Tom Tufton's Travels

CHAPTER XIV. THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Back in London, his pockets full of money, fine clothes upon his back, and fine houses open to him when he went there in company with Lord Claud, it was small wonder if Tom forgot his fears after a few days of such a life, and was only rendered uneasy when whispers reached him from time to time to the effect that the authorities were hot upon the track of the daring highway robber who had succeeded in making away with the Queen's gold.

A reward had been offered for the discovery and apprehension of the miscreants concerned in the affair, and at first Tom had felt half afraid to show his face in the streets by daylight. But after a few days had passed by, and nothing had happened to arouse his anxieties, he had taken heart of grace. Lord Claud's example of nonchalance gave him coolness and courage; whilst the language and behaviour of the fine folks with whom he came in contact helped to dull and deaden any pangs of conscience which the wickedness of the midnight raid might otherwise have occasioned him.

He saw perfectly well, from the glances of admiration and arch reproof levelled at Lord Claud by the ladies in the gay company which he kept, that his patron was suspected in many quarters of being concerned in this recent robbery. Fine dames would tap him with their fans, and ask him what he had been doing at St. Albans on such and such days; and when he replied as to his whereabouts with that easy grace of bearing which always characterized his dealings with men and women alike, they would shake their heads, flirt their fans, and call him by whimsical names incomprehensible to Tom, but which he knew implied that he was suspected of being concerned in very wild and lawless deeds.

Yet these suspicions on the part of the ladies raised this handsome golden-haired Adonis to a higher pinnacle of favour than ever. It seemed to Tom that so long as a crime was carried out with dash, and verve, and success, it only brought a man fame and honour. He shivered sometimes when he thought of his mother and sister, and what they would think if they suspected that he had been led into an open act of law breaking and robbery. But he felt a little flattered in the society of these fine dames, when he saw that they looked at him with interest and curiosity, and wondered if he had played the part of lieutenant to their hero in the recent exploit.

He had been growing used to the strange ways of that portion of the London world in which Lord Claud had his sphere, but even yet it did seem strange, when he began to think about it, that a man believed to be a notorious but exceedingly clever criminal, should be received, courted, flattered, and made much of, as was Lord Claud, just because of his handsome presence and dashing grace of bearing, and because he had never been caught.

Tom wondered sometimes how these same faces would look at them, were they to be carried in irons to Newgate; and he fancied that under such circumstances they would wear a totally different aspect.

But for the most part he sought to drown thought and reflection by plunging into a vortex of gaiety. He was no longer laughed at as a country bumpkin. He had been quick to pick up the airs of a man about town. He dressed excellently, having toned down his first fopperies; and finding that a rich and sober style best suited his fine proportions, he adopted that, made his mark, and was treated with respect and courtesy.

He had not learned the jargon of the day, and was a silent man in company; but that was considered rather a distinguishing trait in one who could handle the sword and lose his money at the gaming tables with the aplomb that Tom had acquired. And a fine sum did he lose, too, during the days that followed upon the escapade; for he felt a sort of recklessness upon him, and as he had a sense of being hunted down and tracked, he thought he might make the most of freedom and wealth so long as they were his.

He was Lord Claud's guest for those days, feeling safer in his company than elsewhere; and that worthy appeared not to know fear. Indeed, he had succeeded in covering his tracks so well, that Tom did not see how anything could be brought home to his door. It made him think of words he had heard dropped before, to the effect that to be Lord Claud's confederate was to be also his victim. He wondered if there had been any truth in these insinuations, and whether he was trusting in a man who was ready to save himself at the risk of his friend.

It was difficult to believe this when in the company of his patron. It was when alone that the doubts would at times assail him, and therefore he was happier in the company of Lord Claud than in any other.

He had not been to his old lodgings since his escapade. He felt an odd sort of reluctance to facing honest Master Cale, and parrying the questions which might be addressed to him. But he resolved not to let a second Sunday pass without a visit; and upon the Saturday he returned thither, dressed in his sober riding suit, and striving to meet the welcome of his host with an air of unconcerned and natural gaiety.

"Good Tom, you are welcome indeed!" exclaimed the perruquier eagerly, taking him by the hand and drawing him within. "I have been suffering no small anxiety upon your account, my lad. I trust and hope without any cause."

Tom forced a smile, and hoped it was a natural one, as he asked gaily:

"And wherefore this fear for me, good mine host?"

"There have been ugly whispers in the air ever since the robbery of the gold on its way to Holland. Men will talk and wonder, and it was known to all that Lord Claud had driven forth the day previous northward from London, and that you were his companion. Men's tongues have wagged for less than that, Tom, and for less weighty matters."

The little man was scanning his guest's face somewhat earnestly. Tom felt a most unwelcome qualm of shame and pain, such as he had only experienced before when thinking of his mother and sister.

