging," protested Jermain, "you can sit as long as we, and sit you must. You have been an uneasy host all the evening, ever since the secret-chamber affair was broached, and now you shall make amends. Fill up your glass."

Boyd dared not persist. Twice after this did he attempt to get away, that he might try to hold a conversation with the captive in the outer apartment, or compare his alarmed surmises with Lord Geoffry. But the captain seemed good-humoredly wary. By this time, however, the hilarity of the two other soldiers had passed into, first, a disputatious, then a maudlin, mood. The familiarity between Roxley and the captain was decidedly more apparent, Jermain laughing immoderately at all his stories, and applying himself quite as liberally to the cup, though with what seemed a stronger head for it. Andrew disappeared a little earlier, which the lateness of the hour entirely warranted the boy's doing.

"I must speak with my son before he sleeps," Gilbert said abruptly. He left the table, this time without exciting comment.

When he reached the kitchen he was not a little disturbed to find Mistress Annan, the two maid-servants, Angus and Neil, and two others of the household, all sitting in partial darkness and silence, evidently each too apprehensive of further trouble to be willing to go to sleep. "Nay, to your beds, all of you!" he ordered quickly. "I hope that the night will pass without new disquiet. You can do no good by watchfulness here--rather harm. Stay! Neil and Angus, you two had best sit awhile until I speak with you again. The rest of you go cautiously hence at once."

Gilbert passed swiftly on and listened at the outer kitchen. He could hear Saville humming a tune and Tracey talking. "Do you lack anything, gentlemen?" he inquired, pushing against the barrier on its inner side and opening the door, "or are you disposed to seek your rest?"

"No," growled Tracey; "we'll go to bed when we please, and not before. Shut the door!" Boyd obeyed; but the glance he had cast within the place showed that the prisoner lay wide awake in his corner, and that his two guards seemed further advanced in drunkenness than their superiors at the other end of the house. For once the upright master of Windlestrae thanked God that beings made in his own image could so readily turn themselves into beasts. He hastened to the attic. Andrew was there also, as he had fancied.

"Ah, you are come!" exclaimed Lord Armitage, as he entered; "you are just in time, for I was about bidding Andrew go down to you and tell you what I have decided must be done as to this prisoner and his message to you or me. First of all, are Tracey and Saville yet enough off their guard to allow you speech with him? No? Very well, then, my chance is desperate. I shall speak with him myself."

"You?" ejaculated Boyd, in consternation.

"Yes, I! Listen. I more safely than anyone else. These villains propose to shut the poor man into the Nest, do they not?"

"Not so, my lord. They have given that over."

"Why?"

"The panel cannot be fastened on the outside. It was never intended to be made a bridewell. There is no lock, and besides that the mechanism of the door is rusted and uncertain; you found that out to your cost."

"Where, then, will they stow the unfortunate fellow?"

"In the East Wing. There is a strong room there which I have offered them."

"Has it a window?"

"Yes, but a window useless to you if you attempt parley from without the house. It is the oldest part of the Manor; a dead-wall has been built up flat in front of the window-bars."

"Is the cell upon a passage, then?"

"No; it opens from a larger chamber, my lord--the East Room we call it--and that East Room is the only access to it; and the captain has already said that one or two of his party must sleep in the East Room, if only for the sake of form----"

Lord Geoffry interrupted Gilbert decisively. "I want, then, a suit of Neil's or Angus' clothes--their worst. When you return below offer Jermain a servant to relieve his men of this same formal guard-duty. 'Tis ten to one that this thoughtless, half-drunken young soldier jumps at your proposal. If I am once stationed before the door of that strong-room, depend upon it I can find a way to learn all that its inmate has to tell. Those brutes will not waken, once sound asleep, though I blew a trumpet over them."

Boyd stared, bewildered, at this audacious scheme. "He will lock the cell's door, my lord; keep the key himself or give it to one of his men. Such a plan is folly."

"He must _not_ keep the key; or, if he do, it must be got again. It can be, if you do not spare your whiskey."

"And do you, then, suppose," asked Gilbert impatiently, and staggered by such persistency, "do you suppose that Jermain will say 'yes' to this offer? He is innocent of suspicions, my lord. But he is not a fool."

"If he say 'no,' well and good. Then will I go down to the room as I am dressed this minute, and while they sleep; or we will devise other means to do what must be done. Bring first the suit--the clothes--I beg. Boyd, be not so fearful."

In spite of his determination not to assist his guest in such an extraordinary attempt, the arguments of Sir Geoffry faced the bewildered Master quite down. Particularly was Boyd impressed with Sir Geoffry's strange insistence that "the prisoner might have that to utter which could be said best or only to him."

"So be it, my lord," he said; "your blood be upon your own head; and yet, good sooth, I know not what else to attempt. Danforth! Danforth! The name makes me tremble for you. I will go and await the fittest moment to proffer your services to Jermain, and, if he accept it, I will do my best to apprise the prisoner that something is in store for him. Andrew, my son, this is no hour for you to be awake. You aid us at your own cost. Go you to your bed when you have helped my lord into yonder frieze-coat and leather breeches."

