SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 386, 11 May 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

A ROYAL WARD.

By PERCY BREBNER. (Published by arrangement with Cassell and Company, Ltd., publishers, of London and Melbourne,, the proprietors of the Copyright). CHAPTER XXVII. <THE MESSAGE. The man who had ridden post haste to London with news of rioting beyond Exeter had a grave message to deliver. There were soldiers in Exeter, enough to keep the pence in the near neighborhood of the town. This was an easy matter, But it was soon evident that beyond Exeter meant a great deal more than this. Deep in the heart of Devonshire much worse was happening. There were tales of well-armed bands, defying all law and order, and, ready to resist any interference. The men had confidence in themselves, and if for the present the mails were allowed to pass, it was only that they might bear a message of defiance to the authorities in London, Private coaches were stopped, however, toll levied, and if deemed insufficient the coaches in some cases were smashed. The passengers as a rule had been allowed to proceed on foot, unmolested, so long as they accepted their fate quietly, but a spirit of courage and defiance on the part of the victims had caused the mob to show an ugly face, and in one instance a gentleman had been so brutally treated that he had died by the roadside. The house of a particular unpopular landowner had been attacked and burnt to the ground. Different bands were in various parts of the country, and the riotinig was worse in some places than others, but there was no doubt that the rising was an organised one, and that the various contingents were slowly drawing together. Urged on by small successes the danger was daily becoming most imminent, and the soldiers at Exeter were too few to cope with it. For some time past there had been dissatisfaction in the county, the cause being not very clear or apparent. True, there was a certain amount of distress, but not more than in other parts of England, and the men who were up in arms, had not, for the most part, the appearance of being half-starved. As with mobs before them, like mobs which ■would- come after them, the actual reason for rebellion was forgotten in the mass of grievances which they soon imagined they had. They were poor because of the war on the Continent. Why should Englishmen fight and die in Spain? They were ground down oecause the rich squandered wealth in London. They were miserable in order that the idle might live in wasteful luxury. As it had been in France, so it was here, and France had put the issue to a bloody revolution. Why should not England revolt? The Government was rotten to the very heart of it, and the Prince Regent was the heart of rt, so they said. Devon men were noted for loyalty whenßoyalty was worthy of it, but now. they were armed to demand justice/ '■ ',.;■' ~- • .-;, ; v

'.Such ideas asithese are I'ftrel.y, of spontaneous'; growfcn;., seeds;., be sown and there must 'be someone to sow them. The agitators came from the smuggling fraternity that haunted the coasts, or were men who had dealings with the smugglers, and these sowers of the seed were so definite in their work, their methods were so similar, that it seemed probable Itlie ideals all came from one centre, that these men were in fact only lieutenants of one man. The seeds of dissatisfaction had been sown carefully, now the fruitage had come suddenly, unexpectedly. Some of the sowers even were startled and unprepared . They were not quite ready for so early a harvest.

One wizened gentleman, who talked in sea phrases—Captain Hyde by namehad come down into Devonshire for the express purpose of giving orders when the harvesting should commence; to his astonishment and consternation he found I that it had begun already. It was in I vain that he struggled to delay matters, promises and threats were alike unavailing, and he was met by the assurance that had he delayed his coming lonsrer he would have* ibeen looked upon as an enemy instead of a friend.

"We are not out to do good for a few l , but for all," one rioter declared, a statement 'which met with whole-hearted support and which proclaimed the speaker a power. The mob was going to arrange matters its own way; as a mob always will. The organiser's part was over, and Captain Hyde saw the chances of individual advantage become more and more shadowy. He decided not to force himself more prominently forward than 'he could help, and he was careful that in a. certain creek upon the coast, secluded and well-sheltered, there should be a stout, sea-worthy boat, one that had crossed the Channel in foul weather as well as fair, and was famous for fast sailing both in a. stiff breeze and a light wind. In making a detour to avoid Exeter, Lady Betty's coach encountered a band of rioters and was promptly stopped. As resourceful and determined as he had been when so closely followed by Evertsen, the coachman acted promptly now, but he did not attempt resistance. He called to the leader and held a whispered consultation with him which Betty could not hear, but it produced a wonderful effect. The inob had never looked dangerous, but they became good-natured. "Better give me a badge to prevent further trouble," said the coachman.