"Why, Master Cale, Lord Claud was but visiting his friends at St. Albans, far enough away from where they say the robbery took place. He will have no trouble in proving that he was never two miles from St. Albans upon that night; and I was with him the whole time, sharing his room and his company."

"Well, well, well," answered Cale, with a look of some relief, "I would never willingly believe harm of any man. But there are more strange tales flying about with regard to yon Lord Claud than about almost any other man in town; and folks say that many a likely lad, dashing and brave, has become confederate for a time with him, and has then vanished no man knows whither. I would not that such a fate should befall you, Tom."

A slight shiver ran through Tom's frame. He felt that there was an ugly suggestion in these words. How easily might some disastrous turn of fortune's wheel that other night have left him a victim upon those fields instead of the gallant horse who carried him! How skilfully and easily had Lord Claud played upon him, prompting him to an act which a few months ago he would have shrunk from in the greatest horror! There was something almost diabolic in the beauty, the fascination, the cleverness, of the man. Tom made a resolution, as these things flashed through his mind, that he would have no more dealings with him, if this was what they led to. He even began to doubt now whether it was true that he had applied in vain for the reward promised them for their secret service expedition. It might all be a part of a preconcerted plan, in order to cajole Tom into thinking he had some sort of right to act as they had done with regard to this money.

He began to feel doubts of everything now, and above all of himself. Had he been made a tool of and a dupe? And was he walking blindfold into a net ready for his feet?

He slept but restlessly upon his bed that night, revolving many things in his mind, and almost resolving to see Lord Claud no more, but to adopt a new method of life in this wonderful city, albeit he scarcely knew what that life should be.

Tom's hot blood had been fired by the adventures of the past months; his vanity had been flattered by the success which he had met with; his self confidence (always rather too strong) had grown and increased with great rapidity. He felt that without adventure and peril of some sort life would be tame and flat. To live as Master Cale lived, a quiet uneventful life of honest toil, seemed repugnant to him. Even to do as Harry Gay did, and pass the time in wandering between coffee houses and the play, or taking a wherry and rowing hither and thither on the great river, or walking or riding into the country-all this now seemed to him tame and tiresome.

He turned and tossed upon his bed, wondering what had come to him, and what life held in store for him. He thirsted for adventure, for the excitements and perils which he had experienced of late. His blood tingled at the memories he conjured up of those things he had passed through-the strife of arms, the fierce joy of battle, the breathless gallops from pursuing foes, and the hairbreadth perils they had come through.

That was life! That was what he longed after! He cared little for the gay resorts of town, save as an interlude. The life of the streets soon palled upon him. But there was no attraction in the thought of home and the peaceful existence there. He must see more of the world, he must enjoy more of life, before he could ever dream of going back to Gablehurst to live.

But what could he do? He fell asleep pondering upon this problem, and when he awoke it was the first thought in his head.

But, as is so often the case when one has gone to sleep pondering upon a problem, the solution had come to him during the hours of unconsciousness, and he awoke with a new inspiration.

"Why not offer for the secret service?"

Tom pondered this question all the while that he was dressing. There were difficulties in the way, of course. The Duke of Marlborough-the only man to whom he could apply with any hope of success-was out of the country; Tom knew not where he would be found just now, though that could easily be ascertained. He himself was ignorant of foreign tongues, although he had picked up a little understanding of French, and could speak a few simple phrases. But he had plenty of confidence in his strength and courage. He felt that his energies demanded now a wider field of exercise; and if he could but get his chance, he had full assurance that he would make a brilliant name for himself in some way or another.

This idea brought back all his high spirits. He saw that it would be necessary once more to consult Lord Claud, who would probably be able to give him excellent advice. But after that, Tom told himself, he would have no more dealings with that mysterious personage, but would throw himself into the service of the great Duke with such zealous goodwill as should lead him to fame and fortune at last.

He had a feeling, also, that he should be happier out of London and out of the country just at this juncture. Lord Claud's careless indifference to consequences had had its effect upon him; but he was not quite comfortable yet, and the feeling of being watched and hunted for was an exceedingly unpleasant one.

He felt a distinct qualm of uneasiness that very morning as he and his host sat at breakfast together.

"I am going to fetch Rosamund," said the perruquier, as the meal drew to its close; "but if you will take my advice, good Tom, you will not sally forth into the streets today."

"And wherefore not?" asked Tom.

"I misdoubt me that you are watched for here, Tom. It may be my fancy, but several times during these past days I have seen ill-looking fellows prowling nigh at hand-one or another of those four bullies, of whose discomfiture Rosy has told me, and young Harry also. Once the fellow they call Slippery Seal came boldly to the shop asking news of you from the apprentice; but the lad had the wit to reply that he thought you had ceased to lodge here. Nevertheless I have seen one or another of them skulking about since then, and it may be they will suspect that you may choose today for a visit to us."