"If I do go I shall not shut my eyes; I shall but lie there and suffer death each moment," cried the boy pleadingly. "No, let me stay near my lord until all these new dangers are over. Ah, how can I sleep until he and you sleep?"

Gilbert had not the heart to command.

"Well, well, be it as you will; but keep above-stairs," returned his father. "God knows the end of this night's business. Pray each moment for us all. Hark! I hear Roxley singing and the rest shouting. How vile, how vile a crew to be harbored in this honest abode! What goodly lessons for thy youth to be taught!"

Gilbert had been absent quite a considerable period this time, although the fact aroused no interest in the dissolute trio he would willingly have driven from his threshold. He saw at once, as he entered the dining-parlor, that a change had taken place. Good Scotch whiskey had done disgusting work. Roxley had ceased singing and telling anecdotes and lounged with one arm on the table, supporting his drowsy head, which lolled back stupidly. Dawkin was sprawled half-across the board, his hand clutching an empty bottle. Jermain was arguing some point of military etiquette in an aimless fashion and without waiting for replies from Roxley. The young captain's gallant bearing was gone: his eyes were dull and bloodshot, his dignity and vigilance vanished, and his whole appearance that of a half-intoxicated and quite commonplace young soldier.

"At this rate," thought Boyd, "your fine Surrey friends will not know you when you go back southward. The king's army is an ill school indeed, for you young men!"

"Well, Boyd--do your clocks--sing bedtime for all honest people," he inquired, sluggishly; "your face betokens your thinking that it is an hour when all men and most brutes should be asleep--and under either name I am ready enough to stretch myself. Halloa there, Dawkin! wake up, man, and go out to the kitchen and tell Saville and Tracey to fetch that rascal hither. I must see him securely bound before we fasten him into that strong-room upstairs, that Boyd talks about. Pity the secret chamber is of no use. Boyd, I'll go up with you now and inspect this other place at once."

Dawkin stirred, looked vacantly at his superior, and burlesqued a salute with his hand and the bottle. He rose staggeringly, but fell back in his chair, apologetically murmuring something.

"The man is drunk!" commented Jermain, angrily, relinquishing his grasp of him. "Roxley--no, wait here until I come back."

He took Gilbert's arm. The latter led him up through the second-story hall again.

"Down this way," said Boyd, descending abruptly a couple of steps into a side passage, very low-ceiled and evidently little used. He opened the door of a large chamber tolerably furnished, and put in order for the night by Mistress Annan, but plainly seldom tenanted. Directly opposite them Jermain saw a solid oak-door studded with nails--a grim-looking little portal that admitted them into a stone-floored and certainly dismal enough apartment, with a grated window.

"Fetters even, I declare!" exclaimed Jermain, stooping to examine some rusted chains, which proved past service. "Come along, Boyd; this is just the place. That's the key? So. Tight as Newgate! We'll get our fellow here in a trice and Tracey and Saville shall lie in the outside chamber."

But when they and Roxley presently stood before the door of the outer kitchen, it resisted Roxley's efforts, until his violent push overturned the chair-barricade within--and with no audible protest from the prudent architects thereof.

"Well, well--this is a pretty sight!" ejaculated the captain.

It was, indeed. A candle was guttering on the table amid empty flagons and spilled wine. Motionless in a corner lay the prisoner, just where Gilbert last saw him, apparently asleep now, in spite of his pain and the stifling air. At full length, opposite, stretched Saville, a brawny Irishman of middle years, sound asleep. Tracey, similarly oblivious to all responsibilities, snored beside Saville.

"More brutishness!" thought Boyd, in disgust at such a spectacle; "and yet I would they had but dropped off an hour earlier!"

Jermain and Roxley began trying to rouse the derelict pair. It was no use. Each relapsed into a stupidity more hopelessly complete at each attempt.

The captain suddenly gave up the task with a spasm of profanity that horrified Boyd, and drew from him a stern rebuke.

"They both deserve to be court-martialled and shot," declared Jermain. "Wait until we get to Neith! No, I don't care how informal their service is, Roxley. They shall be hung up by the thumbs for this--Dawkin, too."

"What--what's to be done, captain?" demanded Roxley, in a sudden attempt to hide his own dubious condition that was ludicrous to behold.

"To be done? Why, those fellows must be let lie where they are--no use trying to stir them. We must get him above-stairs ourselves. By Jove, Boyd, I'm glad of your strong-room, with a vengeance! Look at those two; look at Roxley--and," he added, with a laugh, "look at me! Strong-room be praised! I am too tired to play watchman, and I seem to be the only one fit--were it my place--which it certainly is not! But--by the sword of Claverhouse!--somebody ought to have an open ear to what goes on inside or outside this house, between now and morning. A surprise might be undertaken by the Jacobite farmers hereabouts. What's that? You can ask one of your hinds to mount guard upstairs with Roxley?"

