Chapter IX: Colonel Danforth

Streaked east became flaring light. Deep silence brooded yet over Windlestrae Farm, broken by no more unaccustomed sound than the notes of wakened birds, a cock's crow, or the low of kine.

But when the eastern side of the Manor House was showing a yellowish tint, with the faint rays of the sun through the morning mist, a hand was laid upon Roxley's shoulder and that heavy-lidded dragoon unwillingly opened his eyes, to find Captain Jermain shaking him gently.

"Come, Roxley, up with you! We must be on the road without asking for breakfast. I woke, myself, just now, by good-luck. Hasten!"

Roxley rubbed his organs of vision. Jermain stumbled, in the dark room, toward a window, administering a jolting to Dawkin on the way. He pushed open the thick shutters, so that a gray light filled the East Room; then he turned abruptly toward the corner, on the farther side of the bed, saying to what he thought was sentry but was only shadow:

"Halloa, there, my man! Go downstairs and see if you can fetch some water. For the----" Jermain's sentence broke in a profane ejaculation. "Boyd's knave has bolted! A fine sense of responsibility, truly; and I dare swear, Roxley, that you cannot tell me when."

"Captain! Captain Jermain!" spoke Roxley, in an agitated tone. The trooper was rummaging his clothes excitedly. "I can't find that key. Did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," said Jermain, with a laugh. "I remember well enough. You pocketed it somewhere. We _were_ all in a bad way, weren't we?"

"H'm--where is it? Where is it?" muttered Roxley. The last pocket went inside out; and just then Roxley started, for at his feet he saw lying two pieces of leathern thong.

He uttered a cry of consternation, as things all at once suggested themselves in their true light.

"Save us, captain! I fear there has been treachery--an escape!" he called, hoarsely, running to the oak-door.

"Escaped! what? who?" cried the confused Dawkin, staggering to his feet. "Was the prisoner shut up yonder? Where am I? I remember nothing--what has happened?"

"Happened? Sots and dullards that you are!" cried Jermain, at once putting two and two together. "Alarm the place with me, ye sluggards! Bid them bring an axe and a crow. Where, where be Boyd's ears--or his people's? Halloa again! The house! The house!"

Not long after, the morning sunshine lighted up a scene of mortal confusion in the East Room, the halls, and gardens of the old Manor House. Jermain, in his first surprise and bitter anger, was not able to make an intelligible inquiry of anyone--either of his following or the household. It was Chaos come again. He questioned without listening to replies, swore furiously at his men, and seemed disposed to think only of the superficial details of affairs. This was not for long. When into the upset room, streaked with sunshine, came Gilbert Boyd, firm of step and hollow-eyed from his long vigil, in which he had wrestled with his God for guidance and support in the desperate crisis now involving him and his house--then was it that Jermain turned upon him like a baited bull.

For, Boyd's reputation at Fort Augustus, or elsewhere, might be as Tory as tongues had made it. Possibly a wary Highland prisoner had cunningly corrupted his guard, and the two vanished together, leaving no soul under the Manor's roof responsible for the trick. One chain of thought forbade Jermain to go deeper than this theory, or consider his host as in collusion. But another one instantly asserted it, link by link, and turned the accepted partisanship of Gilbert Boyd, Master of Windlestrae, into a ridiculous error; and, instead of having divined that error, he, Captain Lionel Jermain, stood there, hoodwinked, entrapped, a laughing-stock to the regiments! Oh, his puerile taking all for granted last night--his unsoldierly debauch, that lay also at the bottom of his predicament! The grosser wits and tastes of Roxley and the rest might seem pardonable; his behavior, never!

"You have heard of this miserable business, Mr. Boyd?" he demanded, breathlessly, of Gilbert.

"I have," was Gilbert's monosyllabic answer. He looked the captain straight in the eye.