"And what do they watch me for?" asked Tom, with heightened colour, but looking at Cale with an air of something almost like defiance, though his heart misgave him the while.

"Nay, Tom, that is a question you should be able to answer better than I. If there be no cause of offence against you, why, then, do as you will, and go where you will. Yet men have ere now been haled to prison and to the gallows for sins that have been less theirs than those who set them on."

Tom's face was very grave. He was not afraid of adventure and peril; but the thought of prison and disgrace-to say nothing of a felon's death-seemed to paralyze the beating of his heart with a numb sense of horror. Truly, if this sort of danger dogged his steps, the sooner he was out of the country the better for himself!

But he would see Rosamund once more, and spend one happy day in her company. If he went out into the streets, it had better be after the summer dusk had fallen, when Cale took his daughter home. He agreed, therefore, to remain within doors all that day; and he was not sorry he had done so when presently he observed two of his enemies slowly prowling past the house, scanning the windows furtively, and talking together in very earnest tones.

Could it be possible that these men had been of the company travelling with the troopers that night? Could they have got wind in some mysterious way of what was afoot, and have followed to seek his ruin? Tom had reason to know that these men bore him a grudge, and had threatened revenge, and that they hated Lord Claud equally with himself. Harry Gay had warned him that they were dangerous fellows; and Tom had not lived all this while in London without being well aware that there were ways and means of obtaining information, and that every man had his price. If they suspected him to be concerned in the robbery, they would take every possible means to hunt him down.

Tom set his teeth as this thought came to him. To be the victim of the spite of a party of low villains, who were only fit themselves for the hangman's halter! The thought was not to be borne. Better, far better, the life of the forest with Captain Jack! There at least he would be free of this persecution; and perhaps the day would come when he should find his foes at his mercy, and take his revenge upon them!

A very little brooding of this sort sufficed to set Tom's hot blood boiling. He had no wish to join himself with freebooters and law breakers; but if they hunted him beyond a certain point, he would not hesitate to fly to those who would give him safety and a welcome. He had heard plenty of tales by this time of impoverished gentlemen, disbanded soldiers, falsely-accused persons of all sorts, who had been forced to fly to the freedom of the forest, and live as they could. Since the days of bold Robin Hood there had always been outlaws of the better, as well as the worse, sort. Tom had no wish to throw aside his code of morality and honour; but if men would not let him live as a peaceable citizen, they should suffer for it!

To be cooped up in dusty streets amid hot brick walls during these long beautiful summer days, was a thing not to be endured. Go he would and must; and if he could not find work for himself in the secret service, why not enter a secret service of another kind, and teach the authorities not to hound a man too far?

This was Tom's method of reasoning-evading the question of his own guilt by the excuse that he only took what was his by right. It is easy to believe what one wishes to believe, and Tom had never found it hard to persuade himself that what he desired was the best course of action to pursue.

How cool and fresh the green glades of the forest would look in the glancing June sunbeams! A good horse beneath him, the free skies above, a trusty comrade at his side-what could be more pleasant? Tom drew a deep breath and fell into musing thought. One thing was very certain: he was in danger from those enemies of his. He would take care not to be caught like a rat in a trap. He knew a better way than that!

In musings such as these time swiftly fled away, and soon he heard the voices of Rosamund and her father in the house below.

Rosamund greeted him with shining eyes, and a glance of keen curiosity and soft admiration, which he found mighty pleasant. She at least had not harboured unkind thoughts of him, and it was very plain that he had become the hero of her girlish dreams. She wanted him to tell her all that had befallen him since their last meeting. She listened with eager, breathless attention to what he had to say; and although he spoke nothing of the one event which was always in his thoughts, it seemed as though she half suspected that he had been the witness of, or the partaker in, some strange and fearsome adventure, for the colour went and came in her cheeks, and she seemed always waiting for more each time that he paused.

She asked in a low voice if he had heard anything of the bold act of robbery; and Tom answered that he had heard a good deal. Coming a pace or two nearer him, she looked wistfully into his face and asked:

"Have they told you that there was one man of very goodly height, strong of arm and stout of heart, who dropped his mask in the heat of the fray, so that the moonbeams smote full upon his face, which was only blacked above and below? Did you hear that news spoken by any?"

"I think I heard that something of that sort had befallen," answered Tom as carelessly as his beating heart would allow.

"But oh, sir," she asked yet more earnestly, "did any tell you that the tall bold robber was said to favour yourself? Indeed, some say that it must surely be you-even though you were so far away!"

Tom looked as he felt, a little startled at that.

"How heard you that, Mistress Rose?"