Boyd reiterated his proposal. "H'm--I don't know. Yet why not? Yes, let it be so. If I should have to report such a thing, I would have to be mum about Roxley's status. Here, pray lend a hand. Be lively, Roxley. Up, you varlet!"

The prisoner struggled sullenly to his feet. Boyd dared not yet speak to him. Roxley was close on the other side. But his eyes met the captive's with a meaning look. Just as they came to the stairs Roxley stumbled. Jermain leaned to his aid. It was Boyd's opportunity, albeit one of seconds only.

"_The sentinel is a friend,_" he whispered--"_he will speak with you. Expect him._"

There was time for no more; but he felt the man's hobbled foot pressed upon his own. He had been understood, at least in part. They reached the East Room.

"In with you, sirrah!" said Roxley, urging on their charge with a thrust past the iron-studded door of the cell. He made no resistance while they bound his legs more tightly.

Then came a crucial moment. Jermain pulled the key from the lock. Boyd held in his hand another key of Andrew's searching out, one closely like it. Only a sober and sharp eye would detect imposture. To make the change was a matter of adroitness, but its success involved the discovery of the trick before morning, unless cunning could accomplish a second change. Luckily, Boyd did not have to effect the first one.

"Take the key, Roxley," said Jermain, yawning, "put it in your pocket, and don't open the door, no matter what you hear, without calling me. Boyd has stowed me not far off--I'll show you."

In his heart the derelict young captain was glad to throw any responsibilities of the night upon his favorite's shoulders.

"Dawkin and I lie here?" inquired Roxley, disposing of the key.

"Ay. Keep on your clothes, of course--I shall. There's a bed, and that great sofa--you can give Dawkin that. You'd best go and help him up now." Roxley departed with an uncertain step.

"Fetch your trusty henchman now, if you will, Boyd," assented Jermain, wearily. "I--I'll pay him for it to-morrow. I ought to have looked sharper after these soldiers of mine."

The die was cast. If he still were resolved Lord Armitage might come. And Roxley held the key.

Boyd vanished. Jermain gaped tremendously, sank into a seat, and leaned his spinning head upon his palm. Roxley came in with Dawkin and succeeded in getting him, still somnolent, upon the sofa, Jermain dozing in his chair while this performance was got through with. "Push up his long legs, Roxley," he advised--"that's it! I shall be glad to push up mine, I'm sure. My report must be--a--well, a loose affair, if I have to draw out one. Whe-e-w!" and the captain groaned. "How fagged I am! Here's Boyd, at last."

Behind Gilbert slouched an ill-kempt peasant, whose age was undistinguishable, armed with a pair of pistols and a cutlass. His hair hung low over his forehead.

"Found somebody, did you?" inquired Jermain, rousing himself and bestowing a single glance on Sir Geoffry. "Well, my man, we rely upon your eyes and ears for at least the forepart of the night; until Mr. Roxley relieves you--if he does. Call him, call me, if you hear or see aught amiss, within or without. Do you understand?"

A clumsy nod was the supposed servant's reply. Boyd, unwilling to open his lips in this danger-fraught moment, lighted Captain Jermain away, and beneath his grim brows looked at the three thus face to face. It seemed incredible that the men whose meeting, an hour or so earlier, seemed such an accident of dread, could, in this moment, be contrived with but a fraction of risk to one of them!

"Good-night, Roxley!" said the Captain. "Lock the door after us." But he drew the soldier aside. "Look here, Roxley, we start early; sleep soundly, but not too soundly. We ain't setting an example of discipline to the service to-night! Boyd's hand might be tempted to do--one knows not exactly what. Another time, when we have prisoners, we had best rest earlier--and drink less. Mum's the word, though, Roxley."

With a parting glance at the supposed Highlander, who sat on a stool by the chimney-piece, the very model of a steadfast, awkward Scotch farm-servant, expecting to be well-feed for an irksome duty, the Captain allowed Boyd to conduct him from the East Room.

Roxley made a remark or two to his mute aid, while pulling off his boots. "Rouse me, if aught goes amiss," he said, with a hiccough, "but not unless--and I don't promise this--you can wake me any easier than Dawkin over there. You and I'll call it our night off duty--eh?--now that Captain's gone." Whereupon Roxley sighed and hiccoughed again, and laid himself at full length across one of Mistress Annan's best coverlets; and, in a trice, could not have been roused by the incoming of his own horse at a trot.

So it is. Stillness, stillness, all through the Manor House. Dull comes the sound of one o'clock. Jermain sleeps; Roxley and Dawkin sleep; Saville and Tracey sleep. Boyd and Andrew are hidden in the garret until an appointed signal; the lad's eyes shut involuntarily from pure fatigue. Geoffry, Lord Armitage, in what of peril thou must yet meet before this wonderful night shall give place to dawn, may the Lord of the defenceless be thy helper!