"It is inexplicable, outrageous! What business had you, Mr. Boyd, to press upon me a servant of whom, by all that I gather, you knew far less than you gave me to understand--a fellow who has played the traitor, disgraced me, and criminated you!"

"I am sorry that any gentleman of the service should suffer by the misconduct of one of my household," replied Gilbert, sharply, "but I deny that it criminates anyone of my household, except I shall have proof of it."

Jermain stared angrily at Boyd for a couple of seconds. Then, with an oath, he burst into a peal of coarse laughter, ending it with:

"Your impudence is a marvel, Mr. Boyd."

"And your conduct, at this moment, Captain Jermain, very unlike your behavior last night upon entering my house."

"I fancy that I know now a different host," sneered the captain. "Idiot that I have been!" he muttered. "Hark ye, Boyd, I tie, hand and foot, a wounded prisoner. I cast him into yonder strong-room, through whose door he cannot be heard, unless he call--a door that I lock with my own hands----"

Boyd interrupted--"The key of which you gave to one of your own troop, who hides it about his person."

"Ay, but--when the soldier he commits it to is in no case to resist its theft. Be silent, I command you, Roxley! You knew this, Mr. Boyd; so did your sentry, after or before your return with him well instructed in how he was to act."

"Was it your duty to accept such aid, Captain Jermain? Was it--no matter if you knew the outsider as well as I?"

"I--I--there are circumstances, Mr. Boyd, in which--in which an officer acts--according to circumstances; especially with an honest representation in his ear. Mr. Boyd, Mr. Boyd, I know not yet what to think of you, sir, however much you may have trusted your false varlet!"

"Determine for yourself, Captain Jermain. But let me ask if I am not to be deceived in a man, like the rest of the world?"

"Oh, don't plead that!" retorted Jermain. "Had you less knowledge of him than selecting him meant? Or is he, too, a part of the riddle? For, by the sword of Claver'se! I can find but little account of him from his fellows whom I have catechized here. What have you to say for yourself?"

"Captain Jermain, you shall use no such tone to me! I deny the need of my replying to you, sir. Remember that, soldier or not, you have been and you are my guest!"

"Oh, you do well to remind me of that! It is no moment for me to be overawed by trumpery Highland dignity, sir. If I am forced to violate the code of hospitality, it is because I have reason to believe that I have been tricked and deluded--with many other people. I propose to sift this occurrence at once, Mr. Boyd."

"Sift it how and when you choose, young sir! You will find only honesty where Windlestrae is concerned. I defy you!"

"Ha! you defy me?" iterated Jermain, sarcastically. "Mark that, Roxley!" The other two dragoons would have spoken, but he silenced them with an angry gesture. "_That_ commonly means a plot that is deep-laid, Mr. Boyd."

"Deep-laid?" returned Gilbert, in a sterner accent and with curling lips--"find it out, then, Captain Jermain! Or, rather, create it to suit yourself and to best screen yourself. You would visit your spleen upon Windlestrae? You would fasten the fault of your prisoner's escape on my family? Suppose I cast in your teeth the abuse of my kindness that made you and your four companions incapable of thinking of your common duty, unable to perform it. Can you deny that----"

"No more, Mr. Gilbert Boyd!" exclaimed Jermain, scarlet with anger and the sting of Boyd's bold reminders. But he thought best to stomach the rest of Gilbert's courageous accusation.

"----That on yonder bed lay Roxley--and Dawkin there? Why suffered they this jail-breaking to go on, not two paces from their ears? Down-stairs at this moment are stretched Tracey and Saville, sunk in a drunken stupor yet too deep for their stirring, for all your cries and tramplings over this discovery. And you, Captain, where and how employed were you? You, their head, and responsible for their conduct on the march?"