Several little knots of colored ribbons 'were held up to him.

"I'll take four, as there are four of us," he said, "and here are a few guineas to go with. There are plenty more to come, my lads," and he whipped up the horses as the crowd cheered and began to move in the direction of the nearest inn.

A mile or so further <on he pulled up, and giving the footman the reins, he got down and opened the coach-door. '"There is no need to fear, my lady, we shall not be stopped again." It was the first time he had spoken to her, except when he had called out just before shooting at the highwaymen, and Betty scrutinised him carefully. This man was her enemy, well paid, doubtless, to be so, but he was a man, fearless and resourceful. The spirit of daring which was in her could not refuse a measure of admiration even to her enemy.

"Why were we stopped?" Mary Rowarth asked. Perhaps she failed to hear a due respect to her mistress in the man's tone, or resented that he. should dare to speak to her at all. "There is a good deal of unrest in Devonshire, my lady," he answered, ignoring Mary, "and in places only privileged persons are likely to pass in safety. If you will fasten this badge to your dress you become a privileged person." "In Devon, at least, I am one without any badge," she answered. "Not when the mob is out."

"Yes, even then. Your master, and his servants, have far more to fear than I have. Presently I may appeal to the mob, but I shall wear no badge," she answered. The coachman ,bowed to her decision, and, closing the door, climbed to the box again. He fastened a knot of ribbons to his coat and told the footman to do the same. Then he drove on, but not so rapidly as he had done "She's full of' pluck," he murmured, "and pluck usually wins in the end." The footman looked at him, but made no comment. He had been frightened at the mob and seemed rather afraid of his companion, who appeared to know no fear. The coachman said no more,' but lie growled at intervals, as though in angry answer to his own thoughts. Lady Betty bad been compelled to inaction so long that the opportunity of asserting herself had a stimulating effect. Why was she being brought into Devon? If Walter Evertsen were responsible for her abduction—and who else could be?—why had he chosen this direction to any other? Any fear of possibilities had never once touched her. How could she be afraid of a man she so thoroughly despised? After wiiat Victor had told her she could not ignore the fact that a wider plot might ie on foot against her, with Evertsen as tool, .perhaps, or it might be without his knowledge altogether. The footman had not said that Evertsen was his master; he had simply given no information. His master was one he dare not disobey, and that might mean someone of far higher place than EveTtsen. Still, Lady Betty had no fear. She was conscious of a latent force within her ready to meet emergency, as every 'woman of strong character is. Circumstances may crush them but not conquer them, liesides, however dangerous her position might be, she could not consider it"desperate. Every mile of the road brought her further into the heart of Devon, amongst the people who had known her all their lives, people who had served her house, and directly or indirectly had Jived thereby. .She had loved these , people; she believed that they loved Iwr. Then, too, somewhere on the road behind her, pursuit must surely have begun. Victor would not wait long inactive when he received no message. He would go or send to Pall Mall or Petersham House, and, when he learnt the truth, who would stop him from starting to her rescue? She could even smile happily to herself at his impatience; but the smile died slowly out of her face as she remembered the two men who had already followed them. Were they truly highwaymen? Or, if Victor should presently spur after them in pursuit, would this savagely forceful coachman turn and shoot him down, and perchance call him a highwayman, too? They travelled slowly now, sometimes along the high road, sometimes by byroads. In spite of the badge he wore, the driver did not seem anxious to fall in with another mob. At mid-day they stopped at an inn—a low, tumble-down place off the main road —and here the driver received news that not only mad« him angry, but perplexed him. He decided not to proceed for two or three hours. "Horses might be difficult to get further on," he explained; he must give his present team a rest. Lady Betty and Mary were taken into the hest room, which smelt stale arid musty, and a meal of sorts was served, the footman waiting upon them. Evidently he was here to watch them, too. Late in the afternoon the journey was resumed along the highway, and the evening seemed to come almost at once. The coach stopped sxiddenly just where the road curved into a plantation, and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of men, who came rushing down from a side path. This crowd was in a very different temper to the one which had stopped them before. The door was wrenched open roughly.