"Harry Gay heard it in the taverns. It is the talk in some of them. And he heard these four bad men, who were sworn to vengeance, as that they have a halter about your neck already, and they only wait till they have you safe to pull it tight.

"O Tom, Tom, do not let them do you this despite! Have a care, oh, have a care how you fall into their hands, for they are without mercy, and full of evil passions, and greedy for the promised gold. They would swear any man's life away to obtain the reward; and how much sooner yours, whom they hate!"

Tom felt a strange tremor run through him, half rage, with a dash of fear, and some emotion sweeter than he had ever experienced before, and therefore more strange. He suddenly found himself clasping Rosamund's hands in his, and saying:

"Sweet Rose, would you care if hurt were to befall me?"

Her brimming eyes and quivering lips gave eloquent answer. He stood very still, holding her hands clasped between his; and when he released them, he answered with a new note in his voice:

"Have no fears, sweetheart. They shall not have me. I have plans that will foil them yet. But think not too well of me, Rosamund. I am not the hero you would make me out. I am a mad fellow, and have played the fool once too often; but for all that they shall not get me."

"Keep out of their clutches, and I care for nothing else!" cried Rosamund, her eyes alight with excitement.

But they could exchange no more confidences, for Cale's voice was heard summoning them to dinner; and after that meal they sat together in the cool parlour, and passed the time in talk, having no fear of being disturbed, for none knew of their being within. Generally in summer weather Cale took his daughter for a long ramble, and sometimes did not return to the house till after he had left her at her aunt's house in Highgate.

The light slowly waned and faded. In the open country the day would be bright for some while longer, but in narrow streets it went faster. Down in the basement, where they had taken their supper, it was growing quite dark, although no lamp had yet been lit. Cale was just saying that he must take Rosamund home, and was debating within himself whether it would be wise for Tom to accompany them, when there was a sharp, determined knocking at the door, which made Rosamund jump quickly up with blanching cheeks, whilst Cale threw a startled look at Tom, whose face had grown suddenly set and pale.

"Open in the Queen's name!" cried a loud and authoritative voice from without.

And Cale rose at that summons, for it was not one he might dare to disobey.

The moment he was gone Rosamund sprang to her feet.

"Quick, quick! This way! There is a window at the back. I will let you out, and bar it after you, and throw the key away. Come, I will show you where!"

Tom sprang after her into a little back kitchen, the door of which the girl promptly locked and barred behind them. The only other outlet was a narrow window, fastened by a bar that could be locked across it with a padlock. This she flung open, and disclosed to view a narrow court beneath.

"Jump out," she cried; "run across, and you can easily scramble upon the roof of yon low outbuilding. From thence you can creep along into the lane at the back; and, if no one be watching, drop down there and fly for your life. But if there be a spy set, then climb up by the gutterings upon the roof-Harry Gay has done it many a time-and you will find a hundred ways of outwitting them and escaping down some back alley.

"O Tom, make haste! I hear angry voices in parley with my father. He will detain them as long as may be. But be thou gone quickly. Oh, do not delay!"

"I will not," answered Tom, with his hands upon the windowsill; "and I thank you from my heart for your goodwill to me this night. Give me one kiss, sweetheart, and bid me good speed. Pray Heaven you have a welcome for me when you see me next!"

She kissed him with the tears standing in her eyes.

"I shall always have a welcome for you, Tom," she answered; "I shall think of you always till I see you again. But oh, go! go now! And Heaven prosper and be with you! Oh, they are coming! Delay no longer!"

Tom was already outside the window, and now sped forth to do her bidding. She saw him scramble up the rough wall of the building opposite, and make his rapid way along, as she had said. She craned out to see what he would do when he reached the corner, and watched as he made a careful survey, and then dropped into the lane at the back. She listened with all her ears, but there was no sound of pursuit or struggle.

It had been as she hoped. No one had thought of that possible way of escape. No doubt the back door of the yard was watched; but she would never have sent him out by that.

Instantly she closed and barred the window, throwing the little key away into the court below. Then she softly unlocked the door and set it ajar, and began washing her dishes in the dim twilight of the scullery, singing a little song to herself the while.

In the house above there was the sound of tramping feet and loud voices. She heard her father say quietly:

"Her Majesty's warrant must be obeyed. Seek what you will, and take what you will. I know nothing of any criminal. I have none such in hiding here. I am an honest citizen, and have nothing to fear. Do your will. I hinder you not."

The next minute Cale had come softly into the back kitchen, and was exchanging a silent but meaning glance with his daughter.

He saw in a moment by her face that all was well. Tom had made good his escape. The longer the search continued in the upper rooms, so much the longer would the fugitive have to put distance between him and his pursuers.

At last the feet came downstairs, and a lantern was flashed all round the basement rooms.