Jermain was silent. The course of the Master of Windlestrae grew with each sentence, to him and the rest, more astonishing. But the secret of it was not Boyd's hope to avert by bandying of words or by his dignity the storm now let loose. In the dark attic the Master had risen from his knees believing, as if from an assurance of the Lord, that the time for blunt truth, right against might, was set straight before him. "God help me!" he cried, "not another twist, not another half-lie nor Devil's gloze of fact shall they have from lips of me or mine. Only a long and black list of them could serve us now; and that for how little space! Reveal thine arm to me this day, O Thou of the Covenant!" It was with the iron composure of some martyrs who have gone to their stakes that Gilbert Boyd had entered the East Room.

"Look here, Mr. Boyd," said Jermain, now striving to maintain a certain politic decorum, "I will have no such insinuations. It is true that I--or some--all--of my attendance became, last evening, owing to the fatigues of the day's riding, less--less abstemious at table than we might properly have been. I apologize for it. I apologize for the way in which we conducted ourselves during the inspection of your famous Mouse's Nest----"

"You do well, sir," said Boyd, coldly.

"Do well?" repeated Jermain, angrily. "By Mars! but I dare swear that your Scotch revenge for my acquaintance with the secret chamber was thus taken. 'Tis like a Scotchman."

"That is false. I bore no malice for your knowledge, nor for your violence. You were in no state to conduct yourself like a gentleman."

Alack! Discretion ought ever to elbow Valor, but so seldom does. Old Gilbert Boyd was bringing to bear in this interview many heroic qualities--his love for the truth, his trust in Heaven, and the simple power of a bold soul. Jermain inwardly weakened before them; and whatever he attempted to seem, he was beginning to wonder whether he were behaving wisely. He did not wish, he dared not just now, to press the affair. To do so he must be re-enforced from somewhere. His reputation as a soldier Boyd plainly held in his hands. He feared him. He was already thinking it would be better to swallow his pride, hurry off from the Manor with as much dignity as he could collect, and then descend again upon it from Neith, some fine morning, like a whirlwind. Yes, that would make brave amends! Such were Jermain's reflections when Boyd said that indignant something he needed not--that luckless, "You were in no state to conduct yourself like a gentleman."

"You lie, Mr. Boyd!" cried the young captain. He threw himself at Gilbert's throat, forgetting the disparity in their years, forgetting policy, everything.

"Back with you, baby in your gold-laced cap!" quoth Boyd, dashing him to the floor with one stroke of his muscular arm, all his fiery temper and outraged respect showing themselves in his defiant attitude.

Jermain struck out both hands in falling. He dragged Boyd nearly prostrate. Gilbert resisted furiously. This violent turn of affairs consumed so little time that the crestfallen Roxley and Dawkin were taken by surprise. But Dawkin and one of the men-servants sprang forward and caught hold of the Captain. Roxley grasped Boyd. The two were forced apart. With Boyd panting and Jermain cursing, each was made to right himself.

But, just as the on-lookers restrained them, Andrew Boyd hurriedly crossed the threshold of the room. He uttered a cry of terror. In the confusion of struggling figures, the clamor of eavesdropping women, and exclamations of the rest, it seemed to him immediately that Roxley was throttling Gilbert.

"Unhand my father, villain!" the intrepid boy called out, springing like a tiger-cat on the uncouth dragoon. With a blow from his doubled fist he struck stout Roxley much more effectively than the rules of his Lordship of Queensberry now sanction--aiming at, in a gastronomic as well as a pugilistic sense, Roxley's most attackable spot--and at the same time seized him by the windpipe. Roxley, roaring and gasping, released Gilbert; then strove to clutch this puissant enemy. The _mêlée_ might have become general, for the room rang with exclamations and threats and the scuffle of feet. But Boyd snatched Andrew to his side, waved away the servants, and cried, "Peace! peace, I say! This is no time for a brawl over a boy. Captain Jermain, command yonder fellow to keep his hands for men, not children. Andrew, leave the room."

Scarcely had Gilbert uttered such words when hasty steps came along the corridor. A cry of surprise echoed from the hall. The angry group turned. They beheld in the door-way a new participant--a short, spare little officer, of perhaps forty-five years, with grizzled hair, a thin face, set lips, and a pallid color. He stretched out his hand at the astonished disputants.