"There's a toll for the use o' this road," asid a great fellow, sticking his ■head in. "Say, lads! look at the beauty!" lie cried, drawing back. "Shall she pay us a kiss all round, and pas son?"-' "Kisses })e d d!" roared another fellow. "They won't buy ale." "Hold these tightly," ©aid the driver, thrusting the reins into the footman's hands, as he slipped from the box. "Now then, my lads, what do you want?" he. said, pushing his way between the mob and the coach door. "Can't you see the badge I carry 7" "Anybody can carry it. but that don't mean you're one of us," shouted one

man. "We've already given one fellow a

hiding for wearing it this afternoon, and the sport was good enough to repeat, I say." At the hint there was a pressure towards the coachman, but it stopped short as he stiffened himself suddenly. He looked an ugly customer to deal with, and those closest to ihini were quite willing that others should take their plac«. "If you -were one of us, you wouldn't be driving the qaulity about," shouted another. ''Step aside some of you, and let us have a look at the beauty. Give us a chance of chosing 'twixt kisses and ale."

A roar greeted this sally. The coachman, with his keen eyes fixed upon the crowd, was ignorant of any movement behind him until he found Lady Betty and her maid beside him. Betty had stepped from the coach deliberately. The door on the other side had now been pulled open, but that might not have moved her. The coachman's courage appealed to her, and by proclaiming who she was she might save him and escape from her enemies as well. These were Devon men, and not so very many miles away lay Abbots Chase. They would respect the person of its mistress. There was a. sudden silence amongst tnose who could see her clearly, but the crowd on the other side were bent on hurrying matters.

"Drive on!" someone shouted. The reins were torn from the footman's hands, who jumped down, and literally fought Iris way to the coachman, terror lending him strength and energy. The horses were allowed to dash forwards for twenty or thirty yards, then the traces were cut. and before one part of the mob had recovered its surprise at Lady Betty's appearance, the other half had overturned the coach into the ditch, splitting its side and smashing two of its wheels. Neither Lady Betty nor the coachmau turned to look at this destruction. "Friends, I am Lady——" "Silence, for your life!" said the coachman in her ear, and his manner was so authoritative, yet so evidently meant to protect her, that she stopped. "Let her speak, curse you!" "Down him!" cried another.

Without a 'word of warning, the huge fist of a young giant shot towards the coachman's face. It was a blow that would have felled an ox, but someliow It missed its intention. Instead, the giant, whose head was thrust forward, received the coachman's fist on the point of the chin, which sent him, with a .backward jerk, sprawling amongst his fellows, his arms flung out to catch some support. Such fierce retaliation was so unexpected that for an instant there was a pause. Then carrie an angry growl and a forward movement which meant very definite mischief. In that instant, however, the coachman's manner changed. -He had pulled off .his coat; the 'high, turned-up collar no longer concealed his face. "There are few men in Devon who can strike like that," he' cried, but if the blow doesn't speak for me, look at me. You blockheads! Don't you know Sir Rupert Ashton when you see him ?" The crowd swayed back, and several faces turned in the direction of the wrecked coach. "It is Sir Rupert!" cried one man. "Three cheers for him!" cried another. "We're not to blame, if you come driving the quality," said a third. But the cheers had broken out and drowned the grumbling. "If I choose to drive a lady," Sir Rupert answered, "cannot you trust me to have a good reason'for doing so? I see Richards, the wheelwright, there amongst you; he'd better set to work and mend the coach.- After the horses, some of you, and see to the harness. We shall go no further to-night, but we must start early to-morrow." "You shouldn't come driving the quality," growled a man, by way of an apology, perhaps, for the smashed coach; but it was quite evident there was much discontent in the crowd. "Come, lads, there isn't a man among you who wouldn't do the same for a beautiful woman you loved," .Sir Rupert ■aawered gaily; and then, in a whisper, he added, "Pardon, Lady Betty, but we mvst keep the dogs good-temperetu" Lady Betty had not moved. Even wllen the giant had struck his savage blow, she had not flinched; she had not shrunk when the crowd had pressed forward in such an ugly manner. Even Mary Rowarth, who was no coward, had •paled, and the footman had cringed at Sir Rupert's side. Once or twice only had Betty seen the master of Kingswear Manor; she did not remember that she had even spoken to him. She remembered that her father had not liked Mm, but she did not recollect his 1 giving any particular reason for his dislike. The crowd had cheered again. Men were already struggling with the disabled coach, and others had gone after the horses. "Come, we must needs walk. It is not far to an inn, where we shall get a welcome, if the accommodation is somewhat rough. Your courage is splendid, Lady Betty. I wonder if you can bring yourself to look upon me as a friend?" "You have much to explain before that can happen," she said, as she turned to walk beside him.