"No! Neither Andrew nor any other person must leave the room. Mr. Boyd, you and these comrades here seem not to have expected visitors so early."

It was Colonel Danforth. At his back appeared half a dozen other soldiers. Without the house were reined six times as many. The confusion within enabled the Colonel to make one of those quiet advents so dear to his cunning heart; and he had hastened up from the nearly deserted lower story to share in the extraordinary fracas, visible as well as audible through the open windows of the East Room, as he and his men had trotted up below.

With grim pleasure, he stood there. He observed the consternation his presence brought. This small, invalid-looking man! Was he the soldier never accused by his comrades of humor except to wound; devoid of enthusiasm except in cruelty, of clemency save to the dead, or, indeed, of any emotions but those allied to a ferocity and vindictiveness from which a Malaccan pirate might have borrowed?

"Captain Lionel Jermain, I believe," he said, advancing carelessly through the roomful, and still extending his hand. "This is an unexpected meeting, Mr. Boyd. I give myself the honor of this very early visit--that is, to you, not your guests--upon a matter of some import; but I am glad to find acquaintance already before me. You seem agitated here. May I take the liberty of asking you, Captain, from what has arisen this altercation? Or you, Mr. Boyd? I may be able to adjust it."

The quick, decisive voice ceased. The speaker fixed his eyes on Gilbert, though he addressed Jermain. The Captain, seeing his way very clear to violent methods of uncovering the whole puzzle and revenging himself upon fate and Windlestrae for it, saluted, assumed a more soldier like attitude and demeanor, and said, with an angry glance at Gilbert: "Colonel, you know me. I am not one to groundlessly accuse. I have lodged with Mr. Boyd overnight. I charge him with promoting the escape of a Jacobite prisoner whom I bestowed in yonder strong-room under his direction."

"And I charge that young soldier with behavior unworthy a gentleman and an officer--drunkenness, abuse, and assault, and I throw his accusation back into his face," returned Boyd, speaking clearly and decidedly. But he drew Andrew closer as he uttered his brave defiance. The worst had come to the worst; and it was now simply a question of manly behavior and the end appointed by Providence.

"Ha!" spat out Danforth, with a flash darting from his small eyes that betokened instant thunder, "is this the trouble? Ah, I am not surprised, Captain. Mr. Boyd seems to be a man concerning whom most of us have oddly been at fault. Mr. Boyd, I have heard both sides, I presume? In turn, I must inform you that I have come to you this morning to determine whether or not you have in hiding at present in your house, or have been so secreting for certain days, a Jacobite refugee--another one, I take it--named Lord Geoffry Armitage. Will you be good enough to answer whether you have known aught of the movements of such a person?"

Boyd stared back in rigid silence. Whatever he might have said--always within the truth--he had no chance to prove. For, at the mention of his gallant friend's name, Andrew, in horror and utter despair, sank gasping in a half-faint. Boyd caught him or he would have fallen at his feet, and kneeling, with his son upon his arm, looked silently up at Danforth, like an old lion beside its tormented whelp.

"Ha!" exclaimed Danforth, with a sudden change from dignity to ferocity, "I need no other answer than that cry at present. Mr. Boyd, consider yourself under arrest." He struck his palms together. The soldiers manacled Boyd.

"The cockerel with the cock!" added Danforth. They gyved the semiconscious Andrew also. Angus and Neil and their fellows suffered a similar indignity in a twinkling.

"Now, gentlemen, all down below!" ejaculated Danforth, looking like some venomous snake, exultant in the power of the poison he can infuse. "Bring them! Captain Jermain, you can tell me more of your story outside." With an oath, he added: "I'll hold high court on the lawn; and I rather think that there won't be much left to find out when it's over. Be quick, you lazy varlets!"