'"I may yet prove a good friend," he answered.

iShe waited for some explanation, but none 'was given. This was the man who had helped Victor's father, a man who had suffered much; why had he thus planned and carried out his abduction? Where lay the mystery? He did not know her, except by reputation; surely, love could not have prompted his action!

He led the way from the high road by a side path, which ran for some little distance through the plantation. The ipath presently joined a road, which dipped to a small village nestling in a hollow, and at the top of the descent was an old inn of some size, facing a green, its back premises and outhouses pushed amongst the trees.

"This used to be the old coaching road," said Sir Rupert, breaking a long silence. "One word. Lady Betty. I stopped you a little while ago from telling the mob who you were; believe me, it was necessary. Here you will be made welcome, because you are a friend of mine; you must not whisper your name. Warn that maid of yours. It is too dark to see anything' very clearly now, but muffle up your face when you enter, in case someone should recognise you. The footman will wait on you." "And watch us," he said. "I am the victim of a foul plot, Sir Rupert; what prevents mj t "ing thest peoj..e and rescuing myself t" "Nothing/' h 6 answered. "And you have no explanation to give me" <: Xct yet." "-'■ id yet you would have me tv ist you ?-'■' "It was a foolish request, of course," ihe answered. "Still, let me assure you

there is danger for Lady Betty Walmisley here; there is absolute safety for the lady who is Sir Rupert xVshton's friend." "I have only your word for that." "We are at the door." he said with a, shrug of his shoulders j "you must do as you will." Almost mechanically Lady Betty muffled her face in the cloak and lowered her head as she passed the open door of the parlor, where several men were drinking. "We may sleep comfortably to-night, Mary," she said, when they were alone. "I am likely to dream of that crowd," was the answer. "Our coachman saved the situation.-" "Yes," Mary answered thoughtfully. "Have you ever seen Sir Rupert Ashton before, my lady? Do you know anything about him?" "No. Why do you ask?" "I have seen him once—twice, I think, and I have heard him spoken of, always in a secret kind of way. My husband has spoken of him. and_ Sir Rupert has been to the Brazen Serpent." "Well, Mary? It was a tavern. Men do go to taverns."

"The Brazen Serpent is an evil place, my lady; and if Jacob Pinfold spoke 'well of a man, that man was not to be trusted, I know Jacob thought ti great deal of Sir Rupert Ashton.•' "I do not trust him, Mary." It was a relief to sit stifl, after the constant rattle of the coach; but the inn was noisy to-night. Some \of the crowd evidently visited it, but peaceably; there was no disturbance. Once or twice they heard Sir Rupert Ashton's voice raised in a laugh, and on one occasion a voice answered him rather noisily: "Well, you've conveyed the little craft into a queer haven, and if you can get her over the bar again without ripping the lead off her keel, I've never footed it from a revenue cutter that's all." The inn seemed to become quieter soon after these words reached them; possibly, Sir Rupert warned the speaker to lower ids voice, since little more than a murmur came for some time. There were intervals of iperfect silence presently, broko-a \)? the tribW'jijr of a rut in tbi sk»t'.iig. Mjtj i\Mir..\ Sb«» hp.n-<! rata. She was a'uiost afraid of thetii. sinew her escape irom tne Brazen Serpent. It came again—in the room, it seemed, and then she went quickly to the door. A piece of paper had "been , thrust under it. She picked it up, and brought it to her mistress. They "bent I their heads together over the writing, which was faint, only just legible, and

then they looked at each other, wondering. '"What does it mean?" Mary whispered. "I don't 'know, but I think we will obey," said Lady Betty. On the paper was written: "Put a light in the window of your room, and do not undress to-night." {To be continued on Saturday).